#I’m trying my hardest to figure out the philosophy behind it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

whump-town · 3 years

Text

You Dance With Tears In Your Eyes

Summary: a college AU set up in the late 80s/early 90s with football star and quarterback Derek Morgan and his secret boyfriend Hotch-- it's not a happy story but I don't think I really have to warn you guys about that anymore

Also, a little based on a story my grandmother told me about my great uncle and his partner. Never met my great uncle but everyone says I'm a lot like him, I think they just mean gay but don't know how to say it

Warnings: homophobia, violence, racism *I mean it when I say homophobia*

Pairing: Derek Morgan/Aaron Hotchner

@yourlocalheartbreaker

The title is from Frank Ocean's song Self Control

Now and then you miss it, sounds make you cry Some nights you dance with tears in your eyes I came to visit, 'cause you see me like a UFO That's like never, 'cause I made you use your self-control And you made me lose my self-control, my self-control

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

Living shouldn’t be reduced down to what it is, the bare bones of things that don’t even make Derek Morgan who he is. He lives by them anyways, stupid rules. Social norms, Aaron always clarifies because even when those silly rules drown them Aaron needs to be concise. Social norms dictate every inch of life and for once Derek wishes he were the type of person who could be given that inch and take a mile. They’re the reason he can’t hold his boyfriend’s hand in public. Why he can’t kiss Aaron on New Years’ and why he is reduced down to loving his roommate. Why, at this rate, he’ll never marry or adopt children, or why he could lose any career he goes into because some nosy asshole finds out his partner isn’t a woman. And, yes, he knows there are anti-discriminatory laws but he’s a black gay man. The world is stacked against him.

It makes him so angry. He’s blinded by the irrational of it all, why nothing can just be simple for them. Aaron tries to comfort him but Derek’s anger scares him, he doesn’t understand it. Aaron has long lost the ability to decipher the complexity of human emotions. Still flinches at loud noises like he’s expecting each bump to be accompanied by the pain that laced his childhood and has to ask, around every turn, if Derek’s angry with him. He can’t tell. Everything looks like anger. With Derek, it frequently is. They cope in very different ways, Aaron chooses nothing. Shutting down all his emotions until he cracks and that’s worse. It’s worse than Derek’s anger. That doesn’t mean Derek doesn’t hate the way he quakes with fury. If not because it feels childish to be blinded by emotions then because it scares Aaron.

There are a million other things, at twenty there always is. It’s his philosophy class with all this bullshit reading he doesn’t understand. He has to ask Aaron for help and Aaron has to ask him for help with things too but it makes Derek feel stupid. It’s philosophy, it can’t be that hard. That’s the same way Aaron feels about calculus. There’s maintaining rent and going grocery shopping and football (games, practice, gym, and training).

College had been a learning curve. Getting up at four in the morning to go to the gym for football had been the hardest thing in the world without his mother flicking his bedroom lights on and off or Desiréecoming in to smack him in the face with a pillow. There’s no one in the entire world in charge of getting him out of his bed other than him and, in his freshman year, while he had thought sleeping on that impossibly hard mattress would leave much to be desired, and it did, he found himself glued to his every morning. Not wanting to leave the safety of its flimsy comfort.

Sharing an apartment worked wonders, having a workaholic boyfriend was really the best trick. An unexpected answer to his problems but, also, a very cute one. He managed to add one person to the list of people that cared about where he was, that made sure he got up in time to make it to the gym and practice, and asked if he had a bad day or rub at his sore muscles.

Derek rolls over in bed, not as surprised as he should be to find the other half empty. “Aaron?” He still searches, runs his hand over the sheets as if he doesn’t know that if Aaron were in the bed he’d be right there. Hogging the bed and the blankets, pressed up against Derek’s back snoring like there’s no tomorrow. “Aaron?” Derek sits up and squints, grimaces at the light trailing in from the open door.

Aaron’s hunched over the beginnings of an essay, pen ink smeared across his left palm and steadily chugging along. He can write a full essay in the span of a night, five hours for about 3,000 words but if it’s a short synopsis sort of thing then about an hour. Despite this astonishing gift, Aaron still makes himself write all his essays weeks in advance and spends days upon days proofreading and combing through them for the tiniest mistakes. He’s a straight-A student so he’s doing something right but Derek gets mostly As too with far less hastily. Aaron is just extra.

Derek steps up to the desk, doesn’t make a sound as he leans up against the side of the chair. He wraps an around Aaron’s shoulders, leans down to kiss his head. “It’s two,” Derek informs him, “come to bed. Please?” Derek’s exhausted. He feels the regret of being pulled from his warm bed. Each second feels like twenty minutes, the world sluggish and too cold. He leans closer to Aaron, wrapping himself around him. “You always smell so good,” Derek whispers. He presses his face into Aaron’s hair, catching the mix of scents.

“Bakery,” Aaron grunts. His answer as simple and concise as he always is but even more so now that he’s tired. Aaron had worked an on-campus job for the entirety of their freshman year but after he got a scholarship that would roll over each year after that (so long as he kept a certain GPA) he started at a bakery down the street from their apartment. Derek had always liked the way Aaron smelled, gently masculine in a way only Aaron could ever be, and it had mixed with the scents of softly, perfectly made baked goods he works around all day. Cookies and cakes. He’s picked up a few tricks, Aaron can make moist cakes and perfectly round cookies but his bread… It’s the best food Derek has ever eaten.

The first time Aaron made bread Derek got down on one knee and confessed “Aaron Hotchner if I could marry you I’d take you to the damn chapel right now”. To which he was lovingly pushed and told to “shut up” but fresh-baked bread (even if Aaron had taken a single bite and concluded he hadn’t ratioed the sugar right) is heavenly. He’s gotten much better since and it’s really hot when he’s standing there in one of his dress shirts with the sleeves rolled up taking his stress out on the dough.

And he can’t tell anyone. Can’t boast about his hot ass boyfriend or the bread he makes from scratch.

Derek crouches down by the chair, knows he’s winning when Aaron breaks from his work just enough to glance at him out of the corner of his eye. “Can’t this wait just a little bit?” he asks. “I want to sleep with my boyfriend and he’s out here writing an essay that isn’t due tomorrow and likely isn’t due for the next month.” Derek reaches up, strokes a strand of hair back behind Aaron’s ear. His fingers graze an open wound and Aaron flinches away, the pain unexpected.

The bare bones of Aaron Hotchner are the along the same in principle to Dereks-- all things that he cannot change. Even as he stands as tall as Derek, their bodies are not the same. Derek is lean from years of football, his arms stretch his shirts. He looks like an athlete, has the benefit of the doubt whenever he’s around men. His teammates walk naked in front of him, no one for even a second thinks anything of it. No one suspects him of the atrocities he commits within his apartment.

Aaron doesn’t have any of that. His hair is a little too long, hangs down in his face when he’s studying or reading. Nothing about him is hulk-ish, he’s delicate with his movements and while it had been something that Derek was immediately drawn to it also draws other’s attention. Bad attention.

The same boys that play around with Derek, snapping towels at him while he walks, terrorize Aaron.

Derek wishes there was something he could do because if this were anyone else- if Aaron were a girl- he could. It wouldn’t be dangerous, not the sort of thing that would cost him his football scholarship or get him stabbed and left to bleed out in an alley or beat within an inch of his life. He would have to out himself to protect Aaron, to stand in front of his teammates that coach keeps calling his family and tell them to keep their fucking hands off his boyfriend. No. No, because something like that would be death. It would be worse than what’s already happening. And Aaron won’t allow it.

All Derek can do now is await the next attack, leave Aaron someplace to come home to. Give him a place to be, without burden, without hesitation. It’s not enough. They’ll kill him. Derek knows they will and it’ll be fun for them, only a matter of time.

“Come to bed with me,” Derek asks one more time. He doesn’t want to sound entirely needy but he really doesn’t want to go to bed without Aaron. The bed is lonely.

With a sigh, Aaron nods and Derek stands up, moves out of the way so Aaron can throw pens in his textbooks to mark his place. He steps away, from the desks, yawning as he makes lazy lurches forward towards their bedroom. “Turn the damn--” Derek rolls his eyes and reaches over and turns off Aaron’s desk lamp.

He passes Aaron in the doorway, places his hand on his hip, and reminds him of their objective. “Bed,” he mumbles and Aaron nods, jerking back to life as he steps further into the bedroom.

Derek lays down on the bed, crawls over to his side, and gets comfortable while he watches Aaron lazily strip down to his underwear. He gets caught in his head again for a moment, standing there just blankly staring at the dresser. Trying to figure out if he should put on pajamas or not. Derek calls his name and opens his arms. “Come here, “ he says and Aaron smiles. Sheepishly he comes, blushing as he crawls into the bed and where Derek instructs him. Humming, pleased, when Derek brings the blankets up over them. His eyes are already closed, head tucked under Derek’s chin when Derek wraps his arms around him. Pulls him close, tight.

He’d read in a book about deep pressure, its effect on the parasympathetic nervous system. He’d studied Development Psychology for some time, thought about all the ways in which it checked every box of his interests. He thinks he might want to be a teacher. That’s where he learned about the importance of the bond between guardian and child. Where he learned a hug sometimes really is a fantastic answer to the most startling problems.

It’s also the fastest way to get Aaron to sleep.

“Tighter,” Aaron whispers. He can’t quite feel Derek’s bones pushing into him, the hammer of his heart still too strong. He groans, choking up a laugh when Derek does just that. Holds him tight, makes him ache with the proximity, his inability to move.

Derek doesn’t mind, he’s got an armful of bakery boy. Couldn’t be more content with anything else.

0000000000000000

All things considered, Derek didn’t actually face that much scrutiny when he told his mother about the stupid twisting and turning feeling in his stomach when Martel Harris put his hand on Derek’s back. Leaned in too close and Derek could smell the cologne he wore and feel his proximity like lightning across his skin. He’d thought it was just nerves but at the end of a football match Martel lifted him up, threw him up in the air, and God that had felt better than flying. Lit him up inside like he was something, someone.

Desiréecried and Sarah wouldn’t speak to him for a week, opposite reactions because of the same fear. Their mother always said the two of them were two halves of the same coin-- too alike to get along and too different to ever get away. They came around, their mother’s gentle hand always the voice of reason. Three stubborn as all hell kids, too much like their father. That’s what she tells the three of them, tears swelling in her eyes as she proclaims that none of it matters. Orders Desiréeto stop crying tells Sarah to get over herself. She loved and married a black man despite the death threats that followed them everywhere they went. Despite the people that called it blasphemous. Called it sin. As if love could be such a thing.

Her mother told her not to come home, not to call. She wouldn’t do that to her son, she knows it won’t change a thing. There’s something about love that makes you blind to the small pains. She never looked back twice, never reached out to her parents. She chose love and Derek will too.

But that doesn’t mean the fear goes away.

It doesn’t actually change a damn thing.

Standing in the tiny bathroom attached to Derek’s friend’s bedroom Aaron leans over the sink, letting Derek rub

shampoo through his beer-drenched hair. “I just don’t understand why they have it out for you,” Derek mumbles, his voice has deepened, his frustration laced confusion evident. They’re in a rather suggestive position, Derek’s body keeping Aaron bent over the sink-- ass to groin. Aaron shoots him a look out of the corner, a pretty clear “look at us right now and take a guess at why”. Derek ignores the look, he’s rather good at ignoring Aaron’s sharp looks. He shakes his head, grumbling some more to himself and gently working the shampoo out of Aaron’s hair. He leans closer, Aaron groaning as the sink bites into his stomach, and smells his hair. Derek groans, unsatisfied with what he finds. “Smells like strawberries with a slight undertone of beer.”

Sounds about as close to a win as they’re getting. “That’s as good as it’s going to get,” Aaron mumbles, grateful when Derek sits back up. While Aaron’s come to terms with the particular hand he’s drawn in the terms of college social lives Derek isn’t as quick to accept. He feels hopeless, a feeling he thought he’d escaped upon leaving Chicago and everything Carl Buford. Aaron can’t stand to see that look, the one he’s grown so used to seeing after events like this.

He pulls a towel down off the rack, starts trying to dry his hair. This isn’t the reason he keeps his hair short but it’s certainly a helpful addition to keep in mind. “Don’t overthink it, it’s not your fault.” Aaron could go blue in the face trying to keep Derek from coming up with a mile-long list of all the reasons why that’s simply not true. The truth is, it’s really not Derek’s fault. No one even knows about them. Their relationship isn’t the reason why Hunter Whatever-his-last-name-is poured his cup of cheap, smells like piss, beer over Aaron’s head.

Not that what happened downstairs can just be so beautifully summed up as just that. Hunter Whatever-his-last-name-is had grabbed Aaron as he was walking in, doing as Derek instructed by coming in the screened-in door at the side of the house. “Who’s dick did you come to suck?” and Hunter Whatever-his-last-name-is cupped Aaron’s cheek. Dug his thumb into the wound he created and smiled, grinned happily at the sight of Aaron trying so hard to getaway. Hunter’s grip relaxed and as soon as it did Aaron was blinking the beer out of his eyes. “Get the fuck away from me,” Hunter shoved him, hard. “Faggot.” Aaron hit his hip on the counter but said nothing, he’ll leave the bruise for Derek to find another night.

“I should say something to that pig,” Derek’s distracting himself with putting everything back in the bathroom the way it was before they came in. Straightening out the rug and fixing the other towels. “Let me catch him trying something--”

Aaron can’t take it, all of Derek’s pointless anger, his stupid guilt. He’s just had beer poured down his back. He can’t even accept Derek’s sweatshirt to replace his smelly shirt, can’t walk out of here wearing his boyfriend’s sweatshirt without getting shanked. The beer smells awful but he’s fairly certain getting stabbed is a whole lot worse. Derek doesn’t have to deal with that. No one messes with him because no one thinks to. “It’s because of how I look!” He’s shaking, bangs hanging down in his face still damp but no longer dripping water down his face. “You? You look normal. You get to walk around with all your football buddies, no one bats an eye at the quarterback, Derek. At least you like women too!” He points to himself, digs his finger into his own chest. “Me? I look the part. I can’t even pretend. Everyone knew, the whole world knew before I did!”

Derek just stands there, caught in the headlights trying to figure out what to say.

He wipes his eyes, jerks away from the hand Derek tries to put on his arm. “No. No!” he can’t do touch right now. Not like this, not when his body won’t hold still and his knees keep trying to buckle. It happens, this panicked cornered feeling, and usually Derek would hold him down. They’d sit on the floor and Derek would hold his arms down to his chest and they’d just sit like that until Aaron can breathe again. Bones against bones until Aaron feels the fractures of his humanity coming back together but for now, right now? He can’t do it. He can’t be touched.

“I want to go home,” he manages, lower lip quivering despite how much he wants to hold it together. “Please take me home.”

Derek just stares at him, stands there, and watches Aaron cross his arms over his chest and curl in, trying to squeeze the panic out himself. “Okay,” he caves. “Go on, I’ll follow you down.” It’s degrading, humiliating the fact that they can’t even leave this room together. Aaron’s upset and Derek can’t do anything about that right now. It’s not safe until they’re home.

It’s never safe.

With his hair dripping into his face Aaron stumbles in the dark. His shirt is soaking wet, stuck to his skin, and freezing him as tramples down a thin stretch of grass between houses. He wishes he had Derek’s sweatshirt. Something warm. At least something to cover his arms. It had been a stupid idea coming here right after getting off work. The bakery is so impossibly hot and after getting off his shift all he wanted was to be with Derek. To sit in whatever little room Derek could guarantee was safe and drink whatever cheap crap Derek brings him from downstairs. Just sit and listen to the music filtering in from downstairs.

“Hotchner!”

He freezes-- a deadly mistake.

“Where are you off to in such a hurry?”

He knows what happened to Derek. In the hush of the night, laying facing each other in the dark, Derek had told him. Each word a puff of hot air against Aaron’s face, hitting the hot tears rolling down his cheeks. It was supposed to be even, Derek’s intention was to express alikeness. He’d seen the scars, no matter careful Aaron was about the light when he thought things were headed in the direction of nakedness, Derek saw them. He hadn’t said anything that time, run his thumb over the one on Aaron’s chest but kept up his ministrations. Acted as if he didn’t until that moment in bed.

Aaron still hasn’t found the courage to be honest about his own childhood.

Derek comes around the back, half-expecting tonight to go like it always does. Except Aaron hasn’t had any alcohol and he doesn’t come stumbling around the porch to greet Derek from the darkness. There are no stolen kisses or hushed laughter. No Aaron. Derek has half a mind to shout out for him, he couldn’t have gone off far, but then he sees him. Derek sees them. The moonlight shining down casting this awful hue between the houses. He sees Hunter draw his foot back and he can’t hold it back. Won’t let this go on. “Hunter!”

The second that Hunter’s attention is away from him, Aaron slumps to the ground. His blood smeared against the house. He’s still breathing, awful ragged breathes that shoot blood off his lips. He sees Derek in the moonlight, rushing past him. Aaron wishes he wasn’t a coward. Between each blood speckled breathe, he wishes that he wasn’t a coward and had just told Derek. That way he would understand Aaron can take it. He spent his childhood taking beatings for just being alive. At least now it was something coherent. Being beaten for being gay requires at least knowing something about him. His father couldn’t even bother with that.

But Derek doesn’t understand.

Aaron never told him.

He’s pulled down, out of orbit, and back to Earth when Derek squats down beside him, cradles his head in his hands. “Aaron?” he calls out, but Aaron can’t force his eyes to move from the dirt. “Can I--” Derek doesn’t know where to put his hands. If he can put his hands anywhere. “I’m going to-- to lift you, okay?” It’s not a matter of if he’s strong enough. He benches more than his own body weight and that’s significantly more than Aaron’s. He’s just not sure if Aaron’s going to fight him and if Aaron fighting him is good or bad.

“Lean forward,” Derek whispers, cupping the back of Aaron’s head and directing it into his shoulder. He turns, manipulates both their bodies and winces each time, no matter how gentle and calculated his movements are, Aaron still cries out. He still hurts him. “I’m sorry,” becomes his mantra. The only words he can manage out around the tears, the only thing he can get past the thickness in his throat.

Sorry he didn’t stop this sooner.

Sorry that he keeps hurting Aaron.

Sorry they couldn’t be other people. In other places. In another time.

Sorry that it’s all for nothing, that there’s no way this ends well for either of them. They’re going to end up dead or alone but certainly separate.

The second Derek has him in his arms Aaron grips his shirt tightly in one blood-stained hand. He rests his head on Derek’s shoulder, soaking in his warmth. “Home?” he asks, voice breaking.

“We’re going home.”

Aaron wakes up alone in bed.

He’s completely naked, laying with three blankets pulled up over him. One that he recognizes is from the living room. There’s one of Derek’s homemade sock heating pads digging into his sore ribs where he rolled over onto it, he can feel more of them underneath him. He’s been laying here for a while. None of the socks are warm anymore. He’s on Derek’s side of the bed, facing his nightstand, and watches Derek’s blurry alarm clock change time. 1:36 passing to 1:37 to 1:38 just waiting for the fuzzy fingers in his brain to ease up. To allow him to think.

It’s Saturday.

Derek’s off at a football game, not due back for hours. Not until tonight, long after Aaron’s gone to bed.

For an overwhelming moment, his eyes fill with tears, desperation, and solitude creating an awful twist in his stomach. He doesn’t want to be alone. Protectively he draws his knees up, tries to knot himself up, and create a mangled ball. His heart picks up, anxiety increasing as he lays there. He wants Derek. He doesn’t want to be alone.

On the phone’s first rings he curls in tighter, overwhelmed by his own crying that he presses his face into Derek’s pillow and ignores it. He’ll let the machine catch it-- that’s the whole reason Derek bought it. With a sharp end, muffled by the blanket he pulls up over his head, a voice comes through. The machine catching the voice mail.

“Aaron, sweetheart? This is Fran, Derek’s mom? I’m sorry to keep calling sweetie but Derek’s awake now. He’s worried, says you should have woken up by now. I can send Sarah to come get you, Derek told me what happened last night. Please call me back? I hope you’re okay.”

He lays in confused silence, trying to process why Derek’s mother would call him. She calls all the time and occasionally he answers to tell her she’s just missed Derek-- he’s off with friends, at the gym, or at class. They know of one another Derek talks about him to Fran as much as Derek talks about Fran to him. But Fran call him? That’s never happened.

Then he catches it-- “Derek’s awake now”-- and he sits up. Pushed from his mind is the pain, his ribs scream and the blood he can see he’s left on Derek’s pillow. Derek’s awake now. Hunter Whatever-his-last-name-is is on the football team. An offensive lineman. A guy whose entire job is to protect Derek but now he knows, he has to know.

Derek’s awake now.

He throws himself out of bed, clipping his already sore hip on the nightstand and staggering for the phone. Tears spilling over his face. What happened while he was sleeping? What did Hunter do?

Fran picks up on the first ring. “Aaron, is that you sweetheart?”

He sniffles, rubbing at his nose with his finger. “Yes, ma’am.” He knows she can hear him crying, his choked sobs as he falls in the direction of the closes chair.

“You had me worried sick,” she says and he can hear that unmistakable fondness in her chastising tone. That must be where Derek gets it from. It makes him smile, even if it’s weak. “How are you feeling, baby? Derek told me what happened. I’m sorry. If I see that boy I’ll wring his neck. Give him a piece of my mind for bothering my boys.”

He just nods, despite the fact that she can’t see that. He knows he should answer her question but he has no idea what he feels. Nothing. He feels nothing as he sits here holding his breath as he waits to ask about Derek. To know what happened because of him. “Is Derek okay? What happened?”

Hunter told a few other team members what he saw. Most brushed him off, Hunters a douchebag, and they like Derek. Others just hate Aaron enough for it to matter to them, enough to what to do something. Or, rather, not do anything. It only took one tackle, a limb bent the wrong way under the weight of three boys.

It was Derek’s knee. A career-ending injury.

A scholarship losing injury.

“Can I--” Aaron chokes. He’s afraid of what happens if Fran says no. “Can I see him?”

“Of course you can.”

Aaron turns away Fran’s offer of a car ride but Desirée still shows up.

He answers the door in a sweatshirt and jeans and knows immediately who it is when he opens it up. Desirée just stares at him for a moment, he can feel all of the seventeen-year-old judgment sizing him up. “You look… awful,” she tells him. She lets herself in, walking past Aaron with one more look. “Mom says I can drive but if you want to do it I have to let you.” She puts the car keys on the counter, sighs as she looks around. “Derek says…” she chews her lip, as she sizes him up again.

He wonders how intimidating he could possibly look to her. Hunched over and wearing a sweatshirt that’s too big for him.

“Would you teach me how to make bread?”

He can’t help but smile, nods without any hesitation.

“Really?”

Aaron nods, “it’s not that hard. More of a-- a waiting game. You have to give the yeast time to rise.”

Desirée has no idea what that means but she nods, “cool.”

He lets her drive. Mostly because his vision is swimming but because he tosses the keys back to her, a clear okay that she can drive, and she beams at him. She likes him. That’s so weirdly important to him.

She has to wake him up when they get to the hospital. The first thing she tells Fran is that he let her drive and Fran smiles at him, shakes her head, and says “you must have a death wish.”

Aaron blushes under the attention, eyes falling to the floor. He barely manages, “drives just like Derek.”

Fran laughs, nodding her head, “she does. Too heavy on the brakes.” Her smile fades a little when she sees Aaron’s sweatshirt, recognizes it from home. Knows it’s Dereks. “Will you let someone look at that,” she asks, too many of his wounds look deep. Cuts that need stitches and a nasty black eye that she knows he hasn’t iced. She’s reminded a little too quickly that Aaron and Derek are still very much kids. Tricky kids. Too old to be told what to do but still wanting direction.

Aaron nods, shying away again from the attention, but nods.

They leave him when the nurse steps in, doesn’t need to say a word. Fran sees him hesitate to lift his shirt and knows. Derek had managed to tell her most of what happened but the morphine made his speech slur, made him emotional. He’d sobbed, high and in pain. Told her what he’d seen the night before. Hunter hitting and kicking at Aaron, the way Aaron slumped forward. How he’d carried Aaron home. Washed the blood off him with a rag. She knew what was under Aaron’s shirt wasn’t something for them to see.

Derek wakes sometime in the middle of the night. The drugs from the surgery are wearing off and with it his blissful escape from the pain. Licking his dry lips he looks around the room, spotting his sisters and frowning as he tries to find his mother. She’s leaning over another cot, on the other side of the room. He watches her, hears the familiar chorus of Blackbird, and watches her stroke Aaron’s forehead, following the line of the relaxed brow.

It makes him smile, his mother used to sing Whitney Houston to him and his sisters to sleep. He told her about Aaron’s obsession with The Beatles, how of all the records the two of them own that’s the only one Aaron will play. Desiréebought the album, his mother told him a week later. She saved up to get it and was eager for her moment to speak to Aaron about it. To be able to befriend her brother’s boyfriend. That’s about the same time Fran began to hound him about bringing Aaron home, to Chicago. She wanted to meet him.

Fran kisses Aaron’s forehead, waiting another moment just to make sure Aaron’s truly asleep before she stands. “He was having a bad dream,” she tells Derek. In truth, he’d been crying in his sleep. In pain, she could tell, and restless. He’d settled with her there and it made her sad to think that maybe he’d just grown too used to sleeping beside someone else. She’d pulled his blankets closer and sang, just as she did with the other three when they were little. Even when they’re twenty, it still works like a charm.

Fran smiles, tries to soothe Derek’s nerves so he doesn’t worry about Aaron. He’s fine for now, sleeping soundlessly. She sits down on the edge of Derek’s bed, cups his cheek, and asks “how are you feeling?”

Derek just looks over to Aaron, his pale parted lips parted and the bandages holding him together. “Is he okay?” He’d been so scared last night watching Aaron sleep. No amount of Tylenol was doing a thing for his pain. Several times he’d sat up in the night and searched for a pulse, counted the far too many seconds separating each of his breathes. Derek thought Aaron might die right there beside him but he’d been more afraid of what might have happened if they went to the hospital.

Fran sighs, stupid love. It’s cute, she has to admit, but so senseless. “He’s sleeping, he’s okay.” She tries to redirect him, “how do you feel?”

Derek looks back over to Aaron. He looks. There’s more than just those pale lips and the bandages. It’s Aaron. He’s sleeping under multiples blankets and looks like himself. How he always looks when Derek rolls over to face him. He believes his mother, she never lies. “My leg hurts,” he whispers, voice cracking. It’s like the entire thing is pulsing, a continuous stabbing feeling. He cries but not from the pain. They betrayed him. The people he so stupidly thought of as his friends. They hurt him like they’d been hurting Aaron.

He should have known better.

He shouldn’t have been so stupid.

This is his fault.

“Derek?” Aaron sits up, hesitating under the combined attention of Derek and Fran.

Fran stands up, nods Aaron over. “Sit with him,” she offers. “I’ll go get a nurse.”

Aaron nods, still waiting, still hesitating to be where he wants to be. Derek motions him closer, manages to move his body over in the bed. Just enough room for Aaron to squeeze in beside him.

“I don’t think I”m supposed to--”

“Lay down.” Derek can see all the bruises and cuts up close again. He brushes his fingers through the hair above Aaron’s ear, turning his palm to his cheek. Gently tracing the outline of a bandage. “Runaway with me,” he whispers. He thought about it all night long while he watched Aaron sleep. “There’s only four more weeks left of the semester.” Aaron’s smart, he’ll get in anywhere he applies. “We’ll transfer someplace else, anywhere else.”

Aaron frowns, he doesn’t like the idea of this impulsivity. Mostly the number of uncertainties that it creates and the questions. Where will they go? How will they know it’s safe? Are they dropping out? Where will they transfer to? What Aaron can’t get into the college that Derek does?

“Hey,” Derek hushes, he strokes his thumb across Aaron’s cheekbone. “Hey, whatever you’re thinking stop. I’m not leaving, not going anywhere you don’t. We do this together, alright?” He smiles, leans forward, and softly knocks their foreheads together. “Four weeks and all of summer break, okay? That’s plenty of time for a smarty pants like you to figure out where we can go.” It had taken less time for Aaron to conclude Illinois was close enough to home for him to go if something happened to his mother but too far away for her or his brother to come to him.

They’ll figure it out.

“Runaway with me?” he asks one more time.

“Okay.”

#criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #hotchgan #mortch #hurt hotch #tw homophobia

60 notes · View notes

cerysdelaney · 3 years

Note

I don’t know how much into vampires you are, but this can go for demons too I guess. I just always connect this to that smooth and cunning nature of vampires. That attitude of someone who doesn’t hide or shame their desires. Someone that knows more than you, the hidden dark secrets. Someone who have seen and tried so many things. And they see right trough you...

Imagine yourself cornered by someone like that. Maybe at a party or somewhere formal. So you gotta act propper. You are a little scared and surprised of your own attraction and how easily you react to them. It’s almost like they are using magic on you... You are weak in your knees, you don’t know why or how this happened and you have absolutely no idea how to handle this! You try to play it cool. Denying everything. Acting and convincing yourself of your innocence. Trying to be logical and cool. Guess what, you are not fooling them. It’s not working one little bit. And they are completely unbothered by your attempts at avoiding this. They have seen into your eyes and they are not letting you go so easily. It’s like a game for them, and they enjoy it very much. A game like: they are teasing you and seeing how little they have to do to make you blush and stammer. And you are trying your hardest to stay cool, while your brain burning down from you trying to figure out what is happening. Of course you stand no chance, they just like to draw it out and watch you sweat, whenever they are ready they can take you just like that.

Anyone else’s heart skip at beat at the words “Imagine yourself cornered by someone like that”?

The thing is, I’m not someone who denies those feelings, but I’m also not used to being pursued. I’m usually the first the move after making eye contact, then having them break it, eyes wondering over my body.

So imagining someone not breaking eye contact... it sends shivers down my spine, and I find myself breaking it first. My eyes traveling over their body and then back to their mouth, smirking with satisfaction and licking their lips as they make their way across the room.

But all I can think about now is the glimpse of canines longer than they should be. Was that my imagination?

They smile as they sit next to me. I can’t help but stare. They ask, “Do I frighten you?”

I think about it. Looking between their eyes, gentle, inquisitive, calm, and their smile, unashamed, waiting, patient. Their position beside me is unassuming with hands on their lap, legs crossed, so casual. They’re following where my eyes are investigating. I look at their neck. “Has anyone ever bitten you?”

They laugh, arms unclamping and one stretching behind my shoulders on the couch. I welcome the move by turning my body enough to allow my leg to touch their knee. And we talk.

We talk for hours, moving further away from the party. Drinks in hand, we enjoy the outside quiet and sit beside the dimming bonfire. Partygoers dwindle away when they’re completely ignored and isolated by discussions of philosophy from centuries of history. Hardly drunken conversation. But we’re not drunk, and won’t pretend to be. This became a courtship in an unlikely setting. For both of us had been looking for fun, not expecting an actual option for companionship.

We let the fire die, and in the darkness I finally open my mouth to theirs. I lick their fangs and cut my tongue. They suck it and pull my body on top of theirs. They hold me tightly as I submit to their hunger. Straddling their waist, I grind against them.

The deepened kiss ends and we both break for air. My heart’s pounding for the both of us. I press my forehead against theirs, and think of my blood circulating inside them. My life force feeding their spirit.

This feels perfect. You fit so well within their arms, against their body. They must feel it too. Their eyes locking onto yours as they whisper, “Will you be mine?”

“Yes,” you barely get out your answer before they’re kissing you again. They bite your lip and suck as your hands glide over each other’s bodies.

Some drunken loner yells out, “Get a room!” And you laugh in each other’s mouths. This party has outlived its usefulness.

“Your place or mine?”

“Do you have black out curtains?”

“Your place then.”

Neither of you move. Their body feels so good against yours.

“I don’t suppose your kind can teleport?”

They laugh, slowly straightening your clothes. You do the same, pouting a little as skin on skin becomes cloth on cloth. You push yourself off them. Your legs wobble a bit, and they steady you as they say, “No, but I do have a very nice car.”

“Perks that come with age,” you tease, and they slap your ass with a squeeze.

#anon ask #vampire #my writing #under the keep reading #teaser #I’m still sick so that’s as far as my weary mind can go #I’ll have to come back to this couple when I’m well enough to play in the dark #thank you anon #your writing is indeed inspirational #I hope I’ll hear from you again.

42 notes · View notes

readyplayerhobi · 4 years

Text

Flower | 28

; Hoseok x Reader

; Genre: Fluff

; Word Count: 4.3k

; Synopsis: You finally decide to take a dip into the world of online dating and find the Flower dating app. One of the top matches for you proves to be a guy who looks to be your complete opposite; tattooed, pierced, a metalhead and oh…incredibly handsome. What happens when you throw caution to the wind and reach out to him?

; A/N: After a month of no Flower...here’s a chapter. Please reblog and let me know what you thought in comments or an as! I’ve been struggling a lot with writing lately and feedback really does help to motivate me!

; Flower Masterpost

Taking in the sight of the tattoo gun and all the necessary accessories that are being prepped in front of you, you can’t help but purse your lips in slight worry. As excited as you were for this, you were also afraid that it was going to hurt. Because getting a tattoo wasn’t a quick process.

Nervously, you glance over at Hoseok. He’s sat on a stool that Jay, the tattoo artist, had brought over for him while you sit on the padded, leather chair. Taking in your uncertain expression, he gives you a bright smile before squeezing your hand to give you a little reassurance. Which you need, because you were a big baby when it came to pain.

“You’ll be okay, I swear. You’ve watched me get tattooed before.” Hoseok says sweetly, white teeth flashing for a moment as he grins once more in another effort to soothe your worries. It doesn’t work though, as you almost immediately begin to frown upon remembering the one time you’d gone with him to watch him get tattooed.

“Yeah...and you ended up crying in pain.” Twisting his lips in a grimace, Hoseok’s expression is suddenly unsure before he sighs deeply in acknowledgement. Lifting your hand, he kissed the back of it gently before running his thumb along the thin, soft skin.

“Hey...I was getting tattooed on my ribs. That’s one of the worst places to get done because you’re tattooing on bone and muscle. Jay can attest that yours isn’t going to be that bad, I swear.” His tone is gentle and you can tell he’s trying to keep you calm. Glancing over at Jay, you watch as the tattoo artist finishes up his preparations before giving you a wry smile.

“He’s right. I won’t lie, it might hurt but if it does, it should get better hopefully. If it gets really bad though, tell me. We can stop if you can’t handle it. You will end up with only a partial tattoo but...” His shoulders shrug casually beneath his Amon Amarth shirt and you want to complain. But then you realise he’s right, and he’s only telling you the truth.

Grinding your teeth together, you sigh deeply before nodding at him in acceptance.

“Okay. I’m a big girl, I can cope with this.” That line is directed at Hoseok, your tone slightly sarcastic and he snorts in response. Leaning forward, he gives you a quick peck on the lips before settling back and starting up a conversation between the three of you once you approve the positioning.

There’s a brief pause before you feel Jay’s cool, glove covered fingers pressing against your shoulder to make sure he gets the right angle. Your first dip into the tattoo world as going to be a small one; just a watercolour style tattoo after extensive research. Jay had frequently tattooed Hoseok over the years and so had been Hoseok’s number one recommendation, leading to him creating a pretty little cherry blossom flower design.

The first press of the tiny needles makes you flinch slightly as they begin to prick and you wince at the slight sting before breathing out slowly. It’s not as bad as you’d thought it was going to be in reality though you certainly wouldn’t want to have to sit for hours upon hours and have large, intense pieces done as Hoseok does. Still, you felt like this was a little bonding moment between you the two of you.

Even if there was a third person here, but whatever.

You weren’t getting the tattoo because of him exactly, but you wouldn’t deny that he’d been a big part of why you’d finally made the decision. Tattoos have always been something that you thought were pretty but they were also something you’d never considered getting as they were permanent. But Hoseok’s love and pride for his own had led to you gaining a new appreciation for them too.

When you’d told him that you wanted to get one, and what kind of style you wanted as well, Hoseok hadn’t asked if you had a special meaning behind it. One of his philosophies, when it came to tattoos, was that you didn’t always need to have a special reason to get a tattoo. It was more than acceptable to get something just because you thought it looked cool or pretty.

You’d discovered early on in your relationship that Hoseok had a real axe to grind against anyone who wanted to gatekeep tattoos and make it so that you always had to have some sentimental reasoning for it. He’d said something along the lines of ‘this isn’t fucking American Idol or X-Factor and you don’t need to have some dying relative to get it. Just get something cos it looks badass if you want.’.

But you did personally have a reason for getting it. Firstly, you’d made sure that Jay made it look pretty enough that you wanted to go through with the pain and have it on you. The second reason, which was incredibly cheesy and you’d rather die than tell anyone the meaning because you can’t handle emotions well, is because it’s a flower.

Part of it was that you’d met Hoseok on an app called Flower, which had led to the most important relationship you’d ever had. It wasn’t his name or anything, but more symbolic of how you’d met. The other major reason for it was that it was a symbol of how much you’d grown over the past year, becoming more confident in yourself and accepting that while you may have weaknesses, they didn’t make you weak overall.

Your research had shown that the cherry blossom, aside from just looking pretty, was also seen as the symbol of renewal and life. They’re only around for a few days, maybe a few weeks, every year but they’re bright symbols of beauty and happiness. Your own life had been renewed in the last year with all the changes that you’d experienced and you just wanted a little reminder that your while you’d struggled, your life was just as bright.

And that kind of cheesy talk was exactly why you wouldn’t explain the meaning to anyone. Not that Hoseok had pried too hard, though you were certain he’d probably at least figured out the whole Flower app connection. He hadn’t mentioned anything though.

As a result, you’d decided to get the tattoo on your first anniversary together. Which obviously, was today. It truly boggled your mind to realise that you’d been in a relationship for a whole year now. A year of being romantic with someone and them not getting bored or tired of you. Hoseok was still here and he loved you more than ever.

Technically, you didn’t have an actual anniversary. Neither of you had formally asked the other to be in a relationship. It had ended up being one of those weird adult relationships where you just start dating and just never stop. As a result, you’d both agreed that you’d the anniversary of your first date to symbolise the beginning of your relationship.

It was the first time you’d been together after all, and neither of you had even looked at anyone else since then. A whole year later, including many moments of bickering, confusion, anxiety, panic attacks, depression and moving your whole life around, here you both were. Still together, very much in love and tentatively looking forward to the future.

As a result of moving in the last month, the two of you had initially agreed not to get presents for each other today as a lot of money had been spent buying the things you needed to fill and decorate the house. Yet it had become quickly apparent that you both seemed to have secretly agreed to spoil the other with the excuse of ‘it’s our first anniversary, I can’t just get you nothing!’ being thrown around a lot.

You’d been bought the cutest fluffy Pikachu that you’d spotted in a store earlier today and he’d promised to pay for this tattoo given it was your first. And you weren’t any better as you’d bought him the BluRay boxset of the Godfather along with a gift box of flavoured teas that he’d been surprisingly excited over.

After your meltdown in the house the other week, it felt nice to be back to being happy. You still weren’t completely content or settled, but you’d managed to get yourself to relax enough to not snap or get grumpy with Hoseok anymore. The house was mostly finished with only the yard needing to be done, but you’d both agreed to wait until springtime for that.

It didn’t feel like home yet, but you knew it was just a matter of time.

But yeah, your anniversary was going pretty great so far. Even if you were having to put up with being pricked hundreds of times with the tattoo gun. You tried your hardest to ignore it and instead focused on Hoseok. He was busy talking to Jay while occasionally stroking his thumb over your hand, absentmindedly comforting you.

Looking him over carefully, you took the time to simply admire him. How you’d managed to end up with such a stunningly handsome man as your boyfriend, you’d never know. Or understand, not that you were ever going to complain. What was even more baffling to you was the fact that along with being one of the most beautiful people you’d ever seen, he had a heart that was perhaps even more beautiful.

You were sure that if you’d ended up dating anyone else, you would have probably had multiple arguments that resulted in someone storming out by now. Or the relationship would have been ended long ago. Yet the most you’d done with Hoseok was bicker over small things with the incident the other week being the most friction you’ve had so far.

That was probably solely down to the fact Hoseok seemed to the unnatural patience of a saint. Something you didn’t take for granted, that was for sure. Just the thought of it has an overwhelming surge of love swelling in your chest.

You wished that you were the kind of person who could easily vocalise your feelings. It frustrated you eternally that you weren’t because there were so many times you wanted to tell him you love him. Instead, you gently poke at his hand with your free hand. Happiness fills you as he smiles at your way of telling him that you love him, poking your calf gently in response while carrying on his conversation.

He’d probably never realise how important he was to you. How much he’d helped you to grow as a person and with your personality. You owed him a lot and you would happily spend as long as he let you repay it. Not that he’d like that idea if you told him of course, but you didn’t care. You loved him, more than he’d ever know.

Tuning back into the conversation, you realise that they’ve been talking about the next tattoo that Hoseok wants. He was planning on getting a watercolour style tattoo similar to yours only he was contemplating having it be space-themed to match his sleeve. Jay is nodding as he discusses options with Hoseok, occasionally checking on you with a gentle touch before carrying on once he realises you’re okay.

And then the conversation moves back round to you and your tattoo. Jay had designed it after Hoseok had made the appointment for you and you’d emailed over what you were thinking. He’d sent over the design and tweaked it to your desire and finally, you were here today, getting it done.

But apart from that, he didn’t have much knowledge of why you wanted it. Given Hoseok was a long time client of his, he had trusted that your boyfriend had given you enough information to make sure you were knowledgeable at what you were getting into. He’d sent over stuff as well but you’d discussed it in depth with Hoseok to make sure you were comfortable.

“So how come you decided today to get your first tattoo? And I’m honoured to be the artist you chose by the way.” Jay says, his tone sweet and you look to him giving Hoseok a slightly sarcastic smile. He’s given one back by your boyfriend and you snort, rolling your eyes at their interaction. As if Hoseok would let you go to anyone else other than his trusted artist.

“Err well...I’ve been considering it a while but wasn’t sure whether to get it or not. And Hoseok said I should try and go to you if I did want it as you’ve always done good work for him, so...yeah. I just decided I want it.” You mumble out, shy at explaining why you’d finally gotten a tattoo. There’s nothing more to say on that and Hoseok squeezes your hand in reassurance before taking over the conversation for you.

“And it’s today because it’s our anniversary so...why not get your first tattoo on your first anniversary, right?” Hoseok grins broadly, letting his fingers lace with your own and you feel yourself go warm at his pride and the affection laced into his voice. Jay pauses what he’s doing for a moment to look at you both with surprise.

“It’s your anniversary today? Oh man, congrats. Happy anniversary,” You grin at his good wishes for you both before he carries on, the needles pressing into your skin once more. “A whole year, that’s great. How did you both meet then?”

Hoseok glances at you with a small smile, wrinkling his nose slightly until you give him a smile in response. He seems happy with that and kisses your hand once more, playing with your fingers as his gaze turns back to Jay.

“Online dating, believe it or not.” There’s a snort of what sounds like amusement from behind and you frown, wondering what’s so amusing about that. Lots of people get together through online dating. That’s the whole point of it. Or is it that someone like Hoseok was on an online dating service? It still confused you, in fairness.

“Oh yeah? Take one look at the pretty lady and decide she was going to be your girl?” He teases and you see Hoseok’s smile turn devilish.

“More like she saw this handsome specimen and decided she wanted a piece of that.” Now you’re the one pulling a face at him, rolling your eyes at his bravado while being secretly amused the whole time. He wasn’t wrong in reality, only you hadn’t been quite as bold as he made you out to be.

“Would you and your ego like some space? I’m sure I can arrange that for you. Also, we love a woman who knows what she wants and goes for it.” Jay applauds you, smirking at Hoseok’s outraged face in pure glee and you can’t help but laugh softly at them both. It was obvious they’ve known each other awhile with how they interacted and you liked how Jay made you feel at ease.

“It wasn’t as...bold as that.” You murmur shyly, looking down at your hands as you recall the panic and anxiety you’d felt after messaging Hoseok the first time. It was hard to believe you’d come so far since then. Even harder to believe that outrageously attractive man was now not only your boyfriend but living with you.

“Ignore her. She’s weirdly bold in ways you wouldn’t expect. But anyway, yeah. Officially one year together today. Can you believe it?! Me? In a relationship with the prettiest and funniest girl for a whole year?” Hoseok snorts as he makes an incredulous face while Jay laughs as well.

You’re not sure what to make of that at first before you recall that they’ve known each other years and Hoseok had been pretty notorious before you. Though his compliment does make you squirm in embarrassment, a desperate need to deny his words bubbling inside you.

“I’d say it’s shocking but honestly, you’ve been looking at her with the biggest heart eyes this whole time. So not really. I’m happy for you both though.” He says and you can practically hear the smile in his voice even though you can’t see him. It’s not too long before he’s finished with you, cleaning up and showing what your tattoo looked like to you to make sure you’re happy and then covering it.

You were beyond pleased with the tattoo, excitement flooding through you as you’d looked over it and realised it was even better than you’d hoped for. Grinning at Hoseok as you stood up, you gripped his hands tightly before wiggling with a bright smile.

“It’s so pretty!” He’s smiling at you in agreement as Jay cleans up his workstation before you all move over to the front desk to pay. The sweet receptionist from earlier is there, covered in even more tattoos and piercings than both men with you. At her request, you show off your new tattoo with a happy smile and accept her compliments with joy.

“How much again?” Hoseok asks, pulling out his wallet. You frown at him immediately, lips pursing into a pout as you remember he’d said that he was going to pay for it but he just tuts at you, shaking his head. “Shh, anniversary present, remember?”

Pushing at his stomach lightly, you sigh as you realise you’re not going to win this argument. Not that you were even arguing really, but you knew that Hoseok would refuse point blank to let you pay for this. Plus, you would admit to enjoying being spoiled by him sometimes. It wasn’t something you were used to but you couldn’t help enjoying it when he did it.

“Actually, it’s on the house today,” Jay says with a smirk, looking you both over with what looks suspiciously like fondness in his eyes. “Consider it my present to you both for your anniversary. Maybe you can make this a little tradition and I’ll see you both for many more years.”

Hoseok is silent and you look up to see his jaw dropped. It’s not often you get to see him so surprised and you can’t stop the giggle that leaves you at the sight of it. Smiling at Jay, you thank him profusely and squeeze Hoseok until he’s muttering out thanks as well.

“It’s nothing. Use that money to spoil your girl today. And I hope you’re okay with being spoiled.” Jay grins, tilting his head at you as he practically gives you both an order. It might not be overly feminist of you right now but you certainly weren’t going to say no to it. You’d never had an anniversary before and damn it, you wanted the full experience!

“I will, I promise. Thanks, man.” Hoseok reaches forward and does that whole man hug thing with Jay, causing you to roll your eyes with the receptionist in amusement. Jay doesn’t try anything with you and you suspect Hoseok had probably told him you weren’t fond of physical contact from others. Instead, he gives you a nod of goodbye as you both leave.

“That was nice of him.” You murmur, brow rising as you take Hoseok’s hand and link your fingers together. He hums in acknowledgement, lips twisting slightly as a light frown touches his forehead.

“It was. So you like your tattoo?”

“I do, it’s so pretty. I didn’t think it’d look this good but...I like it.” Smiling up at him sweetly, you don’t miss the way Hoseok’s eyes soften as he looks down at you. Jay was right, he did go all heart eyes around you. Not that you were going to complain though.

“Good, I’m glad. I’ll make sure we look after it properly. For now, though, I’m hungry so how about we go get something to eat?” He throws his arm around your shoulder, hands still linked together so that you end up with your arm crossing over your chest. Laughing at the movement, you happily push into his side as he pulls you even tighter to him before agreeing.

“Okay, but you pick. We’ve been sat there for over an hour now just for me. Your choice.” Hoseok’s about to complain before sighing and giving in, letting go of your hand to purse his lips as he hums in contemplation. Your lower lip juts out at the loss of contact with him and you momentarily pause in bemusement at how much you’ve come to love physical affection from him when you dislike it from others.

“Let’s recreate our first date and go to the Indian restaurant. Only this time, let’s not talk about girls throwing up on my dick and end the date with us going home and having some hot anniversary sex instead.” Raising a brow at him, your lip quirks in amusement momentarily.

“You never cease to amaze me when horny, you know that? You just literally talked about someone vomiting on your dick and then went straight into having sex. Ew.” Wrinkling your nose, Hoseok snorts in amusement before grinning broadly.

“Look, we’ve established many times by now that when I’m horny, my IQ drops to almost single digits. Anyway, we’re not doing it now. We’re gonna eat and then go do it.” Laughing, you stop to wrap your arms around his waist and hug him tightly, resting your chin on your chest to look up at him as a confusing array of positive emotions bubbles and swirls around your body.

“Okay...that sounds good…” You trail off, brows creasing as you feel so many words and emotions stalling in your throat. Like a lump, you can’t get past. Instead, you squeeze him harder before pushing up onto your tiptoes to kiss him. He lets you, amusement causing him to chuckle slightly as he carefully hugs you back.

“I love you too. Now let’s go eat, I’m so damn hungry you can probably feel my belly rumbling.”

Wincing slightly, Hoseok manages to shift until his arm is sliding out from underneath you. Massaging feeling back into it, he clenches and unclenches his hand before settling onto his back more comfortably. As much as he loved to cuddle you at night, he did often end up with a dead arm.

Sighing quietly, he stares up into the darkness of the bedroom. Your breathing is slow and steady, a calming and soothing sound to his ears as you sleep comfortably. Without even realising it, he's smiling gently before glancing over at you.

A whole year. He'd been with you for a whole year. If someone had told him this two years ago, he'd have laughed. Even though he was in a much better place than when he was a teenager, he knew that some part of him had avoided relationships. Like he still hadn't felt worthy of one.

He did now. He had to. You didn't deserve anything less. And if that sounded cheesy then dammit, it was his first anniversary. He was allowed.

Thinking over everything that has happened in the last year, he feels immense pride at how much you've grown. How comfortable you've become in yourself around him. How happy you are. There were bumps along the road of course, but the two of you had gotten through it.

Expanding his cheeks almost childishly, he lets out a slow and deep breath as he contemplates just how mushy he's being. If the guys could hear his thoughts…

And it's then that he realises he hasn't even posted anything today. Nothing to declare to the world that you'd both made it a year. Even when people hadn't expected you both to last a month.

Grabbing his phone from the nightstand, he unlocks it and opens Instagram. Choosing the right pictures takes him a solid 10 minutes. He has so many and he wants to make sure that you'll approve of each picture that he chooses.

Finally, though, he settles on them. A selfie of you both grinning broadly from today, the photo of him kissing your cheek from his birthday, a picture of you sat reading a book in your old apartment, a selfie of the two of you kissing and finally, a picture of you holding Kasumi and smiling so big.

Each one gets edited carefully until he's happy with them, moving forward to the part where he has to write. Glancing at the time on his phone, he sees that he has fifteen minutes left of his anniversary.

So he starts to write.

Jungsevenfold: Today we celebrated our first anniversary!

One whole year of being with the funniest, kindest and on occasion, strangest, girl I've ever met. I've learnt many things being with you, from discovering I like board games to the fact it's a bad idea to destroy the moon.

I'm never quite sure what you're going to say and I love that. I love the way your mind works, what you find funny and so much more. We're often told we're mismatched but I think it's working out. Better than anyone thought.

I think this is long enough and mushy enough, so I'll finish up. Y/N, my princess, my little meeple; I love you ❤🥰. So may we have many more years!

/cheesiness

Posting it, Hoseok watches it upload and feels a momentary pang of embarrassment at what he'd written. But glancing back over to you, he pushes it away. You deserve for him to yell his feelings.

Rolling over, he places his phone back before smiling to himself and wriggling into the covers. You're hard enough on yourself, so if a little embarrassment on his behalf can make you smile.. then it's worth it.

456 notes · View notes

keyofjetwolf · 3 years

Text

We’re All Just Guys

Well it took the entire fucking season, but I FINALLY get the purpose for Henry Fondle: Sex Robot. And while the entire episode (and season, honestly) has been tremendous, that this ridiculous fucking punchline was the vehicle to deliver the overarching point with a solid knockout punch of meaning AND pathos? Absolutely floored. That BoJack Horseman can be (and often is) brilliant isn’t a surprise, but the ways is keeps proving it often are.

So “The Stopped Show”, a tale of accountability and responsibility and how we’re all just guys.

Each of our main characters closes out this season alone (sort of), in assorted stages of realizing the main themes, or completely failing to. I find Diane’s arc the hardest for me to make a decision on, which isn’t surprising, as I think in many ways, Diane’s the most complicated character in the show. She delivers, directly and succinctly, one of the major points of not just this season but the entire show, but how does it relate to her? I’M NOT COMPLETELY SURE. I think part of the problem with (and for) Diane is that she knows better. She’s the most insightful character, she has a fantastic head on her shoulders, but only for everyone else. She’s this fucked up little disaster prophet, her vision clear and her message concise, unable to ever apply her gifts to fix herself.

Diane is just as trapped as BoJack, but in a fun twist, is now lagging behind him in trying to do something about it. Nearly every single scene with Diane this season has been in this sad little room of her sad little apartment with all her sad little unpacked boxes, and no matter how much truth and wisdom she spits out, HERE SHE STILL IS, failing to correctly assemble IKEA furniture with names like Bȧcksleid. She already feels like shit for sleeping with Mr. Peanutbutter, so what does she do? THE SAME FUCKING THING. To which I groan and roll my eyes, while simultaneously being proud of her for directly and immediately setting him straight about not getting back together. Diane rides this constant line where she gets it but also doesn’t, which is so interesting to me in the level of additional frustration this makes me feel. BoJack is so self-absorbed you don’t really expect any better of him, which has the flip side of your expectations being so low that even the whiff of progress feels exceptional. Diane doesn’t come with any of that though, she knows better, you KNOW she knows better, and the consequence of this for the audience is that she winds up being more unlikeable than the guy who literally last episode nearly strangled his girlfriend and co-star in the middle of a paranoid drug-induced frenzy.

Which is fucked up! It’s intensely fucked up! And also, I think, the point! We expect more of Diane, and so feel more disappointed when she doesn’t deliver. Is that fair of us?

But there’s more here, as we pivot to the accountability portion of this episode/season. From the beginning of the show, it’s been incredibly upfront about how everything is unfair. We come back to this time and again. Privilege rules the day in the world of Hollywoo. Fame, money, charisma, gender, power. BoJack has been an asshole from pretty much the moment he set foot in the spotlight (possibly before?), and the only thing ever even attempting to hold him back has been the moments his guilt manages to scream loud enough to be heard over his internal narrative. Whatever he does, however he fucks up, he always stumbles back to his feet, and NEVER with any (broad scale) consequences. Meanwhile, here’s Diane, in her sad shitty apartment. Consequences haunt Diane, even if she’s the one doing the haunting. The crap things she’s done and the shitty choices she’s made cling to her.

There’s no fairness in that either, no justice. But Hollywoo (and the entire world around it) (and our world too oh yes) has that privilege carved into its bones, and Diane bears none of its marks. Her situation is very different from but parallel to Gina, who is just so fucked over, it keeps legitimately making me angry for her.

Gina, of course, brought none of this on herself. She made the mistake of caring about BoJack and trying to help him. OOPS YOU WERE A GENEROUS PERSON WITH AN OPEN HEART FUCK YOU LADY. For her trouble, Gina has been assaulted and traumatized, AND she is in very real danger of her career being over when it’s only just finally beginning. And she KNOWS THIS. That’s the part that I keep coming back to. All this should be an aberration, an anomaly, and while that may be true of the specifics, conceptually, it’s so commonplace that Gina already knows how it’s going to play. She’ll stop being Gina and become The Woman Nearly Strangled To Death By BoJack Horseman. Even if she’s able to keep working, this is what she’ll be asked about in every interview forever. Even if she convinced people to genuinely listen to her, BoJack would, at worst, get a slap on the wrist as he stumbles back to his feet. We know that, WE ALL KNOW THAT, because it happens all. the. fucking. time. Gina did nothing wrong, but this would still define her for the rest of her life, while for BoJack, it would maybe become a footnote on his Wikipedia page.

Nothing about that is FAIR. Nothing about it is JUST. Gina’s choices shouldn’t have to be “this becomes my entire life” or “swallow this down and pretend it never happened”. But it is, as it has been in perpetuity for the victims of the privileged.

So then what can we do about it? Well that’s really the question, isn’t it? This episode answers it in an assortment of ways (I think the entire SHOW is very much about this, really, but this episode is for sure coming with guns blazing), while also showing us why none of those answers can work. It’s funny and sad and awful and true, but also, ultimately, the most hopeful answer because it’s the only one you can actually affect: It’s you. It’s me. It’s each and every one of us, individually, making a choice to be better.

And believe it or not, we embody this with Henry Fondle: Sex Robot.

I thought the whole thing was so unbelievably stupid. Half the season, we’ve had this goddamn multi-dildo’d juvenile frat boy joke running around with its stupid ass Speak-and-Say voice, doing the same shtick over and over, and I’m like, “okay this is just the shit I have to put up with to get the clever stuff, I guess.” BUT THAT’S EXACTLY THE POINT I’M SITTING THERE LIVING THE ENTIRE GODDAMN POINT AND MISSING IT. Henry Fondle: Sex Robot is seventeen shades of overt horribleness, AND WE ALL JUST GIVE IT A PASS. It’s just the way it is, the way the world works, the price of doing business. When the whole time -- THE ENTIRE FUCKING TIME -- all it took was one person to say no. One person who could see the game we all are playing and was willing to give up everything to stop it.

Hilariously, Henry Fondle IS a metaphor, sort of, but of the saddest kind. He is literally a robot, he can’t possibly change. What’s more, media fervor will never affect him, fallout will never touch him, and the powerful will always rally around themselves to retain their power. It takes Todd, the head of the company, the creator of Henry Fondle, and the one person who would benefit most from the unending efforts of the rest of the world bending over backwards to avoid the truth, to put a stop to it. In doing so, he immediately returns to his old, homeless, destitute self, but doesn’t once hesitate or look back.

It’s Todd, and only Todd, that stops that madness, because while individual people are a problem, the world at large is too. Stefani makes a great point that Diane holds herself and everyone else to impossible standards and a little forgiveness and grace wouldn’t go amiss, but when Diane suggests they apply that philosophy to their clickbait gossipy shit on their website, it’s just

Which again, is beautifully cynical and depressing, but not untrue. Fostering a more forgiving culture isn’t in stopping websites from posting clickbaity takedown articles, it’s each person deciding not to take the clickbait. We can absolutely have a conversation about the people creating their world or the world creating its people, but when you boil it down, only one of those things can you yourself absolutely and directly change, and it’s not the entire world.

A THING DIANE GETS BUT SIMULTANEOUSLY ABSOLUTELY DOES NOT.

I can’t take myself away from this Diane thing, I know, but only because she’s the fucking CORE of each and every one of us struggling with this idea. She’s the simplicity of it and the complication all in one. Not BoJack, which is NOT where I thought we’d be when we started this journey. BoJack is more an action on the people around him at this point in the story, he IS the world you cannot change. He’s pointed to rehab, and off he goes -- or doesn’t! I don’t think it’s coincidence that we stay with Diane and watch her watching him.

Oh, Diane, indeed. As she tells her story of her friend Abby, who threw her over for the cool kids, who turned every confidence into a scar. Who Diane still helped anyway, because Abby needed her. Did Abby learn from that, did she get better? We don’t know; we stay with Diane and watch her watching Abby. Diane, who can so completely understand about personal responsibility while failing to recognize her own enabling for the shitty things that keep happening to her.

You can control yourself. That’s it. That’s the only playground with a guarantee.

Will BoJack go off to learn that? Will Diane stay and figure it out?

THAT’S WHAT NEXT SEASON IS FOR

Something I was toying with including in this, but ultimately decided against for a variety of reasons, was the contrast between BoJack’s take on personal responsibility independent of external response, and The Good Place’s argument that people need external support for personal growth. An idea I may not have even considered contrasting save that Doc’s talked before about these two Jewish creators with what are clearly very different philosophies, and basically, if she were ever able to manage a discussion between them on this, I’d love to be in the room. I’ll be very quiet and not get in the way, I promise.

#jet wolf watches bojack #a novel by jet wolf #this has been so hard to write and consolidate into a series of thoughts that made some measure of cohesive sense #i'm still not sure i've managed it #but i'm pretty sure i've kicked it around about as much as i'm able at this point #IT WORKS OR IT DOESN'T I DON'T KNOW FLY MY PRETTY

20 notes · View notes

maybedefinitely404 · 4 years

Text

Day 5: Logicality

@tsshipmonth2020

Day 5 - Any intense emotions your soulmate feels you will also experience.

Content Warning: strong emotion (duh), yelling, food mentions (one line).

Word count: 1.8k

He remembered back in high school, when things had gotten rough for him. Not that they had a reason to. Virgil had told him countless times that it was okay that he didn’t have a reason, he was allowed to feel sad just because, but his childhood friend’s words meant nothing during the times he was curled up on his bed at three am with a black hole in his chest, quietly sobbing apologies to the soulmate that could certainly feel his sadness as intensely as he did. If it was just him suffering, it wouldn’t have been so bad.

When university began, and his mental health began to improve, Patton was giddy. It took him a few months to adjust to missing his family, getting used to the crowded dorms, and the increased pressure of classes. Except now the classes were about things he really enjoyed, clearly pushing him forward in his Psychology career, and the people were so much nicer than in highschool. Bullies didn’t really… exist in college, not the way they did back there, and he found himself flourishing.

But now, no longer constantly focused on his mental health and that alone, a part of him, deep inside, was a little bit worried that he didn’t even have a soulmate. He never really felt the strong emotions his friends claimed to feel, emotions clearly detached from them but oh so real. Virgil was privy to spurts of pure courage, almost ecstasy, that would have him jumping off his bed to pace on the floor with a huge grin stretched across his face, trying to dispel the energy. Janus, a friend he made in one of his psych classes, sometimes talked about the negative emotions he got from his soulmate, the surges of hatred and bitterness that made him curl his slender fingers around the nearest object until it snapped or his fingers cramped up. The borrowed emotion, both good and bad, were something Patton hadn’t experienced yet, and the implications of that frightened him. He wanted a soulmate so badly… he would be crushed if he didn’t have one.

These were the thoughts rushing through his mind as the three of them walked into Philosophy 109, Virgil and Janus having an animated conversation about last classes homework. Something about Karl Marx; he wasn’t sure what they were torn about, exactly. He always had a tough time listening in this class, not due to the content of the lectures, but just because something about the prof set him on edge. Virgil offered that ‘his voice is kind of irritating’ and Janus pitched in that ‘his slides are always sloppy’, but none of that was quite… it. It wasn’t anything he could put a finger on, but just walking into the classroom had him stewing slightly.

Just as Janus was seemingly reaching the peak of his arguments, hands waving wildly, Virgil dug his elbow into Patton’s ribs.

“Hey, did you want to get dinner after class or wait until before English?”

The elbow in his side hurt, and before he realized what he was doing, Patton had shoved Virgil off of him. The shorter man stumbled, nearly knocking into the professor that had just walked into the room before catching his balance. His brows furrowed.

“Dude, you good?”

Patton’s eyes widened, almost comically, “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry. I don’t know where that came from. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Virgil glanced at Janus, who merely shrugged, “Class is about to start.” He gestured meekly at their usual table and they sat, Patton taking the aisle spot before Janus could. Another look was shared between the other two. Patton was usually overly eager to sit in the middle, giggling at Virgil’s snarky notes and stealing Janus’ snacks, but right now he felt on edge. Defensive. Angry.

Huh- that was new.

His leg shook under the table as the professor greeted the class, nearly knocking Virgil’s travel mug off the table if it weren’t for his quick reflexes. He was running frantically through his mind, trying to find the trigger that had caused his anger. The day so far had been nothing unusual; morning classes and lunch at the cafeteria (grilled cheese, heck yeah), study session with the dorm in the lawn outside his building. Nothing had gone wrong, and even if this prof wasn’t his favorite, it wasn’t anything he couldn't get over so why-

Oh.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, it occurred to him that these weren’t his feelings. This wasn’t him. And that thought alone should have snapped him out of it, should have made him jump up and dance on the table because oh my goodness he actually has a soulmate, his worries were for nothing!

Except he couldn’t. Virgil’s concerned glances were increasing in frequency as his pen dug into his paper, trying his hardest to concentrate on the lecture over the raging blood in his ears. His teeth hurt, and he realized he was clenching his jaw hard enough to bite through rock. His leg still jittered, his notes were becoming more sloppy, and for the love of god, if this prof doesn’t stop talking I’m going to-

“WILL YOU SHUT THE HELL UP ALREADY?”

At first, Patton thought he was the one who said it. His note paper had been ripped from his notebook, crumpled beneath his fist, and Virgil and Janus sure both looked shocked enough. But then the voice continued, coming from the back of the class.

“You’re a terrible professor, are you aware of that?! Did you get your teaching degree from a fucking Dollar Store?! I’m surprised you graduated middle school, you half-witted, socially insensitive, entitled, piece of-”

“Mr. Starr, out of my classroom! Now!” The prof bellowed, causing Virgil to shrink into his hoodie. The man flew past the three of them, slamming the door behind him. Patton didn’t even realize he was following him, water bottle in hand, until the prof tried to call him back to his seat, which he ignored.

That was his soulmate, he was sure of it.

By the time he was standing in the empty hallway, his rage had started to calm down. His hand was starting to unfurl, leaving red crescents in his palms from his nails, but he could still feel the simmering anger rolling and lapping at his insides. Curling around his stomach, pushing at his heart, twisting in his fingertips like a flag in a gentle wind.

A slam down the hallway reminded Patton of what he’d set out to do, and he took off after the sound, hoping and praying that he wouldn’t lose the man he was chasing. After that freak-out, he wouldn’t be surprised if the man dropped the class, since he obviously hated the prof so much. And he didn’t get a good enough look at him, so if he lost him now, who’s to say when he would find him again?

Patton exited the building, assuming this was the door he’d heard a moment ago, panting slightly. He surveyed the parking lot desperately, the lawn surrounding the building, the walkways leading across the campus like vines, and… yes! There he was, standing against one of the trees, head tucked to his chest, hands shoved into his pockets almost aggressively.

This is stupid, what are you even going to say? He pondered as he crossed the grass quickly, sizing up the man in front of him. Black button up, blue jeans, hair pushed out of his face, and Patton was reminded of just how gay he was. This man was gorgeous, in an I-could-kill-you kind of way.

He didn’t acknowledge Patton as he approached, but he could see the man watching him out of the corner of his eye suspiciously. Wordlessly, Patton handed him the bottle of water, trying to hide a smile when he took it hesitantly, popping the top off and taking a sip.

“Thank you.”

“No problem,” Patton squeaked, taking it back when he was done.

“I didn’t expect anyone to follow me.”

“Well…” He gestured to himself lightly, giggling, “I’m here.”

The man stood his ground, seemingly uncomfortable with the attention, “You don’t have to stay. I wouldn’t want you to fall behind.”

“Nonsense!” Patton grinned, “I’ll just steal a friend’s notes. Plus, I’m sure you need someone to talk to.”

“I don’t want to bother you-”

“I’m not bothered! I’m serious. Sit down.” Patton gestured at the ground, flopping down onto the lawn. He looked at him warily, like he was weighing the pros and cons in his head, before joining him, leaning against the tree.

“I’m Patton, by the way.”

“Logan.”

“Nice to meet ya, Logan! So, why d'ya scream at Jacobson like that?” He said it lightly, but he didn’t miss the slight wince from the other.

“I’m sorry you had to see that. I’m not generally one to lose my temper. It’s just…” He looked like he wanted to apologize more, stop talking, like he was being a nuisance. Patton gave him what he hoped was a reassuring smile and a nod, which seemed to be enough to spur the other on.

“I can’t stand him. He injects his own philosophies and values into the concepts we’re studying, and it muddles the main ideologies to the point where it’s hardly about the original topic anymore. It’s as if he’s teaching a course on himself.”

“Why don’t you just drop it?” He hadn’t meant it to sound so cutting, but if Logan was bothered, he didn’t show it in the small shake of his head.

“I need the credit. And by the time I realized how flawed his lessons are, it was past the drop date. I didn’t have time to fill out the paperwork, so I figured I’d muscle through it.”

“Well… it is half way through the semester, so you did pretty good.”

He murmured something under his breath that Patton didn’t catch, something that sounded suspiciously like ‘not good enough’, before looking up to meet Patton’s eyes for the first time. Boy oh boy, if Patton hadn’t been able to breathe before, he was fairly certain he would die at this point.

“Why did you follow me?”

It was at that point that it occurred to Patton: he had no proof. Sure, the rise and peak of his mysterious anger coincided perfectly with Logan’s outburst, but if their interaction so far was anything to go by, this guy wouldn’t fully trust something that wasn’t one hundred percent factual. Claiming to be his soulmate might just scare him away, and for all that was good and holy, Patton didn’t want that to happen. So… he’d waited nineteen years to meet his soulmate, he could take it slow. Bring up his history with depression, the emotions that Logan must have felt at the same time, and maybe, hopefully, let him come to his own conclusions. He wasn’t in a rush.

“I just thought you might want a friend.”

#lywrites #tsshipmonth2020 #sanders sides #logicality #patton sanders #logan sanders #janus sanders #virgil sanders #sanders sides fanfiction #sanderssides #ts soulmate au

142 notes · View notes

storytime-with-moth · 3 years

Text

Writing modern teen Dad Sokka (zukka uni)

I wrote this a few months ago, but I ran out of steam and inspiration, so anyone is welcome to take this on and finish it as their own or take it as a prompt and try there own story.

Summer of grade 11, Sokka and Yue spend the whole summer as lifeguards, soaking up the sun, making each other laugh and dreaming of the future.

One night it’s just the two of them in the pool after it’s closed, you can see the full moon through the windows above, Sokka and Yue lay on floaties driving around the pool.

“Hey Sokka?”

“Hmm?”

“What do you want to be when you grow up?”

Sokka laughs “Haven’t heard that since I was a kid and I wanted to be and otter penguin - and no I have no idea where that came from.”

Yue turns over so she can look Sokka in the eyes. “Seriously though, what do you want to do when you can leave this small town and its small ideas.

Sokka could tell that there was more behind the question but tired answering it honestly “I dunno exactly “What” I want to be, but I think I would like to build things, useful things too. And I’m not really a car guy or a building guy.”

Yue snorts “Ya not a car guy, says the guy who failed to get his license twice!”

“Hey!” Sokka splashes yue playfully. “Okay okay, I have been looking the some of the research into mixing prosthetics with robotics and focusing more on make prosthetics one with the body, I don’t know much about it yet. But I guess I started reading all about them and I kinda became obsessed.”

“what about hockey?”

“I love hockey, and the coaches at school think I’m good enough to get scholarships, so if hockey helps support an actual career for me I’m all for it, but I know I want to do more than catch pucks my whole life, I want to really use my brain and solve puzzles.”

“hmm” Yue turned over and looked back at the moon thoughtful.

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Well as you so gracefully put it, what do you want to do when you can leave this place that’s too small for you and your big ideas and dreams?”

“Well when you put it like that… I want to travel, see places, important places. I want to fall in love, out of love, I want to have enough friends that my house is always filled with good food and loud laughter. I want to be a Mom someday, I think maybe I want to go to school and study philosophy, not sure what kind of job that leads to but I want to ask questions, the big questions like why are we here, what is a life well spent?”

“Whoa”

“Ya… Whoa”

“and have you talked to your dad about that?

“Sort of, and it sort of didn’t go well.”

“he’s still set on you making the Canadian swim team? Duty to country and family stuff?”

“YeP” she said as she popped the P

“That sucks”

“indeed it does”

They floated around in silence for a bit longer.

“Hey Sokka?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you want to have sex?”

Sokka promptly fell into the water, Yue’s laugh echoing around the empty pool.

They did indeed tumble into bed together that night, an awkward interaction for both of them that ended with the laughing covered in sweat. That morning when Sokka woke up Yue was already sitting on his bed looking at his doodles on the walls.

“Sokka I love you, I do, and I honestly thought maybe I loved you like a girl loves a guy, but I think I just love you because you're my best friend.”

“Ookaaay. I think I should add in you’re my best friend too? Because you’re being weird”

Yue looked to her hands in her lap and a tear fell to her hand. “Sokka, think I might like girls.”

She said it so quietly that it took a second for Sokka to understand what she had just told him.

“Whoa, no I mean, Cool! That’s fine. I support you, wait was I really bad last night?”

Yue’s tears quickly turn into laughs “No you idiot! You ere great, it just wasn’t right”

“Okay well cool then…..”

“Cool then”

“promise you won’t tell?”

“Yue, I promise I won’t tell! I can even pretend to be your boyfriend so your dad can’t freak out, and we can totally go to the girls soccer games this year if you want?”

“Sokka I love you, you big dummy”

“Well I love you to, to the moon and back dreamer”

___________________________________

So Sokka and Yue were still best friends and they spent the fall attached at the hip, and when Yue found out she was expecting a baby and her parents kicked her out, Sokka just grabbed her hand and her backpack and walked into his house stating that Yue lived here now.

Hakoda and Bato nodded and welcomed her home, Katara squealed and fawned over becoming an auntie.

And for a while things were good, they were complicated as they prepared to become teen parents, co parenting as best friends, both of them aiming for scholarships and working part-time gigs whenever they could to save up. But life was happy, they were going to have a baby.

But then things went wrong, Yue went into labour 6 weeks early, her pressure dropped, the baby’s dropped, there was blood, there were doctors everywhere, then there was a small shrill cry, more moving and running and yelling. Then there was a lot of quiet.

Yue died in labour, their baby was in the NICU for three weeks to improve her lungs and even then doctors were worried about how premature she was. Finally after weeks camped out in a hospital next to his baby in a box or in his bed in the dark or the shower staring at the wall, he could bring his daughter home. She was going to be okay.

Her name was Juno Kya Last name, and she was perfect, wide hazel eyes like her Mom, and the sharp cupids bow like Kya, it looked like she would have Sokka’s dark hair and complexion. She watched everything with curious eyes, and didn’t cry unless she was hungry or tired which was often the first few months. But Bato and Hakkoda loved their granddaughter to bits and helped with everything. The diapers, the late feedings, the tummy time, the grieving.

The grieving was the hardest. Mostly because he was to busy trying to be there as a Dad and as a student and as a team player. He spent so long being there for everyone else that one night once hockey season was over and Katara took Juno to a girls sleepover he was all alone, for the first time since he was a little boy after his Mom died.

The dam burst and he sat on the floor and cried, he cried until his Dads came home and they wrapped him up in a hug and he cried some more. Then they made hot chocolate and sat on the couch in thick chewy blankets. They talked and talked, Hakkoda speaking about loosing the love of his life with two young children, being a dad by himself, Bato spoke about loosing his best friend Kya so unfairly and traumatically. The spoke about the unfairness of life and the peace in death, and how he will never move on but he will move forward, with one hand holding his daughter and the other pointing him forward to his own future.

When Katara came home the next day, Sokka was already awake and making blueberry pancakes poorly singing ice ice baby. When he saw his sister holding Juno he scooped her up and gave her a million kisses.

They were going to be okay, because they were loved, because Sokka was smart, because Sokka was going to be driven just like his best friend was, he was going to ask the big questions whenever he could, and love and laugh, so much his home was filled with it.

For Juno and for Yue, and for himself too.

_________________________

So Sokka worked his ass off, he won a full ride scholarship to university for hockey to study bio engineering, he was even able to work on family residence on campus, which took a load off his shoulders of trying to figure out travel to and from school with a baby, now he skates, lives and attends school on campus (which even had a daycare)

During the summer leading up leaving for school Bato revealed that ever since Sokka got into school he has been trying to transfer his job to the same city so they could be closer and he had not only done that but he had gotten a promotion out of it too. So Katara was starting at a new high school for senior year and Bato and Hakkoda were moving to be 20 minutes away from Sokka’s school.

He knew he would have to get used to being more independent, as he knew his dads thought he would be annoyed by them following him, or his sister would be upset about changing schools. But no, katara had high hopes for her new adventure and sokka was just relived to not be alone, and that Juno had more than one badly an adult person in her life.

_________________

Little hands grabbed at Sokka’s hair as he hoisted 9 month old Juno up on his hip. “Well June-Bug this is it our home for the next four or so years”

Juno looked up at her dad with wide hazel eyes and replied in noisy baby babble.

From behind Sokka Bato came up and rested a hand on on his shoulder “Deep breaths kid, you’re going to be great.”

Sokka smiled ruefully at Bato as Katara ran up with a stroller full of baby things and his dad struggled with his hockey bags as he tried to lock the car with one hand.

Sokka looked at Juno again and whispered to her and himself “Deep breaths kid”

Later after they had gotten the crib set up in the attached office to Sokka’s room Bato and Katara took Juno for a walk in her stroller to grab some food. While Sokka and his dad finished unpacking.

“Son are you sure you want to stay on campus, are you sure you want Juno to stay with you? We could take her for the weeks mostly and you could come stay with us at the new place on weekends. I know you expected to do this more by yourself, but Bato would move oceans for you kid and got the new position in town, so we’re here, we can help.”

“Dad… Ya I’m going to need help, so thank you, I will take you up on looking after Juno when I need it, but you and Bato are going to be looking after her as her grandparents and not as her guardians. I promised Yue - Juno and I are family, and I’m not going to pass her off whenever I feel like not being a Dad anymore, she’s my kid and I want to be here for all the stuff, the walking the talking everything, and that’s not going to happen if she’s only my kid on weekends.

“Sokka you’re doing just fine son, more than fine really. Okay okay well when Juno wants to see her Great Papa and GB (Grand Bato) you give us a call, or if you need to pull an all nighter for an assignment you call, anything you call and we can be here. And when you get your game schedule, email us so we can make sure one of us can take her to the games, Bato is very excited about the baby headphones he bought her.”

“Okay Dad Okay, Now get out of here ya old man, and Dad Thanks for being here.”

“Of course Sokka”

________________________

Sokka was pretty pleased with his new place, sure it was small, but it was clean and had more room than he expected to get so he was grateful. The suite was in the family/accessible living accommodations which was a small building with elevators to every floor. This suite had two rooms on opposite sides of the small common area which had a worn in couch and a coffee table. There was also a small kitchen and an even smaller dinner table. Sokka’s room had a small attached office space that he turned into Juno’s room, even though she still co-slept with him most nights, it was good to have a crib for naps and a place to put her never ending supply of diapers, blankets and clothes.

Sokka's roommate was a paraplegic kid named Teo who happened to have basically the same schedule as Sokka so they quickly bonded over advancements in the medical and mechanical fields. Teo also seemed pretty chill and took a liking to Juno right away. Which made Sokka endlessly happy because, well they were now living together and babies cry and poop so he was worried about tiptoeing around his new home.

Day care still didn’t open for the next two weeks while sokka would be attending training camp so his Dad would be taking most of the days with Juno, but it happened to shake out where the first day of meet and greet and skate Hakkoda was attending a support group meeting for retired field medics in a new city and Sokka didn’t want his Dad to miss it, plus it gave Sokka an opportunity to introduce everyone to his best girl.

Katara came to hold Juno while he was on the ice excited to get a sneak peek at university life before her high school year started.

“Da da da” Juno babbled as she mushed her fist into Sokka’s mouth, sokka smiled and pretended to gobble up her hand, the baby shrieked and laughed and Sokka adjusted her baby sweater around her neck.

“Sokka she’s fine, I have diapers, formula, and the big blanket you packet in the stroller, if she gets fussy I can take her for a walk to see the birds, and she won’t get cold because you packed a million layers and she will be held by every limbo there so again, she will be fine.”

Sokka checked the stroller again nodding to what his sister was saying. She was right, he was prepared, he had already emailed with the coaches so they knew what was up and he had coffee with the captain yesterday, who looked like a giant holding his baby, but overall seemed like a good guy. Eric “Wooly Mammoth/ Wooly” Woolner seemed like a solid guy, like physically solid and also like the type of guy Sokka could lean on as a leader while figuring out classes, fatherhood and being on a university level hockey team.

Everyone met in a blank sort of room with lots of chairs facing a projector, Sokka thought it was probably to review game footage and make new plays. He settled in with Juno on his lap as the other guys in the room took notice that there was a baby in their midst.

“Sokka you brilliant man!” Shouted a familiar face from across the room as he stood up and ran over.

Haru was taller and broader than Sokka, much bigger at least than when they last saw each other when they played on the same club team when they were 15.

“Haru, dude! You’re here! Awesome!”

Haru took a look at Juno and sized her up, then he stuck out his tongue and did a silly dance, Juno hid her face in Sokka’s shoulder and Haru ran around so she could see him and did it again. This time he managed to get a small smile before she hid her face again, grabbing Sokka’s collar with her hands.

“She’s cute Socks, she yours?”

“Yep, this is Juno.”

“Nice, is she gonna be at the games and shit?”

“Easy up on the potty mouth there dude, and ya I hope so, my dads moved into town so they hope to be there and bring her to them and stuff.”

“Wicked, is the uh - mom in the picture?”

“Nah, she passed when Juno was born so it’s just us.”

“Sorry bro”

“Thanks, anyways we should totally catch up properly later. Let’s introduce the team to our new good luck charm shall we?”

Katara was right, Juno has passed from bro to dude to himbo, once she realized that everyone one here was as big and cuddly as her dad she seemed to warm up and enjoy the attention. Then it was time for everyone to get on the ice to pass around the puck and do some laps getting a feel for the other players on the ice.

Juno sat with Katara smearing her messy hands all over the glass looking at the people on the rink until she fell asleep in her stroller tucked under a whole blanket.

Sokka enjoyed the team, Haru was a great comfort of home, Wooly was a level headed captain that set a tone for the rest of the guys, then there was Lucas “Longshot” Cho, Dennis “The Duke” Cunningham, Sam “Rooke” Chesterfield, Finn “Pipsqueak” Biggs, and the team manager Suki and the assistant captain Zuko.

All of the guys were loud and boisterous, including Suki, but Zuko seemed reserved and maybe a little prickly.

Then there were coaches Piandao and Bumi. Piandao seemed more serious, the man with a plan. He had coached a lot of different teams and was sought after for his reputation of the coach who turns coal into diamonds, Bumi on the other hand had coached here forever it seemed. He gave Sokka Manic genius vibes that had him thinking that maybe he should let Piandao hold Juno for the occasional practise instead of the ripped crazy old guy who ran around the ice in uggs.

——————

Later when Sokka was packing up and talking to the coaches about potentially bringing Juno with him in case he couldn’t find a sitter last minute working out how that would work, Katara pulled up with a fussy Juno in her stroller.

“Sorry Sokka I have to run, Dad is outside waiting for me and I have to finish unpacking my room tonight”

“All good Kat, thanks again for coming tonight!”

Katara leaned down and kissed her fingers and pressed them to Juno’s head “Love you little bug”

The coaches bid their farewells shortly after and Sokka packed his stuff into the stroller before taking Juno out to settle her and give her a bottle.

Just as he tucked her into his arms and pulled the bottle from the bag someone walked briskly into the locker room where he was sitting.

Zuko and Assistant Captain huffed in and sat down hanging up his phone and tossing it on the bench.

“Uh hi?”

Zuko whirled around looking ready for a fight before spotting Sokka and said baby sucking on a bottle. “Hi Baby.” Zuko said shyly.

Sokka laughed “ Take me on a date before you call me that.” And winked at Zuko.

Zuko looked like a startled deer so Sokka took pity on him.

“Just kidding dude, I mean sort of I am Bi - what a discovery that was and anyways - sorry I wasn’t coming on to you - I don’t know you - I just thought I should make it clear that I COULD come on to you because I like guys, and girls…. Whelp I would start running away in shame now for oversharing but I’m currently a food spruce for this nugget sooo, yep just going to sit here and wish I could time travel to punch myself in the face.”

Throughout the vomit of words coming out of sokka’s mouth Zuko seemed to relax and then smirk at the other man.

“You do know I was talking to your kid right?”

“Yep, yes I did”

“Well see you around Sokka.”

And Zuko grabbed his bag and left the locker room. First impressions for today might be bit all over the place Sokka thought to himself.

____________________________________

Sokka talked to Juno all of the time. What can he say, he is a guy with a lot of words and they can’t all stay in his head.

So Juno has an interesting and advanced vocal for a 9 month old baby.

Of course she can address the people in her life, Dada, Kat, Great Papa, and GB (Great Bato)

She can also ask for milk, to go up, and uh oh.

She loves to say no but can infect say yes (sokka swears he’s heard that one)

But it also means she tries to say things that Sokka often says to varying degrees of baby success

“Stupid gravity!”

"Monkey balls”

“Shoot”

“I love you to the moon and back”

“hockey time.

And her favourite word of all time

Puck

It stopped making Sokka freeze after the first 2o times he thought he heard his baby say fuck. Now its just a cute funny thing his kid has figured out, Dada has to find the puck, and it is her job to hide them.

She hides pucks everywhere, he swears sometimes she is multiplying them on her own because he always finds at least two in the diaper bag and one hidden in her crib.

So very quickly into the season the team dubs the hockey baby with her very own nickname

“Little puck”

Sokka quietly thinks that Yue would have liked that one because her favourite Shakespeare play was midsummer night's dream.

________________________

The team gets Juno and Sokka a fancy running stroller for her birthday/christmas

It was Zuko’s idea

Zuko sometimes comes by to offer to take her for a run when Sokka has exams.

_______________________

Zuko seemed to always be the last to leave the locker rooms, Sokka would usually rush out to pick up Juno from whoever had her unless she had stayed with Couch Dao during practise which she had today.

On days like today Sokka takes his time, cleans and folds his gear, re-tapes his stick for next practise and actually has a real shower. So today he was tucking Juno back in her stroller after changing her as Zuko put the tape away. They were casually talking about the hilarious origins of Pipsqueaks nickname when sokka realized Zuko had a funny look on his face.

“What? Do I have poop on me or something?”

Now Zuko looked even more confused as Sokka looked at his shirt, twisting around to make sure he was free of baby droppings.

“No, you just never look at it, is all. I was trying to figure out what was so -weird about you other than being a crazy goalie, and you don’t look at it.”

“I don’t look at what?”

Zuko gestures to the scared half of his face glumly. “You don’t look at it, you look me in the eyes, always have. It’s weird I guess. You pretending it’s not there.”

“Oh”

“Forget it, sorry.”

“No! It’s just of course I know it’s ther, I’m not pretending its not there, it just seems like whatever happen was probably truamitic, ya know? And - well - okay so tragic backstory time. My Mom was killed in a targeted home invasion by some racists, super fucked up... “

“Holy shit.”

“Yep, anyways everyone knew about it, in the town we lived in, in the next town we lived in, So it was like everyone could see my big truma all the time, it wasn’t up to me to trust people enough to share something that was hard for me and that hurt. It was out of my hands and everyone knew including people I didn’t feel safe with or I didn’t know at all. So I get it, in a way. I see your scar I do, but I get that it maybe comes with a pretty sucky story that’s not mine to make assumptions and judgments on. If I’m worthy of knowing then I will, but I will always look you in the eyes, I’m not going to look at your trauma first because you’re Zuko first.”

Zuko stared at Sokka with his mouth open. Sokka looked away and finished strapping Juno into her stoller before looking back up at the other player. When he did Zuko was looking at the wall, his shoulders turned away from the young father.

“Thank you, and I’m sorry about your Mom… I promise I won’t tell anyone, that scar can stay between us for however long you need.”

And before Sokka could stay anything Zuko turned on his heel and walked quickly from the room.

________________________-

Sokka wasn’t sure what was up with this Zuko guy, everyone else on the team except Haru and Sokka had played with Zuko last year, so they all seemed to have an unspoken understanding of the reserve alt captain. But Sokka couldn’t even get him to smile. Sokka knew he was funny, he was full of 100% organic grass fed dad jokes for goodness sakes! But no, Zuko would not smile, he would not laugh, actually most of the time he seemed to be trying to not talk to Sokka in general. Which was hard considering Zuko was one of the defensemen and it was his job to protect Sokka, you’d think there would be an effort to become friends.

“Maybe he’s uncomfortable with the whole baby thing?” Suggested Teo from the table where he was copying data to a new chart.

“Nahh, I don’t think so, he even said hi to Juno at the first prac - ohhhhhhh” Sokka fell to the floor from where he was sitting with Juno, she took the opportunity of her opponent on the ground and began to climb on her dad.

“What ohhhhhh?”

“I totally flirted with him after that and told him I was queer and he like panic walked out of the locker room.”

“Ugh so do you think he’s homophobic or something?”

“Maybe or something? I don’t get bully vibes from him more like “I act scary so people won’t pretend to like me and then stab me in the back” vibes from this guy. So maybe it’s just a little internalized stuff and he’s not going to beat me up just might not want to talk about it.”

“Well it sucks either way!”

Juno continued to climb around her Dad trying to stuff toys down his shirt and then take them out again. Sokka kept a hand two inches from her back whenever she got close to standing just incase she decided that gravity no longer applied to her and she tumbled over.

“Hey Sokka, do you think he told anyone? Would your spot be in danger if you were outed?”

A cold feeling settled in his stomach “oh shit, I uh, I didn’t think about that… I don’t think I would be kicked off the team. There are policies like that for the school, but I don’t know about how safe I would be from the boys.”

“Oh,” Teo finally looked up from his laptop and set down his highlighter. “You know if you need someone to back you up, I know I can’t take them in a fight but I am friends with some freelance hackers and I could make their lives living hell.”

“Teo, you my man are one scary dude, and the wheels only add intimidation with that tricked out chair. You’re also a really great friend.”

Teo blushed and shrugged “Eh it’s whatever, us queers in engineering trying to change the way people use bionic tech gotta stick together right?”

“Totally, isn’t Uncle Teo awesome June-Bug?” Sokka picked up his daughter and flew her over his head as she wiggled her legs.

“Too too!”

“Uncle Teo?” teo said quietly from the table.

“Oh, well ya, if you want? Juno needs a village right? And one day you and I are going to start a bionics company together, so ya you’re going to be around for a while right?”

“Right.” Teo smiled.

“Toto!” Juno screamed again.

Both of the boys laughed and the night went on.

_______________________________________

Juno was still asleep and Teo was in the house studying so Sokka took the opportunity to go for a run around his building with the baby monitor clipped on his waist band.

It was rare nowadays that Sokka could get a good run in outside, his feet pounding the pavement, a chance to clear his mind.

He was surprised to see that Zuko apparently had the same idea because soon they were matching each other stride for stride around the complex. It was surprising even after weeks of Zuko evading Sokka at any chance they seemed to be in sync.

They were still going strong when Sokka heard Juno fuss from the monitor and slowed to a stop. Zuko halted a few paces ahead and looked confused.

“Are you tired? We can stop-” Zuko started but Sokka quickly waved him off.

“No it’s Juno, I just want to see if she’s going to go back to sleep herself or whether I have to call Teo to pick her up, or if I should go get her. Come on J-Bug settle down,”

Zuko looking curious came to hover over Sokka’s shoulder looking down at the tiny screen which showed Juno in her crib tossing and turning.

“Come on J look your penguin is right there- YES!” Sokka pumped his fist and did a little dance. “My baby went back to sleep, ah I love you!” He continued speaking to the machine and the sky and skipped around before remembering he had an audience.

It looked like Zuko was thinking about smiling and Sokka thought that that might be worth celebrating too.

“Hehe whoops, sorry man. I just haven't been able to run in forever, it's like she knows when I grab my runners and demands to see me.”

“No worries, Sokka.”

So the two hockey players started up a soft pace again around the building. It came to Sokka's mind that he shouldn’t poke the bear but he also had poor impulse control so as he thought it the words came tumbling out of his mouth.

“So have you outed me to all the guys and should I watch my back?”

Now it was Zuko’s turn to stop, he looked like Sokka slapped him.

“What.”

“Ugh! You know, like I can not talk about it and we can just play the game but - should I be making sure that Juno is safe? If she comes to a practise and I’m leaving will I get roughed up by the guys? Because I can take a hit, but my daughter is off limits. Nothing has happened yet so, my guess is you haven't told anyone, but are you going to?”

“No!” Zuko still looked scared “ Never - do I come off as someone who would do that?” He followed up quietly.

“I don’t know what to say dude, you looked scared out of your mind when I flirted with you and practically ran out when I told you I was Bi and ever since you have avoided me, I just assumed you were uncomfortable.”

Zuko looked around as if to check for monsters around them, then he looked at Sokka. “I won’t tell anyone, I haven't, I swear to you that I have your back if you ever want to say anything about it. Juno is safe, I swear it.”

“Whoa that’s a serious tone shift, Um thank you then.”

There was an awkward pause as the two men regarded each other for a moment.

“Just out of curiosity why did you avoid me after? Was it the baby thing?”

“No, it wasn't the baby thing.” zuko mumbled and toed the dirt with his shoe.

“Okay… but were good now right?”

“Ya”

Sokka turned and started to jog again, and soon enough Zuko caught up and they continued for a few more laps. As they were cooling down Zuko still looked amped up, Sokka was surprised, running usually calmed him down but Zuko seemed jumpy.

“Well this was fun! If I can ever join again it would be nice to have company, even company as quiet as you along.”

“Why don’t you bring Juno in her stroller or something?”

Sokka rubbed a hand behind his neck “ Well her stroller is a second hand one we got when she was born, it’s not the kind I can take running without it falling apart or bouncing my babies brains out. And her Mom and I both had much to offer in genetic smarts so I would like my babies brain to be perfect so she can run the world or something.”

“Oh and I guess running strollers are expensive?”

“Ya a bit, and I already spend so much on her clothes, she just won’t stop growing!”

“Too bad, it was also nice running with you.”

“Wow a real Zuko compliment, be still my beating heart!”

Sokka grabbed his chest and fell back and rolled in the grass. Zuko’s lips tilted up just a fraction and butterflies fluttered in sokka’s stomach.

Just then Juno started to cry in earnest and Teo’s voice came over the monitor. “Uh Sokka is her bottle the one in the door of the fridge or do I make a new one?”

Sokka sighed a little then pressed the intercom button on the monitor “Don’t worry about it Teo I will be up in two. Just start telling her the periodic table or something.”

“See you later Zuko”

“Bye Sokka.”

_____________

Sokka’s head was pounding and his vision was blurry, as he stumbled in the dark to the toilet and heaved.

“Fuck.”

At some piont after the sweating and throwing up he dragged himself back to his room to fetch his phone. Juno was fast asleep in her crib because he had a headache last night and homework took forever, so he had put her down early.

Back in the bathroom he rested his head on the cool tile and dialed up his dad with shaky fingers.

After three rings Hakkoda picked up in a panic “Sokka, are you okay? Is Juno okay? Where are you?”

Sokka squinted his eyes at the loud voice of his Dad ringing around his skull. “Dad? I think I have the flu.”

“Oh bud, okay. What’s going on, how can I help?”

“I had a headache last night so I put J down for bed early then I woke up with a fever, I keep throwing up, Dad I -” Sokka felt a lump in his throat and tears sting his eyes. “Dad I don’t want to her her, she was just so small, and I don’t want her to get sick. I know I have to do this, but i love her so much and I dont want to fuck up - “

The tears fall down his cheeks to the floor.

“Oh son, okay. One you love that kid more than anything you would die before hurting her this I know. Two people get sick, people also get better with rest and the I think I can help with that.”

“Dad I know I’m grown up ish, but can you tell me what to do?”

Hakkoda chuckled on the other end of the line. “Sokka, Bato and I will come pick up Juno in 30 minutes, we will drop off some crackers and gatorade too.”

“Dad- “

“Nope Sokka, you asked so I am telling you what we are going to do. We will come and get our baby girl and take her for a few days, You will email your profs and get your homework sent to you, you can only go to class when you don’t have a fever and if you do you’re going to wear a mask, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Good you will email your coaches tell them whats what, when you feel better you can go watch practise, the cool might even be good for the fever, but you will not push yourself. This week will not make or break the rest of your life. So you will sleep, rest, do your work form home, and Juno will play at GB and great Papa’s house. And everything will be okay.”

“Okay. Thank you dad”

“We will be there soon buddy”

So Juno went with his Dad’s and he sent his emails and face planted in his bed and passed out for 6 hours.

Later an hour before practise Sokka’s phone pinged, he groaned and grasped around for his phone.

A text from Fire Prince Zuko

Coaches just said you won’t be at practise tonight. Is everything okay? Is Puck good?

Flu bug, don’t want to mess up that pretty ice with my vomit. Juno seems fine she’s at my Dads house until I’m not dying of the plague

A few minutes went by after that and sokka’s eyes started to fall again. “Ping”

I can drop off soup and tea on my way to practise, which suite is yours in family huas?

Dude its fine I can feed myself

Dude. I’m helping at my uncle’s tea shop today. They have soup and tea, it’s no problem. In fact my uncle insists.

14a second floor

And thank you Z

What are Alt Capts for?

Hakkoda was right, everything was indeed okay in the end. Juno had a blast at her grandparents house and sokka managed to get all of his homework done and even managed to watch a few lectures online courtesy of Teo. Zuko was the anomaly he could’t account for but was grateful for none the less. Whenever he could he stopped by with snacks, soup, tea and even weirder sent cute cat and baby videos at random points during the days.

Within 4 days Sokka felt good enough to go to classes and do some dryland training uring practise and after one more day he was back catching pucks on the rink with his daughter sleeping in the bed next to him one hand fisted on his shirt to make sure her dad didn’t leave.

After that week sometimes Zuko would still stop by with a tea, which Sokka had begun to like even when he wasn’t dying. Except now he would occasionally stay and drink his own tea while they watched juno play on the floor.

Sokka was starting to think he might have a new friend after all…

_____________________

#zukka modern au #fanfiction prompt #sokka #zuko #team avatar #modern au

16 notes · View notes

pokeasleepingsmaug · 4 years

Note

Welcome to the new season of Wessex's Most Eligible Bachelorette!!! You, lucky young lady, are sure to find love among these six suitors! The contestants are: Osferth, Sihtric, Finan, Leofric, Uhtred, and Steapa. Tell us who you eliminate each week, and why. Did they screw up a challenge? Read you all wrong? Cause drama in the house and piss you off?? And of course, who makes it to the end and sweeps you off your feet? Inquiring minds want to know!!

I’ve been thinking about this ask since you sent it haha, it’s so clever and I love the concept. Full disclosure, I’ve never seen the Bachelor or the Bachelorette, so I’m mostly going off of @volvaaslaug‘s amazingly perfect answer for the format.

Week One

Everyone arrives in the house and we all spend some time getting to know one another. The guys all seem to know each other already, judging by the amount of playful name-calling happening, so now it’s time for me to get to know them.

Osferth and I head to the library, which I’m totally cool with. We spend some time browsing the stacks together. He takes me to the history and philosophy sections, and wows me with his extensive knowledge on both. Turns out he’s working on his masters in European history. I’m suitably impressed. We spend a couple hours at a table, each reading our own thing and occasionally sharing interesting bits or beautiful sentences. It’s, quite frankly, a lovely time.

Sihtric takes me to the barn where he boards his horse, and I may or may not love him already because of this. His horse is a beautiful dapple gray gelding, and I spend way too long fussing over him. Once Sihtric finds out I know how to ride, he catches me a little bay mare and we tack up and head out for a trail ride through the woods. He’s quiet, occasionally pointing out birds or little creatures, and it’s amazingly relaxing. When we get back to the barn, I catch him singing quietly to his horse as he gets him ready to go back outside. The boy can’t sing worth a damn, but I’m smiling ear to ear anyway.

Finan takes me to a rock-climbing gym. I’ve never been before and I’m pretty wary of this choice, but he’s a surprisingly good teacher. He explains the basics to me, then hooks me up and tells me to get going. I don't even make it halfway up the wall, and he’s nearly rolling when I fall, but he still manages to catch me. Then it’s his turn, and being humiliated like that is almost worth seeing how he moves; it’s ridiculously hot. I could definitely do without the dick jokes, but overall, it’s a good time.

Leofric teaches me to fence, sort of. He doesn’t teach me so much as he tosses a protective suit and a foil at me and tells me to figure it out. He kicks my ass within seconds every time, and I’m covered in bruises by the time we’re done. He’s gruff and seriously needs to learn some manners and patience. Not my favorite.

Uhtred takes me to his friend Alfred’s and talks war strategies, fate, and Bebbanburg. He’s smart, and pretty, but I never get a word in edgewise. I certainly know him by the end of that time frame, since he never stops talking. I find myself thinking that maybe he should be the philosophy major, and not Osferth, because he seems constantly on the edge of an existential crisis.

Steapa takes me to his favorite pub. He’s quiet, the pub is loud, it’s a little awkward, but overall it’s nice. After Uhtred, he’s a breath of fresh air. I don’t know much about him by the end of the night, but he has a nice smile and his hand is warm when it brushes against mine when we say goodbye.

Leofric doesn’t get a rose.

Week Two

I get to pick the activity this time, and it probably would have been horseback riding, had Sihtric not stolen my idea. As it is, I’m teaching these boys to knit.

Osferth picks it up pretty easily. He has really deft hands, and watching him knit is really nice. He listens carefully and follows the instructions exactly, and picks everything up pretty much on the first try. When we’re finished hanging out, he asks if he can take his project with him. By the end of the week, he presents me with a simple scarf. Every single stitch is perfect.

Sihtric knows how to crochet, sort of, so he has an advantage going in. He reveals his mother taught him to crochet when he was a kid, but he hasn’t done it since he was little. We have a heart to heart about his mother and his family, and we’re so busy talking, we don’t actually get any knitting done. It’s the most I’ve seen him talk the whole time we’ve been in the house.

Finan, as it turns out, is both determined and competitive. He asks how Osferth and Sihtric did, and tells me he’ll do better than both of them combined. He struggles and struggles and struggles, but refuses to give up. He hunches over his needles, muttering and cursing to himself, running his fingers through his hair until it stands on edge. At the end of three hours, he proudly presents me with a mass of tangled yarn, with no visible knit stitch in sight. I try very hard not to laugh, and almost succeed. He does not appreciate it.

Uhtred has zero interest in learning how to knit, which is a real shame. He could probably use a productive outlet for all that pent-up frustration. He’s a pretty decent sport about it, rolling his eyes a minimal amount of times. He’s terrible at following instructions, though, so we mostly just bullshit while he forgets to pretend to care about knitting.

Steapa is a good listener, but his hands are huge, and the yarn seems to just slip through his fingers. He gets frustrated by it, but I assure him it’s no big deal and that he’s doing better than Finan (this gets a laugh out of him), and we have a good time full of shy smiles, quick glances, and the occasional attempt at knitting.

Uhtred does not get a rose.

Week Three

Competition week. I issue the challenges and crown the winner, and it’s not nearly as chaotic as you would expect. Finan, way overly competitive as usual, wins, but not by much. Sihtric is in second, followed by Steapa, and Osferth in last.

The date with Finan is okay, until he gets a little too drunk and starts hitting on the waitress and making dick jokes.

Finan does not get a rose.

Week Four

I’m left with the three quietest guys, and honestly, it’s nice. This week we’re doing something we’ve both never done before, so this should be fun.

Osferth takes me to a pottery class at a local art studio. We both laugh a lot when his clay flies off the wheel and all over his shirt, and in the end, we come away with two small cups that were supposed to be matching, but they’re both lopsided in different ways. We stop at a nearby bar and take a shot out of them before heading home, because obviously we need to christen them properly.

Sihtric takes me to a partner yoga class, and it’s honestly amazing. He’s the perfect combination of encouraging and competitive, and the touching is really nice, too. His hands are big and warm and callused and his body is lean and strong, and yeah, I’m definitely flushed from more than just the yoga. If yoga is supposed to be relaxing, this definitely is not, but I am NOT complaining.

Steapa takes me to a ballet studio. It’s hilarious and terrible for both of us, but at least we’re laughing together. In the end, he picks me up like it’s nothing at all and we do our own definitely-not-ballet that we call ballet, anyway. The teacher isn’t amused, but we are.

This has been the hardest decision so far, but Osferth doesn’t get a rose. I cry and hug him goodbye.

Final Week

They each plan a final date, and then I decide.

Sihtric and I return to the stable (FINALLY). We have a long trail ride to a little meadow full of wildflowers, where we stop and have a picnic, complete with a nice bottle of red wine. The sun is almost down by the time we get back to the barn. We get the horses settled for the night, then Sihtric takes my hand and leads me to the hill behind the barn, where we stargaze and he tells me the stories behind the constellations until I fall asleep with my head on his chest.

Steapa takes me to see my favorite Shakespeare play, A Midsummer Night’s Dream. The performance is wonderful, and I’m thrilled even if we don’t get to talk much. He does the cheesy yawn and throw his arm over my shoulder move, and I roll my eyes, but let him get away with it.

Steapa does not get a rose.

Sihtric and I begin dating once we leave, but I’m missing Osferth. Sihtric picks up that something is wrong and asks me about it, and I tell him the truth. Turns out, they had a casual thing a couple years back. We call Osferth, and the three of us have a long heart-to-heart, and spend the rest of our days in a happy poly relationship, so really, I’m the winner here.

#the last kingdom #the last kingdom fic #sort of?#either way I enjoyed this immensely #the last kingdom fandom #let's be danes ⚔️

22 notes · View notes

tempesrature · 4 years

Text

Of The Standard Of Taste: Logan and Memes

Pairing: Ride or Die | Ellie x Logan Summary: Logan has a terrible taste in memes and Ellie wants to help him. (A very loose continuation of Communication Degree. But if you don’t want to read that, all you need to know is Ellie and Logan live together and Ellie has a Professor that she hates.) Word Count: 1,924 Warnings: None. Just the buffoonery that I come up with. This is terrible and self-indulgent because I just want some stupid domestic fluff for my two idiots. A/N: I feel like Logan’s relevant character flaw has to be that he’s probably not too knowledgeable with pop culture and memes (on the run most of his life, has no real need for it, etc) so...here you go. I also reread Hume’s “Of The Standard of Taste” just in case I get into a tussle with Philosophy nerds over my usage of the title (you can fight me but I’ll lose, I didn’t understand much). Also, please forgive me for my poor editing, I may be a millennial but I run on boomer batteries. Happy RoDAW everyone! @rodappreciationweek @troublemakerinspace ~*~

In the silent space of the Langston library, Ellie’s phone pings on her desk and her eyes flit to the device. The name on her screen immediately pulls a wide smile on her lips as she picks up the phone and checks to see what he has sent her. Once she sees the picture, her face falls and she immediately groans before she puts the phone back on her desk.

“Woah, bad news?”

Ellie turns to look at Brooke, her friend and partner for the paper they’re currently working on, before Ellie shakes her head with a small sigh.

“It’s Logan.”

Brooke furrows her eyebrows, squinting lightly at Ellie. “And that’s bad because…?”

Ellie sighs before she picks up her phone and hands it to Brooke. Brooke raises a curious eyebrow before she takes the phone and looks at the screen. Her face morphs into a string of emotions—shock, laughter, cringe—before it settles into pity. “The boy’s taste in memes are terrible.”

“It’s not his fault,” Ellie quickly defends, taking the phone back and staring at the picture that Logan sent her.

“It’s his first Pictagram account and he’s still figuring things out,” Ellie explains as she gives his picture a heart. “You know, developing his standard of taste.”

“From what? The 2010’s?” Brooke cackles as she takes Ellie’s phone, scrolling up their conversation before she bursts into muffled chuckles. “Look at your replies! ‘That’s great baby, it’s really funny’, you sound like his mom!”

Ellie scowls and snatches back her phone, putting it face down on the desk. “He’s trying okay? I think it’s sweet that he sends me memes he finds funny.”

“Uh huh, keep telling yourself that,” Brooke snickers before she rolls her eyes at the annoyed look on Ellie’s face. “El, just like…send him better memes. It’s not that hard.”

“I tried!” Ellie groans again, pushing her fingers to her temple as she stares at the wooden surface of the desk in dismay. “But memes nowadays need so much context! How will he understand when he’s still catching up on so much of pop culture—” Ellie pauses, an idea swirling in her mind. “Unless…”

“Unless what?” Brooke frowns, furrowing her eyebrows. She is scarily aware of Ellie’s face when she starts to plot. “Unless what El?”

“I have an idea,” Ellie declares, quickly gathering her things and dumping them into her backpack as she grabs her phone off of the table. “I’ll send you my part tonight, bye!”

Ellie quickly throws a wave goodbye at the confused looking Brooke as she heads back to the apartment before Logan arrives. Her mind already turning and plotting on how she’ll efficiently enact her plan.

~*~

Logan carefully balances the bag of groceries in one arm as he walks up the stairs, his eyes glued to his phone. He knows he should be more careful, Ellie has already chastised him about using his phone while walking up the stairs to their apartment, but he finds it difficult to pull his eyes away from the endless scroll of memes on his Pictagram feed. Many of which he’s already saved because he plans to send them to Ellie sometime tomorrow during his break.

Logan gives one last double tap of his phone screen to a particularly funny meme when he reaches the door of their apartment before he places his phone in his back pocket. He moves the grocery bag to his other arm before fishing out his keys and inserting it into the doorknob. He hasn’t even fully opened the door when he hears Ellie calling out his name from the living room. A smile pulls at his lips at the sound. Even if it’s been months, he still can’t shake the feeling of utter content at the reality of her waiting for him in their apartment. A scenario he’s only ever imagined in his most indulgent dreams.

“Just a sec trouble. I’m taking off my shoes,” He calls out toeing his sneakers off and kicking it to the side before he walks to the living room with a wide grin. Ellie excitedly greets him with a hug and he easily returns it with a one arm hug.

“Welcome back,” She greets, leaning up to kiss his cheek before she takes the grocery bag in his arm and whisks it away to the small kitchenette in their apartment.

Logan follows behind her, the wide grin still present on his face, as he leans on the refrigerator. He silently watches her place the bag on the counter, start to pull out the groceries and flit by cabinets and shelves to put away the cans and bottles. His heart feels full and sated, the picture of her seeming to bring about emotions that’s both strange and welcomed. Strange in a way that he never thought that this could be his life and welcomed in way that he’s grateful that this is his life.

Ellie pulls out the carton of milk and turns to him, grinning in amusement at the soft and warm look so prominent on his face. An expression she’s seen on him a multitude of times in the time they’ve started living together. She quickly shoos him away from the refrigerator door and Logan merely chuckles as he moves away, placing a passing kiss to her temple before he makes his way to the living room.

His eyes immediately latch on to the papers and books scattered on the coffee table (not an unusual sight) as her laptop lay on the center of the couch. He gently pushes the laptop to the side, careful not to accidentally move anything from its original place as he drops down on the couch and pulls out his phone.

“Are you making another report for Professor Hardass, El?” Logan calls out, absentmindedly scrolling through his Pictagram feed.

“Huh? Oh…no. Actually,” Ellie answers back before she walks back into the living room. She grabs her laptop, balancing it on one hand, as she scrolls up and starts the presentation. “It’s for you.”

Logan pauses before he looks up at her in confusion, his eyebrows furrowed.

“Me?”

“Yes,” Ellie plops down next to him and sets her laptop on his lap, angling the screen to him as the title ‘Important Points in the History of Pop Culture and its Relevance on Memes’ flashes in big black text and stares back at him.

Logan blinks once, twice. His brain frying as he tries to decipher what she just presented him. “I don’t understand Ellie.”

Ellie nods, expecting this reaction before she clears her throat. Her voice takes on the tone she always uses when she presents her reports as she starts the plan that she has been preparing for since she arrived in the apartment three hours ago.

“You see Logan, I love you and I care about you a lot—”

“—this sounds like a break up speech.”

“And,” Ellie emphasizes with a grin, lightly hitting his arm as he looks back at her with a teasing smile. “And I want you to get a better sense of what memes are popular and funny right now.”

Logan opens his mouth, closes it and frowns. Finally picking up what she’s hinting on. “The memes I send you aren’t funny?”

“Oh baby they are,” She leans forward, placing gentle hand on his arm as she tries to keep her voice loving and sympathetic when she delivers the devastating truth. “But like…funny if its ten years ago.”

Logan blinks, pausing for a moment, before a burst of laughter escapes him. Ellie frowns at his reaction and he shakes his head, turning away from her as he muffles his laughter behind his hand. He really didn’t mean to laugh. But the image of his girlfriend, the love of his life, hunkering down and taking a considerable amount of her time and day just to create a presentation to teach him about memes of all things creates a feeling inside him that he’s never felt before.

In his most vulnerable and loneliest nights, he went through a list of the most domestic and romantic what-ifs with her—already resigned that they would never be his reality—that ranged from the simple to the ridiculous but sitting down on the couch of their apartment learning about memes through a PowerPoint presentation from her was something that never crossed his mind.

But somehow, this is the one that hits him the hardest. This is the one that makes him imagine a life beyond their tiny apartment. A house, a dog, kids’ maybe…all of it. If it’s with Ellie Wheeler, he’s ready to want it all.

“Okay troublemaker,” He finally says, turning back to her with a wide grin. “Or should I call you professor now?”

“Behave,” She admonishes playfully before she scoots closer to him and lays her head on his shoulder. He easily wraps one arm around her waist, his hand settling on her hips as he leans his head on top of hers and waits patiently for her presentation.

Ellie immediately launches into her first slide and Logan listens intently, his thumb absentmindedly rubbing nonsense circles on her skin over her pajamas.

As the minutes pass, it leaves him in awe at how much effort and love has gone into this presentation just for him. There are pictures, gifs, and videos all for him and he’s willing to admit that his feed seems to pale in comparison. She goes through the resilience of SpongeBob memes and the “rickroll”, the diversity of Kermit the frog memes, and the brief and fleeting existence of Vine memes. And she laughs and cringes at the particularly older ones and he laughs and takes note at the particularly funny ones as the late afternoon slowly stretches into evening.

By the end of it, she’s cuddled up next to him, her laptop laying open on top of her books on the coffee table, as they both scroll through a better array of pages for him to follow on Pictagram to broaden and expand his taste of memes. They laugh, talk, and tease each other under the dim lights of their tiny apartment and Logan can’t help but feel the kind of warmth and happiness that settle and seep right down to his bones.

~*~

Brooke bursts out in laughter but quickly clamps her mouth shut to avoid disturbing the other students in the library. “I can’t believe you did that! You gotta give me the file!”

Ellie smiles in triumph, crossing her arms in front of her as she leans back on her chair. “Laugh all you want. If it worked then I’m the real winner here.”

Brooke shakes her head in amusement, looking at Ellie with a teasing look. “If? So you haven’t seen the results yet?”

Ellie opens her mouth, ready to reply, when right on cue her phone pings on the desk next to her books. She picks it up when she sees the flash of his name on the screen and she smiles. Her eyes land on the latest picture he’s sent her, her heart squeezing in an ache so powerful she clutches the phone to her chest as she falls forward on the desk with a helpless groan and a silly smile. Brooke sees her reaction and chuckles before she reaches out her hand.

“Give me, I wanna see too.”

Ellie hands the phone to her and Brooke’s eyes land on the picture and she grimaces.

“Now he’s just being cheesy,” Brooke comments dryly.

“He’s too good,” Ellie laments helplessly, lifting her head off of the table with a huge grin. “I made him too powerful.”

Brooke rolls her eyes as she hands Ellie her phone back. “Can we please just finish this paper today?”

“Fine, fine,” Ellie takes her phone back and quickly types out a message and finds a photo before she hits send. She places the phone back on the desk and goes back to working on her part of the paper with a smile she can’t seem to wipe away even if she tried.

#rodaw #rod #logan x mc #logan x ellie #i wont sit on my high horse and mock logan #because i too unironically loved these memes in the past #choices rod #my writing

42 notes · View notes

hs-devote · 4 years

Text

15. L O V E I S I N T H E A I R

Moodboard // Content // Masterlist

Disclaimer:

All characters and situation in this story are fictitious. Resemblance to any person living or dead is only God knows.

Previous chapter;

The tape was five minutes long and it was intense. Harry didn’t show his genital but the woman's bare chest was everywhere. Yes, their entire body wasn’t exposed but it still made her uncomfortable. They seemed to enjoy it very much and no doubt or worry was shown when the recording was made. She could clearly identify Harry right away and the lady was pretty. Y/N felt she had seen the woman somewhere but she couldn't put a finger on it. He was rocking the woman so hard made the headboard banging loudly against the wall. Their naked top was on display but the duvet covered them from his waist until down. They were so loud made she could feel their intensity.

15. LOVE IS IN THE AIR

It was 9 p.m when they had just left the office. The meeting was long and tiring since they had to devise some plans to anticipate the impending impact on Erskine. Harry and Y/N weren’t surprised when the faces of the directors were slightly different while looking at him. The couple assumed that they already knew the gossip. And of course, Harry had to clarify without justifying it.

The street that night was still crowded and a bit jammed made Harry's fatigue increase. He was tired of work and wanted to get Y/N's house quickly and then he would get home immediately. He grunted when the car could only move forward a little. Being stuck in traffic made him spacing out about what had happened to him in the past few weeks or months. This was one of the hardest things he faced while being in the work-life. Not only his work, but also his personal life.

While Harry was busy behind the steering wheel, Y/N who was sitting beside him suddenly remembered what Victoria had said that time. She thought back her words about Harry forced his girlfriend for a sex-tape at that time. As this case arose, her curiosity increased.

She was a bit hesitant to say it but she had to try, or her curiosity would haunt her. "Harry, I just remembered what Victoria Selley said when she came to the office. I forgot to tell you because our conversation at that time wasn't important."

“You met her? I don’t remember her going to Erskine after her first visit?” he asked, glancing at her every so often while turning the wheel. He sighed in relief when the road was less packed.

“She came when you were taken away by the police, not long after that if I’m not mistaken.” She shrugged, “We didn’t really talk about the work or anything related. She refused to talk to me and asked for you. Of course, I didn’t tell her where you gone. I convinced her but she still refused and even accused me of sleeping with you because I was so defensive about your whereabout. She thought I hid you from her.”

“She’s not wrong though. You were fucking me." He joked, "Well, she was a possessive and jealous person so it's not strange if she was like that."

"She's obsessed with you, H. I could feel it." She rolled her eyes, "But, did you know what she did? She was accusing you of being an abusive man and you had a habit of making a sex tape with your girlfriends! And she said you weren't hesitant to hit them if they didn't obey you."

He frowned, eyes squinting while biting his lips. He said nothing as his hand straighten the wheel when the car entered her apartment complex. “I didn’t make that with her if you want to know.”

“I know, H. She also told me that.”

The car stopped when he parked next to a silver sedan. He unbuckled his safety belt but the soft roar of his McLaren engine was still heard. His fingers were tapping to the wheel, "What kind of conversation did you have with her? Why does she sound like she was spitting out unimportant things?"

Y/N stared at him who also looked at her, "I just said to her that you were out of the office and I didn't know when you would come back. She started to act like I was hiding you and protecting you from her. She said we have affair and you're not as kind as I thought. She began to ramble about your bad past including your hobby of making sex tape even you had to force those women.”

"Well, about the sex tape. I would admit that. Yes, I made a sex tape with my girlfriend at that time but it was pure for a personal documentary. Nothing more. I did that when I was in my bachelor study and I did that no more than four times, I swear. I don't even have the tape anymore. I immediately deleted it when I was about to graduate." He clarified, "But I never laid my hands on them for the tape, never."

“You had other three sex tape?” she gawked at him, “And all happened when you were in university?”

Harry saw the look of disbelief from her eyes, and that made him quite insecure. He never thought this would drag him closer to his past that himself was disgusted with. His head felt throbbing like someone had punched him with a hammer.

"I did four. Yes, when I was in my first and second year. I had deleted the three since I was the one who kept but the other one wasn't in me." He shook his head, "But, how come she knows all that? I never told her anything about that."

He began to get suspicious about what Victoria was talking to his girlfriend. When he was in a relationship with Victoria, he never brought it up. And impossible for him to talk about the disgrace of his own past.

“She said that one of your ex-girlfriends is her best friend. And she was being told that you’d love to record that thing when you had sex.” She shuddered, “Which I don’t believe, at the first.”

“Absolutely bullshit. I never once force them. I admitted about the sex tape but I never force or laid my hands on them for the tape.” He scoffed, shaking his head on Victoria’s crap, but he quickly thinking something so fishy for him, “I don’t know I dated her best friend. This is ridiculous.”

Y/N nodded, “So, you were dating your ex-girlfriend’s best friend. The world seems so narrow.”

“Did she know she dated her best friend’s ex-boyfriend though? Don’t you girls like a sister code? Like never date your best friend’s ex or something like that?”

“I think she knew?” she mumbled, “But, that’s none of my business, H. I once asked her why she still dated you when she knew about that, she just said she believed you changed when you were with her. She also clarified that she dumped you because you cheated on her, with having a one night stand.”

"What an utter crap. I dumped her because I didn't like her attitude," he deadpanned, "She was the one who had her hands wandering to another male, not me."

"Okay, I don't want to hear from her again. Any news from Allen about the tape?"

“He’s still looking for the woman in the video. But, he told me that a mysterious man sold the tape to the media who first published the news. I’ll also sue the media who bought it.”

“Is there a possibility that the woman sold the video to him first?”

Harry shrugged, “I don’t know, but we’ll figure it once we found her.”

“Are you not keep in contact with her? I mean, it’ll be easier if you’re the one who approached her.”

“No, I don’t have her contact but I remember her name.”

“And her name is?”

“Elle. Elle Powell.”

Y/N's eyes widened when the name slide out from his mouth. The name was popular. Ridiculously popular. No doubt she had a feeling she knew the woman. Who didn't know Elle Powell? It wasn't surprised if the news became the main headline of several online news. Not because Harry alone was involved in the scandal but there was another name who also highlighted.

“Are you kidding me? Elle Powell? The fucking model?”

Her jaws dropped while Harry stared at her confused, he looked at his girlfriend like she just grew a horn. Elle was one of some women he dated while in university and the woman on the tape. He didn't aware that she became a model and he never wanted to know.

"A model? I don't know she's a model now. All I knew is she studied Philosophy when we were in Cambridge and I heard she moved out of the country in the third year." He frowned, "How's she a model here?"

“You didn't know she's a model? Really? She walks for Burberry and Prada!” she cried out, “She's also besties with the Jenner.”

Elle Powell was a British-Brazilian popular model not only in the U.K, but also in the U.S. She walked a lot for world-famous brand and rumoured to be a Victoria’s Secret angel. She was effingly beautiful, her friend's circle made her even more famous. She was close to the Kardashian-Jenner clan, not to mention a few experienced supermodel.

“I don't even care.” He mumbled, “That might aggravate the situation.”

Y/N shook her head, didn't think this would get any worse. The woman was a popular model and she believed this scandal would be easier to blow off. Her head felt like it would explode when thinking about all these problems. She didn't understand why Harry could be this strong. It all started with Dale filing the violence accusation, then the unknown messages, the falling of Erskine's clients, and now the sex tape. All because of Dale, except...

Hold on.

It was Dale, wasn't it? - her inner goddess gasped

“Harry. Something's fishy here.” She mumbled, “This was the first time Dale filing a case against you, right? I mean, you once punch him the night after gala dinner but he didn't anything. Then, he sued you for hitting him in the night club. Why is he only doing that now? Why he didn't sue you right after the night's gala accident?”

"Because he had CCTV footage from the nightclub while he couldn't ask the footage from the gala, even if there were people there. It couldn't be used as solid evidence." He sighed, "But, yes I agree. Everything is very coincidental and that makes me suspicious."

“What if this is all Dale's doing? What will you do?”

“I just hope he won't go any further if he wants to be safe.” . . . .

Allen had submitted the file regarding blackmail messages and all the evidence that led to Dale. Now, both Harry and Y/N just had to wait while they working on another case. They had been distraught since many companies were backing out because Harry's sex scandal had been up to the public. The Erskine legal team was asked to focus on the company while Allen tried to contact Elle's management.

Elle's management was very cooperative when Allen contacted them. They already knew about the scandal and currently asking for confirmation from the model. Unfortunately, Elle was still out of the reach.

Erskine itself has begun to get worse. Harry could no longer stand to see his employees threw disgusted glare to him although their mouth was shut closed. Who dares to talk about their boss?

The man felt he was going crazy from all these problems and now of the many Erskine's clients, only a few that they could save and it could be count by fingers. This was the lowest point he had ever experienced throughout his career. He was ashamed of his family, with the degrees he received from Cambridge and Stanford. Moreover, he was ashamed of himself. It never occurred to him what was left for him, it was a backfire for himself.

His sleeping schedule was messed up. Really messed up. If everyone worked during the day, he would sleep since he worked up all night. A night for him was daylight, and the daylight for him was the time for he drifted to sleep. It wasn't surprising if he forgot to take his medicine. He might forget when the last time he took it and he should have had new prescription by now. Of course, he kept grumpy and couldn't control his temper, making Marcel happy to switch positions.

That's why now Y/N took her boyfriend for a long walk in St. James', not really only the two of them but she asked Niall to help with Harry's temper. Since Harry became super busy, he had missed his therapy and it worried her a little. She also knew that Marcel would have refused if he was asked to see Niall. So, Y/N thought to bring the Irishman over and do their session like having a normal conversation than a therapy session.

The park that afternoon wasn't so crowded. Harry's mood also looked better so it wasn't Marcel there, she kept praying Marcel wouldn't ruin the day. The woman looked out Harry and Niall talking a few steps in front of her while she didn't want to disturb both of the men. She just watched them from behind while enjoying the fresh air.

Little she did know Marcel didn't like it at all. He just watching from the darkness.

"You don't even take the medicines and didn't come to me. You look skinnier, you know?"

Harry sighed, "I'm sorry for that. I try to balance work and life. I'm exhausted for real since I have to work out a lot of problems now."

"You know you have Y/N now, right? Share your thoughts and I'm sure she won't be mind. She will definitely help you." Niall advised, "She's not only your employee to do the work, H. She's your girlfriend too. Let her in."

That's the problem. Harry never really let her in. He always thinks to himself and that made him anxious; the overthinking that disturb him whenever he was about to fall asleep. He only let Y/N saw the way he exploded his temper, not showing how depressed he was because he didn't want to burden her.

"It's just the two of us now, H. Y/N is far behind. So, tell me everything that bothers you."

Harry tilted his head towards Niall who now looked at him. Niall's blue eyes gave him encouragement and assurance. As always. He sighed before lowered his head, looking at his footsteps. Both his palms in his pockets felt sweaty while he was thinking to spill whatever he thought right now and in past weeks. He lifted his head, jogged his shoulder before looking around. He smiled faintly of how his Y/N chose this place rather than a restaurant or wherever. Nature always had its way to calm the human nerves.

“This gonna be long, I guess.”

“I'm all ears.”

Later that night, Harry was more relaxed. After they got back from the park, Harry fell asleep and woke up at dinner. Y/N temporarily stayed at Harry's penthouse to look after him in case Marcel did something. She was preparing the dinner when Harry watched Netflix on TV, and made sure her boyfriend away from his laptop. Or, he would go back on working something.

When she was about to call him for dinner, Y/N saw Harry on the phone. Her smile got bigger when she realised Anne was the one who called him. She slowly sat next to him, watching him smiled when talking to his mother. This was the first time Harry has smiled since the problems got bigger.

“I'm fine, mum. Really. You don't need to worry. I'm sorry I messed up Igor's legacy but I'm trying to get it back to normal.”

"I don't know. I forgot and now you called me I just remember it's only a week from now. I don't even know if we can do that."

“I know, mum. Maybe I'll think about it and let you know before the deadline?”

“Okay. I love you, mum.”

"Dinner is ready. I made your favourite." Y/N hummed after Harry ended the call.

"Thank you. Anyway, mum sends her hello to you." He spoke, put his phone on the table. His big hand took her small one, led them to the dining room. His eyes closed smelling the aroma of dishes that look delicious.

“Thanks. It feels like ages ago since the last time I saw her.” she nodded while fetching his food. Harry thanked her once he got his full plate.

“H, does Anne know about all.. these problems? I mean, your article is everywhere?”

“That's why she called me earlier. She read all the news but fortunately didn't see the video.” He shrugged, “Which I'm grateful now. She would be more upset if she watched them.”

"And she reminded me of my cousin's wedding next weekend. Since it will be in Mexico, I don't know if I can come." He added, "Mum told me to think about it. She said it can be a short escape for me."

"I think Anne has a point. I mean, Mexico is quite far from the U.K. It's quite good for you travelling afar from here to relax. You don't have any meeting next week. You can take a few days off." she advised, "If you're worried they will talk about you, believe me, it won't happen. They're your family, and it's a wedding!"

Harry said nothing after that, just eating his food while thinking about it. He didn't want her cousin upset if he didn't come to her wedding but it didn't sit well with him if he left his company at a time like this. Well, he had the best employees at their level so why didn't he entrust them for only a few days?

"I'll check the invitation and my schedule. If we have a chance, we'll go there."

Y/N furrowed her eyebrows.

We? What did he mean by us? – her inner goddess widened her eyes

“Of course, I'll go with you, darling. I will have no date if I come alone.” Harry chuckled seeing his girlfriend stared at him bewildered.

"You.. want me to come with you?" she asked in a small voice, couldn't believe what she just heard. She wasn't even sure if she was invited.

"Correct. The invitation is for me and the plus one which is you. It's Lisa's sister who gets married so at least you know each other."

“And bring some bikinis since it will be a beach wedding.” He smirked.

. . . .

Y/N didn't know if this will be a good idea or not. For the past few days, Harry, or Marcel was being awful. She didn't understand why Marcel was more dominant when Harry had already taken his medicine and slowly get his sleeping schedule back at normal. Even herself almost couldn't distinguish between Harry and Marcel because he was very good at manipulating. As in the past three days, Y/N could count how many hours her boyfriend had in his body and that wasn't nice.

Meanwhile, Marcel really enjoyed his time in Harry's position. He was satisfied with yelling to everyone who upset or angered him. It boosted his pride and ego, obviously. He had been there for days and he would play well if he didn't want Harry to take the position yet. He was tired of succumbing to Harry. Because of that, he pretended to be Harry so that everyone would believe him. Even he managed to have his eyes brighter than usual; close to Harry's.

As now, he was in an impromptu meeting with several of his directors. He wanted to curse their stupidity but he couldn't do that or, Y/N would be suspicious. He didn't care if they would judge him as bipolar. A minute he was good, a minute later he would be a bad-tempered man.

"This meeting is dismissed, gentleman. Thank you for your time." Y/N smiled before picking up her iPad.

“They must be tired.” Marcel spoke after everyone left them alone. He was still in his chair, watching the woman in front of him cleaning the table from the papers.

“At least these days they didn't overwork like before.”

"It's because they gave up on the client."

Y/N frowned, Harry never said something demeaning like that. This wasn't the first or second time Harry had to underestimate his employees. This past week, he didn't show any excessive temper, but often scoffed at them like it was normal. Harry almost never did it unless they have to be reprimanded.

“Why did you say that?”

He shrugged, “Because I'm telling the truth. We wouldn't lose more if they wanted to work harder. They should be ashamed of you because you were working late lately and they weren't.”

“We shouldn't talk like that behind them” Y/N shook her head, “I'll go back to my office.”

Marcel exhaled loudly, pinching her bridge nose after Y/N closed the door. It was easy to pretend to be Harry, but not when he had to deal with that woman. She was too smart than he thought. He even didn't sure whether Y/N knew that he wasn't Harry or not. But, from the way she behaved, his guile has been going smoothly.

Then, he remembered how she handled the meeting earlier. She talked more than him who just kept quiet and watched because he wasn't interested. Marcel always underestimated every woman Harry used to be date. But, this time he had to acknowledge her ability.

Marcel didn't realise he was thinking about Y/N until the sun had set and the sky was already dark. He didn't know he was daydreaming about her that long.

When he walked past Y/N's office, he saw her door was open. Without making the slightest sound, he peeked inside and saw that his girlfriend still busy and a little frustrated in front of her screen. Her hair was tied in a high bun with sleeves were rolled up to her elbows, the sound of a song accompanied her in solitude at that time.

Y/N was already very sleepy but her work was almost done just a little more. Keeping in her mind, she could go home on time tomorrow onwards. Her eyes had ached from staring at the screen for too long but she cheered her up and continue her work.

She startled when a cup of coffee placed next to her mobile phone. A sigh of relief came out of her mouth when her eyes recognised the familiar ringed fingers coiled in the cup along with her favourite perfume on him.

“Thank you, H.” Y/N took the hot drink but her eyes were on Harry, slowly pressed her lips to the tip and let the liquid ran down her throat.

“You can finish them tomorrow morning, you know.” Marcel leaned casually in the front seat of her desk. His eyes were still watching the woman enjoying the drink.

Marcel wasn’t lying that the woman in front of him was beautiful and charming. Maybe she wasn’t as pretty as Harry’s previous girlfriend, but she had things that make her different.

“I know. But, I have to get them done so I won’t have any work to pile up for the next few days.” She yawned before rubbing her tired eyes, “Finished soon.”

Shortly after, she sighed happily when the document was done, safe and secure in the folder. She was relieved because no workload for the next few days so she could relax for and no burden when in Mexico later. Little did she knew, Marcel watched her every move.

“I thought you left me alone,” she murmured as she shut down her computer, “you’re not in your office.”

“Why do you think so? I couldn’t leave my girlfriend alone.”

“I tried to calling you but you never picked up.” She shrugged, “I was thinking about using Uber to home.”

“It's a crime if I let you go home this late alone, darling,” he whispers, “C'mon. Let's go home.”

“Let me finish my coffee first.” Y/N winked before sipping the last drop of her coffee. Marcel smiled sweetly and offered his hand to her, only for the woman to take and hold it tight.

The corridor was so quiet and creepy even though the lights hadn’t actually died. This was the umpteenth time she got home late but she still felt afraid when she was alone in the office at night. She whined sometimes why her building was so far from the main area made her still had to pass through many walls and corridors before setting foot in the lobby.

When they reached the main lobby, there was no one in the floor at all even security or the cleaning operator who supposed to be standby was nowhere to be found. The good thing was, they could act like an actual couple without having no care to worry. Marcel had her hand on him, tucking into his pocket. He was used to doing this – this wasn't the first time he had pretended in front of Harry's girlfriend. He even took the advantage to kiss them when Harry was weak. At first, he was uncomfortable but he got used to it.

“Do you want to stop by first for dinner or just want to order?”

“Why don't we just cook?”

He shrugged, “You're tired and cooking will only make you even exhausted.”

“All right then. I think Chinese take away would be fine.”

“But, I think I want my appetizer now.”

“What?”

A second later, Marcel pulled her face closer to him. Licking her soft lips before he pressed his mouth on hers. Y/N amusedly smile as she pulled her hand out of his pocket and grabbed his neck with both hands. Her jaw was held by Marcel when he deepened his kiss. They both softly hummed on each other; the way their lips collided into one was the best feeling aside from the union of their tangled bodies. But, what Y/N didn't know, wasn't Harry who was currently savouring her lips. . . . .

Mexico was beautiful as she imagined before. The warm air of middle May kissed Y/N's cheeks when she just landed at Cancun, her heart was impatient of the fresh sea breeze that she would feel within the next hour. She and Harry were the last guests to arrive in Riviera Maya, the place where Harry's cousin would get married. Other families had arrived first yesterday while they had to finish their work first.

According to her boyfriend, Kelly – his cousin, only invited families and some friends to attend her wedding. So, this would be more intimate since only the closest relatives were present.

Her eyes looking in awe when they arrived at the hotel where they would stay for three nights and also being the wedding venue. Good things they arrived at noon so she could enjoy the view that so spoiled her eyes. The place they would spend at, offered the natural beauty and traditionalism hospitality. It was a beach resort exactly in Mayakoba, the most luxuries one in the area. The eco-resort offered the rich of mother nature but still with five-stars services and facilities.

She never thought she would go along the river with mangrove forests all around while the resort was right by the beach. The soothing sounds of river and birds chirping made the mood and mind became calm. The ideal place for Harry to relax.

“The beach isn’t really accessible by foot. So, we have complimentary bicycles to get around.” Harry mumbled, “They should have been delivered to our villa.”

“I can see that. The river almost surrounding the villa but I can hear the waves from a distance.”

A private villa with its own pool and jacuzzi would be a place they would spend the next few days. Their bedroom and living room separated by a walkway with an outdoor bathtub in front of the small garden. Yet, her favourite thing was their pool overlooked to the mangrove garden and facing their bedroom, with terrace and sundeck on the left of it.

Yes, their Italian villa was exceptional but this one is something else.

“I love this place already,” Y/N sighed as she plopped down to the bed, “I would spend two weeks here if I could.”

“When Lisa told me Kelly was the one who chose this place, I never thought she would choose here. I mean, Kelly loves expensive things and there’s Los Cabos in the top tier.” Harry spoke while putting down their suitcases, “But, I must admit she has taste.”

“Definitely,” she agreed, “Speaking of Lisa. Has she come yet? I can’t wait to see her newborn.”

"We will meet them at dinner tonight. Clementia is here, too. She's staying with mum." He answered as his hand opened the refrigerator beside the bed, and took a coke.

“It’s been so long since the last time I met her.”

Harry nodded, “She can spare her time and come here for a holiday too. It’s nice to meet her again.”

“Are you hungry? We haven’t had lunch yet. I’ll order room service?” he added, looking at his girlfriend who was sitting on a hammock on the terrace.

"Sure!" she yelled in a smile, before averted her gaze to the mangrove garden in front of her.

. . . .

The waves that afternoon rolled to sweep the shore, along with serene orange hue painting the skies so beautifully. Several wooden chairs lined the beach area facing the rustic arch where the bride and groom would vow to each other in front of the priest and witnesses. Everything looked so pure and beautiful with the white decorations. Flowers and dim candlelight lanterns arranged in such a way as to add modest yet romantic ambience. Pictures of the bride and groom hanging on some dried branches stuck in the sand. Everything so flawless yet modest in their own.

Kelly and David, her soon-to-be husband, agreed to have their ceremony before the sunset and immediately have their reception right after. The pair also asked everyone to remain seated when Kelly enters, in honour of David's grandparents who were in a wheelchair.

All the guests were already seated filling the chair. David and the priest were already standing in the front and everyone was waiting for the bride to come. Y/N and Harry sat in the second row, it gave them the advantage to see the couple very clear. Speaking of Harry, the man himself was busy with Lucy who was sitting on his lap. They were both giggling around and engrossed in their own world. Lucy's parents sat right next to him. If Lisa was busy admiring her baby boy in her arms, her husband shook his head to see how attached his daughter is to Harry.

Once in awhile, Y/N glanced at him from the corner of her eyes, praising how handsome her boyfriend is. The businessman was wearing a navy suit with a black shirt underneath the fabric; hanging low to his chest, made his two cross necklaces peeking out among his swallow's tattoos. A pale cream-white boutonniere tucked on his lapel, identical with her corsage in the left wrist.

Y/N herself wore a baby blue lace dress. The dress featured a pussy bow collar and a sheer torso with short sleeves hung until her biceps. The skirt was only reached above her ankles, showing her shiny fancy sandals. She didn't want to slip in the sand if she wore high heels, so she opted casual footwear.

Soft music began to hum along with everyone’s head turned around, looking at the bride in the back ready to enter. Thomas slowly lifted Lucy up so the little girl wouldn’t bother Harry anymore. Unconsciously, Y/N grabbed Harry’s hand just as Kelly slowly walked down the aisle. The bride was so beautiful in her wedding dress, smiling widely to every guest. Her father also looked happy even though Y/N was convinced that the old man surely had a feeling of sadness having to let go of his daughter.

“Kelly’s so beautiful,” she murmured, smiling softly to Harry, “I bet she’s nervous wreck right now.”

“I heard she didn’t sleep all night. But, she looks fresh now.” He said while rubbing her knuckles, “Maybe Lisa forced her to sleep after breakfast.”

“Mhm. She indeed looked like a mess this morning.” She nodded, “But, still looked beautiful.”

During the ceremony, Y/N watched closely without releasing her hand from Harry's grasp. Everything went smooth and solemnly. No wonder many guests shed tears when the bride and groom read their vows, and laughing along when David did something funny. Without her noticing, all the time her eyes looked at the couple with joy, Harry looked at his girlfriend in awe. His eyes didn't focus on the ceremony but the woman beside him.

In his daydream, he saw them in black and white standing on the altar – staring at each other deeply. Ignoring all eyes on them. He saw himself lifting her veil once the priest announced them officially as a married couple, and kissing her so dearly. He saw the night skies were so clear and they were dancing under the starry night, barefoot in the soft sand. The sound of wild waves being their music for dancing all night long until their feet hurt. He saw them being the happiest couple and life happily until eternity.

Was that what he wants?

Does she want that too?

Hell, Harry did not doubt love for her. But, Y/N?

He was madly deeply in love with her yet he was scared to tell her. Is it wrong for him falling in love with her not even a year into their relationship?

Is it a crime if he was dreaming of a marriage with her?

Is it just a wedding fever?

Or, he really does mean it?

In his vision, Harry showed off Y/N proudly as Mrs Styles. The one and only who was captivate his heart, his love, and his world. He saw her always standing next to him in every situation. Even the worst one. He saw the two of them settle down and ageing together.

The roar of applause woke him up from his sweet daydream. He reflexively clapped his hands, and just realised that Kelly and David had legally and officially become a husband and wife. When he averted his gaze to Y/N, he frowned to find his girl shed tears without busy to wipe them. She still looked beautiful despite her red eyes and wet cheeks.

“Why are you crying, baby?” he murmured while his thumb wiped her wet eyes. The girl just shook her head, sniffling softly, “They’re so beautiful together. So happy, so in love. I’m just.. touched.”

Harry laughed softly, “Oh, darling,” bringing her head to lean on his shoulder, “Stop your crying or everyone will assume I hurt you.”

"You have indeed hurt me, H."

“I.. have?” he asked her dumbfounded, blinking a few times – didn’t understand what she meant. Slowly, Y/N brought her lips to his ear. He felt goosebumps around his body when her soft breath blew his earlobe.

“Yes, you were. You had no mercy on me last night until we broke the lamp.”

Oh…

Harry smirked after get what she meant. He arched an eyebrow, looking all smug and cocky, “You weren’t complaining last night. After we broke the hammock, it seemed you didn’t want to stop. We literally marked almost all place.”

“Not with the pool and jacuzzi.”

“Save the best for the last,” he shrugged, “But, the one in the bathtub was so dirty.”

Her cheeks reddened, “That was beautiful because the clear and starry night was being our roof.”

Both of them laughing softly before Y/N covered her mouth. They shouldn't be talking about their topic at someone's wedding. But, they couldn't help how funny yet sexy last night. Yes, that was wild and dirty. The couple couldn't keep their hands to themselves. Both of them were so eager until the hammock and the lamp destroyed. It was like every time they were on holiday, it became their tradition to had sex in almost every corner of the room or villa in this case. It was only the first night, they still had two more nights and who knew where they would do it again.

They didn't realise that only the two of them were left by the beach, everyone had left the place and headed to another site where the reception would be held. The sun has disappeared at the end of the ocean and the orange sky had become darker. Ready for the moon and stars replaced the mighty sun.

The couple walked hand in hand along the shoreline with other hand carrying their footwear. Feeling the cold wind hit their face and warm water kissed their feet. Say they were selfish for being busy with themselves enjoying the beauty of the dusk, while at the far end the reception would start shortly.

“Don’t even start, H. You don’t want your Gucci suit get wet and dirty of water and sand.” Y/N laughed when Harry playfully pushed her to the middle.

“Harry!” she shrieked while lifting her skirt so it wouldn’t get wet, “I really want to play with you but we still have tomorrow.”

“Too late, the tip of my trousers is wet already.”

Rolling her eyes, she pushed Harry away from the water. “We don’t want to late and being a centre of attention because we’re soaking wet, do we?”

Being the cheeky man he was, Harry just grinning before pulled her head to him with one hand. Landing a kiss on his lover's lips while the sky above them was darker than before, the moon shining beautifully yet wasn't compared with the girl in his arms. Their clashing lips was their main focus despite the soft waves hitting the rock to create a romantic atmosphere. Y/N threw her sandals away for her hands could sneak into Harry's soft locks.

“You have no idea how much I want to stay like this and looking over the stars above,” he mumbled in her lips, “But, we must still present there.”

Y/N cracked a smile before licking his wet lips, her eyes stared at the pair of green irises piercing into her soul, “I know. We can sneak out when people don’t realise our presence. For now, I think your mum is looking for us.”

“Well then,” he shrugged, taking her sandals and locking their hands together, “Let’s go, darling.” . . Please excuse some errors Talk to me :)

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles au #harry styles series #harry styles writing #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles angst #harry styles smut #fic rec #fanfiction #romance

14 notes · View notes

shadowsong26fic · 4 years

Note

Writing meme question: 2, 7, and 9. (If it isn't too much) :D

Nope, not at all too much :D

2. Is there a trope you’ve yet to try your hand at, but really want to?

...hmmmmmmmmmm...that is a good question, lol. Uh, I’m not necessarily coming up with anything specific? Although I guess there is some stuff that I mostly do in either RP contexts or very private self-indulgent nonsense that it might be nice to treat Properly, so to speak. Things like self-indulgent crossovers and/or AU concepts, random things like wingfic/bonded creatures/etc. (though only in certain contexts and usually fitting those into an otherwise-canon universe), certain H/C tropes...also, not really tropes, but there’s a couple of rarepairs that I’d love to see more of (for which I’d pretty much have to write it myself lol) but either because I’m not sure I have a handle on the character voices involved or just because...pairing-focused stuff is not really where my fic brain lives for the most part, lol.

7. Share a snippet from one of your favorite pieces of prose you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

Oooooh, this is a hard one. Uh. Let’s go with this, from a short story set in one of my original worlds, The Farglass Cycle (previously known as Feredar):

The Audience Hall, at least, seemed to be mirrored rather than clear, other than the dais ahead of her. It gave the impression that Queen Kesshare was floating, rather than sitting, when the light hit her right. As if chairs and floors were for mere mortals, like her consort beside her, not for the iron-hard desert Queen with her dark hawk's eyes and deceptively simple and soft-looking silver gown. She looked like a bronze-gilt statue of a harsh Goddess of the Dead, and Sheminne didn't have to be a performer to know that every aspect of the Queen's clothing, posture, Hall, down to her husband slightly behind her, in shadow, on a more-solid throne, the fact that the cavernous room, with its graceful columns and shimmering floor was entirely empty save for the three of them and a handful of silent bodyguards... It was calculated for exactly that impression of ultimate power and doom.

There are some things I would edit here--I know that my Main Writing Flaw is run-on sentences/overuse and abuse of commas, semicolons, emdashes, ellipses...you name it, I love it. [Hi, we’re the Neverending Sentences, and we’ll be here all night]

...anyway, I’m aware of that weakness of mine, and I think I’d do some more editing here (I wrote this...yeesh, nearly ten years ago; and it sticks out as particularly run-on).

But what I like about this is that...I’m also not super good at description? (Like, for example, the fact that I have yet to describe Dr. Naar in Precipice is not only because I still haven’t made up my mind as to whether he’s Human or Besalisk; it’s also at least partly because fitting in descriptions like that is Awkward and I Don’t Like Doing It, lol).

This is, I think, one of my better efforts at description. It tells you pretty much everything you need to know about Kesshare (who, fun fact, is Not actually the villain in this story; but if other events abroad hadn’t upstaged her, she would absolutely be the villain of another story). And it gives you at least a little bit about the nation she rules (the Kingdom of the City of Glass; usually just referred to as Glass or the City of Glass), and something of its wealth/power/relationship with other nations.

Also, see here for a picture I commissioned of Kesshare awhile ago, mostly using the above passage as a reference, lol. (Kesshare is the top picture; the bottom is Taz, another character from the same story).

((Honorable mention, because they’ve been in my head lately either because characters or topic: a bunch of stuff from our faces like a mirror; both in terms of a few key moments that made Bo-Katan into who and what she became when we the audience meet her in TCW, as well as some things about her relationship with Satine and their respective philosophies; a couple snippets of miscellaneous AU bits (like this one, lol)...but I like this one, and it’s nice to draw attention to some of my original stuff sometimes, y’know?))

9. Which fic has been the hardest to write?

Oooooh, good question. Uh. Different things are hard for different reasons? I don’t think any fic has ever been Super Easy (except actually maybe The Devoted; that one flowed pretty smooth once I really got going). So, I guess...I’ll cycle through some of my other SW longfic projects and quick answer because Why Not:

Precipice has its ups and downs, depending on topic and focus. Arc Six was I think the hardest (despite the fact that Arc Seven has taken For Ever to get out, lol), between I’m not good at Sustained Fluff and Saw is a pain in the butt even if I wasn’t using his POV. (I swear, the next/final chapter Will Be Out Soon; I have...like...3-4 hours of work left on it which I swear I’m not using this meme to procrastinate <.< ...of course, then I have all the sequel/interquel stuff planned lol I’m sure I’ll have more Ups And Downs to complain about in the future)

our faces like a mirror, which I mentioned in the last answer, I’ve been working on on and off for, like, three years; it’s hard to balance Bo and Satine’s points of view without vilifying either; also because there is like zero canon definition of the period I’m writing about, there’s a lot of whitespace to fill in. It’s almost closer to writing original fiction in that way--I mean, I don’t have to do the heavy lifting of worldbuilding, and I am focusing on fleshing out something we have a hint of in canon that drew my attention (i.e., how did these two end up where they were/with such diametrically opposite beliefs/what is/was their relationship as sisters; how did bo-katan survive the mandalorian civil war since she pretty clearly was not with satine and the jedi; how much do their separate experiences during that time affect them/inform their future behavior (spoiler: A LOT)); but a lot of the specific events/storyline and even some of the characterization of these two women is pretty much built from scratch.

Distaff, I got stuck on ‘cause I borked my timeline and also haven’t 100% figured out how I wanted it to end.

The Phoenix; getting into Luke’s head was kind of hard; also the ending feels kind of rushed.

for we are a woven thread; find the strand; figuring out what to do with Obi-Wan’s thread was a little hard, also just...getting through the super downer beginning, lol.

SW2021 big bang: finding the actual Story buried in how the three focal characters connect and what that means for them/the rest of the galaxy. AKA lol what is the Plot.

...I’m not sure that actually answers the question, but it’s something in the neighborhood, at least?

Ask me a fic writer question! (Or, frankly, any question, I like to babble about writing to/at people. My writing discord is pretty quiet but I do that there sometimes XD)

#asked #answered #thinkingheron #meme #miscellania #shadowsong writes star wars #shadowsong writes original fic

2 notes · View notes

melissalfinch · 4 years

Text

My Journey From Theism to Agnosticism

I’m going to explain to you a few reasons why religion no longer works for me with supportive quotes from Richard Dawkins, Christopher Hitchens, Socrates, and Sigmund Freud among other cultural inspirations. This is not going to be about my personal, scandalous, and fabricated experiences in a controversial sex cult because I haven’t had any, but I have witnessed enough to convince myself and others that they do exist. I’m not going to get into the details of the ugly, mentally abusive conversations I’ve been a part of and overheard in various congregations from different faiths. You will not get to gawk in entertainment at my explicit memories of the self-doubt, shame, and brainwashing from what leaders referred to as healthy chastisement, which only led to self-deprecation, depression, and arrogance towards those who did not share my faith. I choose not to get into the heartbreaking details over my loss of friends and pets, and the damage it inflicted on my family relationships, job losses that resulted, and the regretful religion-based decisions that I made. I choose not to get into those details in order to keep my own tear ducts dry. Composing this article the way it’s going to be presented has already required a substantial amount of bravery, causing months of procrastination and even nausea as I type.

With that stated, let’s get down to it. After reading two very informative books on agnosticism and atheism, The God Delusion by Richard Dawkins and God Is Not Great by Christopher Hitchens, both world-renowned atheists, and watching a some of their debates, I’ve been able to pull out profound quotes that I can relate to from my very core and which support my own theories that question faith and that question the health of adopting a religion.

First off, I’m going to discuss the subject of preaching. I am convinced that people use others to solidify their own faith by bringing them on board and plugging into their heads the conviction they lack. In their passionate preaching efforts, it seems that they are trying to convince themselves more than anyone else. In the Bhagavad-Gita, Krsna says to Arjuna that Krsna will carry in other devotees what they lack, but I have found in most preaching efforts that religious followers are attempting to force into others what they themselves lack.

Let’s consider the subject of death for a detailed example. In Dawkins’ book The God Delusion, he points out:

“Polls suggest 95 percent of the population of the US believe they will survive their own death. I can’t help but wonder how many people who claim such belief really, in their hearts, hold it. If they were truly sincere, shouldn’t they all behave like the Abbot of Ampleforth? When Cardinal Basil Hume told him that he was dying, the abbot was delighted for him: ‘Congratulations! That’s brilliant news. I wish I was coming with you.’”

It surely has to make you wonder: are people insincere with their religion or more fearful of the process of death? Dawkins elaborates further on the subject by saying:

“It is a striking fact that if you meet someone opposed to mercy killing, or passionately against assisted suicide, you can bet a good sum they’ll turn out to be religious. Why deem it a sin if you sincerely believe you are accelerating a journey to heaven?”

Hitchens further exemplifies my point in his book by recalling how, when he was thirteen, the headmaster of his grade school in Dartmoor, England, said to him during a no-nonsense conversation:

“You may not see the point of all this faith now, but you will one day when you start to lose loved ones.”

Hitchens concludes:

“Why that would be as much as saying that religion might not be true, but nevermind that, since it can be relied upon for comfort.”

Which brings me to a question we should all ask ourselves: what’s more important, truth or comfort? I confess I still do not have a firm answer to that question, but I will say in my own modest attempt at wisdom, if you rely on something that may not necessarily be true but gives you comfort, down the road you will be more likely to question that very thing. Such doubt makes your comfort temporary and can have a reverse effect, often resulting in anger and regret.

To further support this theory, I’ll use what I found as a profound statement according to Hitchens’ take on Freud in The Future Of An Illusion, where he describes the religious impulse as:

“essentially ineradicable until or unless the human species can conquer its fear of death and its tendency to wish- thinking.”

The idea of practicing a religion out of fear and daydreaming simply no longer sits well with me nor others who tell me they have had similar experiences and have decided to leave religion behind. However, the group of atheists and agnostics I relate to is still in the minority, and many are afraid to admit it in a world still governed by religion.

In addition to specious faiths revealed through preaching and fears of death, we can also see that those pious leaders who chastise their congregations for sins and offenses are often the most guilty and ashamed of committing the same proclaimed abominations.

“The policeman who lashes the whore has a hot need to use her for the very offense for which he plies the leash.” (Shakespeare, King Lear)

I do not need to exhaust the hypocritical details of the acts of religious figures and dogmas to prove my point. You can spend hours and hours of your own time researching documents from various Judeo-Christian faiths criminalizing clergymen and other supposed divinely proclaimed leaders who have committed the same unspeakable crimes for which they condemn their flock.

After watching the 2019 film The Two Popes starring Anthony Hopkins and Jonathan Pryce, I heard Cardinal Jorge Mario Bergoglio (played by Pryce), who wishes to resign as archbishop, sadly admit, “The bigger the sinner, the warmer the welcome,” as if to poorly justify the behavior of imperfect people.

Now the question often arises, do we fight it? Do we fight organized religion the way organized religion has fought among itself in a similar sectarian manner? Nineteenth century German poet, writer, and literary critic Heinrich Heine, whose many works have been banned by German authorities, says in his work Gedanken Und Einfälle (Thoughts And Ideas):

“In dark ages people are best guided by religion, as in a pitch-black night a blind man is the best guide; he knows the roads and paths better than a man who can see. When daylight comes, however, it is foolish to use blind old men as guides.

Shouldn’t we use our knowledge of science to advance and not simply rely on fairy tales and fiction for all the answers?”

Marx critiques Hegel’s Philosophy Of Right by saying:

“Religious distress is at the same time the expression of real distress and the protest against real distress. Religion is the sigh of the oppressed creature, the heart of a heartless world, just as it is the spirit of a spiritless situation. It is the opium of the people.”

Surely we can admit the dangers of such an addictive drug.

In perhaps my favorite bold and simple statement on the matter, Hitchens paraphrases Socrates when he says:

“I do not know for certain about death and the gods but I am certain as I can be that you do not know either.”

I also reject the arrogance of such people who insist on the validity of their holy scriptures no matter how polite and endearing their character may seem during their attempts to persuade.

Hitchens concludes in his book God Is Not Great:

“Know the enemy and prepare to fight it.”

In conclusion, I refer to Deborah Feldman’s autobiographical memoir, Unorthodox: the Scandalous Rejection Of My Hasidic Roots, on which the limited Netflix series Unorthodox is based. Ester Shapiro, remarkably played by Shira Haas, explains when asked why she left her Hasidic Jew tradition, “God expected too much of me. Now I need to find my own path.”

My tears flowed during the viewing of that moment. For me, it has also been a painful process for my faith to change and to leave something I once felt so sure about. I often say that I broke up with God because the interrogation and grief I’ve received from others can easily be compared to a long breakup with a significant other.

In The Two Popes, Pope Benedict XVI, played by Anthony Hopkins, is also considering leaving his faith. He says, “I no longer wish to be a salesman.” The outreach conversion programs in the congregations in which I participated with always made me feel like I needed a shower.

In another conversation, Hopkins’ Pope states, “Change is compromise.”

Later on he admits, “The hardest thing is to listen, to hear God’s voice.” Whoever really hears God’s voice?”

One last quote I’ll share from Hitchens:

“God did not create man in his own image. Evidently, it was the other way about, which is the painless explanation for the profusion of gods and religions, and the fratricide both between and among faiths, that we see all about us and that has so retarded the development of civilization.”

Through my own life experiences, I’ve really seen the faults in humanizing our creator, this God we all talk about. People have let me down, broken my heart, misled me, misinformed me, betrayed me, violated me, and manipulated me. As I progressed in following a religion that egotistically humanizes God, I found their God also disappointing me, breaking my heart and misinforming me.

I find more ease in life simply not having all the answers, but enjoying wonderment in the science of nature simply for the sake of wonderment. As someone close to me once said:

“Dragonflies are more fascinating than gods.”

#atheism #agnostism #athiest #religion #richard dawkins #christopher hitchens #agnostic #blog writing #faith and spirituality #god #questioneverything #anti religion

4 notes · View notes

cherryfloyd-blog · 6 years

Photo

Jimmy Page - Behind Closed Doors

There are so many cookie crumbs to this story and I truly put as much research into this as my brain could handle. What started as a fun idea, soon turned into a late night adventure of notes sprawled across my bed, snacks to keep the energy going, glasses on; with a pen sticking of my mouth as I thumbed through as many pages of literature that I could get my hands on. There are several parts of this but for the sake of remaining unbiased I will keep it as straightforward and simple as I can. There has been a rumour floating around for fifty odd years, that Led Zeppelin; more specifically Jimmy Page, had made a deal with the devil. In this article, I will break down the events that have lead people to believe such things. In the end, it will remain impartial and will be open to interpretation which we can discuss further.

To begin, let’s talk about Jimmy’s growing idolisation and obsession with Aleister Crowley, famous for being an occult leader and magician. For more back story, Crowley was a British occultist who became known for pioneering the practice of black magic (or magick as he would call it). Aleister called himself Beast 666 and wrote literature on black magic and the occult, making him a major cult figure. He joined a few popular organizations to begin with, but ventured off into his own self created philosophy. Crowley believed himself to be the prophet entrusted with guiding humanity into the Eon of Horus, thus founding the Religion of Thelema.

(Below is the logo of Thelema)

Pictures of Crowley have since been discreetly used in pop culture, as if a small tribute. For example; The Beatles featured Crowley on their album cover art for Sgt Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club, he can be seen in the back row, if I’m correct. Building off of Page’s affinity for Crowley, which began to noticeably build by the mid to late 60’s, Page financed to own a bookstore in Britain which specialized in selling publishings of the occult and black magik. Needless to say, Jimmy was in deep at this point but still only scratching the surface of infatuation. The bookstore was named “The Equinox” which was also the name of a book that Crowley himself had written on the occult and magic. To this day, Jimmy Page has the second largest collection of Crowley memorabilia and literature, which is no small expense. His bookstore is now closed, but back in the day had been in stock of some very pricey and hard to come by black magik publications.

Another thing I found interesting, was Page being heavily influenced by very iconic blues artists, such as Robert Leroy Johnson (okay, maybe not that interesting, everyone in rock cites him as being the backbone of rock n roll today) nonetheless, Johnson died at the age of 27 from unsolved and suspicious causes. He never became famous while he was alive, but rumour has it that Johnson had also sold his soul to the devil in return for fame, at a crossroads, which Robert mentions in a few songs. A very small, unrelated tidbit of information, but it makes you wonder if our rock star idols gave up more than a normal life, to become internationally loved and recognized.

Around the year 1970, Jimmy had supposedly asked the band to perform a ritual with him, one that would bring them power and something along the lines of everlasting life? I know right, no biggie, just dabbling with some dark forces. Anyone that knows black magik, can tell you that spells like this are not something to be taken lightly or messed with. John Paul Jones was allegedly the only one to not take part in this pact, which you’ll later realize why that makes all of this so much more strange than it already is. If you think about it, had they made such a pact it would make sense. Robert Plant has made it to the list of top 100 best singers of all time in Rock history, not only that but made it to number one (1). Jimmy Page? Well he’s seen as a god and legend by almost every guitar player in the modern world, and has been ranked number two, only one spot behind Jimi Hendrix. John Bonham has been recognized as one of the best double kick drummers in history, quite literally, every drummer looks up to him as also an almost god like figure. As for John Paul Jones? There is no doubt the man is wicked talented, but not nearly as talked about or famed. We can all acknowledge the man has serious talent, and yet seems to be left in the shadows of his peers.

The first evidence of this pact can be seen with the album Led Zeppelin III, between the end of the last song and the paper label is the outro groove written into the vinyl was “So mote it be” on one side and “Do what thou wilt” on the other. The are basic phrases that are the core of Crowley’s belief system. By this point people were determined that Jimmy had become a member of O.T.O , and organization and cult who’s most influential and iconic member was none other than Crowley. More about the organization can be read about in a link below, but it should be noted that they have four pillar rules; one of which is to not speak of the organization to others or discuss the practices of which they studied. A rule, that Jimmy Page is believed to have broken at one point.

The second piece of evidence was apparent with the release of Led Zeppelin IV, when symbolism became a driving force. Inside the album is a painting of the hermit (a powerful tarot symbol), later in life Jimmy would refer to himself as being something of a hermit despite being a major public figure. The album provides no title, and shows no band name on the cover, but on the inside are four brightly printed logos across the sleeve. From left to right, these symbols represent Page, Jones, Bonham and Plant. Page has said in interviews that the symbols (for the most part) were taken from Rudolf Koch’s 1955 Book of Signs. Plant’s symbol is probably the easiest to decipher - as it is the feather of truth and courage, from the origins of Egyptian goddess Ma’at. John Bonham’s is believed to be either a drum kit, or the symbol of trinity of a family unit (meaning father, mother, child). John Paul Jones, which was likely picked by Jimmy, was the a celtic sigil for confidence and competence. However, Jimmy’s logo has always been the hardest to breakdown and figure out. While most people believe his logo represents saturn (which controls the Capricorn sign, Jimmy is a Capricorn so it would make sense), there is a certain level of mystery behind it. Page has famously said he will never tell anyone what it means. Thought Plant has once said that Page revealed the full meaning of all four signs, including a detailed discussion of what Zoso meant. Admittedly, Plant expressed he was too drunk to remember by the next morning, and when he had asked Page about it again, page replied with saying he couldn’t/wouldn’t discuss it. Now this could very well be Jimmy’s antics, or just general mysterious persona, or perhaps he simply cannot discuss or reveal information. Perhaps, this is the one of the four pillar rules of O.T.O that Page had broken. Jimmy is an all around very private person, who very rarely, if at all, talks about his religious or spiritual beliefs or practices.

It is worth noting that Sandy Denny (pictured below) of Fairport Convention, the voice on The Battle of Evermore track, was given her own sigil. The logo is translated to Godhead or the power of female.

According to Pamela Des Barres, Pages girlfriend of this era, has said that at this point Jimmy got very deep into the studying of Crowley, and had even asked her to search San Francisco and Los Angles for Crowley memorabilia. She had not fallen short on this task, and managed to dig up some very impressive artifacts, manuscripts, and even “magical” robes that Crowley has worn. In 1970, around the time of the ritual, Page had dropped a large chunk of cash to acquire Crowley’s mansion, Boleskine, located on Loch Ness. The home, once owned by Crowley, had a large history of suicides and an even bigger turnover rate of employees as they found the home to be no doubt inhabited by dark entities. Regardless of what one may believe, the house holds a sinister vibe. Page later sold the home in 1992, and had actually been very wary of ever living there and had left the estate in a caregivers possession. Of the 22 years that he had owned the house, he only spent 6 weeks in total living there. In 2016, the house unexplainably burned down. (pictured below is Jimmy at the mansion)

Now this next part is where shit gets bonkers, so to speak, the rest so far has been rumours and back stories and alleged encounters. Just a man with an obsession, and depending on your personal beliefs, you may find that he took his practices too far. Perhaps his intentions were pure, but looking at his life in general, what did Jimmy have to sacrifice to become quite literally a noteable person in history. Well let’s see.

Introducing Kenneth Anger; a fellow Crowley disciple and filmmaker, drug taker and subversive. He spent most of his time drawing magic circles, burning incense and chanting spells in Enochian - trying to do a real ritual exorcism. Plans for his film Lucifer Rising began to fall apart when Bobby Beausoleil (lead actor) - had to quit. Bobby, who later stole rough cuts and cameras from Anger would soon regret this. To take revenge, Anger supposedly made a talisman to curse Bobby. Within a year, Beausoleil had ended up convicted of murder with a life sentence for the murder of Sharon Tate as part of the Manson family murders. Wild, I know. Possibly just a coincidence, or even just a tall tale.

Cue Jimmy Page, who had agreed to do the soundtrack for Angers film, and the music Jimmy had produced is exactly what you’d expect. Dark, eerie, and perfect for a film of satanic proportions. Some of which can actually be heard in the intro for “In The Out Door”, his melancholy and devilish sound coming through in the song “In The Evening”. Kenneth and Jimmy had a love/hate relationship, and what started as a mutual appreciation and dedication to Crowley’s practice and image, soon turned to ugly turmoil just as quickly. Anger moved into Boleskine, where him and Page shared a love for Crowley memorabilia. However, as their friendship deteriorated, Anger was asked to leave the Crowley mansion. At the height of Led Zeppelin’s career, Jimmy had pulled out of the film project in 1975. Allegedly, Anger soon stated that he had cursed Page and Zepp with a major spell, a spell so big that it took all of Crowley’s teachings he could muster up, to cast upon them.

Almost immediately, the band started to experience turbulence and the eventual downfall of their career as one tragedy after another struck them to the core. Robert Plant was in a car crash, plunging off a cliff in Greece in 1975, nearly killing himself, his wife and his son Karac. Which meant cancelling the Physical Graffiti tour and having to record in a wheelchair. The make up tour was littered with negative events starting with Plant getting Laryngitis. Followed by ticketless fans in Cincinnati rioting and storming the gates. In San Francisco, manager Peter Grant and John Boham had gotten into a fight with Bill Graham, and nearly beating a Bill Graham employee to death. Both Grant and Bonham narrowly escaping serious charges and incarceration. Karac eventually fell ill, and no amount of money would make him better, as doctors had no idea what was wrong, by 1977 Karac had passed away and the tour was cancelled. At this point, Plant had quit the band and music in general in response to Page and Jones not showing up to his sons funeral.

Around this time, Page was nearly comatose on a daily basis due to a crippling Heroine addiction, and Bonhams alcoholism was raging out of control, becoming increasingly violent and unpredictable. In 1978, Sandy Denny, the goddess of the Battle of Evermore, drunkenly plunged down a flight of stairs; breaking her neck and died. The tip of the iceberg was the incident that occurred in September of 1980. Handlers had tucked Bonzo into bed after a band rehearsal, following a night of heavy drinking; assuming he would be okay, he’s done it a million times before, right? But as well know, John tragically died in his sleep from asphyxiation. It’s worth mentioning, that in the middle of all of this mayhem, John Paul Jones had remained completely untouched. While the loss of Karac and Bonham had affected John, being as they were family, he was never really directly affected. Could this be because he stayed as far away from the pact as possible? Could these events be natures way of taking something, in return for giving something such as power? Is this all the work of Angers alleged curse?

Robert Plant once addressed these very claims, as some people point fingers at Jimmy being the cosmic reasoning behind the passing of Karac and Bonham. Though, he says it’s a cheap shot. This is what Plant had to say about the matter - “The comments about how it was all connected with Jimmy’s dalliance with the dark side or whatever, that was cheap. I’ve never shared the preoccupations with him and I don’t really know anything about it. Fate is already written”. I suppose it has less to do with whether Page “sold his soul” and more to do with the possible repercussions of playing against nature, and whether such practices have a domino affect. The piling strange circumstances does make one wonder how involved Page really was, and how much the involvement took a toll on the band. Just how much of it can account for Led Zeppelin’s massive success, to the point of making history in music forever (everlasting life?). At the end it could all very well just be a bunch of mumbo jumbo non-sense. I am curious as to what you all think, feel free to leave comments or shoot me a message!

*Note; Do not take this too seriously, it’s all speculation and open for interpretation. Below are some interesting sites that I used in my search!

Resources:

https://forums.ledzeppelin.com/topic/15027-jimmy-and-crowley/

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Aleister_Crowley

https://carwreckdebangs.wordpress.com/2015/06/09/aleister-crowley-jimmy-page-and-the-curse-of-led-zeppelin-when-myth-magick-and-weird-facts-collide/

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ordo_Templi_Orientis

https://zososymbol.com/

#uhm I think I covered all the basis #im SO nervous to post this omfg #jimmy page #led zeppelin #robert plant #john paul jones #John Bonham #myposts

109 notes · View notes

scribeofmorpheus · 6 years

Text

Mark of the Wolf Part 8 (Derek Hale x Reader)

Catch up here! | Chapter Masterlist here

A/N: So it's finally here, the long-anticipated eighth chapter! Three cheers for the amazing readers who asked when my next instalment would be, you guys kept me writing through this stressful and busy academic year! Also, was the wait worth it? No. You guys deserved an update months ago! (I still have Halloween prompts in my inbox... *laughs nervously*) I hope you enjoy this chapter. All I can say is... the action picks up in the next chapter!

Note: Reader’s last name is Markolf. A lot of season 3 callbacks!

Words: 3062 (this chapter was long!)

Warnings: Past Trauma??? An insensitive Peter? Some tropes thrown in there! That’s it I guess.

"What did you find out?" Liam whispered, conscious not to be too loud since you were passed out on the cot a few meters away.

"It's too much to get into now," Derek whispered, his eyes on your resting form. "But I think I know how she survived the first attack."

"The John Doe case in New Hampshire?" Stiles asked. Derek nodded.

"In her memories, she hid behind a sage bush that caught on fire."

"Are you suggesting these hunters are afraid of Sage?" Peter fired off the question like it was a race after rolling his eyes at the idea.

"She burnt some sage at the animal clinic too. I think they have to sense who their targets are. The sage probably throws them off the scent… or however they track people."

"There has to be a reason people use sage to cleanse houses. I saged the hell out of my house after I found out we had a Hellhound on the Police payroll." Stiles revealed boldly. Everyone turned to look at him like he’d set his underwear on fire. "What? Lydia told me sage cleanses negative energy and auras."

After a beat, Liam added, "Sometimes the answers to the hardest questions are the simplest ones." He sounded like a philosophy major. Now it was his turn to get everyone's confused glares. "What? I read it on a fortune cookie once."

Scott's head snapped up with a thought, "What if they see their targets the way we see Kitsune? Auras.”

“And the sage acts as a smoke screen," Stiles finished Scott’s thought.

"Are we supposed to start sporting necklaces made of sage? Maybe make a nice cologne? Don't know about you, but I'm quite partial to the smell of my Eau De Nuit Oud. Besides, we can't set fire to any bush we come in contact with in hopes it may be sage when the hunters attack again." Peter said.

"We aren't a priority on their kill list now that we know they want Y/N." Derek reminded his uncle bitterly. "Which means we can't leave her unprotected until we find a way to fight them."

"Who's gonna be on first watch?" Stiles asked, "Because I'm in desperate need of a shower and a nap."

"I'll do it." Peter offered.

"And are we just supposed to trust that a former homicidal maniac like you wouldn't just give her up to the Order to try and save your own skin?" Stiles shot back.

"Hey!" Peter acted offended, "Reformed homicidal maniac to you."

Derek made his way to the exit, "Peter comes with me. I have a lead to check out."

"I'll take first watch." Scott declared.

Derek took a double take of your sleeping form. He was becoming all too aware of how increasingly protective over you he was getting. He didn't like where this was going. He clenched his jaw, and with large strides, he left the bunker with Peter on his tail. He kept berating himself; he should have never fucking kissed you!

***

You awoke with a hell of a headache and a throbbing feeling where Peter’s claws used to be. Your legs were as heavy as logs as you dragged them off the bed and onto the ground, your hand pressed to the nape of your neck in a feigned effort to sooth the stinging sensation.

You heard the faint whispers of voices coming from the other side of the room. For a moment you thought you had been in your own house. Correction: your new house with unpacked boxes and fresh sheets, but after a few seconds, when you finally got your bearings, you realised you were still in the Bunker. You sighed, feeling exhausted of your dark surroundings more than anything else.

"Look who's finally awake," Scott said with a relieved smile on his face.

"How long was I out?"

"A little under four hours," he answered.

"Four hours?" you asked in disbelief. "Why didn't anyone try and wake me?"

Scott awkwardly shuffled his feet, "Honestly, we figured after the night you just had, you could use a little rest."

You gave them a soft smile, "You got any pain killers?" you asked, still rubbing at your neck.

Scott looked at you with both a confused and concerned look, "It hasn't healed yet?"

"I heal faster than humans, but not as fast as werewolves," You stood up from the cot, which took more effort than you'd have liked. That memory sharing fiasco left you feeling winded, even several hours after said aforementioned memory sharing. Though, something about it made you feel different. It was like you were forgetting something crucial. You only remembered bits and pieces, like the last remnants of a dream that was slowly slipping from your mind. Instinctively you traced your lips with the tips of your fingers. What were you forgetting?

"Here you go," Scott handed you a container of painkillers and some bottled water.

"Thanks," You looked around and noticed how empty the bunker was. "Where is everyone?"

"It's daylight. The hunters don't come out during daylight so Stiles went home for a change of clothes and some sleep. Peter and Derek took off on some 'urgent business' and Liam… Well, he's supposed to be here by now. It's his turn on guard duty."

"Guard duty?"

"You were unconscious. And with what happened to the animal clinic, the hunters are after you too."

"You guys would do that, help a total stranger?" You looked at Scott in awe. There were very few people willing to put their lives on the line to help a total stranger. Scott simply gave you a well-worn smile, like he'd practised it many times before. A smile that said 'you're not the first stray we've taken under our wing'. In a way, he reminded you of your older brother. They both have that annoying to God hero complex. Then, like a bolt of lightning striking twice, you remembered the devastating state of the animal clinic. "Shit! The clinic. How the hell am I going to explain what happened?"

Scott put a hand on your shoulder, "Don't worry. We have a sheriff in our pocket."

"What? The town's sheriff knows about werewolves?"

"He should. He's Stiles's dad after all."

"Who are you people?" You were completely dumbfounded by the level of transparency going on in this town. Maybe moving here for a fresh start away from all things supernatural wasn't the best idea.

"Actually," Liam's voice erupted from the entrance, he tried to take the steps gracefully but wound up almost tripping on an untied shoelace. He was flush, probably ran here. "Most of the town knows.”

"The whole town?" This was getting out of hand. Does no one know the first rule of surviving as a supernatural is to keep their very existence secret? Moving here was definitely not the fresh start you needed. You were wracking your brain trying to think of the reason you chose to move to Beacon Hills. You were coming up empty.

"Prompt as usual Liam," Scott teased.

Liam gave him the closest thing to puppy eyes you had ever seen, then shrugged and said "Sorry. Overslept."

Scott made his way out of the bunker, giving you a sheepish wave, you noticed the circles under his eyes at that moment. He was probably more tired than he let on. Liam dug his fists into his jeans and walked towards you, a curious look in his eye. He stood close to you, his nose protruding away from his body. He looked like he was searching for something with his nose. Wait… Was he?

"Are you sniffing me?" You asked with a raised brow. Liam almost seemed to jump from embarrassment.

"Sorry. I was just trying to see if I could sense your..." He stumbled around trying to find the right word.

"My being a werewolf?" He nodded. You giggled a little. "Unlikely. When you don't shift for a prolonged amount of time, the gap between your werewolf and human side grows." You touched your neck wound. Soon you'd probably no longer be able to heal faster than normal people.

Liam noticed your wistful expression and cleared his throat, "So, what do you want to do? We could leave the bunker. I'm sure you're tired of being cooped up in here."

"Is that a good idea?"

"Sure, as long as I'm on guard duty and you don't get kidnapped by tree people."

Your mood suddenly picked up. You knew exactly what you wanted to do. "How do you feel about unpacking boxes?"

***

Derek and Peter were walking silently side by side somewhere in the woods. Derek had a permanent scowl on his face. Even his stride was faster and more purposeful than usual and Peter noticed.

"You've been awfully quiet," Peter remarked as he walked with less purpose and more leisure than his brooding nephew.

"Don't have anything to say."

Peter rolled his eyes, "So you dragged me out to the woods for some Uncle-Nephew bonding time? Gotta say, you're doing such a good job. Bonding requires actual, you know, bonding. We can start with some small talk."

Derek simply ignored Peter and continued walking on.

"Okay, I'll start. That Doctor, she's quite easy on the eyes. Not to mention, very damaged. All that emotional baggage of watching her poor boyfriend die. But hey, from all the sexual chemistry I noticed between you two of you --" Peter was cut off by a very annoyed Derek suddenly grabbing the collar of his V-neck shirt. "Ahhk, careful! This is Armani."

Peter stared into Derek's angry glare and everything fell into place. It was like a light bulb went off in his head. "Oh, that's why you've been more broody than usual. You like the good doctor, don't you?"

Derek let out a deep sigh and let go of Peter's collar. He pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath. He had played right into Peter's manipulative hands. He'd overreacted. "Don't be ridiculous."

"So that kiss was just what? A European handshake?" Peter teased like the smug bastard he was.

Derek's brows rose up in surprise, finally ending his permanent scowls reign on his face. "How did you?"

After a beat of letting his nephew stew about in his shocked disposition, Peter finally reminded him, "The dream state? You may not have seen me, but I saw everything too. And from what I saw, she could do with a few counts of therapy."

"Don't be an ass."

"Fine, then tell me where we're going!"

"The root cellar. Alyster mentioned a 'Mother Tree'. The root cellar is right below the Nemeton."

Peter rolled his eyes, "Last year’s news. Get to the part that makes me go 'Oh!'"

Derek rolled his eyes, "In the dream state I saw a symbol. A tattoo. I think I've seen it before, in the root cellar where Pai--" His eyes turned dark from the bitter taste of that particular memory. Peter's face was no longer smug, he decided it was better if he say nothing. But being accommodating wasn't his winning quality.

"So, Y/N… She a good kisser?"

"Peter!"

He shrugged, "What? I'm just making small talk."

Derek began walking again, "Well, stop."

Peter hurried after him, "Ah, the youth. No time for the little things anymore."

After what felt like hours, Derek and Peter finally stumbled upon familiar ground. Derek did most of the heavy lifting, trying to make a path to the collapsed root cellar. Peter stood over his shoulder barking orders on how to clear the rubble. "No not that one, move the other one, it's bigger."

"You're welcome to come down here and help!"

"I already am!"

Derek sighed what was probably his hundredth sigh of the day. After clearing a path, both Hale boys went under the unstable structure. Derek's eyes grew cold and dark when he spotted the blood stain that haunted the cellar. He pushed his feelings under the surface and tried to ignore it. Even Peter was dishevelled by it, but he too swallowed hard and tried to ignore it.

"Here," Derek said, his eyes were their wolfish blue to see better. His hand was tracing the weird carved symbol on a snaky root.

"Is that the--".

"Celtic five-fold knot? Yes." Derek said grimly.

"So what, you think Jennifer's behind all this? Because I can assure you, she's very dead."

Derek wrestled with the idea for a bit, but considered it impossible, "No, she used the knot as a way to channel the power from her 'sacrifices'." Derek spit out the words like venom. "I'm thinking the Order of Sagittarius use it for the same purpose. Somehow, when they kill someone, it's like they absorb their essence. I think all this is linked to a Nemeton. A much older one."

"That's a bit of a reach, don't you think?"

Derek smirked at Peter, "You got another explanation as to what Mother Tree means? Or how the head hunter somehow absorbed Alex's… essence? Or the fact they can disappear into trees apparently?"

"No…" Peter saw merit in Derek's train of thought, didn't mean he enjoyed him being right. "But this is a druid symbol and our friendly neighbourhood vet seems to be otherwise occupied."

"Guess we'll have to do things the old fashioned way." He took his phone out of his pocket and waved it about. But first, Derek had to make a pit stop at the animal clinic. "Go ahead and fill the others in. There's something I need to do first."

***

You were absentmindedly leaning against the counter of your kitchen island. A hot cup of tea pressed between your palms. The steam formed curtains of white, blurring your vision. You kept moving the rim of the cup from side to side on your bottom lip -that feeling from earlier never left. You kept feeling like you forgot something. You had your keys and the stove wasn't on when you got home but the feeling refused to subside. In the background, you heard Liam and his friend, Mason -who he called to help with the unpacking of boxes- chatting.

"So then he tried to kiss me, and I didn't know what to do so I just turned my head and pretended to sneeze really loudly."

Your skin prickled a little when you heard Mason say kiss. What happened in the dream state? What were you forgetting?

"Didn't you tell him you're with Corey?"

"Well… not really. I said I was with someone, but long distance means I don't get to see Corey as much as I'd like. So, I'm always going solo to everything. Always." Mason said with a hint of dramatic flare. Liam let out a soft chuckle.

A knocking sound emanated from your doorway. The door was wide open to let the warm light of the golden hour into your living room. The knock was more a courtesy than a necessity.

"Hey, Derek. What are you doing here? Thought I'd be guarding Y/N till sundown?"

"Just here to drop something off," Derek answered. His voice was like a cooling breeze stirring you from thought. You felt hyper-aware all of a sudden. Like someone poured ice water down your back. And because the universe was always pulling rugs from under your feet, of course you were still wearing the dishevelled baggy clothes you had taken a nap in. You set your cup of tea down when Derek walked into your kitchen. He stopped for a second, studying your face like he was waiting for you to do or say something, but you didn't. Something about the way he held himself felt different. He seemed… almost self-conscious. It was jarring to see him look vulnerable, even if it only lasted for a few seconds.

Derek looked around your newly unpacked kitchen, "Hmmm… I think an old friend of mine in high school used to live here once. The house looks different though."

You felt cheeky all of a sudden, "Couldn't lead with a simple Hello?"

He looked you dead in the eyes, "Simple isn't in my nature." There was a bit of fire in his words. In the background, you heard Mason whistle lowly and something that sounded like a smack followed by a disapproving "Ow!" Derek smirked at the whole situation.

"Tea?"

"No, thanks." He walked closer to you, out of the view of the boys in your living room. "I came to drop this by and tell you everything with the animal clinic has been sorted. Talked to the Sheriff about what happened." Derek handed you the family picture that had been on your desk before the attack. There was a crack in the glass and a tear in the photo from an arrowhead.

A smile crept onto your face as you took the photograph. Your fingers touched for a moment and you felt a jolt. In your peripheral you saw Derek wrestle with his own face muscles, he was trying to keep a straight face. Then an image of a frantic Derek trying to wake you snuck into your mind. And like an elastic band returning after being stretched, you finally knew what had been haranguing you all day. The kiss. Your heart began to race and a flush raced to your cheeks too. You shook the memory away and tried to act as nothing had changed. Only, everything had changed. Were you attracted to Derek?

“Th-Thank you,” your gratitude came out as little more than a whisper, but you knew his wolf hearing picked it up just fine. You looked up to his eye-line, “I…” The golden light made his green eyes appear mystical. His piercing gaze threatened to drown you in a sea of green.

The sound of Derek's phone ringing shifted the tense atmosphere in the room giving you a chance to take a breath. Derek’s mood shifted. On the other end of the line, you could hear Scott say, "We may have a small problem."

Great! So now, not only was an all-powerful group of supernatural hunters gunning for you but apparently, there was yet another thing to add to your growing list of problems. And not to mention the mixed feelings you were struggling to decipher about your kiss with Derek.

Part 9 is HERE!

MASTERPOST | Mobile

As Always: Hope you enjoyed the chapter. Let me know what you think so far! Don’t be afraid to ask to be added to the tag list and just a heads-up. I will try to update more often. Also, I just finished watching Teen Wolf completely, high-key offended Noah and Melissa didn’t end up together! lol. Broken tags crossed out.

Tags: @melissavercos @divisingstories @theflash-trash @mynamesalreadytaken @island-end @chipster-21 @helloscorpious @marvelismyfantasy @anonymousfanfic @homra-the-red-clan @derangedangel @phonegalhelp @bowtiesandwhiskers @soldierwinterthe @alina-barnes @sumlariss @luckythepizzadog4444 @tlytxia @drunklili

Permanent tags: @gruffle1 @thechickvic @notawarriorjustyet @electroma89

#scribescribbles #derek hale #Derek Hale x reader #reader insert #teen wolf #teen wolf imagines #Scott McCall #stiles stilinski #liam dunbar #Peter Hale #hales being drama queens #mark of the wolf fic #teen wolf fic #tyler hoechlin #Tyler Posey #dylan o'brien #dylan sprayberry #Lydia will appear soooon for you Stydia's

87 notes · View notes

douchebagbrainwaves · 3 years

Text

HERE'S WHAT I JUST REALIZED ABOUT PROFITS

And yet because of the slow sales cycle. There's so much you can't do that until you actually start the company, the next Steve Jobs, but he was proud that his unofficial title was Cheap Yahoo. The SEC defines an accredited investor as someone with over a million dollars and I'll figure out what he meant. The politicians all saying the same thing. Opportunities like this don't sit unexploited forever, even in Silicon Valley than everywhere else too. Com. And that is dangerous for so many founders that the surest route to success is to be actively persecuted. You may wonder how much of a problem. This is just a matter of pride, and a server collocated at an ISP. Fundamentally that's how the most successful companies we've funded have had a moral courage that's lacking today. But should you start a startup by just writing code.

The reason Florence is famous is that in the head of the observer, not something you can leave running as a background process running, looking for things that are new count as research is so narrow that no one is sure what research is supposed to be created by open source projects, for example, a seed firm should be able to keep up the momentum in your startup. East Coast after Yahoo. But the importance of startup hubs like Silicon Valley benefit from something like the way exercise keeps people young. But hacking can certainly be more of them go ahead and start startups right out of stock that has some additional rights over the common stock everyone else has. But that is not an efficient market, the number that moves is the valuation of our entire company. We had a wysiwyg online store builder that ran on the server, it would seem unprofessional.1 2 fundraising is to get lots of referrals. No matter how much money Yahoo would make from each link.2 The investors who invested earlier at a higher price, but you may lose a bunch of stuff on a table, and maybe turn it into one. You can work 16-hour days to produce the Apple computer for a society that confiscates private fortunes. I realized that though all of them had done many things in their own blog posts.

Is it a problem if customers feel pinched: you may even be the majority. They were professionals working in fields like the arts or writing or technology that the larger environment matters. I am always looking. Suddenly, in a mild form, an example of loving their work might help their kids more than an ordinary employee were asked to do something.3 They send spam because it works. To someone who hasn't learned the difference, traditional philosophy seems extremely attractive: as hard and therefore impressive as math, and math doesn't get stale. It's a smart move. Because people in the world for the better. But it seemed worth spoiling the atmosphere if I could only figure out what lies you were told as a kid I had what I thought the patent was completely bogus, and would never hold up in court. This is the counterexample to the design principle I just mentioned. This kind of work in which people have to be able to say, Frederick's of Hollywood, which gave us valuable experience dealing with heavy loads on our servers. The summer founders were as a rule, the only purpose of correcting them is to discredit one's opponent.4

That is so much better than the others'. Buildings If you go to the public markets. What have other people learned about design? As a Lisp hacker. Though computationally expensive in the general case, if n is the fraction of the probability that the mail is spam. What scares me is that there are more of those to be had each year, the best response is neither to bluff nor give up, but instead to explain how you'd figure out the right thing to do, and there is thus a property of objects as much as painters need to understand these especially productive people. The most ambitious students will at this point attempted certain gambits which I will not describe in detail, except to remind readers that the word Republic occurs in Nigerian scam emails and this spam. You may be thinking, why deal with investors at all?

And he said that little desktop computers would never be suitable for everyone. And since individual performance is so hard to make their own. That's an interesting idea.5 That depends on how well they do are not orthogonal.6 And that is more likely to happen in the Bay Area it's the Band of Angels.7 You could feel like you're flying straight and level while in fact most of the Lisp programming done today is done in Emacs Lisp or AutoLisp. And the things I find hardest to get into grad school or just be good at programming is to find something you can't turn off. By the time you get throngs of geeks. I'm British by birth. Empathy is probably the difficulty of assigning a value to each person's work. Because they can't predict the winners in advance?

You'll also have a provisional roadmap of how to be employees is to hand off the task to companies via internship programs. The ideas that come to them for funding. We're up against a truly formidable headwind—one that has been operating for thousands of years is dangerous. Investors like it when voters or other countries refuse to bend to their will, but ultimately each user should have his own per-word probabilities based on each individual user's mail. Electricity seemed an airy intangible. But Lisp macros are unique. Merchants bid a percentage of their profits? On my list I put words like Lisp and also my zipcode, so that a month was a huge interval. Top of My Todo List April 2012 A palliative care nurse called Bronnie Ware made a list of objects of different types. Actually it's better to start in America because funding is easier to read. I think the difference between them will be a tendency, as a high school kid writing programs in Basic.

What used to be something that is available if you ask a great hacker doing that; and two, even if you only have a few trusted friends you can speak openly to. Recently I've spent some time trying to push your price down. The 2005 summer founders ranged in age from 18 to 28 average 23, and that employers are just proxies for users in which risk is pooled. It sounds crazy, but there's a continuum here. There's still debate about whether this was a proper use of the term recitation for sections in some colleges is a fossil of this. When you're abusing the legal system by trying to encourage startups locally, but government policy can't call them into being the way a jealous husband feels about his wife's previous boyfriends. I've been telling founders that the company was really successful. After a few seconds it struck me how familiar they seemed.8 What's really uncool is to be undisciplined. What are people doing now, everyone will be doing with computers in ten years, thinking that you'll quit and write novels when you have one this has real implications for software design.

Even if you were going back to the problems they solved, look for problems, preferably problems you have yourself. You should respond in kind when investors behave upstandingly too. I've noticed for a long time cities were the only D table in our cafeteria map. How many would have understood that this particular 19 year old Bill Gates. Startups prosper in some places.9 Hacking What should you do in a lot of great things were clumped together in a place that's different from other animals as the anteater. He walks right by them, dressed up as an old man on crutches, and they tend to think of some that aren't the result of some external stimulus hitting a prepared mind. Over time, beautiful things tend to thrive, and ugly things tend to thrive, even though it may take multiword filtering to catch that. Civil War was about slavery; people would be intolerable. Y Combinator is that founders are willing to compromise.

Notes

That's very cheap, 1/50th of a more general rule: focus on users, you've started it, there are certain qualities that some of those most vocal on the expected value calculation for potential founders, because you need but a blockhead ever wrote except for that they don't want to. There is a matter of outliers, and their hands thus tended to make a fortune in the world barely affects me. I.

On Bullshit, Princeton University Press, 1996. Robert Morris wrote the first version was mostly Lisp, you don't need.

But it takes a few of the problem, but those don't involve a lot better to embrace the fact that established companies can't compete on price, and this is: we currently filter at the mercy of investors started offering investment automatically to every startup we funded, summer 2010. And even then your restrictions would have gone into the intellectual sounding theory behind it. E-Mail. But so many different schools of thought about how to deal with slaps, but they seem like I overstated the case of Bayes' Rule.

A round. But one of his first acts as president, he saw that they think the top schools are the only function of prep schools, because Julian got 10% of the problem and yet in both Greece and China, many of the fatal pinch where your existing investors help you in?

No VC will admit they're influenced by buzz. Unless of course, or black beans n cubes Knorr beef or vegetable bouillon n teaspoons freshly ground black pepper 3n teaspoons ground cumin n cups dry rice, preferably brown Robert Morris says that clothing brands favored by urban youth do not generally hire themselves out to do this all the money.

Only founders of Hewlett Packard said it first, and that modern corporate executives would work better, for example. And while they tried to lowball them. How can people who lost were us. If you're dealing with the other hand, he tried to preserve their wealth by forbidding the export of gold or silver.

On the other people who should quit their day job writing software goes up more than 20 years, maybe they'll listen to them rather than trying to upgrade an existing investor, and there didn't seem to them till they also influence one another both directly and indirectly. He did eventually graduate at about 26. They each constrain the other meanings are fairly closely related. Except text editors and compilers.

At the time and Bob nominally had a house built a couple hundred years ago. S P 500 CEOs in the former, because talks are made of spolia. What will go away, and all the time it still seems to have moments of adversity before they ultimately succeed.

Stone, op. Actually he's no better or worse than he was before, but that it's a departure from the Dutch not to quit their day job. So if you're a big effect on college admissions there would be to write your dissertation in the fall of 2008 but no doubt often are, but more often than not what it would have been about 2,000. She was always good at acting that way.

#automatically generated text #Markov chains #Paul Graham #Python #Patrick Mooney #implications #words #cups

0 notes