#anyway water’s wet. i overthink constantly.

[mooglestiltzkin]

“you don’t like it bc you just don’t understand it!”

mm, got told this today bc i said i didn’t like kafka on the shore and… yk what? maybe! maybe so! i don’t think i understood the book, but i also just… didn’t like the content?? the graphic description of killing a cat, the possible incestuousness of the main character sleeping with his mom and sister… he’s not certain he’s related to them, but maybe he is? i think the atmosphere and the writing style was alright, but… i didn’t really… get hooked? it’s been years since i read it tho.

like last time, he said this in response to me saying that i disliked ff12, and… no, i think i have a pretty good grasp on ff12, i just think it was told in a really uninteresting way, plus i need to connect to the characters in final fantasy games and ff12 misses the mark so badly, for me. i think there’s plenty of stuff to talk about ff12, the experimental changes, it’s themes, etc.

idk, to me, understanding something doesn’t mean liking/disliking something. i enjoy the process of dissecting and overthinking, weighing opinions and theories, even dismantling the process of positive/negative emotions when i don’t know the full story and figure it out afterwards.

like i’m bad with words and articulation!! i think i say an overall feeling of what i mean, some rough outline, but the precision and conciseness is something i’m awfully not good at!

like i always want to like something! i can usually say there’s something positive about it (that isn’t “it ended”) even if i’m more negative about it in a dramatic fashion bc how else do i discard my thoughts. but sometimes things just… don’t work for me, whether it’s jumping the gun, or just, internally i would have done it differently, or maybe i do appreciate it once i figure out where it’s supposed to go, and tunnel vision blinded me in the thick of it. second times around can be so enlightening and rewarding once the shape is known, and you can notice things that you weren’t looking out for the first time.

idk. i’m not especially smart, i’m not sure i do understand the things i like/dislike, not completely, anyway. but i like asking myself why? i like pointing things out that make me happy or frustrated me. tho i wouldn’t really call it analysis or eloquent. but the experience, the discussion/reflection, that’s always interesting. to hash it out in discussions, and still not agree with the other person. not particularly good at the response in discussions, tho i mull for ages, sometimes.

idk, i got annoyed being told this. maybe, angry, tbh. i find it a pretentious response in all honesty. maybe that’s how he thinks, tho. to like is to understand a thing, to dislike is to not understand it.

i don’t think that’s how i enjoy things at all tho. just as pointing out the flaws/things i disliked/didn’t work for me doesn’t mean i hated the thing overall (e.g. saying 9 positive things but 1 negative thing). i just… idk.

liking something is… intrigue, or instinctive, or the experience. like the desire to understand it, that i can probably agree with! but to actually understand it? in whatever way that means (to you? to the author’s intent?). idk???

[princess-pill-enjoyer]

#26

I took 150 last night and somehow passed out on it so I'm finna take 350 now that I'm awake so that I can get slightly high while being mostly sober by the time my bsf calls me today.

AFTERMATH

I took wayyyy more than 350. I think I took 1.1k overall. Took 200 and let it wear off completely instead of taking the extra 150 after a bit like I planned. Then I started crying.. then I chilled for a bit.. then cried some more. It got badddd I was snotting it up and my arm was genuinely wet wet from all rapidly flowing eye water smh

When I got otp with my best friend I was soberish. I was still crying at that point but I made sure I wasn't sobbing in her ear or anything. She had me spill the beans and by the end of it i was cackling off her mocking my sniffles. She's such a dick i stg 😭

Anyway after she calmed me dowm, she dipped to do some busy work with her mom. I ended up popping another 850 in the meantime. She said she'd be back in 30 mins and I think it was uh.. I think an hour and a half atp so I figured she forgot and I was off the hook for the day. But nah. She texted then called me and I had.. absolutely zero chance of hiding how gone I was.

Mostly I can still hide the junk even when I'm sky high cause with pretty much anyone else im not doing a lot of the talking and my slight chuckles and agreement noises is usually enough. R, however, is fucking hilarious and I'm always laughing at stupid shit she'll say. Which is kinda a problem asss i have a hard time laughing while im that high. My mouth and throat be so dry and to a point where talking in itself is a big task so laughing is pretty much out the question. Plus, kinda weird but i have a hard time finding anything funny in general. Soo when I was sitting there super quiet and not reacting much to stuff she'd say, I ended up fessing up so she wouldn't overthink my silence. Knowing her she probably would've blamed it on herself somehow so it wasn't even worth hiding imo.

It was kinda sad tbh. I'm glad we did get to talk some yesterday but we did way less talking than we'd usually do cause of all of that junk. I went to sleep promptly after we got off the phone as I felt weird. And kinda sad ngl.

When I first woke up I could still feel the remnants of yesterday's dose and I was exhausted but couldn't sleep anymore as I had already slept for I think... 10 hours? Maybe 9 I dunno

Aside from that symptom wise I'm mostly normal. Still feel a little floaty and I'm not 100% for full ass convos rn. I wanna sleep some more but I have a kitchen to clean + I was picking at my skin again so I need to do some aftercare on my skin to minimize scarring as much as I can. I mostly pick at my legs and for that I don't really bother with caring for scars. While I don't really cut myself anymore and I wasn't too too into it before either, my thighs are still covered in scars from them. That plus a few scars that have only recently fully went away made me care a lot less for how my legs look. But nowadays I be forgetting to keep my picking to my legs and started picking at my face again. That I try to hide cause my dad constantly comments on shit like that and I just don't want him to acknowledge it

Lowkey dealing with heartburn and sharp pain in my stomach. Prolly cause I took that much at once and didn't really eat before. I had hella cereal earlier in the day and that was about it

I really gotta start remembering to eat.. I'm fat and all (well. Chubby. Mfs get so confused when I call myself fat 💀) but at the same point I think it'd be kinda sus if I randomly lose weight weight like that. Especially with how shady I've been acting lmao

NOTES/EMOTIONS

Mm. I don't know how to explain my mindset rn. I feel completely useless and I want to just wither away and get forgotten by everyone all at once. I'm sure that's due to the mix of bs I have floating around in my head. I'm tryna keep it together tho. I haven't been drinking enough water as is and I'm sure me crying again is gonna make that worseeee so I'll just try and distract myself for now

I'm so fucking tired of crying. Why can't I just be happy

[ayellowcurtain]

can you write a coffee shop drijzermans au

Do u think u could write a long-distance relationship au? Like where they've only met through the internet and finally meet one day? It would mean a lot to me

I don’t know much about Belgium, but let’s pretend for the sake of this cute prompt that you can only get across the country by plane

Sander rushes out of work for his break, hearing as Robbe laughs on his phone screen, across the country.

“I can wait, no need to rush.”

“No...” Sander holds his phone in front of his face, seeing the most beautiful boy he’s ever seen as he pulls his apron over his head, holding it with his other hand, leaning against the wall, smiling at Robbe. “Hello, cutie.”

“Hi...” Robbe tilts his head to the side, against his shoulder like he does when he’s feeling embarassed. Sander wants to kiss him so badly, to make him laugh and giggle while Sander kisses his whole face. Just a few more days.

“How are you? I missed you the whole day...”

“Did you miss me that much?”

Sander frowns, putting his phone closer to make a dramatic move.

“Of course I miss you! What kind of question is that?” Robbe laughs again, moving his top half closer to the phone as well, his parted lips looking so shiny.

“And what do you miss the most?”

Sander smiles, sighing, feeling so stupid for being able to think of a list instantly, ready to tell all the things to Robbe, but he won’t. Not now, they’ll have a whole month to tell what they missed the most in person.

“Wouldn’t you like to know...”

“Yeah?” Robbe says softly, his curious side surfacing like it does every once in a while. During some specific conversations, always wanting to hear Sander spill all his feelings for Robbe out loud. Sander is not used to it, to being in love, but he’s sure he’s a fast learner.

“I tell you in...” Sander checks the time at the top of the screen. “Fifty hours. In person.”

“Not fair.” Robbe sighs in defeat and Sander smiles at his phone, looking at the coffee shop starting to get filled with clients, Senne not able to get every order. 

“What’s your order of the day?” 

They have this stupid thing where Robbe makes his order and whatever he would like to have, Sander will buy for himself to eat on his bike after work, on his way home. Sander can’t wait for them to do that in person, for him to come home to Robbe with some warm and fresh croassaints and coffee. 

“Hmmm...” Robbe grabs his phone and lies back down, smiling. “I think I’ll have some delicious, very well made - by the best guy ever - hot chocolate. With extra cream and melted chocolate on top, please.” 

-

They walk in an exciting silence out of the airport, constantly bumping their arms together, so tempted to hold hands. Sander fumbles, tapping his whole jacket in search for his car keys.

He helps Robbe puts his suitcase and backpack inside the car and they stand there, looking at each other.

“I can’t believe you’re here...” Sander whispers, feeling he might have a heart attack, watching as Robbe comes closer, standing right in front of him, gently bumping their noses.

He watches as Robbe closes his eyes, breathing mostly through his mouth, so close Sander has to look down to really see him. Sander can guess his heart is beating just as fast as his own. Robbe is perfect, smaller than what Sander had imagined.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Right here?” Robbe looks around them, the parking lot filled with cars, but nobody walking around.

“Yes...Or no, if you’re not comfortable.” Sander corrects himself, knowing he’s always going way too fast.

“No...! It’s not that, just...” Robbe laughs, leaning against him, his forehead against Sander’s collarbone and he feels his cheeks heating up, hoping Robbe can’t hear his desperately in love heart. Sander opens his hands that he closed without noticing, carefully putting them up, touching Robbe’s also burning hot cheeks.

“Talk to me...”

Robbe looks up as Sander was hoping he would do and then suddenly their lips are together, kissing carefully. Robbe’s insecure lips just pressing against his and Sander opens his mouth slowly, kissing each lip one time, opening his eyes to meet Robbe still melting against him.

“Shit, sorry.” Robbe steps back, covering his face with his hands.

“Hey, hey, don’t be sorry.” Sander holds his face again and Robbe tilts his head, leaning against his right hand. “I love you. I wanted this for such a long time.”

“Are you sure? I just basically threw myself at you.” Robbe puts his hands on Sander’s side, holding the tips of his jacket and even that small touch means so much. Robbe actually here, in person, touching Sander or his clothes.

“And I hope you keep doing that.”

-

It was a long night and day for both of them, barely able to sleep, thinking about this moment. Robbe was inside an airplane for a few hours and Sander is still just as nervous as he was a few hours ago, seeing Robbe in person for the first time.

Robbe wanted to take a shower as soon as they got home and so Sander gave him some clean, soft towels to use, but it’s been a while since Robbe got inside his bathroom. Sander doesn’t know if he’s overthinking things, but he knocks on the door, trying to listen what’s going on inside.

“Everything ok? You need anything?”

It takes a second, but he can hear Robbe humming, thinking out loud.

“Hm, everything is okay...You can come in if you want.”

Sander looks at the door. He’s not sure if he understood Robbe correctly. If he wants Sander to get inside because he needs anything or if he’s just offering for Sander to get in if he needs anything from the bathroom.

He opens the door anyway, looking inside, only able to see a blurred shadow of Robbe’s figure behind the plastic white curtain.

“Robbe?”

He waits and Robbe waits too, but he pulls the plastic curtain just a little, his curls now damp around his face.

“I can’t adjust the temperature.”

Oh...

Sander feels so dumb, thinking Robbe meant something else.

“Of course! Shit, sorry.” Sander walks to the shower, to the other side of the curtain, where the shower is, trying to turn the shower valve to warm the water a little bit. He tries not to look, but it’s hard to completely ignore Robbe standing there, completely naked.

They stay in silence as Sander adjusts the water, putting his hand under the shower head, it feels good for him.

“Here, see if it’s good.” Robbe comes closer, under the water and he sighs, laughing.

“Yeah, it’s perfect.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah...”

“Okay, hm...” Sander looks before he can stop himself, but at least he manages to keep his eyes on Robbe’s.

And he watches and lets Robbe lead as he stands on his tiptoes to pull Sander for a kiss, his soaking wet hands holding Sander’s shirt carefully and he has to come closer, not minding about being completely dressed and now under the water, kissing Robbe, not as careful or calmly as before.

-

“Come, I’ll take care of you.” He kisses the cheek of a very warm and pliant Robbe, going down to his neck as Robbe whimpers quietly, his arms already knowing the way around Sander’s neck. He holds Robbe by his thighs, letting Robbe climb all over him, carrying him out of the shower, making sure not to step on the pile of soaking wet clothes now on the floor.

Sander is still in the clouds, not even believing that Robbe is here, hugging him so tightly and what they did in the shower...

Robbe laughs as he lets himself fall on the bed, snuggling closer to the pillows, still a little wet, putting on all of Sander’s clothes that he offers him.

As he’s dressing himself, Sander watches. Robbe using all his clothes, clearly a lot bigger on him.

“Come to bed...” Robbe is back to his shy self and Sander smiles, just finishing putting his hoodie on, crawling on top of Robbe, kissing his cheek, looking at his puffy lips, putting his dark curls back inside the hood.

“You’re tired, huh...” Sander sighs, hiding against the side of Robbe’s face as he nods his head.

“Yes, very much so.” He whispers against Sander’s temple, tangling their legs.

“Thank you.” Sander looks at Robbe again, his tired, doe eyes and his lips that Sander wanted to kiss for such a long time. “For coming. I know I was selfish, but I really needed to see you.”

“Don’t need to be sorry. I wanted to come too, so so badly, you just made me come earlier than expected. And I needed to see you, to touch you and make sure you’re okay and that you’re real and that you like me, of all people in the world...”

Sander smiles again, kissing Robbe, lying his head on his shoulder as he moves to lie next to Robbe. He keeps noticing himself staring at Robbe, watching his every move, every line on his cheeks, making sure that this boy, his boy is really here, lying in his bed. They’re finally together after a whole year apart.

They still have 29 days together, but just the thought of saying goodbye makes Sander upset.

“Tell me.” Robbe moves down a little so they’re lying at the same height and Sander looks at him, feeling the tip of his fingers gently touching his cheek.

“Huh?”

“Was I how you expected?”

Sander frowns, trying to guess what they’re talking about.

“About...?” He raises his eyebrows and Robbe opens his mouth, blushing so hard, shoving his shoulder and Sander laughs, holding Robbe by his waist. “Me! Am I phisically what you imagined?”

“It’s because I was still thinking about the shower...” Sander smiles, falling deeper in love every time Robbe gives him back a soft smile in return.

“You pervert. I would never be able to ask you that.”

“Why not? You were amazing.” Sander quietly puts his hands inside his hoodie, squeezing Robbe’s side, pulling him closer.

“We’re not going to talk about that now...” Robbe wriggles under his more deliberate touch and Sander saves that information for later. “Tell me!”

“You’re perfect, Robbe. The most beautiful human I’ve ever seen. You’re perfect size, perfect weight...you and me fit like gloves.”

Robbe laughs, playing with his hair, meeting his eyes just after a long moment.

“You’re cheesy, I thought that was just because of the distance.”

“I can be anything you want.”

“Stop it!”

[jjba-hell]

Fate and Fortune

Ok so this one I just HAD to do and you’ll see why in my next chapter. Might switch over to a Part every two days since y’know- life but here ya go.

For the moots: @fyre23 and @risottoneroo (you’ll like the end I promise)

Part 12

When they ended up in Saudi Arabia, the first trip Vera had to take was to the clothing shop. Out of customary respect she had to switch to a considerably more conservative choice of clothes, slipping out of the shop to meet Polnareff outside. “It must be boiling underneath. Are you alright?”

“Oh you’d be surprised how cool this fabric is.” She gave a twirl of black fabric. “Also, this isn’t my first time here, Avdol and I...” she forgot she needed to be mourning him in front of Polnareff.

He placed a gentle hand in her shoulder, giving his best sympathetic smile. “I understand you had many adventures while you waited for him to be your confirmed guardian?”

She nodded, wringing the strap of her bag over her shoulder. In truth she did miss him terribly, but unlike Polnareff she knew he was still breathing. “It was more trying to understand ourselves and helping developing stand users. Unfortunately the true niche of his research he kept even from me.”

The hopped in the car- Vera sliding into the front seat while the others were speaking on their next steps on the journey. She figured they’d have to cross the desert sooner or later but she still dreaded the intense heat they’d have to travel through- even though, she supposed, she was best accustomed to the heat.

Or at least she hoped.

After guzzling enough water to last her well into the night and smothering her face in sunscreen she lead the camel to its knees with a handful of grass and hopped on. Vera admittedly had some experience doing this but she wasn’t going to teach the others how to do it- it was, after all, so entertaining to watch Mr Joestar struggle a bit. “I’m sorry- I though you had experience with camels, Mr Joestar.”

She tossed an apple in front of her camel and hopped off to help- moving to Polnareff first. “Honestly Polnareff, I’ve taken trips to Paris- surely you’re aware of the state of the town isn’t that cleanly as you make it out to be.”

Vera wrapped the grey scarf around his head and neck loosely, letting him lure his own camel down. Once he was up she moved to Kakyoin who was constantly looking over his shoulder. “Do you feel... watched, by any chance?”

“I’m not sure- I kind of feel like my intution’s been thrown off since Pakistan. Everything feels kind of off- like I’m just constantly....phasing?”

His hand slid up her covered arm, brows knitting in concern. “Jotaro told me the night terrors were rough last night. Are you sure you wouldn’t ride with one of us?”

She bit back to wide of a small, playing with the extra fabric of the shawl on his shoulders. With a playful snap she pulled him a bit closer, standing on her tiptoes as she kissed his cheek.

His cheeks dusted a lovely pink color and she couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re sweet but I’m still prideful- much like you.” She gazed up at him through her fluttering lashes before moving back to the task at hand.

If they were really being watched then she was hoping she just placed a target on her back. How much Dio was letting his minions know was still debatable but if they believed her to be vulnerable then that was all she needed.

To drive the point home she came to Jotaro who had seemed to manage just fine on his own- strapping the water to his steed in silence while Mr Joestar was floundering about. “You also feel watched?”

He only nodded, turning to look her head on. “I think Star would have seen something by now, wouldn’t he?”

It seemed the same thought crossed Jotaro’s mind- his gaze moving to look out over the horizon- as if he’d see what it was that was watching them.

Moving with Jotaro was slow but she took the moment to hold out her hand to him which he took, softly entertwining their fingers together as she moved to block her from view of the rest. “Are you sure you can make it through? I know you didn’t get much sleep in.”

She squeezed his hand, laughing at how both the boys thought she was only coming to them for aid. “I think I can handle myself just fine, JoJo.”

It was her turn to make the move- she squeezed his hand gently then moved in for a casual hug before moving on ahead with the journey.

Vera had believed she was used to the heat, that the sweltering fire beating down on her was normal and it would be over soon but the sun didn’t move. When they stopped a moment and realized the time she knew something was very very wrong. “Eight? As in 20 hundred?”

She moved closer to Jotaro to check and the realization hit her hard. “It must be a stand.”

“Vera, can’t you make it return to its user?” Polnareff asked but she was already off her camel and heading towards the rock nearby.

“No. Stands define Fortune.” Her back hit the rock with a thud and with a heavy swallow she tried to gather her thoughts. “It has to be short ranged- the power that thing holds is vile. So where could the user be?”

She materialized Fortune from her and allowed them to start walking straight ahead of them. Kakyoin used Hierophant Green to spread out and look as well.

She had to pull back quickly after Kakyoin got injured by the barrage of flames raining down on the group. And that’s how you ended up in the a hole in the ground sweating through your eyeballs.

“Jotaro- do you ever get tired of using Star Platinum vigorously?” She wondered out loud, laying down on her back. “Or haven’t you quite tried.”

“The latter. I know- waiting this out isn’t going to work out, is it?”

She shook her head- putting her feet up on the bigger water canteen she’d phased into the cave. If only her head would work long enough to think straight she could have come up with a solution but she couldn’t even turn back the time on their bodies.

When Kakyoin finally broke out in a laughing fit she thought she’d lose him. Then Jotaro joined and she knew it was too late. Vera sat up and tried to bring Fortune closer to reverse the possible brain damage from the heat but Kakyoin only took her wrist gently, pulling her snug against him and showing precisely what they were laughing at.

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” She had Fortune move out of the cave and toss the stone at the mirror they’d been looking out on and soon enough the sun was gone and the sparkling night sky took its place.

The second it was allowed she was first to March out of the cave after the stand user. “Motherfucker!” She shouted up at the sky at the sight of the user dislodged from his perfectly little air conditioned spot behind the mirror.

“Took the stand meaning a bit literal there, didn’t he?”

They made camp after the abused the residual heat from the stand battle before settling in for camp. Of course someone had to keep watch and none other the Jotaro volunteered.

Vera was glad Kakyoin and Jotaro seemed a bit less phased by her presence with one another than before. What she wasn’t expecting was finding Kakyoin leaving Jotaro’s look out spot- looking awfully disheveled and finding none other than Jotaro without a jacket.

It took everything out of Vera to not cackle out in glee- instead letting a smile crack through the facade as Jotaro tried to cover the hickeys on his neck with a palm. “I could heal that for you, or is too personal?”

He didn’t answer, almost looking as if he felt ashamed of what he had done until she stripped off her head dress and top to sit beside him in her tank top as well. “Hey, relax- I’ve messed around with more girls than guys anyway.”

Another quizzical look which earned him a shrug. “My boarding school’s divided- curiosity was bound to take over. Kind of realized I didn’t have a preference- boys are just a bit meaner though.”

Jotaro had to clear his throat to say, “I thought I knew until you came along. Girls annoy the shit out of me so I thought I knew but-“

He ran a hand over his hair, Vera only then noticing that his cap was missing. “I don’t know.” He growled in frustration. She moved in closer, touching his cheek to let him look at her. “I’m not mad, you know. I’m not asking answers either. All I ask is the same curtesy.”

It was a side-tracked idea she hadn’t considered in a long time but which one, if any, of the two she was in love with- she wasn’t sure- then they turn around and like each other and suddenly it seemed both less and more complicated. Could they all be content with a polycule. She hadn’t noticed she was overthinking until Jotaro brought both his hands to cup her face, looking her in the eye and asking. “Can I kiss you?”

She must have seemed shocked because he added, “Just so I can make sure?”

And in that moment it felt impersonal, as if they were just two idiots trying to traverse a topic neither one could think through. “Yeah.” Was all she answered as her hand wrapped around his left wrist and their lips met.

He was clumsy with his kiss, that was for sure. She couldn’t decide if it was the inexperience or simply because his face- and therefore lips- simply dwarfed her own but it was wet and all she could taste was mint cigarette and something fruity she couldn’t quite place.

When he moved away, they stared at each other in disbelief and she couldn’t help but sigh. “Please tell me I’m not the only one that liked that.”

[avengerscompound]

Blank Space - Chapter 8

Blank Space:  A Scarlet Witch Fanfic

Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing:  Wanda Maximoff x F!Reader

Word Count:  2181

Warnings:  A little angst.  Some nice fluff.  People being homophobic.  Smut (F|F, Oral sex, vaginal fingering).

Synopsis:  Wanda has become used to the thoughts of others pressing down on her constantly until one day she meets you. A complete blank space in the world.

Chapter 8

Wanda might have worried about the fact you didn’t seem to need her anymore after you got your powers under control.  She was sure for any normal person when the person they were falling in love with went from living in your pocket to not anymore they might get worried.  Certainly it felt strange you not actually needing her anymore.  The fact that you could now run off to the store to buy things by yourself.  The fact that Steve was now doing one on one training sessions to get you to be a fully functioning member of the team.  The fact you were now part of the team which meant you were forming your own real relationships with the other members.  You could now joke around with Clint and Sam.  Have a drink with Tony and Rhodey.  Blush when Thor complimented you.  Or even snark Steve when he was being too cap.

You didn’t need Wanda anymore and if Wanda were anyone else, that might worrier her.

Except you wanted her and Wanda could hear it clearly any time you got near her.  It dripped from you.  Your love and desire to be with Wanda enclosed around her like a warm comforting blanket.

Maybe it was cheating.  Maybe she should just trust the people she loved simply because she loved them and believed they wouldn’t want to hurt her.  Maybe she would trust you anyway if she was a normal person.  It was hard to know how she would interact with people under normal conditions.  But she wasn’t normal.  And neither were you.

You matched.  She could see you.  Even when you were hiding.   Even the bits of you she kept from the others.  She saw you how you were.  Vulnerable and hurt but so willing to keep going and to love.

And you… you saw her too.  Not as a monster.  Not as a weapon.  Not as a kid who needed protection.  But the strong, soft woman that she was.

She loved how slow you were both taking it too.  You’d both been through a lot and the need to know that this was real and not a result of just finally being seen.

It was real though.  Wanda was in love with you.  She knew it the way she knew her own name.  And thanks to her powers, she knew you loved her too.

“Is this it?”  You asked as Wanda pulled the convertible up to a small diner by the seaside.

“No,”  She teased.  “I’m hungry.  This place looked cute.  Also, it’s the first place without lobster in the name, and so it might actually have food I can eat.”

“Oh,” You said looking around.  You touched your thumbs to your pinky fingers and let out a breath.  “This world is mine.”

All at once your thoughts flooded Wanda’s mind.  You were excited and nervous and a little hungry and very horny.  The ‘taking it slow’ thing had gotten to that built up point and in the end, the two of you had wanted to make your first time together special.  Wanda had booked a cottage in Maine.  The horny thing had been building since she’d suggested it to you.

The two of you got out of the car and headed inside, finding a table in the quaint little diner.  “I don’t know why you suggested Maine if you can’t eat lobster.”  You teased as you looked over the menu.

“I didn’t think that far ahead.  I just thought cute little cottage by the water and colorful leaves.”  She said.  “They have a few things here I can eat.  I won’t starve.”

“That’s good, I wouldn’t want that.”  You teased.

“I have supplies in the car anyway.  We’ve got a cute little kitchen and a little grill outside.  We’re going to make some really nice things.”  She said.

You giggled and reached over, taking her hand.  “I should hope so with all the roadside produce you stopped at on the way up.”

Wanda could feel your desire to kiss her and she smiled and leaned over pressing her lips to yours.  Only happy to oblige.

“You ladies wanna take that elsewhere?”  A gruff voice called out from the counter.

Along with his harsh words, Wanda felt the hate coming from him.  She was used to that, but usually, it was mixed with fear because it came from people who recognized her.  This wasn’t that.  He wanted to hurt you both.  He was picturing the two of you having sex while at the same time thinking about beating you both to death.

As that pure unadulterated loathing flowed from him, your own fear began to grow in you.  You wanted to be unseen and you tapped your fingers on your palms.   Your consciousness started to stutter and start getting quieter.  Wanda moved to your side and put her arms around your shoulders.   “It’s okay.  You have a right to be here.  This is your  world too.”  She soothed.

“What the hell is wrong with her?”  The guy asked, backing up from the counter.  “What is she?”

He was getting scared.  Wanda was glad for it. She felt the strong urge to bury him in that fear.  To make it so he could never escape it.  Wanda wheeled on him, her eyes flashing scarlet.  “She’s a person.  A good and kind person.  Unlike some monsters in here.”

“Go!  Get out of here you freaks!”  He shouted.

Wanda got to her feet and squared off.  You stood with her clinging to her hand.  A red cloud of psionic energy swirled around Wanda’s head as her anger got the best of her.  “You are right to fear us,”  She seethed.  “Be thankful that today you decided to spew your hateful rhetoric at decent people.  Next time you might not be so lucky.”

The guy stumbled back, knocking a pan off the stove.  Wanda led you back outside, slamming the door behind her.

As soon as you were standing in the sunlight Wanda turned to you and cupped your jaw, looking directly in your eyes.  Your thoughts were still swimming in and out for her and she could only imagine what it must look like for any passers-by.  “It’s okay.  You are okay.  There’s no danger here.”  Wanda soothed.

You took a few deep breaths, keeping your eyes locked with Wanda’s.  Slowly your thoughts steadied, though they were mostly now about how embarrassed you were.

“Hey.  There you are.”  She said.

“I’m sorry, Wanda.  I don’t know why he scared me as much as he did.”  You said.

“Don’t be.  He was a monster.  They hide it well.”  She said.  “But I love you.  Don’t let that man decide whether you deserve to be here with me.”

Neither of you had ever used the word before, though you both thought it all the time.  You blinked at her in surprise and a soft smile touched upon your lips.  Wanda felt the love you felt before you even said those words.  “I love you too, Wanda.”

You leaned in and kissed her deeply and she wrapped you in her arms, holding you close.  It was a deep and tender kiss.  One that wiped away all worries about bigots and fears of not belonging.  You loved it each other.  It was out on the table and it couldn’t be taken back.

She pulled back slowly and looked into your eyes.  “Alright,” She said.  “Change of plan.   We go right there and make lunch together.”

She heard your cheeky little thought about lunch not being what you wanted to eat, and when you hopped in the passenger seat and made yourself invisible, she squeezed your thigh playfully.

It was another half an hour before you reached the cottage by the ocean.  It was exactly like the pictures.  Small, quaint and just old enough for it to be charming.  It looked out over the ocean, that was dotted with lobster fishing boats and recreational yachts of various sizes.  Behind it was a small patch of woodland that echoed with the sound of bird calls and woodpeckers hammering away at the trunks of trees.

The two of you had made lunch together and then ate it out of the patio, watching was the tide rolled out.  When you’d eaten you’d taken a walk, hand-in-hand along the beach and then made your way back to the cottage where you cuddled on the couch for a little while.

You nuzzled at her neck and placed a soft kiss at the dip of her collarbone.  “Are we waiting for any reason?”  You asked.

Wanda blushed and shook her head.  “No,” she admitted. “I guess I’m overthinking it.  We wanted it to be special.  But when’s the point that it’s special enough?”

You smiled and leaned your forehead against hers.  “It’s special enough.”

She captured your lips and kissed you deeply.  It soon turned hurried and a little desperate as you both nipped and bit at the other’s lips.  You stood, not breaking the kiss and pulled her with you to the bedroom.  When you reached it you both hurriedly stripped.  Sometimes taking each other’s clothes off. Sometimes focusing on your own.  When you were both naked, Wanda took a step back.  She looked you up and down, seeing you the way no one had.  She took in every imperfection that made you completely perfect to her.

“You are so beautiful.”  She said and kissed you deeply.

You pulled her back onto the bed and the two of you kissed, pressed tightly together. She moved her thigh between your legs and you rocked your hips, grinding your pussy on her bare skin, smearing your wet over it as she did the same to you.  You teased and massaged each other's breasts and her arousal grew and seeped out onto your skin.

You pushed her onto her back and kissed your way down her body.  You took your time, sucking and biting on her nipples until they ached and that ache traveled through her to her cunt.  Sucking and patches of her skin long and hard enough to leave a trail of marks down to her cunt.  By the time you ran the tip of your tongue up her folds, her whole body ached for that touch.  She was a live wire, right on the edge.

You took your time though.  Dragging it out.  There was no rush to bring her to climax.  Rather you seemed to want to postpone it and make her beg for it.  You licked wide, swirling your tongue around, drinking up as much of her as you could.  You sucked her clit into your mouth and pressed your lips around it.  You eased a finger inside her and curled it, stroking her inner walls.

“Yes!  Just like that.  Deeper!  More pressure!”  Wanda cried and begged and pleaded with you.

You added a second finger and corkscrewed your wrist.  Your knuckled dragged over her g-spot and finally, with sweet relief, she came, arching up and crying out.

You stroked her through it and drank her up greedily, before crawling up to her and kissing her hungrily again.  Wanda sucked herself from your lips, the salty, tang that reminded her of the ocean air that surrounded you both.

She pulled back and looked into your eyes.  “Can you make yourself seen for me?”  She whispered.

You nodded and pressed your thumbs and pinkies together.  “This world is mine.”

Your thoughts filled her mind and she began to kiss her way down your body.  When she felt you take particular pleasure in her touch, she’d focus there.  She sucked on your nipples as she drew random patterns on your clit.  Sometimes she pressed hard and did tight little ones, sometimes she used a feather touch and swept wide over it.

She could feel the pressure as it built in you and she moved down lower.  She sucked on your pussy, filling her mouth with your unique taste.  Savoring it as she swept her tongue over your folds.  She pushed her finger inside you and began to fuck you with them.

As she felt you get closer and closer to your orgasm she focused on the things you were reacting to fastest.  Her fingers touched on the spongy surface of your g-spot and you bucked up wildly under her.  She kept stroking it again and again, and you got closer and closer to your release.  As you did, she felt her own building too, like the feelings from you were being transmitted straight to her cunt.

You cried out and your body jerked and spasmed under her, you cunt squeezing tight around her finger.  She moaned into your pussy as she came again, your own orgasm dragging one out of her too.

She crawled back up your body and you wrapped yourselves around each other, kissing deeply.  She was so content and in love with you in that moment.  You had come so far since the blank space in the world you created alerted you to your existence.  Maybe it was fate.  Whatever the case, you were together now, and she would make a new place in the word for you together.

~ END ~

[dazaineedshelp]

There was a subtle shift in the air between them. Maybe it was his inner cat, with eyes adapted to catch rapid movements of prey, or perhaps his repressed abandonment issues, but Atsushi just knew. He was not oblivious, nor blind.  

The polite smile that hasn’t reached his eyes when Atsushi offered him a freshly brewed coffee last Friday morning. The indifferent look, wandering all around the office, refusing to meet with his own questioning gaze. His posture stiffening whenever the boy entered the room, whether it was with armfuls of papers or a tray of still-warm donuts. Dazai was clearly distancing himself, not in general - from him, specifically. Aside from avoiding Atsushi, nothing much changed in his usual doings. Still messing around with Kunikida’s patience, still hanging out with Yosano at the lunchtime, still playing it witty with Ranpo while snacking more intensely than actually working.

And truth be told, why wouldn’t he?

Wet strands framing his pale face as the downpour kept roaring all around them. Atsushi brushing these stubborn curls out of his forehead, his palm somehow wandering down to cup Dazai’s cheek. So cold, why was his skin so cold? Silly, always forgetting to wear a proper scarf. His lips were chapped too, fractures rough under his fingertips. A few drops of autumn rain dripped from his hair and fell onto his eyelashes, and there was something so intense behind his gaze, something hungry in the way his breath hitched suddenly…

He flinched when a hand rested on his shoulder.

‘You seemed out of it for a while.’ There was a concerned tone lingering to Kyouka’s usual reserved voice. The boy just shot her an awkward smile and brushed it off with some light-hearted response, both going back to papers accumulated on their desks in hurry.

Atsushi could physically feel Dazai’s eyes rested on his back, but did not turn around once and rushed out of the Agency as soon as the clock struck six.

The cheerful ringtone cut through the silence of his apartment, sounding like a giggle at the funeral. He quickly put the foamy plate back into the sink and rushed towards the counter, but the name on the screen made his stomach drop.

He almost didn’t pick up. Almost.

‘Dazai-san?’

No response. Only raspy and uneven breaths. He could feel piercing anxiety hit the air out of his lungs, but he didn’t waver. Something was clearly wrong.

‘I am so sorry -’ a dry chuckle came out of the speaker. ‘Miss, click. That was just a. Misclick Atsushi-chan. My apologies-I’

‘Don’t you hang up on me! Give me the address, I’m coming to get you-’

Two squeaky beeps and then silence. Damn it.

He grabbed his car keys and run out of his flat and down the staircase, almost tripping over himself. Call it a sixth sense, but he was pretty convinced he knew the address anyway.

The cold breeze filled his lungs as he climbed out of his car, sending shivers down his spine. The bridge was empty, not a soul in sight, just a crescent moon illuminating the waves on the abyss-like waters. Atsushi felt a sinking feeling grasping his insides deepen, the darkest scenarios flooding his racing mind. If not here, then…

Down there.

A frail silhouette curled up on the top of breakwater proved him right. Atsushi didn’t even realize he was running down the slope, his legs seemed to move on his own, please don’t, oh my god, please just- When he reached the rocks, suddenly his body refused to keep going, paralyzed by the visions crumbling in his head. A shaky step forward, then another one, and another…

Dazai’s eyes were closed, the man clearly unconscious, but breathing. His chest would rise and fall, shallow puffs escaping his mouth, and Atsushi felt like crying out of relief. Now that he got that awful oh please don’t be dead you stupid son of a out of his chest, he was able to take a closer look at the ground, and once again, he felt like throwing up.

There were bottles, of course, quite a lot of them- vodka, a few beers, whiskey. But what made him sick were not the alcohol bottles, it was the smallest one, full of pills, that had slipped out of man’s coat when he shook him. Unopened, but clearly he tried, there were cracks and traces of teeth on the lid, childproof cap actually, and the boy just…

And the boy just threw the bottle into the ocean, cradled Dazai in his arms and brought him to the car. He avoided the holes on the way back, constantly fixing his mirror to look onto the backseat.

To make sure that he was still there.

If Atsushi was to describe the morning, it would be one word - awkward. After he tucked his friend in and put some water along with hangover medication on the bedstand, he sat in the gloom of his petit kitchen, desperately trying to figure out how to handle the next morning- to get out of the flat with the dawn and leave a heartfelt note? Or sit his half-alive friend through the wholesome preach while sobbing constantly? None of the options seemed realistic, not to mention that Dazai despised him now, disgusted by how he feels about him, so…

So he didn’t come up with anything that would actually work out and was surprised how quickly his overthinking made the time move. And now the sun was shining, Dazai started to stir around in the sheets, threatening that he is gonna wake up soon, and there was only one thing that the boy knew how to manage - the pancakes. Nothing can go wrong with pancakes, except maybe everything, because the man that probably hated him was laying in his bed, suicidal man, distant man,

the boy that he fell for.

But Atsushi made him breakfast anyway, because what else was he to do.

‘Hi.’

A small mumble escaped the mouth of a person behind him, and he stiffened without turning back. He decided on being distant, just as the man wanted it, but it would be impossible if he looked him in the face.

‘Good morning, Dazai-san. How do you feel today?’

‘Like I had dug a grave with my teeth last night,’ he chuckled and leaned by the counter, just a few inches from Atsushi, and he could feel how close they were- ‘whatcha cooking? It smells amazing.’

‘But you are not-’ he remarked, hyper-focusing on turning the pancake to the other side, ‘-so how about you go and take a shower, and I’ll finish the breakfast? I left you some clean clothes on the dryer.’

Usually, the response would be a loud protest about hurting his poor feelings, but Dazai just left without a word this time. No humming came from the shower either.

And then they were sitting in awkward silence, both munching their chocolate pancakes, not bothering to pick up a conversation. Too much unfinished business. Too much unsaid words stored on their tongues. Too much…

‘We should talk.’

Perplexed that the words had actually left his mouth, Atsushi shot an uneasy glance at Dazai, but there was no anger in his eyes. More like, defeat. They were completely numb, like when he told him to stay away, that he is disgusting, that…

‘Probably. I’m sorry for bothering you last night.’

‘You know that is not what I meant, Dazai, we need to talk about us not being able to work together, about the pills in your pockets, we were friends, so just-’

A strangled laugh broke in his desperate rant, and before he knew it, Dazai’s face was inches from his own, something dark in his eyes that made Atsushi shiver. He didn’t turn his gaze away.

As before, his lips were chapped and faded, deep eyeshadows and sharp cheekbones so close, raw, real, and Atsushi felt weak, so weak-

‘Were we friends, Atsushi? I don’t think I know such a thing. I’m not the best match for you, a warm, kind-hearted-’

- that he wanted to just bury his hands in the messy hair, bring this helpless boy close, keep him warm, safe-

‘-savior of Yokohama. I hurt, kill, bring doom, and you are not any exception-’

- and loved, because he was so scared, and now Atsushi noticed this void of fear, fear of the past, of the future-

‘- I would just hurt you, dear tiger boy. So,’ he finally leaned back slightly, his voice dripping with venom, ‘we’re better of without each other, Atsushi-chan.’

‘You’re scared.’

Silence. This time it was Atsushi who came closer to the man, almost pinning him to the wall, as he was too astonished to make a move.

‘The more you lie like this, the more I become aware-’

his voice was so shaky but he was not backing away, there was no turning back, now that he knew

‘- how terrified you are. Like there’s no new beginning for a person like you. Like there is - like there is no learning. But whatever you feel-’

he took a step closer, felt Dazai’s warmth and uneven breaths on his skin, looked into his wide eyes, reached out his trembling hand, to touch, make sure, no turning back

‘- you can tell me, and we will make it work. Because I care-’

their lips were so close he could feel man’s breath brushing his cheek, and he came only closer, voice turning into the whisper, now that

‘- and I know that you do too.’

Their lips met hesitantly at first, butterfly kiss so fragile and breakable, fluttering hearts and rushing minds. It quickly turned into the desperate passion, unsaid I missed you and Please, don’t let go whimpered by the way Dazai came undone with Atsushi’s tongue exploring his own, a wall coming to the rescue as his trembling knees almost gave in. The boy untangled his right hand from the brown strands and hugged him tightly, not breaking the contact. A small moan escaped Dazai’s mouth, and he was melting, dying and blooming all at once. He brought Atsushi even closer, their bodies tangled together, and-

and he, for a moment, believed in new beginnings.

[istheresomebodywhocanimagine]

Sorry for the bother but may I get a Queen and BoRhap ship please? I have that awful sense of direction, I got lost in a restaurant. I also will never admit publicly that I like someone. Hate to be told what to do and people prying into my life. Always calm and would never be rude to people. A caring and a friendly person. Ambitious. I'm 158 cm tall, a bit chubby. Metalhead. A bit of a tomboy. Major introvert. Hard worker. Overthinker. Open-minded. I'm good at learning new languages.

figured i should get one of these bad boys out of the way tonight before i rlly dive into my homework so here goes

i LOVE that you love metal i fuck with pantera so hard idk if thats the kind of metal you’re talking about but i’ve also seen FFDP and korn live so that was fucking unreal hi everyone yes i have the broadest taste in music ever sorry

ANYWAYS ships r below the cut :^)

For Queen, I ship you with Roger Taylor!

I almost said Brian, but I think you two would be too alike to last. However, you and Roger? A match made in heaven.

Roger genuinely loves that you’re a metalhead - he’s always up on trends, so the fact that you’ve got an in on the metal scene gives him the insight he needs to keep up with what’s hot and what’s not.

Also, Roger would love that you’re shorter than him - I mean, he probably constantly gets hell for being shorter than Brian, so that fact that you’re much shorter than him would be a source of great enjoyment/relief for him.

When you first met, you were in the same class as Roger, and it was a discussion-based forum class that you absolutely loathed - a group of maybe 20 of you, sitting in a circle, discussing what went wrong and what went right in your labs earlier in the week - it wasn’t required, but you got extra credit, and you always wanted to be able to improve on your grade if at all possible. 

And since Roger didn’t want to piss off his parents with low marks while he was supposedly off at college ‘studying,’ he showed up too.

Roger was the only person that made the class bearable - he sat next to you, and he was constantly peeking over at your notes, chuckling when you wrote things like ‘instructor has no earthly idea what they’re talking about’ ‘this is wrong’ and ‘how does he even have a degree to teach this’

One time, Roger was so amused by your notes that he laughed out loud, interrupting a discussion between another student and the instructor, who looked at him and asked him to say what he thought, if he was so amused by what they apparently got wrong.

He glanced at you, hopeless - he hadn’t been paying attention, but you had, so you nonchalantly wrote ‘control group is not tablet and water - just water,’ then underlined it a few times. Roger glanced down, then nodded imperceptibly before folding his hands together and leaning over the desk.

“You lot are talking as if the control group is the antacid tablet AND the water - it’s just the water.” You marveled at how confident he sounded as he said so, and his blue eyes quickly met yours, sending you a charming grin before he was called upon again.

“The control group is the tablet fully dissolved in water, mate.” The student who had been bantering with the instructor was clearly upset Roger had insulted their intelligence, so they decided to challenge his.

“Actually, he’s right,” you chimed in, your voice quieter. Usually, you’d only speak when called upon in this class, but you knew Roger couldn’t bullshit his way through this one completely. “The control group is technically the water, untouched by the tablet. It’s affected by no variables, making it the control group.”

It was Roger’s turn to marvel at your sudden burst of confidence, and after class, he caught up to you in the hall to thank you. He’d always thought you were kind of cute, so this gave him his excuse to talk to you outside of class.

“Hey, I owe you one for what just happened back there,” he said, matching your pace as you headed for the front door of the building. Although he had class immediately after, he made a snap decision to skip so he could go wherever you were headed.

“Oh, it was no big deal, they’re morons,” you replied, a rosy blush creeping up on your cheeks when you glanced up at him, finding his gaze to be directly on you. When he held open the door for you, you thanked him, and he continued to walk with you as you headed back towards the dorms where you were living. 

“I’m Roger, if you didn’t know,” he introduced, holding out his hand for you to shake as you walked, and you shook his hand gently, smiling at him. “We should study together sometime - you seem like you know a hell of a lot more about this than I do. Actually, are you busy right now?”

And that’s where it all started.

Your ambition and drive to learn satiates Roger - both of you feed off of each other’s energy, constantly teaching each other new things and always trying to participate in new experiences.

But for smart people, you and Roger (especially Roger) can have your moments of being airheaded. What would life be without those moments anyways? 

If you had a good sense of direction and Roger wouldn’t be so stubborn about neglecting his glasses, you would have never ended up in book club in Lower Manhattan instead of an actual club.

It was one of their later US tours, and Roger had flown you out to NYC to see them play Madison Square Garden. Afterwards, you’d opted to go out alone, and it was a nice night out, so you two took off in your rental car with the top down, enjoying the only slightly smelly NYC air and the sound of relentlessly honking cars. 

Quickly, you found yourselves lost as you tried to follow the directions the manager had given you, which was a pointless attempt. You were humorously exasperated, but your calm nature let you continue to be more amused than anything.

“Roger, please just let me turn around and go back to the venue - you know I’m bad with directions.”

“Absolutely not, I’d rather die,” he dismissed, making you laugh in slight exasperation as you stopped at a stoplight, dropping your hands into your lap. “Now where are we going next, sweets?”

“I don’t know, Rog,” you groaned, holding your head in your hands. “What does that street sign say?”

“I dunno, it’s blurry to me,” he grumbled, making you laugh again at his horribly serious need for glasses. “Don’t laugh at me! I’m crippled.”

“Did you bring your glasses when you left for the US?” you asked pointedly, and Roger nodded furiously as you pressed on the gas when the light turned green, advancing forward towards God knows where. “Then why were they on the nightstand when I left a couple days ago?”

“Imposters!” he joked, distracting you and making you laugh as you shook your head. When you were unmoved, he leaned over the center console and pressed a noisy, wet kiss to your cheek, making you shrug him off and laugh. “I’m just taking the piss, please don’t put me in time out for forgetting them. I love you.”

“Uh huh... forgetting,” you replied, using a playfully disbelieving tone before you sighed and looked around at the street signs, spotting one makeshift sign on the sidewalk that had an arrow and said ‘The Club’ and nothing else. “Well, that’s convenient. The Club. Let’s stop there.”

When you finally made it to the door, you walked in hesitantly. It didn’t seem like the type of building to be housing a dance club, but Roger was all for the simplicity of the name, so he led you in, quickly realizing that you were not in a dance hall, but a library.

“Oh my god, Roger,” you whispered, looking around at the stacks of books before meeting eyes with a group of middle-aged ladies who were holding copies of A Clockwork Orange. “This is a book club. They’re reading A Clockwork Orange. We’ve got to go.”

“Ooh, I love that book!” he said out loud, approaching the ladies without a hint of fear in him and turning your nerves all the way up to 11 as you reluctantly followed, still laughing to yourself at Roger’s unbelievable extroversion. “Come on, Y/N! Now ladies, what do we think of Dim and Georgie so far?”

And for BoRhap, I ship you with Joe Mazzello!

You’re a tomboy? Joe genuinely nuts for tomboys, for lack of better wording. 

He loves taking you to baseball games, whether they are for the Yankees or for the team that his brother coaches. You don’t mind the down and dirty nature of the game - after all, you aren’t exactly the ribbons and bows type. 

Speaking of baseball, you two met on the set of Undrafted. You were actually an old friend of Duke’s who lived in the area where they were filming - Joe had cast him as Ty, a tense character, and Duke had brought you along, saying he needed you as an extra body to sit in the crowd.

But really, he’d brought you along so you could zen him out when he needed to relax on breaks - your calmness always helped him chill, and he knew from the script that quite a few of the actors could use your balance when they were filming the high intensity scenes.

Joe was probably the most intensely angry character in the movie, and you noticed that very early on. You were seated near their dugout, pretending to text on an outdated Blackberry, when a bat came flying at the fence in front of you, making you jump slightly as it hit the chain links and bounced to the ground, rolling away from you.

“Sorry, bad aim,” Joe grumbled as he came to grab the bat, still partially in character, and you couldn’t help but send him a smile as he straightened back up, bat in hand.

“It’s alright, don’t worry.” The mellow sound of your voice intrigued Joe, and he gave you a slow nod before smiling a bit and turning back to go do the shot again. In fact, your mellowness was infectious, and exactly what he needed - the next shot, he absolutely nailed his intended target with the bat.

Once everyone had decided to take a lunch break, Duke came over to join you on the small set of bleachers, shaking some dust out of his hair before replacing the ball cap.

“What’s good for grub around here?” Duke asked, sitting down next to you. As you opened your mouth to answer, you heard a pair of baseball cleats crunching over gravel as they jogged nearer, then stopped in front of the two of you.

“Where are you two headed? Can I bum a ride?”

In front of you stood Joe, far calmer now, and far more attractive when he was up close. 

“That’s up to Y/N here,” Duke replied, standing up to join Joe and helping you off the bleachers. Now that you were standing, Joe was easily taller than you, and you almost wished you were at eye level again due to the bleachers.

“Y/N? I’m Joe.” He held out a hand as he introduced himself, and you shook it gently, giving him the same smile you’d given him not too long ago and gaining a goofy grin in return.

From then on, you became Joe’s right hand set therapist for when he got too into his angry scenes, and he became your random baseball facts plug once he found out you had at least some interest in the game.

Joe’s extroverted nature balances well with your tendency for introversion, but sometimes, it causes small clashes. Thankfully, you’re so calm and have such a mellowing effect on Joe, clashes never escalate to the point where you’re actually arguing. 

Your overthinking also sometimes clashes with his impulsive tendencies. He’s a bit of a serial Instagram poster, while you have to stare at your posts for 20 minutes before you reword the caption and then post it after proofreading twice. 

One time, you’d been listening to some of your dearly beloved metal when Joe had come in, phone raised as he took a video of himself headbanging to the music, turning so he could get you in the frame. When you waved him off and covered your face with the other hand, laughing, he pouted playfully before ending the video.

There was a moment of silence as you heard him clicking away at the keyboard, then he joined you on the couch, wrapping his arm around you and pulling you into his side gently. “Work, work, work. Whatcha working on now?”

You snuggled into his side, resting your head on his shoulder, and a small smile formed on your lips as he gave you an affectionate kiss on the head. 

“Just replying to some emails.”

“The grind never stops!” Joe then pulled out his phone again, texting something to Ben on Instagram that intrigued you.

“Why was Ben asking about me?” you questioned, sitting up a bit as Joe smiled sheepishly and hid his phone from you.

“Definitely not because I put that video on my story.”

“Joe! We’ve talked about this,” you laughed, sinking back down into a slumped position as you shook your head. “I swear, I’m going to delete Instagram off of your phone one day and Facebook Live the meltdown.”

“Please, at least Instagram Live it. Who uses Facebook?” You rolled your eyes at the exaggerated haughty tone that he took on as he said so, then raised an eyebrow when a notification from Chace Crawford also popped up. “Oh, no, your boyfriend is messaging me!” he gasped dramatically, opening the notification.

You snickered at that, shaking your head again and watching as he read the message. 

When he was done, he made a weird look before pulling up the camera and starting to record a live video. You barely had time to react and cover your face as you laughed, Joe putting on a serious expression. “Joe, you’re fired,” you mumbled, holding your laptop over your face as Joe switched to a pout. Chace popped in first to watch, followed by Ben and Gwil.

“I’ve just been fired as resident boyfriend and now I think Chace is moving in. Can anyone please let me bum on their couch? Ben??”

You giggled and scooted away from Joe as he talked to the growing number of people on his live, lamenting that you were kicking him out. At one point, he fell against your side, whining as he read Chace’s comment.

“Chace says he loves you and to come over. Your response?” 

“On my way,” you mumbled as you went back to your emails, barely loud enough for the camera, but the chat went nuts when some people caught it, Joe zooming in on his face. 

“Chace, she hates you and says she never wants to see you again.”

“Not what I said,” you gently corrected, grinning as you kept yourself just out of frame of his camera.

“Yes, it is. I’ve just decided it is... Love you.” He paused for a moment, looking up at you expectantly, and you raised an eyebrow, glancing between him and his phone. “Say it back,” he whispered, still loud enough for everyone to hear.

“I’m gonna go take a shower,” you resolved, closing your laptop and sitting it on the coffee table as Joe complained loudly, calling after you in a mock sad voice.

“Say it back!”

[swans-and-pirates]

The Art of Remembering (4/?)

Summary: Killian hasn’t seen Emma in months, not since she ran off in the middle of the night. But when he receives a call from the hospital informing him that she’s been in an accident he rushes to be by her side. Nervous and anxious to see her again he’s not sure what to expect—but he definitely doesn’t anticipate that upon waking she would have no idea who he is. Modern au

Word Count: ~4,000

Rating: T 

Also on: ff.net, ao3

Catch Up: one, two, three

Killian hardly gets any sleep that night, and it’s not for a lack of trying. The whole night feels like a teasing game of hide and seek, and all he wants to do is find a full night’s rest without feeling like he’s waking up every couple of hours. But sleep continually slips out of his grasp and he’s left alternating between tossing and turning, or staring through the darkness up at his ceiling.

He knows where his restlessness comes from, and it’s a complicated layer of things, but when stripped down and left bare it really all comes down to one simple word.

Emma.

If he thinks about it, all his lack of sleep these days has had to do with her in some way or another. The night after she first left is still a painful blur of a memory, but he easily recalls the way he’d done nothing but tangle his sheets as he tossed and turned all night, kept up by the glimmer of a hope that maybe she’d return tomorrow.

She didn’t, and he’d spent many nights afterwards trying to learn how to sleep alone again.  His bed somehow suddenly too big and the nights suddenly too long.

But this time it’s not the stinging sensation that radiates from within his heart as he longs to hold her that is keeping him up. This time it’s an entirely different ache, heavy and deep, that leaves him anxious as he considers everything.

He wants to help Emma heal, but he’s not sure how. He wants to do everything he can to help her regain her memories, but at the same time he’s terrified of losing her again once she does remember. And it’s thoughts like these that steal his sleep.

Just take it a day at a time.

That’s what his brother had said to do, and bloody hell he was going to try his best.

But even with that conviction it doesn’t make sleep come any easier.

Too soon, the morning sun is spilling into his room and he groans as he grabs one of his pillows to cover his face from the offending light.

He’s typically a morning person, but right now he just wants to curse whoever decided there would only be so many hours of darkness each night.

It’s with an exaggerated amount of reluctance that Killian lifts the pillow from his face and reaches for his phone to check the time. It’s early, but he’s not sleeping anyways so he might as well get up.

With a groan he sits up and rubs a hand along his scruff as he tries to shake the tiredness from his bones. Before he stands he takes a long look at his closed door and sighs. Emma’s just beyond that door, and it feels like ages since she’s been this close to him, but at the same time she’s never been farther away.

He gives his head a frustrated shake; he really needs to stop doing this. He needs to stop dwelling on the past, and stop overthinking everything, and he needs to focus on how to be here for Emma.

Just take it a day at a time.

He can do this.

He just might need a hot shower to clear his head and some coffee to wake him up first.

----CS----

Emma’s groggy as she peels her eyes open and stares blearily at the world in front of her. It takes her a second to remember where she is, her brain taking a little longer to wake up than the rest of her. She feels heavy and still tired somehow, though she’d slept so deeply she doesn’t even remember dreaming. Which surprises her—she’d half expected to get no sleep at all, she’d certainly gone to bed with enough on her mind, but her body must have needed the sleep badly enough that it overrode her racing thoughts.

Gingerly she stands and begins making her way to the bathroom. She can’t tell if her aching body and searing ribs feel better or worse after not moving all night. But she breathes deeply and forces her muscles to move, and by the time she’s in front of the mirror walking is already a little easier.

Tilting her head as she looks at herself she sighs and reaches for the toothbrush Killian bought her and begins brushing her teeth.

She’s definitely looked better.

Everything about her right now is a mess—life and appearance included. Her hair is in tangles, and the way it’s standing a little taller on one side is a testament as to why she shouldn’t sleep on it wet. And then there’s the matter of the obvious bags under her eyes that match so well with the bruises she’s already sporting.

But as she finishes brushing her teeth and begins to drag a brush through the knots in her hair she can’t really find it within herself to care much this morning.

After putting her hair in a simple side braid, Emma exits the bathroom and makes her way down the hall. She can smell something delicious, and as she enters the kitchen she’s greeted with the sight of Killian silently flipping pancakes at the stove.

Even through the soft material of his t-shirt she can see the broad expanse of his back and shoulder muscles, and she finds herself a little distracted by the way they move as he shifts a bit on his feet. He must be fresh out of the shower because there’s a bit of delicious water still clinging to his hair.

She feels the slightest fluttering in her stomach, and though she might not remember him, she’s not blind.

Pulling herself onto one of the barstools, she bites her lip against a groan as the effort sends flames licking up her side. Once settled she rests her forearms on the countertop and inhales a deep breath through her nose. Killian finally seems to hear her and turns around, a light smile lifting his lips.

And she’ll deny it, but the fluttering in her stomach picks up just a little bit.

“Morning, Swan. How are you feeling?”

“Much the same,” she says with a tiny shrug. Though terrible would be a better answer, everything hurts and she feels a little lost and overwhelmed, but he already looks at her with concern dripping off every inch of him and she doesn’t need to amplify it. She’ll be fine. She’s always been able to manage on her own.

Though it’s not like she really has a choice at the moment—Killian’s all she really has. She doesn’t have anywhere else to go and anything else she might have had or anyone else she might have known, she certainly doesn’t remember.

And she tries not to dwell on this, because when she thinks about all the things she’s forgotten, all the things everyone expects her to remember, she feels like she’s being buried alive. And every time she’s confronted with something that she’s supposed to know but doesn’t, is just the sand being packed on a little tighter above her.

It’s somehow suffocating and lonely all at once.

Closing her eyes she inhales through her nose slowly before blowing the air out through her lips as she tries to focus on something other than her memory loss. She needs a distraction, and so opening her eyes, she returns her attention to watching Killian move about the kitchen.

Resting her head in her hand, she tilts her head as she considers him. “I’m surprised you have time to make pancakes, don’t you have work or something?”

“Today’s Sunday,” he says as he briefly turns to check on the pancakes in question before turning back to face her. “And I figured both of us could use some pancakes. What do you want in yours? I have blueberries, chocolate chips, bananas…”

He trails off with an arch of his eyebrow as he waits for her response. And dropping her hand back to the counter, she stares at the swirls in the granite before answering—because if she were to guess, then he probably already knows what she likes in her pancakes.

“Don’t you already know that answer?” And she doesn’t mean it to, but her question comes out sad and small. She really is trying not to let this memory loss thing bother her, and this is such a small and inconsequential thing, but she can’t help the way her chest tightens because of it.

“I do,” he answers gently, softness and understanding shining in his eyes. “But you don’t remember telling me, so I’m asking.”

Emma can’t do much but blink at him for a moment, he’s constantly blowing her away with his kindness, and she’s continually caught off guard with how aware of her he seems to be. How he just seems to know what it is she needs, even when it’s something she’s not sure how to articulate. How he can just tell that she’s overwhelmed, that she needs to feel as though she has at least some control over what he knows about her.

She licks her lips and blinks a few more times as she tries to stop staring at him. “Chocolate chips. I… uh like chocolate chips.”

“Chocolate it is then.”

He smiles again and Emma continues to stare at him as he makes his way over to a cupboard and pulls out the small bag of chocolate.

Unexpected tears begin to gather in her eyes and Emma reaches up quickly to brush them away. Doing her best to blink the remaining water out of her eyes before Killian can turn around and look at her again.

Who knew having amnesia would make her so emotional?

She feels a little frayed, like her insides are exposed and vulnerable.  

Taking a deep breath to gain control of herself again, she smooths her palms over the cold granite and straightens her spine before lifting her gaze to watch Killian cook.

It occurs to her that maybe doing something that keeps her hands busy will help keep her mind off of everything else. And so turning in the barstool she carefully slides off it and makes her way around the center island.

“Can I help?” she asks as soon as she’s standing next to him.

Killian must not have noticed her approaching because he jumps a little before turning towards her. Immediately his eyes travel along her face, lingering on her lips before finally meeting her eyes. He opens his mouth but doesn’t say anything, closing it suddenly as he lifts a hand to scratch behind his ear.

“Of course, Swan.” He seems a little flustered as he turns his head from side to side, searching the counter for something. Spotting what he needs, Killian snatches the spatula from its spot beside the stove and offers it to her. “You can flip the pancakes, I’ll…uh get the table set.”

He leaves her and Emma turns her attention to the pancakes heating in the skillet. They’re bubbling and look about ready to flip and so she slips the spatula beneath one of them and lifts it slightly to check.  Deciding it looks golden brown enough, she slides the spatula completely under and flips it.

It sizzles loudly as the uncooked side meets the heat of the skillet and Emma smiles slightly to herself. This is what she needs, something normal, something to distract her from dwelling on how much she’s seemingly forgotten.

Soon enough she’s helping Killian bring everything to the table and pouring syrup all over her already sweetened pancakes. Much like their last meal they don’t say much, and only the sound of their silverware clinking against their plate’s echoes through the apartment.  

As a result, the sudden knock that pounds against the front door seems to reverb off the walls as it cuts through the silence that had settled over them.

Emma snaps her head up, looking over at the door before turning her attention to Killian. His forehead creases as a slight frown forms on his lips while he looks towards the front of the apartment.

“I didn’t tell anyone to come over,” he half mumbles to himself as he places his fork down and pushes his chair back to stand up.

He saunters barefooted to the front door and opens it.

“David? Mary Margaret? What are you guys doing here?”

Curious, Emma turns a little more in her seat and cranes her neck to try and see who is at the door.

A small woman, with black, pixie cut hair, stands on her tiptoes as she hugs Killian briefly before pushing her way into the apartment.

“Killian, how’re you guys doing? I’ve been a mess since you called and told us what happened. I wanted to come sooner, but David said Emma probably wouldn’t even be out of the hospital yet. But I wanted to make sure you guys are okay. Do you need anything? I can always make dinner and bring it by.”

The woman says this all a little breathlessly as though she’s been bursting to get this all out for days. A taller man with blond hair follows her into the entryway. He has a baby in his arms and a diaper bag slung over his shoulder, and he chuckles lightly as he reaches out his free hand to shake with Killian’s.

“Sorry Killian, I tried to get her to wait as long as I could.”

Upon hearing the woman mention her name, Emma stands and takes a few hesitant steps towards the group gathered in the entryway.

Killian looks over at her and the concern she’s becoming very familiar with is back and swimming in his eyes. Looking back towards his friends, he steps to the side and almost completely blocks Emma from their view.

“I appreciate you guys coming over, I really do. I just don’t know if now is a good time. Emma’s still—”

“Emma!” Mary Margaret gasps, having finally seen her. She deftly steps around Killian and with a rushed stride makes her way towards Emma.

And before she can even register what exactly is happening, Mary Margaret has her arms wrapped around her, crushing her gently to her chest.

Emma stiffens, unsure of how to respond as panic surges through her and squeezes her lungs. Frantically her eyes flash towards Killian and she gives him a pleading look.  

She has a hard time opening up to people in general, and hugging is not something she’s used to, especially not with someone who feels like a stranger.

Thankfully, Mary Margaret releases her before Killian has to intervene. But the relief is short lived as the woman almost immediately replaces the hug with a gentle grasp to both of Emma’s arms.

“Oh, Emma,” Mary Margaret gushes. “I’ve been so, so worried. The second Killian told us what happened I couldn’t stop crying. But you’ll get your memory back in no time I just know it.”

Mary Margaret smiles at her with such joy and hope that Emma stammers for a moment, overwhelmed. Luckily she’s saved from having to say anything back when David steps forward and gently places a hand on Mary Margaret’s shoulder, pulling her towards him.

“Honey, I’m sure Emma’s had a lot to deal with, we don’t need to bombard her.” He turns his attention to Emma and smiles. “I’m glad you’re doing okay though, Emma. We really have been worried about you.”

“Right, of course,” Mary Margaret apologizes, stepping closer to her husband and placing a hand on her baby’s back.

The baby straightens from his spot nestled against his father’s chest and looks at Emma. Immediately she’s greeted with a gummy grin as the baby’s eyes light up and he pulls his fingers out of his mouth. He reaches for Emma, leaning out of David’s arms as he opens and closes his fingers and babbles a bit of happy nonsense.

“Oh do you remember Emma, Leo?” Mary Margaret coos at her baby before taking him in her arms and bouncing him lightly. “I’m surprised he seems to remember you it’s been a while since he’s seen you.”

Leo keeps reaching for her, and she’s worried that Mary Margaret is going to ask her to hold him, but thankfully Killian rescues her.

“Why don’t we sit down? Emma’s supposed to be resting,” Killian says just as he steps up behind her and places a hand at her back.

“Killian’s right, Emma,” David offers as he wraps an arm around Mary Margaret. “You’ll heal faster if you don’t exhaust yourself. We don’t mean to keep you on your feet, you should lie down. We promise not to stay too long.”

And with a kiss to his wife’s head David leads Mary Margaret and baby Leo towards the living room.

Emma’s insides turn to ice, keeping her frozen in place as she watches the little family situate themselves on one of Killian’s little loveseats.  

She can’t do this.

She doesn’t know any of this.

She flinches slightly when she feels Killian lean down and put his head close to her ear. “Are you okay, love?”

Emma looks at him and she knows he has to see the distress on her face considering she has no energy at the moment to cover it up—but she doesn’t know how to answer so she simply nods, even though she’s anything but okay.

It feels like there’s not enough space in her chest. Like something is preventing her lungs from fully expanding, and she can’t get enough air because of it.

Killian’s forehead furrows and he opens his mouth as if he’s about to say something but Emma shakes her head quickly and looks up at him pleadingly.

Please, not now. She can’t handle anymore. She just needs someone to let her be.

He seems to understand, because he closes his mouth and presses his lips into a thin line before sighing and dragging a hand down his face as though he’s equally distressed by this whole thing.

Numbly she lets Killian guide her to the couch, accepting the blanket he hands her. She sets it on her lap without unfolding it and breathes slowly, trying to ease the tightness in her chest as she looks at Mary Margaret and David giggling at little Leo.

“What’s Liam been up to?” David asks Killian once they’re all settled. “I feel like I haven’t seen him in a while.”

Killian’s still looking at Emma with worry pressing on his features and it’s almost like he has to physically drag his gaze away from her to look at David and answer. “Much the same. He’s become quite smitten with a girl at work. Elsa, I think is her name.”

“Oh he should bring her by sometime.” Mary Margaret exclaims as she bounces Leo up and down lightly on her knee, her fingers in the baby’s grasp. “We could have a little get together at our house, it’s been a little while since we’ve had one.” She turns her attention to Emma, smiling gently. “Everyone’s so glad you’re okay, Emma. I was just talking to Ruby the other day and she wants you to know she’s hoping you’ll be better soon. So many people are anxious to see you again. I think dinner would be the perfect opportunity.”

“Mary Margaret,” David interrupts. “I’m sure Emma’s not quite ready for that yet.”

“Oh yes, of course. I mean, obviously I didn’t mean right now, but maybe after your physical injuries have healed. I know Belle is anxious to see you. Regina and Robin will also probably want to come, and Killian you can make sure Liam brings this Elsa.  It can just be a small thing. We can even just do appetizers if not everyone’s up for dinner.”

And with the more names Mary Margaret mentions the farther away she sounds, until Emma feels as if she’s listening to her speak from under water. How many more people is she going to have to pretend like she remembers?

Looking down at the blanket in her lap, Emma feels her eyes start to water.

She can’t do this.

She’s completely lost track of the conversation, but when she looks up she can see Killian gazing at her anxiously from the corner of her eye.

“I’m very tired,” she says suddenly, effectively cutting off whoever was speaking before her. She just needs some way to get out of this room, to get away from all of this.  “I think I’m going to go take a nap.”

She moves to stand but Mary Margaret and David beat her too it.

“No, Emma stay, we don’t want to make you move. We’ll head out,” David says, placing his hand at Mary Margaret’s back.

It’s hard not to feel as though everything is pressing in on her. What with the way David’s looking at her with nothing but kindness and Mary Margaret gazes at her with an almost motherly concern as she shifts Leo in her arms, the baby babbling happily as he chews on his fingers. Then there’s the matter of Killian sitting in the corner, she doesn’t even have to look at him to know his eyes are drilling anxious holes through her.

They all obviously care for her, so overwhelmed or not, she does her best to smile and hopes it doesn’t come out too shaky.

Killian follows the little family to the door, and they exchange goodbyes that she can’t really hear. She hears the door click shut and the silence that follows is blissful.  Closing her eyes, Emma sighs as she leans back against the couch.  

“Swan, I’m so sorry about that. I had no idea they were coming over. David’s my mate from college and—” He cuts off with loud sigh and Emma opens her eyes in time to see him running a hand through his hair as he looks up at the ceiling. “I should’ve said something to them beforehand. I’m sorry.”

She doesn’t respond. Only because the tightness in her chest hasn’t quite left and she can feel the pressure behind her eyes start to build again, a tear finally slipping free as she looks out the window in front of her. And she’s scared that if she says anything she’ll completely lose what little control she has.

“Emma…I…Can I get you anything?” Killian asks, clearly struggling with a way to try and help her.

With a sigh Emma looks up at him, and she recognizes the torment on his features. This clearly isn’t just hard on her, but she’s not sure how to do anything but try to keep herself from drowning.

“Killian…I think I’d just like to be alone right now.”

His brow furrows and she’s almost certain that the anxious crease between his eyebrows is going to become permanent. “Of course—you can stay out here, there’s a T.V. and I have some things I can get done in my room. Let me just get you your medicine first.”

He does it quickly, disappearing for only a moment before returning with pills and a glass of water that he places on the table in front of her.  

“Don’t hesitate to let me know what you need, Swan.” He smiles at her, but like at the hospital it’s more of just a sad lift of his lips, and the smile Emma offers in return isn’t any better.

As he leaves, she reaches for her medicine and takes all three pills in one swallow before putting the glass back down and resting her head in her hands.

She can’t do this.

Her tears come freely now and she wipes at them as she sits up, gasping as she tries to breathe properly. But the tension in her chest only tightens.

She needs to breathe. She needs air.

Looking around the room she spots Killian’s keys resting on a small table by the door. And not even thinking twice, she pulls herself to standing and hurries to the front door as quickly as her injured body will allow. Snatching the keys off the table, she curls her fingers around them and brings them to her chest, closing her eyes as she tries to settle her racing heart.

She needs to be alone, she needs to think, needs to breathe. And she can’t do that here, not at the moment.

And so with a final shaky breath, Emma opens her eyes and looks back at Killian’s apartment for only a moment before slipping out the front door.    

[piratesandexplorers]

I’m quite enjoying these self-indulgent rambles about my childhood faves, so here’s another. The other day I talked about Nancy and Peggy Blackett. Today I’m going to attempt some thoughts on John and Susan, since I don’t think I stand a chance of getting all the Walkers into one post. 

So here you are: The Captain and Mate of the Swallow.

 I’ve always loved John and Susan, even though I can understand the people who find them boring. I think it’s refreshing to see characters like them represented in kids’ fiction. You might say John’s too serious, or even that Susan’s plain unrealistic for a child (I’ll talk about that in a bit), but in what other children’s book do you see such a range of different children with different skills and qualities, all celebrated for what they can do and the important role they play? I was never a Susan - I didn’t have her skills or any motivation to learn them, and I was much too disorganised. But I could understand her worries, and John’s too. I was also naturally a rule-keeper, not a rule breaker. I cared about what my parents would say, what strangers might think, and I noticed risks and worried about them. I wanted to do the right thing, and John and Susan are all about that. So in those ways, I always identified with them a bit. And I also loved their relationship with each other, because it’s based on kindness and mutual respect, and that only increases throughout the books.

The truth is, yes, John is a bit too serious. He is, especially in the early books, a bit inward-looking; he takes himself very seriously and puts a lot of weight and importance on his own actions and how people see him. But that’s not very unusual in a kid his age, especially (I think) in a kid who’s the oldest in a large family, and who has a father who is someone important. And of course, the fact that Ted Walker is away most of the time plays into that too. In his absence, Ted’s built up into almost a hero figure for John. It helps that when he is around, he seems to be a great dad who takes an interest and a pride in his children, who loves them (and their mother) and shows it. So it’s natural enough that John would want to follow him, to become someone like that too.

One thing John never wants to do is let his parents down, and when he thinks he has done that, he beats himself up endlessly about it. Susan is the same, but their subtly different roles in the family mean that that’s one thing Susan worries less about than John does. Susan is responsible for providing regular meals and making sure everyone goes to bed on time and nobody hangs around in wet clothes and gets ill. She’s good at that, she knows she’s good at it, and generally she can still do it even under less-than-ideal circumstances, so she can rely on herself without worrying. John, though, is the one who ultimately makes decisions for the four of them. When Susan freaks out, it’s usually because someone’s actual safety is at risk, but John is at his most unhappy when he feels that he, personally, has failed at something. Partly it’s his need to succeed, and partly it’s his need not to let his parents down, but really you can’t separate those two things for John. Success is making his family proud, and being as much like his father as possible.

I don’t think we see that lessening at all in John, and I think it’s probably going to be a motivating factor for him all his life. What we do see is a growing confidence; the more he does to prove himself, the less he needs to prove himself. In the early books, we see him make mistakes, mostly due to stubbornness and pride. And yes, there’s an element of competitiveness with the Amazons, but really the only person John’s competing against is himself. The amount of growing up the kids do within the books is subtly drawn, without many references to their actual ages or outside milestones, but for John the main thing I see is that he goes from someone whose decisions are frequently misguided (although well-meaning), to being the one who usually makes the right call, and has the skills to follow through on that call.

But what I always come back to with John is that he’s just a thoroughly nice person, and again, that’s an often underrated characteristic in fiction. One of the things I’m most wary of about the recent film is how they seem to have butchered his personality. John Walker is polite and respectful. He may idolise his father, but he also loves, admires and trusts his mother. He’s kind to his younger siblings, enjoys their company and takes care of their wellbeing. On no occasion does he show any signs of seeing girls as anything but his absolute equals, or have any thought that they should be anything other than equal (a common trait in Arthur Ransome’s children, I have to add). He acknowledges when other people are more skilled or knowledgeable in a particular area than him, and is happy to defer to them, even if they’re younger than him. Sometimes he even does that when they’re not necessarily more qualified to take the lead than him, simply because it’s the respectful thing to do under the circumstances, for example in his attitude to Peggy in Winter Holiday. I have no doubt at all that John will get where he wants to go, and that he’ll be the kind of naval officer that all naval officers should be.

For all I love her, I’ve found Susan one of the hardest to pin down in words. There are all the obvious things to say – Susan is the rock of her family. She’s the mother hen of the group (the Mum Friend if we were talking about modern kids), she’s the rule-keeper, the sensible, responsible one, the one the adults trust. And (maybe more surprisingly), she likes that role. Those aren’t skills and characteristics she’s needed to develop – she has two loving, dependable parents and a comfortable, well-off life; there’s no necessity for her to look after anyone. It’s just who she is.

It’s easy to see why she might be labelled as boring or even unbelievable as a child character. There’s an argument to be made that Ransome created Susan as a plot device, as the only way such young children could actually be capable of living alone on an island. Supporting that, she’s also the character who shows the least obvious growth and development (because she’s the most grown up to start with). But even if that’s part of the reason he wrote her the way he did, I don’t think that’s all she is, and I don’t think that’s all Ransome saw her as.

Susan is in many ways also the emotional touchstone of the stories. She’s probably the one we see the most raw emotion from – examples include big moments like her complete terror in We Didn’t Mean to Go to Sea, and small ones, such as the expression Titty catches on Susan’s face when Mrs Tyson believes they started the fire in Pigeon Post. Susan behaves like an adult, and she also feels emotion in quite an adult way. She can’t live in the moment – she’s constantly thinking of all the risks and possible outcomes. And while most children have difficulty imagining a hypothetical situation with any real emotional depth and connection to it, Susan doesn’t – she feels a very adult horror associated with things that haven’t actually happened. The others, particularly Nancy and John (unsurprising, as they’re the oldest) show signs of that too now and again, but unlike them, Susan can’t brush it off or put it behind her easily.

Part of Susan’s realness lies in the contradictions in her character. She somehow manages to tread a line between being very decisive (and somewhat immovable in her decisions) and being an overthinker and a worrier. But Susan’s worries are less about herself and her own capabilities, and much more about outside circumstances and situations. She’s pretty confident in her own judgement, and because she’s capable of doing very quick thinking and seeing all possible outcomes in a short space of time, her judgements are usually good and sensible. The times when Susan comes apart are when there is no obvious right judgement – when she cannot take over and make everything right, because circumstances are outside her control. Those are Susan’s worst fears coming true.

As I say, she’s someone who’s hampered not by any lack of confidence in herself, but by her ability to see worst-case scenarios. It makes her over-cautious, scared of risk, and at times lacking in understanding of people who either can’t see the same thing, or are able to see it but continue anyway. Her preoccupation is with keeping everything safe, ordered and comfortable (with the emphasis on safe), and that blinkers her sometimes into seeing the world only from her own particular perspective. She struggles to see that there might be times that risk is justifiable, and she also struggles with the whole idea of imagination that’s so central to the series. Unlike the others, Susan doesn’t find much comfort in flights of fantasy, because if Susan lets her imagination go, it shows her all these unpleasant and nerve-wracking possibilities. She much prefers to stay within the safety of her own perimeters, the ones she’s carefully created and maintained herself, and she can get irritated when people try to drag her out of them.

Susan’s development as a character is less noticeable than some of the others, because a lot of it is about growing into herself. The ways she thinks and acts aren’t as unusual in someone in their mid-teens as they are in a ten-year-old. But she also gains a more developed sense of perspective, and a more nuanced view of the world. Her gifts (and they really are gifts) are the things that enable all their adventures, and I think Susan learns to see that, and therefore begins to find ways for them to enable her personally, instead of limiting her.

But I think that one of the most important things in Susan is that she learns to see the value in other people and their differing skills, priorities and views on the world. I can’t imagine the Susan of Secret Water being nearly as dismissive of Titty’s imagination (or dismissing things Titty claims to have seen and heard as only imagination) as the Susan of Swallows and Amazons is. Her relationship with Bridget is another lovely example of Susan growing kinder and more tolerant. And that’s going to be very important to Susan in developing adult relationships, because at some point (and I don’t think she’s quite got there even by the end of the series), she’s going to have to learn how to depend on other people, not just be the one everyone depends on.

[later-marks]

dolph x mark 😘

NOT ANOTHER SHIP MEME ;; SUPER LONG EDITION

who would be the one to randomly adopt a puppy without consultation

Mark.

who would force the other to take aesthetic pictures of them

Maybe Mark? Dolph doesn’t really care about that and his pictures mostly look ridiculous anyway. He’s completely fine with just propping his phone up and making it work. But Mark’s cuter so Dolph’s happy to take the pictures as needed.

who would do stuff they think is stupid just to make the other one happy

Dolph because he just always wants to see Mark laughing and smiling and he’s also literally a dumb idiot.

who picks out the horror movies to watch just so the other will cling to them

Dolph. Although he’d always rather watch a comedy tbh. 

who is constantly studying and who is constantly trying to distract them

They both have short attention spans so it’s not like either of them focuses up very well LOL. If Mark is working on music or Dolph is working on comedy they tend to give each other their necessary space.

who initiates the facetime calls whenever they’re separated

Mark if only because he’s faster than Dolph.

who is more likely to storm out after a fight and who is more likely to cry when they do

Dolph storms out, Mark cries and it’s horrible and messy because they’re both dumb overthinkers. 

who stays up way too late binge-watching their favorite shows

Mark. Dolph falls asleep on the couch next to him. 

who bites the other’s ear when they’re feeling frisky

Mark. He’s just a smol affectionate bean.

who sprays the other with water when they’re washing the car

Mark wants to see a wet boy.

who has more fun decorating the house during holidays

Mark. Dolph mostly just watches and makes jokes.

who is more likely to give the silent treatment when they’re mad at the other

Although they’re both stubborn I think Mark would be able to give Dolph the silent treatment, at least for a little while. Dolph talks too much to be that quiet. 

who plays with the others’ hair more

Mark plays with Dolph’s more.

who is more likely to climb all over the other one when they’re bored

Mark because he is a tiny spider monkey person. 

who tries to kiss the other as often as they can

Mark and Dolph is never opposed. Mark is good with the small, affectionate moments. 

who pouts when the other one tells them to shut the fuck up

Mark and he has the BEST pout face.

who initiates the sex and who walks away when the other is riled up

They both initiate. Mark wants to act like he could walk away after riling Dolph up but he really can’t stay away. 

who always forgets the umbrella and who holds it when they actually have one

Dolph forgets and he is the holder. He lives in the desert so he’s not used to rain.

who demands showering first in the mornings

Neither particularly cares either way. 

who sneaks into the shower with the other one in the mornings

Mark is fully the shower sneaker.

who prefers riding the roller coasters and who prefers playing the games

Mark prefers the roller coasters, Dolph prefers the games. 

who will text the other one thirty times in a row until they respond

Mark because pay attention to him.

who always forgets to charge their phone overnight

Neither. 

who comes up behind the other and slide their hands into their back pockets

Mark. 

who tries to get hugs from the other as often as they can

Mark because he’s a clinger and affectionate. Dolph enjoys it. 

who is louder and who constantly has the tell the other to be quiet

They’re both loud and obnoxious but I guess Dolph is more overall and Mark is telling him to hush up. 

[ayellowcurtain]

SKAM NL S3 EP4 - Lucas Van Der Heijden

EP 3

-

Lucas is looking at the other one. Milan really doesn’t know him or he wouldn’t be there, talking to him now. But Milan has a smile that could make the world bow down to his wishes. If he only knew how much power he already has over Lucas.

“What? What are you waiting for?” Lucas frowns, looking at Milan and his skate. He’s already on it, doing little circles around Lucas while he waits for his answer. They’re in the middle of the school, with a bunch of teenagers passing by them constantly, sometimes looking back to double-check what’s going on between them.

“I’m not going with you on your skate!” He looks around, nobody is paying too much attention, but they are still at school and it feels weird to be with Milan in public. 

They’ve texted a little over the weekend, started right after the incident in the kitchen when Milan left Lucas and Esra to go home by himself. Whatever is going on between them it’s only getting heavier, stronger, but Lucas still needs to get used to Milan’s attention constantly on him like they’ve known each other or like they have something going on. Nothing happened, but it feels like it did. And it’s obviously a bad idea to go with Milan, they can’t fit in one skate.

“C’mon, just get on my back.” Lucas is sure that Milan can carry him on his back, but it’s so fucking dangerous.

“No, I know a bad idea when I see one. I’m sure Jayden can borrow me his bike.”

“If it was Kes with his mini scooter you would go with him.” Lucas looks up to meet Milan’s bright brown eyes. He’s teasing Lucas, but there’s also some jealousy that Lucas hadn’t notice before. And how does he know that Kes has a scooter?

So he’s jealous of Kes...

“Yeah, it’s a bike. Not a skate.” If Milan wants to be a little brat, Lucas can play that part too, they are barely acquaintances and Lucas doesn’t have the patience right now.

“Ok, whatever you say. Guess I’ll go home then. We’ll hang out another time.” Milan pushes his skate to start moving again, still looking at Lucas while he gets out of his sight, making a smooth right turn after the school gate. 

Fuck.  

Lucas shouldn’t be falling for this guy. He’s not at all like Lucas and he keeps pushing Lucas’ buttons, constantly trying to throw him out of his comfort zone. Yeah, he would go on a bike with Kes. Because it’s Kes.

-

Maybe Lucas was just misreading Milan. Maybe he just wants Milan so bad that he sees meaning and intent where there’s none. They don’t know each other that well, Lucas can easily be mistaken about Milan’s feelings. What’s stopping him from breaking up with his girlfriend if they’re not in love anymore? They seemed in love, making out while dancing together.

“Friday was fun, yeah, but I’m super busy with Zoe today, maybe another time?”

Lucas reads the message for the hundred time. Milan has to be kidding. It’s just a sentence, but Lucas feels guilty and dumb. Why text him and pretend like they haven’t seen each other since Friday? Why bring up Friday again? Lucas only said he couldn’t hang out a few days ago and now Milan wants nothing to do with him.

He drops his phone by his side on the couch, not knowing what to answer, watching Jayden and Esra eat whatever they made for lunch.

-

It was another long, sleepless night. Lucas is exhausted and also tired of not sleeping. Maybe moving out was a bad idea, at least at home he could always find some medication that would help him sleep in days like these.

“Hello” Milan passes by him way too close to Lucas, walking behind him and stopping on his other side, leaning against the green lockers. Lucas looks around, there’s nobody there and Milan seems to be in a good mood again.

“Hi.” He opens his locker, shoving some books inside and picking his notebook and some pen that he just randomly found in between his books.

“Are you going to whatever costume party it’s happening this weekend?” Lucas doesn’t ask for help, but Milan helps him anyway, coming closer and holding his books while Lucas opens his backpack to put everything inside.

“Not sure...you?” It’s hard, but Lucas manages to keep looking at his things and not at Milan. He doesn’t want to sound interested even though he is. He can feel Milan’s eyes tracking every little movement that he makes so he tries not to falter too much or the other one will notice what happens to Lucas when he’s around, looking at him like that.

“I might. We should hang out before, maybe drink some beers at my place, sounds good?” Lucas finally closes his bag, putting on his shoulder again, holding the straps of his bag tighter as he has no other option but to look at Milan now.

“...Sure.”

Milan gives him another one of the bashful smiles and nods his head, looking around them and then back at Lucas.

“Sweet. I’ll text you my address.” And he walks by way too close to Lucas again on his way out. Maybe this time they’ll finally be alone for a couple of hours.

-

The coffee table is already filled with beers and all kinds of drinks that Milan offered them through the night. Lucas was trying to be polite and sober, but then Zoe started talking about how she’s living with Milan for a couple of weeks and he couldn’t do it anymore.

Now he’s so close to being drunk. Lucas just started actually drinking and now his body is working in slow motion, he’s getting tipsy. His night was ruined. If he’s being completely honest, he thought it would be just him and Milan, but it’s not, it never is and when it is, one of them is always ready to fuck it up. Mostly Lucas.

Milan doesn’t seem happy either. He’s snappy and they are constantly disagreeing even in the smallest decision like what time should they order the pizzas. There’s no way Lucas is staying all night long with them and Emma.

Kes is out at some party and Lucas is more than ready to go there and get shit faced with his friends. He moves slowly to the end of the couch, further away from Emma, to grab yet another beer, opening it and Milan does the same one second later, catching Lucas’ attention with the loud pop he makes opening his beer. Lucas can see Zoe staring at her boyfriend with threatening eyes.

“I think that’s enough beers for a pre-game…” She tries not to sound harsh but fails and Milan looks at her right away, drinking his beer, clearly just to upset his girlfriend. 

“I think that’s enough of you for tonight or maybe this week, maybe a month…” He relaxes against the back of the couch again and Lucas just wants to leave right at that second and maybe even take Emma with him, that’s how bad their company suddenly feels.

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom…” Zoe gets up, her eyes are watering, Milan doesn’t seem regretful of what he said. Maybe he is, but he’s too angry and embarrassed to care. Emma gets up and follows the other girl. Lucas can hear when one of them slams the door at the end of the hall.

The only thing he can do is drink and look down at his own shoes, biting the inside of his lower lip. He can feel Milan’s eyes on him, but he doesn’t know what to say so he doesn’t say anything, just stays there if Milan needs him for anything.

“What time is it?” Lucas is caught a little off guard so it takes him a second to look at Milan and understand what he’s asking. He lifts his hips from the couch to grab his phone inside his back pocket.

“22:22” Milan raises his eyebrows, really looking at Lucas now, slowly getting back to his normal.

“Really?”

“Yeah...why?” Lucas puts his phone back in his pocket and drinks a little more as Milan turns his head back and finishes his beer at once, putting the empty can back on the coffee table.

“Must be a sign, let’s go.” Milan gets up, dropping his wig of fake golden locks of hair back on the couch, waiting for Lucas to follow.

“Go where?” Even if he doesn’t know if this is the right thing to do, where they’re going, Lucas gets up, leaving his beer behind.

“Anywhere.”

-

There’s no real reason for it, but Lucas’ heart is beating so fast. He feels like he could do anything right now. Milan keeps looking back and a little down to find Lucas and he smiles at him. His cheeks are just a little red from the breeze hitting him directly, but it doesn’t seem to bother him too much. Nothing seems to bother Milan right now. The wind is also making Lucas just a little more sober, but not enough to make him regret leaving two girls behind to go anywhere with Milan in his small bike.

He said it’s been a long time since he last used his bike, but it doesn’t seem like it, must be the adrenaline rushing through his veins, but he’s biking like a pro. Lucas has to hold back the urge to actually hug him, put his cheek against the soft fabric of Milan’s shirt.

Lucas couldn’t care less about someone seeing them, he’s happy and he won’t let himself overthink it.

Milan stops after a few more minutes. Lucas has no idea where they are, he was too busy watching the muscles of Milan’s back sticking out through the thin fabric of his shirt every time he needed to get up to pedal, but Milan is looking at their right and Lucas follows his eyes.

There’s a lake right next to the tiny lane they were just biking on. Milan starts moving and Lucas gets off the bike too, following Milan down the tall grass to get closer to the water.

Maybe they’ll just relax there for a little, Milan is probably a little tired. Lucas looks around. It’s a very wooded street behind them where they left the bike.  The full moon is right on top of the lake, giving it a pearl-like glimmer on the surface of the water. 

It feels calming, the water is almost completely still, there’s no breeze to cold down the summer night. Lucas turns his head when he hears a wet noise, Milan is getting inside the lake already, only wearing his black briefs. His clothes are in a messy pile on the grass right next to Lucas and he’s cursing as he walks carefully to get in the water, lifting his arms a little over his ribs to avoid instant contact with the water.

Lucas can see how he’s holding his breath, all his ribs showing as he gets deeper and deeper and then he plunges and reappears a second later, cursing again. It’s a very hot night, Lucas’ shirt is completely wet on his back, glued to his skin, and he unbuttoned the first two buttons to cool down when they got to the bike after running downstairs to escape the girls, but there’s no way the water is even slightly warm. Milan is clearly shivering and yet he swims a little, always looking at Lucas.

“Come.” He invites as he floats in the water. It’s tempting, but it wasn’t on Lucas’ plans to swim tonight.

“I’m not that hot, seriously.” He looks around again, there are only a few cars passing by the street behind the lake, but nobody seems to notice them there, it’s a narrow pathway to get to the lake from the street so they’re probably safe.

“C’mon, Lucas!”

“Milan, I’m tired and drunk...let’s just go somewhere else, please.”

“No, get in, right now! The water will help you relax.” Lucas takes a deep breath, looking around the lake, knowing well he won’t go anywhere if Milan doesn’t go with him. 

So he takes his jacket and shirt off, dropping on top of Milan’s clothes, walking on his tiptoes to the lake, making sure that he knows where he’s stepping. The water is definitely too cold, feels like knives are cutting the top of his feet, but Milan is right there, with a big smile on his face, waiting for Lucas and so he pushes through it, slowly getting in. His pants stick to his legs and it’s hard to move, but Milan is not that far away now.

“You’re fucking crazy.” Milan laughs and Lucas stops just to hear it, savour the loud and contagious sound. His whole body is shaking from the inside out, he’s so close to freezing, but this is one of those moments that he’ll always remember.

“You have no idea.” They’re sort of floating around way too closely. If Lucas moves his arms just a few centimeters, he’ll touch Milan’s naked arms or torso. And he wants to do it so badly, to know how his skin feels or if he’s as cold as Lucas is. He has to bite his lip not to say it out loud how badly he wants to kiss Milan. 

Maybe he doesn’t have to say it, it’s hard enough to be above the water, but they manage and Milan is always looking at him, saying a thousand words that Lucas wishes he could actually hear. He doesn’t want misunderstandings this time.

Milan is the one to come even closer, looking at Lucas’ lips and then to his eyes and Lucas just lets him do whatever he wants.

“Let’s see how long you can stay underwater.”

“I’m really good at this, you’re gonna lose. You sure you wanna try it?” Milan just smiles and nods his head, going just a few centimeters back so they can both have some space to swim.

They count down and sink at the same time, holding their breaths. It’s so dark underwater, almost pitch black, but Lucas can feel Milan close, the water moving with every move he makes. Sometimes the moon crosses the water and lights up just enough for him to see how close Milan is. Lucas forgets about how cold the water is as soon as Milan touches him, his hand quietly coming to the back of his neck.

Everything happens way too quickly for his liking, but Milan kisses him, his hand in Lucas’ neck holding him in place. It’s just a soft and messy touch of lips and it only lasts a second, but Lucas is suddenly out of breath, holding Milan’s wrist and emerging before him.

Lucas only has a second to calm down and not burst into loud laughter before Milan appears too, looking at Lucas with expectations, but Lucas is still recovering, trying to understand what just happened and Milan smiles.

“I won!” He moves his arms and they’re a little farther away than before. Lucas opens his mouth, but doesn’t say a word, he can still feel Milan’s touch against his skin, his lips against Lucas’.

“You cheated so it doesn’t count…”

“What? I didn’t cheat! There were no rules so I didn’t cheat!”

“I need a rematch then.” Lucas knows his intentions showed on the way he said the words, the way he is probably staring at Milan. He can see that Milan understood his words when he nods his head a second later. “But you can’t touch me.” Milan nods his head again, already taking deep breaths.

“Whatever you say.” So Milan does the count down and Lucas goes underwater, opening his eyes to watch Milan submerge right in front of him, keeping his arms open so Lucas can see that he’s not even trying to touch him again.

Milan is always smiling, but he has different smiles. The one he’s using tonight and right now tell Lucas all he needs to hear. He doesn’t wait, coming closer and kissing Milan again. His hands at the sides of his neck, pulling Milan closer and he’s still smiling and not touching Lucas.

He lets Lucas kiss him and he only moves when they’re going back to the surface, his arms finally holding Lucas by his waist, keeping Lucas close to him, pulling his entire body as close as he can get to Milan’s.

They stop and Lucas lets himself open his eyes and really look, not even bothered by the streams of water rushing down his and Milan’s face. It’s embarrassing how his breath comes out erratic when he exhales through his mouth, making the other one to smile again. 

Milan is in front of him, resting his forehead against Lucas’, breathless, staring back at him. His hands are holding Lucas’ waist tighter as a sign to go back to what they were doing and Lucas obeys, kissing him again. It’s hard to stay still and properly kiss when they’re also trying to stay above the water, but it doesn’t matter. Lucas is finally kissing Milan. It’s languid and too wet, but Lucas couldn’t ask for something more. He wanted this kiss for so long. And Milan is a good kisser, sliding his tongue along Lucas’ top lip to open his mouth wider and deepen the kiss.