#TOS is good but it’s way too camp for me and I never watched an episode of it till I was an adult | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

zeninsama-moved · 1 year ago

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pay up!

gojo satoru x female reader

satoru's poor time management has you working overtime, and this cheap bastard has something other than cash to pay you with (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

note from author mercury: this is my entry for our slimeball collab over on @bastardblvd , figured the host of the slimiest event on this corner of the internet should probably contribute a lil somethin. let's pretend like i'm not shitting bricks bc this is my first time writing for gojo <3 ending is a little abrupt but i needed to get this out asap or i'd be scrutinizing it for the next five months

content warnings: female reader, unprotected sex, oral and fingering (reader receiving), overuse of the word 'cute', praise and obnoxious petnames (reader receiving), needing to keep quiet, fucking on the couch while the kids are asleep down the hall so if that's a concern for you please don't touch, panty fetish if you squint, cumshot?, implied you've fucked before, unfair compensation for your labor lmao, multiple references to the slimeball au so that may be super jarring if you aren't familiar.

↳ word count: 3.9k

It's almost eleven, which means Satoru is... very late.

Shit happens, you get it. Maybe work ran later than expected, or the train hit a freeloader on the way back to Grimetown, but still. You can’t help but feel bothered by the lack of text message from your pseudo-employer.

You would never complain about Megumi and Tsumiki. They're absolute angels, and caring for them has never felt like work. Besides, your only other options were a waitressing job at Franky’s or the graveyard shift at the gas station, which you heard is filled with... interesting characters at that time of night. Caring for the coolest elementary schoolers alive seemed like a no-brainer. The arrangement worked out in your favor as well. Satoru ended up moving you into his apartment complex due to his demanding schedule, wanting you to always be close – like two apartments down the hall close.

Contrary to the name, the Luxury Condos on Bastard Boulevard weren’t much of an upgrade from your last apartment. The landlord must be loaded because it’s a miracle this place passed inspection, but you’ll gladly accept updated appliances and neighbors without a small army of pet rats. Even the offensively high rent doesn’t bother you because your pseudo-employer paid it all in cash.

(You tried asking Satoru exactly where he got all this money from, to which he said, “It ain’t easy being the sexiest designer sunglasses model on this side of town. You gotta work hard to play hard!”)

Anyways, whatever is holding him, you hope it’s a good excuse.

In the meantime, you’ve taken up camp on his sofa, wrapped in a throw blanket that smells vaguely of Satoru's disgustingly expensive cologne. You were too lazy to change the channel from whatever cartoon Megumi was watching before bedtime, laughing through your nose every now and then. It’s not that bad, but still… You’d really, really like to go back to your apartment and hit the hay.

Maybe a little snooze won’t hurt, but of course, right as you close your eyes...

The smart lock clicks behind you. It’s a quarter past eleven when Satoru enters the apartment, looking gorgeous and unbothered, sunglasses low on his nose and DAISO cat-print tote bag slung over his arm.

"Daddy's home!"

"Shh!" you're glaring from the couch, lips drawn in a frown. "Megumi and Tsumiki are sleeping! Where the hell were you? You couldn't give me a heads up?"

"Sorry, babycakes. They loved what I was giving 'em, so the shoot ran overtime." Satoru grins at you, pulling the sunglasses off his face and ditching them in the catch-all along with his keys. His shoes are toed off and left by the front door. "Why, you miss me that bad?"

You're tempted to throw one of the many decorative pillows right at his big, dumb head. Instead you sink back into the couch, pulling the blanket tighter around your frame, grouchy. "Whatever," you sigh. "You're four hours late, so you better pay up."

Satoru sucks in air through his teeth. "Yeah, about that..."

You don't like where this conversation is heading.

"Some big guy outside the train station jacked my wallet on the way home. You'll never believe it, he had this fuckin'... worm? On his shoulder? Shit, it was crazy. So I don't have the cash to pay you, but–"

You glance over your shoulder at the man now rummaging through his bag behind you, eyes and tone full of warning. "Satoru..."

An opened package is waved in your face by a beaming idiot.

"– Ichigo daifuku! Your favorite!"

He's so full of shit. There’s one piece of mochi left, does he really think his already-eaten train snack will fix this? Probably, and as much as you'd hate to admit it, you do like strawberry daifuku mochi. Dammit.

Despite your annoyance, you don't get up from your spot on the couch. You're tempted to storm out, blow past Satoru and grab your things, maybe give him a good shove while you do it. However, you're tired, and no grand display of your frustrations would change the fact that you'd be returning tomorrow to pick up his kids from school. Also, your apartment is literally two doors down, so you wouldn't truly be escaping Satoru – you'll still feel his annoying energy seeping through the absurdly large gap under your door while you sit there, in the apartment that he bought you, stewing in your annoyance and eating your feelings in a single daifuku mochi.

God, you might hate this man. You don't even wanna look at him, but despite feeling this way, you let Satoru move closer, ditching the bag of sweets in favor of pinching your puffed-out cheek in his fingers.

“Aw, come on,” he pouts, redirecting your face towards his in an attempt to get you to look at him, but you don’t give him the satisfaction. You force yourself to look anywhere else but the man above you and stubbornly pretend you can’t feel the cool puffs of his mint-gum breath, or notice his devious grin from the corner of your eye. “Don’t be mad at me, babycakes. Is there anything I can do to make it better?”

“You can go to the ATM and get me some cash."

“Yeah, besides that.”

On the subject of things you hate about Satoru, you hate how quickly he switches up on you. One minute, he's the most annoying man you've ever had the misfortune of knowing. The next, he's smooth and serious. The kind of man that confidently leans in and ghosts his lips over your neck, intentionally fanning his breath over your skin because you made the mistake of telling him you're ticklish there.

"There must be some way for me to make this up to you," Satoru murmurs into your neck, the low vibrations of his voice making you shiver. It's then that you finally cave, eyes slowly meeting his, brilliant blues hidden behind heavy lids.

Unfortunately, he's very handsome.

"Okay," you huff. "Fine."

He kisses your cheek, then your nose, and then he kisses you.

You hate to admit it, but Satoru knows how to kiss. His lips are warm and soft, meshing with yours with confidence, tongue easing into your mouth in a practiced motion.

He momentarily breaks the kiss to join you on the couch, kneeling on the cushion beside you and leaning back in, cradling your cheek in his hand, murmuring against your lips before kissing them again.

"Let me show you just how much I appreciate you."

Satoru reaches down and rests his hand between your thighs, cupping your pussy through the rough fabric of your shorts. You bite your lip at the sensation, stifling a needy whimper, but he knows. Your grouchy demeanor melted so easily for him.

How cute, his little tsundere.

He squeezes you softly, then rubs four fingers up and down, keeping his pace slow.

"You know I can't do it without you, right?"

Your hips lift off the couch, chasing his hand as it continues its unbothered pace. Satoru rewards you by focusing the stimulation on your clit, switching to tighter, firmer circles over the sensitive bud.

"You're just saying that," you mutter.

"Nuh uh," Satoru teases. "I've never seen anyone be so good with my kids. They love you, you know. Maybe more than they love me."

That's not too difficult, you want to quip, but opt to bite your tongue instead. Satoru's touch feels way too good, you don't want him to stop or risk having your orgasm put off just over a snark. Instead, you curl your fingers into the nape of his neck, fidgeting with the shorter tufts of hair there.

Satoru kisses you again. His hand stops playing with your clit just to skim higher, unfasten the button and zipper on your shorts so he can touch you where you both want it most.

"And you know," he murmurs between kisses, fingers sneaking under the loosened waist of your shorts, then your panties, until you feel his fingers make contact with your bare clit. He watches your reactions closely, smiling when you gasp and buck up into his touch. "I like you too. How can I not? You're too damn cute."

His slender middle finger skims your folds, feeling the wetness there, letting it gather and get him all slick, making it easier when it finally pushes inside you. Just one finger already feels like so much, almost too much. He feels your walls bear down, his cock twitching lazily in his pants. How long has it been since he’s had you last?

You let him have you once before, back when he spent the whole day helping you move into your new apartment, carrying all those heavy boxes for you like the gentleman he is – and you, being the sweet peach you are, insisted on making him dinner as a thank you.

You reminded Satoru of a cute little housewife, puttering around the kitchen in your apron, though nothing was cuter than the sight of you sinking onto his dick that night, your hands and pussy clinging to him like you couldn’t get enough.

Every time he jerks off, he thinks of that adorable, pinched look on your face when the fat head of his dick first speared you open.

It's kind of embarrassing, the hold you have on him.

When you're taking his finger with ease, Satoru presses a second into your cunt, further stretching it out. "Come on, baby, open up for me," he coaxes, voice low and sultry. "Fuck, you don't know how bad I missed this pussy. Gonna let me fuck it again? Hm?"

"Uh huh," you're nodding, dazed, and the sight of you makes Satoru grin. The heel of his palm presses into your clit, providing the right amount of pressure when combined with his fingers.

"Yeah? Gonna let me have this cute pussy to myself?"

Cruelly, the motion stops.

The lack of stimulation makes you pout.

Satoru's fingers glide out of you with an embarrassingly loud squelch, intentionally brushing along your clit as they withdraw from your shorts and panties. His hand emerges, fingers glistening with clear threads of arousal webbed between them, and before you can think, he slips them past your lips and presses firmly on your tongue, prompting you to suck.

"Tastes good?" Satoru coos, delighted at your eagerness. "Let me taste now, okay, cutie?"

Shyly, you nod. His fingers withdraw from your mouth, leaving a dribble of spit on your bottom lip.

Satoru repositions himself to kneel on the floor in front of you, tugging you by the hips so your bottom half comes right to the edge of the couch, dangerously close to his face. He leans in and presses a soft kiss to your cunt, the sensation muted by your shorts, but it still makes you gasp. His fingers hook into your shorts and you lift your hips to help him pull them off, but he makes no effort to remove your panties with them. Instead, he fixates on the little wet patch right in the center, caressing it with his finger. Admiring it.

Fuck, you’re so cute. He can’t wait to get his mouth on you.

"Need to keep quiet, okay?" Satoru instructs, peering up at you through his lashes, watching you take your bottom lip between your teeth and nod. The last thing you need is to disturb the two rugrats asleep down the hall, even if you could pry yourself off Satoru and pull your shorts back on in record time. You don't want this moment to stop, not when the promise of his mouth on your cunt is so deliciously close.

You look so sweet like this, he thinks. Chest heaving, eyes wide and eager, one hand fisting the hem of your shirt, holding it over your stomach for a better view. Satoru smiles up at you, maintaining eye contact as he presses a kiss to your inner thigh.

“What a beautiful girl.”

Satoru buries his face in the soft warmth between your legs. His nose presses into your clit, taking in your scent as his tongue ventures lower, finally getting a taste of your pussy and he shamelessly moans. It’s faint through the fabric. He knows he could taste you better without them, but something about eating pussy through a cute pair of panties never fails to get him so fucking hard. He likes watching them get wetter and wetter, until they're completely soaked from arousal and saliva and clinging to the shape of the pretty pussy underneath.

Your other hand flies down immediately, resting on the back of Satoru’s head to urge him closer, and of course he’ll indulge you. He’ll eat you just the same, dragging his tongue in broad strokes up to your clit, then sucking it into his mouth.

The muted sensation makes you whine. It’s not enough, yet so good. Enough to make your little pussy flutter under your panties. You push his head harder against your cunt, desperate to keep the kissing suction over your clit. You’re certain you could cum like this, between the pressure of Satoru’s tongue and the vibrations when he moans against you.

A string of saliva connects Satoru’s swollen lips to your panties when he pulls back for air, but this time he pulls the soaked fabric aside, finally getting an eyeful of your pussy.

“Well hi, gorgeous,” he lovingly coos, pressing a light kiss over your clit. “Did you miss me?”

Is he… really talking to your pussy?

Scratch that, you hate him again.

“What are you doing?” You ask, breathless.

“What do you mean? We’re having a moment,” Satoru replies, voice still sweet and airy, the same way one would talk to a cute little pet.

If you didn’t need him so badly, you’d kick him right in his dumb face.

Fortunately, Satoru cuts his little bit short and dives back in, tongue sweeping through your folds, finally getting his first real taste of your pussy. You taste even better than he could imagine.

You release a breath you didn’t even know you were holding, body melting into the couch. Your fingers tangle in soft white hair, urging his head deeper, wanting to feel more of his mouth and Satoru obliges. His tongue dips into your cunt, fucking you with it, then drags up to your clit to lick in slow circles.

He really, really wants to be inside you right now. His dick is throbbing so hard, he’s amazed he hasn’t passed out yet, but Satoru’s always been a man with a sweet tooth. He doesn’t mind setting his needs aside a while longer if it means eating out some pretty pussy.

Maybe not too much longer though.

His fingers join between your legs, still slick from your saliva and arousal, and slip easily into your cunt. Making you cum is easy for him, his fingers thrust deep with each lazy roll of his wrist, stimulating that spot inside you with ease. Though, he can tell you're craving more of a stretch, so Satoru, being the chivalrous, generous, oh-so-kind man that he is, gives you a third finger.

Your jaw drops at the intrusion, pussy now spread wide to accommodate the stretch of three fingers as they curl and stroke your sensitive walls, drawing out more wetness and arousal until it drips down his wrist in clear drops.

Satoru knows you're close when you let out a particularly desperate moan, your hips stuttering and walls fluttering so perfectly on his fingers, clit pulsing against his tongue.

"Satoru, I'm–" you warn, trying to keep your voice low.

"I know, baby," he coos in encouragement. "Feels so good, doesn't it? Go ahead, pretty baby. Cum on my tongue if you need to."

You don't need any further coaxing. When you cum, you cum hard, hand smacking over your mouth to muffle your cries as Satoru keeps fucking you through your orgasm, fingers thrusting and tongue lapping up every drop of arousal your sensitive pussy drools out, just for him.

He rests his head on your inner thigh, watching fondly as you come down from your high. His fingers still thrust into you but his pace has slowed significantly, working you through it until your walls stop contracting. Your arousal coats his entire hand when it withdraws from your cunt, even pooling on the couch beneath you. It'll be a bitch to clean, but Satoru can't bring himself to care about that now. His dick might explode if it's not buried in your cunt in the next thirty seconds.

Even as you lay there, chest heaving, you still crave more. Your hands are greedy, grabbing at Satoru while he makes his way up and eases you back against the couch.

“Easy there, tiger,” he chuckles, hooking his fingers into your soaked panties and peeling them down your legs. "Let's take these off you first."

Your panties are discarded somewhere – probably his pocket, that pervert – before Satoru goes in for another kiss, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. One hand rests beside your head, supporting his weight. The other reaches down and palms his dick through his pants. "You need my dick that badly? Hm? Turn around."

You oblige, rolling over to lay on your stomach and pretending the sound of his belt unfastening doesn't make you warm with anticipation. Satoru shifts to straddle your thighs, placing one of the cushions to rest under your hips, keeping you nice and comfortable while also elevating your ass to be closer to his dick. A win-win.

"Shit," he sighs, pulling his dick from his briefs and jerking it slowly, slicking himself up with your wetness. Precum beads at the tip and he rubs it against your folds, mixing your messes. "It's been a while, huh?"

"Satoru," you whine, pushing back against him, wiggling your hips slightly in a silent request for him to quit teasing you and get on with it.

Maybe that makes you greedy. After all, he was just nice enough to let you cum on his fingers and tongue, but you don't care. It doesn't hurt to be selfish every once in a while, especially with Satoru of all people.

When Satoru finally presses the thick head of his dick into you, it feels like you’re being split in two. He's immediately met with resistance, your cunt bearing down, struggling to accommodate it even with all the prep he gave you. So he starts slow and shallow, dragging his heavy dick in and out, bullying your cunt into relaxing and letting more of him fit. He pulls out and taps the head against your entrance again. "Come on, sweetie, open up for me~"

He eases into your cunt again, but this time Satoru leans in, his opposite hand settling on the other side of your head, smothering you with his weight in the best way possible. His body blankets yours, pinning your back under his chest and ass against his hips. His dick pushes into you with more persistence, inch after inch sinking deeper until he's buried to the hilt.

Your eyes roll back, mouth hanging open in a silent scream. You're probably drooling all over his couch, but it's hard to feel shame when he's filling you out so nicely. He's so deep, it's like he's forcing the air out of your lungs and replacing it with his dick.

His lips ghost over your shoulder, kissing it sweetly, then he starts to move. Slow, deep thrusts, only withdrawing an inch before he's chasing that warmth again. He fucks you as hard as he can without being too noisy, limiting the smack of his hips against your ass, even though he really wants to see it bounce from the force of his thrusts. If he could, he’d be making you scream right now, watch some pretty tears stream down your face because of what his dick does to you. Yeah, that would be cute.

Satoru ruts ruthlessly into the tight heat of your cunt, chasing the orgasm he’s needed so fucking desperately. Balls slap against your clit, heavy with all his pent-up release. He takes advantage of your open mouth and forces two fingers inside, pressing down firmly on your tongue and delighting in the way you slobber around them, in the way your cheeks subconsciously hollow and suck them deeper, still tasting your pussy on them.

Sucking on his fingers keeps you quiet, gives you something else to focus on if not the relentless pounding against your cervix, or how close you’re getting to snapping and cumming all over his dick.

“Shit, you’re so perfect,” Satoru huffs against your neck. "I can feel you squeezing me, baby, I know this little pussy wants to cum."

It’s hard to moan his name when his stupidly long fingers are prodding the back of your throat. You’re babbling, crying out for Thatowu to keep fucking you, it feels so good, and he’s grinning like an idiot above you. Yeah, baby? It feels good?

Satoru’s fingers withdraw from your mouth only to snake underneath your body and stake claim on your clit, massaging in slow circles, coaxing you closer to your orgasm. You can’t take it anymore. Your body goes limp, cheek smashed into the cushion, gaping mouth smearing drool all over the fabric while your cunt creams around his dick.

“Shit, that’s it, baby,” Satoru moans, feeling your cunt squeeze around his dick like it's trying to swallow him whole. “Shit, you’re gonna make me cum. Is that what you want, baby? You want me to fill this pussy up?”

You’re too fucked out to answer, but that’s okay, because Satoru wasn’t really asking. More like letting you know he’s seconds away from driving his dick as deep as possible and unloading right against your cervix. God, he’d really like that, but he can't risk having any more rugrats right now. Not when his career as the only sexiest designer sunglasses model in Grimetown is taking off.

Instead, he pulls out of your cunt and manhandles you onto your back, quickly stroking his dick, filling the living room with the lewd sounds of your wetness squelching around him. You're laying there, dazed, legs spread wide and pussy exposed, all swollen and leaky and clenching around the air. The sight of your debauched face sends Satoru over the edge. He releases with a groan, cum splattering on your lower stomach, inner thighs, all over your pussy, before pressing the head right against your clit and letting the rest of his load drip.

You both need a minute after that. Maybe several minutes.

Blood still rushes in your ears when you come to. You push yourself up on shaking arms, Winnie the Pooh-ing it with your tee shirt and lack of panties. You're a mess, all sweaty with his cum painting your lower half, even parts of the couch underneath you. Maybe he'll offer up his shirt as a cumrag so you don't have to do the walk of shame to the bathroom.

You watch Satoru, who is already back to his normal, irritating self, snatch his bag off the side table, already craving a little something sweet. He chomps into the last strawberry daifuku mochi in the packet and you frown.

“Hey, I thought that was for me."

“We can still share,” Satoru teases, waving the mochi-half in your face with a grin.

Huffing, your eyes drop back down to the open bag on his lap and… wait a minute. Has that been here this whole time?

“Satoru, is that your wallet?”

He looks down, a little rice flour on his chin.

“Oh, shit! Where did that come from?”

#mercury writes

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feminismisstillahatemovement · 2 years ago

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This is belated but I remember you was talking in your post where people laughed at men living like shit in empty rooms without decor eating noodles that it is precisely why they need women who would fill the house with life and color and not only the bare essentials, and I remember I even felt better about being a woman because of the way you put women as people who are needed rather than 'servants' or inferior human beings who are only really good for being domestic and being incubators. I am currently watching Star Trek (TOS) and though some things are slightly outdated and every female characters is a Woman(TM) they do the same thing - the narrative portrays women as some sort of queens who are essential for men and who can brighten every single place with their beauty and love for beauty and heal even the most bitter and beaten-up man just with their attention or something.

I've noticed stereotypically feminine traits don't feel THAT bad when they're sold as something men need and can't do very well without than as some liability that makes you as good as a tool or a slave? It is just strange how roughly the same traits are seen as a beautiful gift OR as a weakness depending on how exactly propaganda is twisted. I mean, feminists treat typically female leaning for forgiveness and compassion as liability that just makes them easy prey for abusers and perpetuates the cycle of men "getting away with everything" ffs (still dunno what they'd think of MEN who are too forgiving and compassionate then)

I've said it before, but I think that most of the glue that holds civilization together was evolved by women thousands of years ago while the men were out hunting and building. Throughout history it was taken for granted that women built and maintained homes and communities, extended families and by extension, much of the concept of a tribe and a community.

Then feminism came along and told women they should ignore all the unique and vital female contributions of the past, and only find self-worth through competing against men in wage-slavery. Which leaves us where we are, with three or more generations of broken homes, crying wine aunts, suicidal weekend dads, teen gangs and latchkey kids raised to expect nothing but the same for themselves. There's no-one left doing the job of holding the family/community/tribe together, and caring for and overseeing the wellbeing of everyone.

It's a commonly expressed opinion that a house without women in it - or at least visiting it - doesn't feel like a home. Without a female presence, all-male living spaces have a tendency to turn into frat houses, boot camps and penitentiaries. Men and women are the brothers and sisters of the human race: we are supposed to complement, not compete against, each other. It seems to me obvious that the first step to building or rebuilding community is to acknowledge, openly appreciate and celebrate what each contributes that is of use. And the only way to even get to that first step is for women to widely realize that men were never their enemy, and hence feminism has been lying to them for several generations.

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sniperct · 2 years ago

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I’ve never watched Star Trek. I’m a trans lesbian, big SFF reader, enjoy Star Wars quite a bit with my wife and a kiddos. Where do my wife and I start?

There are a number of different ways you can watch it. If you like a bit of camp with good stories, starting with TOS is never a bad bet. You could also start with Strange New Worlds which is like TOS with more modern progressiveness(but TOS was incredibly progressive and transgressive for its day. We're talking when mini-skirts were so much the height of feminism that the female cast members insisted on it and plots such as 'this alien is half white black and hates the alien who's half black white for looking different and that's bad' among others.

TNG had a rough first season, but there are some gems, 2nd season is better than many people remember and 3rd season onward is generally gold. That's also a good onramp point as they don't lean too heavily into trek nostalgia. DS9 is my favorite trek for a variety of reasons and with both DS9 and Voyager you don't really need too much prior knowledge, they're good at explaining things as they go. DS9 is a direct spin off of TNG so there are some concepts (bajor, the cardassians, sisko's backstory) that spin out of that but they explain that in the first episode. VOY spun out of DS9, the biggest thing being a group called the Maquis, which I don't remember if they fully explain them enough.

Discovery is GREAT, but the first season is heavy and i don't recommend it as a starter series. I also don't recommend Enterprise until you've watched everything (and tbh I don't recommend it at all except for the 2 mirror universe episodes, but a lot of people like the show so more power to them.)

Picard is good once you've watched TNG and the four TNG movies.

There are three cartoons. The Animated Series has terrible animation but there are some amazing episodes with great writing hidden in there. Generally something to try after watching TOS, before the TOS movies. Lower Decks I think is great for newbies but is mostly a love letter to fans and geared for adults. Prodigy would be a good onramp as it does a good job of introducing starfleet and the federation and explaining the ideals of both. Its a bit like the clone wars as an animated show for kids with some deeper themes.

For the most part you can't go wrong starting just about anywhere, but my personal preferred watching order when I do the yearly 'turn on star trek while working' marathon is mostly chronological.

But I really don't suggest watching discovery first, so a good order would be Original series, animated series (okay to skip tbh, the animations is really hard to get through), the first six movies(you could probably skip 5 but then you'd miss a reference in strange new worlds lol), The next generation, the first TNG movie, DS9 seasons 1-4, the second two TNG movies, DS9 seasons 5-7, the last TNG movie, Voyager 1-7, Lower Decks, Prodigy, then skip back to discovery and strange new worlds, then finally finish with Picard.

That said, my gut tells me strange new worlds, TOS or TNG would all be good starting points for you, but I can't recommend DS9 enough once you've dipped your toes in, so maybe even start with that one!

I know this answer sucks but I've been a fan so long I'm not sure I can honestly answer for new people coming in as to what they might or might not like as a starter.

Actually going back to star wars, DS9 is one of the more actiony series, discovery is too, but very heavy first season (all of the new treks make good use of modern effects to give starships the manueverability you'd want/expect, but DS9 is where they started doing that first). Both series explore the darker side of the universe, or rather the more morally grey side, while also willing to embrace the hope and beauty of the universe (discovery especially has that become the main theme of the series. hope, unity, exploration, wonder)

TLDR: there's so many places to start is there anyone who is a newer fan who might have better advice?

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homosexula · 5 months ago

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Baz you are my favorite person now. Star Trek IV is my favorite Star Trek movie, period (of all the ones I've seen, anyway). The Voyage Home is so pure; it's topical without being heavy-handed; it's funny without being too silly (there is, of course, some silliness). It's a perfect movie and has been my favorite Star Trek movie forever.

AWWW 💖💖 its literally sooo good. somehow i accidentally went a few years without watching it so yesterday i started watching the original movie series w my boyfriend who has never seen them before, mostly with the goal of getting to show him TVH. and youre right it has like just the right amount of silliness. it wouldnt be star trek if there werent some silliness accompanied with strong themes that arent silly at all.

TOS and the original movie series are so important to me its like theyre a part of my brain chemistry, and part of me will ALWAYS still be the animal planet kid that i once was, so TVH is basically designed to worm its way into my brain forever — plus i looove an 80s movie with just the right amount of camp. and the fact that leonard nimoy directed it is just the cherry on top 😙👌

#baz.txt #wernerherzoghaircut

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dragon-of-the-night · 1 month ago

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OK, so only six of them are continued from TOS with the original actors playing the original characters, three are "new" (the first one came out in 2009, which I count as new, but I guess they're getting on in years now) films about the TOS characters, but played by different actors and four of them are about the TNG characters (I won't talk about them, because I haven't watched any of them yet). So, the original TOS movies...

Star Trek: The Motion Picture - This is a bit of an odd one - some people like it, some people don't. I wasn't really sure what to make of it when I watched it. The plot is a bit odd, way too many minutes of the film are dedicated to long shots of the Enterprise, which can get a bit boring after a while, and the outfits are weird, to say the least. But overall, I think it's a good film that's underappreciated (and the director's cut is supposed to be better, however, unfortunately I don't own that version and haven't watched it :(). If you want to skip any of the Trek movies, I'd say this is your one to skip, it doesn't really add to the characters or later plots that much (but as a hardcore Trek fan, I think it's worth watching all of them, if anything just to make up your own opinion on the lot :D).

Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan - What most people consider to be the absolute best out of all of them. It's not my favourite, personally, but I understand why it's considered one of the best. For one thing, it brings back an old TOS antagonist and not only that, the actor who originally played him! There's lots of drama in this film and an ending that will leave you shocked, speechless and heartbroken. Definitely worth a watch. If you watch this one, however, it's crucial to watch the next two films, as they make up a sort of trilogy inside the six movies.

Star Trek III: The Search For Spock - My personal favourite of the lot. The emotions in this film are intense and so real you feel them along with the characters (which is perfect for me, as someone who loves angst). The plot isn't nearly as ludicrous as you might think after watching the ending of TWOK - it does actually make some sense. This is also the film that makes me really love Kirk as a character, as I usually prefer the other characters to him. But in this film, Shatner plays him perfectly. Also, Doctor McCoy gets a decent part in this film, which is always a bonus for me, as he's my favourite character ;)

Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home - Goodness, where to start with this one? TVH is the comic relief movie after the intense drama and emotions of TWOK and TSFS. Not only is it hilarious and enjoyable to watch, but it also works climate change and anti-whaling messages into the plot. Basically, the plot is about saving a couple of humpback whales. A perfect movie with zero flaws!

Star Trek V: The Final Frontier - The one everyone hates! The worst Star Trek movie of all time! Ironically, and perhaps unsurprisingly, I love this movie. Sure, it's bad - the plot is awful and there are some terrible writing choices, but it's such a fun movie to watch, I genuinely don't understand the hate it gets! The first time I watched it, I kept waiting for it to get worse, but it just didn't. Perhaps it's because I had already seen the worst bits in edits and a few movies clips, but I just couldn't hate the film. It might also be because I'm a hardcore McSpirk shipper that I love this film - all three main characters get pretty much equal screentime, which makes a very welcome change. We get to see triumvirate go camping, roast marshmallows and sing Row, Row Your Boat together! Kirk nearly dies from falling off a vertical rockface he was climbing for literally no reason! Spock has rocket boots that are never seen again in future films! Scotty and Uhura hook up, which is also never mentioned again! I didn't even hate the character of Sybok as much as I thought I would (although I really wish they hadn't given him that character twist near the beginning - whoever had that idea should have gotten fired). You don't really need to watch this film in terms of plot continuation, but it's a really important piece of Trek history, so in my opinion, it's a must-watch.

Star Trek VI: The Undiscovered Country - This is a film I never really see anyone talk about. I hope you like Klingons, because this one's got lots of them! I kind of have mixed feelings on this film - it's definitely not my favourite, but I in no way think it's a bad film - the tone is pretty melancholy throughout, as they knew it was to be the last TOS film. My favourite part of this film was having Kirk and McCoy stranded together. McCoy was always an underused character even though he was one of the main three and it was nice (as much as I love Spock) not to have the generic Kirk and Spock pairing in all the dangerous situations. You don't really need to watch this one either, but as the very last film with the entire cast of original characters left, I wouldn't skip it, personally.

Star Trek AOS, AKA New Star Trek TOS, AKA JJ Abram's Star Trek - The new-ish movies. I have mixed feelings on these to be honest. There's only three of them currently. I enjoyed them when I watched them, but I have a lot of problems with them collectively. For starters, I didn't find the characters nearly as compelling as the TOS versions. Even in the third film, I didn't really feel like the character relationships had developed properly. They bring back Khan in Star Trek Into Darkness (the second film), but while I like Benedict Cumberbatch overall as an actor, he definitely was not the right person to play Khan. They totally whitewashed a Mexican character. If you skip any Star Trek movies, these are the ones to ignore. They don't really bring anything to the Trek timelines (apart from Leonard Nimoy appearing in two of the films, that was pretty epic).

I hope that my accidental-Star-Trek-essay helped! I personally wouldn't skip any of the films, but if six feels a bit daunting, just prioritise watching TWOK, TSFS and TVH - they're the best and I think the most universally-enjoyed. I hope you have a fun time watching them!

I've finished star trek TOS!!! It was fun, but I think the movies will be better, at least I did until I found out there were like 13 of them! Which ones are good/ important to understand the characters and which ones can I pass? Or are all of them good??

#Kudos if you read all of that #funnily enough you're the third person I have written a Star Trek essay for #I just can't help myself #Star Trek #Star Trek Movies #star trek: the motion picture #Star Trek TMP #Star Trek TOS #star trek ii: the wrath of khan #star trek iii: the search for spock #star trek iv: the voyage home #star trek v: the final frontier #star trek vi: the undiscovered country #star trek into darkness #Star Trek Beyond #Star Trek AOS #movies reviews #My thoughts #reblog

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insomniac-dot-ink · 3 years ago

Text

Headlights Girl

Genre: Urban fantasy + wlw romance

Words: approx. 8k

Summary: The story of a girl with headlamps for eyes and the moth-girl she meets along the way.

My book 🌸 Ko-fi 🌸 Patreon

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Most humans carry the night with them. Even during daylight hours, they can shut out the sun, turn off the light, recede into themselves and into that soft secret place behind their eyes.

Did you know certain animals don’t have eyelids? Gecko’s have nothing between them and the violent sun which wishes to cook the colors of their world. They have to use their tongue. Dust and sand and rain, can you imagine? I was obsessed with lizards as a kid.

I stacked up books on snakes and lizards and skinks. I traced the way that sand snakes crested across the dunes, sideways and wrong. I put glue on the pads of my hand and tried to climb the walls of my room— I didn’t even get one handhold up. I went to the zoo and peered into their cages, up on my tiptoes, trying not to smudge the glass or breath too hard. I tried make out their triangle heads and slow tongue-flicks, but they each shrank away deep into nooks and crannies of their cages. Most things do when I look at them.

Most humans carry the night with them, right there behind their eyelids is an entire world of darkness. I have something else inside me, not quite, not soft, not secret. They called me “headlights girl” in the newspapers.

There were even stranger kids born in the Age of Spirits. I checked. Every morning of fifth grade, I scanned the papers for mentions of “oddities” growing into anomalies.

A boy who could breath fire. A girl with leaves sprouting from her head. A kid with antennae that could taste the wind. There are stranger things than me in the age of beasts and magic. My father called it the “Epoch of Bastards,” sons and daughters of flickering fire elementals and wind ghosts who seduced half-asleep ladies from their beds.

He didn’t look at me much growing up. And I knew what he meant. I knew what he was getting at by calling it the Epoch of Bastards. Growing up, I played in my little puddle of carpet on the floor as he blustered in and out of rooms like gale force winds. He’d be looking for his keys or a left shoe or wallet since he was going out, out, out. I think I missed him at first, in the way you miss strangers you’ve never met.

Later, still on my puddle of carpet, still on my island, I would glare at him with that sour, acid taste in the back of my throat. Acrid, smoky, I would barely blink as he passed; he’d jump when he turned too quickly and accidentally fell into my path. Later still, I would begin to wish they were both like that—blustery and calling people names, gone more often than not.

It sometimes felt better than hearing my mom weep to herself on the couch. I wish she’d do it in her room or outside or anywhere else than that theatrical sobbing in the middle of the house, a naked heartbeat to the place. She spoke to her friends on the phone in that same watery voice, handkerchief in hand and sniffling, she spoke to them more than me.

What else am I supposed to do? This isn’t how it was supposed to be. She’d wail, just a bit, and then find a new thing to wail over. They could barely afford to send me to That School. They could barely afford the special doctor’s appointments for my eyes. They barely knew what to do with me.

Sometimes, I wanted to shout right back: It’s not like I didn’t want to be here either!

But she wasn’t talking to me.

School wasn’t much better. We weren’t the same, not really. None of us were the same age or had the same affliction. Plus, most everyone else stayed in dorms where they bonded with secrets and whispers and hiding from matrons. It wasn’t the same.

They called me The Lighthouse and Car Face and Nightlight. Sometimes they’d give me a few bucks to close my eyes so they could see my face. I did it. They’d laugh and reassure me I was as ugly as you’d think. Or beautiful. Or perfectly average-looking or I had a pig-nose or unibrow. I’d never seen anything but the blinding light of my own eyes in the mirror so I could never contradict them.

A boy with antlers handed me a twenty for a kiss in the 6th grade. I closed my eyes for that too. It was chapped and dry and he ran away with a screaming laugh afterward. There are stranger kids than me, I reminded myself. So why do I feel so much stranger than the rest of them?

I was 16 when I heel-toed my way down the stairs toward the front door. A duffel bag slung over my shoulder stuffed with loose clothes, change, a bath towel, three books with broken spines, all the tampons in the house, and a Swiss-army knife.

I hoped to stuff as many cheddar-cheese sandwiches in my sack as possible before the midnight bus came, but he was at the kitchen table. I don’t think either of us expected it, like running into your teacher at the mart and you’re both buying the same brand of toilet cleaner. There was a beer in front of his idle hands and he still wore his rumpled work shirt. He glanced at the bag on my shoulder for a long minute.

Finally, he sighed like I cut him off in traffic.

“Gimme a moment.”

My father leafed through a wad of cash he kept in a safe. He handed me almost three hundred bucks and we nodded at each other. At the time, I thought there was a kind of satisfaction to that nod, an endnote.

I was out the door before the midnight bus arrived.

Only three people were at the terminal. None of them looked at me with my pack and my knife stuffed in one hand and my eyes glowing. They did look at the glow, but not for long.

Remote and empty like maybe the world had ended and the last bits of if were nothing but strangers not making eye contact.

Finally, I watched the headlights of the midnight bus approach through dense summer night. I was struck by the thought that it was like looking at like, the glow of my eyes against its eyes. Can a bus be your father? Can your father be a man after all this time? Will your mother come looking for you?

I got on the bus and kicked my feet up against the seat in front of me. Scrunched into a ball, crossed my arms over my chest, and watched the trees turn into flickering bodies of shadow with each passing mile. ------------- My feet moved like tides. They tossed me against nameless city streets and toward empty forested slices of land. I stumbled into the painted deserts toward the west. I dipped my toes into the neon districts of the east with lights brighter than my own. I slept on benches and in kid’s treehouses and hunched my shoulders against brick walls of back alleys.

No one touched me. Maybe they’d approach now and then, but I’d open my eyes and they’d see nothing but heaven or devils or an absent lightning-God father that would smite them. I was the daughter of spirits after all.

I found my way to the ocean; beaches where other stragglers gathered and it was easy to stretch out on empty pieces of warm sand. I didn’t talk much by then, I didn’t like to; people stared whether I was speaking or screaming and clamping down on my jaw so hard it ached. Sometimes I get yelled at: Turn that off! No phone lights in here. You’re blinding me, bitch!

I’d never seen a movie in any theatres, but I could imagine what it’s like.

It was crowded, but I liked that ocean city, despite myself. It had pale buildings built into cliffs, narrow winding sidewalks where cars couldn’t fit, reckless bikers, and crushed seashell parking lots. I liked the tang of salt in the air and the way my hair crinkled from the ocean water as it sun-dried. I camp out on beaches and bummed cigarettes and hotdogs off strangers. I was good at taking care of myself once I got into a rhythm.

I had a tent by then and even an enormous sun umbrella to keep any prying eyes away. I still liked to sleep under the stars most nights though.

I often dreamed of sinking to the bottom of the ocean. I dreamed of descending on pointed ballerina-feet to the silted black bottom. I’d be weighted down through the cold and the silence to where no human being had ever been. I’d open my eyes there, open them all the way, lightning-bright, and unflinching. In my dreams, the salt didn’t even sting. I lit up the world, the whole untouched world of whales and fish and terror and maybe I’d do something good then. Maybe I’d do something good and bring the sun to places that had forgotten it.

I hated those dreams.

I met Mags on the beach after one of those dreams. Mags had one eye and twelve teeth and carried around nothing but string and scissors everywhere. She smelled like seawater and burning kelp, dank and crusted over. Her clothes were neat despite her leather-cracked skin and arms and neck covered in tattoos of shipwrecks. We ran into each other at some bum gathering and she cackled and pulled me aside.

“What’s your name?” Her voice was old creaking wood. I didn’t answer. “I could give you one.” She offered with a grin that was more empty space than anything.

“Nana.” I gritted out. “You want something?”

“Not sure. What do you want, kid?”

I glared openly, my beam of light slanting. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Come here.”

I didn’t know why I was chosen.

Mags liked me more than I deserved. I pocketed her last pair of socks when she wasn’t looking. She never mentioned it and dragged me down to the community showers to get clean with soap and shampoo. She took me to the soup and salad restaurant for something that wasn’t burnt or freeze-dried or from a convenience store. She cackled, she spat when she talked, people shot her looks as well.

I thought she was normal, not touched by the spirits, but she liked me more than most people and I didn’t know why.

“You like art, kid?”

I snorted. “No.”

“Why not? You broken?” Yeah. Probably.

“How am I supposed to know?” I snapped back.

“Lippy squirt. Come on, I’ll show you something worth your forked tongue.”

She heated the needle before she used it, red hot and untouchable. She dipped it into deep black inks, only black and sometimes red, she called them the only colors that matter. She shows me how to prick the skin and clean it. She showed me how to slowly, painstakingly etch images. I wasn’t sure I liked it, there was something so permanent and intentional about the act.

I watched her lessons though: stick and poke to her right foot, all over those fine little bones that must hurt, in and out, a little bloody.

It took her six hours to make a tiny shipwreck right above her big toe. It was a narrow schooner going under and I was the only witness. She made the waves come to life and crash against its sides and sometimes I forgot to blink. She didn’t seem to mind.

She washed another needle. She heated it red-hot. She dipped it in ink and handed it to me.

I still wasn’t sure I liked the permanence of it, but I told myself I was bored and it was something to do. I decided quickly I did like the bite of it, I liked the focus it took, and the ability to pull something from nothing.

I practiced all over my thighs first, there was enough meat there and it was easy enough to reach: a lizard design that looked like nothing but squiggles, a TV set playing static, a tiny smudged skink with its tongue out. I practiced designs in the sand and then on paper when Mags splurged on pen and paper.

Mags took me to the museum on Sundays. They were always free on Sundays.

Something stirred in my chest, even as the guards yelled at us about how flash photography wasn’t allowed in the museum. Even as I was shooed out of exhibits for ruining the paint. Still, an ache so old it rotted roared to life in my chest.

I stabbed in and out, gentle, a collection of stars right above my right knee. A winding sand snake on my wrist, and then finally, something good, something that gave people pause and reason to stare. I made it in the mirror: a ghost on my collarbone. Shadowed and intricate and yet simple, I put a ghost right above my collarbone and it bleeds more than any of the others.

That was a good year or so; one of the best I could remember.

I didn’t want to leave the ocean city though and Mags said she had to keep moving. She had places to be. She gave me a sloppy kiss on the cheek.

“You're a gem, kid. You’ll knock ‘em all to the pavement.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat. “You’ll be back?”

She cackled. “Wouldn’t miss it. You know me.” She winked as she turns to the bus, my second father. “You think I’ll miss your great becoming, kid? I’ll be back.”

I wanted to make her pinky-promise like I was a kid again begging one of the others to tell me if I’m beautiful when I close my eyes. I couldn’t do that; I waved as she tottered up the steps of the bus and was taken away with the tides of her own feet.

A had a moment of thinking it was the end then; I was ready to get back to my real normal. I was ready to disappear again. But even shipwrecks with no witnesses leave things left to be found.

------------ I got an apprenticeship. Technically, Mags talked them into it and I just followed up when I had nothing better to do.

I didn’t think I’d like it much, but couch surfing and camping out was the pastime of the especially young. And I’d lost my giant umbrella.

It was a small shop that smelled like bleach and dried flowers. A tattoo parlor in one of the steep arts districts neighbored by food trucks and beaded necklace shops.

Penguin Davies and Bitch-Annie ran it together. Davies walked like he’d never encountered land before, and Bitch-Annie had a throw-pillow embroidered with “If you don’t have anything nice to say then come sit next to me.”

Davies was covered in nothing but birds and dizzying M. C. Escher house-designs up and down his chest and arms. Bitch-Annie had topless mermaids and pinup girls across her shoulders and legs. She’d been asked to leave a number of stores before the children started staring or thinking thoughts.

Neither of them had ever met someone like me. It was not that type of town. I rankled at most their questions, a cat meeting a steel brush. Where are you from? What’s your family name? What kind of school did you go to? Is your sight better than other people you think?

I brushed off anything more personal than my favorite type of soda. Bitch-Annie called me “Shadow” probably as a joke, probably. Davies said I must be possessed by the ghost of some dead star: a blackhole that takes everything in and lets nothing out.

Neither of them let me touch a needle in those first six months. They had me practice on pig skin and trace designs and stand by their shoulders as they worked. I felt like a dental assistant except I was the hanging light shining into open mouths instead of anything with a pulse. I stood at their shoulder as they drew thick lines and thin dots and made hearts and wolves and names of dead lovers come to life.

They asked me to stand still and stop wiggling the light. I almost walked out several to find a new cliff to crash against, almost.

No one had ever expected anything of me before. They never expected me to show up somewhere or do something well. No one really cared if I went to school or if I did my homework, if I dressed well or went to bed on time. And no one kept any tabs on me at all after I took that first bus. That’s how I liked it.

I should’ve left, tattooing didn’t mean anything to me, not really. But Bitch-Annie stomped up to my attic-apartment one morning and threw pants at me.

“Get up, Shadow,” she barked. She was sterner than Mags, no hint of humor in her eyes. “I told you 9am so I expect 9am.”

“The fuck!?” I was eloquent in the mornings.

“Pants, shirt, shoes, and bra if you don’t want that desk idiot staring at something other than your eyes all day.”

“Are you serious?”

“Serious as a root canal. Mags swore up and down about what you. Let’s see some of that, up, up!”

I grumbled. I put on everything but the bra. No one ever expected me to be anywhere before and 9am shouldn’t have even been a concept much less a real thing. I told myself I hated it. I’d leave the next week. Or maybe the week after that or in just one more month. I kept a bus ticket under my pillow but every time the date arrived I shrugged and made myself busy.

There’d be no harm in having a savings too and seeing what all the fuss was about with having a dishwasher and a kitchen.

I wasn’t an artist of course. I didn’t understand what everyone else was seeing when they looked at the “old masters” paintings of water or war or lovers pulled apart. I didn’t feel anything in front of stain-glass windows in churches or mosaics on walls. Maybe there really was something wrong with me, my eyes. I didn’t let up though. I put on pants for it after all.

Penguin Davies hovered by my shoulder when I made my first real design.

“Mm.” He rumbled deep in his chest. He’d gone grey at an early age, had tired eyes and quick hands. The desk kid said he’d been in medical school once, a surgeon. It was hard to tell. Davies muttered a lot, stared off into space too much, and laughed like it was always a painful surprise

“Perfectionist,” he muttered at me as I start over on a crappy unicorn design. “That line was barely off. You’re being a perfectionist, Nana.”

I scowled over my shoulder and let the full weight of my light hit him across the face. “Got a problem with it?” I challenged. He chuckled darkly. His grin was crooked like a broken door handle. I tried to hide my work from him with my shoulder. “It’s not done yet.”

“It’s late.” The rest of the street was dark. I knew that.

“I said I’m not done yet! You can go home.”

“Hmm.” He scratched his grey beard.

“What?”

“Look at you. You know who makes the best artists, Nana?” He was always a bit of a philosopher. Maybe he used to study that before medicine.

“Yeah, yeah, shut up. I’m working on it.”

He gave my shoulder a light push. “The ones that don’t quit.”

They let me touch a needle gun after that. I told myself I’d only sign my new apartment lease as an experiment. I didn’t have to actually stay. I’d just run from the ink on paper and hope no one chased after girls with eyes that glow.

I didn’t break my lease. I drew suns and moons, trees and fireflies, hunks in speedos on tipsy college girls who swore they were sober and erotic vampires on the chests of men getting their first divorce. I had to give two refunds for a duck that turned out lopsided and a tattoo of someone’s dog which I swore really was that ugly to begin with.

There was one at the end of that next year though, another college girl with perfectly white piano-key teeth. She asked for a stick and poke, that was what I was best at anyway, she asked for a butterfly. Butterflies were easy, I could do the little ones in my sleep. She wanted one all across her back, she said I could make it look however I wanted. So I did. Wings like fringed shawls and straight heavy lines combined with wispy swirling ones. It was dark, black ink with red highlights and gray shadows under each wing to give it movement and flight.

I hid my smile when I finished and showed her the results in the mirror. She went to my bosses and jumped up and down. She pointed and babbled, ohmyspirits, the best thing I’ve ever seen! Fuck. I should pay you double! Where did you get this girl?

I held myself perfectly still and studied the ceiling until my eyes dried out.

I took the long way home that night. I stopped once, at the corner where the midnight bus arrived, and watched the the passengers trudge off. I didn’t expect to see Mags again so soon, not really, but sometimes I wanted to show her: Hey, maybe your work wasn’t all wasted. Maybe I did start to become.

---------------- “I’m getting you chocolate.” Annie spat, her thick arms flexing as she cleaned off the spotless counter. “I’m getting you fucking chocolate, Shadow, ‘less you tell me what flavor you actually like.”

I hung at the back of the shop next to the narrow window that faced the road. I let the sun warm my face in thick strips and watched the bicycles pass. “It’s not my birthday.”

“Tell us what your actual birthday is then, you sugar-toasted tart.”

I shrugged. “Not today.”

“Well happy fucking birthday. You’re turning two. You came to work for us two years ago today, washed up from the beach like a deranged feral cat, so this is your birthday now.”

I rolled my eyes which served to look like a flashlight given a shake. Annie spent another minute splashing disinfectant on anything that might have had even a passing conversation with a germ.

“You talk to Birdie?” She asked, but mischievously this time. I responded by setting my mouth in a hard line. “You’re turning twenty-something and you’re not even talking to Birdie, are ya?”

“I’m not telling you what I’m turning. It’s still not my birthday.” I dodged inelegantly.

“Birdie will give you a proper go-around. Even shadows like you must need a little rub now and then.”

“Go dunk your head, Annie.” I huffed.

“Afraid you’ll blind her in bed?”

I turned with a snarl. “I’ll start with you.”

“I’ve seen you flipping through those poetry books, every word about hands or mouths or rosebuds.” She gave me flat a once-over. “You’ve got a sweet tooth in you.”

I dragged myself over to the desk to snarl at her some more, but Annie was already putting her hand up and going toward the backroom.

“I’m getting you a chocolate cake either way.”

There must have been a proper way to get her to never look at my little leather poetry books again, the ones with watermarked pages, the spines broken-in, and words that oozed. No one had to know that I could read, much less that I read that.

The door dinged instead.

“Excuse me.” She walked in. Her. “Is someone, um, named Nana here?” I turned before I could stop myself. That was still my name. And it was still my work.

Twenty-something, curtains of straight black hair falling in her face, pinched nose, thin energetic lips, shorts that gave way to milk-dipped legs that never seemed to end. A slight girl in a university t-shirt. College kids came in often during their breaks, but this one was a bit different. My eyes dragged up and fish-hooked there.

Feathered tendrils sprouted from her head and reached toward the ceiling. Long and searching, a pearly green color that reminded you of leaves or plumage.

I knew within a moment where I’d heard of this: Antennae Girl. The newspapers ran our stories close together along with the boy that breathed fire and the girl with roots growing from her head. We were all born in the same year during the epoch of monsters and bastards.

I think she recognized me too.

We stopped like heartbeats seizing up before the ambulance could make it. A confused, unnatural silence. I glanced at the door and considered making a run for it.

She cleared her throat first.

“Someone said that Misty’s butterfly tattoo came from here?” She blinked once and I noticed how her feathered antennae seemed to twitch. I averted my eyes so I wouldn’t blind her. She took a step forward. “So are you . . . Nana?”

The door was right there.

“What do you want?” I had been spending too much time with Bitch-Annie.

“A tattoo?”

“What kind?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“Then why are you here?” I grunted. Footsteps came in from the back room. I was examining the smudged off-white tiles of the floor one by one.

“I wanted to . . . hey, you can look up if you want.” She said, curiously, softly. I didn’t look up. “I’m still figuring out the design.” She trudged on ahead.

“Fine.” I pivoted away. “But we’re busy. Come back later.”

A hand slapped across my shoulder. “This is Nana.” Annie stopped me from leaving. “Don’t let her eyes fool ya, it’s her personality that’s actually the problem. You saw her butterfly you said?”

“Yes!” She gushed. “It was gorgeous.”

“It was fine,” I corrected.

“It’s her birthday today.” Annie shared because she could and because she was a failed evil villain still trying to get her kicks in.

“Oh cool, happy Birthday.” A deep pause followed that could fill oceans. “You can look up. I don’t mind.” She repeated.

I opened my eyes wide and lifted my chin in one jerky motion. A beam of fluorescent headlights hit her across the face. “Is this what you want?” Venom dripped from my lips. This was why I tried not to talk too much.

The young woman squinted for a moment before covering her eyes and nodding. “I read about you,” she stated as if it was nothing. “I’m turning twenty-two this year . . . so I guess, you are too?”

“What?!” Delight filled Annie’s entire expression. “Hot damn! Twenty-two?” I groaned deeply. “Hey, you, girlie,” she addressed antennae-girl, “you want to come out for drinks tonight?”

I tried to protest as quickly as possible, but somehow didn’t summon the words quickly enough.

“Sure.” She agreed. ----------------------

The night was humid and clung to us like a second skin. I wandered through the hilly streets with Penguin Davies wobbling beside me. The desk kid—Daft Jeff, said Davies had some inner-ear problem that made it hard for him to keep his balance. Annie said he just didn’t belong on land— he couldn’t walk straight unless something was tilting and rolling under his feet.

Davies made his way up the hill, faltering and missing the musical beats of it. He refused to let me steady him and I refused to have him sing to me. It was apparently my birthday.

“Someone saw your design.” He noted on the downhill.

“Yeah. Some college girl.” I grumbled.

“What’d you think?” He asked in his usual mysterious way.

“She just wants a good look.” I returned in a neutral tone. “She read about me in the paper. All she wants to do is look.”

“She saw your design.” He paused. “And Jeff said she was like you.”

I blinked hard so the path ahead was eaten by shadow and Davies stumbled. “Not all of us have to be friends . . .” I said sourly and didn’t fill in the rest. “I’ve met kids with antlers and frog-hands before. I doesn’t mean anything.”

“Any of them come visit?”

“They’re smart enough not to.” I snark. “But the ones who manage to be pretty don’t have the brains to stay away.”

“Mm.” He made a soft sound. “What kind of tattoo do you think she’ll get?”

“How should I know? A heart or anchor or something dumb like that.” I walked on ahead. “Maybe I’ll give her a quote from some dead poet.”

“You like poetry.”

I huff dramatically, “Not what I mean. Girls like her don’t like my type of poetry, you know I’m saying.”

“What kind of girls?” Davies was patient. I hated that about him.

I stopped at the corner to let him catch up. “Don’t play dumb. Hot ones, college ones, getting a degree in money or music. They don’t watch over their shoulders enough or know when to stay away.” I scuffed my shoe on the ground. “Whatever.”

Davies was still thinking. I considered pushing him over. He finally spoke up again as we approach the bar, “That sea witch ever show up again?”

“Mags?” I snorted. “No. Why?”

“Cause I’m sure she’d like to see this.”

I didn’t say anything else as we reached the doorway. -------------------- The bar was loud. More people than I liked came to my “party.” I should have seen it coming. If the cliff city liked one thing it was an excuse to drink.

I crammed myself up against the bar and ordered a gin and tonic before the rest of the night crowd could arrive. Birdy was holding court at a corner table and waving at me. “There she is! Someone put a blanket over Nana, lights out, party up!”

Her puns usually left something to be desired. She sang “Blinded by the Light” every time she saw me for half a year.

I drank half my gin and tonic in the first gulp as a new stream of townies burst in. They arrived to buy me birthday beers and shout their opinions on the shitty new chain restaurant on 3rd street. I was almost tasting the bottom of my second glass when someone tapped on my shoulder.

I barely looked over.

The girl with sheets of black hair and a practiced-appearance stood before me—like she was at dress rehearsal and expected everyone else to know the lines as well. She carried a baby-blue bike helmet in one hand, and I noted there were two hand-drilled holes in the top.

“You.” I was tempted to shake her hand like I might make this a transactional hello and goodbye in short order.

“Hey.” She smiled, hesitant, like maybe the food on the fork might be too hot. “Nana, right?”

“Yep.” I sighed the word real long and heavy. “Listen, I really can’t give you a tattoo if you don’t know what you want.”

“No, no, I get it. But I want you to know . . . I didn’t know it was you.”

“Uh, okay. Though I’m pretty hard to miss over here.” I was looking at the dirty wine bottles stacked near the ceiling. Her antennae hang over both of us like fern fronds.

“No. I mean, when I saw the butterfly. That’s when I wanted to come here. Not after.”

“After what?” I was gonna make her say it.

“After I found that it was, well, you know, Headlights Girl.”

“Mm.” I was spending too much time with Davies. “You want something to drink?”

She sighed as well, real long and heavy. “Sure.” She took the seat next to me. “I’m Park by the way.”

“Park.” I rolled the name around in my mouth. “And you already know me.”

“I don’t think I do.” She laughed, sharp and bristly like something you can get cut on. “And I’ll have a beer. . . but only once you look up. Come on, I’m not like that.” I looked up. Her face was bright, round like the moon, her grin was sneaky and unearned. “There we go.”

She waved over the bartender Kipp and ordered her dark beer.

“It’s not really my birthday.” I informed her, dumbly. Every word felt dumb and clumsy all at once.

“Why not?” She was teasing. I knew that.

“That’s not how birthdays work.” I informed and wished I could backtrack into hostility again.

“Oh darn,” she winked. “And here I was about to make it my birthday too.”

“Uh, well,” I really should have left when I had the chance. “It’s not too late?”

“That’s the spirit!” She laughed, fuller this time and rounded. I looked her straight in the face and then quickly looked away again. Her grin was aimed at me, somehow, and seemed to reach high cupboards inside me you usually needed a stool for.

“Park,” I repeated the name and shifted in place. “So did you go to Haveryards or Simmons?” There were only two schools in the country for spirit bastards like us. Haveryards was close enough for me to get bussed to—an hour one way and then an hour home.

“Neither. I went to public and then Bakerville Uni.” She rapped on the counter. “Hey, you want another gin and tonic? Or I’ll mix you up something.” Her eyes flickered over everything. “I bartended my way through college so I can make a mean margarita.”

“Oh, Bakerville U., yeah. That ones close.” I stuttered a bit. She was leaning across the counter and trying to get Kipp’s attention a second time. My words were feeling dumber and dumber by the moment, perhaps losing all shape and meaning altogether. “That’s where you went?”

“How’d you guess?” She said playfully and pointed to her t-shirt. She finally got the bartender over. “Right, you want something hard? Vodka maybe? A mule?”

I scratched my chin. “ . . . I don’t care. I’m easy.”

She rolled her eyes and I knew she must feel me staring. “I can’t imagine shopping for you for today then.” She snickered and climbed over the counter. “Happy birthday, how about one chocolate mule for a free tattoo?”

“You wish.” I made a face. “You don’t even know what you want.”

“And you do?” She was still grinning, somehow. “I’ve decided I’m making you the equivalent of all the soda flavors mixed together at once. Close your eyes.”

I closed my eyes and I tried to turn off my thoughts. It was bright as knives inside my skull; I carry the daytime with me. Panic threatened to rise up (for no reason of course), but a soft hand brushed against mine, soft like sheets in fancy hotels and flower petals. I peaked and Park slid a full murky glass toward me.

“Drink up.”

It was sweet. It wasn’t even my birthday. I didn’t care. She called it a chocolate-mule-Park Special and maybe chocolate really was my favorite flavor. -------------- Park started coming around. She rode a sky-blue bike with a white basket and rusting hinges. I couldn’t imagine doing all the hills in the city without any gears, but she managed. She said she was figuring things out after graduating. She said she liked it here.

I grumbled when she came by. I complained like Annie when Wicker the cat visited: Get that thing away from me. I hate that. Smells awful. I’ve got allergies. Put that away, it’ll kill me.

I never said anything when Annie left fish heads out and bowls of milk of course.

Park smelled like sunscreen and breath mints. She had strong opinions on everything from street paving techniques to which sun hats went with which dresses. She invited me on walks. She invited me to help her change a flat tire. She invited me to the corner shop to help her pick out bottle can openers.

I said no. Sometimes I said no. I started to say yes.

“Look at this,” she liked to show me things. She liked to show me pictures of squirrels on her phone and weird pieces of glass she found. She liked to point out new restaurants (that I’d already been to) and play videos of funny traffic jams.

This time she held up a seashell. It was rounded and flat with a swirl in the center.

“I’m looking.” I said carefully.

“Watch how it catches light.” I shun my eyes on it and she moved it back and forth. There were bits of silver veins caught in the cracks of it.

“There’s tons of those.” At this point, I had valiantly refused to be impressed by even her cutest squirrel pictures.

“Ugh.” She pouted. “Are you kidding? I spent all morning looking for this.”

“They're right by the surf. I could find you five bigger ones than this before sunset.”

“Alright, hot-shot.” She jut her chin out and jabbed my shoulder. “Prove it.”

I said yes to that one. I left right after my shift ended with the sun setting in the waters like a stabbed orange bleeding out. I met Park by the parking lot with drooping palms trees lining the sides and lost flipflops everywhere.

“This is where you went wrong.” I announced. I couldn’t help it. “This is the tourist beach. You have to go somewhere real.”

“Alright, alright. You’ve already established you’re the hot-shot here. Lead the way.”

She followed me. I ignored how she lingered by my side. I ignored how her hand wrapped around my arm as she stopped us to look at a tiny horseshoe crab. Her hand was soft, like velvet, soft enough to smother something in my chest.

I found two seashells with streaks of silver and rainbow through them, both bigger than my palm. The sun was a flat line on the horizon before I could find a third and Park hooted.

“You said before sunset! It’s sunset, baby, pay up.” She called. “And you were so sure you were a better seashell hunter than me.” She tsked.

I scanned the ground more quickly. “It’s barely nighttime.” I pointed to the sky. “And I can keep looking. I have the built-in equipment for it.”

“Oh I know.” She planted herself on the soggy crusted sand and sat down in a heap. “But can you find why kids love the taste of not doing that? Take it easy. Take a seat.”

“So pushy.”

“You know me.” It was fond. It had only been a few months, but there was something fond there.

I ran a hand through my short choppy curls. “Fine.” I sat next to her, not too close. “It’s your loss.” We both looked out at the gently lapping waves, foaming and anemic. She let a long breath of air and for a moment I considered brushing her hair back. It was always in her face.

It was a quiet moment, bottled, and pitching toward something. Like the the moment where you miss a step on the stairs and the certainty of the fall was right there.

I was the one that scooted a little closer.

“I’m considering getting a storm cloud,” she commented off-handedly. “Can you do storm clouds?”

I made a sound of consideration. “Sure.” I glanced toward the opposite corner of the night sky. “I think I’ve seen one of those before. Big puffy wet things?”

“Kinda fluffy? You’re getting there.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” I’m smiling, which is alright since there’s no way she could see it. She’s silent for another moment longer.

“Or would you make fun of me if I got something like a butterfly? Like your other one.”

“A storm cloud butterfly?”

“No. The cloud would it’s own thing.” She chewed on her bottom lip, ragged and chapped. “I mean, I’ve been doodling some ideas. And tattoos should be personal, right? So I thought a storm cloud might be fitting. Kids used to pay me a couple dollars to predict the weather. It could be a memorial to childhood entrepreneurial spirit.”

I watched her speak and something beat inside my chest like a second animal. I wanted to be closer. I wanted to feel velvet again.

“Why?” I rasped after a moment.

“Uh, why did they pay me? It’s just something I can do. Whenever it's going to rain or storm or be sunny out. I dunno, I don’t know why the rest of you can’t sense it.”

“And you didn’t become a meteorologist?” I smiled a bit bitterly.

She made an indignant noise. “And you didn’t become a professional lighthouse?”

I choked on a laugh. “Not yet.” A quiet consumed us from both sides, I made sure my light didn’t crash into her. I made sure to look at anything but her. She’d have to squint if I did and cover her eyes and I’d be there, ready to run her over.

“Kids in my class paid me too.” I barely realized I started speaking. “They slipped me a couple bucks to close my eyes so they could see my face.”

“You got money for that?”

“There wasn’t always much to do. Teachers were quitting all the time and sometimes it was just the TV. I dunno, they paid me. Then they’d giggle and run away afterward.” My voice sounded automated like the announcer at an airport, informing travelers their flight was canceled. “They always said I had a pig nose or a unibrow or looked like the lead singer of that Minx girl band-- super hot, but you know, it didn’t matter.” The laugh that escaped was high, girlish in a grotesque way. “Since, you know, no one would ever see it.”

“Kids are fucked up.” Park contributed simply.

“Adults are too.” I sniffed. “Everyone wants a light show.”

“Oh.” She said slowly. “Is it . . . is it bad I wanted to meet you then? I mean, I wanted to see the art first, but I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t a factor.”

“No.” I said quickly. I lit up my own lap and empty hands. “Does it matter?”

“I never went to those schools,” she said hesitantly. “My parents fought them, said the schools were unfit. They shouldn’t be able to force us there. And that I wasn’t even dangerous since,” she gestured helplessly upward, “I just have these. So then, well, I never really met anyone else like me.”

“I mean, everyone’s different. It’s not . . . a big deal.”

“You’d think so,” she commented sardonically.

I folded up into myself like a complex origami piece. “Yeah, well, sometimes I wish I was dangerous. Actually dangerous.”

She giggled. “Didn’t you just say everyone’s different? I’d say everyone’s dangerous too. Just gotta find the niche.”

“Oh yeah,” I dared to turn toward her. “What’s yours then?”

“My danger niche? Hmm.” She was leaning now, pitching forward like a wave come to drown me. “I do have a few tricks up my sleeve I’ll admit.”

“You have a pair of wings hidden away?” I stopped breathing as her hand lifted up, strange and all at once. I wasn’t ready.

“Here.” Her skin was against mine. She cupped my cheek with one velvet-hand. It was heated cashmere, tiny feather-light hairs on her palm. “Feelers.” She whispered with a hesitancy there.

“Ah,” I was indulgent. I closed my eyes. I leaned in. “And you want to put a needle over these?” I put my hand over hers, loosely, so she could pull away if she wanted to. Tiny hairs pulsed there with some kind of life all their own.

“I wanted . . .” She paused and I peaked open my eyes. I could see every detail of her face, illuminated. “I dunno.” She finished. “I guess I just wanted whatever I saw there, before.”

“In the butterfly?”

“In the butterfly.” I turned toward the ocean, but my hand remained over hers. “I’m not sure how good it will be a second time. It’s not like I’m really an artist. . .”

“What did you want to be?” Soft.

“Who knows. I mean, I’m glad my parents didn’t try to fight the schools. Being there during the day was better than being home, listening to my mom crying all the time and my father exploding . . . They wouldn’t have wanted me home.”

Before the sunset, when I was walking over, I thought maybe we’d kiss that night. I thought I’d feel that first electric pulse and maybe we’d climb into the ocean and swim in circles, laugh until the moon rose. I thought maybe I’d get something out of my system and there wouldn’t be anything left to say or do.

I’d kiss Park, once, and she’d be satisfied. She’d understand. She’d go on her college path and I’d go on on mine.

But the words spilled out, unbidden. Park stayed in place, steady and unflinching. That made it worse, so much worse.

“My parents weren’t like yours.” There was an accusatory edge to it. Don’t you know? I wanted to shout. Don’t you know? Even without the eyes or the school bills or the bus.

“Hey,” she cradled my cheeks with both hands now and smeared the tears away from one eye. “Hey, listen, I know. Alright? I know.”

I scowled back at her feathered little feelers.

“It’s not about the damn antenna or head beams or anything else.” I tried to pull away. “Even the kid with the antler’s kissed me and I didn’t stop him. I ran away from home and my mom never came looking. It didn’t matter. It doesn’t matter! You wouldn’t even get it. You wouldn’t get it!” I squeeze my eyes closed. “You were wanted.”

Slowly, like an awkward animal burrowing into soft earth, she pressed her forehead to the crook of my neck. I could feel us both breathing in, strong and steady. She was lean and silky, and I swore I can feel her heartbeat hammering through my throat.

“I’m sorry.” She whispered. I inhaled her sunscreen scent. “I shouldn’t have said that. I don’t know. But I could.”

“Why are you here?” It was miserable and wet, I hated that my eyes were so different and yet still the same. Could still spill over like theirs. She took a long breath but didn’t move away.

“My last girlfriend broke up with me for being . . . sensitive and I thought maybe if I got a tattoo, I’d stop feeling so much. I’d prove something. I’d feel everything less, you know? It would hurt and then it wouldn’t.”

I took that in a parsec at time. “Are you,” I sniffed. “Are you alright?” Her legs and arms were plastered over mine. “You’re so soft, but, but I don’t want to,” I wipe at my face like it didn’t matter. “Hurt you.”

“I know.” Her face was still pressed to my neck and her lips fluttered across the hallow of my skin. “I didn’t want to hurt you either.”

A stillness settled into my bones. I glanced toward the moon, and it was like looking at like, a terrible moon to another moon. I gathered myself. I took a deep breath. I flattened.

“I shouldn’t have said all that.” My voice had dried up. “We led different lives.” It wasn’t her fault if she was wanted.

“No.”

“I wasn’t thinking . . .”

Her hand wrapped around my wrist. “I talk to Annie sometimes when you aren’t there.”

“Okay?”

“And Davies. And that front desk guy.”

“Daft Jeff. Yes.”

“They all say the same thing . . .” I blinked a couple times. “That I really should wait for you to give me the tattoo. You have a steady hand and an eye for detail.”

“Alright . . .”

“That someone taught you tattooing the right way. They wanted to show you the right way to do it.”

I snorted despite myself. “It’s not that hard. Mags was batty. Who knows why she showed me how to pick up a needle.”

“Don’t you see? They say they wouldn’t know what to do without you.” She was still there. She wasn’t moving, almost in my lap now. “You were wanted.”

“Park?” My voice cracked like a question.

“And you come with me to restaurants and help me buy bottle openers. You find shells for me and help me fix tires.” Her breath was hot and dragged across my cheek. “You are wanted.”

I blocked out her face, her voice, I turned on the sharp white sun inside and for a moment I imagine never opening my eyes back up again. Maybe I could make it night forever inside myself as well. Wouldn’t you rather have something quiet inside?

She wrapped herself around me, fully, one long arm at a time until it was cocoon. Soft. “Listen, sometimes the first people aren’t the right people. Sometimes your first relationship isn’t the right relationship. Sometimes you’re sure the world is one way, and like, always one way . . . and then it rains and the whole world is different again. You know? People pass.”

“My parents aren’t the weather.”

“But they’ll pass.” I should have pushed her off. But even against that, even those words— I liked being held, indulgent as chocolate and twice as guilty. “People sometimes feel forever, especially those kinds of people.” I was off again. “But it rains. And hey, I always know when it’s going to rain.”

I hiccupped; a smile found its way uninvited onto my face, unsure and just wobbly on its feet as Davies. I glanced down after a deep breath. Park grinned back at me and it reached the highest shelves of me all over again.

“So what happens when it rains again? Do you people like you pass?”

“Nah, not me. I don’t know how.” She winked. I didn’t notice that we’re lying flat now, stars and carpet of black above. “You can’t get rid of me. You haven’t given me that tattoo yet.”

The sound of shushing waves filled the midnight air and the moon looked down like that very first bus arriving to get me all those years ago. I wrapped my arms right back around her. She didn’t seem to mind that I was sticky or strange or sometimes kept tearing up all over again even after we’d stop saying anything worth tearing up over. ------------------

It happened. I felt like I should have been more prepared, brought flowers or poetry or earned it through honored warfare. But it happened. I was wearing ripped jeans, a spotty t-shirt and my breath smelled like coffee. We were looking for Park’s lost earring along an overgrown hill she usually biked along.

I found it, one shiny red dewdrop in all that green. Park pointed at some clouds that looked like my last “abstract” tattoo. We lay back in the grass and let the sky pass overhead. She giggled and touched my wrist, side by side. I let her.

“Summer’s almost over.” I mumbled it first.

“Yeah?”

“You find your next step then, college girl?” I tried to keep my tone light. She turned to be on her side.

“Maybe.”

“What do you want to do?”

“Oh, you know. This and that.”

“That does not sound like a college-girl plan.”

“Maybe I’ve got other plans. Maybe I’ve got other priorities, huh?”

“Ridiculous.” A playfully push her shoulder. “A lousy seaside town really isn’t priority material. There’s only one bookshop you know.”

“Two thank you very much. And that’s not my priority either.” Her voice wavered.

“Are you going to share with the class?”

“Is the class ready?” She whispered and I turned toward her as well now, taking in her perfect round face and question-mark mouth.

“I have been.” I matched her whisper. I tremor from my center outward and hopes she can’t tell.

“Do you know what they say about moths?”

“What?” I gave a breathy laugh. It wasn’t what I was expecting. “I’ve heard of them.”

“They tell your fortune.” She was grinning in that way that put out a stool and reached up. “I used to cry a lot growing up, because some kids said that moths are just evil butterflies. I was sensitive and ran all the way home. I threw myself at my mom’s feet and threw a fit about how moths were just evil butterflies. They were just ugly, wicked versions of a good thing.”

“Evil? Well, I suppose you are rather sinister when you haven’t eaten.”

“Shut up. I’m telling you something.” She put a hand on my shoulder. I inhaled deeply and turned over in place to face her. Only the shallow breeze kept us apart.

“I’m all ears . . . though maybe not as many as you.”

“You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“What can I say? The sun is adorable. I take after him.”

A finger ghosted over my cheek, tracing the arc of my cheekbone. “Well, you’re not so bad behind those headlights too. Some of us have good day vision you know. And good taste.”

I wished those words didn’t make my chest do funny things. “Thanks.”

“Do you want to hear what my mom said or not?”

“That you shouldn’t worry about evil butterflies?” I wiggled closer. “Because you’ll be really hot and funny and smart one day. So who cares if you’re evil?”

“Yeah, those were her exact words.”

“So?”

“So,” a firm hand took my chin. “Look at me.” I looked at her. I was glad she couldn’t see the flush in my cheeks in any way. “Moths show good fortunes she said.”

“Right. Lots and lots of good fortune.” I breathed, dumbly, of course. She was close and sweet and there was hair in her face. The fronds of her antennae tickle right past my ear.

“They can help you find good fortune. They’re good omens. You know why?” Park’s lips were barely moving as she spoke, hypnotic and unhurried.

“Why?”

“Because they follow the light.”

It happened all at once. Like every cheesy love poem or bad lyrics I wrote in my journals at night. It was every cracked-spine of a book using words like “rosebud lips” and every overdone song about people who find their way to each other.

I kissed her, leaning in with no life vest on or readied crash-landing position. She kissed me and my chest filled with her, breathless, drowning, soft as dreams and stranger than hope. I cradled her and she dragged me closer and closer until it was nothing but floods and brimming.

I’d been nothing before I think, I’d been an island that waits, a bus that leaves, a shadow that hides. And then I had been hers. ----------------- I was strolling home from work along the main road. The thin strip of sidewalk was streaked with bleached sunlight and the salt air was thick enough to burn throats. It was the long way home, but I was in the habit of going back to this corner.

The bus pulled up with little ceremony. It was an interstate one that crisscrossed over empty bellies of land. I stopped in place to watch, just in case, as I had many times before.

A silver head bobbed down the steps and planted herself on the concrete, unbelieving. She took an enormous noisy sniff of the air. “Not so bad!” She bellowed.

“Are you?” That wasn’t meant to be my first word. She was more stooped now and wearing shiny things on her wrist that clanked. She’d lost another tooth. “Mags.”

“Eh!” She yelled and waved frantically as if I hadn’t shot up another inch since I last saw her and started wearing clothes without holes in them. Her eyes sparkled as she tottered over. “So how’d you do, kid?”

“See for yourself.” I smiled. It was nice when the tides came back in. Mags gave me a thorough appraising. “Like this I guess.” I held up my hand. I wiggled my ring finger at her, heavy with a silver band and glittering opal.

“That’s my girl! Always knew you’d find your feet.” She cackled. “Am I too late to give you away, kid?”

I shook my head. She waddled over to me so I could take her hand. I took her home to show her my art and new tattoos, I showed her our terrible one-eyed kitten, Basket (Wicker’s son), and the little house we styled ourselves. I showed her our shoe closet and our queen bed, our messy kitchen and busted screen door. I showed her the moth tattoo over my heart, and Park showed her the matching lighthouse one over hers.

I tried to thank her, of course, I tried to say I owed her more than she knew for picking up an angry, dirty kid and seeing something in her. I owed her everything. But she just patted my hand and said that it’s not about our debts in life, kid. It’s about the becoming.

-----------

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faeriekit · 3 years ago

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I don't think Luke was ever into Annabeth in the way that people seem to be implying. Not sexually or romantically.

Let me explain.

From the very beginning of the camp arc of the first book, we get the perspective that although Annabeth clearly likes Luke, he doesn’t reciprocate, finds her young and thinks of her as a little sister etc. etc. Despite the grossness he displayed over the five books, I don't think Luke ever had any romantic or sexual interest in her-- because I think that any playing into "a possible relationship" was the tactical understanding that 1) she was emotionally attached to him 2) he could use that and 3) Kronos's army needed more bodies. Luke is, and always has been, characterized as a liar, willing to go all the way for his goals, and willing to throw literally any middle schooler on his sword in order to reach victory. Annabeth was just a girl who had accidentally shown him her weakness. Luke was never going to let that go without prodding at it.

See: “Hey, come hold up the sky for me, thank you!”

And if Luke actually cared for her (which is really a question of “can your abuser ever really love you” and I’m not going to play that game with no prizes), playing into Annabeth’s childhood crush on him would help him too, because in theory, everything he was doing was for the three of them-- to remedy the source of Luke's failed quest, of Thalia's treeification, and of Annabeth's early emotional abuse from her mortal parents. Playing into Annabeth's crush on him was a shitty move no matter how you cut it, but I think it was genuinely just politics on his part.

Now. Does this make him a good person? No I actually think this makes him way worse in a different way lmao, and probably toed the line on emotional abuse in a lot of different ways. (Alongside murder. Remember, he murdered people.) I just don’t think he was into a kid in the way that people seem to be implying.

Anyway I’m raising funds for the Annabeth Chase therapy fund: for just four dollars a day, maybe one day she will recover from 1) being born into an emotionally neglectful household 2) her brief childhood on the streets 3) watching her foster sister “die” in front of her 4) being betrayed by her only surviving found family member (who definitely set her up to die!) and 5) surviving two different apocalypse level battles as well as 5) tartarus. 🙃

#also the second i see Luke do anything moderately weird or creepy in the show I will want to kill him dead #pjo #luke castellan #percy jackson #this one's not Anakin Complex'd this time

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cavehags · 3 years ago

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How would you recommend a beginner get into Star Trek?

first of all, that's very cool and sexy of you. up top, i will note that right now, only the next generation and deep space 9 are streaming on netflix in the united states, and the rest of the series are only on paramount plus. if all you have is netflix and you're choosing between those two shows to start with, i simply must recommend DS9 because a) i loved it and b) i never watched the entirety of TNG (though it's on my list). however, if you are open to the whole wide world of trek, then i'd say pick your poison depending on what you're into! here are my elevator pitches for each of the series that i've seen.

if you like homoerotic madness, philosophy, and CAMP, then go ahead and give the original series (1966-1969) a spin. TOS is the first of the series that i watched and i had a blast. it's short, it's strictly episodic, it's about an aging 2/3 jewish throuple that bickers to show their love, and most importantly, it's a gateway to watching star trek the voyage home, which is one of the greatest movies of all time. but you can't skip right to it! 😩 continuity demands that you have to start with the show. if you are someone who thinks you would someday enjoy watching a film about a ship of aging homosexuals time-traveling back to the 1980s to liberate two whales from the san francisco aquarium so that space doesn't explode, then you should start with the original series, and grit your teeth through the misogynist bits so you can get to cinematic heaven.

if you like mysteries, kate mulgrew, developing AIs and a serialized quest narrative, try star trek voyager (1995-2001). the only one of the series (i've seen) with a series-long narrative, voyager is about a ship that gets trapped so far out in space that the crew may never make it home or communicate with their families again. this adds a tension to the show that keeps things moving; they're constantly scrambling for shortcuts and there are times when things get quite dark. it lacks TOS's retro drawbacks and offers a slightly more modern charm. i think it's a good series to start with! kate mulgrew heads this one up as the dykey and stressed-out captain who's also very horny, but in a professional way. various kinds of robofuckers are also welcome here.

if you like intricate politics and homoerotic adventures, try star trek deep space 9 (1993-1999). probably the best and most ambitious of the series, ds9 is about themes like faith, disillusionment, fatherhood, radical action, having a kind of gay friendship with an old queen who lies compulsively, trans women who go on tumblr, trans women who don't go on tumblr because they're too busy having sex with their trans boyfriends, and the moral virtues of socialism. it's also about various types of jewish stereotypes 🖖. i loved deep space 9 a lot but it took me like four years to watch because its increasingly complex serialized plot demands attention in a way that the most retro trek properties generally don't. but that's not a bug, that's a feature, and it's certainly more in line with modern sci-fi like the expanse than any other trek you'll find. i highly recommend it.

if you like fast-paced action with questionable logic and nonthreatening men, start with the reboot movies (2009, 2013, 2016). controversial take but they're what got me into the franchise in the first place and cured my depression so despite their overwhelming misogyny i have a soft spot in my heart for them. when people say "reboot movies," they're referring to star trek (2009), star trek into darkness (2013) 💩, and star trek beyond (2016). the emphasis on action is closer to a contemporary big budget movie in tone than the more peaceful and cerebral spirit of star trek, but the movies do a good job creating weirdly deep relationships between the characters, something you get less of the further back in time you go and the more episodic the series become. you will also get a sense of how starfleet operates which will help you jump from there to another series. if you watch TOS i do recommend watching the reboot movies next because they fold together into a love story.

if you like tight, in-the-know comedy and have already watched one or two other series, do yourself a favor and watch star trek lower decks (2020-). it's lovingly written by devoted fans and just packed full of references to the other shows and self-aware inversions of the classic trek formulas, so it's best enjoyed if you wait till you've watched at least one of the classic series before you give it a shot. very very genre-savvy little show. the art style is not what i'd call pretty, but it's worth it for the joy that the comedy brings. it's a show that will cockily take a very long walk to set up a joke and the punchline is always worth it. and beckett mariner is one of the best protagonists ever and i love her dearly. she's this hot shit wannabe rebel who is in fact brilliant and loyal and more of a hero than she's ready to admit. love that bitch.

if you don't want to bother with watching six or more seasons and you just want to dip your toe in, star trek prodigy (2021-) is designed to be a gateway series, and it has a lot of charm. prodigy is the newest entry into trek. aimed at kids, it tells the story of a boy and his friends after they break out of a prison camp and steal a starfleet ship to see the universe in. it is very much a kids' show, with all the heavy-handedness you'd expect (an obvious Villain, a blunt will-they-won't-they, various characters whose job in the narrative is to be Funny or Cute), but it also has real charm, and the protagonist's uncertain path toward becoming a good leader has really hooked me. there are only like five episodes out now and while it's not trek at its best, it's certainly a snapshot of the series' values and aesthetics that i think paints it in a positive light.

i cannot recommend watching star trek discovery (2017-) because it sucks absolute ass. i am currently watching it because tig notaro and the trans teens got me good, but i really don't think anyone else should. and as stated above, i've never seen the next generation (1987-1994) all the way through, i have zero interest in picard (2020-), and i've never seen a single second of enterprise (2001-2005) or the animated series (1973-1975). so that's my list!

#star trek

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poutyyybangtan · 4 years ago

Text

ready or not - j.jk

genre: friends to lovers, enemy to lovers, (almost a slow burn?), a mix of everything lol character pairing: jeon jungkook 9bts) x female oc warnings: not really any lol just angsty fluff kinda stuff word count: 5.4k (it’s alot) authors note: i wrote this months ago and it’s not finished but i can finish it if yall want? let me know :)

______

(prompts from @im-here-to-help-you-all-write)

“i think the longer you look at it, the worse it gets.” “yeah, kinda like your face.”

“i need your help.” “holy shit, i never thought i’d hear you say that.’ “please don’t rub it in right now.”

“i don’t feel like i’m ready for this yet” “you’re going to have to be, because we’re out of time.”

you can’t believe you actually had to do this. the last person you ever wanted to look at was your only shot at getting out of the situation you brought upon yourself. you had originally counted on one of your other friends to help you out, but of course, life never seemed to work out the way you wanted it to.

“jin, please. can’t you just cancel and come with me?” you begged, watching as your older companion continued to chop away at some vegetables.

“you know i would love to help bamboozle your family with my impeccable acting skills, but unfortunately, i do have a business to run. this weekend is a big deal for the restaurant and joon would kill me if i left him alone to handle such a thing. and besides, we all know joon can’t toast bread without having to call the fire department first,” jin laughs. you laugh softly, knowing jin had a point. poor namjoon had amazing business skills, but unfortunately that means he lacks in the cooking department.

“i guess you’re right,” you mumble begrudgingly.

“why not ask jimin if he can go?” jin asks, sliding the chopped vegetables into a pot.

“my mom knows him, she’ll know something isn’t right. and besides, he and hobi are going to a dance camp for school,” you shrug.

“and tae? yoongi?” jin asks.

“he’s got that test retake for his photography class and yoongs has an audition for an entertainment company in gangnam,” you sigh. you’re really proud of all your friends and the successes they have, but you really wished they could’ve helped you in your time of need. but you couldn’t be that selfish, so maybe you had to admit defeat.

“you know, you could just ask jungkook,” jin asks nonchalantly.

“you know i can’t do that,” you answer bluntly, refusing to even entertain the idea.

“i mean, you could,” jin laughs, putting the lid on the pot and onto the stove top, turning to you afterwards.

“jin, you know i can’t. he is the last person on earth i would ask to help me. i would rather die of embarrassment than to ask him for his help,” you dramatically claim.

“you just might if you don’t ask. besides, what's the big deal? it’s only for a weekend,” jin shrugs.

“yeah, a whole weekend of him pretending to be my boyfriend. jin, we can barely tolerate each other as is, having us cooped up together and pretending like we actually like each other is a whole other ball game,” you said.

“well, here’s the way i look at it. either you tell your mother that you don’t have a boyfriend and face embarrassment at your mother's wedding, or you can suck it up, ask jungkook nicely to do you this one favor, and have fun this weekend. you never know, jungkook might actually be up for it,” jin says, an underlying suggestive tone in his voice; one that you never caught.

you had to admit, jin was right. as painful as it was, jungkook was your only chance at escaping this nightmarish weekend.

you found jungkook in his usual zone of comfort: with his lips attached to some random girl he probably barely knew. you found yourself scrunching your face in distaste. such a vulgar display in a library no less. you huffed off your second doubts and approached the table with confidence. you noticed that neither party acknowledged your presence, so you knocked on the table to gain their attention. reluctantly, the girl pulled away first to throw you a bitter look.

“jeon, can we talk?” you say softly, not trying to cause a disturbance.

“i’m kind of busy, can’t it wait?” jungkook asks, a smug look on his face, the girl sat next to him donned a complacent smile on hers.

“please, i saw you making out with some bimbo blonde yesterday, i’m sure you can find some other toy to play with when we’re done,” you smirk, watching the look on the girls face fall with every passing word that escaped your lips. she glanced over at jungkook with disgust before grabbing her belongings and walking away in a fit.

“great, well there goes my whole afternoon,” jungkook scoffs. he leans into his chair, folding his arms over his chest.

“you’ll deal. look, i need your help,” you admit, much to your dismay.

“holy shit, i never thought i’d hear you say that,” jungkook laughs ironically.

“please don’t rub it in right now,” you groan.

“how can i offer my service to you?” jungkook smirks, looking up at your obviously irritated figure.

“i need... i can’t believe i’m saying this. i need you to be my boyfriend for the weekend,” you spit out.

“you what?” jungkook asks incredulously. you don’t blame him for his confusion. what you were asking was heinous, add to the fact that you two barely tolerated each other? it was the biggest taboo situation you could’ve put yourself in. but you were desperate.

your mother, as loving as she was, was relentless. she just wanted the best for you. you were about to graduate college soon, about to get a real career and be a real adult. and to her, that meant start a family as soon as possible. and that couldn’t happen without being in a relationship first. and what better way than to hook your daughter up at a gathering for family friends? cause nothing says love like a wedding, right?

“what’s in it for me?” jungkook asks. you looked at him in disbelief.

“wait, you’re actually considering it?” you asked.

“well, you gave me a proposition, so why not?” jungkook asks.

“uh, because we’re not necessarily friends? it’s not like you owe me anything to even consider the idea,” you chuckle.

“you might not be my friend, but that doesn’t mean i’m not yours,” jungkook shrugs, finally standing up and collecting his scattered books. you hadn’t actually noticed them before, you just thought that the library was a good place for jungkook to hook up, not an actual study zone.

“well, uh, what do you have in mind?” you asked, answering his question finally.

“i need a date for this work thing, and my usual hookups aren't going to cut it. they’re not exactly what you would say… modest?” jungkook jokes, causing you to laugh a little bit.

“sound like a deal?” jungkook asks after a moment of silence passes. you pretend to consider his proposition, as if you actually had a choice. you look up at him and you can see that he saw that too.

“what kind of work thing?”

“where are you going?” jimin asks, watching you step out of your bedroom clad in a cocktail dress. you really would’ve rather been at your shared apartment, cuddled up next to jimin and tae watching some horror film eating greasy food, but alas, you had to uphold your end of the bargain.

“remember i told you that in order for jungkook to uphold his end, i have to uphold mine? apparently, he works at some magazine company and they’re having a company gathering to celebrate the issue's 90th anniversary and he needed me to come with,” you groan, strapping on your heels.

“you’re going all out for this,” taehyung comments, a teasing tone hidden in his words. you looked up and glared at him, knowing what he meant.

“if i put forth 100%, maybe he will too,” you say.

“oh, he most definitely will be putting in 100% effort,” jimin says, low enough for only taehyung to hear which makes him giggle. you look up and see jimin smirking at you which makes you groan internally.

suddenly, the doorbell rings and you thank whatever being there is that saves you from the conversation that was happening, with or without your participation. you pull the door open and the first thing you see is jungkook, properly dressed head to toe. you notice the bow tie pressed snuggly against his neck, not a wrinkle in his suit jacket or his dress shirt. his long hair was parted down the middle, brushed out out of his eye. you hated to admit it, but he looked breathtakingly beautiful.

“wow,” jungkook finally says, eyeing you in a way that made the blood pool in your cheeks.

“uh, yeah. let’s- let’s go,” you murmur, noticing the boys in the living room giggling at your guys’ interaction. you shove him in his chest. he grabs your hands and laughs, pulling you out the door.

“what did i miss?” jungkook asks. you roll your eyes, noticing the way jungkook held onto your hand, even after you got further and further away from your apartment, but not minding the warmth his hand provided against your cold one.

“trust me, nothing you want to hear, and nothing i’m willing to repeat,” you scoff.

jungkook was right. he had warned you beforehand that everyone at his job was stuck up and snobbish and would continuously point out that fact that you were no model. and like he had forewarned, all you heard all night was “you’re too pretty not to be a model” or “jungkook ended up with you?” you were appalled, sure, but you didn’t take their words to heart. you don’t know these people, and after tonight, you’re never going to see them again.

but jungkook flinched every time someone opened their mouth. he felt bad for you, but when he saw you delicately handle the situation, he knew you would be fine. still, it didn’t make him feel any less bad.

“we can leave whenever you want, you know?” jungkook whispers into your ear. you look up at him and smile.

“sounds like you’re using me as an excuse to ditch this snooze fest,” you giggle. jungkook smiles back down at you and laughs with you.

“busted,” he finally says.

“thank god, let’s ditch these runway wannabes and get some pizza. i’m starved,” you groan, looking away, missing the endearing glance he tosses your way. you both ditch the stuffy building, and headed to a late night pizza shop down the corner. you sigh in relief once you step into the restaurant, inhaling the smell of cheese and dough. you both decide to seat yourselves in a booth in the corner of the dining area. once you both place your orders, you settle into a comfortable silence.

“so, what caused you to conjure up this boyfriend lie?” jungkook asked after awhile.

“my mom thinks that i need to be in a relationship to be happy since i’m getting ready to enter the real world,” you sigh, rolling your eyes and leaning into your elbows that rested on the table.

“thats stupid,” jungkook scoffs, leaning into the booth. you were caught off guard by this, expecting jungkook to somewhat agree with your mother.

“you look surprised,” he says, gauging your reaction.

“i kind of am. not gonna lie, i was expecting you to agree with her,” you say, shrugging. the waiter brings your slices and leaves you two alone, settling back into the conversation.

“no way. if you want to be single, you should. i’m sure you’re single by choice anyways,” jungkook says, picking up his pizza and taking a huge bite of it.

“what do you mean?” you ask him, slightly confused behind the intentions of his sentence.

“i just mean that you’re insanely smart, funny and talented. and you’re extremely beautiful. if you wanted any guy, you could have him,” jungkook shrugs, munching on his pizza in peace. meanwhile, his statement sent you into a frenzy. who knew jeon jungkook thought so highly of you. you were under the impression that he dispised your entire being. he never really complimented you before, so his statement shocked you.

“never knew you thought so highly of me,” you said, smiling to yourself. you can’t really explain it and you don’t know why, but knowing how jungkook truly felt about you made you extremely happy.

“there’s a lot you don’t now about me,” he winks, causing you to roll your eyes and eat your pizza. and yet again, you missed the way jungkook smiled at you, enjoying your presence more than he would care to admit to.

“i don’t feel like i’m ready for this yet,” you murmur, feeling your hands start to shake as you stood outside the venue.

“you’re going to have to be, because we’re out of time,” jungkook smiles, taking hold of your hand and waltzing you two into the building. your mom had asked you to come early for a surprise so you decided to give her a surprise of your own.

“jungkook, maybe we should say you caught food poisoning and we had to leave,” you murmured as jungkook continued to drag you further and further into the building. jungkook smiled at your child-like nature and shook his head.

“we’ve come too far to give up now. let’s just rock this and get home,” he says, smiling at you. you felt a sudden urge of confidence that surges through you and gives you enough momentum to swing open the doors of the chapel hall. you were taken aback by the way the chairs are decorated with white pieces, hanging off the backs. you take notice of the pale yellow and white combo that you didn’t think would match so well. you felt happy for your mom and that she met someone who loved her so much that they were willing to do this for her to cherish the day.

“it’s beautiful,” you gape, admiring all the minute details your mother probably agonized over. jungkook admired the astonished look on your face as you practically ignored his presence to take in your surroundings. he always found you beautiful, but watching you be you while nobody was looking was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. jungkook had the biggest crush on you for as long as he could remember. and he refused to even fathom the thought of confessing to you when he knew how you felt. he knew you couldn’t stand his lifestyle, his choices that he’s made regrettably. but how else was he supposed to cope with the fact with the one person he’s allowed to steal his heart hates him.

“ah, there you are,” a voice says from behind you two. you both turn around and you see your mom, hair curlers and full glam.

“hi mama,” you smile, running up to her and giving her a big hug.

“hi sweet pea,” your mama coos, swaying you both back and forth. you pull back and look behind you to see jeon smiling at the interaction. this made your heart jump for a split second before you returned back to your surroundings.

“ma, this is my boyfriend, jeon jungkook,” you smile.

“oh my, you’re so handsome,” your mother gushes, rushing up to him and pulling him into a hug.

“thank you,” jungkook smiles, blushing slightly. you’ve never seen jeon blush before and to see him in a such a fragile state made you happy. and you couldn’t seem to figure out why. your mom finally released jeon from her clutches and she turned back to you.

“hun, i’ve got a surprise for you. follow me,” she says, grabbing yours and jeon’s hands dragging you to what you assumed was the dressing room. there were two dresses that were covered hanging off of a clothing rack. your mom shoves you guys onto a couch and rushes over to the dresses.

“one of these beauties will be yours to wear for the wedding because… hon, will you be my maid of honor?” your mother asks, eyes full of stars that made your heart swell. you felt the air leave your lungs and your heart begin to race. you remember watching your mom struggle with love all her life, her face in a frown always. you’ve never seen your mom so happy now, and you would do anything just to see her happy.

“ma, are you serious?” you ask, wanting to be sure this is what she really wanted.

“of course baby,” she smiles. you jump up and hug her tightly, muttering a yes into her hair. you both squeal with delight, jumping in place like teenage girls. suddenly, another pair of arms are wrapped around you, chest pressed against your back. you managed to look up and see jungkook bouncing with you and your mom.

“i wanted to join too,” jungkook says, his voice high pitched and filled with excitement which in response, made you giggle. you all finally stop bouncing and jungkook pulls you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you, catching you off guard. you felt your heart race and you swore his heartbeat matched yours. you brushed it off as it being the sudden activity you all had just endured.

“i’ll leave you two alone so you can try the dresses,” your mother says after she catches her breath, winking at you.

“you’re just gonna let your daughter get undressed in front of her boyfriend alone?” you ask incredulously.

“hon, he’s your boyfriend. i’m sure he’s seen more,” she giggles, exiting the room, leaving you with your jaw wide open.

“can you believe this?” you ask, shocked at your mothers bold statement.

“i’ve always wondered where you get your vulgarity from,” jungkook teases, his chest causing a vibration that you felt in your back, reminding you of your close, read as nonexistent, proximity. you push yourself away and whip around to face him, catching a glimpse of him trying to fight the smile that tried its best to take place on his delicate features.

“i’m not vulgar and you’re not watching me change. however, i do need an opinion on the dresses, so i guess you can stay,” you say, walking past him to try on the dresses. you snatch both of them of the rack and head into the bathroom, changing into dress number one.

at first you thought it was a joke, the frills and exotic colors making your eyes hurt from how loud it was. you tried it on anyway, and you couldn’t believe how ridiculous you looked. no way your mother was being serious when she picked this dress out. you unlocked the bathroom door and stopped your way to where jungkook was sitting on the couch, playing on his phone. you clear your throat to capture his attention and you nearly explode with the laughter with the way his eyes widen and face drops.

“what do you think?” you ask him, twirling around in the godforsaken dress you know your mother probably bought as a joke.

“i think the longer you look at it, the worse it gets,” jungkook says, a dumbfounded look on his face. you withhold your laughter and stare at him in distaste.

“yeah like your face,” you scoff, playing with the dress as if you actually admired it.

“are you gonna wear that?” he asks, secretly hoping you’d say no so he could release a breathe he didn’t know he was holding.

“well, i like it, don’t you?” you say, continuing to pretend like you actually were considering wearing this deafening dress.

“uh.. if you like it then… sure,” jungkook says, shifting in his seat. you admired the fact that he was trying to cater to your feelings and for some reason it made your heart race at the thought. you don’t know whats been going on with you lately but every kind gesture has made your heart race with excitement. you didn’t know when it happened, but you started looking at jungkook as more and it scared you. you couldn’t be with him. you knew that. jungkook had a reputation, and he was proud of it. he was proud of the amount of women he could pull in one night. hell, in one hour. he was used to the idea that feelings were a concept he wasn’t willing to understand or try out. and you had to accept that.

“i’m messing with you gukkie. my mom probably bought this as a gag, the real dress is still in its cover,” you say laughing at jungkooks face that was contorted into one of discomfort. you leave him to relish in your teasing as you retreat back to the bathroom to change into the actual dress. you could still hear jungkook laugh to himself as you unzipped the dress to change into the other one. little did you know, he was laughing to himself about the nickname you gave him. he’s never had a nickname he actually enjoyed before. he was still lost in the thought of you calling him gukkie forever when you finally exited the bathroom.

he always thought those scenes in cheesy rom-com teen films where the guy is staring at the girl like she’s the only one that matters was cliche. but he was wrong. so very wrong. watching you in the tight floor length pale yellow dress that just made you glow knocked all the air out of his lungs. you’re hair that was in a messy ponytail allowed some pieces of hair to frame your face as you continued to fumble with the dress.

“it’s a little longer than i thought, but it fits well, yeah?” you say, still looking down at the gown. you honestly felt ridiculous. you rarely dress up like this. you hid your body underneath baggy clothing so to have something so tightly pressed against your body made you severely insecure. the silence coming from jungkook made everything worse. you looked up to see jungkook leaning forward, elbows resting on his thighs, hands holding his head up. there was a look in his eye you had never seen before and it made your stomach churn with excitement.

“that bad huh?” you joke, hoping to ease some of the tension that was building in the room. jungkook stands to his feet and approaches you, his body so close to yours you could feel the heat radiating off of his body.

“you look beautiful,” jungkook says, smiling down at you. you feel yourself blush and begin to fumble with your fingers, a nervous tic jungkook found absolutely adorable. jungkook was helplessly in love with you, this much he knew. from the way you laughed, to the way you rolled your eyes in his presence. he loved the way you gave yourself wholly to the ones you cared about, willing and able to do any and everything for the people you love. he loved the way you strived to work hard and how incredibly intelligent you were. and suddenly, his heart was full with all the love he was dying to give you, but know he never could. because you deserved much more than some player who was willing to sleep with anything with legs. but if he could at least pretend like the love between you two was real, even if for a short while, he’ll take it. as desperate as he was, he wanted to know what it felt like to have you love him back. even if he knew it was all pretend.

“jungkook, i can’t thank you enough for doing this. i know you would rather be in some girls bed trying to figure out a way to sneak out without her noticing, but i’m glad you’re here… with me,” you smile, hands gripping his bicep’s to keep him close. his cologne was hypnotizing, causing you to pull him closer and closer.

“there’s no place i would rather be,” jungkook said honestly, placing his hands onto your waist, allowing you to lean in.

“you don’t mean that,” you scoff, smiling and rolling your eyes, getting ready to pull yourself back from a dangerous territory. jungkook stops this from happening, wrapping his arm around you til your pressed flush against his body.

“you have no idea how bad i want you. all of you. mind, body and soul. but for right now, for the sake of our friendship and the momentum its growing, i will take you in whatever way you will allow me to have,” jungkooks says, forehead pressed against yours as he wills himself to hold back from pressing his lips against yours and taking you on the small couch in the dressing room. the words jungkook spoke so honestly made you shake from it’s intensity.

“jungkook i--”

“how’d the dress fit?” you mother asks, barging into the room. you and jungkook scramble apart from one another, him taking seat on the couch and you standing in front of him. you mother misses the way you two seemed highly unfocused and nervous as she coos over how adorable you look in the right dress.

“you need to finish getting your hair and makeup done, so scooch along so me and your beautiful boyfriend can get to know each other,” your mother says shoving you out of the room and directing you to where the other bridesmaids were getting their hair and makeup done. it wasn’t until you were sat in the chair that you realized.. your mother and jungkook were alone. oh boy.

you never felt so girly in your life. your hair was curled and put up in a half up half down situation, your makeup light and barely noticeable, but enough to tell you were wearing it. this wasn’t you, you didn’t like wearing makeup mainly because at the end of the day you forget to take it off and causes acne. you were working part time and went to school full time so you always left your hair in a ponytail or a bun. this look was new for you and you were kind of excited yet nervous for jungkook’s reaction.

you surprised yourself with the thought, not really caring about jungkook’s opinions before, but now it was all you could think of, and that scared you. you knew this was just a favor he was owing to you, but he was really going above and beyond and it warmed your heart. but you had to remind yourself that you were just friends, nothing more. hell, you were barely friends. had it not been for you incessant need to prove yourself to your mom, you two would’ve never even became cordial with one another.

you brush these thoughts aside, trying to manifest positive vibes for such a joyous occasion. you leave the dressing room, filled with chatter, in search of jungkook who may be suffering your mother’s constant conversation. you return back to the room you first were in when you arrived, catching your mother exiting the room.

“you didn’t scare him off, did you?” you tease, hugging your mom.

“honey, you look beautiful!,” your mom gushes, taking in the sight of her daughter. you smile and thank her, happy that she was happy.

“is he still in there?” you ask, nodding towards the door she came out of. she giggled and placed her hands on your shoulder.

“he is, and he is absolutely in love with you,” she smiles, causing you to furrow your eyebrows.

“what do you mean?” you ask, your heart starting to race.

“the way he talks about you, the way his eyes gleam with love with the mere thought of you. hunny, this man is undoubtedly in love with you,” she smiles. you couldn’t believe what you were hearing, there was no way that jeon jungkook, the university playboy, is in love with you. you two barely conversed without an argument taking place. you doubt he knew anything about you, despite you two running in the same circles. sure, you knew a lot about him, just because your friends talked about him a lot and it was hard not to listen to sometimes.

“you’re crazy ma. you need to finish getting ready, the weddings going to start soon,” you laugh, trying to brush off the conversation.

“jungkook is in there getting ready, one of robert’s groomsmen caught food poisoning so he’s gonna walk down the aisle with your cousin, sam,” she said, rushing off to get ready, leaving you no room to reply. this wasn’t what he signed up for and you felt bad, so you went into the room to check on him. you caught him standing in front of the vanity, trying to finish off his tie. you had seen jungkook dressed up before, but there was something different about this time. you felt something more for him, and honestly, you always have. but his reputation…

“looking sharp,” you smile, looking up at him. his eyes meet yours in the mirror and he smiles, and this time you see it. the love your mother was talking about.

“you look beautiful, as usual,” he says, his charm peeking through. you scoff at his comment, walking up to him. you seemed small compared to him, and it was kind of an odd sight for you. you leaned your head against his shoulder, just staring at him staring at you through the mirror.

“something on your mind?” he asks, noticing how lost in thought you were. you focus in on him and the surroundings around you.

“my ma said something interesting earlier that’s got me thinking is all,” you say, hoping he wouldn’t press the issue much further. you didn’t want to make the air awkward or uncomfortable by trying to involve feelings, but a big part of you want to know how he feels from his own lips.

“what did she say?” he asked, his nerves jumping. he didn’t say anything wrong did he? he tried to be as cordial and respectful as possible, wanting your mother to like him. if things were to happen in the future, he didn’t want to be on bad terms with your mother.

“she said… she said that you love me?” you murmur, you heart caught in your throat now that the truth was out there and you can’t take it back. jungkook froze, caught off guard by your confession. he wanted to play it off like it wasn’t true, that your mother was delusional. but he knew the truth. and he knew that you also knew it too. he wanted you. he’s always wanted you. and now, he’s presented with the opportunity to have you in any way he wants and he can’t make the move to move forward.

“is it true?” you ask, trying to get a clear and concise answer. you’re not sure what’s going to happen, regardless of what his answer is, but the anxiety of not knowing is starting to kill you. you shouldn’t be forcing him to confess, but now that it was out there in the air, you couldn’t take it back. maybe you should tell him?

“if you’re not comfortable talking about it it’s o--”

“i love you,” he blurts, interrupting you. you pick your head up off of his shoulder and now you’re standing side by side, staring at him through the vanity mirror. you’re frozen, unsure of what to do now. you didn’t actually think he was going to say it. you thought your mother was pulling your leg. but she didn’t know that you two weren’t actually a couple and maybe that’s why you had hoped what she said was true.

“did you hear me?” he asks, voice laced with nerves. he couldn’t even begin to explain the amount of fear and vulnerability he was feeling at the moment. he meant it. he loved you. but why should you believe him. he was a playboy, and though you may never understand his reasons as to why he tried so hard to escape you by sleeping with other people, he wanted nothing more for you to believe him now.

“i did,” you whisper, afraid that the sound of your beating heart was louder than the words you spoke. you wanted him, god you wanted him, but you were scared that his words were from false bravado. a heat of the moment feeling that was fleeting.

“i know you might not believe me, and you have every right not to. but i love you with my entire being and.. it’s scary,” he chuckles, trying to explain his emotions to the only person he’s ever been vulnerable with.

“and like i told you earlier, for the sake of us finally gaining friendship, i will play it to your pace and whenever you’re ready, let me know. because i’ll be here,” he smiles. he turns to you, leaning down and placing a gentle kiss to your cheek before walking out of the room, leaving you confused as to what the hell just happened.

_______

an: part two? let me know :)

#jeonjungkook #jeonjeongguk #jungkook scenarios #jeongguk #jungkook #bts scenarios #enemies to lovers #friends to lovers #slow burn #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #bts scenario #kpop scenarios #bangtan boys scenarios #kpop

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achliegh · 4 years ago

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Golden

Yeehaw Leo… it's all because this song came on one day (I don’t even really listen to country anymore so it really is fate). Leo is based off that song, each chapter is going to be based off a yeehaw song too.

@clearsuitcasecookienerd helped me out with this one!

For some background:

Leo is a bull rider as a side hustle.

His parents breed Tennessee Walking Horses ($$$$$)

His father died when he was 16 so he dropped out of school to help his mother and cousins run the ranch.

During the winter The Ranch hands take over the Ranch so Leo and his Mother can go visit family all over the country. During the Summer Leo and his cousins handle the ranch.

TW/CW: Smut, terrible yeehaw sayings and jokes, injuries, mentions of past death, minor character death, underage drinking, mentions of past arrests, cringe

Prologue:

Save a Horse Ride a Cowboy

And James was thrown off the mechanical bull for the third time! It seems as though no one on the team could stay on that thing long enough to win the prize of a free beer tab. Finn and Logan were standing hip to hip, forearms resting on the short fence surrounding the mechanical bull in this crowded bar. They were passing a cigarette back and forth as they made fun of Thomas and James as they rode this ferocious animal on the beginner setting.

They just got done for the day at a training camp designed to make them more agile on the ice, only the wingers and centers were there. It was being put on at the old professional hockey rink in New Orleans so it can get some use. The only reason why they choose this hick bar is because it was close to the rink and apparently LGBTQ+ friendly because some kid comes here and gets in fights with people who are homophobic.

A true hero.

Finn and Logan have been friend with benefits since college, did they plan to fuck again tonight? Yee-haw! They both had feelings for each other but refused to admit them because that's the one thing you aren’t supposed to do in a friends with benefits situation. Not fall in love. Everyone knew they were completely head over heels for each other but everyone also knew something was missing for them to be able to work. Usually they only talked about their feelings when they were angry.

Everyone in the bar was friendly, all locals too, so they would tell fun stories about what has gone down in this bar. Two names that would come up frequently and always together were, Leo and Clayton. Apparently, they are best friends and the most beloved frequenters of the bar. Yes, they were undersage. Yes, they did like to fight. No, no one snitches on them. Yes, Leo is a gay boy and Clayton is a Bi boy and they ran this town.

Both are apparently from very rich old parents who only ever had one child, so they treated each other like brothers. No one messed with them. Don't forget they know how to have a good time. Finn had squished his hand into Logan's back pocket while they listened to the local next to them at the fence talk about the two boys.

Then the double wood door to the bar was slammed open, two very tall specimens sauntered in, there was whooping and hollering as they walked past people. Tipping hats and throwing winks. The local leaned over and whispered to Finn and Logan who took a glance at the door and then back at the bull tossing their friends like a fucking salad.

“Speak of the devils.” Logan's attention was brought to the two men when they hopped over the fence to help James stand back up and dust him off. Cracking jokes with him, while the other went to the machine panel to change the setting. Logan took in their appearances.

The one with James had caramel toned skin with black coily hair under a dirty baseball cap. He was very well built and looked like his muscles were made of rock, Logan guessed he was around the same height as Finn. He was wearing a black shirt with the sleeve cut off low enough to show off his abdomen. He had on some dark dusty jeans and brown square toes boots, looks like he just got off work somewhere dusty. The man looked up to check out the crowd of newbies to the bar and Logan took note of his dark dark brown eyes, which landed on him and he saw the man smirk a little before leaning over to James to ask for the names of Finn and Logan. Rolling his eyes a little he decided to look at the other man.

Oh my.

Logan felt like he had been punched in the gut, this man had soft blonde curls wrapping around the rim of his old baseball cap that's backwards on his head. He was also tan but looked more golden like he was tanned under the sun. He couldn’t see his face from under the man's hat but he could see his hard muscles from under his incredibly tight tank top. He too was wearing jeans and square toed boots. Logan could tell this guy was taller than the other and he just wanted him. The veins in his arms and the strength of his hands made his grip tighten on his drink. He knew Finn was looking to by the way he could feel his hand flexing on his ass.

There was a song playing in the background that portrayed exactly how they felt.

“SAVE A HORSE RIDE A COWBOY!” The bar cheered as the blonde boy swung his leg on the bull and grabbed the handle, nodding at his friend. The bull started thrashing around and all Finn and Logan could focus on was the way this guy isolated his body so the top half of him barely moved while his hips rotated with the machine, smoothly. As the bull got faster the tighter the guy gripped the handle the more veins showed in his arms. Logan took a drink while Finn took a drag.

When the man was finally flung off, he had won what Thomas and James were trying so desperately trying to win. When the man stood up he was right in front of Logan and Finn. Logan just about spit out his drink when he saw this man's face. Like it was chiseled from fucking god, dimples, electric blue eyes that shot electricity to their groins, sculpted eyebrows and a scar on bridge of his nose. He smiled and his teeth were perfect beside a chip on his left front tooth.

They had to have him. After hours of teasing looks and sexy line dances, which was a sentence Finn swore he would never say, they finally got this angel of a cowboy into their hotel room. His name was Leo, and god damn was he packing.

He was fucking into Logan as the smaller man fingered Finn open and sucked him off at the same time, Leo shifted a little to hit Logan's prostate, a loud moan was heard from around Finn’s cock. Logan pulled off of Finn and Pushed back on Leo like he couldn’t help it, catching Leo by surprise and asking him to pull out. Leo did because he was a literal angel.

Leo sat back on his heels and smoothed his hands over Logan's hips with a worried look in his eyes. “Did I hurt you? Are you okay?” His voice was heavy with lust and worry, that thick southern accent caused the other two to groan.

“Don’t you remember what song was playing when we first saw you?” Logan and Finn were now on their knees facing each other but looking at Leo with hungry eyes. Leo looked down as he thought for a moment, then it dawned on him. He looked up at them and smiled a little shy, he was about to say something but he was pushed back to lay down. He shuffles a little to get more comfortable, Finn and Logan both mentioned that they were switches so he had no clue what to expect when two extremely sex hockey players asked him into their bed. Clayton was jealous.

He groans as he feels Finn grind back onto his cock, he looks up at the red head and smiles Finn is definitely enjoying himself. Leo placed his hands on Finn’s hips to help him sink down on his cock, furrowing his brows he tries his best not to fuck up into Finn as he gets used to Leo. Which they did mention Finn hasn’t bottomed in a while but he really wanted to with Leo and that made him feel special. Leo opens his eyes from when he scrunched them shut to control himself, he sees Logan watching Finn and stroking himself. An idea comes onto Leo’s head, tapping on Logan's arm he wraps his hand around his bicep and pulls him over to him.

“How about you ride my face, sugarbug? Hmm?” Leo is pulled into an intense kiss as Finn finally sets a comfortable pace of fucking himself down on Leo. Logan maneuvers himself so he is straddling Leo’s face and facing Finn.

Leo grabs Logan's hips to pull him down on his face, nipping lightly at his rim he smirks at the shiver he feels from Logan, hearing the smacking of kisses he knows they are desperately close already. Leo starts working Logan open with his tongue as he plants his heels on the bed and fucks up into Finn. The boys are moaning his name loud enough he bets the people in the room next to them are hearing everything. Leo is getting close and he knows Logan is barely holding on, plunging his middle finger and tongue into his smaller lover, hitting his prostate head on, he feels Logan clench around him as a wet heat is felt on his chest.

Logan Moans out Leo’s name and then Finn’s as he pulls the red head into a sloppy kiss as Leo keeps his rhythm with Finn, fucking him steady and deep. Finn changes the rhythm and starts moving faster, desperate for that release. Logan reaches between them and starts to jerk Finn off in time with his thrusts, after a few strokes he feels Finn spilling into his hand. Leo groans and bites down on Logan's left booty cheek as he muffles his moan when he releases into the condom he's wearing. Resting his head back on the pillow he feels logan crawl off him.

Finn pulled off him and collapsed onto Leo’s chest with an oof. Leo chuckles and runs his hands through Finn’s hair, mesmerized by the red flowing through hands. He just wanted to hold these boys close and relax, which he hasn’t done in a while. Kissing the top of Finn’s head he hears a cute whimper from the man on top of him. Hiding his laugh in his hair Leo looks up at Logan who wanders back into the room with a warm washcloth. He slaps Finn’s ass causing the man to jolt and glare at Logan.

“Excuse you, I was being snuggled by a hot cowboy who just fucked the life out of me.” Leo laughs as Finn rolls off him, Logan tries to hide his smile but fails as he wipes the other two down. Hopping on top of them and wiggling his way between them and smiles.

“Well I want to cuddle the hot cowboy who just ate my soul out of my ass.” Leo laughs again and shakes his head wrapping his arms around bothering them.

“Shh! I want to silently cuddle with two hockey players who I just had the most intense orgasm with!” They all laugh and fall into comfortable silence with comforting touches and caresses until they fall asleep.

When Finn and Logan woke up in the morning Leo was already dressed and writing his number on the notepad next to Logan’s phone. He turns to look back at the bed and smiles when he sees the boys both sleepily reach for him. He crawls on the bed still having not put on his boots yet and gives them both a sweet kiss goodbye.

“Text me or call me anytime you want to talk.” He whispers to them as he pushes some hair out of Logan's face and rests his forehead on Finn’s cheek. He crawls away shoving his boots on and walking out the door. Morning chores need to be done.

They all felt it when Leo left, cold.

#leo knut #logan tremblay #finn o'hara #james potter #thomas walker #Clayton Bruss #o'knutzy #o’knutzy #lumosinlove #sweater weather #coast to coast

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fairytsuk1 · 4 years ago

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sweet japan breeze | (f)

pairing: izuku midoriya x reader

genre: fluff

words: 3.2k

summary:

Midoriya grins as he traces the soft bridge of your nose, immediately looking away when you turn.

"Is there something on my face?"

"No! No, not at all."

Just the lack of a kiss, is all.

Sweat soaks through your white collared shirt and a string of curses towards the Department of Rare-Quirked Animals goes with it. Gracing you with a uniform more befitting of a tennis player, you grumble noisily. The net handle nearly slips out of your slick hands until you fumble and hold it with a grip that turns your palms white. You can see Midoriya’s green hair appear in your field of vision. He’s trying to act as if he isn’t squinting and analyzing your every behavior, but he is. The look makes you feel like you’re the rare-quirked animal.

“...What,” you squint back at him, squaring your shoulders to face him head on, “are you looking at?”

“What?! Sorry, were you concentrating? You just looked really stressed so I thought you might want a snack,” Midoriya whips his head left and right before sheepishly smiling at you, “I think we’re off trail anyways, my bad!”

You can’t find it in yourself to be annoyed with him, he’s been your partner since you first joined the DORQA. Your head aches at the thought of the insufferable acronym. If you had to see one more poster promoting their stupid monogram, you might need to be locked up.

But him. Your partner Izuku Midoriya...he always had a gleam in his emerald eyes no matter the job, and he always regarded you with a warm smile! He was the epitome of warmth and sunshine, your heart twinged at the thought of you ruining that with your sourpuss attitude.

Your hand brushes his as you take the protein bar, Midoriya’s face lighting up into beautiful shades of salmon. His back straightens and the apples of his cheeks lift. He’s so inexperienced that it’s funny to watch. He was also definitely a people-pleaser; normally you’d poke fun of him but you were too exhausted to do anything but munch on the almond-chocolate bar.

“I’m gonna radio back to headquarters so we can go back to our tent and get some dinner.”

He pulls his radio out and extends the antenna before turning away to call. A realization dawns on you whilst scanning the clear sky. It’s been four days and the white speckled fox was nowhere to be found. There hadn’t even been droppings or footprints; classifying it as extinct would make your life a lot easier but would lead to repercussions in Aizawa’s office. Aizawa...well, you didn’t want to know what would happen if you even dared to think about it.

There was absolutely no way you were going to let him call headquarters and let them know you’d failed on the excursion you begged to go on. It was just plain humiliating; the thought of Bakugou’s smug grin made you want to strangle someone. Bakugou wasn’t even here!

Midoriya had been moments away from speaking until a big fat finger slammed onto the hang-up button. Your foot beat on the ground, aura reeking of stubbornness. Midoriya cried out and turned to remedy the building lecture he was going to receive from Aizawa. You were quicker than him, swiping like a cat and jerking the phone from his grasp. The device cascaded into soft dirt and was nearly squashed under steel-toed boots.

“No way are we telling headquarters we haven’t found that damn fox yet, we’ll be here till we die as far as I’m concerned,”

“But I feel like we’re getting burnt out! Aizawa will understand!”

A loud sigh rings out as you press your palm to your forehead, squeezing your eyes shut as an attempt to calm down. “Understand my ass!” Retrieving his phone, you toss it to the boy and he lets out a sigh of relief.

“Let’s just go back to camp, okay? I can sway you with more food, can’t I?”

Your cheek twitches with the urge to smile as your eyes roll, settling on him dramatically. You cross your arms, he wasn’t going to win this battle.

“You think I’m gonna listen to you?”

“No, but I think I’m the more responsible one out of the two of us so I should at least try!”

Your shoulders drop as your jaw opens, a gasp of disbelief coming from your lips. If it had been anyone else, you would’ve screamed about the toxicity in the workplace as you stomped to Toshinori’s office. But in this moment, all you could feel was warmth washing over you. Embarrassment, you were responsible!

“I can be very responsible for your information, write that down in your little notebook!”

Picking up the forgotten net with a harrumph, you stomp your shoe to kick off dirt before walking away. Only two steps ahead, your body quickly turns around adorning the smile of someone who was losing their mind.

“You may be more responsible, but I’m more determined! I’m finding that fucking fox and you can come with me or not!”

You secretly pray he won’t report this, the termination letter left on your desk would be the final straw, your new life beginning by moving countries away and living within a secluded cabin. A strand of hair falls into your face and frustration explodes out of you with ascream. Shaking your hair out before tying it back up, Midoriya’s lips are strawberry and swollen at that point. With the way he’s biting them; they’ll turn into a pretty cherry red soon.

He shakes his head too, clearing the budding laugh in his lungs. He might’ve even looked a bit beautiful had he not been laughing at you.

He was such a nerd.

“Of course I’m coming, what kind of partner would I be if I didn’t? Besides, you need someone to keep you from losing your mind,” he settles his net on his back (firmly strapped in, he would never let you forget that important tip.) You find yourself looking away. Your eyes tug at the wants of your consciousness, desperate to admire the way his forearm flexed when adjusting his belt.

“Did you know this fox is patient and a hard-worker? Looks like you two are total opposites.”

You don’t miss the subtle dig and there’s a bruise to your ego with the way he smirks at you. Retaliation comes easy when your arms swing to capture his head in your net, a proud grin covering up the hearty laugh.

“Whoops! Looks like I caught a total dork in the wild, how’d that happen?”

His voice feels like the sunshine shining on your skin as he shakes his hair out, fluffy with his sweat gleaming under the rays. You only had a few hours left till you were blinded, only able to see his freckles in the shadow of an orange fire. The cool air that would breeze through as the two of you sat in silence, tension soon replacing the chilling wind. You slept in separate tents, professionalism was still a thing.

But you did wonder how it would feel to cuddle up under his arm and stare at the tent ceiling together. Maybe even the sky on a grassy patch in the summer. You envied your daydreams.

Every once in a while, Midoriya’s tracker beeped to remind you of where you are (well, not really, it was so you didn’t die out in the middle of nowhere) which knocks you completely out of your haze. There was no red, white, speckles, or fox anywhere. Anger courses through you at the thought of having to return back to camp empty-handed; your shoes stomping harder into mud. You rub your eyes before taking a deep breath, ready to zero in on the next nearby animal.

“We should probably go back soon, I think I might run out of water unless we find a stream but then…”

Your partner’s voice fades into obscurity when you see it, a flash of white in the corner of your eye. So fast you might have almost missed it if it weren’t for your keen senses. You could practically hear the crunching of leaves as it ran behind a bush.

In that moment it would’ve been much better to yell shhh and come at it with an element of your surprise. Your mind blanks, legs springing into action with a fierce jump. Your vocal chords could only make out one word.

“FOX!”

Both bodies soar through the air, Midoriya following your lead as you crash through the bush. Bramble sticks you in your side and your eyes shut to embrace the impact your elbows, your whole body really, were about to receive. Wind knocks out of you as you grin once you can feel yourself fully settled on the ground.

“I got you, you little…” your eyes open. You blink once, twice, you even squeeze them a bit, “...bastard.”

There is no fox, even the trees have gone silent. The pinecone with white sparkles on it sits perched perfectly on its bottom, it’s mocking you. Surely.

“That’s—”

“I know what it is, Midoriya.”

Shivers run across his skin at your cold throaty voice. Your head plunks into the ground, you lay there for a bit. It hurts so bad, if only the Earth could crack open and swallow you whole. Maybe falling into the Earth’s crust wasn’t so bad, burning to death must be colder than the shame that courses through your veins.

You can practically taste it in your saliva.

How was it possible to have made this...this rookie mistake?

“I want to die, Midoriya.”

He shushes you and lays a warm, large hand between your shoulder blades to comfort you. He winces when the shirt drags across your skin due to the moisture soaked through it.

Gross. He opts for patting your back lightly.

“It’s alright, we all make mistakes.”

“I’m considering quitting the field. How much do accountants make?”

You can hear the smile in his voice, “an actual accountant? Or is that a metaphor for something else?” He’s holding back his laugh, snorts coming out every few seconds.

Your head shoots up to give him an incredulous look, you didn’t even think he knew about that type of stuff. Let alone have the bravery to say it, your mouth opens and closes as you scramble to find something to say.

“You’re a pervert!”

His laugh echoes in your ears again like before, your own sounding out at the absolute ridiculousness of it all. Leaping towards a pinecone and now lying with a mud stain on your pristine white shirt. Things could not have gone any worse with this type of turn around. Maybe this was the good ending.

Midoriya’s hand reaches to his pocket, digging out his tracker and standing from his squat.

“Ready to go eat some nice soup from a can?”

You snort and push yourself up, kicking the pinecone with the remnants of your anger before turning to him, “soup in a can?”

“It’s all we have…” he trails off and fiddles with his tracker, “soup. Soup is all we have…”

“Yeah, you said that. What’s up? Don’t tell me...did Aizawa find out I did that?! Did you leave your radio on?” you reach towards your pocket and pull your radio out, “did I?...”

The incessant beeping you were used to hearing was silent now. When Midoriya sheepishly looks at you, flashing the dark screen of his device you think you might try to find the nearest cliff.

“Oh wow, oh great. That’s just, it broke? Like just now, it decided to fucking break?”

Rapid nods in quick succession.

“Okay. This isn’t a joke or anything right?”

“No. It is broken and you left yours.”

You spend a few minutes screaming with a stick in your mouth at the sky, the makeshift gag effective at silencing you but the rage still swirls like a storm inside you as you pace incessantly. Midoriya sits on a log, trying to radio in or charge the tracker with sun power (“it doesn’t have that capability!”) but it’s a lost cause.

You’re stuck in the forest.

“Fuck! ”

It’s not long before you’ve given up hope. You’re going to die out here to some sort of animal that will eat the meat off your bones like a plate of ribs.

“Midoriya, I feel like we’re walking in circles. I’m also going to starve to death so we should call it quits.”

“I didn’t know you were so weak! I told you we should've gone back earlier, but you’re stubborn!”

He’s mildly irritated, you can tell by the way his jaw clenches while he looks rapidly for a familiar landmark. You feel bad, you didn’t mean to be so rude. He was way more put together than you were, you needed him.

Your eyes search the surroundings, looking for something to possibly cheer him up. “Berries!” Your hand leaves the back of his shirt and you miss his disappointed frown from the disappearance of your warmth.

“We can eat these, maybe there’s hope after all.”

These are poisonous, you learn this within the first few days. If there was one thing Midoriya liked, it was teaching. You were sure if he weren’t here, he’d be helping some little kid realize their dreams of working in the safari.

“Well, aren’t those like-the poisonous ones?! Don’t put anything in your mouth!” He grabs the bush branch and shakes it away from you, the berries falling with little thumps on the ground.

You grin.

“I must be going crazy, we have got to find a way home before I mistake you for a nice piece of broccoli.”

“Shush. Look, remember when I went to pee? I found a water source.”

You blink, a dead look in your face.

“Listen, I may think you’re attractive but I’m not drinking your pee.”

He scrambles for words and shakes his head with wide eyes.

“Attractive?! I was just-there was a stream so I took the time to purify it!”

“Oh! Well, I just thought you were taking a shit.”

“You’re being inappropriate!”

Had someone been listening in, all they would be able to hear were the pleads from a male and the wonderful laugh of his partner.

Midoriya always felt golden light flow through his chest when you were around. The trail you two were on continued downhill, a man-made path making itself known once the two of you kicked astrew leaves away, it was mutually agreed to head downhill as you (possibly) recalled going uphill to get where you were in the first place.

The stars were beginning to rear their pretty heads, speckling in and out of the sky and it left a heavy feeling in your chest. You didn’t want something to happen to either of you, unconsciously clinging to Midoriya harder, you sighed shakily.

“I was joking before, but I'm actually getting a little nervous.”

You admire his freckled jawline, illuminated by the lantern he’d broken out. He gives you a quick side glance, searching for a trick being placed before nodding.

“Me too. I’m really sorry about the tracker, I should’ve charged it!”

A huff escapes you from the way he was so utterly wrong, you were the one mistaking pinecones for foxes and being ridiculous.

“No way! I was the one being immature, I’m sorry about that one. We should’ve gone back like you said.”

His shoulders square a bit more, your frame shrinking in tandem. You two were like two animals, one protecting the other with its teeth bared and stance wide.

“You’re...You’re really the reason I’m here.”

“What?”

A beat of silence passes through the both of you, your lips ruby red from the way you gnawed on them with your anxiety chilling you.

“I just mean, you’re the reason I joined. You were so little, prattling on and on...It inspired me too. I probably wouldn’t have been able to get here if it wasn’t for you.”

He’s a bit shocked, half his face is lit and you can tell he doesn’t know what to say. His mouth opens and he can’t even resist the ear to ear grin making its way to imprint his feature.

“I-I mean...well! I’m glad,” he takes a deep breath, “I have to tell you something.”

Midoriya’s hands clench at his side, dripping with sweat as you look at him with big eyes, eagerly anticipating his anecdote.

You watch as if it’s slow motion, he takes a breath and the ghost of a word escapes him but the sound of a tiny scream beats him to the finish line. You’re sure he said something, but your eyes flit past his shoulder, lower, to stare dead in the eyes of a white speckled fox.

The two of you stare in a locked gaze as it’s tail swishes back and forth. You don’t even breath, blood rushing in your ears.

“You motherfucker.”

“Huh?”

You bound past Midoriya, heels digging so hard into the ground that dirt flies up in a cloud. It was like you nearly disappeared.

“The fox Midoriya, the fox!” you cry, “I need you!”

He wasn’t sure if it was the fact he’d confessed and your selective hearing had kicked in, or the fact that it was his job. He didn’t know what made him feel so happy, maybe it was the part of you saying you needed him.

A phrase so simple that struck him in the heart. His feet dashed behind you, lantern outstretched as he cried for you, “I’m coming!”

It was like life or death, but it wasn’t. Why did everything feel so emotionally charged? Your thighs ached and the threat of collapsing was gaining on you.

It hit you though, jumping from rock to rock, that red tailing practically swishing in your face.

“I like you. More than partners, like! I want us to, you know, date and stuff.”

It was totally jerky and awkward, but the words registered in your mind when the fox darted into its burrow. You pause, careful to not ruin it’s precious home. Midoriya comes barreling beside you, barely even panting while a stitch in your side wrecks your lungs.

“Did you get it?!”

“You like me?”

Midoriya gives you an incredulous look, “you’re asking that after we just ran all the way here?!”

“It has a family.”

He sighs a loud breath and squats, “yeah. It does.”

You stare at the opening and listen to the soft squeaks in the nighttime air.

“I like you too.”

His head snaps up, voice wavering while you two share an interlocked gaze.

“Really?”

A familiar smirk quirks up, “duh. What kind of a girl follows a boy into the same field if she doesn't like him?”

Oh! He supposed it should’ve been more obvious when it was worded like that. You plop down next to him, leaning fully against him.

“We can’t capture her. She is a mother.”

“I’m glad we agree.”

The stars shine the brightest at this moment, you can’t exactly see his freckles the way you could before but you know they’re still there.

“The moon looks beautiful tonight.”

“I’m glad I could share it with you.”

A soft nudge is given to your shoulder, “I didn’t know you were such a romantic.”

You snort and let your head hang. Midoriya resists the urge to kiss you right then and there.

“I don’t know, I guess foxes just do it for me.”

A wordless hum reverberates through his chest, shifting to wrap an arm around you. The moment’s sweet.

“So, how are we going to get back home?”

“I have no idea.”

#izuku x you #izuku midoriya x reader #midoriya izuku x reader #midoriya x reader #bnha x reader #boku no hero x reader #my hero academia x reader #mha x reader #izuku midoriya fluff

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crystalas · 3 years ago

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Shadow puppets part 4

Chapter four: the prodigal son returns…oh yeah and Kaos is here too

Two things Kaos learned during the following weeks, firstly that portal magic while interesting to learn about its origins, capabilities and powers it was written down in such a way that he wanted nothing more than to stick all of the ancient tomes into a shredder and hit the ‘confetti’ function. Whoever wrote them must have gotten paid by the page because it took the stupid things ten complicated words to just mean two!

Secondly was that Strykore left him more or less alone as long as he was doing what was planned for him, upon realising that Strykore wanted him to purposely learn how to be a portal master Kaos decided to dig his heels in and not study. Strykore did not take kindly to this rebellious attitude and made Kaos double over in pain as his head felt like someone had lit his frontal lobe on fire, he only ceased the punishment when Kaos collapsed onto the floor giving Pop-Fizz a jolt of alertness from his mid-shift nap. When the potion gremlin asked what was wrong Strykore force fed Kaos the mundane answer of falling out of his seat from nearly nodding off. Pop-Fizz had just shrugged muttered something ‘same dude’ and went back to his post.

Kaos wasn’t sure if it was more enraging or depressing that he was surrounded by the people who should be able to help but none of them could.

Nights were no better.

He was having a different but no less horrible dream, he would find himself night after night on a tiny island barely big enough for him to stand on surrounded by a swirling mass of living void, watched by the burning gaze of Strykore he could hear whispers and mocking laughter that he just wished would stop. Whatever that thing was below him it was hungry and he could see it reaching up to his small haven. One of the oozing claws latched on the island and tried to drag it down, Kaos screamed and hung on as it tipped wildly; more and more claws grasped at the island dragging it lower and Kaos’ feet were now dipping into the void. In a blind panic Kaos threw out his magic to blast the stuff away and free himself…

Kaos awoke covered in sweat and panting breathlessly, he wrapped his blanket around himself tighter.

“That was close” he whispered “He’s never gotten that far before…”

It was only then Kaos noticed where he was, when he went to sleep he was in a camp bed in the cellar behind a locked door. Kaos awoke to find himself in the corridors of the academy and with no memories of how he got there.

“Just by touching whatever that stuff was gave Strykore enough control to move me here?” he wondered in a hushed whisper, “I need to find a way to stop him before it’s too late!”

While wracking his brains for a solution he heard a familiar noise of people snoring, he looked around and saw that he was near the sleeping quarters. He felt himself drawn towards it and kept going until he found himself at Glumshanks room, he stopped outside for a moment at war with himself for doing something as childish as seek comfort from the troll who would no doubt needle him for it. On the other hand the dream’s jeering laughing still echoed in his mind.

He found the door unlocked which was no surprised he wouldn’t be stuck in the cellar if it wasn’t the only room with a lockable door. He peeked in to see Glumshanks gently snoring away, he tip-toed closer and would pause and peer at him again and again to make sure he hadn’t stirred. When he finally got to the bed he quietly clambered on, Kaos glanced around as if someone was going to catch him doing this before lying down next to Glumshanks, wrapping his own blanker around himself.

Kaos did not ‘snuggle’ closer he repositioned himself into a place where he could get optimal warmth and body contact. Evil overlords do not snuggle. As he listened to the troll’s breathing he closed his eyes, he felt warm, he felt safe…

And for the first time in what felt like forever, Kaos got a good night of dreamless sleep.

Glumshanks rose with the sun, his body clock was set permanently to get up at the ungodly early hours of the morning due to his long career as a butler. First to get up but last to go to bed was his sleep pattern, but he was used to it after all these decades. He yawned as he sat up stretching his lanky arms, feeling his neck pop into place as he did; he was about to swing his legs around so he could get out of bed but stopped himself when he saw the large lump sitting atop his quilt. Curiosity got the better of him and he peeled back the extra blanket to reveal a still slumbering Kaos.

“KAOS???!!” he screamed causing the young wizard to jolt awake and flinch. He unfurled from said flinch when he looked up to see a freaked out Glumshanks. “What are you doing in my bed?! How did you even get out?!”

“Err…umm…would you believe me if I said I don’t know?” he could only offer.

“You don’t know how you ended up in my bed?” Glumshanks inquired, Kaos clutched at his blanket with his fists.

“Okay I know how I got ‘here’ here, I climbed into your bed last night for reasons I don’t want to go into” Kaos explained quickly and was now hyper focused on the thread count of his blanket, Glumshanks gave a weary sigh.

“Did you have a nightmare or something? You did say you were having a hard time sleeping when we were in prison…” Glumshanks pondered out loud, Kaos felt his throat go dry and nearly face planted onto the floor in his mad scramble to get out of the bed.

“What me? Nightmares? Noooooo, I got over them ages ago, I’m fine really!” he stammered quickly as he stumbled to the door slinging his blanket over his arm. “Well, I better get back before the Skylanders notice, see you at breakfast Glummy byyyyyyeee!”

“Good bye sir” he could only manage as the door slammed shut.

Kaos’ mind was filled with questions, he had slept well last night he felt so refreshed! What was it about Glumshanks that seem to hold the nightmares off? Was the troll even aware he had such power? Probably not because if he had held such warding magic then Kaossandra wouldn’t have had to work herself into the ground to keep Strykore in his original prison, so if not Glumshanks himself what was the deciding factor? These thoughts buzzed through his mind as he chewed his toast.

He was going to test a theory.

“Glummy whatever you had planned today you can cancel it; I want you to accompany me with my studies!” Kaos declared as he made his way to his classroom.

“Uuuhh…okay? Is this about what happened this mor…” which was far as the troll got before Kaos grabbed him by the ear and dragged him to his eye level.

“That will be kept between us! Even better it never happened in the first place alright!?” he hissed and Glumshanks nodded, his ear was released but then Kaos grabbed his hand instead.

Now to see if whatever negating affect Glummy has works on me during the day too! Kaos thought plopping himself down at his desk and opening the chapter he last left it on. Glumshanks out of boredom starting to read one too.

Morning was in full swing at the Skylanders’ boarding house, Eruptor was currently working on a cooked breakfast as Stealth Elf brewed herself some herbal tea. Jet-Vac stumbled downstairs nearly dislocating his beak by yawning so loud and wordlessly took the coffee mug so big that could have been mistaken for a plant pot from Eruptor’s lava stump. Pop-Fizz was still asleep in his lab below and probably wouldn’t stir till either mission time or lunch.

The quiet silence of a well-worn routine was broken by someone knocking on the door, Stealth-Elf teleported herself to the door and opened it to find a familiar purple dragon with gold horns.

“Hey guys!” Spyro declared happily “I’m back!”

Stealth-Elf gave a very dignified squeal and hugged him dragging the dragon into the house for the others to see.

“Spyro buddy!” Eruptor laughed “Welcome home!”

“It’s been ages!” Jet-Vac cried, “How have you been chum?”

“Great, great I’m so glad to be home!” Spyro exclaimed, this got a confused look from everyone.

“Did you not find your family?” Eruptor asked gently “I thought that was why you left?”

“Oh no I found them, and like I suspected my awesomeness runs in the family because they all kick butt!” Spyro declared excitedly “Turns out that when Strykore was sealed away whatever power he held over them faded with time, they just had no clue how to get back!”

“Sounded like you guys had a lot of catching up to do…which begs the question…why are you back so soon?” Jet-Vac said and all three gave him a suspicious look, Spyro backed away a bit nervously.

“Yeah…last time you vanished and then suddenly came back you were working as a spy for a villain. We better check to make sure…” Eruptor said slyly and loomed over the dragon with a grim look, Spyro slunk down unsure of what this test might entail. There was a long moment of silence as they just stared at each other before Eruptor finally spoke up.

“My pea soup…what do you think of it?”

“Umm…it’s alright, I find the mint kinda overpowers it a little…” Spyro answered confused at the weird and abrupt question. The lava monster gave him another awkward silent moment before smiling and walking away.

“That’s Spyro!” he declared.

“Okay to be fair last time he came back a different colour when he was evil so at least that confirms it” Jet-Vac acknowledged before turning back to Spyro “But seriously you made it sound like you were going to be gone for years!”

“Well…” Spyro said before hanging his head “Look it turns out by dragon years I am considered a child, which was embarrassing because as soon as we all got over the fact that we were together again they started to treat me like a baby and that got old reeeeeeeeeal fast!”

“I suppose as a Skylander you are considered a full-fledged adult so I can imagine how that would feel degrading” Jet-Vac muttered.

“So, wait you just ditched your family??!!” Stealth-Elf cried “After everything you went through to find them!”

“What? No!” Spyro sputtered indignantly “We are taking it slow, now that I know where they live and vice versa are we can let this relationship form naturally, we gonna keep in contact through e-mails, I’m gonna call them weekly and go visit them every month! There’s no need to rush this”

“Buddy it took you months just to fly there how are you gonna visit them every four to five weeks if it takes you ten times that long just to get there?” Eruptor demanded.

“Oh, Eon got that sorted, turns out as long as he’s been to that realm he can connect a portal, I think he’s talking to Kaossandra about that now” Spyro explained happily and began to trot out of the kitchen. “Speaking of I wanna check out the academy and see what’s been going on since I left!”

He stopped when he didn’t hear his friends follow, he looked behind him to see the three watching him sadly.

“Spyro…Eon’s gone remember?” Stealth-Elf mumbled, she expected him to recall the tragic loss of his mentor and get glum not smile impishly.

“Oh, have I got a surprise for you!”

Spyro lead the rest of the Skylanders into the main hall with a confident flourish and held out his claw to present Eon who was floating next to Kaossandra who looked both surprised and elated to see him again even if it was in a phantasmal form. There was a whoop of joy from everyone as they rushed towards him only to make the same mistake Spyro had which resulted in them hitting the floor or wall behind Eon depending on their velocity.

“Yes, well I am working on getting my physical form back but I am here in spirit!” Eon explained happily, “I’m sure Koassandra has done a stellar job of maintaining the academy in my absence.”

“You can have the job back now!” she declared “I have no idea how you managed this place on your own the paperwork alone drove me insane!”

“Sadly I was hoping you can stay on as co-master of the academy on the grounds on well…I can’t hold anything, but I will show you some tricks I’ve learned in the years of doing it!”

“So now that’s settled, anything we missed while we were gone?” Spyro asked as he fluttered up and landed on the railings of the library.

“Not much, usual fighting evil” Pop-Fizz said “Fought the Doom Raiders and other villains, caught said villains and put them in prison, there was a prison riot a while ago…I feel like I’m forgetting something else big too…”

Before Pop-Fizz could recollect his memory or anyone else could offer the information Kaos strode out to get a new tome to study, Spyro spun around saw Kaos standing there with possible priceless relic book in hand and without hesitation leapt on top of him pinning the wizard to the ground.

“Kaos!” Spyro snarled “Why the heck are you here? Lemme guess to blow up the academy? Or to steal some artifact?” Kaos struggled under the dragon’s claws and looked around as the other Skylanders approached, he froze and felt a cold sense of dread as Eon also floated into view.

“Oh yeah now I remember!” Pop-Fizz declared happily “Kaos is here with us now, apparently Kaossandra is teaching him to be a portal master!”

Spyro stared at them then back at Kaos who he only now noticed had yet to fight back, he clambered off him but took the book to be on the safe side. Kaos got back to his feet brushing down his robe and glared at Spyro.

“A Portal Master? Are you quite sure?” Eon asked.

“Trust us if you had seen his magic surging like we did you’d chosen that course of action too, looks like he inherited more than just your mark” Kaossandra exclaimed “I’ve been trying to teach him using the tomes but he needs a real portal master for that…”, Kaos decided that now was the perfect time to sneak away back to his studies but stopped in his tracks when he heard Eon.

“It would seem that we shall we working together from now on Kaos…” he declared, Kaos felt his stomach clench with rage. How dare he try to just carry on like normal? Like nothing had happened at the core of light? As if Kaos was just going to forget that he had kept him in the dark about everything and had likely spent more time with his father than his mother and uncle combined and it was while fighting him!

“Don’t bother!” Kaos snapped angrily “I’m doing just fine studying the tomes I don’t need your help!”

“Son please!” his mother said gently “Studying will only get you so far, you need a real teacher.”

Yes you do, Strykore hissed causing Kaos to clench his teeth in frustration. You will learn from my foolish brother and you will become a Portal Master…or shall I remind you what will happen if you disobey?

Kaos sighed and closed in his eyes in defeat.

“Fine…” he hissed.

“I can’t believe you’re letting the guy who tried to destroy the core of light and nearly kill you to become a portal master!” Spyro snapped angrily before directing his anger at Kaos “I’m not letting you out of my sight! If you so much as try anything I’ll…”

“Trust me I don’t want this anymore than you do dragon boy!” Kaos snapped “But it was either this or exploding and probably taking a few islands with me so…we’re stuck together for now!”

“Fine but I’ve got my eye on you!”

Good Kaos thought You of all people know how Strykore work maybe you’ll have better luck spotting him.

#Kaos #skylanders kaos #kaos skylanders

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kyleoreillysknee · 3 years ago

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Taste of Sunlight

Pairing: Astarion x Unnamed F!Half-Elf Druid

Word Count: 1022

Rating: G - it’s just symbolism and Astarion simping

Warning: I’ve never played the game and am just making up how druids work. Blame Von for putting the vampire all over my dash.

Tagging: @vonschweetz

Series: Part 2

The early morning sun transformed the forest from his playground of prey into something truly extraordinary. Well, he supposed it depended upon perspective. To the unafflicted, this was ordinary and expected. As he remained rooted in place, transfixed by the shimmering sunbeams that turned the river into molten gold, he was struck with a ferocious envy for the mundane creatures that were spoiled by the beauty they could choose to ignore.

It was a sight so gorgeous he could almost forget the crushing waves of hunger lapping up his throat. Nostrils flared, searching for something small and nearby that he could drain to last him one more day after his fruitless night. The boar from a few days earlier was finally running its course through his system, leaving his body sluggish and his senses dulled. His pathetic state had a singular benefit of making it easier to blend in with his travelling companions, unaware of their fragility. It was a rather humbling experience, having to bide his time and rely on others for a change. He despised it all.

Well, there was one exception, that little treat of a half elf druid was fascinating. Surprisingly quick to forgive him after the whole introduction at knife point was how she initially caught his attention. At first it was to determine if she was naive, insane, or allergic to self preservation. And after travelling with her, he honestly couldn’t answer confidently in any way. However, he was certainly having fun watching her and appreciated how the days no longer bled together with their routine. That soft heart of hers was going to get her killed one day, but he could enjoy the distraction while it lasted.

The approach of soft footfalls drew his attention and he instinctively sunk into the shadows of the trees to observe. Speaking of the devil, the druid wove through the underbrush, her fingertips gliding across leaves and bark as if searching for something solely by touch. She crossed into a nearby clearing and finally came to a stop, inhaling deeply with her entire body before dropping from his vision. Tugged by curiosity, he silently stalked closer to watch her get settled comfortably on the grass, a circle of wildflowers growing around her as her fingers sunk into the dirt. He remained tucked away in the trees, not wanting to disturb whatever was transpiring, getting the sense that it was something important to her by the serene bliss in her expression as she tilted her face to the sun.

In this moment he was struck by how much she belonged there. The light breeze wove through her pink hair creating shimmering waves of a sunrise that looked richer than the most luxurious silks in the market. His fingers itched with the need to feel if the locks were as soft as they looked. The realization left a bittersweet taste on his tongue as he knew it wasn’t his place to intrude into her sunlight, that he truly belonged to the shadows and was visiting her domain as a temporary accident. As he lingered long enough to tip into the unfun side of voyeurism, he began to turn and retreat.

“Good morning, Astarion,” her voice chimed cheerfully, snaring him in place.

Stunned for a second, he peered back at her to confirm that her eyes were still closed. Chalking it up to a druid thing, he took her invitation and drew closer. He hesitated for a split second as he toed the line between the shade and the light, wrestling with his natural fear of disintegrating into ash.

“Good morning, darling,” He surprised himself with how at ease he kept his tone, falling into their playful cadence as he came beside her. Being mindful of her flowers, he kept a safe distance, letting her occupy his periphery as he surveyed the meadow, “Please tell me this little ritual of yours doesn’t require a sacrifice.”

She let out a twinkling laugh, giving a shake of her head that freed some of her hair from its place tucked behind her ear. He had to distract his hands, occupying himself with examining his fingernails before he did something stupid like touch her.

“I certainly wouldn’t sacrifice you, even if it did.” As he was too busy wrestling with his thoughts, he didn’t notice her rising from the ground, hands full of her wildflowers. He flinched as movement approached his periphery, forcing himself still as he realized it was her hand. She wordlessly tucked a red gardenia into his hair before letting the breeze scatter her remaining flowers. They both watched them float away, her with an unreadable expression as he memorized every detail in case he wasn’t going to get a chance to see anything like it again.

His fingertips gently traced along the soft petals tickling his ear, catching her watching him with a knowing smile. Giving her a smirk, he gestured to the bloom with a flourish, “Does it bring out my eyes?”

“Of course,” She affirmed with a giggle, spinning to head back to camp and carefully step over the ring of mushrooms left in the wake of her communion, “If we dawdle, the others will start gossiping.”

“They already do, darling,” he lingered behind, greedily holding onto the shared moment a little longer as he drew the stem from behind his ear and examined the flower, “Everyone knows that I’m your favourite.”

Her laugh drew his attention back to her, finding her holding out her hand to him from the tree line. Goodness that soft heart of hers was going to kill him one of these days. Replacing the flower behind his ear, he joined her in the shadows of the trees, lifting her knuckles to his lips with a wink.

Her hand slipped from his as she danced through the forest, never out of her element, “You’re too easy to please, Astarion.”

As he watched her frolic, so full of life, he couldn’t come up with a snarky remark, entranced at how she stepped through light and shadow as if they were equals, both deserving enough to touch her.

#my writing #astarion fic #astarion x mc #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 fic #astarion x pc

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bestie-enthusiast · 3 years ago

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A Means To An End

Summary: After chasing a lead into a neaby building, Sam and Bucky get to see a more... vunrable side of the Baron.

This fic is inspired by @morganbritton132

They had been chasing a lead, one of the cars that supposedly belonged to the Flag Smashers had been spotted outside of a small theatre. They had speculated it was a supply stop, or maybe a place to lay low. Zemo had taken them, in a surprisingly non-attention-drawing car, to about a block away from the theatre, and they started to walk the rest of the way there.

“It is privately owned, from what I understand.” Zemo explained to them. “The owners, most likely powerful and influential individuals, are either unaware of what's going on, or are actively supporting the group.”

Sam nodded, “Makes sense to me. Do we have to worry about them being there?” Zemo shook his head.

“Most likely not. They would have no reason to be inside unless they are also super soldiers.” Sam hummed in agreement and turned to Bucky, who had been silent.

“Are you good, man?” He asked quietly as they grew closer to the theatre.

“This feels like a trap.” Bucky grumbled, glaring at the small, but lavish, building that they had stopped in front of. “They’ve been staying at the camps and keeping supplies there. This feels out of character.”

Sam frowned, “Well maybe they needed a place to lay low, they know we’ve been tracking the houses they’ve been staying at, so maybe this is how they're trying to throw us off?” Bucky nodded, but didn’t look convinced.

Zemo led them into the theatre, effortlessly navigating the building. It was much larger on the inside than it appeared. As they wound their way deeper and deeper into the building, Bucky seemed to grow more and more agitated, until he froze.

“Bucky?” Sam asked worriedly, looking at the range of emotions passing over his friend's face.

“Shh,” Bucky hissed quietly, tilting his head towards a wall. Sam barely had the time to open his mouth when an explosion rocked the building. He felt something hit his head, and passed out.

Sam blinked awake, groaning at the dryness of his mouth. It took a few moments for him to remember what happened, but he didn’t feel too bad, so he assumed everything was good. He wasn’t completely covered in the ruins of the theatre, which is good, and after relieving himself of the rest of it, everything seemed to be intact, aside from some bruising and some cuts.

He looked around and spotted Bucky, who seemed to be just waking up as well, and walked over to help him up. Not that he needed it.

After the two of them had (somewhat subty) looked over the other for any signs of damage, they set about scouring the building for anything of use. Bucky was walking with a limp, and Sam had a minor concussion, but they were both still breathing and alive. They stumbled through, leaning on the other or on the nearest (standing) wall whenever they needed it.

That was when Sam remembered Zemo, and Bucky heard a voice.

“Fuck.” They said in unison, looking at the other in surprise.

“Zemo,” Sam explained in a single word, watching as Bucky let out a tense sigh.

“I heard someone.” Bucky said back, looking in the direction he had heard a whimper. It was very faint, but still present. “We don’t know who was in here. Could be a civilian.” Sam nodded and Bucky led them in the direction he heard the cry. As Bucky and Sam grew closer, Bucky was able to discern the voice as a sort of pained mewling, someone on the edge of hysteria that threatened to consume them. Sam also grew more concerned as Bucky led them into a more unstable and ruined part of the theatre.

The pathetic cry’s grew louder as the drew near to the source, and the weakness and vulnerability in them was the reason neither Sam nor Bucky thought that it could possibly be the missing Baron until they laid eyes upon him.

Zemo, in short, looked like a mess. A cut on his hairline was pouring blood down his face as the man curled in on himself. His hands were bleeding, the skin on his fingers rubbed raw after being used to scratch as concrete and metal. His appearance and injuries weren't the worst part though, no the worst part was what he was saying.

“Heike, Carl, Papa.” Over and over, like a mantra. Even as he choked on dust he continued to repeat the phrase. His voice sounded wrecked, ripped to shreds by screams no one had heard. It was very clear that Zemo just wasn’t there. He was not present as he repeated those three words even as he gasped for air and his voice cracked and crumbled.

Sam reacted before Bucky, gently calling out to Zemo. Even as he raised his voice Zemo did not respond, not even a flinch at the volume. Bucky tried next. He gently prodded at the Baron’s hands, once again not even eliciting a flinch. Bucky tried again with more force, pressing both of Zemo’s hands tightly against his chest. It was a very tense few moments as the Baron because lucid once again.

The usual sharpness returned to his eyes, although the tears were still present. Zemo blinked at them, and for once the Baron looked ashamed of himself.

“Apologies, you should not have seen that.” The man quietly apologised, wincing at the way his voice cracked. Sam and Bucky both just shook their heads, helping Zemo up. They all stumbled out of the rubble together, and Zemo spared himself a glance at the two men helping him. Bucky had a sort of empathetic understanding in his eyes, eyes far too soft to be looking at a criminal such as himself. Sam gave him a look of understanding, although it felt more like pity than anything. Zemo knew both men had experience with PTSD, but he never wished for them to know he struggled with it as well.

They staggered through the streets, Zemo carefully keeping quiet about the sharp pain in his ankle every time he took a step. It would be better if they just left him alone for some time once they arrived back at his safe house, and they would not leave him alone if they knew the extent of his physical injuries, let alone his mental ones.

And so he kept quiet. When they made it into the safehouse, Zemo let out a breath that he hadn’t been aware he was holding in. He let himself relax minutely now that they were in a safe location. It had been a taxing experience, and all he wished was for some space to once again grieve and mourn for his family. Unfortunately, it did not appear that Sam nor James would be giving him such a privilege, and so he continued to do his best to hold apart his now fragile mask. “So.” Sam said once they had all settled on the couch in the main room of the house. It was a tense, but not unwelcome intrusion into their silence, nevertheless Zemo flinched at the sudden noise.

“So.” He repeated quietly, knowing that as long as he spoke in quiet, quick sentences they would not be able to tell his voice was still quiet ruined and cracking. Zemo resisted the urge to curl up, to bring his feet into his person and rest his chin on his knees. It would be a very childish position and not to mention, vulnerable. It was a very tense few moments before Zemo decided to speak again.

“Do I have your permission to sleep or-” his voice cracked again as he thought of sleep. No doubt it would be nightmare filled. “Or do I have to sit in this st-stifling silence longer?” He could feel himself flush at his simple inability to speak a proper sentence, but silently hoped it would convince Sam and his sympathetic and pity-filled body to let him go.

“Oh, uhh, sure man. Whatever you want.” That was all he needed. He walked as fast as he could, without making it obvious he was eager to leave, to the closest bedroom. He locked the door behind him, relishing in the comfort the simple click brought him. He toed off his shoes and shrugged off all of his clothes sans boxers, and collapsed onto the bed. He started shaking with the effort that it was taking to hold everything, and so he let it out. Every single bit of pain and grief and anguish that he felt as he was relieving the memory. He could taste the dust in the air, remember the pain in his hands that he ignored as he dug his family from underneath the rubble.

It all felt so real, like it was happening again. Like he was truly relieving the worst moments of his entire life again. Like he was- he was experiencing the destruction of his whole world again, he could physically feel the pain in his heart as he recalled the memory.

He sobbed and screamed into the pillows on the bed, shaking like a leaf in a storm all the while. It didn’t take long for the pain to turn into exhaustion and numbness. For the grief to turn into mourning. He let out a shaky breath as his tears started to slow and his shakes turned less violent.

He felt nauseous but all too tired to even think about expelling energy to have something to drink, so instead he focussed on just passing the fuck out.

And hey! It worked.

Or at least he thought it did. He was pretty certain it did. Especially when he opened his eyes to see his papa’s ruined mansion in front of him. He inhaled the scent of dust and smoke, eyes already watering as he stared at the remains of his once luxurious childhood home. He stumbled down to the basement where he knew his bodies would be, solidifying the fact that this was a dream. In reality, it had taken him much longer to search the basement, holding out hope that the caved ceiling wouldn’t be covering their bodies. He stumbled down until he was directly in front of the spot he knew their bodies were buried, and started to dig. He dug and dug even as his hands screamed at him (or was it him screaming?) and the pain became near unbearable, until he was able to make out a small, pale wrist underneath all the rubble.

He clutched it like a lifeline, checking for a pulse for a very long moment. He already knew there wouldn’t be one, but every time he had this dream he still held out hope. He continued to claw at the remains, more careful now, until his entire family was uncovered. And just like every other time he had this nightmare, he carefully checked for pulses, breathing, anything, and just like every other time, there was nothing.

He allowed his tears to fall in the privacy of his family’s ruined home, and hoped to wake soon. If the dream continued on like this, he would be testing the theory of whether or not dying in your dreams can make you die in real life.

Thankfully, he woke up soon after. Although the way in which he woke up was not the most pleasant. He awoke to a loud thudding on his door and someone shouting his name. He felt somewhat delirious and wondered if he had picked up an infection. He grabbed a neatly folded bathrobe off of a chair and pulled it on, tying it loosely as he unlocked and opened the door.

Sam Wilson stood before him, looking uncharastically concerned. Well the man regularly looked concerned, it was just that he was concerned with Zemo that was abnormal.

“What?” Zemo asked tonelessly. He was too emotionally exhausted to use any snark or sarcasm.

“You were screaming,” Sam replied, stuffing his hands in his pockets awkwardly. Zemo suddenly felt awkward as well.

“Oh.” He was usually silent during his nightmare, but the day's events appeared to have affected his subconscious more than he had thought. “Apologies.”

“No it's fine, I just… you got me and Buck real concerned earlier, and I thought maybe…” Maybe he had gone into another flashback.

Zemo shook his head, “Just nightmares. I should recover just fine in a few days.” Sam looked nervous, but didn’t push it. He left soon after. As soon as he was out of sight Zemo let out a quiet brief, sagging against his door frame. He knew that the right thing to do would be to talk, to open up and spill out all his vulnerability so that they could pick through it like vultures and decide whether or not he was worth helping. He did not believe he was worth helping, and so he would not do the so called right thing.

He would not bear his soul only to have it crushed.

He would not let himself believe that maybe people did care after all.

Because he was only a means to a necessary end. And there was no need to complicate things further by adding his own emotions into the mix.

No. He would stay strong. This wouldn’t affect his performance on the field, and he would not let it affect his newly acquired acquaintanceship with the two men who assisted him in his escape from prison.

A means to an end. That was it.

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