#and is hyper away that something has to give so she's been trying to bait odette into yelling for a while

[ahollowgrave]

Febhyurary 2025 | Day 13: Storm

It's about fucking time.

[winesink]

Fuck it, WIP Wednesday

Sansan hockey AU no one asked for

Voregeoisiee on ao3. Promise what's posted isn't as hyper taste specific 😂

It's nearing the end of the second when things start to heat up. A bad rebound from Pod leads to a dogpile in front of the net, where the refs conveniently miss an obvious chokehold from the Vale's prized winger, Hardyng. The crowd's on its feet, and Sandor can feel the crackle of energy which usually precedes a favorable turn like an incoming storm - a dense fog of nervous energy accumulating in the nosebleeds, just waiting to rain down on them.

Sandor pays Hardyng back by putting him on the glass hard enough to pop his own visor off. No call, clean hit. The ozone breaks open with a peal of thunder that sounds suspiciously like 17,000 fans barking like dogs. Lannister creates a turnover, Bronn takes it up ice while the Knights are still on their back feet. Odd man breakaway, two red jerseys flying up the ice, nothing between them and the back of a net but a goalie that sprung a five hole leak sometime last month. 

And then Redwyne hops the fence a full second too soon. 

Sandor's not sure what rings loudest: the collective groan from the crowd, the ref's whistle, or Selmy's blue streak. 

Jamie peels off to negotiate with the ref, but Sandor doesn't bother. FNG's been eager all season. He's just surprised not to find any yellow ice where he piddled. He turns towards the corner where he dropped his equipment instead and finds Royce balancing the visor on the end of his stick, proffered like a white flag. "Hell of a hit, Hound," the vet concedes, and Sandor accepts both offerings with a grunt. Old man's probably just hoping to butter him up so he doesn't have to take one himself, but Sandor plays along. Selmy's been on his ass about his reputation ever since giving him the 'A'. It's enough to have him chewing through his mouth guard most games, but Royce ain't bad. "Suppose we're all just lucky Harry didn't try something like that a few years ago, eh?" 

The incident in the Iron Isles, he's referring to. Sandor's first season with the Lions. He'd been called up as an enforcer when a rowdy series against the Kraken had been threatening to boil over. Young and stupid and eager to earn his keep in the big leagues, Sandor had returned a hit on the Lions' star player in game six with one of his own - and telescoped Greyjoy's spine in the process. Careerender. Life-ender, damn near. He'd been ejected, but it had ultimately been deemed a clean hit with no suspension. They'd gone on to the finals, only ceding the crown to Bear Isle after seven games, a deep run no team could be ashamed of, and he wasn't. But that didn't stop the criminal investigation Pyke PD had subjected him to for an entire off-season. Nor did it fix Greyjoy's spine.

Sandor ignores the snipe. Royce makes for a dog shit pest and the Hound can smell bait a mile away, besides. "Woulda been some trick. Couple years ago, Harry Hardyng was still sucking his mam's tit," he supplies instead and Royce just laughs good naturedly as they split ways to their respective benches.

Squeezing in next to Kettleblack, he's miffed when the general aura of frustration he'd expected to find on the bench has somehow not ousted the general giddiness that's had them fucking up all evening. Having had enough, Sandor leans around Osmund to ask the line of gnats on his left what's so fucking funny about their performance when he sees it - right on glass and dead center - the font from which so much prancing and peacocking has sprung: Joffrey Baratheon, the Lions' heir apparent, and his arm candy of the week.

She's cute. Pink and pouty, but sensible enough not to wear a fucking club dress to an ice rink, unlike the last one. She's gone with an away jersey, probably to keep the red home one from clashing with her pretty auburn hair. It's big on her. Slouchy. Threatens to fall off one delicate shoulder.  Despite himself, Sandor's eyes roam down to where she's got her long legs crossed elegantly, showing off her pristine white trainers. Fucking leggings. Bane of his existence.

His eyes flick back up just in time to see her noticing him - horrified expression and all. Sandor grimaces, turning back to the bench. "Eyes in front, you twats," he barks at no one in particular. It works, the whole bench sitting straighter as Selmy wraps up his tirade long enough to send Sandor a surprised, but approving nod.

[wyvernne]

HITTING THE NAIL DIRECTLY ON THE HEAD AS ALWAYS QUEEN

I'm SO tired of new fem characters coming out and they have absolutely no substance to them and you can't look anything up about them because everything is literally just porn. We can't have genuinely interesting and well thought out female characters because that won't sell them, their sex appeal has to sell them! You have to listen to their artificially high voices and never see them get dirty or messy or seen as anything but pretty ladies in barely there clothing! Ignore the fact that a lot of these women are genuine fighters, they're eye candy! They're the mom coded and little sister coded characters!

Even the girls get this treatment because if I have to listen to another person say Diona is super annoying and ignore the trauma she has by literally being left ALONE to run an entire business because her dumb as fuck alcoholic father can't be bothered to do so, I'm gonna fucking lose it. Also massive agree on the fact that the keep child coding the older characters or keep them in an ambiguous "they look/sound like they're 15 but they perform duties that people in their 20s+ perform" state. It is so fucking annoying. They know their fanbase, they know what people are going to do with most of these characters.

It's L after L with Hoyo and I hate it because there are so many things I LOVE about this game but then it's like...you give them an inch and they blow everything up.

no deadass it would be one thing to have a variety of characters with different ages, but what bothers me is that they constantly toe that line between childhood innocence and l*li baiting. so many of these child characters have age caveats that at first glance i didn’t even consider, but then started seeing people use it to justify that klee ages differently/qiqi is immortal/etc. when they’re KIDS

it’s what’s been so off putting for me with nahida. it’s really not just the fact that she’s a kid. it’s the entire shitstorm that follows making her into a child character. the way her official art feels icky and the way she’s meant to be the archon of wisdom (and although she was sheltered), acts so much like a child in out of character ways. so many of the women are painfully soft-spoken, but in such a discord kitten way that it’s uncomfortable to listen to. beidou’s voice acting is my favorite example of just… a woman speaking like a woman and not sounding like she’s trying to sound innocent and soft.

this is absurd because i am absolutely against censorship, but those bandaid fixes hoyo sent out for the female characters’ outfits were actually a little bit of a relief. it’s always skintight bodysuits, micro shorts, etc. for female warriors? i love the direction they went with dehya because after so long, we finally had a female character who wasn’t shoved into a hyper feminine box. she’s brash and battle-worn in the best ways, but even she is barely wearing any clothes.

and yes, she largely works and travels in hot areas, but there is no semblance of any tastefulness or thought put into her outfit other than “how much skin can we get away with showing”

and the fact that kaeya, with a single low cut top, is the closest we get to something remotely “sexy” on a male character? gorou, cyno, and itto are more undressed than kaeya, but their designs feel purposeful to their characters. they, at the very least, make sense. they’re also a minuscule minority against a slew of other suit-wearing male characters. i see it over and over again in video games where women’s sexualities are weaponized not to uplift them and their identities, but to objectify them. it doesn’t matter for a single second that this is a fictional video game. the portrayal of women is genuinely gross and harmful and i will never shut up about it.

[larenoz]

Guerenti - Michael and Kyle - I Like It

I’ve been Team Guerenti for a while now, but it’s a ship I want to see in fic, not in canon (because of my thoughts about the importance of straight Kyle). For me it’s also based on my thoughts about what happened in Roswell while Liz and Alex were away. I don’t see either of them returning to Roswell often. If they did, they kept there interactions to a very limited number of people (ie not Max or Michael). So my thoughts are definitely grounded in what happened to the people who stayed in Roswell during the Lost Decade, especially Michael, Maria and Kyle.

We know that Kyle spent a fair bit of time outside of Roswell at the start of the Lost Decade, getting his degree, doing his residency etc. It’s during this period that Kyle’s outlook and attitudes undergo a fairly massive change, so that when he returns to Roswell he is a changed man.

For me that period where Kyle returns to Roswell and starts to integrate himself back into the life of the town is the period where he and Michael start to interact. I don’t see Michael and Kyle having interacted much during high school, but Michael was very aware of how Kyle treated Alex, and how Kyle’s taunts applied to him as well, even if no one knew it. Since Kyle does his emotional growth while outside of town, the first step in their relationship developing is Michael seeing that Kyle has changed.

There are any number of scenarios for how this could happen but since we know Michael is a hard no for doctors and hospitals, their connection has to happen outside of the hospital. For me, the scene I always imagine is something like Michael finds Kyle sitting in his car on the side of the road that’s broken down. He initially starts out giving Kyle a hard time but realises pretty quickly that Kyle isn’t taking the bait. In fact he’s on the verge of tears. Cause Kyle has had a REALLY bad day at work, lost a favourite patient or couldn’t save someone or some other tragedy. Something that makes Michael begin to realise that maybe Kyle isn’t the person he remembers.

So Michael stops giving him a hard time, hooks up his car and drives him back to town. On the way he checks in with Kyle, does he want him to call anyone for him, his mum etc. Kyle says no but he takes note of Michael being kind.

That then sort of begins Kyle noticing Michael around town, seeing him quietly helping people, doing odd jobs for free or for barter. And Kyle starts to realise that maybe there’s more to Michael than the macho cowboy swagger that he presents to the world.I think Kyle seeing Michael help people, especially those who might otherwise slip through the cracks or have nowhere else to go would be something that flags Michael as a caring person willing to act on that compassion.

In turn, Michael sees Kyle helping people with their medical issues where he can, fixing minor wounds, health advice, maybe prescriptions etc. These interactions then go from random to deliberate, from the 18+ Discord discussion, which totally sums up how I see it playing out:

“Over a series of encounters-- Kyle happens by as Michael is helping someone who has spun out into a ditch and they need some medical help.... Michael gets Kyle to stitch up a bartender's hand at the Pony when he slices it on a broken glass, etc... they start to build a rapport and trust with each other. And the supports keep getting bigger-- Michael drives a kid who was injured in a fight to the hospital, gets Kyle to treat him because he's figured out the kid is half-fallen through the cracks like he was and needs the help. He fixes Kyle's car for free in return. Comes to Kyle one time because he's trying to get Sanders to get his blood pressure checked, since the guy keeps having dizzy spells. Kyle comes to the junkyard to do it...stays for a beer. Kyle gets Michael to fix a patient's car because the finances are so tight that the mom is having to ration her insulin and is about to lose her job because she can't afford to fix the car that gets her to work.” (@daughterofelros)

All of this slowly builds up trust and a grudging respect between the two. But being who they are (especially Michael), they both fight it and their interactions are all snark and sharp edges.

“I see them as very... hungry and unintentionally self-soothing with each other and just like, this connection they can't understand but can't get away from. Like all rational thought leaves their head when the other is close.

like those moments of softness are something they crave but never ever acknowledge or talk about bc they're terrified to admit they actually care about each other.” (@chasingshhadows)

Eventually, one day after seeing Michael trying to work with an injury, Kyle forces him to sit down, looks after the wound (feeding my very strong H/C kink, ngl) and then, one thing leads to another....

Both Michael and Kyle strike me as action oriented people. Despite what some people on the show seem to think, Michael is constantly helping people. He comes across as very service oriented, very action oriented (even if he doesn’t always think those actions all the way through). He doesn’t trust what people say, people lie. People have spent his entire life judging Michael and getting it very wrong. He assesses (not judges) people by their actions, not what they say. So he needs to SEE Kyle be this changed person, and that’s what happens over the Lost Decade.

For his part, Kyle is also very action oriented, although he manifests that in being hyper-focused in all that he does (he only has 30 seconds to talk to Jesse on his run!!). But that focus is tempered by compassion and the Valenti Code and while Michael may not necessarily always act within the law, because he acts from a place of care and compassion, he is unknowingly acting with the Valenti Code, especially when it comes to protecting his family - who for Michael have ALWAYS been more than blood.

So, that's my random Guerenti thoughts. What have I missed? What have I gotten wrong?

Guerenti Fics

“small towns make for small friends” by @AnnCherie -

“This Hard Lie” by @lambourn - Chapter 5 of the “This Hard Life” stories focused on Michael Guerin.

Guerenti on Ao3

Shout out to @lambourngb, @chasingshhadows, @daughterofelros, @finditagain24

[bruh-haikyuu]

REQUEST: Can I request Bokuto with a soft & short manager s/o and she always helps the team cheer bokuto up when hi is in emo mode and like a lot of fluff🥺👉👈

A/N: Tumblr is being a whore with their Keep Reading button, putting it on the ask and shit smh. So I apologize for the repost.

alate. | bokuto kōtarō

word count: 1776

warnings: none

(adj.) having wings; lifted up in flight

Official match protocols only allowed one manager on the court for each team. Fukurodani Academy’s Boys’ Volleyball team always had their lenient but reliable third year managers to get the job done. Third-years Yukie and Kaori had been your final salvation against the inevitable fate of having to care for the raucous boys alone. But today with some lucky fortune of theirs, they’d somehow coerced you into taking their place.

“...Will I experience any internal combustions by the end of the match?”

The three of you stood in a personal circle at the entrance to the gym. The three managers of Fukurodani, with your two seniors looming over you like two scheming birds of prey. They didn’t even have to ask why you were so worried; despite being a second-year, this was your first time to stand on the court with the team instead of panicking on your own on the sidelines. This time, you were in the game, up-close-and-personal.

“You’ll do fine~” Yukie grinned, raising her right hand in a lazy ‘OK’ gesture. “Besides, you’re a total expert when it comes to giving Bokuto a good knock in the head.”

If Bokuto’s vanity was a chronic disease, he’d need more than just a “good knock in the head” to be cured. But Yukie wasn’t wrong. Your praises, in comparison to the others’, had a quicker, more powerful effect on the ace. Though you weren’t sure if that skill of yours was more of a blessing than a curse...

“W-well, I’ll do my best,” you muttered, fiddling with the hem of your track jacket. Your seniors exchanged a look before smiling softly at you.

“Oh, and one more thing!” Kaori piped up as you lugged the bag full of empty bottles over your shoulder. “Can you act a bit bashful when you’re complimenting the captain?

“Why’s that, Kaori-san?”

“Bokuto thinks you look cute when you’re embarrassed.”

══════ ⋆★⋆ ══════

‘Cute’? What did that even mean? Did Bokuto always think people were ‘cute’ whenever they flash a single praise at him? Not that you remembered... What’s with that, you grumbled, angrily trying to get the concept into your skull.

Your eyes darted back to the court where—much to your distress—the other team just had to be painfully good at blocks. Now, you just hoped that the boys wouldn’t get too disgruntled.

The score was 12-15, with Torasaka Metropolitan High in the lead. Though Fukurodani had obtained their twelfth point with a lucky read on Torasaka’s setter dump, things were obstinately bleak for your team.

“I want to try it!” you heard Bokuto exclaim excitedly. From afar, you could already spot a few sullen scowls begin to form on his teammates’ faces. “Hey, ‘Kaashi, do you want to try that block with me?”

The setter sent you a pained expression enough for guilt to comically swallow you whole. Returning his attention to the ace who’s practically bouncing on his heels, Akaashi sighed. “Bokuto-san, let’s focus on our normal blocks first.”

A child! you thought incredulously as you watched the captain stick out his tongue at him. Though Bokuto was particularly a sight to behold when he’s in top form, just how confident could he be, trying something so risky in a middle of a tight match? Or was he just a complete and utter numbskull? You thought he was rather amazing for the juxtaposition... in a Bokuto fashion, of course.

As Washio prepared to serve, you watched the ace literally vibrate with eagerness of having such an “interesting enemy”. Whenever Bokuto got extremely fired up, it was your inevitable fate that you just couldn’t look away. The way his jersey hugged his hulking frame as he flexed his muscles in preparation to follow the path of the ball, it was nearly bewitching. If he had been like this his entire life, you were sure your heart wouldn’t take being with Bokuto for a mere second.

“It’s up!” Torasaka’s libero signaled, cleanly receiving Washio’s serve (much to the player’s frustration).

In your memory, Torasaka High wasn’t a much known threat until just recently. “Their new first years block like a fort,” you remembered what Coach Yamiji had said in the bus that morning. Despite far from being as crafty as Nohebi or as versatile as Nekoma, Tokyo teams were a force to be reckoned with.

What a terrifying sport, you thought to yourself for what seemed to be the fifth time this month.

“Left! Left!”

On the other side of the court, Sarukui, Bokuto and Akaashi scrambled to follow the ball’s trajectory. Though you were only a rookie in this entire volleyball thing, you were quick to notice that Bokuto’s footsteps were a bit smaller and slower than the first two...

Wait, is he planning to delay the timing of his block now?!

It was definitely a quick from the other side. It was evident, even to you. And when the two jumped to block the ball with their ace lagging behind, the ball had already streaked over him at a dangerous angle. Point Torasaka.

Landing on the pads of his feet, Akaashi’s expression shifted between “candidly annoyed” and “visibly concerned” as he watched the captain raise his head for his team to see.

“You’re kidding me...” Sarukui groaned under his breath. Behind him, the others followed promptly with their own reactions of disbelief.

His infamous salt-and-pepper hair deflating alongside his shoulders, Bokuto whined, loud enough for you to hear from the benches. “The hell... I thought I had that block mastered. Why’d they have to make it look so easy?”

Time-out! Akaashi turned to you and the coach a with pleading stare, hard enough for your supervising teacher to shoot upwards and signal the referee for their second break of the match.

Groaning, you stuffed your face in your hands, hoping that your senior managers in the audience were praying for your good health.

“What were you thinking?!” Coach Yamiji hissed, giving the sulking ace a well-deserved smack to the side of his head. Bokuto didn’t even flinch. “You could’ve—”

“Coach. Let me.”

Snapping his head in your direction, the old man grew pale when he heeded the dark aura that spewed from your body. Even the others, though they were only watching the entire event go down, was hyper-aware of the invisible, nightmarish fog that came with your frustration.

You’d always seemed so sweet and indulgent, never angry. Never. And yet Bokuto had finally gotten you to drop the tether that held your patience together.

Walking to Bokuto, you sent him a scowl so cold, he forgot how to blink. The rest of the team, the coach, your teacher and even Yukie and Kaori in the stands shivered from the sudden gust of frosty air that oozed from you. Some of the audience surprisingly turned their heads to watch the spectacle of the tiny Fukurodani manager who seemed like she was about to trample on their ace.

Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

“Bokuto, you—!”

You froze. No. If you scolded him now, that only make matters worse. Bokuto didn’t fare well when he was scolded by Kaori or Yukie either. Besides, you were his manager, not his mother. But what else were you going to do?

Bokuto thinks you look cute when you’re embarrassed.

Swallowing a nagging lump in your throat, you recalled the words of your seniors. Embarrassed? How do you do embarrassed? Was that even a thing you could pull off manually? Taking in a deep breath, you tightened your fist before loosening them in front of your body. Something was better than nothing.

“B-Bokuto-senpai...?”

“Senpai?!” the others snapped towards you, jaws on the floor. Even Bokuto was stunned.

Eyeing his interested gaze, you continued, fidgeting bashfully, “Bokuto-senpai’s such a slob... If you just listened to the others... you’d be a lot cooler...”

Komi tugged at the back of Konoha’s jersey, whispering in the blonde one’s ear, “She’s pulling out the ‘Cute Tsundere’ card!”

Stupefied, the wing spiker muttered, “Bokuto’s actually taking the bait... Scary. L/N-san’s scary.”

And take the bait he did. You didn’t even realize how red you were with the way he was looking at you—and the shade was fully unintentional, much to your chagrin. But Bokuto’s sullen mood was far gone, replaced with the brighter interest of infatuation.

“A lot cooler...?” Bokuto savored your words in his tongue, before whipping out both his hands to grab at your shoulders. “Y-You think I’m cool?!”

You didn’t even have to pretend to be shy anymore. The close contact of his skin, the scent of his sweat mingled with the musky aroma of his cologne and the pinkish tint on his cheeks. It was too much, and you soon wondered if Bokuto had always seemed this charming to you.

“Y-you airhead! Of course I do,” you mumbled, lowering your sight to the floor. “You’re already really good at volleyball, but you do things like forcing yourself to do a block you can’t do just because you want attention and... and now everyone has to bear that burden.”

“Please go on a date with me.”

You flinched in his grasps. This was escalating much faster than you’d hoped it would. Unable to register what he had said, you asked him to repeat himself.

“The cute Y/N-chan thinks I’m cool. That’s like a dream come true, right? So if I become cool again, won’t you go on a date with me?”

How unbelievable. One second he almost reminded you of the small boy that lived below your apartment, and the next he was like some sort of phantom thief, ready to whisk you away from the confines of your castle and steal your heart. You smiled earnestly; Bokuto Koutarou really was a man of many wonders.

Slipping yourself away from his grip, you raised an index finger between his eyes. “If you win... I’ll consider it.”

Like a phoenix rising from its ashes, the ace lit up once more. Revived, renewed, and heart set on taking you out. While dragging Akaashi back onto the court, Bokuto made it a point that he was looking at you all the way. You giggled. What an interesting person.

From the stands, your gaze traced the motto of Fukurodani’s Volleyball Club. Pour all your soul into each ball. Bokuto played with passion, with his emotions and whenever the time was right, with his logic too. For a while, volleyball seemed like the last thing you’d want to spend your life doing. But seeing the ace’s blushing grin to you when they’d scored the final match point... it might not be as bad as you thought it’d be.

[eggtoasties]

Chapter 2: II. Adagio

Read Chapter 1: I. Allegro

Pairing: Kuroo Tetsuro x Reader

Word Count: 3.7k

Summary: Kuroo used to think the best sound in the world was a volleyball hitting the court on the other side of the net. Now, he has other things on his repertoire.

They were both called to the music room during study hall. As Kuroo walked towards Jouda-sensei, he watched as their teacher tried to cajole her into something, unable to catch their words at a distance. Arms crossed, she sent Kuroo an unimpressed stare making him respond with a nervous grin as he came to a stop.

“I was hoping to set you two up for lessons during study hall,” Jouda-sensei said, nodding between the two of them.

“No offense,” she said, quickly glancing at Kuroo, “but I’m paid to do this outside of school. Also, I don’t really have time to meet every single day—shouldn’t Daisuke be doing this? I’m sure he,” she jutted her chin towards Kuroo, “and I will both get called to other teachers and clubs during study hall so I don’t know if this’ll work out,” she huffed.

Eyebrows raised high, Kuroo said, “Wow, didn’t realize I was dead meat to you already, first chair,” resulting in a pout from Jouda-sensei and a glare from her which made him nervously snicker. He put his hands in his pockets, subtly wiping away at the clamminess of his palms.

“Aw, come on now, you know Daisuke-kun isn’t…” Jouda-sensei trailed off, trying to find the words, “the best at teaching. But,” she said brightly, “you’re the leader for a reason! And it doesn’t have to be every day—just coordinate with each other and other people to set up a rotation. I just want Kuroo-kun to be set up with good habits from the start.”

Sighing wearily and nodding, she faced Kuroo as Jouda-sensei left them.

Slouching in what he hoped was a nonchalant pose, he flashed a grin.

“So, are you gonna charge me by the minute?” Kuroo arched his brow. “Because I don’t really have the funds for that. Plus, I’m pretty sure you’re not allowed to sell anything on school grounds.” Readjusting his backpack straps and slightly loosening his tie, his eyes met hers quickly before finding a place over her shoulder. “But, if you don’t have time or whatever that’s--” he stumbled over his words, “I’m sure I can figure something out.”

Rolling her eyes, she loosened her school tie. “Yeah, I’m going to charge a thousand yen a minute and if you don’t pay up, I’ll have my goons knock your kneecaps in.”

“Didn’t realize being captain,” she shot him an amused grin and he bookmarked it for later, “of the orchestra came with your own henchmen. Maybe I should’ve started way earlier,” he drawled.

“Yup,” she said cheerily, popping the ‘p.’ “They do all my coursework and bully people out of their lunch money so I can add it to my secret treasury in the cave underneath the school,” she said conspiratorially. “Also,” she began, facing fully towards him. “It’s nice to meet you—I really don’t mind helping you out, it’s just that with my last year of high school things are hectic with exams and applications and I really can’t commit to everyday,” she explained.

His shoulders relaxed with a breath he didn’t know he was holding, previous tension dissipating with her explanation. Kuroo nodded and held out his hand. As she grasped it, he raised a brow at the strength of her small grip and brightly painted nails.

“I get it.” Kuroo finally said. “I’m a third year too and it’s hard enough as it is without having to teach a newbie every day,” he said, semi-fondly thinking of Lev, “—all good.”

“Alright, well,” she said, swaying on the balls of her feet, “let’s get started.”

She had him play open strings so she could assess his posture and Kuroo was not accustomed to being the center of such intense concentration. Sure, he’s served a million times in games where he knew every eye was on him, but she seemed to scrutinize every aspect of his body. The distribution of his weight on his legs, the angle of his shoulders, the slope of his wrists, finger placement, and even his face—there was something to adjust. To be fair, she did say his face looked like he was constipated, but he figured it was because one should always look serene during such a cultured activity.

A gentle tap to the shoulder, a tap to his left inner wrist, her hands guided his body as he became accustomed to the instrument. She stood slightly behind him to his side at one point and gently held his right arm and set another hand on his shoulder to show him how the bow should move. He’s used to his body—Kuroo would say he has a better understanding of what his body is capable of than most people but, gentle movements to work with a foreign object was completely new territory. She’s not teaching him how to read a volleyball midair and figure out what the best millisecond worth of contact is. She’s not grabbing his lanky arms to show him how to position for a block—this is completely different.

He figured it’s one thing to adjust to new innovative plays mid-game and another to feel so entirely helpless and clunky. Although she’s only been patient and gentle, he can’t help but feel unsure and awkward in his body as he tried to follow her instruction. Maybe, Kuroo thought to himself, I should cut Lev some slack.

“Can you feel how your arm hinges at the elbow, but the elbow itself stays still?” she asked, lightly grasping his elbow and guiding his forearm. His skin tingled at the contact through his shirt and he repressed a shiver.

He’s used to physical contact—from his teammates. High fives, hugs, and fist bumps. But from a stranger…it’s different. He’s hyper aware of the calluses of her left hand when she taps the bare skin of his wrists and although each touch is light and fleeting, a part of him wished they’d linger for a little longer.

After a while, she grabbed her instrument and mirrored his movements, showing him the angles of her body in relation to the violin and bow. He stood in awe of the confidence of her actions, drawing a rich deep sound from the strings unlike the scratchy wobbly sounds he’d been producing.

She taught him two scales, explained basic music concepts he vaguely remembered from piano lessons and before he knew it, study hall was coming to a close. Head full with new information, shoulders a little tense, he absentmindedly fixed his tie while they packed up.

“Don’t feel discouraged during class,” she said. “Everyone around you has been playing for years longer. Just keep practicing and you’ll get there.” Adjusting the books in her hand she asked, “Why’d you decide to take orchestra?”

“I needed art credit. Can’t sing, can’t draw, didn’t want to do something on the computer and I didn’t know what band music was,” he shrugged. Immediately, he internally cringed at his explanation.

“Wait, actually--” Before he could try and amend his previous statement, he’s cut off by her laugh.

“You chose well,” she said. Then leaning towards him, she dropped to a faux whisper, “orchestra’s better than band.”

Kuroo felt heat creep up the back of his neck while she laughed so he tilted his head to the side and covered it with a smirk. “I don’t know about that,” he said cockily.

She snorted which did little to calm the confusing beating of his heart and he couldn’t help but feel disappointed that she didn’t take the bait. Oh well, he thought, better try harder.

“You’re the one who enrolled in or-ches-tra,” she said, over enunciating the syllables. “Unless,” she sing-songed, “you feed into the stereotype that athletes are,” she pouted and batted her lashes, “stupid.”

He guffawed at her boldness but revelled in the glint in her eyes and the smug way she held her head.

“It wounds me that you would insult my intelligence without even knowing me,” he sniffed and wiped away a fake tear while she stifled a giggle. “I cannot believe my music teacher—my classmate—my captain has a bias against athletes,” he frowned and tilted his head. Pausing for a beat in contemplation, he sighed and continued lazily, “You must have been one of those kids in elementary school who always got picked last in gym.” He shrugged before delivering the final blow, “So you had no choice but to turn to music.”

He kept his face neutral as he studied her reaction. Her eyes narrowed at him and he broke out into a grin.

“It’s okay to admit it, I promise I won’t ask you to do something impossible like catch a ball or something,” he said, waving a hand placatingly. He caught the corner of her lip twitching despite the deadpan stare she tried to maintain.

“Give me your number,” she said, pulling out her phone.

“Woah, woah,” he said, dodging her attempts to force her phone in his hands. “If this was all an elaborate ruse to ask me out,” he dodged a jab to his side, “you didn’t have to get Jouda-sensei in on it too, who would’ve thought our little prodigy had it bad for the volleyball captain?”

“First of all, study hall is ending, but it seems that you were too preoccupied with trying to flirt with me to notice,” she said as Kuroo crossed his arms indignantly. Was he trying to flirt, he wondered. “Also, you’re forgetting that you’re the one who needs violin teachers,” she explained impatiently, finally getting him to accept her phone.

“Plus, if anything this just shows that you’ve been planning to confess to me for the past three years, but you were too nervous so you used your arts credit as an excuse to talk to me when everyone knows there are easier ways to get the credit,” she rambled as he punched his number in. “Also, you have a stand partner and a section leader—both of whom are not me, so I bet you,” she pointed an accusatory finger, “roped Jouda-sensei into this cozy little arrangement,” she said triumphantly.

Kuroo stuttered. “Maybe you should be a writer—what is up with your imagination?” he asked disbelievingly.

“No, no,” she said breezily, waving a hand absentmindedly, “I just figured you out, no need to feel embarrassed.”

Shifting his weight to one foot and running a hand through his hair, Kuroo’s lip quirked. “Guess you caught me,” he shrugged nonchalantly, extending their jest, “I’ve been in it for the long con, but,” he dropped a little lower to her height. “I never lose.”

Kuroo wanted to stab himself. It’s one thing, he mentally berated, to say those lines in the shower. Another thing entirely to say them to a human being? So used to provoking people just before they really got annoyed, he figured he got too comfortable. While his friends were used to his sarcastic quips and little agitations, not many people threw it right back at him. Should I apologize? Am I going to fail orchestra? Yamamoto was right, I should’ve taken sculpture I should’ve—

He was broken from his internal panic when she gently pushed his shoulder. “Well, seeing that the volleyball team has never won nationals, that seems to be a lie.”

Completely forgetting his previous anxieties, his mouth gaped open. “W-we’re definitely making it to nationals and we’re definitely going to win this year!” he nearly yelled. “A-and since when do you keep up with the volleyball team! This is more evidence that you’ve been trying to get my number for the past decade!”

“Who said anything about the past ten years!” she screeched. Kuroo watched his phone in her hand with concern as she waved her arms in disbelief. “And Yaku’s in my homeroom, idiot. He talks about the team constantly,” finally shoving his phone back to him.

Sighing a little in relief he checked his messages. “If I’m so wrong about you lusting,” she rolled her eyes so hard all he saw was white, “after me for all these years, what’s this!” he exclaimed, presenting his phone screen to her face.

It was a message from her that read: “Tetsu-chan, I think you’re so, so, so, so, sO cute!!” with several brightly colored heart emojis trailing after the message.

She immediately lunged for his phone to which he responded by smugly holding it above her head, pouting a little when she wouldn’t try and jump for it.

“Y-you planned this!” she yelled, making a move to grab at his sleeve.

“Nope,” he said languidly, smoothly side stepping her advances. “You just think I’m so, so, so, so, cute!” he said brightly as he placed his phone in his back pocket.

“I’m going to break your kneecaps in your sleep,” she grumbled.

As the bell rang and study hall ended, he sent her a little wave as he walked to his next class.

“Looking forward to it!”

.

Nearing his next class, he felt a short buzz in his pocket. Pulling out his phone he grinned at the texts. Nothing like riling people up on a Tuesday morning to get his blood pumping.

After he had left her standing in the music room, cheeks tinged pink and arms crossed, she sent him several texts. Many of them listed the ways she was going to abuse his kneecaps—he wasn’t quite sure why she was so fixated on them—poking fun at athlete stereotypes, and how he’d better practice every day.

They spent the day sending each other sporadic insults without heat which eventually devolved into actual questions about each other.

How did you start playing the violin? When did you start volleyball? Do you play in orchestras outside of school? What’s your position? How should I practice? What are sports practices like? What class are you in? What’s your favorite food? What’s your favorite color? What do you mean you bought a chemistry set for fun?

Kuroo was in his history class when he realized he was barely paying attention to the lesson. Expecting his usual meticulous notes when he looked down at his notebook, he saw he had hardly filled half a page of information. Too preoccupied with the little thrill of excitement that came with each text, he couldn’t help but discreetly check his phone every few seconds. He tried paying closer attention to the lecture, but tapped his foot restlessly, itching to see how she responded.

.

The school day ended in a blur and he found himself in front of the club room door. Violin case in hand, he swung open the entrance and proudly stated, “I learned scales today.”

“Fukunaga and I took choir last year and learned scales too,” Yaku responded. “Stop looking so proud about it, it’s literally a basic,” he commented offhandedly as he put on his uniform.

Chest still puffed, Kuroo didn’t let it deter him. “I’m reading music!”

Kenma grimaced over his phone when Lev seemed impressed and Fukunaga tried to stifle his laughter behind his hand.

Pulling top from behind, Kuroo asked, “Yaku, do you know the concertmaster?”

“The, huh?”

“The first chair violinist. Our year, in class 3-B?” Kuroo clarified. “She’s about this tall,” indicating with his hand, “her favorite color’s blue and she really likes fruit tarts?”

Ignoring the questioning glances from his teammates, Kuroo waited expectedly. Yaku paused. Eyes widening in recognition he brightened.

“Yeah! She’s been in my homeroom for the past three years, she’s nice. Smart, big on music, does a bunch of music competition thingies!”

“Thingies?” Kuroo mocked. “How old are you?”

“Shut up you glorified bean pole! I don’t know what she does in her free time, why are you so interested all of a sudden?

“She’s my violin teacher! I just wanted to make sure she wasn’t a serial killer or something,” Kuroo mumbled, tying his shoes a little forcefully.

“Okay,” Yaku drawled out, not believing his teammate. “I know the theatre club always asks her to be in their pit orchestra, but man their funding really got cut over the years, I wonder how they’re going to build the set this year, I mean they’re really trying to out-do themselves and—”

He stopped when he noticed the rest of the team staring at him in varying states of confusion and disbelief.

Yaku sniffed. “I have other interests and friends outside of volleyball, thank you very much…” he said, turning his head.

“Wow,” Yamamoto said, slowly shaking his head from side to side. “Yaku-senpai doing Shakespeare or something, could you imagine?”

“Yaku-senpai would definitely play the jester or something,” Lev chimed in. “But he’s so small would the audience even be able to see him on stage?” He wondered out loud.

Facing away from his bickering teammates, Kuroo hid his flush in the collar of his warm up jacket and willed for the heat to subside. He thought about what Yaku said—not about him being secretly into theatre, which Kuroo would definitely use in the future—but about having other friends outside of volleyball.

He knew he wasn’t as shy as he used to be, thank god, but he realized he had always kept his inner circle small. Not entirely on purpose, but those he spent the most physical proximity to tended to also become close friends—thinking fondly of his parents forcing him to meet Kenma.

He remembered how he nearly threw a tantrum when his Tou-san told him they were visiting neighbors down the street and that they had a son his age that he could play with. The thought of leaving their home—which hardly felt like home at the time of their move—to meet some stranger had filled him with such trepidation he had promised he’d practice the piano harder if he could just stay home.

However, his Tou-san gently grasped him by the shoulder and made him carry the box of oranges to Kenma’s. Multiple hours of awkward stuttering and silent game playing finally bloomed into a tentative friendship with the introduction of a volleyball and Kuroo figured that now Kenma’s more of a brother than anything else.

Outside of his team and casual school acquaintances, Kuroo thinks of Bokuto. A pleasant surprise when they met at a Tokyo training camp. With Bokuto came Akaashi and with Kuroo came Kenma and Kuroo never felt the need to expand beyond his core group. But meeting her—is different.

Different in that she stumbled into his life outside the court and he’s not sure if his fingers had ever been this sweaty from texting all day. He wondered if she’s a sign that he should actively try and meet new people but he quickly discards that idea and chalks it up to serendipity.

“—hey cut it out!” Kai yelled at Yaku lunging for Lev who was holding a volleyball in one hand, “To be or not to be, will Yaku-senpai ever grow again?”

Snapped out of his musings, Kuroo raised two hands to the group, “Alright, alright,” he tried to placate while Kai held Yaku back and Yamamoto cried tears of laughter.

“Keep going, Lev!” Yamamoto egged on.

“Too sleep, perchance to dream,” Lev continued, “that Kuroo-san will finally fix that rooster’s head of his.”

Amidst the collective roar of laughter, Kuroo snatches the volleyball from Lev’s hand and throws it at him.

.

Head lolled back against the train window, grimacing at the pull of his worn muscles, Kuroo stretched in his seat. Next to him, Kenma absentmindedly scrolled on his phone, sporadically showing Kuroo funny tidbits to pass the time on their nightly commute back home.

“Kuroo,” Kenma said as quick fingers typed out a text, “why are you taking this orchestra credit so seriously?”

Pausing for a bit, not-so-subtly reading Kenma’s text, he responded.

“I had a lesson earlier today and it seems like,” he ran a hand through his hair, “I don’t know, a disservice,” his voice rose up as a question while his brows drew together, “if I don’t give it my best shot when everyone else is so much better.”

Kuroo shrugged at Kenma’s contemplative nod.

“Anyways,” Kuroo continued, “she said thirty minutes of daily practice for a beginner will go a long way and she said we’d only really focus on the stuff for the concert so hopefully I can manage by then.”

Pausing his scrolling, Kenma looked up at Kuroo and blinked at him.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Kuroo narrowed his eyes at Kenma, having a growing suspicion of where his friend’s thoughts were, but ignored it in favor of watching him scroll through his phone.

Other passengers shuffled around them, coming and going onto their train and Kuroo looked out the window, frowning slightly at the last remnants of sunset fading away to cool indigos.

“Y’know, Kenma, I don’t think I want to just do volleyball for the rest of my life,” Kuroo said softly, breaking the stillness between them.

“No shit,” Kenma responded instantly over the animated beeping of his game. “Your joints definitely can’t take it for the rest of your life.”

Scoffing, Kuroo rolled his eyes. “Please--I mean, I’m going to go to college and still play, but,” he shifted his gaze towards the ceiling of the train car, “I want to learn more things.”

“Yes,” Kenma said slowly, “that makes a lot of sense.”

“I like learning new things, I always want to know more and I don’t know,” he pulled at his shirt collar. “With violin--it feels like I haven’t sucked at something for a while.”

With that Kenma snorted, thinking of when Kuroo tries to play video games with him or that horrendous volleyball club promotional poster Kuroo made that yes, he did take a picture of before crumpling and throwing it in the trash.

Kenma’s game pinged as Kuroo hugged his violin case between his legs.

“Plus,” Kuroo continued, “she said music is kind of like math with the rules and the counting, and when it all comes together like pieces of a puzzle it makes your hair rise and I feel like that’s kinda like volleyball too.”

“You get goosebumps when you solve a math problem,” Kenma repeated slowly.

“Missing the point there, but yes.” Contemplating a bit he added, “More when I balance a chemical reaction, but yeah, why?”

Kenma paused his game and set it on his lap, lips twitching.

“You’re not allowed to judge me,” Kuroo complained.

“I am,” Kenma responded quickly.

“Well quit it.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

Kenma popped the knuckles of his fingers and unpaused his video game.

“No.”

They sat there for a beat, each thinking about the unknowns--the unknown power of this new boss guarding the princess in the tower and the unknown of the near future, where game plays are traded for textbooks and the hopeful future of featherlight, fleeting touches and sweet, sweet melodies.

[greenbriar-j]

Muscle Memory, full wip, unedited 4.7k, scroll at ur own risk; tagging some people who showed previous interest @halleiswriting @chazzawrites @pe-ersona @druidx and also @pens-swords-stuff this is what I’ve been up to lately

Saint Joseph’s Catholic Church bustles with activity. It’s peculiar, for it being a weekday. More peculiar still that the bustling is being done by young men and women who could very well be engaging in… more satisfying summer indulgences.

The Youth Group’s power couple sweeps in an hour late, ever put together even when, by all rights, they ought to be melting right out of their fancy outfits. Cheers rise from the crowd when they appear, each splitting off in their own directions to their own stations.

Y Nhi beelines for the painters, flicking her sleek ponytail to make sure it’s out of the way. The girls hand her a brush while detailing what’s left to be done. Vinny bustles for the sound technicians - who, really, are already done for the day, but are staying for the social factor.

Two things to note about St. Joseph’s power couple:

Y Nhi isn’t sure she believes in God very much anymore.

They are not a couple, but it’s easier to let everyone think so than to correct it.

“Jude,” Mary says (everyone calls her Jude because she and Vinny made a big deal of it years ago), “Are you sure you can’t help out during the week?”

Y Nhi shrugs. She’s not busy or anything, but it feels wrong to shepherd children into a religion she’s falling out of - even if Vacation Bible School had been one of her favorite summer memories for her entire life. That’s where she met Vinny, after all.

Vinny, laughing with the guys at the sound booth. To be more accurate, Vinny himself is only smirking, but that’s as close to a laugh as he gets around here. Stupid smirk. Stupid boy.

“I have work. Unfortunately,” Y Nhi mutters, dragging her brush across a cardboard cutout. “Vinny’s taking the week off, so I’m picking up his slack.”

Mary grins widely at that. “I swear it’s like you’re married.”

For whatever reason, Y Nhi’s heart clenches at that. Picturing herself and Vinny in wedding attire on the altar sickens her, but putting a faceless someone in her place makes her feel worse. But it’s not like she likes him. She’s sworn to herself that she’d become a cat lady in her old age - her army has already begun with a fluffy black kitten. It’s not looking too good for her future; Toothless likes Vinny more than her. She’s already failed as a parent.

Belatedly, Y Nhi realizes she’s supposed to be engaging in a conversation, not thinking about Vinny and their co-parenting of a cat. If it can be called that.

“Don’t hold your breath. The wedding is a long way off,” she says tightly. Like. Never. Never is a long, long way off.

“I wouldn’t be too sure.”

This time, Y Nhi lets the comment slide. She paints while singing under her breath, as she always does. A long time ago, she had no qualms about belting it out, but time has weathered away her volume, reducing it to only this. No one’s noticed the change or found it strange.

The conversation turns to something - anything - else. Degrees, internships, other boys who don’t dress in all black and aren’t named Vincent Truong. Y Nhi listens, but doesn’t contribute.

By the time the call goes out for a lunch break, Y Nhi is finishing three tasks at once. One of the other girls brings her a burger, slathered with ketchup and mayo and tomatoes. Y Nhi thanks her and continues wrapping one of the white pillars in cardboard paper to simulate a palm tree.

Not long after, someone nudges her. Eyes flickering upward, she’s met with the bored eyes of her very best friend. “Bite.”

She doesn’t, not yet.

Vinny wiggles the burger he’s holding in front of her mouth. “Only half a slice of cheese. No tomatoes. Freshest patty of the batch. Eat.”

She still doesn’t take the bait, even though he’s tailored this burger to her weirdly specific tastes.

Vinny sighs. “Jude. No one’s watching you. I promise all they can see is my back.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about.” It’s true she had a complex about eating in public for a while, for reasons she’s never told anyone including him. “Just not hungry.”

“Not very Gucci of you to lie in the house of God.”

“Not very Gucci of you to breathe.”

“Jude! The fuck, man.” But he’s grinning. Not the half-assed grin he gives everyone else, but an honest, mirthful grin reserved for Toothless and Y Nhi only (usually Toothless. Damn cat).“Just eat this, okay? I’ll eat the other one.” His whole demeanor softens as he picks up the burger she had ignored - the one that is surely cold by now.

She is hungry. After all, the reason they were late is because Vinny had to coax her to every step of getting ready this morning. He even applied her eyeliner with the even strokes of a practiced hand - so practiced that even Y Nhi admits it looks like her own work. If she had a choice, she would waste away in bed for the day, but Vinny has never been much of a fan of that plan.

According to her own plan, Y Nhi had been wasting away since before yesterday’s dinner. Famished might be a better word to describe her present state.

But today is one of those days that she feels guilty cementing the married couple narrative any more than it needs to be. They’re not getting any younger, Vinny and Y Nhi, and just because she’s sworn off marriage doesn’t mean he has. How’s he supposed to get a nice girlfriend if she keeps hanging around?

Objectively, it’s a stupid reason to risk passing out in a church of all places, but something about him just makes her stupid. Always has.

The longer she ignores his peace offering, the twitcher he gets. He finishes his own burger in ten massive bites. When Y Nhi still doesn’t eat hers, he eats that whole thing too. “We’re leaving early. Say an hour? Think about what you want to eat.”

With that, he’s gone. Y Nhi is not hyper aware of his presence as it moves through the open space. She does not miss having him next to her. Not even a little.

-

Y Nhi writes, appetite??? in her journal when she gets home. It’s the third time something of this nature has appeared on its list which isn’t titled - but if it was it would be something like “Things About Vinny T. that Don’t Make Sense.”

Even after inhaling two burgers, he took her out for pho and Thai tea, and he ate so slow that his noodles expanded in the broth. Still, he finished a medium bowl with relative ease, and Y Nhi was content after she’d finished a small.

How does someone who eats like that look like that? It has to be some sort of stupid freaky metabolism. Genetic polymorphism, she thinks, then adds that she might be incorrectly using the term she’d heard in class about two semesters ago.

She writes freeloading on the list. It’s not technically true, but he spends enough time at her place to make it feel like it. Right this minute, he’s setting up the living room to sleep in, awaiting her delivery of the overnight bag he always leaves stocked in her apartment for emergencies.

That goes on the list too. Definition of ‘emergency.’

According to recent months, an alarming amount of things fit under this category of Vinny’s mind. It might be nearing time to stage an intervention, but who’s Y Nhi to tell him to relax when she’s the one bordering on anxiety attacks all the time? Only god knows how many times he’s clutched her shaking hands until they stopped.

Y Nhi closes the journal. Snaps the band over the cover. Shoves it under her pillow. Vinny wouldn’t dare read it to begin with, but for some reason, she doesn’t even want him to know of its existence.

Quickly divesting herself of the impeccable outfit she’d worn for the day, she slips easily into one of Vinny’s large, large shirts and the shorts she affectionately calls game day shorts. Ever since high school, she’s worn them for events that require equal amounts of comfort and courage - or just for comfort, to be honest.

“Hey, loser,” she greets Vinny, emerging from her room. He’s got her guitar in hand, and is humming some tune that she recognizes but can’t place. “Your stuff is on my bed. Have you seen Toothless?”

He nods, and keeps playing. It’s in experience, being stared at with such intense eyes while trying not to stare at the other party’s stupid pretty hands playing her guitar. Fuck him, honestly, she thinks angrily.

Leaving him there, she pours each of them a glass of water in the kitchen. A shadow looms on top of the fridge, and she jumps. “Toothless, baby. Please stop napping on the fridge.”

Toothless is not napping. He stands up, shakes his tiny body and hops to the counter, then to the floor, twining around Y Nhi’s feet before scuttling off.

Vinny is singing now. It’s a new song, she supposes, and it sounds like a love song.

Slowly, Y Nhi moves around the kitchen, making as little noise as possible while doing absolutely nothing. She just wants to listen to Vinny and his new love song without him watching her reaction.

Once she gets past the lyrics about gentle touches and midnight escapades, she realizes something. Re-entering the living room, she deposits his water on the table. “Is that my melody? Why would you steal it?”

The guitar is placed awkwardly on the floor, the neck of it leaning on the couch. “Oh, is that where it’s from? Thought it was familiar,” he says with mild disinterest. “Well, I wasn’t that attached to it anyway.”

“Are you saying it sucks?” Y Nhi settles on the floor on the other side of the table, pulling her knees into her chest. Glancing through her lashes, Y Nhi watches Vinny’s expressions.

“I’m saying I’m not taking your work, you brat.” Then he hesitates. “I mean. Can I, just for one person?”

“What the fuck.”

Vinny twitches, finally. “I… Wrote the song for someone… So I’d like to sing it for her, just once.”

Something vile rises in her throat, and she wishes Toothless would notice her distress. Hugging the cat might make her feel a little better about the fact that Vinny’s written a song about a girl using her melody - and it’s not about herself and for some odd reason, that bothers her.

“Can- Can I hear it?” Y Nhi asks in a tiny voice. It’s easier than No, you cannot take my song to sing to some other girl who will take you away from me.

“Haven’t you been hearing it?”

“Vincent.” Because that’s easier than You colossal idiot, what shit are you pulling after two years?

“Jude-”

She stands suddenly, fleeing to her room. Shutting the door, locking it, she tries to breathe. Of all people, Vinny should be the last person to push her to this reaction. She doesn’t know what to think.

Vinny knows.

Vinny knows where her hard limits are. Technically, he hasn’t passed them. But he’s pretty damn close.

Y Nhi slips into the shower, leaving it on the hottest setting to boil the emotions out.

-

For the next two days, Y Nhi doesn’t emerge from her room. Her phone dies, and she lets it. Her body self-destructs in hunger and dehydration from crying, and she lets it. She stays in bed for most of it. Whether Vinny continues to sleep on the other side of the wall for those nights, she doesn’t know. Nor care.

It’s punishment for believing she might be ready to give love another chance.

-

The third day, a letter slips under her door.

She almost flushes it down the toilet without reading it. Everything is in position to do so, paper fluttering in unsteady hands above the toilet bowl. But she wants to know. What can Vinny possibly say for himself?

Jude. I wrote the song for you. I didn’t mean to steal your tune - honest to god, I didn’t. But when I found out, I thought it was fitting that we’d worked on it together. (“Together”)

Jude, the song is up to your interpretation, but it’s yours. I wrote it from my core, and it’s yours. Charge your fucking phone and check the lyrics I sent you.

Take a shower, and call me when you’re ready. You have a few days’ worth of takeout in the fridge. Please take care of your health; I know you’re not right now. I mean it in the best way.

It cuts off there. Unceremonious and blunt, and so very him. She hates it very much.

Y Nhi charges her phone while she showers. Working quickly because she’s so unsteady on her feet, she does the bare minimum before stumbling into the kitchen for food.

While she nibbles on the stir fried noodles he left, she pens her own note.

Vinny,

I will not read the lyrics. I don’t want to know, and you don’t have to pretend it’s about me.

Your joke took two years to reach completion. Congratulations. I hope I was amusing and that my downfall wall be the stunning conclusion you wanted.

She tapes it on her front door so he’ll see it the next time he comes over. Soon, probably.

Momentarily, she wonders if she’s being rash. Is it so impossible to think that he could find romantic attraction to her?

Then she remembers. Y Nhi is not built to be loved, if her history is anything to go by. Even if she’s wrong, even if Vinny loves her for real, she will resist. Losing him this way is better than the alternative: watching him dissolve to some monstrosity while loving her.

-

Nothing changes after that. Apart from Vinny’s absence from her apartment, they interact in exactly the same way.

Vinny says something borderline rude.

Y Nhi retorts with something blatantly rude.

They laugh about it and move along.

There are no gentle touches to avoid because Vinny rarely touched her to begin with - despite the way he slings his arm around everyone else, he wasn’t like that with her. No arm around her shoulder, no hugs, not even extended contact with her hair.

Y Nhi pretends not to notice when he goes through a full dinner with an arm draped over the back of his friend Justin’s chair. He leans on it, adding the tiniest space between himself and Y Nhi. He still passes her the condiments and spices she likes before she asks for them. He takes her home at the end of it.

This should be enough. Up until now, it always had been. These tiny acts were his long distance hugs. It had always been enough, but now it isn’t, and Y Nhi doesn’t know what to do.

Isn’t this what you wanted? For him to get a life away from you?

“How’s that girl?” She asks on the way home, just because the silence is killing her and perhaps because she’s a masochist. “The one you wrote the song for?”

Vinny looks at her for a brief moment, something like grief in his eyes. It’s a confusing expression. “She hasn’t really talked to me since.”

Y Nhi tries not to sit straighter at this revelation. “Oh, really? Hm. That sucks.”

“Yeah.”

Something about the word is profoundly heartbroken. She can almost feel the emotions hurtling off him in waves, but he doesn’t lash out at her. All it does is enclose each passenger of the car in a separate bubble. This is the closest they’ve been in a long time, but Y Nhi has never felt so isolated.

Her throat constricts, and her hands start to shake. “Do you… Know why?”

Vinny thinks for a moment, tapping his fingers on the wheel. “I think she doesn’t believe me. But I don’t really think it’s me, I think she thinks that love is meant for everyone except herself. She’s pretty bent on self-destruction now, as far as I can tell - No, don’t say anything yet.”

Every girl Vinny’s talked to in the last week pops up in her mind. Which of them seems most self-destructive? If she can’t keep herself by his side, he should at least have someone who can care for him. She could talk to them, probably, if she knew who it was.

“I… She thinks this is sudden, but I’ve been in love with her since I was fifteen. Or something. Like it kind of just happened over time, and I thought she knew.”

Fifteen means Vinny’s been futilely in love with someone else while she fell for the guy who ended up cheating on her.

They were happy in high school. It was college that broke them. Distance. The communications became less frequent in an inverse relationship to Y Nhi’s alcohol intake. Her grades suffered, and she convinced herself that she was too stupid for higher education. On his birthday, she drove for hours to his dorm to surprise him, only to find him making out with another girl. Sober.

Not that any level of inebriation could excuse him, but perhaps it would’ve hurt a little less.

Vinny isn’t done. “I fucking cut fruit for her every time we hung out. I did her dishes sometimes. I don’t know, I- I thought I did everything right. My mom thought I was doing everything right.”

“You tell your mom about your love life?”

Y Nhi doesn’t. Her parents don’t care enough to know anything about it beyond that she let go of a future doctor and that she’ll never find another because she’s past her prime. That’s what it feels like, anyway.

She’s literally twenty four. She has time.

“Not really. But they’ve met.” Vinny parks the car in front of her apartment, but he makes no move to get out or to let Y Nhi get out. “Jude, listen to me.”

“I’m listening,” she says. Training her eyes on her kitchen window, she thinks about the dishes she hasn’t done yet, the fruit she hasn’t cut yet, and how she hates thinking about it because it reminds her Vinny is fading.

Human adaptability is a remarkable thing. One more week, and this new normalcy will cement itself.

“The girl I love is you. Okay? I’ve walked around the topic for years, and I understand if you’re still not ready for it. But I know you’re getting the wrong idea in that head of yours. It’s you, and it’s always been you, and I’ll spend the rest of my life proving it if you let me. I’ll also bow out forever if that’s what you need from me. But I need you to talk to me. I-”

Holy shit, is he about to cry? With wild eyes, she glances at him. If she’s made him cry, he’ll return the favor five-fold. No, she backtracks. That’s not Vinny. That’s the behavior of her second ex, the one that reduced her to a stiff puppet of a girl.

“Come back to me,” he says in a small, strangled voice. “I don’t even care if you break me in the process, but please come back to me. You can do whatever you want, as long as you do it by my side.”

For the longest moment, they say nothing. Then Y Nhi opens the car door. “Can you cut my strawberries for me? They taste better when you cut them.”

-

Vinny washes her dishes and her strawberries and quarters the already small fruit for her. He deposits the snacks in front of her and watches her eat - slowly, since they’ve just come back from dinner, after all.

“So it’s me?”

“Always has been.”

“And you never said anything.”

“I did. You ignored it on purpose.”

“No, I’m just a stupid hoe.”

“You’re not stupid. Or a hoe.”

“You’re always calling me stupid.”

“Not like that, stupid.”

“You’re going to have to undo a lot of damage if we date.”

“I know. I’ve been working on it already, didn’t you notice?”

“Yeah, but it’s gonna get worse if we date.”

“Have you considered therapy?”

“Vinny, I’ll be a pariah.”

“A happy one, maybe.” Hesitantly, he reaches for one of her hands. Halfway, he flips the palm up and waits for her to complete the gesture on her own. “You don’t have to decide right away. It’s just a thought.”

She puts her hand in his a little too eagerly, then pulls back a little too harshly. It feels like touching the flame of a candle.

A defeated look momentarily crosses Vinny’s eyes, but Y Nhi barely has the time to look at it before she steels her nerves and takes hold of his hand again. The coldness of his rings grounds her somehow. “We need a list,” Y Nhi says, “of things. First, you’re going to Google touch starvation.”

Her best friend jerks in a little victorious motion, jamming his knee unceremoniously on the table leg as he does. “Fuck, that hurt.”

“What was that about?”

“I wasn’t sure if you were actually touch starved or if you didn’t like men touching you.”

“And you didn’t ask?” Y Nhi is incredulous.

“How am I supposed to ask? ‘Jude, when I touch you, does it remind you of your sleazy ex boyfriends?’ You’d say no. Like a liar. Or so I thought.” He pauses. “Anyway, this means I can hug you now, right? 24/7.”

“If you ease into it.”

“And you’ll stop wearing those gigantic shirts that literally drown you.”

“...No. What?”

“Okay, never mind, nothing. What else? What other boundaries do we have?”

Of all questions she’s been asked today, this one is probably the most confusing. Her previous relationships are no help; she hasn’t exactly had the best exposure to “healthy relationships.” She’s aware that the bare minimum counts as decadence for her, so the question has her a little frozen.

After watching her face flicker through whatever emotions it’s displaying, Vinny rubs a thumb over her knuckles. “How about this: I have a specific thing I want your help with, and when things come up, we can talk about it.”

Y Nhi nods, though they both know she won’t talk about shit. But perhaps watching Vinny sort out whatever issue he needs sorted will give her inspiration on how to approach this. “Can we-?” She starts and stops abruptly.

Vinny blinks, then feeds her a strawberry slice. “Go ahead.” It’s a tactful move. Putting food in her mouth means she has to chew, meaning she has a few more seconds to gather herself and her thoughts, or at the very least, the desire to continue speaking.

“Can we not label this?” She finishes. “Whatever is between us.”

To her surprise, Vinny nods and acts like she hasn’t asked the bitchiest question of the night. “Sure.” You can do whatever you want, he’d said, as long as you do it by my side.

“And… Get rid of Jude.”

“What?”

“Jude. You remember why I picked that name?”

“Because of some fictional fairy queen that had the same name? You thought she was a conniving boss ass bitch and-”

“Shut up. Saint Jude. Patron saint of?”

Technically speaking, he hasn’t been wrong about the fairy queen bit. Unlike the suckers who fell for Cardan Greenbriar, Y Nhi’s wimpy ass was all in for Jude Duarte, mortal queen of the fae. And it was easier to admit that than to admit the truth that was dawning on Vinny’s face in 3… 2...

“Hopeless causes,” Vinny answers easily. Then his expression sobers. “Oh.”

Y Nhi nods. “But the me with you isn’t a hopeless cause. I don’t want her to be, anyway.”

There’s a lot that goes unsaid, but she’s certain Vinny hears it. Logically, she can’t keep relying on whatever instinct says, He’ll understand because he’s Vinny, but up to this point, it should work out okay.

Gently, he says, “Y Nhi,” reacquainting himself with the syllables of her given name. “Y Nhi.”

“Yes, Vinny?” She says just as gently.

He lowers his voice to a husky whisper, “You’ve never been a hopeless cause. You were a cause for hope.”

-

Vinny’s request is this: that Y Nhi teach him to be soft again.

The request makes her question if she and Vinny exist in the same dimension because who the hell convinced him he wasn’t soft? Hardened, prickly souls don’t master winged eyeliner for the sake of their loved ones. They don’t volunteer extra hours at Vacation Bible School while working graveyard shifts at the hospital. Don’t do the dishes because as much as they hate them, their roommate hates them more.

Vinny is soft, and Y Nhi is out for blood. “I need names, Vincent. And addresses if you have them.”

“My ex,” he says.

An awkward sound emerges from Y Nhi’s throat.

He raises an eyebrow at her. “What? I dated around. Didn’t think I should be hung up on you, but nothing ever went as planned. Anyway, my one ex did a really good job making me become someone I wasn’t. I didn’t like the person she made me, but it was kind of too late to turn around.”

Again, Y Nhi is confused. The narrative is promising, though, so she lets him continue in hopes that it’ll clear something up.

“If you don’t know me, how would you describe me?”

“Vinny.” She doesn’t have an answer, she just doesn’t want to say it. It’s not all good, and they just came back from an awkward fight. Was it a fight?

They’ve slipped back into their normal existence so easily. Nothing has changed, but at the same time, everything has.

“Just- The rings and the black and the tattoos. You’d think I drove a motorcycle or something, right?”

“You drive a Lexus. It’s the same in terms of your fuck boy vibes.”

“Y Nhi!”

“BMW would’ve sealed the deal. How many Hennessys do you drink a night, again?”

A pout settles on his face. She likes this version of him. “I see you get my point. I look like a baddie.”

“Yeah. Bad at life.”

“I swear to god.”

“Don’t do that, that’s a sin. Don’t use the lord’s name in vain and all.”

“Anyway. You of all people know I am soft, actually. She didn’t like that. And so I gained a second personality and-”

It’s rude, the way Y Nhi interrupts, but Vinny doesn’t seem to mind at all. “So if you’re always soft, what’s left for me to help you with?”

“You’ll see,” he says. “Actually. No, I’m going to tell you. I get embarrassed about my relationships. So if it ever looks like I’m pushing you away… I’m just really fucking embarrassed, at least for this first stage. Do what you will with that.”

- bonus/epilogue -

They return home for Y Nhi’s mom’s birthday. They’ve always rode home together, since they are neighbors no matter where they are. No one finds it odd that they hold hands more than before, that Y Nhi is still averse to touching everyone but him.

They appear at social events hanging on each other’s arms. Commentary about their status as a “married couple” breeze over their heads, but they never confirm nor deny anything. In public, they remain aloof to each other. They show tenderness in only the smallest of gestures.

In private, they are as they ever were. Vinny still does her eyeliner on her bad days, but now she cuddles him on the couch on his bad days. Between the two of them, there are a lot of bad days, days when they almost threw in the towel.

But they didn’t. Instead, they’ve introduced all manner of pet names (Vinny’s favorites to use are love, darling, and lately, em. Y Nhi’s favorites are Vinny and anh). They write songs to each other, for each other, with each other. Every morning, they make the choice to keep loving each other the way they have since they were fifteen - and while they joke that they wasted so much time, it was a necessary time for them to spend apart to learn how to exist together and how to choose each other even when it’s the harder choice than letting go.

Even I get lonely too

It’s not hard

Every question’s got an answer

And mine is you

Where you go then I will follow

All my life

You’re the name that I will whisper to the night

[trulivin]

On the Job

Golden Eyes Part 2 | Part 1

A/N: SURPRISE SURPRISE. Here it is! (Finally). One down, seven more to go. Sorry it’s taken so long, but I hope you enjoy this! As always, send feedback! Enjoy! I figured you guys would like this better than another update. I got a lot of this done last night so I did my finishing touches tonight. Hopefully I caught all of my mistakes! 

Also I’m thinking about doing a tag list for whenever I post imagines? Lemme know what you think.

P.S Let me know if the link works for Part 1. My computer is being janky right now. 

Kaz Brekker x Reader, Six of Crows

Warnings: Slight abuse, cursing 

*Hopefully my gif works this time*

Y/N went straight to Jesper after she left Kaz’s room. “Well hello there Ms. Sharpshooter,” Jesper bowed, jokingly as she approached. Y/N shot him a grin before asking, “So Kaz says you have a job to do and I was wondering if I could tag along?” Jesper thought for a moment, but the mischievous look on his face told her she was already allowed. 

“Hmm? Let’s see you could take anyone’s eyes out in a moment or shoot them in the head. I think you can,” Jesper replied. “Besides, we need someone to draw our target out anyways. And with those golden eyes of yours I think you can do it.” 

Y/N’s face faltered a bit, but she nodded refusing to let the idea of playing the seductress ruin this. “Great so I’ll come get you tomorrow and fill you in before we go,” Jesper smiled before heading off to the Crow Club. “Awesome,” Y/N muttered, sulking again. Of course it had to be this type of job, she thought to herself. 

“There’s the girl I was looking for!” Inej exclaimed, dancing gracefully over to Y/N, snapping her out of her thoughts. Y/N gave her a small smile and Inej’s face dropped. “What now?” she asked. “Nothing,” Y/N said as innocently as she could. “Bullshit,” Inej pursed her lips. “Nothing I swear! Kaz finally let me go on my first job with Jesper,” Y/N said. 

Inej narrowed her eyes and prompted, “But.” 

“But,” Y/N huffed, “Jesper said they needed someone as bait. And I’m said bait.” 

A look of sympathy flashed across Inej’s face, before she grabbed Y/N’s hands, leading her to her room so they could talk in private. 

Once the girls were settled, Inej said, “You don’t have to go you know. Kaz wouldn’t think anything of it.” But Y/N shook her head. “I have to go. I just got everyone to shut up,” Y/N said. “But Y/N, we both know you got the worst of it at the Menagerie,” Inej said quietly. Y/N sighed recalling all of the horrible memories. 

“Look,” Inej started, “I’m just saying, you don’t have to do this type of thing.” 

“I’ll have to at some point. Might as well be now. Besides I’ve practically been begging Kaz to let me go, and I told him I’d be fine. Do you know how embarrassing it would be if I went to him now and said ‘oh wait I can’t do this cause I’m afraid a guy is going to try and feel me up’?” Y/N mumbled. Inej gave her a funny look but said, “Kaz wouldn’t blame you. He’s not one of the nasty men. I mean he doesn’t have a conscience I swear, but he still has some respect for women.” 

Y/N snorted, “It still makes me look weak.” 

“You aren’t.” 

“I know. It’s just time. I can do this Inej. I’ll be okay.”

Inej sighed and eventually nodded in agreement. “Okay, try and get some sleep. Jesper is a hyper one to work with so you should be fully prepared,” Inej smiled, standing up. “I wouldn’t doubt it,” Y/N laughed. “Goodnight!” Inej called before floating out of her room. 

Y/N laid awake for a few more hours telling herself she was going to be fine. “It’s been over a month and you’ve been doing great,” she muttered to herself in the dark. At last, after a long while the restless girl eventually fell into a deep slumber. 

The following morning, Y/N was immediately met by Jesper. Big Bolliger was lingering in the hall behind him and Y/N assumed this was the other guy on the job. Great, she thought to herself. The guy that absolutely hates me now for almost shooting his manhood off. 

“So, you ready?” Jesper asked with wide eyes. Y/N noticed how his leg seemed to be shaking and one hand rested on his pistol, tapping on the side of it. “Uh, sure,” Y/N said. Jesper’s face split into a grin and he rushed by her. “I’ll fill you in when we get to the spot!” he called over his shoulder. 

Big Bolliger shoved past her, obviously still unhappy over the previous day, following Jesper out. Y/N felt a pair of eyes on her and turned to see Kaz making his way down the steps towards Per Haskell’s office. His impassive expression was back, but his eyes were burning with something else. Anxiousness? Concern? Anger? 

No not anger. He’s always mad at something, Y/N told herself. Catching his eye for a moment, she silently told him she was going to be okay before hurrying after Jesper and Big Bolliger. 

Kaz stopped on the landing in front of Per Haskell’s office, finding Y/N’s eyes. Quickly, he found the girl staring at the entrance where the two boys just went through. He could tell she had doubts about going, but he knew she wouldn’t back out much to his dismay. As if she could sense his presence, Kaz saw her turn around and her golden eyes met his. He sucked in a breath and silently wished she would come up to him and say she wasn’t ready and that she changed her mind. 

Unfortunately, the look in her eyes told him the opposite. He saw her eyes soften at the sight of him, but just as quickly as they found his, they pulled away, and Y/N flitted out the door and into the sunlight. 

Unbeknownst to Kaz, Inej saw the whole exchange and grinned at the thought of Y/N and Kaz. 

Y/N eventually caught up with Jesper, having to walk at a very brisk pace. “Saints! Slow down Jesper,” she exclaimed, finally reaching him. “Keep up golden-eyes. I’m in charge today and I set the pace,” Jesper snickered. Y/N glanced around nervously. She felt too exposed weaving in and out of the hustle and bustle of Ketterdam. 

“What exactly is the plan?” She asked. “Wait no, what exactly is it we’re doing?”

“We need to get this slummy little Ravkan trader to cough up some coins he owes Kaz,” Jesper said, “But he is smart enough not to travel by himself because he knows how Ketterdam is. A real con artist if you ask me. Not a very loyal Ravkan considering he hoards most of the kruge for himself instead of actually giving it to his boss.” 

Y/N nodded, trying to dodge more bodies. It was already hot enough with the sun beating down on them. How in the world does Kaz wear a tie everyday? Y/N thought to herself. 

“So,” Jesper continued, “Your job is to get the guy away from his little friend.” Y/N looked around as her, Jesper, and Big Bolliger made their way to a table in front of a little bakery across the street from some club. Y/N was tense. It felt ten times hotter already, and she was very unnerved at how quiet Big Bolliger had been this entire time. 

“There’s an alleyway, just over there,” Jesper pointed diagonally across the street to the left, a few buildings down from the club. “You need to get him over there where I’ll be covering the backside. Big Bolliger will cover where you enter the alley and we’ll handle it from there. Easy peasy,” Jesper concluded. 

Y/N didn’t say a word thinking about how she would have to lure him away from his friend. Tante Haleen’s voice rang out in her head, “Be a serpent girl. Draw them in with those eyes and then strike. The men love it.” 

“You know,” Jesper’s voice snapped her out of her thoughts, “If you aren’t comfortable with this you don’t have to do it. We can find another way.” Y/N glanced at Big Bolliger and he was eagerly waiting for her response. She would not give him the satisfaction. 

Y/N shook her head, “No, I can do this. I’ll be fine. Easy peasy, like you said.” Jesper gave her a wary look but nodded his head. Big Bolliger, however, had a look on his face that ran shivers up Y/N’s spine. He was betting on her to fail so he could chew her out and get her back for yesterday. Y/N gulped and sunk in her seat watching the crowd roll by and trying not to vomit all over the table. 

After about thirty minutes of waiting, Jesper nudged her arm, “There he is.” He pointed to two fairly pale, slimy looking school-boys. The target was the taller of the two, but almost sickly like. The boy had absolutely no muscle on his body, but had a slight gut popping out from his stained shirt. 

“That’s the con artist?” Y/N asked in complete shock. She stifled a laugh as Jesper rolled his eyes. “Yes he doesn’t look like much, but that guy is pretty good at what he does. His friend on the other hand is just along for the ride,” he said. 

“Jesper, this guy is like our age,” Y/N burst out laughing. “Yes yes I know. But Kaz needed him to run something to another guy. Then the other guy made the mistake of telling him to take money back to Kaz and well you get the idea,” Jesper said. 

“Let’s go,” Big Bolliger snapped, interrupting their conversation and standing up, walking away before the two could say anything. Jesper and Y/N then stood up and he turned to Y/N one last time. “Look it’ll be ok. We’ll be just around the corner and will be on the guy as soon as you get him in the alley,” Jesper smiled at her before disappearing in the crowd. 

Y/N took in a nervous breath before making her way towards the two guys in front of the club. Putting up her best facade, she waltzed up to them, eyes on the taller one. “Win good, boys?” Y/N smirked, batting her eyes. Everything inside of her was screaming to run. 

The two Ravkans eyed her curiously, but the target took the bait. “No not today, sadly,” he said with a thick accent. “Oh that’s too bad,” Y/N pouted, resting a hand on his shoulder. The guy reeked. 

“I’m sure there are other ways to make up for it though,” she whispered, biting her lip. Gag. The man liked where this was heading, and allowed his hand to slip over her back, grabbing her waist and pulling her close. Y/N stiffened as his hand slid dangerously low. 

She pushed aside her fear and said, “Why don’t we go somewhere a little more private? I’m sure your friend won’t mind.” The guy smirked and turned to his friend, speaking something in their native language. She only understood bits of Ravkan, but this was surely something she didn’t want to hear. The two guys shared a disgusting look and high-fived before he said, “All set.” 

“Wonderful,” Y/N muttered as she turned her back to him, pulling him towards the alley. The guy stayed very close behind her. Y/N felt the weight of his hand on her lower back, slipping ever so slightly lower. She suppressed her shutter and kept telling herself, just a few more feet. Memories of slimy men flipped through her mind like a movie, and Y/N felt as if the walls were closing in around her. 

Every step she took, Y/N heard the comments about how such a little girl was so beautiful, but along with that Tante Haleen’s words echoed through her mind as well. Every beating, every client who made her cry, everything terrible. 

But one voice kept her walking, ignoring the man’s hand, ignoring his breath on her neck. I don’t want to see you get hurt like that again. You don’t deserve it. Kaz’s voice was the loudest of them all. She didn’t know why, but she didn’t care. He kept her from drowning, and his voice gave her that sense of hope that she could make it through this. 

Y/N felt a wave of relief rush through her as she could see the alley maybe six feet in front of her now. She turned towards the Ravkan and gave him a mischievous grin. He took the bait yet again, grabbing her waist and pulling her close. His head found the crook of her neck and started placing wet, nasty kisses. Y/N had to physically hold back her puke. 

Just as they were about to stumble into the shadows, a very familiar voice rang out, “Is that my serpent?” Y/N froze. Tante Haleen was staring directly at her with an ice cold glare. “You bitch!” she shrieked. The Ravkan pulled away from her and gave her a confused look. “You know this girl?” he asked the Peacock as she was approaching them. “Oh I know this one all right,” Tante snapped. “She wanted out of my house for the longest time. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s playing you right now! She doesn’t like when men touch her,” she sneered.

The Ravkan glanced around nervously. Y/N couldn’t move or speak. “If you’re going to act like this then I’ll just bring you back to where you belong!” Tante Haleen screeched pushing through the crowd. The Ravkan took one more glance at Y/N before bolting. Before Y/N had known what happened though, Big Bolliger’s body slammed into the Ravkan and dragged him into the alleyway, not before shoving Y/N onto the ground. Tante Haleen reached the girl on the ground and yanked her up by her hair. Memories of the night Y/N took the beating in public resurfaced. 

“I told you I’d take you back in chains,” the woman snarled in Y/N’s face. Tante’s hand ran across her cheek and Y/N could feel the tears burning in her eyes. She slapped her repeatedly and threw the girl back on the ground. You don’t deserve it. 

Y/N’s head cleared as soon as she heard Kaz’s words echo through her mind. They were as clear as day. “No,” Y/N mumbled, finally able to form words. 

“Excuse me?” 

“No,” Y/N said more firmly, meeting the woman’s gaze. “I will not!” 

Instinctively, Y/N kneed the woman in the stomach and sent her crumbling to the ground. She knew how to fight back. “I’m not scared of you anymore,” Y/N hissed, kicking Tante square in the face. The woman was knocked out cold. Y/N shook herself out and ran into the alley.

Big Bolliger had the Ravkan pinned up against the wall as he was struggling to get something from his pockets. “Thank you, thank you,” Jesper said as the guy handed him two pouches. “Alright I think we got it all,” Jesper said after counting. Y/N let out a sigh of relief as Big Bolliger let the man drop. The Ravkan immediately took off in the opposite direction and disappeared around the corner. 

However, Big Bolliger then rounded on her. He came storming at her, shoving her against the wall. She felt his hands close around her throat. Everything was starting to cave in on her again and her mind went back to awful times when men pulled stuff on her like this. “Whoa whoa!” Jesper exclaimed trying to pull him off, but he just shoved him out of the way. “What the hell was that?” Big Bolliger snarled in Y/N’s face. Y/N found herself at a loss for words again, partially from being strangled at the moment.

“You try an act all tough, but I see right through you. And you just proved it! You could’ve ruined the whole job, bitch,” his words cut through her like a knife. “All you’ll ever be is some whore that Brekker decided to pull off the streets for himself.” Ouch. 

“Dude, let her go, she did fine,” Jesper interjected. Big Bolliger glared at Y/N for a moment longer before releasing her. Y/N collapsed, coughing and gasping for air. Jesper knelt down beside her placing a hand on her back, but she flinched away from him. 

Big Bolliger snorted, “I guess I was wrong. Can’t even take a man’s touch. Looks like you can’t even be a whore right.” Y/N felt tears start to fall. Why did Kaz pick her? She thought miserably. 

“That’s enough!” Jesper snarled at Big Bolliger. “Let’s go.”

“Whatever. It’s your funeral when Brekker finds out what happened,” Big Bolliger shoved past Jesper and disappeared back in the crowd. “C’mon,” he said gently, but did not touch the shaking girl. Y/N slowly stood, feeling the throbbing in her neck from his fingers. She still felt like she couldn’t breathe. There were probably marks left too. 

Jesper and Y/N made their way back to the Slat slowly. Big Bolliger was already back by the time the pair came in. Kaz’s jaw locked as soon as he caught sight of Y/N’s face. He was not happy. Inej was by her side in an instant, “What happened?” Y/N just shook her head and made her way over to where Kaz and Big Bolliger were sitting. Jesper laid the bags down in front of Kaz as Big Bolliger said, “We were lucky I got there in time. What were you thinking sending her on a job?” 

He felt pretty confident with Kaz. “I mean, she froze and almost lost the guy cause what?” Big Bolliger faced Y/N again. Kaz noticed how she physically shrunk away from his gaze, her golden eyes wide with terror again. Kaz also saw light bruising around her neck and her face stained with tears and red marks. 

“Cause the woman from the Menagerie came to talk to her,” Big Bolliger answered before Y/N could. If she could even speak. Kaz got the sneaking suspicion that the bruises around her neck were not from the Peacock though. His hard gaze turned back to Big Bolliger. 

“What happened to her neck?” he growled. Big Bolliger’s face went pale, but he didn’t answer. “What happened to her neck?” Kaz repeated, his anger rising. When no one answered, Jesper stepped in, “This lunatic grabbed her and threw her up against the damn wall! We got the job done didn’t we?” He exclaimed. 

Y/N had never seen it before, and she was sure no one else had either. Kaz completely lost it. The table was flipped in front of him and Kaz’s cane collided with Big Bolliger’s face. “What the hell!” He cried in pain. “I stepped in when she froze up! She needed to be put in place.”

Kaz kicked Big Bolliger in the stomach causing him to hunch over in pain. “You know damn well the job got done and was successful. She got the guy over to you. I don’t care if you’re the strongest, the biggest, the whatever, you do not lay your hands on her again if you want to keep them. Suck up your pride and get over what happened yesterday,” Kaz hissed, leaning over the quivering boy, with a fistful of hair in his hand. “And get the fuck out.”  

No one dared utter a word as Kaz lifted himself up from his squatting position. Big Bolliger’s face was swollen and his eyes were now swimming with fear. Y/N had never seen Kaz so angry, and the worst part was that his eyes burned with fury much like Tante Haleen’s did whenever she disobeyed. 

“Don’t you all have other stuff to do?” Kaz snapped. The crowd broke apart as everyone scurried away like mice. Inej clung to Y/N’s arm as Kaz turned to the two girls. “Go, Inej,” he said through gritted teeth, obviously not trying to yell at his Wraith. They stared at each other for a hard moment as if she was challenging him. Eventually, his eyes narrowed and he huffed, “I’m not going to hurt her.” 

Inej still didn’t budge. 

“It’s okay,” Y/N said quietly to her as Kaz glared back. After a moment, Inej dropped her gaze and muttered, “You have a real bad habit of saying everything is okay when it isn’t.” “I know, but this time it is,” Y/N managed a strained smile before removing her arm from Inej’s and moving silently over to Kaz. For the first time in the entire day, Y/N finally felt safe. 

Too many of the wrong hands had been on her and she didn’t want to feel suffocated anymore, and with Kaz, that’s exactly what she could get. He glanced at Y/N before heading back up the steps. 

Soon enough, he and Y/N found themselves back in his room just as they were the previous day. This time Y/N finally broke down as soon as the door was closed. The horrible memories of every beating came back to her, and the stench of the Ravkan filled her nose again. Before she could stop it, she finally spilled the contents in her stomach. 

When it was all out, she felt sufficiently better and stared at the nasty puddle of puke on the floor and realized what she had just done. “I am so sorry,” Y/N looked up at Kaz who seemed to be grimacing a bit, refusing to look at the floor. “I--” Y/N’s voice died in her mouth. 

“No, no, it’s uh fine. I’ll make someone else clean it up. I’m honestly surprised you lasted this long anyways,” Kaz groaned a bit motioning her to move away from the puke. He moved her to the window sill and pushed the window open to let some fresh air in. Y/N sat down as Kaz rested a hand on the frame of the building above his head. 

The fury in his eyes were gone as he studied her tired looking features. There was a prominent bruise forming on her face and a little cut under her eye. His jaw locked again as his eyes wandered down to her neck, where an outline of Big Bolliger’s fingers bruised her neck. 

Y/N squirmed under his gaze as she felt her face heat up. But he still said nothing. He honestly didn’t know what to say. 

Finally, Y/N locked eyes with him, and she saw him take in a sharp breath. It was her eyes, gold as ever. 

“Look, I know what you’re thinking. I’m fine now. Yes I almost lost the guy, but I mean that damn woman,” Y/N started. “I don’t blame you,” Kaz interrupted. “You don’t have to do that,” Y/N hissed. Kaz seemed a bit taken aback at her outburst, but let her continue.

“You don’t need to baby me. I know I screwed up, but you babying me isn’t going to fix anything. We got the job done, I froze. That’s what happens to people like me. I’m broken, Kaz. I still don’t get why you picked me!” Y/N declared, standing up. “I’m broken. It’ll always be like this for me! Maybe I’ll get better but that pain will still be with me. I haven’t seen my family in years, I’ve been beaten, raped, tortured by the hands of disgusting men. I am completely and utterly--”

“Your eyes,” Kaz said softly, interrupting. 

“Wh-what?” Y/N asked, caught off guard at his response. 

“It was your eyes. That’s why I picked you. There was something about you that night. It,” he paused for a moment, taking a hesitant step closer to her. Y/N could feel her heart pounding out of her chest. 

“It reminded me of myself when I was younger,” Kaz admitted. They were chest to chest right now, and he was looking down at her with dark eyes. He closed his eyes for a moment and said, “It reminded me of when my brother died and who the person I was then. I--I used his body as a float. His dead body. All the way back to the mainland,” Kaz took a shaky breath, but continued, “But you. You were me. You were the little boy fighting to survive under the worst conditions. You were that person who didn’t deserve what the world threw at you. The person who didn’t have anyone to protect him. The person who had absolutely no one.” 

“Kaz…” Y/N whispered. He opened his eyes and saw tears running down her face again. Kaz brought a hand up, pausing. Taking a deep breath, he pulled his glove off revealing his slender hands. Y/N had always seen them from far away whenever it was just them, but never this close. She noticed the little scars that decorated his fingers and palm. Just like mine she thought. 

Kaz brought his hand back up to her face and she noticed he was slightly trembling. Y/N wanted to move because she knew he was uncomfortable. She didn’t want to put him in this position. But another part of her wanted to see what he’d do next. Her skin began to itch where his fingers hovered. 

Kaz wanted to do this. He knew what he did and that sick feeling began rising in his stomach without his gloves. Images of Jordie’s corpse flashed through his mind, but he stared into those liquid gold eyes. They were filled with warmth, not the cold water that nearly killed him. His mind screamed, begged him to put his safety net back on, but he wanted to feel her. And he wanted her to feel him. Not the mask of cool and rough material that could have easily reminded her of the rough hands in her past. 

Y/N didn’t dare move. She just let Kaz do what he needed. The next thing she knew, his fingertips were tracing the little scar next to her eye and down her face. For a moment, he allowed her cheek to rest in the palm of his hand while his thumb wiped away a stray tear. His hand was warm on her face and surprisingly soft. She had seen what those hands could do to a person, but  with her, they were gentle. He wasn’t the Bastard of the Barrel right now. He was Kaz Brekker. 

Kaz Brekker. The boy, Y/N had fallen hopelessly and completely in love with. 

And she was the girl with the golden eyes who he had, and would never admit to anyone, fallen head over heels for. 

He was pleased that she didn’t flinch under his touch, but as easily as those eyes melted away that drowning feeling, they still weren’t enough. He let his hand trail down to the bruises on her neck before letting it fall to his side. 

Y/N felt cold air rush around her and she longed for that feeling of warmth. But, she didn’t want to push it. 

“It’ll take time,” Kaz said quietly. She knew what he meant. And he knew she would. “Me too,” she whispered, a small smile on her face. 

Kaz’s mouth quirked up a bit as he saw the brightness in her eyes return. 

And for that moment, they were content in each other’s presence, neither asking for anything more than what they could give in that exact moment. 

_______________________________________________

I hope you all enjoyed this! That last scene with them I was listening to ‘A Thousand Years’ by Christina Perry when I was writing to it, and that LITERALLY made it ten times better so I recommend going back and reading it while listening to that song lol. 

[ballerinaroy]

insecurities

A/N: Hi friends! This week has been a whirlwind as I’ve officially started a new dream job. I don’t know what my posting schuele is going to look like as I adjust to being a professional again, but in the meantime enjoy this lil’ snippet from something longer I’m working on. 

Summary: As Ron and Hermione plot out their first time, druding up some of Ron’s deep-seated insecurities.  

Ron is still convinced every time he gets Hermione alone that someone will burst in on them. By some miracle it hasn’t happened yet. But, it’s got him hyper alert to the point that he worries that if the times comes, when the time comes, that he won’t be at full attention.

“What’s wrong?” Hermione asked, her bottom lip pouting as she pulled away from him.

“Nothing,” Ron assured her quickly, diving back in to her neck.

“Ron,” She protested. “Tell me, am I doing something wrong?”

“What?” he asked, “No, of course not.”

“It’s just,” she sighed, pushing herself up so she was sitting up against his headboard. “I don’t know, it doesn’t feel like you’re into it.”

“I’m worried we’re going to get walked in on.” He burst out. “I know we haven’t, but-” 

“Oh,” Hermione said, looking serious. She bit her lip, one finger tracing his jaw. “Then we should get a hotel.”

Ron felt his eyes pop out of his head and his voice sounded rather strained. “We should?”

With an expression he’d always associated with Hermione breaking the rules and being excited about it, she bit her lip and nodded.

“We can’t get a hotel.”

“And why not?” she pouted. “Oh, come-on, we’re adults-“

“You tell that to mum-“

“-And I think it could be romantic, just the two of us.”

“Oh, is romance what you’re after here?”

“Think about it,” Hermione said, shaking his arm. “Our first time should be special. And that way I wouldn’t have to sneak out after, we could really spend the night together.”

“First time?” he asked, mouth suddenly dry.

“I haven’t,” she said and he bit his cheek, shame rushing through him. “No, Ron, I just meant our, first time.”

He didn’t say anything still, but his silence answered the question.

“Oh,” she whispered, feeling suddenly very exposed and crossed her arms to cover her bra.

At last Ron sat up too, passing her his shirt and they sat, arms flush, without looking at one another. He wasn’t sure what to say, where to begin. He should have known it would come up eventually, only he wasn’t quite sure how to talk about shagging his ex-girlfriend who was dead.

Bracing himself he asked, “So, what do you-“ just as Hermione asked, “When did you-“

They both stopped, meeting each other’s eyes and gave strained grins.

“Er, it happened right before the holiday,” Ron said, twisting his hands together in his lap. “We’d been doing stuff, I mean about a month in she gave me a-“

“I don’t want details,” Hermione told him quickly.

“Right,” he said, his face feeling even hotter. “Sorry, er, like I said, right before the holiday. Which, you know, wasn’t the best plan. I mean, it wasn’t a good plan at all. I felt weird after. She kept saying it would bring us closer together, and everyone thought we were anyway, which isn’t a good reason, so the night of Slughorn’s party-“

He felt the air leave Hermione’s lungs and he dare not look at her.

“Anyway, we did it, and then a few times after that and well…”

Thick silence descended upon them once more. He was too afraid to look at her, afraid to see the expression on her face.

“Does this change things?”

“What?” Hermione asked, “No, of course not.”

At last it felt safe to look at her and found her expression completely and utterly confusing.

“I just didn’t know,” Hermione said, “I mean, I suspected, but I didn’t know.”

Relief coursed through his body. “Is there anything else you want to-“

“No,” Hermione said firmly, shaking her head. “There’s not.”

Yet she didn’t seem inclined to share her mind for as they sat there, her look became even harder to read.

“Hermione?” he braved, reaching for her hand.

“Sorry,” she blinked, “I was just sitting here thinking how horrible we were to one another.”

“You think I’m horrible?” he asked, half joking.

“No, I think you’re wonderful,” she said, giving his hand a squeeze. It felt safe at last to put his arm around her, their fingers laced. “It’s just in school, all the things we said to one another, the things we did.”

She frowned down at a scar on his arm. It was hard for him to distinguish now where the plethora of thin white lines had originated yet he had no doubt she knew exactly where the one she kissed had come from.

“Why do you think that was?” Ron asked, though he had his own theories. “The horribleness.”

“Well, at first I think you just thought I was a know-it-all.”

“You are a know it all,” he clarified, kissing the top of her head even as she made a noise of dissent. “And then you got pretty and started getting other boys attention.”

Hermione let out a hollow laugh. “Pretty? And I hardly think Krum constitutes as other boys.”

“Right, famous international quidditch players, that makes it better.” Ron clarified, just to get a rise out of her.

“Anyway,” Hermione said tensely, not taking his bait. “And then sometimes it was that we couldn’t agree on what was best for Harry.”

“And then there was by own self doubt,” Ron said.

Hermione looked at him, surprised, but didn’t interrupt.

“It never felt like I was enough,” Ron said, speaking for the first time the thoughts that had kept him up at night. “Growing up I had all these amazing brothers, and then I met Harry, and you were incredible at school so I never stood a chance. I was never the best at anything.”

“I had no idea,” Hermione whispered and she looked horrified. Instantly it felt that he’d gone too far and he tried to adopt a joking tone.

“Oh, come on Hermione, we all know your marks are better than mine.”

“Ron,” she protested, letting go of his hand and sitting up so he had to look at her. “I had no idea you felt that way.”

He struggled against another quip and suddenly felt rather queasy.

“Of course you’re the best at things.” Hermione insisted. “You’re a good chess player-“

“Just because I have lousy opponents-“

“And you’re a good friend, the best friend in fact, I mean Harry’s fine, but he’s pretty lousy at being there when I need someone but you-“

“It’s alright, Hermione,” he assured her.

“No, Ron, you’re the bravest person I know,” she said, and he was stunned to find tears in her eyes. “Ron, you saved me. You saved my life. When I fell unconscious in that ball room, I thought that was it. I thought I had died and then you were there, shifting through shards of crystal and candle wax. You could have left me there, but you didn’t. You saved me.”

“Anyone could have-“

“But it was you.” She whispered and he suddenly he was aware of every heart beat, every breath and he gripped her arms to keep himself steady. “Ron you are the most amazing person I have ever met. And it hurts to hear you talk like that because it’s not how I see you, it’s not how anyone sees you.”

“I love you Ron,” she whispered, and a sudden smile spread across her lips.

“Funny,” he attempted.

“Stop it,” she commanded, even as her smile grew and a nervous giggle escaped her. “Oh, God I swear I’m not…I’ve been trying to figure out for days how to tell you and…God I feel…Ron I love you.”

And he believed her. From the hurried tone of voice, to the worry in her eyes, right down to the giddy smile on her face.

“That’s good,” he told her. “I mean, I love you too. Of course I do.”

And he did. Without a doubt he knew that he loved her. His heart felt light and full at the same time and there was nothing left to do but kiss her. Long and hard and doing so he tried to pour back into her a fraction of the love she had just given him.

Never before had he spoken about the deep insecurities that had crippled him. Always too afraid that they’d be dismissed or mocked. He should have known that Hermione would counter with a well thought out argument. He loved her. God, he loved her.

“So,” he said, breaking off suddenly, “About that hotel.”

[throwingideasatthewall]

Star Wars   Episode 4;

    Destroy malevolence

Didn’t we just do that?

I’m assuming this is going to be focusing on the     aftermath of the        destruction       of  the        malevolence

And the preceding unraveling of       general grievous’s      net work

 [And several        acquaintances         probably          trying           to    break    him  out,]

Anyway...

On with          It!

       Quote;

  “A Plan is only as good         as those          who see it out,”

   Odd                 I’ve      Stopped      giving much stock        into the    quotes

 Consider ing     the last one     had a relatively good      one

 And     Is on the    lower     end    of     my     expectations

 My criticism       of this       Is a       Short    Plans can be good         But   People flawed

  The   narrator   sounds     a    bit    more   enthusiastic

 Weirdly      drawn     out      pause

But      it   does     get     the      point   across

 Allows   enough     time

“ Grievous          in       retreat,”              Honestly           Is        this       where       we’re      going        to       start

    Like       no      disrespect-         (I have the       patience)    But are we honestly going to spend the whole entire time watching Obi-Wan fuck up catching Grievous?

 That would work       with the theme         of       Jedi Masters

They make it seem a lot less   stupid

[Recap

 Also        I really like the movement on the     ship

Much     more     real istic 

       Continuing to          Hold on it       not so much

  This is like         someone     continuously          kicking        someone         when they’re         already         down

Or like a fire

 After a while      it just gets sort of    boring

 Or worrying

 And you realize they could  just     take them   into custody

 Or that the fire is starting to     envelope   nearby    forest     With       everyone      having         a bucket of     water

Obi wan, why

 Do     you   torment    so?

He can’t even   die

If so;      He’d     be dead

 I love how       Plo Koon       and       him       are          just    watching      the      shit     show      like            “Bitch”

   You know they could both take         him

  But are just that dedicated to being   sandry old man

“Commander, how much damage to the      enemy ship?”

 Have they suffered    enough?

  Also, geez dude’s been demoted it to       commander

    I mean I know he’s just       Comms Guy              But geez.         (He probably       deserved it)

Oh no,        Random     dude          On          The       ground

    Why?

 “ She’s lost primary       shields and stabilizers,”

   So shooting at it is doing      minimal damage

             “ It can take all the fire               our cannons                  can manage,”

           Okay,                    time to get you two                down there

           “ we must     summon            reinforcements,”

     Plo is slowly becoming that we          “need reinforcements”            guy

      Like          he can’t do anything           by himself

       (Except           for last           episode)

     “ That’s why          I’m here        Master Plo,”

  That’s not the right       tone

   And.....          I was kind of hoping we’d get a        Master Plo and        Obi-Wan episode

   This time       around

   Never mind the fact that         Anakin can’t take on grievous

   “ what are you able to contact              Master               (Liam Niara)                   (That’s how voice text spells it)                (I have no idea)

        “ Yes, master,”

       That’s better

    “She’s busy with a bunch of separatist         reinforcement’s nearby,”

   Bit too much     eye movement       but otherwise      good

  “ she won’t       be able to give us support till she’s turn        ing them away,”

Meanwhile         you’ve already pretty much      kill ed         him

    Guess            just         play        poker?

   Then        we’ll  have to do with what we have

   Oh now with the teenager around you’re so brave

  How’s        that going to help?

Burning

On fire

Really, no   mercy

Poor     droid     jerking   around

Ex     ploding

Perfect balance of kar       mic   pay       back

“We’ve      lost      our    primary       weapon,”

  Shit     just     continues    to                get       worse      and      worse

General     grievous      is        just              there        with his hands       in his head

Not        looking       too    great

“ The hyper drive is dis   -abled,”

It’s been disabled since last episode but good     repeating

Good      to         re-iterate

“Argh,”

“ General       general,”

   The     forward   engines        are     shutting     down

“ im   poss     ible,”

Dude,     look         around

That’s   pretty        -         heavy         denial

You     should     just     sur       -render

More Sho              -oting

 This        is       going         to         be        a         sl   -ow       ep      i      sode

Ahsoka       Managing       systems

   A not    bad role       for her

 Certain-

“ Admiral            Status-        Re        port,”

    Shit’s         fucked        once        again

    They’re           hyperdrive         must        be       damaged

    What          you         didn’t         figure          out           the           first          time          will        Obi          won         must’ve         checked

   Compulsively             For the         170th time           in the last           hour

     “This            our          chance”

It wasn’t a few seconds ago?

     “all         ships        target       the      bridge     maximum         fire        power,”

   Dude,        what       do       you      think      that’ll        do

 Grievous         is      made          out        of      pure        titanium

   It’s       like..          a      slightly         long       fall           for      him..

 Generals..     really     don’t    wanna     deal     with   Grievous’s      shit     today

Episode is     22:40      Long       Left

 All     they’re     doing       is     shooting    at     him

Grievous     Called      Dooku

“Dad      I       crashed       the     car,”

Sustained     advanced   damage

 “ I know,”

Just     dead   panned

“ I have     arranged         a       trap,”

Oohh!     Interesting

  But     Also        completely        bullshit

   Guess       this            is           his       punishment

  Being       used        as        bait

  “To     give     you      an     advantage    over       the   Jedi,”

 “ I   assure   you,”

 Please       no

You’re not compound     your failure     this day,”

 Ah, there’s       the chewing out     I was looking for

 Perfect

Continue

 “ war       ship        to       fall,”

 Oh so it wasn’t going to be a - get them sent to prison- thing

 So     how are you planning to       unfuck                 the situation

Cause      this looks pretty bad

  They will never catch me or this ship

             Bless him               he’s trying

              The expression just says                 ‘I have no idea               how’

           Like              He            knows           what’s          expected            of          him          but         has         no          idea

    How?!

   Heading       towards          you         is          a        very      important      galactic        senat        or,”

   In the middle of a       war zone

Seriously       not        a     good       time      for         a   photo     op

 “ With      her         as        a      hostage,”

  “call       off       the      attack,”

  Ok no one is calling off an      attack this important      for        a   senator

  Nor     should      be    letting      her        get    captured         ....

 *Bowing    down*

*Assumed authority*

 Blue

 It   looks   remarkably    better     this     episode             👍     Also        of        course        it’s      Padme        Amidala     Couldn’t        be        any      of      the    4000     other    senators       we     know     nothing      about              

   Really           getting       into         the      love     triangle      stuff      right        away,           aren’t         we?

  Like       why   couldn’t      we     slow     burn        it

 (I   know    she    was       in    the   movie)     But

  I     wouldn’t         mind    “Are   you       sure   the     infor   mation      from     the     chan cellor     Palpatine       is   reliable?”

Fore     shadowing!

Good    job     authors       you       get      a   cookie

“ it was secretly given to him         by the leader of the     Bank-he Clan,        himself!”

 Okay        Amidala’s          tone      kinda      works

 Could      use       a       little       more   monotone     but      it   works

   I gave Anakin like      three   tries       so       I’m     not   gonna       be    too     harsh

There        is       still       time      for      the     minimal     improve      ment        it      needs

“ if they       leave     the   separatist     alliance     it     will    go     along      way       to   shortening   this   war,”

Er-     Okay      it   makes   sense   for     her   character

 She’s sup   posed      to be   around      the same       age      as   Anakin

“Beep,       Beep,”

 “ We’re     approaching       the     system       now,”

  “Oh     shit,”

Crud

 “ my   goodness,”

  Best      Droid

 “This        isn’t        right,”

   Then        Move!

   That’s          a       droid     warship

    “We’re          in         the       middle          of          a       battle!”

   Hey,        that’s          a        smart      character

   Hyper drive out of there

  “ we’re scanning         a small ship off         our bow,”

     Get out of        there   “ Good,”

 Yeah, how are you going to get     her?

 Seeing as how  like a million warships are belting     your bow?

  I know those must be like       raindrops to him

But     come on

Don’t      go    into    the    burn     -ing      wreckage

   And       towards      enemy        fire

 Then   again     she     was     probably    heading     towards      the     Jedi        ship

   So     (as       a   civilian)       that       makes          sense

   “Master          I’m        picking           up            a         signal          near           the         enemy        vessel,”

   Tone

    Enemy     reinforcements

   That’s-            A         Good          Call

Respectively

 “ it looks like-”

 “A Naboo ship”

  “Gunners        stand         day,”

     Hey      everyone’s     competent         today!

      (Not          that         there’s           anything         wrong          with          enablers           being           stupid)

       This          just           requires          more          brain       power

   “ what          in      Blazers        are       they      doing      out     here?”

   A valid     response

  But      weren’t       they         the       ones        that        pledged        transport        ships?

  Like      oh      yeah      stupid going out into a war zone

   But     not      completely      out of the question

 “ Ahsoka      contact         that ship,”

  Bit      too      much      energy

    But       still         resp        ect           able

     Literally          coming        from        fiery        hell

     Identify        yourself

  “Padme       what        are       you       doing      out     here,”

  Cringe

   That line sounds like boomer.        What boomers think high school      jocks sound like

   And we’re like  no

  “ I       was       sent      on         a    special    mission,”

  Good      job     Writers

  The        ‘Bang he         Klan        Wanted        to negotiate        a treaty

   Good      reason

   “Get       out        of      there,”

  Too        Force        ful

   Better        Idea;        Have     Obi-Wan         try         to         calmly      explain         the         situation            to           her

      Possibly       distracting          her for        general       grievous           to       kidnap

   “ Activate              the         tractor         beam,”

     Damn        we’re       going        back         to  old old sci        Fi- with tractor beams and       shit

     I was expecting like a hook and chain,     a harpoon

   Was not expecting   that

     That        made        me         laugh

   WTF

   Tell      them        some     nonsense        is        going         on!

   “i’m     afraid       it’s        much     worse      than      that,”    Gunners          Do        Something?!

   it’s a beam; it can be broken

  “ Padme what’s happening?”

  A go- decent response

   “ i’m         being         pulled         inside        the      droid      cruiser        by        a      tractor      beam,”

   Good     Commun        ication

  Whelp,        Done

   So       at      22: 40           Rest       of        the     episode         is   hostage     situ      ation?

Inter      es    ting

 Much      Better      Than         Just      Shooting        at        it       for        an      hour

    “I will not be made a separatist bargaining      chip,”

    Initiative

    Though           Less          Emo        -tion

    Should           be       recited        like       something       she       had        to      read        off        a   paper

Guessing I’m not Padme I’m Padme’s    handmaiden  thing only works     once

Continue       your    attack

 You     must   continue-

I hope     she get some   actual action

Nothing too intense       because she’s still a kid

But like a surprise attack on     General grievous

Destroy     this   monstrous   ship

That’s kind     of      like-

How-

I saw the next frame

Wtf-

WTF

  HIS FACE JUST-

CON-torts

    You are not Romeo and Juliet   movie

    You are two kids reinacting Romeo and Juliet              clumsy

   Get it right

  “Admiral,     order      our   ships     to   stop     firing,”

 No   one’s   gonna    stop     this

 No   one‘s   gonna   comment...

Okay....

Obi-Wan      And        Plo   Koon          are        just     gone

  Left      when      Anakin      started       acting    unchild like

   Never     mind      still       there

 Nothing   suspicious      *Rubs    beard*

 Whelp

   It     does      not     look       safe       out     there      my     lady

  Screw      with      the     tractor      beam      and       leave

  No      one    can     stop   you

Droid     Related

 “I      see     now   this   whole   thing   was     a   trap,”

The     Bang’he       Clan     Works      With           The-

    I       can’t     even     make     that         joke   because       the   bang’he      clan      are   working      with       the     separatists

  Good    writers       you       out     joked      me

“ we   walked    right    into     it,”

 Pressing     buttons       isn’t   going       to   help   lady

Sir  the     republic   cruisers     have     halted    their   attack

Bit   too   much   emotion      for     a     droid     but    it   works

“Jedi     are     so   predictable,”

  Hit       him       with          a      gun

   Get        the      repair       team      up     here

  “ i’m     going     down      to       the   main   hanger,”

The arm motion was a little weird...     for ‘I’m going down to the main     hanger’

 Street    Railways?

Are we   getting *tour    the inside of the    ship??

Nice

This     ship   must     be   returned      to   Count     Dooku     intact

Nice   little   interaction

Rail      ways

There’s     no   room     for   failure

Hard       Moral

One      on   fast   speed    ing   train

Moves       over       to   another   pad

   Don’t     think     that’s   gonna   help

“Come        on     I’ve   over       loaded     the   power     system,”

 THAT’S        actually      really      clever

   Good          job     whoever        gave         that        order

    General      grievous        goes          boom

    Fighter        door       opens

    Find            a       Fighter

    And        fly        out

   * Anakin        walks          away*

       You know this would be a good idea if Obi-Wan had ordered him to do so when feeling the emotion of ‘love’, miscommunicating the concept of love, and didn’t realize that’s what he was doing -  what clues him      in

“ where do you think you’re going,”

 “ someone’s got to save     her,”

    Still too much emotion

   “I thought you might say     that,”

     Did you give him that, did you give him an        order relevant to that?

     There he goes   again

     Yeah           Someone        should         really        check         up        on       that

     Or       get    Obi-Wan         to        lay off           the       suicidal      orders

  “Craving     adventures        and     excitement,”

     No,      orders

   “ You        get         used           to         it”

Could      be     just       a     response

  But     too     much    reaction        And      Person         ality

   Oh,          Shit’s        On          Fire

   “Come on 3PO hurry,”

     Flaming wreck lady

    “not sure this is such a good       idea,”

   Neither     is       being       held      captive

   You’re made of like solid gold

 Timing

  [also the announce in the background        like a train station - just cracks me up]

  Time to get blown up

   “ Mind the gap”

   “Mind the gap”

      Haha

     You        two       come       with       me

 Command

That droid’s-

 No, wait-         It’s Amidala

   And C3PO

  He’s trying to      help

   Looks       Inside

  Beeping

   Timer

   Look     like        the   engine-         Are           Set           To -

    Timing

   “Destroy          themselves,”

     He        really        needed        them         to        say           that

   Get      out       of      my     way

 “Ow,”          You        don’t      want          to       die

   That’s         just           rude

    So         is     death

   You    should       get       out        of        there

    He’s        going               to       come         back        around

   Geez

   Fire squad         is a train         wreck

    They’re          Trying

      Crud      if this gets back to      Skywalker          and        he      thinks       she’s      dead

  After        That     Speech

  Who knows what toxic morals of love         Obi-Wan taught him         could activate

  This could       become     a train      wreck

 Ahhh!

 It got      worse

Seriously       who made the droids that have to        with      stand       high    water pressure          Light weights

   Oof

  Even high water pressure        cannot kill him

  Even running away      cannot save him

 Wonder     what that attack       would’ve done

 Sound the alarm

 “We have stowaways,”

   Or...

   She was never on that   ship

   Seriously      no one besides the republic      saw her 

I’d go with “she isn’t on board,”

   Run

Back     to the        republic ships

   Who are doing       nothing         while grievous rebuilds

    Like,         The medical station is   right there

    You might want to get back       on moving     them

Just Saying

  “ i’ve trusted you already formulated a brilliant   plan to     rescue     the      Senator,”

 “ as a matter of fact     I have,”

 Umm,

Weird        How to     Code     that

“ what do you have a Plan B               Every     good plan has a back up,”

  Stop        forcing his    dependence on you

 “ I don’t   have a back up   yet,”

  Too     much    emotion

 Really

 Questioning

Not really   helping his   self-esteem

Really “ we’ll sneak behind them and dock at the emergency air     lock,”

   So I’m guessing this is going to set up     Padme     going       there

“ That’s       your        plan?”         Discouraging

“Fly     land,”

That’s literally what all maneuvers     rely on

Also     it       sounds       like   something     out      of       a     fairy     book

  Which        might        explain      Anakin      toxic      behavior

  “ Walk        in         the        door,”

 “Basically,”

    Too      much       emotion

  “Oh     Brilliant,”

  Dick

 Firey       Wreck

 “ Might I suggest we keep     moving?”

   Bit       Loud         There            It

   “ I think        I hear      battle droids   approaching,”

  Talking         is      not     helping

 “But      we also need to contact         the fleet,”

     Getting out is the prerogative

      They don’t know where you are

       And you can’t stay in a constant       location

       If I can just keep this        com panel working

     Ahhh!

Well     just      disappeared

 “The Damage to the hyper drive       was not as bad as        we first        thought,”

   How?!

  It’s been     damaged     for about    two episodes

 Also, Good for    Her

“ We’ll be able to get underway again shortly,”

  With this   mess of a ship

   Hyperdrive would send half of it flying

   It’s barely holding together by a      string

   You’re     screwed

 I must inform count     Dooku

 Seems     oddly    suspic.

Continue the search

 Find the     stowaway 

  How does    that change anything      in Amidala’s eyes

 Getting     to know the boss     isn’t worth it

Just be more careful

  Roger, roger

  Commander

 Intimidating

  *Spark*

  Oh        She       Was          In          A        Cabinet

   Thought         she       made           it        in

  C3PO        Looks      creepy       in      one     frame

   Shit’s        Constantly          on         fire

    “If they spot us        we’ll be pulverized,”

     With what guns??

     You’ve been doing all the hitting           this entire time

     They’ve been sitting         Geese

     “They’re            too           busy repairing the ship,”

       Thank you

       [also Obi-Wan              complainers rules]

       “ They             don’t                   have              time                to             notice              us,”

         Cocky

        Subtlety               has            never            been             one              of             your            strong             points             Anakin

Neither        Yours            Person           who           orders            him!

“ Everything       I     know       I      learned     from        you     master,”

  Point       Yes      Attitude?     No

   Oh       if      only      that      was      true

  Should            Be

   Might         be          a              side           jab              at           how           he          took          orders           from            the        Chancellor

     There          we          go

     Only      Obi-Wan        was          worried

  “Didn’t         You         Hear       It,”

    Your        circuits          are       loose

    Or       maybe       you’ve       lost       your   hearing

From        the   impact

 “ No      one’s        crazy      enough           to        do         that,”

    Cut

  “Anakin”

   Perfect

 “You’re        Crazy,”

   You   groomed      him      this      way

“ spinning           is          not       flying”

    “But          it’s          a      good      trick,”

   Too     much   emotion

   Do      not     want       to       be        spotted

   Good       job

   You’re      standing        more        in              the       doorway         than         he          is

    “I knew it it’s them,”

     That droid       is just having a day

      Aww              But his        friend came down           to check           with him

    That’s adorable

    Oh no

   They’re backing off       peacefully

 ASSHOLES!

Obi-wan     specifically

   You stay here           R2

  Again     why did you bring him

  Another        bold strategy by -

     Say Skywalker

     ‘Skywalker’

      Ordered

     “I presume,”

    No, Obi-Wan’s 

 When it’s not Palpatine’s

    “That’s my master”

           Children               don’t                show          preference                  for            handlers

      “ once they rescue the Senator we will need to reinforcement to finish off the enemy

    Sounds nonsense           but OK

          Dude             really              Likes         enforcement’s                 “ i’m on my way,”

       “Master Plo”

  “ We’re receiving a transmission,”

    Padme

Weird distance to start a conversation at

Running for some reason

 “ Master          we found the     senator,”

   Good

“ We’re patching       Her through,”

 Helpful...?

  What       is       it       with    Skywalker      and   becoming         a     Barking        over-   animated     Puppet      Every      time     senator       Amidala      gets     involved            ?

“Anakin       where       are       you,”

   Better;        where        are      your    coordinates

    “ On       lower      levels,”

   Better       but      where

   “I don’t          know,”

    Give a better location

     For how long

     Problem with this whole plan

      Give Landmarks

      Get to the     rendezvous point

     “Obi won and I are on board too,”

     Better; get to the ship on level ____ on your ___ side                 Optional; Closest landmark ____

             We’ll meet you   there

           What what are you doing?

           Not the best point to      argue

       Ahsoka, how can we get to the senator

     Better how can we both get to the escape pad?

    In case   we both get separated

    Taking longer to coordinate       that complicated-

    How long till they get separated?

    Center of the ship

Half way between the two of you

 Neither      Ahsoka gave neither

   Bad instructions

“ we’re on our way

    To a very unspecified point on not   specified level at a not specified   time

Let     the hijinks   commence

 “ Did                    you hear that                                    Padme?”

You’re on the same com

 “ i’ll be there,”

   Some-how

The question    to my answer was       22:40

  When do the Hijinks begin?

   Let’s             See

Marching      Intimidated 

  “we just detected        An unauthorized communication          Coming from within the        ship,”

    Shouldn’t he be making a phone      call?

  “ what did it           say?”

  Interesting

Well      we don’t know

 That’s how encoding works

 We didn’t catch it in   time

 Off

 Droid     winces

Monitor     all internal     communications

Like they’ll do it again

I want   that senator    on this bridge

Good   luck with that

You haven’t   even   saw her

Rail-ways

Nice

Busy

Should be a cakewalk

Is Not a cakewalk

All the way up there

“I do not see her,”

 Yeah, that’s the problem-

 She’s here master

I sent it

Or you got the wrong port

(So you heard her voice     so she’s clearly somewhere on this ship)

 He’s probably late again

But we do have company of another sort

Oh        She has a gun

  And somehow none of that hits     her

   And of course that gets the attention

    I’m honestly glad they didn’t go with miscommunication          Causes        fake stand up         scenario

      Even if this is         faux       Romeo and Juliet

     Good job

    Lots of       jumping

    Look     Jedi

    Good job         nice guy

    No wait         That one       guy had     common sense

   “I knew that was a bad idea,”

    Mercy

    That you didn’t show on the other      guys

    Who ��     were far more hesitant

     And you took out that    one guy

    Who didn’t do   anything

     Just wasn’t as  vocal

     Dicks

    Jump The peashooter      isn’t doing the job?

   Jump

 He tried

  Power      Thrust

  Ana       kin

“ There.      they          are!”

    Bull         shit

  No way     

he saw those guys

 On all those     Packages

 Also       ‘the i knew     It was      a bad     Idea     Guy       Got     New     Friends

“Fire!”

Fuck

The   bridge     is     out

“Jump     to me,”

 Try       it   with     a     little    bit     more         disinterest

“ I’ll use the force”

Even she realizes it’s not that     intense

  “ You have to trust me,”

    Good Luck

  OMG

 It looks like     she just      falls

Also Obi-wan’s in the back   like     it’s none of my business

Like dude came on a rescue mission      And     has become completely useless     never helped   once     Complained  the whole way   there

Manages

“Got you,”

“ NICE    CATCH,”     Obi  -Wan from the sidelines

    10/10        Hilarious

“ I’ll fetch the droid,”

   What??

       No

This          isn’t                   cute

     Disgusting

“Oh the things you do to get me alone,”

   KIDS don’t-

    Ack-

Please      no     more     smoopy-

nope

I’m     putting   it in     the    “bad”    corner      Till       it   stops   trying     to     ship   children

  Bad    Movie

 That’s          Not     Cute

Obi-wan             Sucks

   Can’t      even      levitate        A       Droid

  “Stop         me       please”

    Poor        Droid

    Blast          You’re            Weak

     “ That’s           not           good”

         Yeah             you’re               weak

          “Anakin               I got            separated                from                your                  droid,”                  Thank                   God

                 I’ll                   take                  care                    of                      it

             Better                             “ We’ll                   meet                      you                      back                        at                     the                    Twilight”?

                 “ I                overheard                 grievous,”

            Annnnnd

     “ They’re hyper-drive             is nearly fixed,”

       Soooo, He better get you back to the      ship so we can start blasting it with Cannon balls again?

“ i’m already headed in that direction,”

  Soooooo, don’t do it, Obi-wan?

  Or have Anakin and take the extremely important senator       And come back for you later?

  “ i’ll make sure the   hyperdrive stays off line,”

  By shooting it with more cannon-balls?

Ha ha Ha ha ha

  We’ll see about that

 What?!        Person who can do nothing!

 Like seriously if they just go back to the ship-

  That Jedi

“I’m getting you out of here,”

  Good decisions

 “I need you to help me find 3PO,”

 How?

“ I know I know     he does,”

 Padme’s        expression

“And       i’ll be there     soon,”

  That’s        almost       adorable

       Oh          like          that

‘Someone stop this contraption,”

Careful        Words

  Yeet

There        We          Go

  Into      those      boxes

“ I       suppose             I did ask for that,”

Ha-he

   That got a small giggle   out of me

 Stomping

  Bait

Murderous        Intent

 Get        Fucked        Obi   Wan

Really    rolling out all the stops

Hahaha

 “ Hello there,”

 [Took a pause.   a long break]

  General Kenobi

“ kill him,”

Straight.       To.     The.       Point.

More in line with the characterization we’ve seen up so far, not that much for conversation

Dude’s       just rolling

 There        went the others

 Bowling    pins            they          are

Oh     grievous   has     a     gun

And   hiding behind the enemy

Thought     he sent     both those     guys flying

Apparently     I was wrong

Must’ve        Been        a       Third

 Ha

Didn’t     Work

Yeet

That    poor      Droid...

 Spark*

  That        was        impressive

    Nah      he        ran      around      things

It really set up your forces for a     brawl among       them selves

“Argh,”

Dude,   how   insecure

“ Guard         the         hyperdrive,”

Oh     yeah       he      did      shit        to         it

  Also   sending     basic       level      mooks        to     deal     with        it

Shooting         Things

 Again       how      did   Anakin         and   Padme     end      up     in      the    situation?

 They      were      at      the     train    station      last

  Now         they’re         at??

 And       have      agroed         every       enemy

  Who      should       be     focusing       on    Obi-Wan   because 

  That        was        their     last        order

   Grievous      has      just         completely       ignored       Anakin

 Hiding

 You          aggroed              Them!

  Why      are        you      calling       Obi -Wan

“Come in     Obi-wan,” 

 Get     her     to       the shuttle

“ i’m afraid     grievous     is onto     us,”

“We      noticed,”

 Hey   you guys Aggroed those guys completely on your own     don’t blame Grievous   for this

“Ack,”

Those      are      Tanks

 You’re  peashooter     isn’t going       to       do       much

 Also,          Anakin      shouldn’t     be     able       to      take     them   either

This           should       be        a     properly     terrifying     moment

“ We’ll           meet      you     back        on       the     twilight,”

Good     plan

“Obi-   Wan!”

Writers      don’t     screw       this        up

 “Come     In,”

 His   communicuff     clearly    got   damaged

What’s      wrong?!

 They’re       jamming      all     communication

No again   it’s far more likely that his       communicuff        Got     Damaged     (Especially   with      Grievous      listening        in,”

Not everything is     jammed communi         cations               Yeet, yeet         Yeet

That     should    not     work Those        are     tanks

Anakin   is        a     lightweight

His skill set is     unspecified

But     he shouldn’t  be able to cut more than     butter with that knife

Light wieght     clankers     should   pose    a   challenge

Due   to   the   amount   of   energy

  “That    might      buy         us      some         time

   Unlikely

   I       suppose         you        have          a        plan      Yeah,          Get           to            the         escape         pad

     Follow            Me

    ...To          the          escape           pod

      C3PO             I do believe           I’m lost

       Seriously            you           haven’t           found              this             guy

       Enemy          Territory

       And           all            alone

       You’re         a           service            droid

         Probably             wouldn’t              notice              anything

             “Ah,”

             Dude, they’d probably just adopt       you into the clan

            “ I surrender,”

               Again I really want to see the C3PO and battle droids     conversation

               (When not aware of the other side)

 It’s      a projector...          R2 D2

    “ you are a sight for    old eyes,”

      A nice   interaction

“ Master     Anakin         sent       you          to       find        me,”

  “ what        kept           you        then?”

     He      does         have         a       point

    Dude     got   thrown      off      the     train    about      an     hour     ago

R2′s      just been messing with him

“ follow me,”

“ The general        is demanding     a        status report,”

Oh some driod on droid    interactions    (without   the    general)

 Nice

Is    the    hyperdrive   re-paired         Yet

  From     there?

“ i’ll     give     him     the   good   news,”

This   isn’t   the       escape     pad

Did   you   take   a   wrong    detour?

Also    no   one   guarding   the   super   important    one   panel   repair

Just       Light weight    clankers

   Also that’s not   good news

  (Especially considering       it’s one panel)

   Surprised     this goes      so well

Also;      now     there’s      tanks

  Surprised you think that peashooter can do anything   ma’am

   Like seriously   should’ve grabbed a bigger gun

  The   droids     have     some

  And      you can’t tell me       there       hasn’t been artillery     laying around    this     entire       time

   Yeet

  That almost-      Turned into murder                 This is why not going to the escape pods      immediately    was       a      bad      idea

  Again          this       should        be         a      stressful        fight

But turning your child soldier       Into an all powerful      can never lose       child soldier

 Is bullshit       movie

 Opened   Door

  “Ever since I’ve known you       you’ve been playing       with droids,”

  Ack

 “I used to put them together,”

  Alright...

 Now I only take them   apart      Child soldiering...

  It sucks

So,    where do we start

GETTING TO THE ESCAPE PAD!

Obi-Wan      supposed to be here                               any minute!

With whole lot of     bullshit!

   Move!

First we need to get one of these     droids so they don’t know we were here

No destroy the thing and     go

They’ll figure it out in like   five seconds

When they go to start the thing     up!

Running is a good   option

“I’m gonna     hot wire   this ship,”

How does       this make       anything            better?

 He’s already down   and       in kicking position

  Everyone’s waiting for Amidala

 You’re not helping, good sir!

  (In fact I’m pretty sure   you’d have to fix something       To make     it go,”

Secondly,      This is a     HUGE    -ass ship

As a reason it has an   electrical team

Squeezing two little   wires

Isn’t going to do       much

It requires continuous effort   to different parts of the ship       To make a dent

And I truly doubt     such   a large ship is going to have such a     non-complicated        Start-up     compared   to hotwiring     a car

Point being;     this shouldn’t work

Give      Grievous      a little surprise

Again    if it’s anything less     Then a      bomb

 Dude isn’t   gonna have   much             trouble

And    this      is       a         waste       of      time

I’ll guess     I’ll clean up the droids   then

LITERally im   possible

That’s     a      tank!

 You   carry   light     weaponry!

Back     to    the   fleet

Plo           Koon         Is       doing     nothing

Having     tea   and   cookies   with     Ahsoka

Our     ships   are       in     attack     position

So...    nothings   changed

“Master     Skywalker,”

  No      one        else      either

   “No,”

Deadpanned

 “ The      droids        are     jamming      our     transmissions,”

(More   likely   reason     for     that      on       a       -damaged     ship)

But      Ergh-

“We need to give him more     time,”

 Opinion!

“ i’m sure we can,”

I’ve been sitting on my ass-         

  [Plo’s            Head        Moves     -Railway]

   We’re         back         here      again?

   Obi-Wan         should         be         at        the     station        by         now

    Everything         is       behind        him

   Yeet

   Yeet

Make it to the   Coms   center

Break      Some      Shit

Oof     Those       Poor     Droids            Good      Pa     rell       els

  Splat!

 Obi won    looking   back-and-forth

 Obi-Wan       you       are        a      Jedi     master       this      shouldn’t       be     hard

  Run

Tum   ble

I was fully planning on   him   stacking it

Roof

Also, Obiwan

  Stop fecking         Around

  Get to the   place

  Woof

How

Did you   end up   falling over?

Ironically Obi-Wan    shows    less    emotion    than     Anakin

* Slashing      the       train*

 Okay...     what     did     I   do

Snarky        little     shit

 Could        be     snarkier

 “That         oughta    do it,”

Ana     -kin      Doing      Obi-wan’s          Job

 Also   Oh     shit      is he       plugging           in       the            location         of         that       supposed          fight           with           master-

How’s the house cleaning going-

 Im-

 That dude made out of     -metal

  He is     FIVE    times     your   bodyweight!

 HOW?

 Done?

 You     MOVED         a     Tank??

HOW-

 That’s-

What       ever

 * Guys       coming            in*

    Oh   yeah       that’s         a       door

       I         guess       repairs         are       finished

Or       they went       on      lunch       break

   Prepared        to charge        up the hyperdrive

     Right on it

“Roger, Roger,”           -famous last words

   Sparking

 Driving

  Are we      seriously      waiting     on   these   two

“Are      you   quite   sure   the   ship       is       in   that   direction?

He’s   basically   a   GPS

That     way    looks   potentially   dangerous

All   of    them   do

 “Haz       ardous,”

 Better   Example     beeping   irritatedly

“I know       the whole     place      is    dangerous,”

  Thank you   R2-     D2

“ I   suggest   we       stay   here   and    let   master   Anakin   find   us,”

Bad     idea

A better idea than anyone in the ‘let’s meet up in an undisclosed location’ came up with

Good idea

3PO

Fecking   Irony

“Don’t    just   stand   there,”

See?

“Let’s      get    back     to    the   ship,”

Irony

Power          up   the   engines     R2

You know   Obi-Wan’s     likely going to screw up your shit   right

*obi-Wan     comes     around     the   corner,*

Dude you have shit to     screw up    

Did you forget?

There shouldn’t be an     escape pod   for you

What

Hold the   ship

No, you didn’t do     anything...

Then again he could just     cannonball   it

How’s that- 

Okay     Very light   bullshit

“ i’ll   contact    the     fleet,”

It’s   the   most   you’ve     done   this   entire   time

Focus      On         The     chair

Do        cking      Clamp

There     We       Go

 Off        We     Go

 It’s       still   Burning

Grievous        Off

Why?

He doesn’t know   

Obi-Wan’s off   the ship

Last   saw   him   on   the     train...

(Not     followed    up     on   directly)

Flighters,   Where        I thought they all got     destroyed?!

All batteries   open fire

Again     Plo Koon does not give a shit       who dies

(Until sitting on his ass gets        too   boring)

Also    this isn’t his fleet

They shouldn’t listen to   him

(Especially after he got his last one   killed)

More       Shooting at the   burning     wreck

Turb      ulence

And     Obi-Wan   still    didn’t   do        his     job

Guns

You can       shoot back   at any time

“ I wa-”

Obi-wan      being   completely       useless

Anakin       having       too     much     emotion

“I   got      it,”

Shoo   ting     stuff

Somehow       doesn’t    go   down   immediately

Hit

“ She     seems     to know   her way   around,”

Gross

Hit     Something

The      Hyper       Drive

-repaired

Also   Obi-Wan   didn’t   fuck   up   shit 

Dis     appointed

Also   it   certainly    as   frick   isn’t   now

After   they’ve   been   shooting

Should we retreat     to   friendly    space?

If You can make there it with it in     one piece      (Which    was    the   qualifications)

Engage     the   hyperdrive

With   me   not   on  it

“Secret base      sector four,”

Interesting

“Prepare-”

Enthus iastic

“Yes,      Sir,”

Fighters      still   chasing

Intense

“Nice   Shoot,”

 Gross

“Beginners     luck,”

 Beeping

“Pardin-”

“Hyperdrive   is   activating,”

Obi-Wan

“ Oh-shit     Caught in a   lie.”

“-what”

-They’re getting hit with cannonballs     Anakin what did you do   ?!

(What Did      I    order you    to do?)

Coordinates    are   locked

“Hyperdrives     engaging,”

  Shit’s     about       to    go-

Ar-

Sp-       arking

Glitzy     display         Base

“ I think   there’s     a   problem,”

“General     I think     there’s a problem with the   hyperdrive,”

Yeah       The ship got refired     upon     it’s probably       re broken

Seriously

“ I thought     the hyperdrive     was fixed,”

And then it got shot again...

The navigate computer is heading a straight into the   moon

What        ??

Fools       reset the           Navi         computer

“Quick,”

Tech    Support

Dooku

Worst         time      to     call

(Don’t       think     it     could’ve       gone       more       sideways)

Also good job         Anakin         You crash landed them       on a planet         with significantly larger surface area       and resources     that they       can             use      to         re-build

 Aka              you made things harder      than they needed to      be

  Obi-Wan,        what are you     ordering       this kid

Narrowed eyes

-No     reset       it

“General,”

 Harsh

But I’m interested         in where this is going

Since        Grievous           has          had           a lot of       shit thrown at him

Doesn’t matter     which side of      enablers         he still enabling

 But          I suppose        over involved         positivity            Would be            kind of a nice      change          for         him

 Over         over involved           negativity

 Speeds         off

“Trans         -mission         Has          been          cut,”

  Intentionally

* also      smart        droid

“ We’re     Gonna         die

[Explosion]

 How?!

Whelp       Obi-Wan has to have a sit down talk with Anakin.    about the ‘ Drive the         ship into the moon,’ order

Also I realized      (thanks to Obi-Wan)     they know nothing about what just     happened         Grievous           either             decided         to        just       end          it 

or they’re all dead

Obi-Wan

 Dick move

“ I imagine        you had           something       to do       with that,”

WTF- orders

“ all part of       the plan,”

Obi-Wan schooled       Anakin in      extraterrestrial terrorism

Cheering     at least the ion cannon     isn’t coming back

Nice shot

           ...So Destroy Malevolence

               I have to say      I really like this episode

 Despite the plot      stretched thin

        There was a noticeable increase in the quality of       animation

        The child characters were     good 

The other characters were a lot more consistent  And a lot       smarter                               

[ananobrain]

Geraldine works for the twelve (and might have killed Kenny)

So, everyone agrees that geraldine always felt a bit off and useless, right? She’s always around the house being, as she said, “hyper-empathic” (which by itself could be a personality disorder https://exploringyourmind.com/hyper-empathy-syndrome-much-good-thing/) and overall just a good daughter helping her mom over come grief and blahblahblah — bullshit.

I had this revelation while watching 3.07 so I’m basically going to analise a few scenes of that episode that might have gone unnoticed (while bringing a few dialogues of this season), bare with me.

1. Hélene explaining her concept of monster to Villanelle During that scene, Hélene says: “monstruous people like you often feel they have to fly solo like they have to keep things bottled up inside them. Thoughts. Feelings. Secrets. And that can affect their ability to be truly monstruous.” and then “whatever it is you can tell me. I dont want us to keep secrets from each other.” and something about that clicks with how Geraldine acts, always sharing, trying to make Carolyn talk and open up. Maybe that’s just her being hyper empathic or maybe that’s just her trying to use her mother’s grief as a way to get information out of her. As Geraldine said in 3x02, 

2. Carolyn investigating Paul with Mo.

So, this scene is important for many reasons, one of them is to figure out how Paul hides his work for the twelve while living his life doing “standard white people stuff”

and then, it gets obvious:

- a bottle of chablis, a stir-fry kit and a bath bomb. what does that say to you?

- that he’s planning a lovely evening in?

hold onto that.

3. The shrink talking about Irina to Konstantin x Irina mentioning Stanislavsky

Ok, throughout the seasons we had some resemblance between Irina and Villanelle, they’re both very smart, dramatic and as far as psychology goes, we know that psychopaths are born and sociopaths are “made”, sort of, and these lines get kinda blurry during the show. 

So, Irina’s shrink describes her as: extremely bright and also manipulative. calculating. almost entirely lacking empathy. 

But empathy is a funny thing in this show. Villanelle’s showing some empathy. Hélene could be empathetic with her kid and with Villanelle. So, are they faking all the time? Is it impossible for them to feel things? We know that Villanelle said to Eve. Geraldine’s the opposite of that, right? Anyway.

In their next scene, we see Irina talking about performance, that’s the key word.

- You should read some Stanislavsky

- I’m not acting.

- Exactly. You’re over-acting.

I don’t know much about Stanislavsky but I do know he was really important with the psychological realism in the theater and later created a system that “mobilises the actor's conscious thought and will in order to activate other, less-controllable psychological processes—such as emotional experience and subconscious behaviour—sympathetically and indirectly.” Meaning that the performer should seem as real as possible, the role and the actor are connected and always showing their authentic emotions in scenes. For an actor to really display emotion, he needs to know how this emotion looks like, what it feels like.  As it turns out, Irina was talking about control of emotions, she knows how to read people, she’s calculated. 

Geraldine always seems to know what to say to get a type of reaction out of people, she burst and gets on her knees to talk about Kenny, and how Carolyn needs to let her in, she manipulates her mother into giving her something. At first she cries and sobs:

and Carolyn says “I’m doing more for your brother than you could imagine” , then Geraldine’s expression shifts almost into a grin

that was fast

And Carolyn, once again, shuts her down because obviously she doesn’t share information with someone she does’t trust. Remember that.

So many emotions, right? It almost seems like, i dont know, a performance. 

Next.

4. Geraldine manipulating Konstantin

Back to the 3x07. She goes to Konstantin and aparently she wants to get away from her mother’s mood and make him a nice and thoughtful dinner because thats who she is. Thoughtful.

So, she gives Konstantin some clue for him to play with:

and then he goes with the bait, of course, because Geraldine shows how manipulative she can be and her expression shifts completely to this:

then she lies

Carolyn sharing that type of info with Geraldine? I don’t believe it. As I said before, she doesn’t share information with someone she does’t trust.

Then she says that Konstantin would “disappear into the ether” and how would she know?

Then she lose it and makes a scene, which is revitalizing, really. and then Konstantin gives up, so she says “seeking out someone whose brother’s just died, taking advantage of their grief  when they’re at their most vulnerable. what kind of person does that?” “a shit”, Konstantin says. and then again, what was Geraldine trying to do this whole time with Carolyn? what did she say when Carolyn said “i’m doing more for your brother than you know”? she asked for more. she’s taking advantage of her mother’s grief.

Konstantin confesses he used Geraldine to spy on Carolyn and then nice and sweet and hyper-emphatic Geraldine says:

Ouch. Would a hyper-emphatic say that?

5. Carolyn arriving at home

ok, this scene is perfect. just look at it.

candles and incense AND

did the yoga mat ring a bell? anyone?

Carolyn says shes going to run a bath and 

Geraldine’s always at home, seemingly a dull life (as carolyn said in the 3x4) but no,

yes, she’s drinking some wine, practicing yoga, relaxing...she’s just doing a painfully standard white people stuff. she’s just planning a lovely evening in, right?

Her yoga mat? Blue. Paul’s yoga mat? Blue. then again, she goes for more info

Carolyn works for the MI6 after all (even though she might as well be a double agent she isn’t stupid)

then Geraldine burst once again calling Carolyn an emotional iceberg and then goes on about finding ways to express her emotions and thats impossible to live life refusing to feel things. All that just to get Carolyn to react and, hopefully, to see Geraldine as trustworthy, maybe share one thing or another. Which doesn’t work because Carolyn says in the trailer for the sf “dear geraldine i think it’s time you left”

So, what I think is: 

a. Geraldine might be a sociopath who works for the twelve.  Sociopaths can be 

- “Manipulative and Conning: They never recognize the rights of others and see their self-serving behaviors as permissible. They appear to be charming, yet are covertly hostile and domineering, seeing their victim as merely an instrument to be used.” 

a class act

- “Pathological Lying: Has no problem lying coolly and easily and it is almost impossible for them to be truthful on a consistent basis. Can create, and get caught up in, a complex belief about their own powers and abilities. Extremely convincing and even able to pass lie detector tests.” i gave an example before but here’s another:

thats when she kissed Konstantin

- “Shallow Emotions: When they show what seems to be warmth, joy, love and compassion it is more feigned than experienced and serves an ulterior motive. Outraged by insignificant matters, yet remaining unmoved and cold by what would upset a normal person. Since they are not genuine, neither are their promises.” and again

Gemma Whelan is doing a fantastic job i just need to point that out 

b. She might have something to do with her brother’s death. She either gave info for the twelve or actually got her hands dirty. We know that Kenny was getting somewhere with his investigation. Does she have motives? Could that have been Konstantin all along? I don’t know. But we do see Carolyn at better pills watching a footage that might show who killed Kenny.

c. Carolyn must know Geraldine is onto her or, at least knows she has been lying to her face (she lied about Konstantin’s visit and didn’t tell Carolyn he was spying on her)

d. I believe Geraldine could kill Carolyn in the sf and as Carolyn said:

Konstantin did say “everybody’s mother deserve it” so it wouldn’t shock me that much.

Anyway, that’s my theory. Geraldine works for the twelve and was trying to get info on her mother, either to investigate the MI6 or to see where Carolyn loyalties lies (that if Carolyn does in fact work for the twelve as a double agent). Or maybe Geraldine is just someone who wants to keep no secrets, just like hélene.

[justmenoworries]

If Ben’s Aliens Were Their Own Characters (Part 2: Alien Force + Ultimate Alien)

Part 2: The Electric Boogaloo.

Sometime in his teens, Ben decides that it’s unfair to only set some of his aliens free and with the help of Azmuth, re-creates the glitch from part 1 in order to bring out the rest of them too.

The compound the alines have lived in until now needs to get expanded again to make room fro 24 new family members.

With the help of Grandpa Max, some plumbers (and a very reluctant Azmuth) they eventually manage.

Swampfire: Haughty and arrogant. He suffers from a major inferiority-superiority complex due to the fact that he feels being one of the aliens who did not manage to get out of the Omnitrix by themselves makes him weaker somehow. Thus he has an intense, but often one-sided rivalry with all off his “older” siblings, especially Heatblast since their powers are the most alike. Ironically, the two of them make a really great team in battle, if Swampfire manages to keep his ribbing in check for five seconds and Heatblast in turn manages to not rise to the bait for once.

Jetray: A tough, no-nonsense hero. He takes his job as a plumber very seriously and has no patience for his siblings’ childish antics, though he gets caught up in them fairly frequently. He’s more of a scout than a fighter but that doesn’t mean you can afford to underestimate him.

Echo Echo: A music lover through and through, but also a little anti-social. He spends most of his time in his room listening to music from every corner of the galaxy and even composing some of his own sometimes. It’s usually dubstep. You’d best have some earplugs ready when stepping through his door, because he often forgets that not every species has eardrums of steel like he does. It’s a miracle the house hasn’t come down yet.

Goop: Perky, friendly and just downright adorable. Nothing really gets him down (except maybe snatching his anti-gravity device, but why would you? Why would you??? You Monster.). Actually getting on his case is ill-advised, though. He will mess you up if you insist on keeping up whatever bad thing it is you’re doing right now. All while chattering and giggling excitedly.

Humungousaur: The strong silent type. It’s not that nothing gets to him, it’s just that he doesn’t think he has much to say. Which makes it all the more baffling when someone happens to reach his breaking point (hurting his family) and he just goes ballistic, roaring and throwing punches, kicks and tail-swipes left and right. He’s the literal definition of calm before a storm.

Big Chill: He somehow manages to be the Mom Friend and super chill at the same time. He’s a good listener and great at giving life advice, but he also won’t hesitate to use his snark to call someone out on their bullshit. He’s sassy, enjoys quiet places, cool nights and meditation.

Brainstorm: Extremely snooty and thinks he’s the smartest of them all. He is not. That would be Grey Matter, but good luck trying to tell him that, you’ll either be ignored or called an inferior being in some way. Secretly, he just wants Grey Matter to acknowledge him as an equal and prove his worth as a great mind.

Alien X: Like in the show, Alien X doesn’t really talk or do much, because Serena and Bellicus won’t let him most of the time. Occasionally they release him from their on-going debate so he can at least spend a little time with his family. When he’s himself, he’s a composed, intelligent, charming individual. As a result of being essentially a prisoner ins his own body 90 % of the time he’s terrified of waking up one day and finding himself being alone, because the world moved on while he was forced to play referee to his split personalities. In order to help him at least a little bit, Grey Matter and Brainstorm (with a little help from Upgrade) in a rare act of cooperation, modified his room to notify either of them when he’s about to wake up, so they can inform the rest of the family and they can all welcome him together. He appreciates it immensely.

Chromastone: Sophisticated and responsible. He tries not to let it show, but he feels really pressured by his role as Sugilite’s successor and doubts he can actually live up to his role as a guardian of Petropia. He’s especially nervous and awkward around Diamondhead, since both of them don’t really know how they should treat each other. Diamondhead hesitates giving Chromastone orders in battle, despite being the leader, because shouldn’t Chromastone take that role? He’s the guardian after all. Chromastone on the other hand struggles with actually taking command. Diamondhead is older and has been the leader far longer than him, so should he really be handing him the reigns? As you can see, it’s complicated with these two.

Nanomech: Did somebody say Napoleon complex? He’s smaller than even Grey Matter, yet if you listen to him boast, you’d think he was the galaxy’s mightiest fighter. To be completely honest, his arrogance isn’t that unfounded: If he actually gets over himself and fights smart not hard by using his height to act as a saboteur or spy he’s crazy dangerous. He’s always eager to help whack some bad guys and apart from the above mentioned ego problem, he’s a nice little guy. (Tho if you want to stay on his good side, don’t mention the “little” part where he might hear.) His origin of having been part of a malevolent hive mind once is something that bothers him immensely and  a huge part of the reason for him acting like he does. He wants to stand out and for everyone to think he’s a mighty hero, because he doesn’t want to be seen by others (or himself) as still part of the Swarm or even just less of an individual because he technically used to be part of it. Mentioning the queen is a sure-fire way to make him uncomfortable, because it’s a nagging fear of his that she’s still out there and that he’ll fall under her control one day. He has rather graphic nightmares about that, which he of course keeps to himself.

Spidermonkey: Energetic, upbeat and very talkative. Your typical hyper-active monkey-character, with a fair amount of mischief on the side. He, Ripjaws and Ditto hit it off right away. Beware, for together they are the ultimate (pun intended) prank trio. For Spidermonkey, everything is essentially one big joke. Even fights he takes more as an opportunity to have fun than an actual job. When you hear him stop laughing it’s usually a sign just how serious a situation is.

Lodestar: Competent, but really emotional and clumsy. He’s the ‘New Guy’ in every way. Really wants to prove himself, tends to lose control of his powers and as a result often pummels himself or his teammates with all kinds of metal stuff and/or literally loses his head, also can’t help acting overly hammy. His magnet powers are tied to his emotions, causing all kinds of crazy things to happen whenever he’s upset. Which, considering how much of a klutz he can be, is often. He never means to cause as much ruckus and chaos as he does, but the universe in general just seems to have it out for him in that regard. He often spends time with Big Chill, since the latter is often the only one with enough patience to properly train him and is always there to hear him out.

Rath: LEMME TELL YOU SOMETHING, PERSON READING THIS ENTRY ON A TUMBLR POST!! RATH DOESN’T NEED SOME FANCY-PANTS TUMBLRITE TO WRITE HIM A PERSONALITY! RATH ALREADY GOT A PERSONALITY! IN FACT, RATH’S GOT SO MUCH PERSONALITY, I COULD RIP SOME OUT OF MYSELF, THROW IT AT YOUR FACE AND STILL HAVE SO MUCH LEFT I COULD WRITE THIS WHOLE ENTRY MYSELF!! (He’s also got a huge soft-spot for children and his family, but don’t expect him to admit that.)

Armodrillo: He’s not very smart and, despite being really big and really strong, he gets scared very easily. Essentially a big friendly child. His siblings don’t like taking him on missions because even though he can be destructive as heck when in action (or maybe exactly because of that) he doesn’t even like fighting. He just does it to defend himself and others, but his drilling powers and invincibility is often crucial. They always make sure at least one of them stays by his side throughout the whole thing to act as a sort of guardian, though.

AmpFibian: Extremely shy and introverted. Talking to strangers is not his thing. His first instinct when meeting or seeing someone new is usually to book it into the nearest electronic device and stay there until he’s sure they’re safe to be around. He probably had the hardest time out of all the aliens to adapt to his new life out of the watch. Even in present day the only one of his siblings he’ll occasionally hang around with is Echo Echo and even then they don’t really talk much. They just both share a liking for electronic music, so they’ll mostly just listen to that whenever AmpFibian feels brave enough to leave his room.

ChamAlien: The definition of Creepy/Chaotic Good (yes, even more than Big Chill and Ghost Freak). He’s....hard to read. He has this grin on his face 24/7, as if he knows something that nobody else does and the fact that he really seems to like appearing where no one expected him to be doesn’t help. He also doesn’t talk much, only when he thinks the person he’s addressing needs to hear what he has to say.

Clockwork: He’s the detective of the family. Mainly because of his ability to recreate past events, but he also has some rather impressive deductive skills. He and Grey Matter often act as mission control, though Clockwork works in the field as well more often than not. He’s not much of a fighter, but his time powers give him an advantage or two.

Fasttrack: You’d think he’d be a loud bundle of uncontrollable energy like his older brother XLR8, but you’d be wrong. Yes, he’s fast but that’s about the only thing he and XLR8 have in common. Fasttrack is serious, confident, mature and focused, never slacking off on a mission even for a moment. Honestly, he could be considered Diamondhead’s right hand if it weren’t for Frankenstrike. He also utterly despises being mistaken for his moronic speedster sibling and saying or even hinting that the two are alike will get you on his bad side. He has a rather dry sense of humor that often comes out when he’s partnered up with one of his less mission-focused family members.

Jury Rigg: For the love of all that is holy, keep him away from machines! He is an absolute menace around them, either because he doesn’t know how they work, yet still fells the need to mess with them or precisely because he knows how they work and just wants to try and “fix them up” to reach their “full potential” as he calls it. Said potential is often explosive, of course. He and Grey Matter are basically at war because he won’t stop touching Grey’s stuff without permission or stop trying to get into his workshop. He doesn’t mean anything by it, he’s just so naturally hard-wired to be a maniac around technology that he can’t help it. If you manage to pry him away from that, he’s actually pretty low-key, sensible, even. Currently, he acts as the familys’ armorer. It’s his passion. Anything he built is sure to give the bad guys (and sometimes the good guys) a run for their money.

Shocksquatch: Looks scary, but he’s a really big softie. That doesn’t mean he won’t pummel bad guys into the ground, though. Ironically he gets along the best with Wrath of all people. Mostly because they’re both huge wrestling fans and enjoy fighting as a sport. The both of them often spar with Four Arms and Cannonbolt. The record is currently tied, but they’re working on that.

Terraspin: Good-natured and slow movement-wise. He’s friendly to the point of being a doormat, which often leads to some of his siblings, like Upchuck, taking advantage of him. Unsurprisingly, he gets along the best with Upgrade, Wildmutt and Goop. Goop sort of looks out for him and keeps the whole “Do my chores” thing that Upchuck has going with him in check. A very harmless and completely hypothetical joke about tongue-burning acid is all it takes to put a stop to it most of the time. Terraspin is grateful for it.

Water Hazard: The rugged, charming rogue of the group. He does his own thing and doesn’t exactly play by the rules. He can be reasonable, but where’s the fun in that? He and Heatblast do not get along, possibly even less than Swampfire and Heatblast. It may be due to them being opposite elements, it may be because Heatblast secretly fears Water Hazard may take his place as the ‘Cool Big Brother’ or it may just be the fact that Water Hazard won’t stop dousing him in water for no good reason. Who knows?

NRG: Loud, dramatic and really big on physical affection. He’s an enthusiastic hugger, which, combined with the fact that he wears his containment suit at all times, often results in tremendous pain for the hugged. You could say it’s compensation for the fact that he can so rarely actually touch things/people because, y’know...they’d literally die. He enjoys every moment out of his suit, flying around giddily and shouting even more than usual.

[dutten-does-the-fanfic]

telling you means losing you (but what if what if what if)

Title: telling you means losing you (but what if what if what if) Pairing: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington Warnings: Language, implied sexual content, implied/referenced child abuse, implied/referenced recreational drug use, PTSD (post-traumatic stress disorder) Word Count: 3.758

Notes: Set right before season 3 - slight spoilers

AO3

Summary: ”You talk in your sleep, you know.”

"Oh?"

Billy hums from behind him. Steve doesn’t have to turn around to know how he looks; lounged in his bed, suntanned, and with the sheets pooling artfully around him even if it’s too fucking hot to even be partly under the covers.

“Can’t even get you to shut up when you’re asleep.”

He should tell him, he thinks. Feels like a hypocrite, feels like bullshit, because that’s what Nancy had wanted to do, had wanted to tell Barb’s parents there was no reason to hope when they should be grieving.

He should tell him, he thinks again. What if it’ll end up being what saves his life?

”You talk in your sleep, you know.”

The blinds are rolled down and the white, completely see-through curtains are closed too. Steve can’t see that the sun is already high in the sky and burning everything in its wake, but he can feel it because the room is positively sweltering.

It doesn’t help that they close the door, too.

There’s no actual need, because they’re alone. No one is ever in Steve’s house, but it makes them feel safer having the visual of the door fully shut.

“Oh?” He hadn’t been aware, actually. No one’s ever been around to tell him. Nancy definitely never said anything.

Billy hums from behind him. Steve doesn’t have to turn around to know how he looks; lounged in his bed, suntanned, and with the sheets pooling artfully around him even if it’s too fucking hot to even be partly under the covers.

Instead Steve keeps staring at the door, keeps sitting on the side of his bed. The floor isn’t even cold against his bare feet.

“Can’t even get you to shut up when you’re asleep.” Billy’s tone is sharp and his words are harsh, but Steve doesn’t flinch at either. He wants to laugh.

Because he knows Billy – or, he can read Billy. He doesn’t think anyone actually ‘knows Billy’, maybe not Billy himself. And while Billy sure sounds it, he isn’t being mean right now. Not like he can be, when his words bite the worst and make Steve flinch away even though he knows Billy won’t physically hurt him ever again.

So Steve’s grinning even as Billy can’t see it and says, “You wouldn’t want me to, anyway.”

Billy doesn’t reply, so Steve doesn’t know if he’s grinning too, or scowling, or has that sappy look on his face he always refuses exists when Steve brings it up and that he hides away if Steve’s able to see it.

He figures Billy would look really good with a cigarette right now. Would look good bathed in sunlight too, but Steve never draws the curtains, so they’ll have to make do with the light coming off his bedside table.

He’s provided Billy the perfect opportunity to say some gross shit like, know something else I’d rather have your mouth be doing, but Billy doesn’t take the bait.

Ironically, it’s the quiet that makes Steve anxious, not the words. You talk in your sleep.

Steve isn’t good with sleep. He isn’t good with a lot of things, but sleep in particular doesn’t come easy to him anymore.

Sometimes it’s falling asleep that’s the problem, mostly it’s staying asleep. Sometimes it’s impossible to not wake up in the middle of the night screaming, or on the worse night where he doesn’t have enough air to even do that, when the darkness is oppressive and fucking terrifying. Or, not the darkness, but what hides there.

Billy knows about the screaming. And the not screaming. He’s been there for both, has jolted up from the bed to seek out the threat, to fight off whatever’s made Steve so afraid he’s shaking apart in his bed, until he seems to realize there’s nothing there, it’s just the two of them and there’s seemingly no reason for Steve to be as scared as he is.

Yet he can’t stop shaking. Not until long after Billy’s curled himself around him, warm and solid and breathing and alive and safe, they both are, do his limbs fall heavy and the sobbing threatens to take over instead.

It’s not as bad now as it used to be. Isn’t as bad when Billy stays over. Steve’s even started sleeping through the night again, on those nights only.

Steve dreams. Or more accurately, he remembers, with added on events of just how wrong things could’ve gone, nearly did go. Dreams filled with darkness and screams and too many teeth and danger, danger, danger until the anxiety makes him want to tear off his skin and hide away forever.

It’s gnawing at him now, not knowing what Billy may or may not know right this second.

“What’d I say, then?” he asks, going for casual, but his skin is too tight and the line of his shoulders too rigid that Billy will know just by looking at him.

“Loads of things,” Billy says. His voice is deep and a bit gravely, the way it always goes when he’s just woken up.

The lie-in had been accidental. At least they both have the closing shift today. Billy has to stay late to teach the kiddies in the late afternoon and Steve has to lock up the ice cream shop and ask Robin if she wants a ride somewhere, even if she always declines.

“You talked about the ocean,” Billy finally tells him. Tensely, which tells Steve it’s not the entire story. “Kept going on about waves and sunshine and driving down long, deserted roads.”

Oh. Steve feels his mouth go slack as all his muscles relax. It happens so quickly, too quickly. He nearly slumps down so much he slides right off the bed. His skin is too sweaty to glide anywhere, though, which is probably the only thing that saves him and his dignity.

Because what Billy’s leaving out isn’t the part about too many teeth and growls and a bat with nails and keep them safe. It’s that Steve thinks about the ocean and waves and sunshine and driving down long, deserted roads with Billy.

Steve can’t help the smile the breaks out on his face. He can still feel the anxiety swirling around inside him, now there for a different reason because Billy doesn’t really do… this. Feelings or commitments or whatever you might want to call it. He gets scared and makes stupid, impulsive decisions, or he wants to test someone, push them to their limits to see if they’ll really follow through on what he’s pushing for them to do.

Steve talking about not only going to California, but going with Billy is definitely something that’ll make Billy scared enough to do something stupid before he shows up at Steve’s front door again. Tired and worst case bloody and just so fucking sad and filled with anger that only slowly starts to ebb out when he’s got his face pressed into Steve’s hair and Steve’s got his face pressed into Billy’s neck.

“Did I bore you with my travel plans?” Steve lilts. He’d meant to tease, because Billy likes it when he pushes back and Steve loves to push back, but he doesn’t end up doing that.

Billy snorts from behind him and it makes Steve grin wider. Duck his head down even as he knows Billy can’t see how his mouth is stretched out in a smile.

He notices he’s got a set of teeth marks indented in his skin, right on the bone of his wrist. It’s red and a bit sore when he moves his hand around. It’s just deep enough to still be there as a remnant from last night, but not deep enough to have drawn blood that have scabbed over.

He likes it. He always does, and Billy knows that which is why he keeps giving him little marks and bruises he’ll get to run his fingers over during the day when he can’t remember what is a dream and what is reality.

He’ll have to wear a watch to work, though. Robin would give him looks, probably thinking he did it himself while jerking off to keep quiet. And it’s a bit of an awkward place when he has to hand ice cream over to sweaty, tired parents and too hyper children all day. No need to cause a scandal.

“Always yapping away,” Billy groans, but he sounds less tense, has less anger looming right underneath the surface.

Steve hums. “Could stop listening, then, if I’m so annoying.”

And he should sound like he is annoyed, but he really isn’t. This is just how they are, this give and take, push and shove.

Billy’s physically unable to stop listening. Is always paying attention to the point where it’ll go from being a nuisance to too much and the anger will boil over and Billy will snap for whoever’s talking to shut up.

He never does that with Steve. Even with how Steve admittedly does have a way of yammering on and on, words just falling out on top of each other in a mess until he isn’t sure what the point he’d been trying to make was.

Billy’s always sweet when Steve talks. He’s sweet too when the words refuse to come to Steve, when all he can do is gasp for air that’s evading him, Billy’s still listening patiently then too.

He should tell him, he thinks. Feels like a hypocrite, feels like bullshit, because that’s what Nancy had wanted to do, had wanted to tell Barb’s parents there was no reason to hope when they should be grieving.

He keeps seeing too many teeth, and too many teeth and Billy, and it fucking terrifies him.

And he shouldn’t be thinking like this, because they closed the gate. It’s over. All the demodogs had been taken care of the following couple of weeks; the first one because Steve, Hopper, El and Mrs. Byers had gone out and taken care of them, but after that first week they’d just started to drop dead. They couldn’t handle being cut off, weren’t strong enough to survive without that something tethering them to their own world. They’d only had to dispose the bodies after that.

Billy moves around. Steve hears the sheets being shuffled, feels the dip in the bed as Billy’s probably moved to face him better.

“How would I ever know what you’re thinking, then?” Billy asks, voice light but so heavy with teasing.

Steve should get up and go take that shower he desperately needs. They both have work in an hour or two, and they both need to shower and eat before that, and they won’t have time for either if Steve turns around and takes a look at Billy.

Because he knows what he’ll see and he knows what he’ll want to do instead of all the things he needs to. Knows he’ll want to crawl back onto the bed and down Billy’s body until he can press his nose into the v of his legs, or maybe just settle on top of him until he can sink down, down, down.

“No one ever really wants to know,” Steve tells him a bit distantly. Eyes fixed on the two sets of yesterday’s clothes tossed on the floor right by the door. “The truth can be inconvenient, and people hate being inconvenienced.”

He’s thinking of rows upon rows of teeth and screaming, wishes he could just be thinking of beaches and the ocean and sunshine and worrying if Billy will or won’t want to go with him.

Billy shuffles from behind him again. Steve feels the heat of his hand hovering over the bare skin of his lower back, but Billy never closes the distance.

He’s always been weird about that, careful not to initiate touches if Steve isn’t looking at him.

“You still high, baby?” Billy asks, and Steve wants to laugh. Wants the knots in his stomach and chest to go away until he can finally be content.

He never comes closer to that feeling than in moments like this one. Moments where it’s easy to breathe even with everything he’s trying to leave behind.

Their work uniforms are lying in a tangled heap on Steve’s bedroom floor where they’d dropped them last night. The red of Billy’s swimming trunks shines brighter than the rest of the clothes. They’ll be all creased and messy by now, and Steve will have to iron the sailor suit before he goes to work, which Billy will make fun of him for, but he can’t just not do it. He really needs to get started on his day if he wants to have time for everything.

Instead he turns around. Slides back fully on the bed, settles between Billy’s legs, and holds himself over him, perched up on his elbows by Billy’s head. He’s careful not to press down on Billy’s hair, to not accidentally squash any of the golden curls.

Billy’s a fucking vision underneath him, is a vision in general.

“High on life,” he drawls exaggeratedly. Takes a risk and presses a kiss to Billy’s chest.

“High on love.” Doesn’t look further up than Billy’s mouth, can’t take the risk of looking him in the eyes. He’s still smiling, soft and sweet, and his body hasn’t grown tense underneath him.

“High on you.”

Chances a look. Billy rolls his eyes, but he’s still smiling and relaxed and letting Steve do whatever.

Billy raises his hand, runs his fingers along Steve’s jaw, up his cheek, down his nose, over his cupid’s bow, over his lips and settles on his chin. The pad of his thumb presses down until Steve gets the hint and lets his mouth fall open easily underneath Billy’s administrations.

His thumb moves up, traces over the line of Steve’s bottom lip, holds down until the wet, shiny bit of Steve’s mouth starts to show.

“Jesus, you’re pretty,” Billy mutters. His pupils are blown and his gaze is fixed on Steve.

And Steve loves it.

“Got to be, don’t I?” Steve asks when Billy isn’t holding his mouth open anymore. Drops down from his elbows until he’s lying fully on top of Billy. “To keep your attention.”

Billy snorts. “Oh, yeah. You’ve got so much competition, pretty boy.”

Steve beams. Likes it when Billy breaks out the sweet names that are only slightly mocking. Likes it when Billy unintentionally reveals just how much moments like these mean to him too, that it’s not just Steve who feels it.

Steve hums. “Bathing suits have never sold this well before, you know.”

That startles a laugh out of Billy. He’s shaking with it, and in turn shaking Steve.

He’s got laughter lines around his eyes and his mouth, Steve realizes. He likes the look of them, likes knowing he was the one who brought them out this time. Made Billy laugh hard enough that they couldn’t keep hidden in smooth, tanned skin.

“Saw Mrs. Wheeler get a new one the other day,” Steve continues before Billy’s managed to settle down.

“That so?” Billy’s still giggling. His hand smoothes over the line of Steve’s torso, tickling along his ribs until he wants to squirm with it, but he keeps still. He’s being good. “Think you’d look prettier in it, baby.”

Steve can’t help the pleased smile that shows on his face. “Not quite my colors.” Finally squirms when it becomes too much.

Billy’s grinning, looking like a predator with sharp teeth and clever eyes. Like someone who’s just caught their prey, and it makes Steve want to squirm until he can burrow his way into Billy’s chest and just stay there.

A hand runs through his hair, tugs a bit until his mouth falls open reflexively.

“Every color is your color,” Billy drawls. Steve can tell he doesn’t really care about that though, isn’t thinking about which colors are complementary to Steve’s skin tone. “If you can rock the sailor outfit anything works.”

Steve scowls at him. “I look fucking cute in that sailor outfit, asshole.” It’s not his fault there’s a stupid hat.

Billy tugs a bit harder around his handful of hair, sending a deliciously sharp pain sparking down the line of his spine, makes him shiver with it.

“Said so, didn’t I?” Billy reminds him.

He had, Steve has to concede in the end. Doesn’t do it verbally, because he doesn’t want Billy to gloat for, like, a week, which Steve knows he’ll do. He’s an infuriating asshole like that.

He still presses another kiss to the sleep-warm skin right near his mouth. Makes it a bit wet, licks with just the tip of his tongue until Billy’s eyes darken and Steve can feel his pulse picking up.

He tastes of salt and sweat and Billy, and it’s so good. He moves along his skin until he ends up at Billy’s right shoulder, just over the top of his bicep, right at the tattoo.

He’d gotten it on the night of his 18th birthday, back in April. Had had a bloody nose the day after and a proper shiner.

Steve had laughed when he first saw the tattoo, because it’s so Billy it’s slightly hilarious. It’s so fucking dramatic, but it’s also so fucking sad or some shit, so it was either laughing or crying and Steve does enough crying in front of Billy during the night.

Because maybe it’s for bragging rights, like Billy claims. Some kind of street cred about having a skull tattooed onto your body that Steve will never fully understand, but Steve sees.

The cigarette dangling out of the skull’s mouth, the smoke curling up towards his shoulder, reminds him a little too much of the way Billy likes to leave a cigarette in his mouth, likes to feel the way his lips will curl around it, the way he can hold it still between his teeth.

If the skull didn’t say enough by itself, the dead look in his eyes that Billy sometimes gets should be the final nail in the coffin. At least it’s summer and Billy’s lack of a uniform, so to speak, means there’s nowhere to hide away the bruises. Steve’s also fairly certain Billy’s and Max’s mom and dad are out of town, because he’s seen Max run around the mall with the boys at all sorts of hours that he knows she never would’ve been allowed out at if Billy wasn’t the one in charge.

He should tell him, Steve thinks again. Tries to dismiss the thought, because, no.

Not only will Billy laugh and call him a nutcase, Billy will leave. He’ll leave and he’ll never come back.

And Steve is selfish. He’s selfish and he’s bullshit and he falls in love with all the wrong kinds of people. And he doesn’t want to be left alone again. He can’t.

“Can’t believe you went out and bought new shoes just so you could color coordinate.” Billy says the word like it actually pains him to acknowledge he has that term in his vocabulary, even though Steve’s fairly certain he knew about it before Steve ever told him.

Steve frowns. “But they’re literally the perfect match? How could you honestly expect me not to –“

He umph’s when Billy suddenly drags his body up along his own. They’re both too sweaty and it burns when their skins stick together, but then Steve’s close enough that Billy can kiss him quiet.

He should tell him, he thinks again. What if it’ll end up being what saves his life?

It’s a nagging little thought that never fully goes away. Is there every single time Steve looks at Billy or thinks of Billy or worries about Billy when he wakes up in the middle of the night screaming and Billy isn’t there.

And he shouldn’t even be thinking about it, because the gate is closed. No more monsters, no more weird labs, no more getting beat up, no more weird mysteries, no more deaths. It’s done and over with, and telling Billy would put him in danger along with Steve, if it’s any indication the way the government officials had hunted him down afterwards and made him sign wads of paper after paper.

But what if, a voice in his head traitorously whispers. Then Billy licks over the seam of Steve’s lips and it’s easier to not think about any of it.

Billy would leave, but before that he’d call him stupid, an idiot, crazy, exactly what everyone else calls him, and what Steve hates being called, and what Billy never calls him because he knows Steve hates it.

He’ll tell him, he decides when Billy rolls them over so he’s on top, situated between Steve’s legs, hands wrapped around his wrists and holding them up over his head, and kissing him lazily like they have all the time in the world, if it ever comes down to it. If it’ll ever be necessary. He’ll tell him.

If it ever comes back, if it ever seems like ignorance isn’t bliss anymore, like knowing might just end up being what’ll save Billy’s life, Steve will tell him. About everything. About monsters and too many teeth and screaming and all the deaths and constantly being so fucking scared. He’ll tell him.

And he’ll let him laugh at him and he’ll let him call him bad names that’ll haunt him for a long, long time, and it’ll all be worth it because it means Billy’s alive to do it.

He’ll tell him, and then forgets about everything else and just focuses on kissing Billy.

Four days later, he’s trapped in a Russian elevator. Dustin and Erica are asleep while he and Robin try to figure out something that could help them break out of here, but it’s difficult when all Steve can think about is how he should’ve told Billy when he had the chance.

Mind you, he never would’ve thought Russians were what they had to be afraid of. And they have no reason to think any of this is connected to the Upside Down, but Steve still feels the regret festering in the back of his mind.

He hasn’t seen Billy since Friday morning-noon-ish. Since Billy had pressed him up against the inside of his front door, trailing biting kisses along his skin until they’d both nearly been late for work.

Steve hopes it hasn’t made a difference not telling Billy. Billy, who, theoretically, should be safe, because he spends most of the day at the pool, which is so public no monster is going to be charging through there all willy-nilly, and Cherry Lane is far enough away from the woods that it should be secure. Safer than Steve’s house, apparently, maybe even ironically, considering the other type of monster that lurks around Cherry Lane.

He’ll tell him when they get out of here, he decides. First thing, doesn’t matter if this is only the Red Army infiltrating or if there’s some Upside Down business involved as well, Steve’s going to tell him. Just hopes he won’t be too late to do so.

Because, what if, the voice keeps tormenting.

[scapegrace74-blog]

I was wondering if you could write fic about Scully and Mulder not in a relationship yet and they both think that the other doesn’t love them. And then Scully finds an engagement ring that Mulder has bought when she had cancer or something like that and hid it away. And this clues Scully in and Mulder freaks out that she found but with a happy ending?

That’s a very precise ask, anon, and I feel like you have a very specific answer in mind.  Hopefully this fits the bill.

Pandora’s Box

He’s been at loose ends since his mother passed away, and she draws an invisible line around him, daring anyone else to cross it and touch his tender heart.  There are a million daily reminders of loss: calls from the family attorney, paperwork to sign, a father’s voice rising from a tour group outside the Hoover Building, “don’t wander too far away, Sam!”

So when he asks her to run this simple errand, she leaps at the chance to help.  She’s all he has left to tether him in the world, and she bears the weight of that responsibility willingly, eager to be bonded to him in whatever meager way he can still manage.   She is his anchor: solid, dependable, and fathoms away by practical necessity.

The bank is quiet and she quickly explains the situation to the branch manager, who leads her to the vault and accepts the second safety deposit key from her hand.   She would never, in a million years, have figured Mulder for the type to store his valuables away in a sterile metal cube.   That’s what his office is for. That’s what his capacious heart is for.

The box’s contents reassure her that her partner is consistent, even when he behaves inconsistently.   There are loose stock certificates for various blue chip companies, a heavy silver Omega Seamaster watch, scuffed Ziploc baggies full of faded documents and black and white memories.   Mulder could easily retire on the contents of this safety deposit box alone.   She wonders what keeps him going, what will motivate him now that his search for Samantha has come to its unnatural end.  A chill passes over her, but she blames the cold air of the vault.

She eases the manila envelope containing the deeds to the properties in Rhode Island, Connecticut, and Martha’s Vineyard into the drawer, but it won’t slide flat, catching on something out of sight.   She bends over and slides her hand far into the dark, coming back with a burgundy velvet box.   A Post-It note is affixed to the top with one word written in Mulder’s loopy scrawl: Scully.   Her hands shake, and she sees herself as though from above, slipping the jeweler’s box silently into her coat pocket and sliding the drawer closed with the metallic clang.

His apartment is dim, curtains drawn against the spring sunset pinking the sky outside.   There’s an odour of stale bread, of faded aftershave, of too many evenings spent sublimating the one truth they both should have pursued with greater courage.   The television is on yet silent, but Mulder is staring at the underwater patterns thrown on his ceiling by the fish tank.

She settles on the cushion beside him and waits.   The years have taught her the value of patience, but also the futility of asking an unanswerable question.  His eyes, bloodshot and muted, eventually lower.  With his unerring faculty for focusing on the most unlikely and inconvenient detail, he immediately notices the small box, now cracked open and sitting on his coffee table, the sapphire glinting in the aquarium light.

“You weren’t supposed to find that,” he eventually says, and it is only because she is so hyper-attuned to his reaction that she hears the tiny waver in his voice.

“The label with my name on it made it hard to overlook.”

“That wasn’t for... that was only if...” he breaks off, looking away guiltily.

“For after it was too late?  So I could mourn the lost opportunities, as well as my dead partner?  Has anyone ever told you that you’re a manipulative asshole, Mulder?”   Despite her harsh words, her tone is deceptively calm.  She spent hours driving around, once she’d opened the evidence of his craven and buried intentions, and she is drained of every reaction but resignation.

“It’s because I’m aware I’m a manipulative asshole that I never gave you the ring, Scully.   For all the times I’ve imagined asking you, I could never get past the idea that you’d accept out of misplaced responsibility.”

She bristles, but doesn’t rise to the bait of his obvious diversionary tactic.  Mulder is a skilled behaviouralist, but she has spent seven years studying at the foot of a master.

“How long?”

He’s silent for so long she fears he won’t answer, but he eventually yields.

“When I was in Memphis.  There was a boutique in the lobby of my hotel.  I spent the whole trip trying to sort out my feelings about us, completely unsuccessfully I might add, but when I saw that ring, I knew it belonged on your finger.   I just wasn’t ready to be the one giving it to you.   Then you came back from Philadelphia and put me in my place, and it all went to hell from there.”

“That was three years ago, Mulder.”

“I know!” His chuckle is watery and self-deprecating.

It is murky underwater, she reasons, and sometimes a person gets turned around.  In her desire to keep him from drifting away, she has grown leaden and inert.   In his need to draw closer to her, he has proven himself willing to drown.  But maybe, here at the edge of the map, the answer is to let go of their certainties and cleave instead to each other.   Maybe, like Pandora, after every calamity has escaped, the only answer left is hope.

[eyesfixedonthesun22]

She’s So High: Chapter 7

Summary: 90’s karaoke and your snarky wit seem to have revived the charming side of one Bucky Barnes. Now that he finally has you home all to himself, perhaps he can put some of that charm to good use. Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Warning(s): Smut 18+. Swearing. Kissing, Hand Job, Oral Sex (male receiving), Vaginal Sex, Unprotected Sex. Word Count: 2,635 Notes: Idea was inspired by this 90′s playlist. This chapter was beta read by the lovely @viktordrago. You all go thank her cause without her there would have been A TON of really laughable errors. Thank you so much to everyone for their likes and reblogs thus far. Anyone who left comments has literally melted my heart. I love you all.  Smut Note: ***DO NOT, UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES, INTERACT WITH MY WORK IF YOU’RE NOT 18+*** It goes without saying, unprotected sex....please make sure your partners are clean and you use an agreed upon form of protection (if relevant).

You sprint up to the tower mildly annoyed you’re being made to run on one of your days off. The public doors to the tower are locked for the evening so you head for the private entrance. After scanning your biometrics, you push the door open only to see a smug Bucky standing in the elevator with the door hold button on.

“Took you long enough, Doll.” He says dangling your phone back and forth like a pendulum feigning as if he’d waiting longer.

“Not everyone has super serum steroids running through their veins. Plus, you try running with someone’s cum leaking out of you. Not fun!” you rant while attempting to steal your phone back.

“Not so fast, darling. All that talk of my cum inside of you is turning me on.” He says puckering his lips in a taunting manner while continuing to hold your phone just out of reach. You roll your eyes at his arrogance. Taking a deep relaxing breath, you spring into one of your favorite field moves in hopes of being able to grapple your phone to freedom.

Bucky must have known you’d take the bait. He counters you gently and with lightning precision has you pinned against the elevator wall with your hands helplessly overhead; hips locked in place by his own.

“Did you really think I don’t have your favorite move memorized? You and Nat, so predictable.” he tuts with his face close enough to smell the hints of whiskey on his breath.

His left hand takes over holding both of your wrists in place; the cool metallic palm dwarfing both your own. To any onlooker, Bucky’s position over you would have looked predatory but you basked in the return of his confidence. His right hand tucks your phone securely in his back pocket before taking a firm hold on your hip.

“Ever think this is the exact outcome I wanted and you just fell for it?” you counter, testing the waters. “Winter Soldier’s getting soft.”

“I think you’ll find it's quite the contrary, doll.”  His hips grind against you and you feel him stirring in his jeans. Sensing your resolve is crumbling, he peppers light kisses along the column of exposed skin on your neck. You attempt to hold back and not give him the satisfaction, when he begins sucking and nipping at your soft flesh, you reluctantly cave.

The two of you are so thoroughly lost in one another you, don’t hear the elevator ding once you reach the living quarters.

“Agent Barnes. Agent Y/L/N. Floor 90: Living Quarters” Friday prompts. Bucky doesn’t come up for air. His metal arm releases your wrists from their willing prison only to tap lightly on your thighs. You know what he’s suggesting but you pause.

“Up you go!” He says picking you up with ease.

“Bucky Barnes you put me down this minute! I swear to god if you drop me-” His footsteps pause and he pulls back from kissing your neck. One eyebrow is raised and his mouth is firmly set in a smirk.

“I’m not exactly light as a feather, Buck.” His expression flickers to confusion as his head cocks to the side.

“Being picked up makes me hyper aware of my body.” Your eyes fall from his face now self-conscious about meeting his gaze.

“You mean aware of these?” He squeezes your bum appreciatively. “Or these?” Now holding you with his right arm and caressing the curves of your hip and thighs. “You must mean these?” Palming your breast in admiration.  “Darlin’ I ache for every damn bit of your body. I wanna worship it all.”

Your eyes raise from their spot on his chest. “I’m serious, sweetheart. Besides, you’d have to somehow grow to Scott’s freaky large Antman size to pose a challenge for this super strength.” You beam and peck his nose lightly.

“Thank you, Buck.” He kisses you back with renewed fervor while continuing the trek down the hall. Finally in the privacy of your room, he lets your body gently descend his with a controlled grace; lips never leaving yours. You come up for air only to realize you’re in Bucky’s room not your own.

It shouldn’t surprise you; but it catches you off guard regardless. You’ve only ever seen small slivers of his room in the past. His door was always shut like a not so subtle “keep out” sign. If it is open, it’s only so he can peak his head out to chat with Steve to decline a run. Bucky senses your curiosity and lets you explore.

On the largest window-filled wall sits a beautiful walnut desk. You’d imagined it would be bathed in sunlight come morning. The desk is bare except for a set of small plain back notebooks stood between leather wrapped bookends. Upon further examination, you can see each notebook has a range of dates on its spine.

“Therapy has helped a lot; but my memory isn’t one hundred percent still. Whenever I remember something or have a dream, I write it down in those.” Your heart clenches with empathy.

On the wall near his closet is a cork board with a small collection of photos; mostly black and white prints. Looking closer, you find a scrawny Steve beaming a stress free smile you rarely see on him now. Bucky’s arm is slung over his shoulder. They look so young; clearly void of the pressures of Captain America and Winter Soldier. Squinting at the more faded photos, you make out what looks to be his family interspersed with some drawings you recognize in Steve’s style. Right in the center of the collection is a group photo of the Avengers from the holiday party last year.

On his nightstand is a well-worn copy of War of the Worlds next to an ambient noise machine. His duvet is a calming shade of blue which perfectly coordinates with the camel leather headboard. It’s warm and welcoming.

It almost feels intrusive to see the intimate details of Bucky’s space and disturb his calm oasis. Your heart swells with emotion knowing how much he must trust you to have brought you here.

“It’s beautiful, Buck. Did you decorate it?” you feel his arms circle around your waist from behind as you continue to look around.

“Of course I did, darling. It took me a long time to figure out what I wanted; but I finally have something that feels like mine.” He gives you a quick peck on your cheek before walking over to the nightstand.

Still wonderstruck by his room, your revere is interrupted by music filling the space. It’s a song you recognize from one of your private playlists. You turn to face him; his hands once again encircling you. “How did you-” You’re pushed back into the plush duvet with a short yelp.

“Your playlists may be private but you didn’t turn on a private listening session.” He raises his eyebrows like he couldn’t possibly be more proud of his sneaking abilities. Making grabby hands, you feel his weight settle on top of you.

“So you spied on my listening habits? That’s pretty impressive technology navigation for a senior citizen.”

“I mean… they don’t call me a ghost story for nothing.” He says with a lighthearted chuckle. “Plus I’d watch all that senior citizen talk, missy. What does that make you?”

Bucky’s warm lips mold themselves to the contours of your neck making it difficult to think. “A harlot?”

He hums in response while marking you with another love bite. His hands roam to your breasts caressing them in earnest while pressing you back into the down duvet. His hand moves to the small of your back to hoist you up further on the bed, quickly settling his weight back onto you.

Despite the earlier fervor you both shared on the elevator, you’ve wordlessly communicated a temper of pace. His flesh hand cups your jaw gently as his tongue slips in to meet your own. All urgency lost, you allow yourself to savor Bucky. The now familiar scent of his body wash envelops you as you attempt to memorize his tastes and sounds.

Fingers trace and graze. Palms grip and smooth across planes and dips of one another's body. Your lips only separate to gasp needy puffs of air before diving back into each other; never wanting to be apart for long. Each article of clothing is removed reverently before the skin below is explored.

“Fuck darlin’-” He says stealing his lips away. His eyes are a vivid shade of blue but show no signs of hesitancy. There’s a subtle flush across his cheeks which matches the beautiful color the kissing has brought to his plump lips.  “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this.”

You rise up to meet his lips again; gently pushing him off the bed before your hands move to the waistband of his jeans. The belt joins his other clothing strewn on the floor and you’re able to get the zipper down with far more grace this time. His hands settle on top of yours and you both push his jeans and underwear down together. He pulls you to stand and rids you of your final garments.

“You finally gonna let me have my turn, Buck?” He’s lying in the center of the bed stroking his length languidly; the mischievous grin you’ve grown to love makes an appearance.

“Doll, you know you don’t have-”

“I want to… so badly do. I want to.” You crawl up the bed and settle between his legs; kissing his firm thighs as you near your goal. “You’re not the only one who’s thought about this for a while, honey.”

“You been thinking about me during your alone time, doll?” He says folding his flesh arm behind his head as he looks down at you.

You’re certain there’s another snarky comment coming but it gets choked off in his throat as you lick him from base to tip. Knowing full well you have all evening, you set out to figure out what combination can draw those beautiful sounds from deep in Bucky’s chest.

A particularly strong moan followed by a choked breath alert you to a sweet spot. You continue to work the same pattern with heavier pressure; savoring the rhythmic tensing of his thighs in response. Bucky leans up slightly as if he’s going to tell you to stop; but you gently press him back down. He sighs deeply while pressing his head further back into the pillow; hips raising on their own accord, pushing him further into your mouth.

“Doll, I’m-”

He lets out a low growl from deep in his chest before he spills into you. You continue your motions; touching softer while adoring his little whimpers of oversensitivity.

“Sorry, darlin’. Didn’t give you much warning.” His voice carries a heady coarseness; indicating his post-orgasm state.  Kissing your way up his thighs, abs, and pecs you hum gently in his ear-

“Didn’t need one, sweetheart.” You kiss the shell of his ear before moving to his pillow soft lips for a deep kiss. “Besides, you’re not exactly subtle.”

He chuckles lightly and shifts his weight pinning you beneath him once again.

“As perfect as that mouth of yours feels, I’m not done with you yet, doll.” Your legs part wider allowing him to settle between them. Allowing him time to recover, you both kiss with renewed desire. His cock, previously semi-hard, stiffens once more. His hips roll and dip allowing his shaft to slide between your wetness. Each pass provides a delicious friction to your clit making you crave him inside you.

“You’re such a tease, Bucky.” You intend for it to be a stern warning but it comes out a desperate plea.

“Hush baby girl. It’s not teasing if I deliver on my promise.” On the last word he angles his hips slightly and pushes into you.

Having been acquainted with quick and dirty, you’re surprised how delicate Bucky is. His kisses seem to land on your body exactly where you crave them. The gentle glide of his cock against your walls stretches you deliciously; passionate and slow. Before, your release came on like a freight train. Now it’s as though he started a small fire and was stoking it with each push and pull inside you.

“Bucky! That feels so-” your words die into a whimper as the fire breaks forth and spreads like a wave over your body. You spasm and clench around his length as he continues to rut into you.

“I’m so close, darlin’.” He manages to last a handful of thrusts longer before he releases into you. He quieter this time but it seems his release is endless.

Bucky stills above you; barely supporting his weight as to not crush your form beneath him. He pecks your lips so softly before gently lifting off you.

“I’ll be right back, doll.”

You watch his firm backside retreat into the bathroom. Releasing a deep sigh you reach for your phone in hopes to update Natasha and Steve so they don’t worry about you. Bucky returns from the bathroom with a soaring belly flop onto the bed before he scoots up closer; burying his head in your neck. Distantly, you hear the stream of the shower he started in the bathroom.

“Watcha doin’?” He slurs lazily against your skin.

“Just updating Nat so she doesn’t come hunt you down.” you say chuckling.

“You’d defend my honor.” He wraps his arm around your waist pulling you impossibly closer to him.

Opening the message on your phone a flush starts to creep to your cheeks. You see a string of concerned messages from Steve, Sam, and Wanda wondering if you need consoling. Tony sent a rather inappropriate message asking if Barnes had “sacked up”.

At the top of your list you see Nat’s messages turn from positively frantic to utterly annoyed. The last one reading, “I’m home now. I can hear you sickos through the wall. He better be treating you good for me to endure this torture.”

You return back to the message threads debating who to respond to first; or if you want to respond at all.

You contemplation is interrupted, “Why am I in your phone as ‘Grumpy Barnes’?! How rude!”

Bucky apparently has woken up from his mini post-coital nap. You’re about to defend the name (blame Sam) when he launches a sneak tickle attack. Eventually you manage to wiggle free from his clutches and sprint to the awaiting warmth of the shower. Bucky walks in and soon has you wrapped back in his embrace.

The gentle caresses of his fingers up and down the wet skin of your body paired with the steamy mist from the warm shower have your eyelids feeling heavy. You lean your body back against Bucky letting him support you while he washes you in his body wash. You find so much comfort being surrounded by his scent.

“What do you wanna do now, doll?” You hum sleepily; the length of the day catching up with you. “How about we curl up, watch something on Netflix and crash? You nod slowly into his chest.

After drying off and ignoring searching for pajamas, you’re nestled amongst the pillows and comforter. Bucky pulls you close under his arm while turning on an episode of Twilight Zone at a low background volume. Your eyes flutter shut enjoying the warmth of his body pressed next to yours. It’s quiet but you hear him mumble something inaudible before sleep takes you both.

“Doll, I know I’ll never been the same Bucky I was before Hydra got ahold of me, but if the new version of me feels how I do now, I don’t think I mind.”

[cnroth]

The Misrepresentation of Mental Disability in Star Trek: Discovery

Season two of Star Trek: Discovery has teased us for half a season with Spock having vague mental health issues and Starfleet being a big dick about his experience. In episode 8, “If Memory Serves,” we finally get an explanation for Spock’s strange behavior and see what happened when he escaped the psychiatric hospital. It is... infuriating.

The set up was bad enough, with its dangerous mentally ill person and he can’t really be mentally ill because he’s a nice person, with the gross violations of Spock’s rights and Amanda’s dreadful comment about how “‘emotional disturbance’ is code for ‘psychosis.’” It’s honestly a clusterfuck of misused terminology and harmful tropes. With episode 8 we’ve added the mental illness fake-out and when modern medicine fails try magic (telepathy), as well as another iteration of the INCREDIBLY DANGEROUS myth that psychiatric hospitals are scary places that might lock you up against your will and threaten your safety.

I can’t help but think back to the season one arc of the the only major character who had a psychiatric diagnosis last season... who also turned out to be a mental illness fake-out and was insta-cured by sci-fi magic. Looking back at this parallel, we see that the dreadful bait-and-switch representation of mental illness in season two was also used in season one, indicating that Star Trek: Discovery is not quite as progressive and inclusive as it purports itself to be.

So let’s talk about Tyler’s PTSD.

The misrepresentation of Tyler’s symptoms

According to the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, fifth edition (DSM-5), in order to receive a diagnosis of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder a person must experience a traumatic event that meets specific criteria (such as a life-threatening event or witnessing violence). Then, for AT LEAST A MONTH after the event, someone must experience symptoms from ALL FOUR of the following categories:

Intrusion (e.g. flashbacks or nightmares)

Avoidance (staying away from things that remind the person of the event, avoiding thoughts or feelings related to event)

Arousal and reactivity (hyper aware of surroundings, exaggerated startle response, explosive unprovoked outbursts of anger, feeling on edge, sleep disturbance)

Mood and cognition (e.g. beliefs that the trauma was one’s own fault or that they’ll never be safe again, memory disruption, loss of interest in activities or ability to feel pleasure).

Although it’s clear Tyler and Voq experienced multiple traumatic events, and we see Tyler having intrusive flashbacks and nightmares—although they were mostly used as a plot device to conveniently convey backstory and foreshadow a major plot twist—we didn’t see clear examples of all four symptom groupings. Moreover, the timeline for his symptoms isn’t clear, but if we start the clock at his escape from the prison ship, I have doubts that it was a month. (Feel free to correct me if I’m wrong.)

Now, I realize that no one directly gave Tyler the diagnosis of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. It was Admiral Cornwell who recognized his symptoms as trauma-based and said she had experience treating PTSD from her former medical practice, and she used her training to help talk Tyler through his reaction to seeing L’Rell. Still, viewers were expected to buy into this explanation so that the reveal of Tyler as Voq would be a surprise.

In short, they indicated that Tyler had Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, but they didn’t seem to do much research into what the symptoms or criteria for that disorder are. They misused terminology and exploited Tyler’s suffering for the sake of the plot. Then, they used a bait-and-switch tactic to reveal that he didn’t actually have a real-world psychiatric disorder after all, but just some fantastical sleeper agent side effects. They sold viewers on an inaccurate but compassionate representation of mental illness, then ripped that representation away from us and laughed about it all the way to the bank.

The problematic way Starfleet (and the show) handles officers with mental disorders

Tyler is suffering in season one. Clearly, he wants help, but he’s afraid that if he talks to a doctor he’ll be relieved of duty. He confides somewhat in Michael, but swears to her that he’ll get help if it becomes too much for him to handle. We later follow him on a mission to retrieve a data core with a worker bee, where seeing Klingon bodies triggers a flashback and he almost blows the mission. We, the audience, are supposed to take this as a sign that something is very wrong with Tyler and he isn’t fit for duty.

But here’s the thing: The way this story is told is discriminatory and harmful. If Starfleet were as compassionate and utopian as we’re supposed to believe, then they wouldn’t take away the thing that helps Tyler cope and stay active. Working is good for him; taking him off duty—particularly on a ship that for some stupid reason doesn’t have even one mental health professional on staff—would mean... what? What would he do to fill his time? When someone is suffering from trauma symptoms, too much spare time can be counterproductive. It can in fact be very triggering, opening up mental space for the trauma symptoms to fill. It would likely also add to Tyler’s sense of being an outsider on Discovery. His comrades are all working, but he is not.

Tyler doesn’t need to be relieved of duty. What he needs is for his commanding officer to accommodate his disability.

Out of universe, this is important because PTSD is very stigmatized in the US military, and many people fear losing security clearances or even being discharged because of such a diagnosis. The truth is that the stigma of diagnosis is much more dangerous than the diagnosis itself. Avoiding help can lead to worsening of symptoms and unexplained behaviors (such as snapping at a at a superior or avoiding certain triggering situations) that could have been excused and perhaps accommodated by having a diagnosis on record. Tyler’s situation has real world implications, and the way the show undercuts him over and over is downright harmful to real people living with this condition.

Let’s look at his mission to retrieve the data core. Now, there was really no good in-universe reason for him to be on that worker bee. He was a security officer, not a technician. Why send him instead of, say, Owosekun? The answer is that the plot demanded it. The mission was an excuse for Tyler to have another flashback, and the viewers were supposed to believe that he was messed up and unfit for duty.

But let’s say he was the ideal person for that mission. If Tyler had been receiving treatment, his doctor could write up a list of special needs he has and some accommodations Lorca could make to help him. Lorca would be legally required to fulfill those accommodations as best he could. It is not Tyler’s responsibility to bear all the weight and consequences of his disability; as the ones with more power and privilege, it is Starfleet’s job to accommodate him. So, maybe one of those accommodations could be that he doesn’t go on missions alone. If something triggers him, another officer is there to provide support.

How hard would that be to do? Answer: it’s not. Not at all. Accommodations are usually not hard to provide, but refusing to make accommodations is ableist. Unfortunately, Starfleet—the beacon of hope and progressiveness in science fiction—is unwilling to make accommodations for Ash Tyler and other personnel suffering from PTSD. They’d rather pull them from duty and put them out of sight so they won’t inconvenience anyone.

Instead of giving viewers an example of how the crew came together to support Tyler as a person suffering from trauma-based symptoms, the writers chose to put the burden of Tyler’s suffering squarely on his shoulders. With this choice, they heavily implied that people with PTSD are not capable of contributing to Starfleet and must be set aside until they’re “better.” THIS IS HARMFUL REPRESENTATION.

As someone who has personally experienced multiple mental disabilities, two of which are chronic and a third of which is trauma-based, it makes me wonder... would I have a place in Starfleet? Based on what I’ve seen in Star Trek: Discovery, my answer is no. I am not welcome to contribute to their so-called utopia.

Not at all.

If you want to support positive representations of mental disability in Star Trek, please tell them. Share this blog post on Twitter and tag their official accounts, or just tweet them your own thoughts about how their portrayals of psychiatric symptoms and healthcare are hurtful to you or your loved ones. If enough fans give them constructive feedback about this issue, they’ll listen. Thank you. Good health and stay safe.