#but if i had to get somewhere on wheels this would literally prevent me from advancing

[clutterbrain]

I love that comic for biking, but I just want to point out one difference between urban cycling and bus riding.

When biking infrastructure is bad, the only people who bike are exceptionally athletic and/or brave. But for people who use bad bus systems, it's not that they're more capable of making the bus work than other people - it's that they have no other options.

When I lived in San Antonio, I realized it would be faster to just spend 40 minutes walking home than it would be to get a 1 hour delayed bus. So I walked, and I never took the bus again after that. It was hot and time-consuming and there weren't always sidewalks, but I could walk in that little dirt path by the road and make it work.

You know who was still left at that bus stop when I gave up? People who can't just decide to walk. If you pay attention, you'll see who's actually waiting at the bus stops: elderly people, people with visible mobility aids, blind people. The actual population that uses America's shittiest public transit is NOT super intense eco-activists or people who just really love the bus and choose to put up with it, it's people who literally have no other option. They cannot drive a car, they can't just walk, they can't even travel by electric scooter or wheelchair because we *don't build or maintain the fucking sidewalks.*

What is left for them but to wait out that 2 hour delay?

People who only take transit may be expecting it but that doesn't mean it doesn't fuck them over. How can you keep a job or make an appointment if it's impossible to predict whether you'll be 2 hours late or not? Disabled people have shit to do too!!!!

Better buses. Every 15 minutes. And fix the fucking sidewalks!!!!

If you are thinking about it on paper, the bus running every half hour doesn't sound so bad, until you're waiting at the stop and you miss a bus or it's delayed. Then you're waiting a very, very long time. To people who never take transit, that's probably fine. Why do you care. To people who only take transit, they're expecting it, it's baked in their lives. But the important part, what really impacts our cities, is what happens to people for whom transit is an option.

The spiral goes like this. You go to take the bus instead of driving, thinking "I'm going to o have a couple drinks" or "I don't want to worry about parking where I'm going." So you take bus. First bus is right on time. But then you transfer from your neighborhood line to the line that takes you where you actually want to go. And your bus is delayed. And it only comes every 30 minutes. And then you're waiting, 40 minutes later, wondering where your bus is, knowing you could have driven there in 20 minutes.

Why would you ever chose to take a bus again? The bus made you waste precious time on your day off just sitting there. So next time you drive. Ridership goes down. When the transit authority asks for more money for more buses and more drivers, people point to the ridership numbers and say "why should we pay for this instead of paying for our schools/police/baseball stadium/parks/police again (let's be real that's who's taking all the money)?" If we want to increase ridership we need to actually design and fund functional transit networks. If we want people to actually ride the bus we need to make it a better option than driving, which means reliable service, which you don't get with a bus every 30 minutes.

Every 15 minutes, everywhere, all of the time.

[misculenica]

DA: Dreadwolf Thoughts & Trespasser Choice - and speculation of quests/choices

I've had a lot of spacing out time on my hands since I've been sick the past week (feeling better, dw)

I've been thinking a lot about that final choice with Solas in the Trespasser dlc; attempt to redeem solas, or, attempt to stop solas.

And that's a real headscratcher, isn't it? Because... That's the last interaction you have with the lord of eggs. Like... Why would this even be a choice to make, beyond dialogue/emotional fluffing for some kind of 'conclusion' that isn't even a conclusion to the narrative? It's a beginning, if anything. But Inky isn't going to be involved at all anymore, given the next protagonist in DW will be new.

So why the choice, and why is it framed like a serious game-changer choice? (not a dialogue wheel, a this or this kind of choice, like conscripting or allying with the mages/templars)

So I did some more thinking, and got somewhere ;)

Your (Inky's) choice to try and redeem solas or to try to stop/kill him will impact the narrative of Dreadwolf, and how missions will play out.

Inky (and what remains of the most trusted members of the inquisition - as stated in the comics; varric, charter and harding -correct me if I'm wrong); will be working towards an alternative to bringing down the veil or will be taking a more 'anything you can do i can do better' kind of role with solas, if redeem was chosen.

If stop was chosen, it will be much more 'kill any of his agents/bring them in', basically a lot more aggressively trying to stop him because he's getting close to doing it.

I can explain, but I will need to go back to Trespasser.

For clarification, what tipped me off to this idea was the specific dialogue from the dlc:

Now that's some interesting wording, huh?

"Try to convince Solas to change his plan"

And here's the varying dialogue for approval/romance etc

High Approval:

Romance:

"Solas, our love (is the) way (to) endure/unto death" (literal translation; "solas, our love (is the) way unto death/(to) endurance" (bless my solasmancer heart, the literal translation is kind of a nod to solas' greatest fear and how lavellan is trying to comfort him by saying essentially how he won't die alone because she's with him to the end/loves him beyond the constraints of life, and then this poor miserable bastard responds the only way he knows how)

(fuck you patrick thank you *cries* this is the most goodbye i've ever felt)

Low Approval:

You don't choose anything... Solas just kinda... Snatches your arm and tells you to piss off in the most Solas way possible.

Romance/High Approval

Now, allow me to rant about this dialogue.

The implication of the redeem lines are more telling than the 'stop him' ones, partially because it's very "you're being an idiot so your ass is grass"

But let me address the high approval lines:

"You don't need to destroy this world. I'll prove it to you."

I feel like this implies a lot for what comes next. But what could you mean by that? We're going to try and convince him there's an alternative. And my mind's racing for what that could mean for the plot of Dreadwolf, and what alternative could the Inquisition be seeking.

Here's what I'm thinking;

Dreadwolf's overarching narrative will be the same; prevent Solas from doing his thing.

However!

Based on this final choice with Solas, the language of the quests could change/what you're told about the Inquisitor will change.

For example; you're going out on the same quests, but the quests could be worded differently, or priorities change. Like... Sabotage/kill an agent of Fen'Harel but lose information vs steal information from an agent but let them go, or, beat agents to x objective vs neutralize agents seeking objective x

I think the game will allow us to go rogue on these decisions, however. I think Inky will be at the top of the order, giving orders down, but we as the player can choose to do what we want (naturally), depending on how we or our character feel about things. But the Inky's orders will be different based on that redeem or stop at the Trespasser choice. However, the missions/quests -for the most part- will be the same, only wording/language/priorities will change.

But I do feel like if you choose 'redeem' and go down a path of 'we need to be compassionate/understanding/prove Solas wrong - the game will very much punish us for it - it'll definitely get a lot of innocents killed.

If you choose to 'stop' him, you'll probably be given more aggressive/no nonsense objectives, and it'll probably bring the heat down on you more, but I feel like the game will encourage you to do this - innocents will die, too, but you'll get to blame Solas more.

Overall, bioware games tend to hammer home that 1. regardless of your choices, bad things will happen, 2. 'the ends justify the means' always leads to a persons downfall/blowing up in their face - leads to something far worse, 3. the road to evil is pathed with good intentions.

But I think the game will play into you as the player, and Rook, choosing to act with their own agency, even though they'll be working by the Inquisition's will - and this will impact Solas, and the rest of the plot and it's themes. Like imagine Solas bringing up the fact that a rebellious Rook acts with their own moral compass instead of doing what the 'hero' wants.

Which way will the droplet fall?

Unpredictability seems to be a thing for Solas and his plans, and it'd be interesting to see it brought up in Dreadwolf - especially as a theme and narrative device.

You can make plans, try your best, but ultimately, you have no idea what a person can/will do, nor how events will turn out (especially when you're attempted an act of god) - yes I'm comparing Dragon Age to Jurassic Park, and we better get a dragon roaring epically with a banner falling in front of it after it randomly saves us from darkspawn {I'm kidding, but damn that'd be cool) "Don't worry... That's the good kind of rumble!" - Bellara

Solas: You cannot stop me.

Rook: No... But they can ;) -->

I'm still going to stick with my theory that we're going to have to obtain the alliance with some powerful being to combat Solas, and I'll be damned if I don't get to pet a dragon in the next game.

[songmingisthighs]

Hooked

introduction pt. i | pt. ii | pt. iii

ch. liii - sugar daddy

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??? × reader, ateez × reader

A freshman hookup rekindled into something new. With an incentive, of course. But what would happen if your 'relationship' led you somewhere you never thought would happen to you ?

Dinner couldn't have gone better. Sure, Seonghwa's dad mostly ignored you, only throwing questions here and there to avoid Seonghwa's mom nagging at him. But he was mostly preoccupied with his phone. At one point, while his dad was so focused on his phone, Seonghwa leaned close to you and whisper 'one of the mistresses' to you, making you giggle.

"You know, (Y/N), I don't think I've ever seen Seonghwa smiled this wide when he's around us, you must be a pretty special lady," his mom said to you with a gentle smile.

You blushed in slight embarrassment at the compliment, "I sure hope so, ma'am, because I gotta say that he's very special to me too," you said as you look up to Seonghwa.

Hearing you said that made Seonghwa bit his bottom lip to prevent him from giggling out loud. So he opted to place a hand on your thigh and squeezed it gently, letting you know how he appreciated your words. Seeing this, his mom squealed and gushed about how adorable you both are and how glad she is that he found you.

Even after the topic was changed, Seonghwa didn't seem to lift his hand off of your thigh. He had actually moved to caress it gently with his fingers. You assumed it helped him be at ease so you didn't think much about it and let him be.

As dinner progressed to dessert, you found yourself having fun bonding with his mom and sometimes his dad when he wasn't glaring at his phone or when his mom directly addressed him. You realized that his parents are actually unlike most rich parents which then would explain why Seonghwa is who he is. Maybe minus the cheating father.

One other thing you realized is that Seonghwa's hand that was on your thigh had moved significantly higher, it was resting inside your skirt, just a bit past the hem, and that he was sitting closer than before. You felt your heartbeat quicken as his fingers drew shapes on your inner thigh, exhilarated yet worried and slightly embarrassed as his parents are directly across from you two.

"Honey, there's the Kims, we should go and say hi," his mom said, tapping his dad's arm and they immediately went over to the other table after excusing themselves for one second.

As quickly as they left, Seonghwa snapped his head to you in a panicked state, "quick, take off your panties!" he said in a hurried tone. You widened your eyes at him and stared at him as if he was crazy. But he kept urging you with a panicked voice, ultimately rendering you panicked as well. Nevertheless, you did as told and slyly slip your panties off and lift them with your legs to capture them but Seonghwa beat you to the punch as he took the panties and stashed them in his pockets. Just in time as his parents return to the table. Seonghwa sent you an inconspicuous wink and that was when you realized that he has a plan.

The first time he made a move was when you were taking a sip of your water. He let his finger roamed up and slip easily to your folds, almost making you choke.

"Oh gosh, dear, are you alright?" his mom asked you. You wanted to answer but you were still coughing slightly. Seonghwa took this as an opportunity. He used his perfect-boyfriend act when he pulled your hair out of your face and dab his napkin around your mouth, perfectly covering his other hand that managed to slip deep into your hole, almost making you choke again.

First strike.

His next move was when he was seemingly very much absorbed in a conversation about business with his parents, leaving you out of the conversation but still paying attention to you. Though his hand was still under your skirt, it remained stagnant and still.

But out of nowhere, as he talked about acquisition and mergers, his fingers pinched your clit rather harshly. You jolted up in surprise as your legs clamped shut, trapping Seonghwa's hand inside.

Again, his mom asked whether or not you were okay, and you tried your best to convinced her that you are despite Seonghwa's fingers' constant teasing. When Seonghwa turned around to look at you, you saw the smug smirk on his face and by God you never wanted to smack someone more.

Second strike.

The last strike was when you all were having dessert and Seonghwa pretended to have dropped his fork. You were on edge since he had taken his hand out for a while and the slick in your pussy had started to bother you.

He ducked down under the table just as you shifted the position of your legs. He saw his, literal, opening and slotted his face between your legs and licked a stripe up your pussy. Thank God for the table cloth or else you both would've been kicked out of the restaurant for sure.

You let out a sharp squeak which was thankfully held back a little because you had your mouth close.

Just as quickly as you reacted to him, Seonghwa also quickly returned to his position, playing the act of a perfect, doting boyfriend. "Baby, you okay? You don't look well," he made a fuss by pressing the back of his hand to your forehead and cheeks which were red because you've been blushing out of embarrassment and arousal.

"You know what, Seonghwa, sweetie, you should really take (Y/N) here home, take care of her, alright?" his mom said.

You smiled sheepishly at her and also to Seonghwa's dad, "I'm so sorry I had to cut things short," you told them. Seonghwa's mom laughed wholeheartedly at you as she waved her hands around, "it's no problem at all, darling. Besides, we're going to meet each other again soon, I'm going to make sure Seonghwa bring you to family dinner, okay?" she smiled warmly at you. Even his dad managed to look up at you and smiled genuinely.

After bidding your goodbyes to both of them, Seonghwa took your hand in his and immediately ran out to get his car from the valet. As you both waited, you grip on the lapel of his blazer and tugged him close to you, "how fucking dare you," you muttered lowly.

Seonghwa smirked and brushed his lips against the skin of your cheek, "can't help it baby, you looked so damn good and knowing I prettied you up made me... hungry," he growled. His lips moved to your ear to inconspicuously nibble on your earlobe, "who's your daddy?"

Your legs almost wobbled at that. If Seonghwa hadn't had his arm around you, you sure would've dropped to the ground and let him take you then and there.

But thankfully the car came right at that moment and to say you bolted yourself into the car.

Once Seonghwa got onto the driver's seat, he gripped onto your arm and stared at you intently, "you are not to touch yourself, you got me?" he stated. You stammered, you wanted to protest but he only stared at you, unmoving.

You jutted your lips and crossed your arms in protest, staring forward in disappointment. Much to your surprise, Seonghwa smacked your thigh hard enough to make it red, "I said, you got me?" he stressed each word, indicating that he needed verbal confirmation from you. "y-yes, I understand, I won't touch myself," you whimpered.

Satisfied, Seonghwa rubbed the reddened spot on your thigh and began driving.

Whilst Seonghwa was focused on driving, an idea popped into your head. A quite dangerous one at that. But you really wanted to get back at him for playing with you in front of his parents. You didn't know what made you decide on going forth, but you were sure your horniness had a large play.

Quickly getting yourself to work, you had somehow managed to unzip Seonghwa's pants and whip his hardening dick out. You licked your lips at the sight, your hand began stroking him as the other settled on his thigh in order to stabilize yourself.

Quickly getting yourself to work, you had somehow managed to unzip Seonghwa's pants and whip his hardening dick out. You licked your lips at the sight, your hand began stroking him as the other settled on his thigh in order to stabilize yourself.

"What are you-" Seonghwa's words were cut off with his own moan as you delved down to take his dick deep in your mouth. Hearing him moaned out only egged you to go on further.

You deepthroated Seonghwa as best as you could, sucking him whilst letting your hand play with his balls.

"B-baby, you ca-an't do this," he said through gritted teeth. You peered up only to see his eyes glued to the road, but his hands were gripping onto the steering wheel so tightly, his knuckles turned white. You took him out of your mouth to pump him in with your hand instead, you rested your head on his thighs and looked up to him with a pout on your face, "you said I couldn't play with myself, well I'm not! I'm playing with you, you and your pretty cock," you proceeded to lick along the vein of his dick.

Seonghwa groaned as his resolve started to wither away. Even whilst preoccupied with Seonghwa's dick, you could feel that he was speeding to go back.

With every suck or pump, Seonghwa's dick hardened and along with that, his need to cum. It was a gamble, sure, but you couldn't help yourself. It was a sudden automatic urge to tease Seonghwa. Maybe you could blame it on hanging out with Wooyoung too much.

You continued bobbing your head on Seonghwa's cock as quickly as you can. You started something and you wanted to make sure that you're going to finish. And by finish you meant him cumming down your throat.

Due to being so focused on Seonghwa's dick, you hadn't realized that you both had arrived at the frat. The car came to a full stop in front of the frat and was put in park.

Just as you were about to release Seonghwa from your mouth, Seonghwa held your neck and groaned, "you best keep your head there until I cum so deep down your throat that you'd choke," he ordered.

You happily obliged and returned to work him. Seonghwa's demand to make him cum only encourage you. You'd bob your head on him, fondle his balls, graze your teeth against his tip, and squeeze his dick. It proved to be very effective as Seonghwa threw his head back and began to thrust his own hips up to your mouth, wanting more.

His lips began calling out your name in moans. You could imagine his eyes screwed shut as he desperately chased his release.

It wasn't until two, three more deepthroating that he came in your mouth. You could feel his dick twitched in your mouth as his warm cum trickle down your throat. The feeling made you moan and the vibration of your voice shot up from his dick to his spine, making him shudder.

You managed to swallow all of him clean, not leaving a single drop out. After you detached yourself from his dick, you could feel that he was about to pull you in for a kiss. But you expertly evaded him and dart out of his car into the frat instead.

"Hey- wait!" Seonghwa called out, cursing and immediately shoving his dick back into the pants and lock the car to follow after you.

When you walked into the frat, you ran past San and Jongho who were on the couch, watching something on the tv. You ran straight to the staircase and aim for Seonghwa and Hongjoong's bedroom.

Maybe it was because you weren't exactly running away from him, or maybe he was really just that fast, but he caught up to you mid-step and heave you up onto his shoulder wordlessly. He sent a spank onto your ass, making you yelp loudly. The sound of your voice didn't break his focus as he immediately entered your room.

As soon as he put you down on the floor, he gripped onto your chin and kissed you roughly.

"Strip naked for me," he said against your lips before letting you go. The serious tone in his voice made you hurriedly tug all of your clothes off and simply shove them to the side somewhere.

When you finally looked up, you saw Seonghwa on your bed, naked with his cock in his hand. He motioned for you to come to him with one hand while his other one was sliding up and down his slick shaft. The sight was so arousing, you could've sworn your juice leaked out of you.

"Ride me," he ordered as soon as you arrived next to the bed. You immediately obliged, throwing a leg over him and immediately slip his dick inside your pussy. Both of you moaned loudly when you felt how he filled you up and he felt how warm you are.

"Fucking move baby, I need you so bad," Seonghwa moaned out. His hips rolled up against yours and immediately you took the hint. You anchored yourself on his chest and began thrusting yourself up and down his dick. You threw your head back at the feeling and let out a long moan.

Not wanting you to work by yourself, Seonghwa gripped your hips and began meeting your thrusts. The sudden powerful hit from his hips made your arms weak and you almost toppled over onto his body.

"H-Hwa, you feel so good," you moaned out, moving your hips faster on him. Seonghwa reached a hand up to your breast and began squeezing and playing with your nipple, adding to the pleasure even more. "You feel even better, baby," he said, tongue licking his bottom lip.

The sight of his tongue was enough to drove you almost mad. You leaned forward and crash your lips to his, locking you both in a desperate kiss all the while your hips move as quickly as it could, not minding the fact that you might be sore tomorrow. Tonight, you only thought about Seonghwa fucking you.

Both of you moved in tandem with each other. Seonghwa held you as close as he could, a hand wrapped around your waist and another grabbing onto your ass, squeezing the flesh hard. Meanwhile, you were busy exploring Seonghwa's mouth with your tongue, his own tongue would even fight you for dominance.

Maybe it was because Seonghwa had been teasing you all through dinner, but you felt yourself so close to the edge. Your pussy clenched on his dick, signalling him of your impending climax.

As if to tell you to cum, Seonghwa planted his feet on your bed and began thrusting at a pace much quicker than yours. Because you were on top of him, you could feel him thrusting deep in you, rubbing onto your sweet spot continuously until you froze and came on top of him. His lips prevented you from moaning too loud which was a shame but you couldn't really protest.

It took Seonghwa a couple more thrust into your clenching pussy before he completely emptied himself in you. Both of your cum mixing and trailing down your thighs onto his and even dropping onto the bed.

The once ferocious kiss changed to a romantic one as Seonghwa nibbled onto your bottom lip sweetly. You could feel him smile against your own lips.

"You did great, baby," he said, letting your body drop down fully on top of him. When he was about to slip out of you, you whined in protest and hugged him tightly like a koala. Seonghwa chuckled at your adorableness, he carded a hand through your hair sweetly and peck your forehead, "we gotta clean up, baby, you've got cum in you and everywhere else," he said.

You whined and buried your face onto the crook of his neck in protest, "do that tomorrow, I like having you inside me," you pouted. Though his instinct told him to remove you and clean up, he couldn't say no to you. He knew he has no power if it comes to anything concerning you.

So he defeatedly sighed and somehow covered both of your bodies with your blanket. He made sure that you were in a comfortable position before closing his own eyes to get some rest.

The last thing you heard was him telling you goodnight and then a soft peck landed on your forehead before you drifted off to dreamland.

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[13uswntimagines]

Your Ass Is Out of This World (Kelley x Reader)

Request: alex or kelley or sonnett x reader where they've been dating for a few years R is an astronaut for NASA and she gets to go to space

Author’s Note: Special thanks to @literaryhedgehog​ cause without her, none of this would have happened. 

Kelley wasn’t quite sure how she had ended up standing next to a dive bar sipping a lukewarm beer on a Friday night. In her defense, Ali and Ashlyn had convinced her it would be fun and had promised to pay for the Uber rides both ways. It had been fun for a while, dancing with them to some old 70s songs on the light-up dance floor, but half an hour ago they had disappeared off into a hallway somewhere, and she had no intention of third-wheeling (she knew she should have convinced Alex to join them). But she also wasn’t going to leave without them, because she wasn’t convinced either of them were sober enough to take any kind of transportation safely (someone needed to be there to make sure they didn’t puke in someone’s car).

So here she was, standing by the bar waiting for her friends’ sexcapades to be over, nursing her drink. The clink of a glass settling in front of her caught her attention. She blinked at the bartender. “I didn’t order another one,” 

The man’s lips ticked up and he shrugged. “Lady on the end paid for it. Said you looked sad,” 

Kelley looked up, following the man’s eyes towards a woman standing a few seats down the bar from her. She was also standing alone but was dressed as though for a different event altogether. Kelley had embraced the 70s theme of the bar slightly, wearing a jumpsuit and a scarf around her head, but this woman had just thrown a white NASA shirt--like the one Kelley got for her little cousin at Target-- over a pair of black jeans. As she bobbed her head to the music she met Kelley’s eyes and smiled. 

Kelley took that as her invitation to approach. Kelley’s eyes traced her form, lingering on the white material. She didn’t know those came in adult sizes...

“You must be a star, I can't stop orbiting around you” Kelley smiled charmingly as she approached you, setting her beer on the bar beside you and settling in the seat to the left of yours. 

“I do believe I was the one to buy you the drink…” you said, your lips twitching as you tried to keep a serious expression. “Shouldn’t I be the one throwing pickup lines here?”

“You bought me the drink, so I get to be the one to woo you. I’m Kelley, are you from Mars? 'cuz I wanna explore you with curiosity.” Kelley said, wiggling her eyebrows at you, enjoying the light blush coloring your cheeks. 

“Oh my god,” you groaned, “that was terrible. I mean really good but absolutely awful.”

“At least I got you to smile, but you still haven’t told me your name.” Kelley laughed, taking a sip of her beer. She was prepared to lay on the horrible pick up lines for your entertainment. 

“I’m Y/n,” you said, putting down your drink and holding out your hand, “pleasure.”

“They call me the milky way...Pleasure You Can't Measure,” Kelley smiled, shaking your hand as you laughed and pulling you a little closer “Why look at the moon, if I can’t touch it? Why look at your lips, if I can't kiss them,” she said, winking so you knew she was completely joking. 

“How do you know so many of these?” You said, shaking your head in awe. “ All I know off the top of my head is ‘do you work for NASA? Because you’re out of this world!’”

“Ah, a magician never reveals her secrets,” Kelley whispered conspiratoryly, bringing her hand up to cover her lips. “but my team and I have definitely had flirt offs for bonding nights,” 

“Your team?” 

“Yeah, I play soccer for the US and Washington,” She shrugged as if it wasn’t a huge accomplishment. 

Your eyes widened and you nearly spat out your drink. “Didn’t they, like, just win a World Cup?” 

“Yeah, No biggie,” Kelley said, side-eyeing you as she took another sip. 

“No biggie?  I’m surprised you don’t have a swarm of paparazzi shadowing you, that’s incredible! Weren’t the USWNT like the most successful US team in soccer?’

“Hm, there’s not enough drama for them, but we don’t mind. How about you? What do you do beautiful?” Kelley hummed. 

“Oh. I work for NASA,” you said, gesturing at the shirt. “I can’t wait to bring some of those lines back to work.”

“What??” 

****

“So do they at least give you a good choice of flavors? So you don’t get bored and stuff?” Emily asked from across the table, licking her dripping I cream cone. 

When your girlfriend decided to introduce you to the team after their match against Colombia, you were quite surprised she had chosen an ice cream shop as a venue. But with how food motivated the youngins seemed, you realized how appropriate it was. 

“I mean,” you said, your spoon suspended in the air as you blinked at Emily, “ice cream isn’t the only thing we will eat. I’m going to be on the station for like 8 months. Ice cream is not a balanced diet.”

“But it’s the only one they sell in the stores. You don’t have to lie cause the veggie lovers are here,” The defender said, leaning across the table, as though it would prevent the rest of the table from hearing her. 

“Babe, you literally love most veggies too,” Lindsey rolled her eyes, using her thumb to wipe a spot of chocolate ice cream from Emily’s nose. 

“Actually, I heard they’re a pretty good selection of dehydrated fruits and veggies and MRE’s and Tortillas and stuff. Plus I get to take a few things from home…” You mumbled, leaning back. 

She couldn’t be serious right? There was no way she thought you were supposed to sustain yourself on horrible freeze-dried dairy products for that long. Not to mention, freeze-dried ‘astronaut’ products for the most part weren’t actually possible to bring to space, with how crumbly they are. You were more likely to eat actual ice cream on the space station (less chance for an errant crumb being inhaled or destroying an important piece of equipment) than that gift shop garbage. 

“Oh yeah, MRE sounds way more likely than just eating the stuff they literally label as being for astronauts…” Emily said, rolling her eyes. “What does that even stand for? ‘Must reject Emily?”

You opened your mouth to answer, eyebrows furrowed, only for Kelley to nudge you softly. 

“It’s not worth the fight babe, trust me. Not the brightest lighthouse if you know what I mean,” Your girlfriend made a swirling motion with her finger next to her temple. 

You leaned in closer so your lips were nearly touching her ear. “She’s not serious right?” 

“I never joke about ice cream,” Emily answered seriously. 

You blinked at her, looking to your girlfriend who just shrugged and raised her eyebrows. 

“I’m, I’m not sure if they have a flavor rotation system for ice cream flavors. We haven’t been… briefed on that yet,” you nodded seriously. 

…...

“Can you hear me?” Kelley said, tapping her fingers impatiently as your face appeared in the video call. 

“He- -utiful,” You smiled through the glitchy computer screen. Your waving was broken up like a bad claymation. You leaned in to make out the fuzzy figures standing behind your girlfriend, assuming she was at camp or something. 

Normal long distance sucked, but literally being off-planet really made things difficult. It wasn’t like Kelley could just text you when she missed you, or randomly call you when she missed you at 3 am. Sure, she could email and you made a tremendous effort to schedule calls once a month, but it was still incredibly difficult (and slightly weird that a NASA tech dude had to monitor each call to make sure the connection stayed up). And sometimes even the best video-calling technology had issues. Like today (when a giant satellite or piece of space trash would block the signal). 

“Are you hav- -un at -amp?” You asked, grabbing your floating water pouch pushing out a sip sized water drop. 

“Yeah, it’s great,” Kelley said, watching you munch on your water. When you first got on the station you sent her pictures of artwork you made out of different drops of colored water- specifically making a giant water ‘soccer ball’ for her. Then you tried to boop it around and ended up losing control, amusing all your crewmates who watched you trying not to run into too many walls. “We’re looking forward to playing against Brazil on Friday, should be brutal.” 

“We’re set to be ov- Florida on -day, so I’ll try and tune into the ga-. Catch a nice - view,” You nodded, wiggling your eyebrows (which looked more like you having a seizure due to how badly you were pixelated). 

While Kelley wasn’t entirely sure what you were saying, she went ahead and nodded. “Let me know what you think!”

“Wh- color -it are you w-ing? Y- look -uper s-xy in the -ue,” you said, floating up in a ‘draw me like one of your french girls’ pose. 

“You’re favorite one,” Kelley said, winking at you. 

“-es!!” You cheered “-ake p-ture -or -“ the screen flickered dangerously for a second. Before a wobbly picture returned. 

“Babe you’re breaking up, I can’t tell what you’re saying. Y/n. Are you there? UGh. I love you! We’ll talk soon.”

“-ove y- -oo” 

Kelley blew a slow kiss to her camera before she heard a deep voice saying “Sorry ma’am. The connection was lost. Y’all still have five minutes on your scheduled call- Want me to try calling again? See if the signal improves?”

“Yeah,” Kelley shifted, rubbing the bridge of her nose as typing sounds echoed through the speaker. How she was going to make it through four more months of this she had no idea. 

“What if like the ship was attacked by aliens or something,” Sonnett whispered from her left, staring at the blank screen with real trepidation. 

“Not possible ma’am,” she heard him laugh. “But I doubt I would have the right level of security clearance to know.”

“great.”

Kelley grabbed a pen and marked a day off the calendar hanging on her wall. So much for ‘phone call with Y/n.’ She sighed. Just a few months to go. 

****

Gravity fucking sucked. It was disorienting and heavy and made you sick to your stomach. Space station alums always talked about re-entry and how bad that was, but you thought sitting in a NASA hospital bed while your equilibrium readjusted was way worse than your fireball craft plummeting into the ocean. 

“This fucking sucks,” You groaned, again throwing your hand over to pull out the IV. You hated how hard it was to move (and how you actually had to hold up a cup of water to get a drink but that was beside the point). 

“Whoa babe, I know you’re a little out of it right now, but that has to stay in. Just try and relax for a little while,” Kelley said, grabbing your hand and kissing the back of your knuckles. 

You frowned at her through heavy-lidded eyes. “Don’t wanna be here. Wanna be home with you.” 

“I know, but you gotta stay here until the re-entry symptoms have worn off a little more,” She said again. She knew that you weren’t going to be 100% when you stepped out of the spacecraft, but she hadn’t expected you to be so out of it. You were sick to your stomach and entirely unable to walk without assistance. 

The doctors assured her that you would be fine (residual effects from not being in gravity for so long and the impact of the landing or whatever), but it was still difficult to watch. It didn’t help that you were a horrendous patient. 

“Just watch the game. The US is even in Blue,” Kelley tried to coax. Even she was beginning to grow restless. But you couldn’t leave until you could keep down solid foods. 

“I don’t want to watch. You’re not in it,” You said, grabbing the remote from her and turning the television off. Then you tried to set the remote in the air, but instead of hovering like it should have done, it dropped to the ground. 

“Alright, commander Y/l/n. It’s dinner time,” one of the NASA hospital nurses said, bringing in a tray for you. Kelley thanked them as they left since you were too dazed to think of it.  

“God this food sucks, I hate jello ” you grumbled, lifting the spoon in front of your face (fully expecting it to float so you could take your bite) and dropping it as you want to open the pudding packet instead. “I just want a big juicy cheeseburger. With bacon and onions and-“ You trailed off, your mouth watering at the thought. You hadn’t had proper food in 8 months, and it had been your major cravings food. 

“A side of diabetes” she scoffed, picking up the discarded remote and spoon, “And are you going to keep dropping things everywhere?” She asked, carefully filling a spoon with chocolate pudding and guiding it to your mouth. 

“Fuck Newton. Things are supposed to float,” 

****

You loved the soft skin behind Kelley’s ear. It was so smooth, and it always smelt like a mix of her perfume, shampoo, and something inherently Kelley. It was a bonus that your exploration of the area always sent a shiver down her spine. You ran your nose along the skin there, nibbling on her ear before moving down her neck. Leaving little kisses along your path. Kelley sighed, sleepily scratching your scalp and tilting her head to the side to encourage you to continue. 

“You,” Kelley said. “ I like you.”

“Hm, I’m glad. It would be kinda scary if you were doing this with someone you didn’t like,” you mumbled against her skin, unwilling to part with it for even a moment. Kelley giggled at the tickling sensation. How you still had so much energy after you had thoroughly worn her out getting… reacquainted she would never know.

 “But what do you like most. Tell me, babe,” You said, moving your lips a little lower, towards where her shoulder and neck met. 

“I love… your ass. It’s out of this world.” She said sleepily, reaching around to grab her favorite asset of yours. 

“Well, it has been,” You laughed, pulling away reluctantly so you could look her in the eyes. 

“Shut up you goof,” She rolled her eyes, grabbing a pillow and whacking you lightly. You fell over dramatically, pulling her so she was on top of you. 

“Hm, I’m your goof,” 

“Yeah. You are. And babe?” She smiled down at you, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips. 

“Hmm?” You hummed against her lips. She leaned back to look you in the eyes, one forearm across your chest and her other hand beside your head supporting her. 

“No more space travel for a while?” 

 “Pinky promise,” You said, wiggling your hand so your littlest finger connected with hers. 

“Good. I can’t believe I was dating someone from TEXAS for a while.” Kelley pretended to shudder. “Jus think, one of your coworkers might have been a Houston dash supporter!”

[nezclaw]

third installment in my tf2 ficlets.

engie+medic, gore, ill-advised medical practices, medic continues to be Bad at people, Don’t Try This At Home

Shortly after hearing a loud bang from somewhere on the premises, the Medic hears someone limping up to his door. His initial reaction, to tell them that it's their own damn fault, is interrupted as he realizes that the ragged breathing he hears from the other side of the door is unfamiliar. A deep breath both stabilizes him and confirms that there is quite a lot of blood. He opens the door and his eyebrows shoot up.

"Engineer?"

"Sorry to bother you, Doc, but there was a little accident in the shop..." the Engineer croaks out, coughing weakly.

"That is certainly one way to put it," Medic says, quickly evaluating the injuries. Several large chunks of twisted metal have embedded themselves in the Engineer, some going all the way through him, but fortunately they appeared to have missed the spinal column. "Let's get you under the Medigun before you loose any more blood."

He takes the Engineer's arm, carefully avoiding the large chunks of shrapnel, and helps him over to the mounted Medigun, that he quickly switches on. The tension in the Engineer fades as the Medigun takes effect, dulling pain and rebuilding damaged tissue.

"Thanks, Doc," he rasps. The Medic tch's.

"This may hurt, even with the Medigun," he warns, and grabs the largest chunk of shrapnel. With a powerful yank he manages to pull it out maybe three inches? Not enough to remove it, certainly. The Engineer whimpers.

"Ach, do I need to get the Heavy in here?" he mutters as he tries again. This time he braces himself against the Engineer, and with a yell of exertion manages to pull it out in a shower of blood and viscera, large chunks of the Engineer's organs coming with it. "Hmm."

The Engineer is only upright due to latching on to the Medigun mount with his mechanical hand. He's conscious, but ragged. Unsurprising, given how much of his innards are all over the Medic.

"... I'll put those back momentarily." He does the same to the other large chunks. Smaller chunks have either been forced out, or healed over. He’ll get to those later.

"Do try to stay in the beam," he adds as the Engineer comes back to his senses, having passed out from the pain. "It's the only thing keeping you alive right now."

"There's still some pieces in there, Doc." the Engineer coughs, spitting blood. Impressive, considering how many holes were in his torso, though the Medigun was keeping him from bleeding out.

"And I will get to them in just a moment." He wheels over an operating table, and carefully gets the Engineer settled on it.

"Uh... did you just..."

"Hmm?" asked the Medic, who had just distractedly licked his lips which were covered in the Engineers blood. Much like the rest of him, actually.

"Never mind." Christ no wonder Scout was terrified of him.

"Currently the Medigun is providing vital energy to your cells, to keep them alive, but without healing them. A very literal sort of life support." the Medic remarks as he sets up an x-ray. "In your current condition, setting it to full heal would rapidly deplete your body's resources and that would take far too long to recover from."

"Makes sense. Uh, what about those organs?"

"They'll be fine for the time it takes me to remove the shrapnel." He takes an x-ray of the engineer. "I do prefer to keep as much of the original material as possible..."

"No sense in wasting good parts."

"Ja! Now hold still while I get these pieces out."

"You know, the way Scout talks I was half expecting you to tell me off for getting hurt like this."

"Oh I'm perfectly aware that accidents happen, Herr Engineer. Scout is simply allergic to taking any care to prevent them. Und he is... annoying."

"Aw he ain't so bad."

"He is a child who has a remarkable ability to find new and inventive ways to try my patience."

"He does enjoy the sound of his own voice."

"Just because I am a healer does not mean I am going to let him walk all over me. I am not helpless and if he wants to continue receiving my aid he would do well to keep that in mind."

He digs another piece of shrapnel out as Archimedes lands on his shoulder, having sensed the Medic's mood drop.

"That goes for the entire team. I have far more experience than they do and they would do well to keep that in mind." He pauses, taking a moment to pat the bird on his shoulder. He relaxes. Archimedes then leaves his shoulder to go nest in the Engineer's body cavity.

"Archimedes! I am WORKING here!" Medic scolds, shooing the bird away. "There is plenty of blood elsewhere for you to play in."

"Er,"

"Ach, he is simply curious. I would not mind if not for the fact that I am trying to work." He is quiet after that, focusing on removing the shrapnel from the Engineer.

"I believe that's all of it. Now to put you back together..." he hums as he turns his attention to the organs that are currently sitting in bloody lumps on the nearby table.

"Heh. You uh, wanna get a beer after this?"

Medic half turns from where he was soaking Engie's spleen in a nutrient bath to repair the damage it had incurred.

"Why?" he asks bluntly, holding the spleen in the medigun beam.

"Consider it a thank you for putting me back together?"

Medic stares at him. "It is unnecessary to thank me for doing the job I am being paid to do." He plops the spleen back into Engie and moves on to the kidney.

"No, but it is polite. 'Sides, it'd be nice to get to know you." For all that he appeared outgoing and confident, the Medic had been surprisingly reclusive ever since he’d joined the team. He mostly stayed in his lab and threatened anyone who bothered him with grievous bodily harm. Even Sniper had at least made an attempt to socialize with his teammates, although it had been awkward for everyone involved.

"Save yourself the trouble, Herr Engineer. I was hired to be the Medic, not to make friends with fools who wouldn't know genius if it bit them. It is always "Tell us about yourself, Herr Ludwig!" followed by "Sie can't do that, Herr Ludwig that's unethical!" or "What do you mean you don't have a medical license?"" His lip curls. "What part of MAD Doctor do they not understand?!"

"Uh..."

"Ah, you're regretting asking me already I can see it in your eyes." Medic sneers, rolling his eyes. Never mind that Engie was still wearing his goggles.

"Doc I chopped off my own hand to replace it with the Gunslinger." Engie says, exasperated. "Also, uh, are you gonna put me back together or are ya just gonna keep yelling at my kidney."

"..." Medic stares at the kidney.

"..." Engie raises an eyebrow, just visible over his goggles.

"... right of course."

Medic continues to mutter to himself as he works.

“There, good as new. Now begone. And don’t bother trying to get to know me, Herr Engineer. It is not worth the trouble.”

He slammed the door behind him.

[a-n-conrad]

Training (Dr.Strange x Reader)

[Summary: After getting mugged a few nights ago, Dr. Stephen Strange, the sorcerer supreme, decides it’s important to teach you a thing or two. But as you start training with your friend, the two of you realize you might be closer than you originally thought. (She/her pronouns)

Warnings: blood, mentions of an attack, knife mention, swearing, insecurity

Request: From my request survey (https://forms.gle/2XeYLsGekCdFmQjD7)]

You stumbled into the New York Sactum late one night, your clothes dirty and the knees of your pants ripped. Your hands and knees were scraped from falling, a little blood dripping onto your clothes. There was a bit of blood dripping down you neck, too, soaking into your shirt where the blood met the fabric. It was really just sinking in that they had cut you. 

You had been mugged, stopped on the street when you were walking alone by a knife pressed against your neck. And you when tried to fight back, gripping your bag as hard as you could, you were just hurt more. They had cut you just a little before ripping the bag from your hands and shoving you harshly to the ground. You hadn’t even gotten a good enough look at them to give any sort of description. Not that you planned on reporting this to the police anyway. You were friends with a literal superhero. There wasn’t really anything that they could do that Stephen couldn’t. 

You were so tired by the time you made it to the sanctum. Your ankle felt like every step you took was a knife being shoved into the side of your ankle. And you supposed you a bit more of an expert on knife injuries than you were just moments before. You were limping pretty badly as you pushed the doors to the sanctum open. Honestly, you had started regretting putting your phone in your bag ages ago. You really wished that you could’ve just called Stephen to portal you somewhere.

Luckily for you, you didn’t have to try to hunt Stephen down, since he was just walking through the foyer as you stumbled in. He froze a bit when he saw you, his eyes gliding over your body, clocking every single one of your injuries. You wondered if this was how he looked at all of his patients before he worked back when he was a surgeon.

But you knew it wasn’t when the icy professionalism melted away into a warm worry that you knew his old self never really felt. He had been a lot more selfish back then. But he had grown quite a bit since then.

He was by your side in seconds, His hands, though a bit shaky, and not quite as strong as they used to be, were placed on your arms, moving your arm to rest over his shoulders so that he could guide you to one of the antique couches. 

He was gentle with you as he sat you down, almost instantly working on cleaning and examining all of your injuries. He pulled first aid supplies out of seemingly no where, though you didn’t really question it. Lately, magic had become a pretty routine part of your life every time you visited Stephen. He cleaned all of your cuts and scrapes, carefully bandaging them all up. When he reached the one on your neck, his brows furrowed just a little, though he didn’t really say anything. Instead, he just continued his work. 

“Is there anything else that hurts?” He asked, you could tell by his tone that he was holding back from scolding you until he knew that all of your injuries were treated. He knew he could be a bit harsh sometimes, and you knew that he’d rather you at least be fully taken care of before he made you upset enough to try to storm off. And something about that thought made your heart buzz. 

“Just my ankle,” You muttered, “I think I twisted it a little.”

He nodded, still clearly biting his tongue. Almost literally at this point. He moved his hands carefully towards the ankle that you had indicated, slowly moving it, carefully watching for any signs of pain. The skin of his hands was textured in a way you had never felt before, and feeling it brush so carefully against the smooth skin of your ankle made your face heat up a bit.

“You definitely have a sprained ankle,” He stated, pulling compression tape out of thin air to start wrapping your ankle. His hands were still shaky, but there a quite a few things that he could do, because they weren’t even really considered tasks to him. He had done them so many times that with a bit of extra attention he could still do them with a little extra effort, “Now would you like to explain to me what exactly happened?”

“Well, as you know, we live in New York,” You started, causing him to roll his eyes in a way that you were pretty sure he had reserved exclusively for when you made jokes at inappropriate times, “And I got mugged. As you do. In New York.”

“Did no one ever teach you how to handle that situation?” he asked, exasperated, “You’re not supposed to fight back. I can literally just track down your bag and take it back. I have magic.”

“You know that’s not really how that goes with me, Stephen. And it’s not going to change any time soon,” You stated. You had always been much too stubborn for your own good. Which was how you managed to survive being friends with Dr. Stephen Strange.

He rolled his eyes at you yet again, “At least let me teach you a few things if you’re going to insist on getting into trouble.”

Your eyes lit up in seconds, and you could tell that he noticed, “Wait, for real? Are you offering to teach me magic?”

“Well,” It was sort of like you could see the wheels turning in his head. Like he was trying to figure out how to say what he was planning to say without ruining your good mood, “Maybe a little, but I was more thinking martial arts? Knowing you, if you start going around using magic against random petty thieves on the street, you’re going to end up getting in more trouble than all of the Avengers combined.”

You mulled over his words for a few seconds, before deciding that he was right. There were enough superpowered vigilantes in New York City, and they already got into enough trouble. And you knew very well that most of them weren’t as danger-prone as you were, “Fine, I suppose I’ll settle for martial arts.”

- - - - -

It was a few days before your first lesson. Stephen, pulling his “I’m a doctor” card, had insisted that you stay at the sanctum for a bit so that he could make sure that you were healing properly. He had already set up a spare room for you a while ago, considering the amount of times that you had tried to help him fine a certain piece of information in his library and ended up falling asleep on one of the couches at about two in the morning. 

But it really wasn’t long before he cleared you to start your training. You had expected it to take him a lot longer to get around to teaching you anything. Between his studies, teaching the newest apprentices of the mystic arts, and having to constantly ensure that the universe and timeline weren’t going to fall apart any time soon, Stephen was a very busy man. In fact, most of the time that you managed to block out to spend time with him, you were either helping him study, grabbing a quick meal, or helping him tidy up the sanctum. But he actually managed to get around to your first lesson the day after he told you that you were healed enough to go back to your own place. 

It was a chilly Saturday afternoon. The weather was just starting to turn a little cold. Not cold enough to be anything you really needed to worry about, but it was cold enough that you decided to put on a sweatshirt before walking to the sanctum. By the time you got there, your knuckles had started to show a bit of red and your nose was a bit cold. But you managed to ignore it, choosing instead to focus on your excitement to start training with your friend. Your mind had been wandering to how this might go almost constantly for the whole morning. 

You had been thinking about what you would be learning. Stephen had told you that the first thing he was going to teach you was how to use a sling ring. That way perhaps you could just avoid conflict. 

You were definitely fantasizing a little. Imagining things that obviously weren’t going to happen. In your mind you pictured yourself getting it on the first try, revealing yourself as some sort of magical prodigy. You pictured Wong and Stephen praising you, talking to you like you were even a little bit as impressive as a majority of the people that they talked to on a daily basis. Stephen, smiling at you with a smile that you were pretty sure you’ve really only seen in the rare romance movie with good acting, telling you how amazing you were. 

You stopped yourself before you imagined something you couldn’t just write off as needing praise. And in order to prevent your mind from wandering back to where it had been going, you decided to rush just a bit to the sanctum, managing to make it there before you ran out of other thoughts to keep your mind occupied. You took a deep breath, hoping to reset your brain before you opened the doors into the foyer.

Stephen had been waiting the foyer for you. You weren’t sure how long he had been waiting there, but you couldn’t help but smile when you saw him. He gave you a soft smile too. He had been a lot more open with caring about people since he took over the New York Sanctum, though he was still pretty walled off. He had changed a lot, but he was still Stephen, and there were a few things that were never going to change. And something about that, and the fact that you knew him well enough to know that, warmed your heart just a little.

“Alright, there’s a little field in the middle of no where that I portal to when I want to try out new spells sometimes that I think we should probably go there. Just in case,” He explained as you walked up to him. He seemed to be standing taller and the look on his face was one that you recognized from when he was teaching classes. You had to fight a little bit to keep your mind from wandering off to somewhere you didn’t want it to go as his deep, commanding voice reached your ears. He was definitely in teacher mode, and you really couldn’t say you had any reason to complain. Except for the fact that it was a little harder than usual to hide the fact that your face was beginning to heat up.

“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea,” You replied, trying your best to hide any sort of unevenness in your voice with your regular cheerfulness. 

- - - - -

It didn’t take more than half an hour of training without results for all of your excitement to fade away. Stephen had tasked you with trying to create a portal back to the foyer. He had gone over how to do it, too. The visualization, the hand motion, everything. And still, you couldn’t manage to summon a portal. 

“God fucking dammit,” You shouted, throwing your hands up into the air. You felt like an idiot. You had just been standing in a field for half an hour, spinning your hand in an attempt to create a doorway of sparks out of thin air. You knew it was possible, too, which was driving you even more insane. What was wrong with you that you couldn’t get this?

“Hey, whoa,” Stephen walked over just as you were about to through the ring in anger, stopping you just in time, “You’re really not doing all that bad. It takes time to get it down. You’ll figure it out.”

He placed one of his hands on your shoulder, the trembling stopping as it pressed against your arm. You could eel your skin heating up under his hand, and you really hoped he wouldn’t notice.

“Yeah, right,” You said, sitting down cross-legged in the plash grass that was surrounded you, “How long did this take you? Five minutes?”

He chuckled, taking a seat next to you. The deep rumble in the back of his throat when he laughed was one of your favorite sounds. It was like a thunderstorm, but specifically a thunderstorm when you were wrapped in a blanket, reading a book that you loved, “Actually, I didn’t figure out how to do this until my mentor abandoned me on Mt. Everest.”

“Wait, really?” The surprise was less about him being abandoned on Everest and more about him not figuring this out right away. He was so talented and learned everything so fast. He was the smartest person you had ever met, and you admired him more than you had ever admired anyone in your life. 

“I know that I get talked up a lot, but I’m really only good at this because of all the reading I do,” He laid back, his cloak wrapping itself around him a bit as he lounged on the ground. You had never seen him like this. Stephen Strange was a man with the weight of the world on his shoulder, gray hairs on the sides of his head well-earned. But as he laid down next to you, sprawled out on the ground among the grass and a few tiny flowers, you felt as though there could never be anything wrong in the world as long as Stephen was beside you. 

“Oh, please,” You flopped back, surprised by how soft the pillow of grass was, “You’re so talented at everything you try. Honestly, Stephen, I can’t think of a single thing you couldn’t do if you put your mind to it.”

“Is that really what you think about me?” a hint of insecurity seeped into his voice, a tone you had never heard from him before. He had always been so unwaveringly confident before.

“Of course it is, Stephen,” You turned a bit to face him. His brows were furrowed as he stared at the sky, clouds reflected in his eyes, “You’re one of the most amazing people I’ve ever met. Honestly, sometimes I feel like you’re so amazing that I’m barely worth your time.”

That last sentence came out pretty sheepishly, quietly enough that for a moment you had the slightest bit of hope that maybe he didn’t hear you. That hope was quickly extinguished, though, as he turned to you, his eyebrows raised as though you had said something entirely unbelievable. 

“Barely worth my time?” He exclaimed, as though I had just insulted him, “If anyone here isn’t worth this time, it’s me. (Y/n), I’ve been such a jerk. I was cruel to you for a good majority of our friendship. I honestly don’t know how you stand me.”

You knew he had been having some self-worth issues since his accident. He had lost everything, or what he thought was everything. But you had never seen the pain so clearly in his eyes before. 

“Stephen, I know you’re not the person you were right after your accident. You’re not even the person you were before it. You’re Dr. Stephen Strange, master of the mystic arts. The savior of the earth more times than I even know about. The only person that ever offered to teach me how to defend myself. The person the patched me up after I got mugged. The person that carries me to my guest bed when I fall asleep in the library,” By the end of the rant, you had realized what you truly meant. 

You had fallen in love with Stephen since he had come back. He had grown so much as a person, changing for the better. And as you got to know this new Stephen, a person that despite still seeming cold and arrogant had learned how much good he was capable of. A person that, for the first time in a long time, remembered what it felt like to do things for others without needing any sort of reward. 

And as you look back to his eyes, which were staring at you, wide with shock, you realized that you couldn’t keep it to yourself much longer, “I love you, Stephen. I love the person you’ve grown to be.”

You really hadn’t realized, but his face was much closer to yours than you expected it to be. You could smell his cologne, a warm scent, like a chai latte from a nice cafe mixed with the smoke that always seemed to cling to his clothes. You could feel his eyes, flickering down to your lips. The world around you felt like it was both slowing down and speeding around you. Like time was irrelevant as you laid there, staring into his crystal clear eyes. 

Finally, the moment broke as he closed the gap between you, his lips softly touching your own. They were softer than you expected them to be, though his beard was a bit rough against your face. It was gentle, caring, and timid. Things that never would have been associated with the old Dr. Strange. 

He went to pull back after a few seconds, though your arms seemed to move without you telling them to. You had been waiting fo this so much longer than you even really knew, you had bottled up these feelings for so long. You pulled him back by the collar of his shirt, pulling his body to hover over your own a bit. It was nearly instinctive, the feeling of needing to be as close to him as you could be. You had been forcing yourself to stay at a distance, and it felt as though that first kiss broke the dam. 

It was a few more moments before you allowed him to pull away again, finally loosening your grip on his clothing. The way he looked at you was something that you were pretty sure you never could’ve imagined, like you were the center of the universe. Like out of all the beautiful things in the world that he had seen, you were the only one he ever wanted to see. 

You were both silent for a few moments, just taking in what had just happened. It took you a few moments to fully take in that it was real. And then a few more moments to convince yourself that this wouldn’t stop being real the second the two of you got up.

“We really should get back to training,” he finally broke the silence, a smirk plastering itself onto his face, “You only got half an hour into a four-hour lesson.”

[tricktster]

i finally bought a new car, which required me to trade in my beloved old car. Now there was a lot that sucked about my old car, like, for example:

 the driver’s window seal leaked, so I had to hold a towel up to it whenever I went through the car wash or got caught in a thunderstorm, or in the alternative, appear places as my alter ego, Ol’ Wet Sleeve.

one day, for no discernible reason, the passenger door power lock made a metallic shriek for thirty minutes and then refused to ever work again

the windshield fluid reservoir was cracked, so I not only had to stop at every gas station to wipe the salt off my windshield all winter, but until the last of the fluid worked its way out of its system, every parking spot looked like my car had done a blue tinkle

something went terribly wrong with the anti-theft system which caused it to beep incessantly until the battery quite literally drained from the effort every time I locked my door and it was even mildly humid, culminating in the day its incessant wailing ruined a kishi bashi concert and then never deployed again

once there was a chipmunk on the windshield and I needed to get to work so I started the car and began driving VERY slowly in the hopes it would jump off, but it instead disappeared into a hole next to the wipers and I just had to hope it crawled out at work because i was late and surely that hole didn’t lead anywhere

the hole apparently led somewhere, and the chipmunk made a home somewhere under the hood

thereafter, the chipmunk, and I do not understand the mechanics here, figured out how to get into the cabin and left about 15 uneaten acorns, 30 partially eaten acorns, 100 acorn shells, and 1000 tiny poops on the floor

after i got the tires rotated last year, the right front wheel made an irreversible and humiliating squeaking noise whenever i went less than 50 miles an hour

it got stuck in very small amounts of snow with extreme, perverse regularity

there were inexplicable danger buttons on the steering wheel that made the automatic transmission turn into a manual - which I cannot drive. But don’t worry, they were incredibly easy to deploy accidentally and could only be fixed by turning the whole car off

the horn sounded like a clown nose

After five years without so much as a scrape, I told my mom about my intention to buy a better car and trade in the old one for a few thousand bucks. Approximately 17 hours thereafter, my mom accidentally backed into it with her car, leaving a huge dent and rendering the whole car worth literally dozens of dollars.

Three days later, my mom ran into it again, but this time with the rider mower. Although the rider mower cannot top five miles per hour, she claimed the collision was unavoidable because “the rider mower doesn’t have brakes!” although she was unable to explain how that prevented her from, you know, steering around the large stationary object. Also the rider mower has brakes. 

Now I know this all sounds very bad and dumb. However, there were three great things about my car that made up for all that nonsense:

1. it only had two seats. Examples of why this ruled:

 “oh, you guys need a ride somewhere? Oh sorrrrrry I caaaaaan’t, it’s a twooooo seater.”

 “you need help moving? SOOOOOORRRYYY I CAAAAAN’T FIT ANYTHING IN THERE AND I ONLYYYYY GOT TWO SEATSSS MANNNNN.”

“It’s my turn to be the DD? Sure, that only seems fa- OH SORRY CAN’T NOT EQUIPPED TWO SEATS IS THE THINGGGG.

2. because it was stupid small, I could go roughly 340 miles on about 20 dollars of gas (unless I pressed the red button that made it much less fuel efficient but made the engine noise go “vrmVOOM,” you know, to impress men)

Lastly, and most importantly:

3. the license plate that it was randomly assigned was absolutely incredible. Now I don’t want to get doxxed so this is a fake plate to protect my car’s identity, but it was, in essence, ORC-42069. It was fantasy creature + the funny numbers. It was so fucking choice. 

Anyway, I loved that stupid, selfish, garbage car, but it was time to let it go, on account of I Drive In Vermont And This Winter It Nearly Killed Me (On 3 Separate Occasions). So two weeks ago I agreed to trade in the Jerkmobile for, and this is no joke, ONE DOLLAR, I said goodbye to the funniest plates in automotive history, I put several thousand bucks down on a preowned car with only 8k miles and that sweet all wheel drive, and I settled in to wait for the NYSDMV to process the registration.

It took like fifteen days to get the registration settled, but because NYSDMV employees, like the rest of us, are dealing with a global pandemic, I wasn’t about to complain about the wait. And I like to think that my non-Karen energy reaped beautiful rewards. See, at the dealership this evening, I finally laid eyes on my brand new car. 

Look, I don’t believe in God. I have to remind myself sometimes that there’s nobody pulling the strings, that human beings tend to draw connections between unrelated points of data, that none of this MEANS anything. And yet, at the same time....

oh what intelligence

what divine providence

that my new randomly generated license plate should begin with a thrash metal band and end in 69.

[spvce-cowboy]

drivers license

francisco morales x f!reader - oneshot

rating: mature

3.1k words

warnings: drug/alcohol use, reader is a dealer, age gap, so much YEARNING!!!

summary: a surprise visit from an old friend

a/n: 100 follower celebration!! partially inspired by this post but also the fact that i have been sing-screaming “drivers license” for oh about four days straight now. thank you guys so so much for all the support so far ! 💕

**

A fist slamming against your front door wakes you from a dreamless sleep.

You push yourself off your mattress, blearily checking the time on your phone and cursing under your breath when you see that it’s almost 3am. You sit up all the way, blinking as you wait to see if what woke you up was something you’d imagined or if it were real.

It’s real. It starts again after a second, three sharp raps against the door, followed by some kind of muffled talking. Your heart rate picks up in your chest, you grab the baseball bat you have leaned against the wall as you reach your apartment door. Squeezing one eye shut, you look through the peephole.

The good thing is that it definitely isn’t the cops. You take a relieved breath, leaning away from the door.

The bad thing is that whoever is knocking is hunched on his knees, just outside of the peephole’s line of sight, so you have absolutely no idea who the fuck it is.

“Please open the door,” the man’s voice begs from the other side of the door. You’re about to yell at him to fuck off, but he interrupts you before you can even open your mouth. “Little flower, it’s me, please.”

The nickname makes your heart go to your throat. The bat in your hands falls to the floor.

You rub a hand over your eyes, huffing an exhale in a vague attempt to prevent your heart from ricocheting against your ribs. It doesn’t work. Because as soon as he says it, as soon as you realize who it is, it brings everything back with him.

A set of sturdy, tanned fingers cupped against the knuckles of your grandfather’s hand, the voice went low in a warm but respectful greeting. You didn’t realize how gnarled your old man’s hands had gotten until you had someone else’s to compare them to. You looked back down at the crumpled up dollar bills you’d just been handed, one of them still rolled. Turning to find your bag on the coatrack, you stuff the money in your back pocket.

“My little flower, this is a good one,” your grandfather told you with a small hum that signifies whatever he just said must be set in stone. You hear the sound of him heavily patting the hand cupped over his own in that way he does when he appreciates the presence of something. “He has a decent head on his shoulders, no?”

“Little flower?” You can hear the boyish smile in that all too familiar voice before you even turn back around. “That suits you well, I think. Florita. I like that.”

“Christ, Frankie, what are you doing here?” You rest your head against the doorframe, heart sinking in your chest. You don’t open the door, to protect him or yourself you don’t know.

“I need—”

“You’ve got a kid now, Frankie. I told you I’m not going to sell to you anymore.”

“Ever the moralist,” the bite to his words is so uncharacteristic you can’t help but flinch. He seems to realize this, too. His apology is nearly immediate. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. You’re right. I… It’s not…”

You swallow, closing your eyes and wrapping your arms around yourself for some bare semblance of comfort. “Please go,” your voice is so quiet you’re not sure he can hear you through the layer of wood separating the two of you. “You’ll wake the neighbors.”

It’s quiet for a long time. Long enough that you nearly think he’s left. Long enough that you don’t know why you’re still standing at the door and not back in bed.

And Frankie says your name, voice cracking. Your actual name. It’s been so long since you’ve heard it come off his lips you can’t help sink into the door.

A held breath leaves you in a shuddering sigh. Your shaking hands open the door.

The man who spills onto the ground before you is a stranger, yet, heartbreakingly, just as he had been when you first met him. Messy hair, worn blue jeans, gray button-down stretching over the perfect expanse of his back. All that is missing this time around is that lazy smile, that easy, Hey, darling.

In a bar. Right when your grandfather started getting sick.

“Eighty,” you said without him having to continue his sentence beyond his syrupy greeting, eyes trained on the shelves of liquor in front of you instead of having to meet his gaze.

He copped an eighth, tucking the little baggie in a pocket on the inside of his jacket. You went back to your drink, angling your body away from him again and expecting him to return to his table of friends. But then the knuckles of his hand nudged the side of you elbow. He gestured to your beer, the neck of the bottle clasped between your thumb and the hook of your middle and index fingers.

“Lemme buy you your next one, yeah?” He had a hunched lean to his posture, in that way that men do when they want you to feel like you’re the only person in the room. You were mad that it worked. He extended a hand. “Frankie Morales.”

The truth of it was that the two of you became friends, after that. Nothing more. Regardless, it was too close for you to get to someone you dealt to, but you were so lonely at that point in your life—taking care of the old man by day, GED classes at night--that meeting Frankie was a small blessing. Nothing ever happened between you two but God you wish it did.

To describe what you felt towards him as a crush didn’t really cut it, but you were fine with friends. Being completely fair, he was definitely one to send mixed signals—Christ, your weekly tradition of driving to an overlook to split an order of fries and milkshakes on the hood of his truck just about screamed every romcom you were raised on. But despite the occasional prolonged touch, the hand he would place on the small of your back to move you out of the way or guide you forward, nothing happened.

You dealt with it. Tried to be supportive as possible when he met his girl. Frankie broke the news that she was pregnant. The two of you saw each other less and less frequently. Sometimes he would call to catch up. Eventually, you stopped answering when he did. Your grandfather died. You got into a local art school.

It was sad how quietly it all faded. You didn’t know it could, but it did.

And now here he is, literally crumpled at your feet.

Frankie messily pulls himself up off the ground and onto his knees. He reeks of booze and old cigarettes. You freeze as his hands wrap over your hips, as he presses his face into your stomach and murmurs an incoherent apology—for what, you’re not exactly sure.

And when you finally processing what’s happening, what you had begged the universe for years, you can’t help yourself. Your card your fingers through his hair, gritting your teeth and squeezing your eyes shut.

“Frankie,” it’s a warning. It’s a reminder. “You’re drunk. You need to go home. Your girlfriend--”

“She left a week ago,” he speaks into the fabric covering your belly. The words burst forwards as if not even he was expecting to say them. It’s a confession. His hands flex from where they hold onto you. “She’s gone.” Your heart drops to your gut, your chest aching. “I need… Just for the night I… Little flower, the house is so empty.”

You keep petting back his hair until his breathing quiets. He keeps holding onto you, even then. The two of you stay like that for a long time.

“Why don’t,” your voice comes out too shaky. Too unsure of itself. You clear your throat and try again. “Why don’t you take a shower, I’ll get you some water and we can sober you up a bit. Okay?”

He tilts his face up at you. It’s the first time you’ve seen him in well over a year.

And he hasn’t changed. It’s all there—the soft mess of shaggy hair, dark but kind eyes, the beloved hook of his nose.

One sun-sick evening, you rode your bike to the beach just to get out of the apartment. You need somewhere to sit and think for a while, just until your head feels more clear. There’s enough of a chill in the air that you have to throw on a jacket, it’s nice. It’s like you can feel the wind moving through you. Past you.

When you arrived at the beach, you got off your bike, leaning it against your hip as you scoped out a spot to sit in the sand. You were about to wheel it over to the rack when--

Someone pinched your elbow in greeting. Their steps were so quiet you didn’t even register their approach. It, obviously, startled you, and your hand immediately flew to the keychain in your back pocket. The knife you had attached to it.

When you turned, and it was Frankie’s familiar face, his hands raised in joking surrender.

In that light, with the sun still flirting with the horizon, it rendered his face into shapes and shadows you had only previously seen in the old oil paintings of long-dead greats. You thought it was in the deep bourbon of his eyes, soft when illuminated by a tangerine sky. It was him. All of him. Slightly breathless, hair ruffled by the wind.

“Hey, hey, sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you,” he sounded genuinely apologetic. You released a relieved huff of air.

“Fucking Christ, Frankie. A little warning would be nice next time.”

“Did you bike the whole way here? From the apartment?” He asked, there was a tinge of concern to his voice.

You shrugged, trying to hide your embarrassment by lowering your kickstand with the heel of you boot. “It’s not that far.”

“Don’t you have a car?”

“Can’t drive,” you wrinkle your nose. “Never needed to.”

He looked you for a moment, if you didn’t know any better you’d say critically.

“I was just about to get something to eat, if you wanna join me,” he tucked his hands in his pockets as he spoke. “There’s this overlook nearby that has a way better view of all of this.” He motions to the ocean with the tilt of his head. “I can drive us there.”

You regarded him as he spoke, cautiously looking him up and down. And you nodded, smiling slightly. He smiled back, it was big and crooked. It made something in the pit of your belly feel warm.

You step away, holding out your hand to help him to his feet. He complies, stumbling slightly and rubbing his hand over his face as he does so. He disappears down the hall without having to ask where the bathroom is.

Sighing, you go back into your room, pulling out a shirt and a pair of oversized sweatpants for him to change into. You knock on the bathroom door on your way to the kitchen. The apartment’s walls are so thin you can hear the hiss of the shower from all the way down the hall.

“Come in,” Frankie’s voice barely rises above the sound.

You crack the door open, keeping your eyes trained to the floor as you place the folded clothes on the sink’s counter.

“Here’s something for you to change into,” you tell him. He thanks you, the shower turning off right as you close the door behind you. You walk back down the hall and into the living room, making two glasses of water before settling on your couch.

Once, after a night out, the two of you were too drunk and too broke to afford separate taxis home. He proposed going back to his house, split the cost, grab a cab for you once it wasn’t so late and the rates went down.

You agreed, as you did anytime he extended the offer to spend time there. There was something about the quiet, tucked-in nature of the suburbs that was so novel to you. So calming.

The two of you settled on the couch. Feeling bold, you lay your head in his lap and kicked your socked feet up on the opposite armrest as you describe to him the gallery opening you’d snuck into. How you successfully schmoozed to the owner as well as one of the artists.

He asked you if you had heard back from any of the scholarships you’d applied to. You hadn’t, but you’d only just submitted the applications, so it would be at least a few months wait.

You tell him your dreams of becoming an artist. A real one. He already knew that, but you really tell him this time, all the details you usually keep to yourself, too special to you to have the courage to voice aloud. The fantasy of moving out into the mountains, getting a cabin just big enough for a hotplate and a bed and a studio. You’ve lived and breathed LA for your entire life and you were tired of the city. Tired of every street corner baked with the memories of high school and the listless years that followed, of the small humiliations you had to succumb to in order to survive.

Frankie listened and nodded enthusiastically at all the right parts. It was only then that you realized his hands smoothed over the top of your scalp as you talked. You let it continue, it felt too nice not to.

He told you that you should, and if you needed help finding the money he could always--

You cut him off before he could finish the thought, shaking your head. Responsibilities came first, you had people who needed you. A degree to finish. Savings to maintain. You asked him about the new girl he’d been seeing and he eagerly launches into a story about a different, wild night out. You smile and laugh throughout the whole thing, trying to ignore the pang it gives you when he describes the dress she was wearing. He fingers continued to brush over the crown of your head as he talked.

You fell asleep there, on his lap. You woke up before the sun rose, hot and sweaty and still a little drunk from the vodka Redbulls that never agreed well with your heart.

It took you a second to realize you were in Frankie’s bed, alone. When you padded back into the living room, he was passed out on the couch, a throw blanket wrapped around his shoulders, using his arm as a pillow.

You left after helping yourself to a shower, texting him a sarcastic good luck with that hangover. You’re about to call a taxi home but something stopped you. You thought it might be the way the sun was barely breaking over the cusp of the smoggy horizon, the sky reduced to pale shades of violet with the coming dawn.

The quiet neighborhood Frankie lived in is all the more beautiful, like this. Subdued, empty, houses in winding but even rows that scale up the mountainside like sets of bad teeth. You decided to walk, just until the sun got a little brighter. Until the people started to shake themselves awake for a new day.

You got a text from him as you were making breakfast, back at your apartment by then. Thanks. Hope you slept well, little flower. Something about the small missive kept you smiling the whole day after.

You mess with your phone until Frankie returns.

“I’m sorry, for showing up like this,” Frankie says as he hovers over the living room’s threshold. The clothes you leant him fit well enough, only slightly oversized on his frame as opposed to how they generously drape off of you. He holds his towel in his hands, looking down at it instead of you.  “I honestly don’t have an excuse and you… you shouldn’t accept any. But I thought I should still tell you.”

You look at him for an extended beat, knowing he’s being honest. You’re at a genuine loss as to how to handle the situation.

“We can deal with it later,” you settle with that. It sounds good enough to you, and when he finally meets your eyes again he looks a little relieved. You nod you head towards the glass of water you placed on the coffee table, he takes your lead and settles on the opposite side of the couch, leaning over to take his own glass.

“So um… how are you?” He asks you earnestly, angling his body towards you.

“Okay,” you take a sip of water, trying to keep it casual. “Cleaning up my act a bit, you know? Going to school, picking up jobs here and there. Trying to figure out what I want to do. Oh! I uh… I learned how to drive--impressive I know.”

“The city flower herself, operating a vehicle?” His face breaks into a familiar, goofy smile you can’t help but reciprocate. “I’ll add every pedestrian in LA to my prayers.”

“You should,” you shake your head as you laugh, leaning into your corner of the couch and pulling your knees up to your chest. You finally relax, giving yourself the small allowance of settling into the comfort that inevitably comes with his presence.

And it really is just as easy as it always has been between the two of you. The conversation naturally ebbs and flows, neither of you bother to broach the heavier stuff. For now, just this it’s enough.

It’s enough to see the spark in his eyes when he tells you about his daughter, how bright she is, how much trouble she gets into—just like her dad. It’s enough to hear about his friends, all those names and backstories that you still vividly remember. It’s enough to bask in the feeling of how he leans into you with laughter, a hand lingering on your knee for seconds longer than it probably should have, as he always tends to do.

It’s enough to see him grin when you tell him about the scholarships you got, how weird it felt being the oldest person in all your classes, even if it was only by a handful of years. He doesn’t ask how your grandfather is, the living room being cleared of all the heart monitors and breathing machines is enough to answer that question. You’re grateful he doesn’t. You’re not sure you’d be able to keep a brave face if he did.

You don’t want time to pass. You want to stay here, with him, like this, in that perpetual state of catching up, in that breathless deluge that has the not-so-subtle undercurrent of this is what has happened since you left. I wish you would have been there. But I am so happy you are here now.

When you can no longer stifle your yawns, you stand to refill your glass of water, speaking on your walk over to the sink.

“I’d love to keep talking but I honestly don’t think I can keep my eyes open much longer,” you tell him as you turn the tap off. “I can make up the couch for you, if you’d like.”

When he doesn’t immediately respond, you turn to look back at him. He’s staring at you from where he is seated, eyes dark with something that isn’t just from the low light of the living room.

“What?” You ask after a few more seconds of him not responding. He looks away from you, shaking his head.

“Yeah, that would be great.”

Your eyes search his for a moment, positive that that was not at all what he was turning over in his head during those few seconds of silence. You’re too tired to press, so you gather a spare set of sheets for him. He stands when you come back into the living room, holding out his arms to take them from you. You wave him away, setting up the pull-out bed yourself. You’d grown up sleeping on this thing, tucking the fitted sheet into the corners was always tricky, and he didn’t know where the bolts of the couch’s frame would cut the shit out of his hands if he wasn’t careful.

Throwing a pillow down, you turn back to Frankie. He’s standing closer to you, now. You have to tilt your head up slightly to meet his eyes.

“All set,” you tell him. He nods, eyes searching your face for a moment. Your brow furrows. “Frankie, you’re being weird. Stop it.”

His chuckle breaks the tension.

“Sorry—I’ve been saying that a lot tonight, haven’t I?” He takes a deep breath. You’re smiling again, about to agree with him, and without warning his hand is comes up to cup the side of your face. You still, lips parted in an unasked question. “Thank you, little flower,” his voice goes rough again, as it had when you were speaking to each other through the door. “I really mean it.”

Frankie’s hand drops when you nod, lips pressed together. He sits back down on the pull-out. You wish him goodnight quietly and return to your room.

Leaving your bedroom door cracked open, you climb back into bed. With everything in you, you hope he’s still there when you wake. He will be.

[gumnut-logic]

The Mechromancer

There may be more to this.

This started out as an attempt to write something completely different, but it was determined to do this instead. So you have a pile of fishTank, just a different pile than expected.

Warnings for angst, hurt/comfort.

Many thanks to @scribbles97​ @janetm74​ @tsarinatorment​ and @flyboytracy​ for all their help on this one. My brain fried in the middle of it and it is a little odd as a result. These wonderful peeps put up with an extremely whiney Nutty for a few days there so they should be congratulated for not hitting my over the head with something solid :D

I hope you enjoy this anyway.

-o-o-o-

They say mechromancy is born of the Earth, of rock and metal and the energies that drive the planet.

He can feel it.

Feel metal spinning as it is cut and cries out in its making, its shaping, its becoming. It resonates in his soul as he gives birth to a new creation.

He pulls the new shape off the lathe, the smell of hot metal curling in his nostrils. A rough edge catches skin and pricks a scratch.

Red iron smudges grey steel, metal on metal.

Virgil wipes it away with a stained rag and the cog gleams in the light of his workshop.

-o-o-o-

Gordon’s days were grey.

At first, waking was pain and fog. Everything was broken. The fine instrument he had built his body into no longer worked and was little more than a source of ongoing agony.

The doctors were brutally honest. He could not expect more than a life of grey walls and kindly nursing staff for the rest of his life.

That’s if he had one. There was always the opportunity of a sudden infection and an early termination of that agreement.

His family was there.

Always.

Grandma was in charge, no matter what the hospital thought. You didn’t cross his grandmother and survive. The fact there was a looming grey-eyed and very wealthy Jefferson Tracy gave much more weight to Doctor Tracy’s demands.

His father was there.

This was something both expected and unexpected. Father was a very busy man, but each time Gordon woke in those early days, his eyes would clear to find the silver-grey suited millionaire somewhere in the room. He didn’t say much, not being a man to show a great deal of emotion, but the fact he was there and there so often said enough.

Said how dire things really were.

The most consistent presence was Scott, of course. The man’s cane was heard in his sleep. Sometimes Gordon wanted to reach out and shake it from his brother’s grasp and break it in two across his knee.

But it was a fantasy. Because not only did he not have the strength to grab the cane, he no longer had any knees to break anything.

His legs were gone.

The thought flickered through his mind and he shied away.

Alan…Alan tried to cheer him up while trying not to cry himself. It was heartbreaking.

John reached out to brush fingers through his hair, a single tear falling unacknowledged down his cheek.

Gordon was in so much pain himself and yet also the cause of so much more. It tore at his heart.

Had his sole purpose in life been reduced to a bane on his family?

And Virgil…

He dreamt of his brother. His loving and gentle mechanic brother.

But he never saw him.

In the early days after Gordon had first opened his eyes after the accident, he had asked after Virgil. Scott’s eyes had been full of…something. His eldest brother always kept up his military stance, hiding his true thoughts should they present a vulnerability and those defences were ever so thick at the mere mention of Virgil.

Even in his bleary, pain-filled state, Gordon sensed there was something wrong, but he didn’t have the strength to pursue the question.

His days were awash with painkilling concoctions of his grandmother’s recommendations that took his mind along with the pain. Distorted versions of both his father and Scott were his earliest memories after the accident.

And the dreams…a sense of heat, holding him down, burning, preventing his escape. His own fear overlapped by someone else’s desperation and panic. Flame burning down his nerve endings demanding he stay.

Stay.

Whispers in his mother’s voice.

Denial and determination.

Ever so hot and hurting.

They always ended in such a flare of light and sound, he woke up yelling.

And Scott would be there. Words of reassurance and love.

Gordon always asked for Virgil after the dreams. They meant something, he was sure of it and they had something to do with Virgil.

And Scott never quite answered.

-o-o-o-

He stokes the fire to exactly the right temperature, the coals glowing eye-blinding white, forcing his goggles onto his eyes. His skin pricks with the heat.

Cahelium requires it.

Metal hits flame in a shower of sparks and sucks up the energy, shining as brightly as the sun. He feels it breathe in, draw in the life-giving energy of creation.

His hammer shapes with each strike, the metal thinning as he bends it to his will. Muscles flexing as he swings, the energy of his body fighting, forcing form.

Sweat trickles down his brow as he frowns with the effort. His leather apron protects his vulnerable body, but the sparks still sneak through to embed in the bare skin of his arms and burn holes in his shirt.

He doesn’t care. He can feel the metal with his mind and it is becoming.

Scars in the making only record the process.

-o-o-o-

Days turn into weeks and still Virgil didn’t appear.

Scott had excuses but none of them rang true. Gordon created all kinds of scenarios in his head. Maybe Virgil was injured. Or sick. Maybe he had died. All of the above terrified him until one day while they were alone, he yelled at his big brother, demanding to know.

Only then did he get to see Virgil.

Scott wheeled him in.

Gordon stared. His engineer brother looked terrible.

“W-what happened?”

Virgil’s hands were swaddled in bandages and he was literally wilting in the chair. “Hey, Gords.” His eyelids were drooping.

Gordon looked up at Scott and his big brother’s eyes dropped to the floor.

“What happened?!” His body was busted but there was nothing wrong with his brain bar the concoctions they kept stabbing him with.

Virgil reached over and lay a bandaged hand on Gordon’s chest. “I’m well. I promise.”

“You look awful, Virg. What happened to your hands?” He stared at the swathed fingers on his broken body. Virgil’s magic fingers. His eyes widened, dreams and reality suddenly merging. “What did you do?!”

“Gordon…” His name was weariness itself, his brother’s usual baritone barely there. “You were dying. I had to.”

Gordon’s eyes shot to his brother’s bloodshot brown, so like his own. “You fix machines.”

“The human body is only another type of machine.”

“You fixed me?”

Virgil shook his head, his eyes closing. Scott, who had remained silent, knelt down beside the engineer in his chair and placed an arm around Virgil’s shoulders.

Virgil’s hand was still on Gordon’s chest. He fought with the sudden need to want it gone, yet desperately wanted to hold it in his own.

He settled for slowly, ever so slowly moving his right hand to land on top of Virgil’s as gently as he could.

“What did you do?”

“I fixed enough.” An exhausted exhale. “Just enough.”

“What has it done to you?”

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit. You look half dead.”

Virgil closed his eyes again. “I am well, Gordon. Don’t worry about it.”

Gordon turned to Scott, whose eyes again dropped to the floor. His big brother swallowed.

Back to Virgil. “You are a pathetic liar. You know that.”

Virgil’s eyes joined Scott’s on the floor. “I’m sorry, Gordon.”

“What?! It’s obvious that you foolishly did something that might have saved my ass, but trashed yours. Scott, tell me! What the hell did he do to himself?”

Virgil straightened up and a more familiar fire flared. “I did what had to be done. And I would do it again.”

“Then why the hell are you apologising?”

Virgil shrunk back and shook his head, but didn’t say anything further. If anything, he wilted in his chair further.

“Virgil…” It was an exhalation of his brother’s name. His eyes darted again to Scott seeking answers. His eldest brother still had a protective arm around Virgil’s shoulders. Whatever had happened, chances were it was bad.

Blue eyes looked up and caught Gordon’s. Scott’s lips thinned and his jaw tightened.

Very bad.

Virgil’s hand on Gordon’s chest was trembling.

“Tell me you will be well.” He begged Virgil to look at him so he could see the truth.

As if summoned, that dark-haired head rose, bloodshot, brown eyes caught his. “I will.” A swallow. “I promise.”

“And your hands?”

“They will heal.”

“And be as they were?” Please.

“They will heal.” It was a repetition, almost a self-reassurance.

Gordon swallowed hard, almost terrified to look beneath those bandages to discover exactly what his brother had done trying to ‘fix’ Gordon’s machine.

Virgil was suddenly pushing himself to his feet. Scott hurried to steady him. “Virgil, what are you doing?”

But their brother didn’t answer. He took a shaky step towards the bed and, leaning over, wrapped his arms as best he could around Gordon without disturbing him. “So good to see you, Fish.” There was an emotional shake in his voice and that tremble in his hand proved to be system wide.

Gordon lifted one hand the best he could and rested his temple against Virgil’s. “Glad to be here.” His voice was suddenly hoarse. “Thank you.”

There was a muffled sound in Gordon’s pillow he couldn’t identify. Then  a rough, but firm, “Anytime.” Virgil shifted and pushed himself up a little, enough to catch Gordon’s eyes. “Anytime.”

And Scott was hauling Virgil up and back into his chair.

Gordon didn’t want his brother to go, but the man was sagging where he sat, alarming Gordon even more. A glance at Scott and he encountered that same worry there.

“Time to go back to bed, Virgil.” Their eldest brother secured him in the chair and unlatched the brakes.

If Gordon could have, he would have stretched out his arm. “Be well, Virgil.”

His weary brother nodded once and Scott pushed him out the door, leaving Gordon to stare at where his brother had been and what he had done.

-o-o-o-

He lines up the fine golden metal cladding and, with a punch he cast himself, embosses a detailed etch of an octopus into the hot cahelium-brass.

Beside it, he chooses to place a shark, its fins a sharp dent in the metal.

His breath is evaporated as he peers closely before punching in a twirled sea shell.

His fingers ache to touch the metal.

On the desk beside him lays the mechanisms. Setting the section of the cladding aside to cool, he returns to the final touches, the fine tuning of the gears and the delicate gyroscopes that will balance movement.

His fingers flicker as he reaches for information.

There is a thin screwdriver in his mouth, held across his lips as his hands correct and make minor adjustments. The metal tastes like possibilities.

His fingers twitch. There is still stiffness in his skin. They remember the feel of his brother’s broken body. Feel what was being lost.

What he was losing.

The heat needed to forge, to fix, had been unbearable, and it took from him, so much.

Now he is different. Part of him is with his brother, keeping him alive, like a donation of a body part. A donation of part of his soul.

Given willingly.

Virgil sighs and returns to the forge to shape more cladding.

The metal is warm under his fingertips.

-o-o-o-

 FIN?

[kazcosmo]

not a double date

oikawa tooru x reader

❥- mutual pining though the both of you don’t know, idiots to lovers (still idiots though), pure fluff

❥- word count; 2,028 words

!not proofread!

(g/n means ‘girl’s name’ because i have literally zero idea what i was gonna do there)

“It’s not a double date,” you tell him, fluffing the pillow behind you to make your seating much more comfortable on the couch inside your best friend’s dorm, “we’re just third and fourth wheeling.” You flash him a grin, “And while we do that we might get to fuck around and mess with him and his date a little.” You add, a mischievous glimmer in your eyes.

The brunette can’t help but huff out a laugh, leaning against his own set of pillows as he remembered the last time Iwaizumi had trusted the both of you enough to let you two go with him to meet with the girl he’s been going on dates for a while. 

Come to think of it, it wasn’t actually that Iwa had trusted you both not to act like idiots, Iwa just knew that the whining from the you and his best friend would never stop until he’s allowed you both to go with him and his girl. Ex-girl, actually.

“Yeah, because that went so well last time.” Oikawa tells you in a singsong voice that would’ve sounded like saccharine if there wasn’t sarcasm dripping off it. You smack his arm, satisfied when he winces.

“Hey! It did!” You protest, pouting at him slightly. “Without us, Iwa would have never found out how incompatible they were, it was kind of obvious, but you know he’s way too polite to pay attention to how bad it was gonna go from there.” You said, beginning to feel a little sulky and grabbing the bowl of popcorn from him and stuffing a few into your mouth. Your reaction only makes him grin wider.

“Sure it was,” he muses, trying to fight the smile forming on his lips as you glared at him you’re your (stolen) bowl of popcorn. “She thought so too, didn’t she? Poor girl just gaped at you when you started questioning her like she committed a crime or something.” Oikawa knew you were telling the truth, of course. You had helped. He was there when everything went downhill. He might’ve helped a little bit, though his little prodding weren’t nearly as obvious or as embarrassing as yours. Heat creeps onto your cheeks and you send a pillow straight to his face.

He’s laughing now, the sound light and airy, maybe attractive if you weren’t so pissed off by his teasing. “God, shut up. And hey! You helped me.” you nearly whine, shutting your eyes and burying your face behind the blankets covering you both as if it would shield you from the onslaught of memories at just how bad (and embarrassing, on your part) it had gotten last time.

You knew that subtlety wasn’t your best suit, and you definitely weren’t subtle when you started throwing questions at the Iwa’s last date. But it helped prevent your friend from landing into a relationship that would have ended badly anyway, you just saved him the trouble of experiencing that.

He smiles at the sight of you hunched over the bowl of popcorn, muttering incoherently, face half-hidden by the blankets. He tugs your arm and you greet his beaming face with a scowl. Still, you scoot closer towards him, careful not to spill any of the popcorn and letting him hold you in a way that’s far too close for two people who are definitely not dating.

You both don’t seem to realize that this proximity towards each other tiptoed over the boundaries of being best friends, after all, you’ve subconsciously went over that line way too many times before.

“Maybe this time I’ll be the one to ask questions, hm?” He asks, the teasing edge still there in the way he spoke. 

You scrunched your face in distaste but still agree anyways, “Yeah, yeah, whatever, just don’t make a fool of yourself.”

“Is this you telling me not to follow your footsteps? Trust me, pretty baby, I won’t.” He says it with mock sincerity that has you setting the bowl on the coffee table in front of you two and turning towards him to attack him with a pillow.

Soon enough, you both were whacking pillows against each other. Whatever was playing on the TV was quickly forgotten, just a faint sound fading into the background as your shrieks and laughter came. Just two best friends about to go on a not-date the day after this, having a pillow fight.

the not-date;

The four of you find yourselves in an arcade, you and Tooru buzzing with excitement, completely forgetting the existence of Iwaizumi and his date, the former watching you both with and exasperated look and the latter smiling at the childish antics that you two have been displaying ever since you guys met at the cafe. 

Pleasantries jad turned into comfortable conversations over a cup of coffee. You nearly forget the fact that you were there to check if Iwa’s new girl has no intentions of hurting him, luckily, Oikawa didn’t. And every careful question was answered with every bit of honesty you two looked for. And soon enough, the brunette was spilling childhood stories about him, you and Iwa-chan. Giving more detail to Iwaizumi, of course. 

Now you were in an arcade, per Tooru’s suggestion.

Your gaze lands at one particular prize; an alien plushy that has you locking eyes with Oikawa, communicating without words. And then you both were off, buying tokens to use, playing games to get the highest amount of tickets to see who could get the cute little alien first. Iwa sighs upon seeing the both of you take off, g/n’s hand tugging at the sleeves of his hoodie and pulling him somewhere to play a couple of games.

A while has passed since that, and here you were, glaring at the brunette, willing him to flinch a little so he’d miss his shot. He’s been going at the basketball game for a few minutes and what ticked you off was that he never missed. Your gaze travels down to where the machine was dispensing a ridiculous amount of tickets. The beginnings of a frown started forming on your lips.

You cross your arms over your chest, still glaring. He sighs, throwing his final winning shot, and this time you really frown a when more tickets starts getting dispensed from the machine. “That’s cheating.” You huff. He only chuckles in response.

“Sore loser.” He sticks his tongue out at you as he kneels to collect everything.

“I want the plushy.” You told him.

“Better luck next time then, y/n-chan.” He tuts and you resist the urge to kick him.

“Tooru,” He stills when you call him, head turning towards you slowly, hands cupping the tickets as he was knelt down. “I want the plushy.” You repeat, pouting slightly.

He looks at you, blinking once to break his stare, before he turns away, sighing again, “Alright, I’ll be kind. I can’t have you being all sad during the ride back home.” As you beam and thank him, getting on your knees as well just to give him a brief hug from behind, his heartbeat speeds up and he silently prays for you not to notice the red tinge on his ears that gave away how affected he was by you. 

But you notice, you always do. But you stayed quiet, never giving him trouble for it. After all, who were you to talk? Saying he doesn’t have an effect on you would be lying anyway.

The day ends with you clutching a green plushy to your chest and Tooru’s hand slung on your shoulders as you, him, Iwaizumi and g/n walk outside and towards Iwa’s car, already having agreed to send them off and his date before going home as well.

“I had so much fun today with all of you guys!” she grinned and you can’t help but smile back. She was different, you knew it, and you knew you didn’t have to tell Iwaizumi that. With the way he looks at her, you know that he knows she’s really special too.

“Haji talks about you guys a lot, and now that I was able to witness it, I can really tell why you guys are such great friends.”

Tooru’s lips form into a pout. You don’t miss the look of mischief in his brown orbs, and you prepare yourself to smack his head for whatever nonsense he was gonna say, “She’s so nice Iwa-chan! You should try being more like her!” He mutters an ‘ow’ under his breath as your palm comes in contact with the back of his head.

“That really hurt y/n-chan!” He whines and you roll your eyes. You hear Iwa say something along the lines of ‘Well deserved, shittykawa.’ that has a pouty Tooru arguing with him. You take the time for your hand to reach up to where you hit him, hands softly tracing soothing circles on his head, fingers tangled in brown locks. G/n notices this and comments about it,

“You guys look so cute together!”

You nearly choke as you hear those words, eyes blown wide as you stare at Iwa’s date. Tooru rubs soothing circles on your back as you try to process her words. He doesn’t miss a beat, flashing a smile to g/n, “We do, don’t we, pretty?” The nickname brings a weird fluttering to your stomach and causes heat to spread on your cheeks, both feelings you were used to whenever the unusually sweet endearment comes up although you’ve never bothered to know why.

You shake off the odd feeling that has you giddy, and you decide to play along, “I guess we do.” You grin sheepishly. When Tooru’s hand reaches for yours, you make no effort to pull away, instead intertwining your fingers with his.

“It’s been really fun guys, I wanna do this again sometime.” She says, bidding you goodbye and seating herself on the front passenger’s seat. Iwa shuts the door behind g/n and you let go of Tooru’s hand, not noticing the frown on his face as you did so. 

Iwaizumi moves towards the door leading to the driver’s seat. He had his hand ready to open the car door when he pauses, “This is your cue to stop being idiots and start dating, it’s really unbearable with all the pining you seem to have no clue you’re doing.” he sighs, opens he door and shuts it again as soon as he was inside.

Iwaizumi had driven off by the time you stop gaping and have finally regained your ability to speak, “I- What?” You ask, dazed by Iwa’s words.

Dating your best friend? The Oikawa Tooru who you grew up with? The same brunette who’s been with you through thick and thin, teasing you and whining along the way. The very guy who’s house you practically considered home. The guy who you shared your problems with and shared his too. Date that guy?

You’ve never really thought of it before, and now that you have, it had your head spinning.

Because it was also that boy who had made you smile no matter what. It was him that caused butterflies in your stomach and heat rushing to your face.

You remember all the times you’ve whined about him to Iwaizumi, complaining about how annoying Oikawa was and how you can’t do anything else but put up with him. Iwa had laughed then, for a reason you didn’t know, and he’d told you, “You know, shittykawa tells me the same thing and I always ask him the same question. Why are you so willing to put up with each other then?”

You weren’t able to answer Iwa’s question.

Maybe you can now.

Your head whips towards Oikawa who just smiles a sickeningly genuine smile that seemed so sweet, an arrow aimed straight to your heart, “Well, you heard him, pretty.” He holds your hand again this time, looking into your eyes as you stared in his brown orbs, ever as soft and sweet as the smile he’s has now. 

“So, when can I take you on a real date? I prefer one where we’re no longer third or fourth wheeling, by the way.”

[bigskydreaming]

Fandom Stuff To-Do List (basically just stuff I want to get to this week in any order, now that I have Completion Capabilities. Not meant to be a promise of any specific things on this for sure getting done, just these are stuff on my mind to get around to when I have the chance)

- Finish meta post about the wings fic AU and how peoples’ wings are affected by massive physical or emotional trauma that changes them as a person (aka do Babs’ wings change when she becomes Oracle). Which will of course segue into a mini-rant about how our culture tends to view trauma and the acquisition of physical disabilities as something there’s no coming back from, like there’s a ceiling on how good a person’s life can ever be after certain things happen to them. 

And that’s why so much of our media content is geared towards treating disabled people and survivors almost more as resources to ensure ‘the same kind of thing’ doesn’t happen to people it hasn’t happened to yet and thus ‘can still be saved/protected.’ Rather than people just fucking acknowledging that trauma is just destructive change that’s impact is relative to how many resources a person has to cope or deal with that change and incorporate it into their life. And that people don’t need to be protected from trauma or accidents as much as is hyped because its literally impossible to ever prevent anything bad from happening ever, so rather than hyping the illusion that ‘this sort of thing could never happen to you as long as you do xyz and don’t do abc’ more attention and focus should be shifted to acknowledging that its still gonna happen sometimes no matter what people do to prevent it or keep safe from it. Because these sorts of trauma ARE EXTERNALLY ORIGINATING and thus there’s literally only ever so much people can do that’s originating within the self to control/protect from being affected in certain ways by stuff originating from outside the self, aka inherently OUT of our control. 

And thus IMO we’d all be better served as a society by paying less lip service to the idea that people can be guaranteed safety or protection from various things and instead have more of that focus and attention shifted over towards the acquisition and building and distributing of more resources to help people in the EVENT of certain things happening to them anyway. Which in turn helps spread the narrative that you know what, even if these things happen, even if you are disabled, even if you are traumatized, that’s not the end of the road, that’s not a dealbreaker, that’s just a CHANGE that we as a society are here to help you through. It just means that your life is different now, that you may be different now, but different doesn’t have to be bad, it doesn’t have to come with a ceiling or limitations, it just means a change in perspective. 

Bad things will still happen, just like bad things still happened before your Big Change, and its important to remember not to glamorize or romanticize the Before time because that tends to gloss over the fact that nobody’s life was ever perfect before big change or trauma hit anyway. So why on earth should it be a surprise (or any different from anyone else’s life) that life isn’t perfect after big change or trauma? That doesn’t mean it can’t still be GOOD. That you won’t still have good days, good surprises, happiness, friends, joy, laughter, that maybe it takes more resources or just DIFFERENT resources to get there than it did before.....but everyone’s life is different and everyone requires different resources to achieve various desired results or experiences in the first place, so its not the end of the world to have to switch your focus and look in different places for different resources now. 

There needs to be less focus on what HAPPENED to people and more focus on what EFFECT it had on them, specifically. On how it changed them and what those changes mean they require now in order to live their life fully and happily,  that just might be different from what they needed before. There needs to be a shift in focus from just the trauma or accident or THING that happened that changed the course or direction of a person’s life as like....the definitive point their life changed, because that THING that happened was still just a THING. It came from the outside. It was external. It literally WASN’T ABOUT THEM, and thus focusing on IT can only ever reveal so much about the PERSON it happened to. 

No, the point of focus for a person’s life changing in the wake of massive trauma or an accident isn’t WHEN that happened, its when in the aftermath of that, however long it took, when that person, that survivor, finally got up one morning and realized they had a new normal. That they weren’t the person they were before, but they aren’t aimlessly lost in a single long-lasting trauma response searching fruitlessly for personal landmarks to reorient themselves when those landmarks simply don’t exist anymore, because they don’t HAVE to find or lean on those old familiar landmarks anymore. Because they’ve found new ones, found their footing in a new landscape, a new approach to living and perceiving the world around them and how it impacts and intersects with them. 

Gimme a change in focus to how recovery isn’t a thing you can ever FIND, that you can ever ACQUIRE by searching for it...and so its less vital that we hold up the idea of it as some kind of semi-mythical Holy Grail its okay to send knights eternally questing for on just the possibility of its existence because hey at least its something to shoot for, when not so deep down a lot of people shelling out advice for recovery that isn’t rooted in their own experiences or utilization of the same advice they’re selling but rather is born of ‘eh, you want something I can’t give or help with and that’s making me uncomfortable so lemme point you in a direction just vague or far away enough that I don’t have to worry about seeing you and your aura of Making Me Uncomfortable around for awhile’....

.....nah, instead how about looking to how resources might be better utilized just....supporting people until they can reach that point of recovery in their own time and their own ways. Because by its very nature, you can spend years working on recovering, on finding a new normal, a new sense of stability in your life, but you’re only ever going to ‘find it’ the day you realize that you’ve ALREADY found it. That you don’t have to go searching for it anymore because its already there, you settled and replanted yourself without even realizing it. Recovery in the wake of trauma is about searching for a way to feel better, to heal, to move past something, and the answer to that need is a feeling of no longer needing to search or find that ephemeral something, because you’re content, you’re okay with who and what you are now. And you don’t need to look anymore for something you wake up and realize you’ve already found somewhere along the way. 

Being disabled, being traumatized, being hurt, being CHANGED by some kind of big ass fucking Meteor Of Suck smacking into the planet that is your life and wiping out the fucking dinosaurs of this weirdo metaphor, like....yes, it leaves a mark, makes an impact, oftentimes a BIG one. But like, without the meteor that ended the dinosaur age or whatever, none of us would even be here because the point is just life goes on, and there’s no predicting what it will look like tomorrow, so yeah it could be worse and maybe it’ll never be like it was before, but there’s absolutely zero proof it couldn’t maybe be BETTER, even if it doesn’t ever look the way it was before. 

Change is just change. Its not the enemy, its just the point of life. Like we’re born and then things change every single day of our life however long it is and then we die. Birth and death are the bookends, and constant change is every single page of the book in between that. Change isn’t the villain of our story, change IS our story. 

And its OUR story, so it never gets to be defined by what someone else does to us in the story, because the hero’s journey isn’t about what MADE the hero set out on their quest, its about their QUEST itself, its about their TRIUMPH, its not about what happened its about what THEY decided to do NEXT because of it. Its not about the catalysts for our changes, its about what we decided to DO, who we decided to BECOME, once those catalysts hit the page and necessitated further change. 

Your trauma, your change, none of those are YOU, because YOU are the person you see when you look in the mirror and take all of that in, view it as part of you, your story, something that left a mark just like every single experience of your life has left SOME kind of impact no matter how small, and who you changed into, decided to become, how you incorporated all those marks and changes and experiences....THAT is you. The ENTIRETY of that map, not the single markers along the way, no matter how loud or dramatic or attention-grabbing they try to be. 

You are the map of your experiences and you only look to a map, a map only matters to you when its about leading or finding the way to where YOU want to go, with intent. No road map gets to take the wheel of the car just because you aren’t going in the direction it said you were supposed to go originally. If you get lost, you get lost. If you end up somewhere you didn’t expect, you end up somewhere you didn’t expect. If you realize you no longer want or need to go where you were setting out to originally, if you change your mind or decide another destination is better suited to you, you get to look to your map and draw a new route accordingly, because its YOURS, it only exists because of you, not you because of it. 

Your trauma or whatever else is fucking up your life may be big fucking pieces of the mosaic you are when you see yourself in the mirror metaphorically speaking cuz I want this analogy to be inclusive for blind people too and I just realized I need to spend more time thinking up alternative ways to express that sentiment that don’t rely on a singular axis of experience to convey it, because that’s kinda the point in and of itself: 

We’re all born with toolboxes that give us a variety of tools to approach life with, to build things out of, to build OUR life out of. The aim of civilization, of society, of being a species that only made it this far by being communal and building things together, pooling our tools to build things none of us were equipped to build with just what we already had...is that ideally, the toolbox we’re born with gets added to by others around us. Our parents or guardians or teachers, our friends and loved ones, the random person at the store who saw someone was a dollar short at the grocery store register and offered one of their own or the way we can add to someone else’s toolbox by simply asking if they’re alright when we can see they’re not and then just like that they have the added resource of the knowledge that someone cares enough about them to want to know what’s wrong. 

And none of our toolboxes are identical. None make it all the way to our deathbed with us while containing the exact same tools we started with, some are missing, some are added. Some we didn’t even realize we had. Some we never even used. Some we used the hell out of and are worn to pieces and some are shiny and new because we wore out the older version of them and needed a replacement. And sometimes big fucking meteors of suck smack into our lives right when we’re just minding our own business and enjoying our own jurassic age and everything changes forever, but millions of years later we might still be around and now we just look like chickens and alligators and sharks and all the other creatures that are basically just dinosaur descendants in a different form because we’re hardy as fuck and damn I really need to get over this metaphor it is not the analogy I’m looking for but oh well. 

Point is, sometimes Change happens and the tools we’re used to leaning on when building our better, ideal lives and optimal experiences, like....maybe they just don’t work for us anymore. Maybe we can’t grip the old familiar ones the way we used to, maybe our eyes have gone to shit and we can’t wield the more precise instruments with the precision we’re used to, maybe the nails we were using to build stairs in our dream house are fucking useless cuz they’re not the right size when building the wheelchair ramp our new dream house needs instead.......and so fucking what? What does any of that actually say about US, about who we ARE, about what our life could be or how good it could get? 

Absolutely nothing. Because the toolboxes we were born with were still only ever just tools. What we ARE is what we make with them, what we build out of ourselves, what we choose with intent to become. So what if our old tools aren’t up to the task of actualizing our new dreams? That’s what we need other people for. That’s what society SHOULD be for. That’s when what we need is not to be FIXED, not to be restocked with what we had originally but is now no longer of use to us or what we need or maybe even not what we want.....no, all we need is....new tools. New resources. New kinds of help. 

And again, that’s what society is SUPPOSED to be for. To help us define ourselves not by the problems we face but our solutions to overcoming them. To help give each other new tools and teach each other how to use them when change necessitates hunting around for something that’s easier to grip now. And if we all come into the world starting out with different tools than everyone else anyway.....what does it MATTER if somewhere along the way we have to swap out the old familiar ones we started with and look for new ones we didn’t need originally? 

A cane is just a cane to help someone walk because for whatever reasons, their legs or spine need that tool to help get them where they want to go. A cane is not proof that it will never take them to a destination where they’re every fucking bit as happy as people who made it to the same place without the use of one. A cane is not THEM. Its just a fucking cane. Same thing with glasses, with wheelchairs, with prosthetic limbs, with hearing aids. Same thing with support groups, with therapists, with trauma centers. 

Like do people ever think about how fucking AMAZING it is that we have prosthetics at all? That somewhere along the line, people saw a problem, saw a need, that was not ‘oh this person (or maybe even ‘they themselves’ because let’s not go the saviorism route and forget that disabled people have had plenty the fuck to do with designing or dreaming up or building the tools disabled people use to navigate life while working with a different set of physiological tools than most people are equipped with. Like this isn’t a ‘oh look how good other people are to people in need’ point but more just a ‘people-as-in-society-overall-which-includes-both-able-bodied-and-disabled’ point). 

Like the point is the response to seeing that was not just ‘oh so and so or maybe even me is damaged beyond repair,’  no instead it was just ‘this person’s legs aren’t currently equpped to do what this person needs or wants them to do.’ And people said okay the solution, the answer, the RESPONSE to seeing that problem or need was not to sit back and think about how much it sucks that this person can’t walk on their own and how limited or ‘lesser’ their life will be than other peoples’ because of that, no they said instead, hey, what if we just BUILT THEM DIFFERENT LEGS. Like, just THINK about that. We, as a people, communally, as in more than one, pooled resources to BUILD PEOPLE NEW FUCKING LEGS. 

And all it ultimately took, the catalyst for THAT, for changing the lives of people who use prosthetics as tools in their day to day lives....the catalyst for that CHANGE was NOT in fact....whatever happened to make various people need prosthetics in the first place. No, the catalyst, the change that got us to the point of people having the OPTION of prosthetics at all, was the point in time where people saw a need, and came up with the solution of prosthetics to address that need. When they said not oh that’s a problem or oh sorry you have that need, but oh I have an idea, or oh here’s what we can do about that. The defining element wasn’t that something needed building. The defining element was WHAT PEOPLE CHOSE TO BUILD BECAUSE OF THAT. 

Just like severe trauma is a catalyst for change in a person’s life, a meteor that no one saw coming and can dramatically reshape the landscape of their life, wipe out familiar comforts and landmarks they use to orient themselves.....but at the end of the day, that person is not the meteor itself. We don’t call them whatever we call that meteor, we call them by their fucking name because they’re still the same fucking person, just in a different place now, with different needs, with different dreams or wants or goals. Who they are isn’t how rough they have it while they’re going through the most....because how much a trauma shakes up a person’s life is directly relative to how equipped they are already to deal with that particular trauma or change. 

So by its very nature the ‘worst’ or most changing traumas are the ones that we’re personally LEAST equipped to deal with at that particular time on our own, and how fucking stupid is it to try and draw conclusions about a person based just on how they react in the immediate aftermath of an event whose defining element is that it was a destructive change that was uniquely impactful because it hit them where they were least equipped to deal with it? 

Like, NOBODY is equipped to handle well, like, an event that relative to THEM SPECIFICALLY, like....is something they’re not equipped to handle. LOL. Like, that’s so fucking dumb, but that’s who we ALL are when in the midst of massive trauma responses - just people hunting desperately for new normals, new landmarks, new awareness with which to recenter ourselves, reorient ourselves, redefine who and what we are in relation to our lives and society and our loved ones in the wake of a massive change that shook things up and required repositioning ourselves because the spot we used to be positioned on no longer exists.

And what the fuck can you learn, can you actually KNOW about a person based solely on the fact that ‘oh this person is having a hard time dealing with something that there’s literally NO good way to deal with?’ 

People talk a lot about how revealing trauma or tragedy is, that you can learn a lot by seeing how someone handles a huge trauma or tragedy being thrown at them, even in fiction. But y’know what? There’s a ceiling on how much that alone can ever reveal, especially if the lens of time through which you examine that person or character is limited just to the aftermath of the trauma, the thing that HAPPENED to them. Rather than focused on the beginning of their new journeys, once they’ve reoriented themselves, acquired new tools, picked new destinations or goals for their lives and set out to now make THOSE a reality....just like people before or without massive trauma or tragedy are similarly not defined by the LACK of what didn’t happen to them, but simply by......what destinations or goals they pick for their lives and their journeys to get there and what they do and what choices they make along the way. 

Nah, if you ask me, a person’s truest essence isn’t revealed by what they do with whatever limited tools or resources they have when struggling with a massive trauma or tragedy that’s only massive specifically BECAUSE it hit them in a way or place they were ill-equipped or unprepared to deal with. Because the essence of that person, the truth revealed by examining that struggle, the answer in focus when looking through just that finite lens....can be boiled down to the exact same thing, no matter WHO you put in that place. 

What they do in the wake of a massive trauma is simply ‘as much as they’re capable of given their limited resources or capabilities at THAT SPECIFIC POINT IN TIME.’ Which is inherently....not a lot. Completely subjective and relative to every individual, given the different traumas, resources and needs or injuries relative to every individual while they’re going through their fucking worst....but that’s still the point. 

A person struggling with things beyond their capability to handle well at that given moment given their current state or resources.....is ultimately never going to appear as anything other than.....a person struggling with things beyond their capability to handle well at that given moment given their current state or resources. Wow. Really pegged that person huh. Got them all summed up, totally differentiated from every other person to ever go through shit, just by seeing them.....not handle it great when by its very nature of fucking course they’re not going to handle a trauma they’re not prepared for with any degree of ‘great.’

Like, is it any wonder our society has this built in presumption that experiencing certain traumas or tragedies just fucking CONDEMNS that person to from then on live a life that will never actually measure up to being as optimal as it maybe could have been if that hadn’t happened? What other conclusion are you gonna draw, about how good or not a person’s life is in the wake of massive destructive change....if you’re only ever focusing on or looking at how they react at the specific point where they’re LEAST equipped to deal with that trauma or tragedy well?

Because thing is....that’s not a person. That’s a snapshot of a person. Try and define me or sum me up by looking at a fucking Polaroid of me when I was ten or whatever. Go on. See how revealing that is. Tell me what that says about me.

People can’t be defined by negative space. By what they’re NOT. By all the ways in which they can’t be what they MIGHT have been had something happened different, or all the things they COULD be if they were born into different circumstances. You do that, you’re not describing a person, you’re describing hypotheticals that you can apply as desired to ANY person, with just a few tweaks here and there, and thus always find a way to picture them as you want to for your own personal purposes, agenda or comfort, rather than gaining any insight whatsoever about who they are as defined by the space that they DO fill up, with intent, by their choices.

We don’t look to the early history of our species and talk about all the people who DIDN’T discover fire, maybe even just because they were born in a fucking wet climate or whatever where it was inherently more difficult to happen across the realization that striking sticks or stones in certain ways can make a very useful and helpful flame. With the point being that even if we DID talk about those early humans as much as we did the ones who got actual bonfires going, the fact that they simply ‘weren’t the ones to discover fire’ actually would reveal shit about them in and of itself, because who’s to say that the reason, the ‘culprit’ for that was that they were simply too dumb or whatever to figure that out instead of just being they lived in a climate that made that discovery particularly difficult or less likely to happen by chance? Y’know? 

But no, anyway, we talk about the ones who DID discover fire, because the turning point for our species which that was, like, we don’t look at it and define it by the lack of it happening sooner, at the problem that not having fire was for the people who came before that discovery. It was the triumph that mattered, it was the choices made in the wake of that discovery, it was how people put that new tool to work and not oh how revealing it is about the rest of early humanity that they didn’t put that tool to work in similar ways because it simply wasn’t even a possibility for them when it was simply a resource they didn’t have.

Nah, IMO a person’s truest essence is revealed not by their problems or their lacks, not by the hypothetical maybe me they could have been if they went through life without anything bad ever happening to them and thus who they’ll never actually be now. Its not revealed by taking a snapshot of them in the moments or days or even weeks following a trauma or tragedy that struck with an accompanying seismic shake-up of all their existing stability and support systems that ultimately limited how much or many of the resources they’d previously acquired or built could even be of use to them in dealing with things now. You don’t learn anything substantial by putting people in a room with only two exits and one of them locked and then act like its an insightful revelation that they ultimately make their way out by means of the finite options available to them when their options have been actively limited by forces outside them and their control, even if that wasn’t the ‘optimal’ answer to that predicament and you wanted them to make other more ideal choices without acknowledging they literally were limited to the most basic of fucking choices available. No, IMO the actual revelations about people come in their declaration of a new want or wish or ask or goal AFTER they’ve found their footing and are ready to live again rather than just cope. 

Why define ourselves by our needs when we’re most ourselves when dreaming of our wants?

You don’t gain the most insight by watching someone flail about when they’re at their lowest and just floundering. You want insight, you look to see what tools they use to pull themselves upright, what resources they ask for or seek out in order to build something new that they can place upon their new shaken-up-and-reformed foundations and from there find some stability with which to pull themselves FORWARD. Instead of just clinging to the shattered remnants of whatever their source of stability was previously but is no longer useful for that purpose, maybe not even because they WANT to cling to just that or are afraid or unwilling to move forward, but because they simply can’t reach any fucking resources with which to do anything BUT just cling to what little they could grab, and what they actually need is just someone to offer them said resources instead of just acting like they really did something by looking at a person lacking in resources and then judging or defining them simply by all the things they AREN’T doing to better themselves or their lives, WHEN THAT’S ONLY BECAUSE THEY’RE LACKING THE FUCKING RESOURCES TO DO ANY OF THAT.

You see who a person is not by comparing them to who they MIGHT have been before, because who can say with any certainty what person they might have been the day after that massive trauma or tragedy, had said trauma or tragedy never actually occurred? Who can guarantee that person, that hypothetical maybe-me is ACTUALLY better than who they are or can become now?

Nope. You wanna know who that person is? That’s who they declare themselves to be the second they stop trying to define themselves by who they WERE and thus who they’re not anymore....but rather by who they are NOW, and who they want to be from here on out. You don’t look at the person who’s been pushed to the ground and say oh that’s that person, that’s who that person is. No, all that tells you is that person was pushed to the ground by an asshole, and surprise surprise, they fell because that’s what fucking happens when someone pushes you to the ground, lolol. That’s not the nature of a person, that’s the nature of physics. Wow. Person A is affected by gravity and the forceful aggression of assholes in their vicinity. The uncanny insight of it all.

You wanna see that person, you look at who they are AFTER they’ve pulled themselves back up. You see what they do THEN. Once they’re back in control of themselves, their life, in the driver’s seat.

You can’t define people by the lack of something. A lack of control, a lack of choice, a lack of resources. Because we are our choices, we are the journeys we take, we are what happens on the next page of our story because the next page of our story only EVER happens because each and every page we decided to MAKE something happen next. 

And we can only MAKE those choices, versus have them made for us and which thus says more about the person who forced those choices on us than it does us for simply being unable to stop that, we can only TAKE those journeys, versus being forced into certain directions and paths and down certain roads by limited options that say more about how little a person can do with only finite options available to them rather than say anything substantial about what directions a person might go in if they had actual options and choices available to them beyond just being presented with two routes that both equally suck, we can only do anything substantial with any of that, anything that says anything about US rather than just descriptive of our circumstances....

We can only do anything with all of that AFTER we’ve gained or taken back or regained control over our lives. AFTER we’ve found our footing. AFTER we’ve said well guess what, this happened then, but guess what else happened today? I got out of bed and said okay so we’re just not gonna worry about that because its over and done and it doesn’t get to be the only thing that matters about us. So instead, how about what matters right now is whatever the fuck I choose to do today, because THAT is up to me, THAT says something about me, THAT is not just some random rock crashing into me from outer fucking space and saying knock knock, fuck you. THAT is ME, saying with intent, THIS is who I am now and THIS is what I’m going to do today, and THAT’S an actual story about me and my choices and my PERSONHOOD. Versus just a summation of how shitty I looked while being smacked in the face by a mountain of bullshit and me without so much as an umbrella.

THAT’S a story about a person. That other thing, that fixation on the rock that crashed into them without warning? Its ultimately never going to be anything other than the story of how a person got hit by a fucking rock.

All of which is to say, so yeah, in that wing fic AU, Babs’ wings do change after what happens with the Joker, even though her wings had already settled.

BUT, the key thing about that is....the point of CHANGE for her wings was NOT when the Joker shot her. Its not when her life, when SHE changed, ‘because of that.’ Because maybe her wings didn’t work the same way anymore after that happened, because they represented who she was before that. And before that she was and thought of herself as someone who could grapple between buildings, flip kick into bad guys, do cartwheels across rooftops, and she can’t do those things anymore so maybe her wings don’t work for her in the way they used to because they were ‘designed’ for someone who lived life in a way she was no longer capable of. 

But her wings didn’t just change then and there, they still remained the same as always even if they weren’t as useful because maybe she could still fly perhaps, but not land in the ways her wings were designed to do that, due to the changed capabilities of her legs and spine which were meant to work in concert with her wings. 

See, because the point is.....if the wings are the ultimate expression of the self, even acknowledging that she was in fundamental ways CHANGED at that point (not lessened, but changed, made different, needing different things and having different wants).....the point is, at just that specific time, in the immediate aftermath of that trauma, what would her wings have changed into? What would they LOOK like, simply because say, two days ago, the Joker shot her and now she’s paralyzed? If she’s no longer the old her, how could the new her POSSIBLY be defined by that little data, that little definition, that small an image or encapsulation of everything she still MIGHT yet be or become once she’s out of bed, out of tears, out of grief for the goals that are no longer viable and now ready to say okay, now let me decide what DOES come next for me now.

So yes, Babs’ wings do change after the Joker shoots her, but they remain as they were for awhile. Just not as useful to her now that her toolbox of physical capabilities was less equipped to accommodate her newly changed needs and approaches to life.

When they change, its because she’s already become Oracle. That’s who she is now, Batgirl is a part of that but more about who she was. It’s part of the foundation she built her new self atop, its never going to not be a part of her, never going to leave, it still matters....but it is not the building itself anymore, it is the bedrock that made it through the seismic upheaval of her life and thus was sturdy enough she felt safe building something new on it, something that could ride out further earthquakes thanks to having it to ground her. But as integral as it is to what she built in the wake of her big quake....it is not the house she houses her self-image in. That’s Oracle’s domain now.

And so when her wings do change, it happens overnight, while she’s asleep. Dreaming of everything she wants now, everything she wants to become. They change not in a ‘this is happening’ sense, much like we’re never fully aware of how far into our recovery process we are.....instead, they change in a ‘huh, so this happened’ sense. Just like we only realize how much we’ve recovered, how much we no longer need to define ourselves by a quest to be better, happier, more alright...once we’ve already found that happiness or contentment and realized the reason there’s no longer the same drive to pursue some abstract image of recovery is simply because we no longer need to go anywhere to get that, we’re already there and this is what that looks like.

And so when one day Babs wakes up feeling different and looks in the mirror to see her wings no longer look like they used to but rather seem much more suited to the woman she is now, the woman she envisioned in her mind as a new goal or destination of self-determination, that she chose to become with intent, that she worked to become so she could be defined by something other than what some asshole did to her, so that she could be the sum of her deeds rather than the snapshot of her tragedy.....its a sign of change. Of her change, and proof that her life is not now what it once was, and never will be again.....but its not some big momentous reveal, more just an exhale of affirmation for something she’s already known for awhile and just now has the distance and perspective to see actual proof of. 

Its the marker of the fact that actually she’s okay with it, she’s okay with herself, her new self, because she doesn’t need to be who she might have been without that trauma, she doesn’t need to be a maybe when who she is? Has no more of a built in limit or ceiling or cap on happiness and success than the woman she was before her trauma had. She doesn’t love what happened to her, but its just something that happened to her. Its not who she is, THIS is who she is, this is THAT, and this she’s more than okay with, she’s proud of, she’s like damn I look good. Life threw a punch at her and she got into a wheelchair and rolled with it, and if you’re busy looking at the bruise from that punch because you’re so focused on the fact that it happened, you’re missing the real story. 

And that’s the way she pulled herself out of bed every morning for a year and into her wheelchair to train with escrima sticks in whole new ways of fighting so the next time the Joker tried knocking on her door, he wouldn’t get to pull the same shit twice. Because she’s not the same woman she was then and anyone focusing on THAT instead of watching out for all the ways she can still kick ass, some old, some new, some that she invented herself because necessity is the mother of invention and Babs has always been driven to be the top of her class for reasons that have everything to do with just HER and absolutely nothing at all with what happened to put her in a class where fighting from a wheelchair was a tool she felt she needed -

Well maybe they need to get clocked across the head with a stick to drive home that they’ve missed the entire point, that if you’re there looking to see a tragedy you’ve got the wrong fucking address cuz she’s doing just fine.

And so she wakes up one day and looks in her mirror and sees her wings have changed overnight and they look nothing like she remembers but tbh, she likes these a lot better, likes the way they feel, the shape of them, they just FIT....and then she just nods her head decisively, quietly pleased but in no rush to make any big announcement, because for her, this changes nothing. Its just a sign that change has already happened.

And its like....duh, she already knew that, and she’s more than okay with it, so semantics can wait for another time. She’s Barbara Gordon, the Oracle of Gotham, and she’s got shit to do.

And okay, so clearly, I ended up just writing that post instead of writing the rest of that to-do list, so I’m gonna now go make another post with the ACTUAL to-do list, and like, yay, I can cross this off I guess? My process is so mysterious, oh unknowable ways.

[anxiouslyfred]

Black???? Out Mall

Summary: Most people do not believe that black is a colour the soulmate link can prevent you from seeing. A complete black out in a mall has Remus’s friend relying on the fact he’s never been able to see black and has far better dark vision because of it. Now he just needs to avoid making eye-contact with the only other person leading friends around the mall.

/\/\

Virgil's world had always been difficult to describe. People would talk about the world in shades of light and dark, white to black when mentioning the colours they couldn't see, but that could never work for him. Afterall, it's hard to explain that inside the night is dark brown and there's a specific shade of violet especially for midnight when everyone else just calls the dark black.

Part of him wished that there was a different colour he couldn't see, but no, there could be nothing black for him. Anything that would be black outside of the dark was a gentle ash green, far paler than people would believe, if they even considered that he couldn't see black true at all.

Mostly people just dismissed it, calling him a liar and that he could just say he didn't want to share. It had always been that way, from the first time his parents had asked what colour he couldn't see on the wheel to the crowd he befriended in school and finally following him into the work place. Each group that knew Virgil would only have him reply to the question once before he retreated, blocking them from ever getting close.

He did still find the ash-grey a comforting colour to wear though and would just claim to be trying out camouflage whenever someone commented on his usually black outfits. Once he managed to get a top that actually was ash-green but got put of wearing it after a few too many comments about his 'Summer look'. It felt like Virgil couldn't win, either he wouldn't be listened to about being unable to see black, or people would call out the times he mistook ash-green things for black ones. At least paints named the colours usually, so he didn't have to worry over mixing them up incorrectly.

/swap character focus\

All of Remus's room was maroon and green. Well if you asked him it was and he wouldn't give anyone a chance to argue with that. If he said something was maroon purple then nothing would change his mind, no matter how many people insisted the walls were painted black.

Currently Janus was the only person who had stuck around long enough to learn that Remus honestly couldn't tell when things were black and knew that when soulmates came up there would be a wonderfully long lecture over the many reasons, suppositions and stories Remus had over why people would claim such an absurd colour as black existed. Too many times they'd watch someone dismiss from all realms of possibility that Remus really couldn't see black and wouldn't until he met his soulmate only to quickly want to run away at the rather violent suggestions Remus had for “imbeciles obsessed with everything having opposites”. It was one of the more amusing things Janus found happening since befriending Remus and was at least generally harmless.

Remus was actually more interested in the places he could navigate better than everyone else. He'd perfected moving around in dark rooms, moving through the brown and around the objects that appeared other colours. For some reason if people could see black they couldn't see the other colours of objects in the night which frankly sounded like some evolutionary flaw.

He'd dragged Janus with him to all manner of deserted places, looking for ghosts and cool trinkets abandoned to time, despite their complaints that they could see nothing and had to be guided around constantly. It just gave Remus more chance to cling onto someone who wasn't shoving him away really.

This time though was not intentional, planned, or even something Remus had expected to be possible.

Everyone, literally everyone, said malls had back up generators and emergency lights in case there was a power outage or something went wrong; That you couldn't just cause a full on black out because they'd have emergency lights coming on in minutes so why was Remus suddenly having to pull Janus along carefully behind him and trying to remember the way out?

“You do know where we're going, don't you Remus?” Janus's normally carefully controlled voice was wavering, uncertain of the situation and what could be happening.

Remus couldn't blame them, almost everyone had sat down, or was stumbling forwards, trying to find a wall and then follow it somewhere. There was a group ahead that hadn't though. It looked like they were trying to do a conga line and possibly the person leading them could see where they were going.

If it hadn't been for the grip on his hand tightening and pulling him back to the present situation Remus would have raced after to find out if his was his someone who couldn't see black either. “Sure. You pulled us in at the entrance to that kids shop and that's back here, up in the lift... I'm gonna have to break into the lift now, aren't I?”

“Just look for some stairs. We can figure out the way back to the shop from there.” Janus sighed, trying for disappointed but just sounding scared at this point. There wasn't even a guarantee they'd be able to get out if they did manage to find an exit with this power-cut.

They'd carried on walking while muttering to each other, not wanting to have everyone they passed attempt to join up with them, and bringing them a lot closer to the group Remus had spied before. He definitely would have preferred to avoid the group now given he could see his brother as part of it, but the leader was heading directly for them.

“Yo, can you see or are you just wanting to trip over as many people as you can?” The leader of the group called and Remus was torn between making immediate eye contact and trying to avoid it as long as possible.

Janus had turned to the voice already and was tentatively trying to head in that direction so Remus had to keep pace if only so they didn't fall. “Much as tripping over everyone sounds like fun Jan would kill me if I caused him an injury.” He replied, focusing on Roman to avoid looking at the front of the group.

His brother's stumble literally cause the rest to all stumble too, only just gaining their footing before any of them fell. “Remus? What the hell are you doing in here?”

“Trying to find one of those gadget shops. See if we can steal their stock of night vision goggles so me and Janus can make a break for freedom. I see Patton, Logan and a stranger up front. New friend or did you describe me enough that they ran screaming any time you mentioned I'd pop in to bother you?” Now he'd said it, Remus actually thought finding some night vision goggles would be sensible, at least it would give Janus a bit more confidence in the dark. Plus then he could possibly even make eye contact with the hoodie clad guy.

“Virgil, Premier Tour Guide for dark halls and supplier of every worry you'll never need.” Roman introduced, attempting to bow and wave towards the front of the conga line but headbutting Logan's back instead.

Remus snickered at that, but before he could say anything Logan spoke up. “I do have to agree that even some poor quality night vision goggles would probably do us good right now. There should be one... Virgil, what shops are we next to currently?”

“Princey's favourite jewellers and it looks like there's a build-a-bear around the next bend. Ro, Is this the brother that thinks everything is maroon, or have we run into someone else?” There was something harsh in Virgil's words, as though whenever he'd come up between them Roman had upset Virgil with something he'd said.

“He's only got the one Remus. That much I can tell you. So are we joining up for now?” Remus nodded, turning to scan the shops along with Virgil, wondering if Logan would need any more details to locate the shop he'd thought of.

That didn't prove to be necessary as Logan was tugging and twisting in his spot of the conga line to turn them around. “We've come the wrong way then. Back around the corner, 5 shops along and there's a gadget shop. I definitely saw some night vision goggles when I was looking for cheap chemistry supplies.”

“Off we go then.” Virgil nodding, gripping Patton's hands on his waist to lead them off with Remus and Janus following behind.

Remus let them fall back a little, just enough that the group could hear their steps but they could talk quietly without the words being distinguishable. “Are you okay with joining them? I kinda just changed the plans on you when you wanted to find an exit as soon as.”

“If you promise not to even look at Virgil until I have some of those goggles on I guess so.” They demanded. “You could lose your special ability in the worst possible situation”

“Best thing about being unable to see black, it gives night vision while no other colour provides benefits to being unable to see it.” Remus snickered, moving a little faster once again.

There were fewer people in this section of the mall and all of them seemed to have reached the walls or some kind of furniture and decided to stop there to rest. It made for quicker movement, but also disappointed Remus a little that he wasn't getting to dodge them around human obstacles constantly. That did at least give him the opportunity to try going as fast as Janus could stumble along behind him and overtake Roman's little group in entering the shop.

“Everyone, I need a very specific thing from these shelves so you better be backing away from them now.” He snarled, dropping Janus's hands and beaming at the frightened squeaks let out from the customers and staff of the store. It wasn't often he could be this threatening when most people assumed his ruffles and lace meant he was harmless, despite how dark and unnerving the designs on them were.

He didn't waste time enjoying the fear though, hurrying to scan the shelves, trying to locate where the night vision goggles were. They couldn't have been a fashionable item to use since Remus was on one of the shelves further back and away from the tills by the time he found them. He didn't hesitate to start tearing the box of one open, grabbing as many more as would fit in his arms before heading back to where Janus was being pulled along beside Virgil now.

“I got goggles for everyone!” Remus bounced, already putting the open set onto Janus and trying to figure out the on switch. The instructions would be no help, with white paper and black writing the entire page just looked brown to Remus. “seeing yet? Seeing yet? Seeing yet?”

The repetition of the words was interrupted by hands shoving him away from the headset. “Shut up, get to opening boxes or go and see if you can pay for these at the checkout.” Virgil hissed, already removing the headset to check for the switch on it. “So you're Janus, I guess. Tell me if you can see anything through this now?” Remus heard the mutter as he was opening up the fifth box. He'd set 2 aside, intending to shove them into Janus's arms just in case he and Virgil would need them in a few moments, but for now he was going to stare at everyone's shoes while passing goggles to Virgil.

“You're a lot better at getting things functional than Remus is. I never heard your pronouns though, so can I have them?” Janus confirmed, already breathing a little easier as they stood looking around the store.

“Can't have them, they're mine already, but I go by he/him.” Virgil nodded, already taking the next and moving to help Patton get the goggles on.

Janus paused, looking towards the check out and back to the group they made. “I'm not some kind of Fae, you know. Although, given how well you're navigating through here, could you be? Or perhaps you just can't see black, like Remus here?” Their questions were prying and definitely spoilt some of the fun Remus had been hoping to have while trying to make eye contact with Virgil.

“You mean ash-green right?” There was a smirk and a snicker in Virgil's voice as Remus's head shot up to stare at his back, almost at the same time as Roman let out a loud groan.

“That's a Remus line! No becoming my brother, Virge!” Roman exclaimed, making everyone start snickering now. Only Remus seemed to notice that Patton had wandered off with his wallet out as soon as his goggles were functional. Apparently his wonderful theft wasn't allowed to actually be a theft. What a complete shame!

Virgil had sorted Logan out a lot more quickly than the first to, but held the last open set of goggles above Roman's head, just enough for one of the cords to brush his hair and shoulder. The shrieks only setting off more laughter and snickers from the friends. “If you're that scared of the night vision goggles, perhaps I shouldn't give you them.”

“You Nightmare. Give me back some sight, right this instant!” Roman's demands probably would have been more effective if he hadn't turned around completely in his fright. Still Virgil put them on him with no further argument, while Remus wished he could have scared his brother a bit more while stood in the dark.

The he realised that that was the last of their friends with night vision goggles on and he could actually find out if Virgil was his soulmate or not and had to leap over to him. “Can I see you now?” He cheered, getting their faces as close together as possible before whining when there was suddenly nothing to see.

“You better have got enough of those goggles for us or your next sight of me is going to be when I attack you!” Virgil snarled, though a hand tightening on his upper arm kept him close.

“Januuuuussssss, My soulmate if threatening meeeeee! Can I at least have the goggles to see if he still looks as hot while threatening me as I think he does?” Remus whined, leaning his head as far backwards as he could imagining he was still able to see Janus standing a little way behind him.

He didn't hear any response though, only the shuffling and a few snickers from his friends for a few minutes. Randomly he'd let out self pitying whines for a bit before he decided to see if the hand on his arm was far enough up he could nuzzle it with his head.

For all he'd heard about black as a colour it really wasn't that interesting when absolutely everything was covered in it with no distinction to offer shapes or forms. It did however give him the chance to try getting to know Virgil's body by touch he eventually thought, only to get his hands slapped away if they strayed off of his arms.

“Fine, if I put the goggles on you, are you going to stop trying to grope me?” Virgil eventually snickered, already pushing them over his head after shoving it upright again.

“No promises there, My Maroon,” Remus tried to leer but was already distracted looking around for their friends. “Where'd everyone go?”

“Well I think Patton's trying to figure out how many other set of goggles he can afford to give to everyone and Logan is trying to talk him out of that. Janus and Roman have both gone in search of the exit once more. All pretty much excuses to as Roman put it 'Leave the gloomy soulmates to get used to the dark.'” Virgil waved in a few directions before actually taking Remus's hand. “Getting to know you sounds more interesting than this new colour though.”

They might still be in a powerless shopping mall for an undetermined future, but at least Remus and Virgil had found their soulmates and proven that black definitely is a colour and they couldn't see it before.

[juminsmysticmc]

Hello! Can we get a MC who is terrified of falling. Like hights are ok, put her in a plane and she’d want the window seat, roller coaster she wants the front row. But have her get on a ladder, Ferris wheel or walk over an overpass. And, oh look at that anxiety and fear has returned. Her breathing becomes uneven, she might freeze up or start to shake. How would the RFA+duo help her or calm her down in these cases?

RFA + Minor Duo with a MC who is terrified of falling

Hello did you call me? Although my fear is kinda different, like, I can fo on the Ferris Wheel or so but don’t let me walk staircases or god leave me alone with double beds, hahaha! I always needed my friend’s hand when we had to walk on these high bars at school for the sports lesson….well, I hope you enjoy the HC! Please tell me your opinion dear!

Jumin

As the wife of Jumin Han, you often had to go on a plane with him to visit very important people who also invited you. When Jumin first found out that you were scared, it was on the way to your honeymoon. The both of you were at the airport and you were just about to get on his private plane when you suddenly stopped walking and grabbed his hand. ,,My love, is everything alright?’’ he asked you, stroking your hand. ,,Yes, yes, Jumin, it’s just, I am too scared to… to… walk on the ladder…’’ you mumbled. His plane was really big. It took Jumin a while to understand what you were trying to tell him, but when your hand began to get sweaty he began to understand that you were scared. He took off his tie and used it to cover your eyes. ,,Ju-Jumin?!’’ you called his name. ,,Mc, don’t be scared. I will lead the way. Trust me. I won’t make you fall for anything in the world,’’ he whispered and helped you to slowly get on the plane.  ,,The window. I need a window seat…’’ you told him. Jumin couldn’t understand the reason because he thought that if someone is scared, they don’t want to look down, but apparently, you were different. Of course, the flight went well, but as soon as you were on the ground again you had to throw up because of the panic. And that triggered Jumin into finding a solution for you and your phobia.

Zen

A few years passed since you and Zen got to know each other. Zen first wanted to get his family approval before he would ask you to marry him, but since it didn’t work out and in his opinion, you waited for too long, he decided to bring you to the park and propose to you on the Ferris wheel. This ended up being a mistake. There were still a few things he didn’t know about you, even though you guys were together for so long. For example, he didn’t know that you were afraid of heights. Well, at least he found out. Hyun Ryu aka your future husband planned everything in his head. He didn’t know that real life had something else for him. For example, you cried in front of the big wheel for ten minutes. ,,I don’t want to, Hyun!’’ you sobbed. ,,Why, Mc? I have something important to ask you!’’ he begged you. He even prepared some fireworks which would begin as soon as you were on top. He planned to ask you to marry him, you to say yes, and then kiss you while the colorful flowers in the background made everything look even better. But at this point, he wasn’t sure if this would all have a happy ending. Still not telling him that you were scared, you finally went up with him. ,,Okay, still right on time,’’ Zen mumbled to himself, noticing finally that you were pale. ,,What’s wrong, princess?’’ he asked you, concerned, and took your hand. ,,I… am terrified of falling…’’ you gasped. Zen went on his knees, knowing that this was the perfect moment to make you think of something else. ,,Hyun…’’ you gasped and nodded, immediately jumping up and yelling out of fear. Zen quickly took you in his arms and kissed you. Just like he planned, the fireworks began. ,,I will protect you now, later, tomorrow, and in the future, okay? You have nothing to fear with me,’’ he kissed you again.

Yoosung

,,Do we really need to go on that?’’ you asked Yoosung. Both of you were in Japan visiting the Tokyo Tower. However, both of you now realized that you were scared. ,,Uhm, the guide is going up so I guess we have to follow,’’ Yoosung mumbled and took your hand. ,,Let’s go through this together in good and bad times,’’ he quoted what his father said when the both of you got married seven years ago. You had to laugh at his comment, but this wasn’t the last time. Yoosung tried to distract the both of you while making jokes and being kind of dumb. That way you two actually forgot that you were really high and missed what the tour guide tried to tell you. But when the two of you arrived, you actually forgot your fears and enjoyed the wonderful view. You decided to take pictures of the view, yourself, and the two of you together. ,,At least we don’t need lessons from V, like Jumin does, to take pictures,’’ you laughed and kissed your husband. ,,We came up here together. I can’t believe it,’’ you smiled. Well, the next problem was to get back down. But this was perfectly fine since you two literally ran down.

Jaehee

,,Oh, oh! OHH I’M FALLING!!’’ you cried on the ladder, a few feet from the floor. Jaehee couldn’t help but laugh at you. ,,Not funny, Jaehee!’’ you whined and tried to hold yourself at something. Your girlfriend immediately gave you her hand and reassured you that it was going to be alright since she was by your side. Changing the light bulb was hard… When Jaehee however noticed that you began to turn pale and tremble, she helped you get down. You were really scared by now and couldn’t even move your legs. ,,Mc, I am by your side, don’t be scared…’’ she tried to calm you, now actually feeling guilty. Trying her best, Jaehee took a blanket, the cookies she had, and turned on the TV to watch a DVD from Zen. Indeed, she was able to help you and swore to herself that she would never laugh at you for being scared.

Saeyoung

Your future husband was desperate. The both of you were on the rollercoaster, but since you couldn’t be in the first row, you began to shiver, cry, and hyperventilate. By now he understood that you were scared, but he didn’t know what to do. Patting your back he pressed your face in his chest while you helplessly mumbled that you didn’t want to fall. ,,We won’t fall, Mc, I swear,’’ he tried to make you feel better. He could finally breathe again when the both of you had gotten down. However, the fear suddenly made you collapse in his arms, making him freak out even more. ,,Gosh, Mc, don’t die on me! What will I do without you?’’ he began to cry and picked you up bridal style to lie you down somewhere where you could stay alone. Saeyoung luckily always carried around some water and managed to wake you up while spilling some on your face. ,,I will get you a cookie ice cream, okay? But please don’t faint ever again, okay? Even if we fall, I will be there to catch you, like a superhero…’’

Saeran

Your boyfriend and you for once decided to walk around Seoul, the city you were now living in. You guys never used your time to see what the big capital had for you. And so, since Saeran needed a break, you guys decided to walk around today. Saeran was so eager to see everything in the city and so it was even harder to tell him that you weren’t comfortable walking up the stairs. They were just so high. Of course the view was amazing, but you weren't able to enjoy it. It got even worse when Saeran wanted to walk over a bridge. And not one of the good bridges like the Han Bridge, no. A long old wooden bridge. Saeran was already in the middle when you broke down in fear. ,,Mc? MC!“ he called you and ran all the way back, making you feel even more anxious. Hugging you and making you cry into the shoulder, he asked you about the reason for your tears. ,,What?“ he asked you when you mumbled that you were really afraid of heights. ,,Okay, I understand…“ he mumbled and picked you up bridal style. He pressed your head against him to prevent you from looking as he walked all the way down once again. ,,I will always love and support you, Mc. You're my angel…“

Jihyun

,,I don’t think I can do it, Jihyun,“ you mumbled, looking at the high place. Your puffy wedding dress moved a bit as a light wind blew across you. A swing was hanging on a very high place. The place was so high that you had to walk up a ladder and sit down on a swing from that place. The people would then let go of the swing little by little so that you would be in the air. And Jihyun planned to take a picture of you like that. ,,Didn‘t you see the picture I sent you on Instagram? It’s so beautiful! We need to do it too!“ Jihyun was excited about the hit. But suddenly your face turned pale and you just felt sick at the thought of getting a picture like that. Did he want to make you die on your wedding day? You opened your mouth but noticed that you couldn’t speak at all. Instead, a solely sob came out of your mouth and then tears. ,,Good job, the whole makeup look will be destroyed… Who makes their bride cry on her wedding day?“ Zen asked. Jihyun was totally puzzled. ,,I‘m scared of high places…“ you mumbled… Jihyun nodded and kissed you on your forehead. But since he still wanted to make a wonderful picture of you to put it in your room, he ordered them to let the swing hang only three centimeters from the ledge. Jihyun really had the eyes and hands of a photographer. He ordered Yoosung to go behind the swing and put a beautiful fabric on the swing to hide him. Then he asked Mc if she could stand on the swing while Yoosung held her. And after you agreed to it and he had his picture, he kissed and cuddled with you the whole day.

MASTERLIST 1

MASTERLIST 2

MASTERLIST 3

19.10.2020// 22:57 MEST

[annaofthenorthernlights]

It´s your life

Chapter 4 Thrill

A short drop of a sweet Kristanna surprising trip (Modern AU)

Rating for this chapter: M (some little sexual occasion for the start)

Word counting: 2070

Previous chapters (on AO3)

Note: This chapter was so much fun to write - hope you enjoy! 😊

Summary: This trip turns out to be the surprise of the century to Anna – and Kristoff´s as well… He hadn´t thought in his dreams of the outcome but plays along for Anna. Wouldn´t he do anything for her…? 😊

Anna woke up early, unusual for her – but then, she had been so excited and had swayed between waking and sleeping. There was still time to nap. So, she would snug her blankets cosily around her, ravishing in the realisation of where she was, where they were! Kristoff had turned towards her, still asleep, so relaxed, so peaceful.

Ah, he had been such a charm last night. They had cuddled and started to watch some comedy movie (yes, the pioneer-room did accommodate a TV!), but then had fallen asleep, tired from the drive and all.

Anna thought of how lucky she was and how blessed she felt to found herself with a boyfriend of such integrate and truthful character. He deserved all the best in the world. If only she could prove to be the perfect match just for that reason. At least, she could try to return her love and gratefulness the best she could. And a flick of thought crossed her mind, sending a warm feeling down her body. She knew, what good deed she could offer.

Anna huddled herself a bit closer to Kristoff, and softly kissed his cheek, all the while running a tender hand along his neck and shoulder, and down his upper arm. He had his eyes closed, but his arm would reach out and over her waist. Anna shifted herself comfortably, just to move her hand along his ribcage beneath the blanket and down to his hips. She squeezed the muscular sides of his upper thighs and then moved along to give her beloved a tender stroke along his still relaxed manhood. The young woman smiled when her man opened lazily eyes and responded with a grin, “good morning beautiful. Up to some mischief already?”

“Sorry for waking you up,” she whispered.

“No, you´re not.” He remarked drowsy, but pulled her closer, while Anna increased her massage, the result of a hardening cock within her palm pleasing her, giving her some thrills in return. She would pull at the hem band of Kristoff´s pyjama shorts to free him of the fabric, just to continue her morning greeting.

By now, Kristoff was fully awake, getting active himself. He caressed her breast, tenderly encircling her nipple with his thumb, while he moved his other hand around her neck into her hair. He leaned in to kiss her tentatively first, just to increase the pressure of his lips.

Anna loved those passionate moments, even if they couldn´t get coital as she had hoped for. But the gift of loving hands was a thrill that must be cherished just as it was. A moment of close intimacy, being there for each other. So, she happily continued her loving stroke, sensing the pulsating excitement within his hard and throbbing cock, while Kristoff caressed her breast. And it would never fail to fascinate them both that they moved in the same rhythm, like a fine-tuned duet, right up to the moment of his release. And for some even more fascinating reason, feeling his relief would send a shiver down to her centre, like she was sensing an orgasm herself.

***

When they left their room for breakfast, Anna was that excited, she nearly skipped along the way.

Kristoff decided to share her enthusiasm like a new experience. She had shown so much interest for his stuff, he could afford a day of illusional and fictive characters hopping and dancing around him, and occasionally being asked to hug an oversized bunny, bear, mouse, or even that crazy snowman, who loved hugs above all since that famous Disney movie was out a few months ago… what was it called again?

They had nearly finished their breakfast, when a man came up to their table and asked if he could talk to them for a moment. He introduced himself as Mathias, head of the artistic program. Kristoff and Anna exchanged a puzzled look, shrugging and then turning to wait for Mathias to continue. The waitress brought a coffee for the man and he would tell them his concern.

“You remember Honeymaren, your waitress last night?” They nodded.

“Well, I was glad she rang me up. You two seem the perfect couple I was desperately looking for.” Another puzzled look. Mathias would explain.

“I guess, you know that there will be a parade at midday, and then againg to bid the guests farewell before closing time early evening?” They nodded.

“Now, there is my problem. We have a scheduled cast for this part of program. There are the “active” show-people, like dancers and artists, and there are the “passive” participants, like the characters driving the carts or standing on the platforms. There is this one cart, where my scheduled couple for this weekend is prevented of attending. She had an accident and remains in the hospital till next week, while he got a call and had to leave for some family urgency. I can´t reach the other staff that´s on the list and then last night, Honeymaren called me up to have the perfect people at her table. The amazing thing is. You two don´t even need any wigs or great make up – you guys look like dropped right out of the movie.”

Another puzzled look.

“I ask you to join in for today and tomorrow. All you must do, is to sit on that sled and smile, wave to the people and act friendly with each other. If you agree, I will see to it that you get this whole weekend for free and a little honorary would be paid as well. So, what you say?”

Kristoff and Anna exchanged another bewildered look. Kristoff narrowed his eyes, while Anna´s eyes widened with excitement. He could literally read her mind… So, he just had to make sure one thing.

“And you say, we only have to sit on whatsoever and smile and wave at people?”

Mathias nodded enthusiastically, “yes – and “act friendly” with each other.”

Ah well then… Even if he had been asked, he couldn´t have thought of a better surprise for her than such a… surprise…

So, what movie would they be part of?

“Frozen”

***

He felt silly, but he wouldn´t admit it aloud, because he didn´t want to ruin it for Anna.

Gosh, she looked so pretty in that blue dress, black bodice and purple cape and ear warmers, and then those blue mittens. Genuinely like that snow queen’s princessherself!

Anna had stood mouth agape when she had spotted Kristoff. He looked stunning in that northern mountain man outfit. Simply hot!

They got seated on this oversized sledge, that would move on hidden wheels, with this gigantic reindeer placed in the front. Behind them there sat an over dimensional snowman, Olaf, grinning broadly down on them. Right before their sled there was another waggon, with a huge sort of ice castle on top of it. On its platform there stood the ice queen herself. Right now, she stood facing them, laughing, and waving, with a mischievous grin on her face. Honeymaren! She was casted for that role for the midday parade, while in the evening she worked in the Casino. Anna had bounced like a child around the Christmas tree when they got introduced to their queen.

Then the parade´s trail started to move. They were somewhere in the middle of the row, so there was still some time to observe the ongoing in front of them.

Kristoff couldn´t help but admit, that the moment was prickling with all the people cheering at them. For sure, no one would believe him. The excitement lay within the air. Anna was so happy. She beamed and giggled, bounced on her seat next to him, all close and her arm in his. She was completely lavishing in the moment of this dream. When Kristoff looked at her, he couldn´t help but smile and lay his arm around her. Mathias had said that they should act friendly with each other. No problem, he could do this. He wouldn´t care about people watching and bend down to pull her close into a passionate kiss. The public roared with cheers for the beloved princess and her ice master hero of the latest movie hit!

Little did they know that today´s celebration was recorded by TV channels because of the opening of the newest resort´s section.

****

While Elsa sat with Runeard Rendelle over the agenda of upcoming meetings, Rosa, their housemaid, came running into the library. “Miss Rendelle! Please, you must come and see!”

Rosa had put on the TV in the kitchen and had stumbled over the news of reopening Disneyland´s newest section. The parade was just on and when she had spotted some special cart, she had not trusted her eyes.

Elsa stared at the screen and meanwhile had fumbled for a chair to sit down.

It could not be. Dear God, no, that could not be. That must be some people with an outstanding masking, hairstylist or whatsoever. But when the princess smiled into the just zooming in camera, all unknowing of being filmed, Elsa recognised her sister´s smiling eyes. It hit the elder sister, that the younger looked so genuinely happy. The sight was of short durance, when the camera zoomed back in further distance and at the same time, the blond man sitting next to her bend down to kiss Anna full heartedly.

Rosa gasped aloud, exclaiming excitedly, “Oh mi, que romantico!”

Elsa still stared at the screen, then at Rosa, and back at the screen. Meanwhile the camera had taken focus on Rapunzel and Eugene, who walked happily together, hopping to the people standing close by along the alley.

“What was that?”

Elsa startled at the voice behind her and turned sharply around to see her grandfather standing in the doorway. He had followed her and had seen it all, though not understanding where and what this scene meant to be.

***

The evening before she had tried to explain to Runeard Rendelle about Anna´s whereabout without being to specific of where Kristoff had taken her. Her grandfather still disliked the idea of his granddaughter befriending a less fortunate, like this man.

He would not hear anymore of it and said that Elsa would not need to defend her sister. He would deal with her in his ways. For the time being of the dinner´s event, they would tell their guests that Anna was “mentally” absorbed and didn´t feel well, all exaggerated before exams. She would be fit to show herself to them after the turmoil of passing with merit. That, he was convinced, everyone would understand.

Now, he was just furious. He could have dealt with Anna´s silliness of running around with a good-looking young man, that treated her like a princess. But acting and dressing up like a fairy tale girl within a bunch of fantasy characters… Who did she think she was?

Elsa tried to calm him down and remark that there must for sure be some reasonable explanation.

Again, he wouldn´t hear any of it and demanded Elsa to leave him alone. He then picked up the phone and started dialling a number. Elsa was still standing there, when her grandfather motioned her with a snack of his head that she should leave the room now.

Elsa turned to go and when she closed the door behind her she just overheard him calling his friend´s name. The family solicitor.

***

The parade would take about an hour to last for the whole tour. There would still be plenty of time to explore the parc once they had peeled themselves out of the costumes in the staff sector. Honeymaren had come up to them before, apologising for her “secret attack”. Anna had laughed and joked that next time, she would bring her sister along and then, she could join Honeymaren on the cart!

Mathias had shown up, congratulating, and thanking them once more for their jumping in. Everything was arranged and they´d be handed a pay-check at the reception of their hotel.

Anna was still exaggerated with the adrenalin running through her when they moved on towards the public alleys.

Kristoff grinned and stretched, feeling a great relief for having redressed in his jeans and comfy shirt.

“So then, my princess, what´s next on your plan?”

Anna grinned up at him, flinging her arms around his neck for a brief and sheepish kiss.

“Splash Mountain!”

[eatsoaps]

Husk Sickfic

Paring (Husk x Angel)

Stomach flu/hangover 

WARNING FOR VOMIT/PTSD MENTIONS

    Sitting alone in the dim lighting of the bar served as small lonely comfort to the reluctant bartender in attendance. The day was slow with him mindlessly shuffling his cards around and nursing several bottles of alcohol while Charlie blabbed about her dreams and how to achieve them with the hotel. Now, everyone had gone to their rooms for the night except him. Zoning in and out with mindless drinking had him only a little tipsy. By two in the morning he had registered that he should probably go to bed as well….. Or just sleep on the bar. Nah, maybe not this time. Whenever he did that he was rudely awoken by Al or someone else with a scolding. He decided that he’d go to his room. 

    “Fuck!” he hissed when he finally moved. His body cracked every which way from the sudden movement, but that wasn’t the concerning part; he was hurting in his gut. It really hurt and was very sudden. He held his alcohol well and it was now he noted that the pounding headaches usually came after drinking. Trying to shake it off, he went upstairs to his room. 

    He didn’t care what room he had so long as he could drink; however the sudden twisting in his upper abdomen prevented him from wanting to dive into that random whiskey bottle. Again, trying to shake whatever the feeling was, he crawled into bed and did his best to sleep it off. It normally didn’t take long to get comfortable, hell he never even paid attention to comfort! Tossing and turning was what he was left with tonight, and boy did it puzzle him. Lying on either side gave him an annoying pressure that he couldn’t quite place, on his back only made him feel nauseous while face down just wasn’t comfortable in general and he couldn’t breathe well. Finally, he grew pissed and swung his legs over the bed holding his head in his hands. 

    “Fuck is wrong in there?” he asked himself. Softly placing a paw over his stomach he ran his claws through the fur on his head. Sitting upright made his guts flip and he let out a pathetic groan. Why was it hurting? He didn’t think he had eaten anything out of the ordinary, he didn’t remember what he ate in all honesty. He just wasn’t hungry. He took a few deep breaths and swallowed a little before lying back down on the bed. Like it did any fucking good. Another 30 minutes of rustling around in his bed he shot up like a bullet and eyed the broken trash can in the corner of the room. He looked away, remembering what a former soldier told him when he went overseas during his human life. 

‘If you think about it, it will happen.’ 

Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it. Fuck it. 

He got up and moved to one of the public restrooms down the hall; in not caring about his room, he failed to recognize that Alastor gave him the one without a bathroom. Each step had him sweating and at one point he even needed to stop and take a pause for the sake of not ruining the rug and waking everyone up. He heard a door creak open. 

FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK

He immediately straightened himself out and tried to look normal. Footsteps sounded, trying to be as soft as possible. Were those….pink slipper boots? They were, and who better to own them than Angel Dust. Now he really needed to act normal! 

“Oh, hey Kitten! What you doing here?” Angel softly purred as he caught eye. 

“Minding my own business bitch, take a lesson.” 

“Nah that don’t pay well. Wassup? You look like a shit had a shit.” 

He rolled his eyes, “Thanks.”Angel cocked his head and stared at Husk, he looked green in the white of his fur and the grey was duller. Was that sweat? “What are you doing up anyway?” 

“Well I got the day off tomorrow and I planned on stocking up on some junk food Veggie keeps hidden.” 

“Isn’t it Vaggie?” 

“Same thing.” 

“Whatever just go away.” 

Angel huffed, “You’re clearly sick though.” 

“No I’m fucking not, just mind your own fucking business for once instead of barging in and ruining everyone!” his stomach clenched which left Husk fighting every muscle in his body from grabbing it and doubling over. 

For a brief moment, Angel dropped, but picked right back up. “Come on. Let me help ya. It’s a sad sight right here, kinda funny too.” 

“Can’t you take no for an answer? I thought whores understood rejection?” 

Okay, that stung a little. “Did you drink perfume or some shit? 

“Why don’t-” Husk took a pause, his stomach was churning. It hurt and he felt the acid creep up his throat. He could swallow only so much. “-you...fuck.”

“Husk?” Angel had a soft spot for the cat, he was hot and gave him drinks! He also knew what it was like to be under an overlord. They had talked about it one night. “Hey man you good?” Angel’s voice was like water: garbled and incoherent. Husk lurched and clasped a hand over his mouth. He pushed Angel away and dashed to the bathroom. Tossing a stall door open, he crashed to the ground and began to heave. The stomach inside him contracted, but after his second unproductive heave did he finally manage to bring something up. He coughed and spat out more of whatever had caused this. He slightly jumped when he felt a soft pair of hands rub up and down his back, another set massaging his wings that tensed up every time he puked or gagged, the last set of Angel’s arms kept his ears back while rubbing the nape. He didn’t even have the energy to push him away. 

“There ya go kitten. Easy.” Angel softly soothed. Husk gagged and brought up more vomit into the toilet, coughing and sputtering. He thought his head was about to burst, the throb was so painful. Another wave of vomit, this time with tears mixing in. He spat the remainder into the bowl. 

“Ugh, fuck.” he grit his teeth and tried to even his ragged breathing. An arm draped across the toilet, one was positioned carefully on his stomach. He had forgotten what it felt like to be so sick, the last time was when he had food poisoning in a camp somewhere. He had also forgotten that this was literal HELL. In hell, everything bad was doubled. Broken leg meant worse pain and longer heal. Stabbed? Well you’d heal faster but it would still hurt like no other. And sick? Well if anyone got sick in Hell it lasted longer than it would a breathing human. Part of punishment. Husk reached up to flush the contents down and placed his head on the cool toilet lid. 

“Are you done kitten?” 

“...Yeah.” 

All that strain made Husk lethargic and apathetic. He no longer cared about what happened, that was fucking horrible. He just wanted the bad feelings gone. 

“Come on.” 

Angel helped Husk stand on his feet and had him rinse his mouth out in the sink as quickly as possible. They left the bathroom and went further down the hall. 

“Where am I going?” Husk asked. 

“My room.” 

Husk tried to push Angel away, “Why?” 

“It has a bathroom inside, your’s don’t. You also can’t spend all night in a public bathroom. Plus you can barely stand as it is. Don’t act as if Charlie wouldn’t have my head for not doing a thing.” 

Husk wanted to throw Angel onto the ground and run back to his room so he could curl up and die again alone. Nah. That wasn’t going to happen and he knew it, the muscles and energy had all gone into making him feel like shit and left him walking on a tightrope with a tilting wheel above him. When the two arrived in the room, Husk wasn’t all surprised by the look of it. A stripper pole, soft furniture, different shades of pink and black, of course a vanity covered with makeup and a shelf of sex toys. He rolled his eyes. 

“Mention this to anyone and you can kiss all the booze in the world goodbye you fucking pest.” 

“Daw~ for me only Husky? Don’t mention it. I’ll tell Cha you’re sick and too drunk to tell whose room is whose. I’ll say I tried to throw ya out but you wouldn’t budge. Sound good?” 

Husk had crawled onto Angel’s bedsheets, mmm…. warm and soft. He didn’t even reply to whatever the spider said, the sheets and mattress felt amazing, he started to purr and it was only when he caught Angel smiling down at him did he realize the situation. Shit! What the fuck am I doing? He made a sorry attempt to get out of the bed, he knew the slut would talk and he’d be humiliated. He didn’t want things to be worse than they already were. Quickly jumping off the bed made him double over in pain as a giant cramp rolled through his abdomen. 

    “Hey, watch yourself. I ain’t gonna tell anyone, I learned from Pa that snitches get ditches at five years old.” 

    “Fuck you.” 

    “Maybe when you’re better. Let’s go, come on! Back to bed kitten.” Angel guided Husk back into the bed, he noticed that his gut looked tense, he could practically see the muscles cramped up through the fur. “Jesus you’re tense.” 

    “I know. Now shut up. Why’re you even helping me dumbass?” 

    “You remind me a lot of my sis when she’d get sick. I’d always be the caretaker and she’d be mine. She’d fight me tooth and nail until I gave her something comfortable, then she’d melt like Mama’s garlic butter. Just a nice nostalgia feeling I guess. Besides, maybe you’ll owe me?” he ended with a tease of course, but after a warning glare from Husk, he backed down. “I’m kidding! Jeez! Here, just get on the bed, I’ll even rest away from ya.” 

    The bed felt amazing and warm, and it didn’t smell horrible in this room either. Angel had even been so kind as to place a bucket right next to him in case his stomach decided to abuse him again. Zoning back in, he realized that Angel had gotten into the bed and put considerable distance between them. Another cramp seized Husk’s body and he curled in harder on himself. He felt a gag coming on and groaned when he had to drag the bucket closer to his face.

    Angel glanced over at the bartender and felt a pang of sympathy. He placed a hand over Husk’s back and tried to massage the muscles that were bulging out. Thankfully they did relax as Husk threw up again into the can. He felt a lot warmer than normal? Angel had no idea what the temperature for a cat was let alone a demonic one. He could only guess it was a fever high enough to cause discomfort. After throwing up the remainder of vomit from his mouth, Husk rinsed with the warm bottle of water Angel had sitting next to him (unopened) and then plopped back down on the bed softly panting. The spider stopped rubbing his back in order to take care of the bucket; the cat needed to bite back a whimper from the loss of comfort while the cramping came back. He felt ashamed when he let pained moans come from his throat when he wrapped his paws around his middle. 

    “Think ya got a stomach bug which means you got about four days until it’s gone.” 

“Cool.” 

    “Molly liked it when I rubbed her back or stomach.”

Husk rattled as a shiver blew past him. Angel pulled the covers over his body. “Don’t fucking try anything or I’ll poison your drinks.” 

“Please, a whore may know a lot about rejection, but they know more about consent and roofies.” 

“Smartass.” 

Angel shifted to where one set of hands massaged the back and only one hand went over Husk’s stomach, the other was used to scroll through his phone. Within minutes, the cat was out like a light and purring louder than a racecar. Angel smiled and snuck a picture or eight. When he started to feel a little drowsy, he noticed that Husk had moved in a way that made it to where Angel was basically holding him sideways. CUTE! A few more pictures saved onto his phone and he was set to sleep. His rest may have only lasted an hour or two since he was woken up by Husk bolting up to vomit. The cycle was repeated until there was literally nothing in his stomach. Angel continued to rub his stomach. 

    Come morning, Husk awoke to the sound of rustling. “Fuck is that?” he mumbled. 

    “Sorry babe! Just gotta get Fat Nuggets some food and then a walk, it’ll be thirty minutes. Charlie knows about the story I told her last night.” 

    “Fuck you what did you tell her!” Husk reared up with his wings fluffed up and defensive mode on. If only he looked as threatening; truth be told it looked more like a tiny kitten was trying to roar like a lion. Angel couldn’t help but laugh. 

    “Relax, I told her you got sick last night and were too drunk to notice you were in the wrong room. I told her moving you wasn’t an option and said you tried to claw my normal eye out. She said she’d give you the next three days off and sent up some ‘get well’ shit.” he gestured over to the nightstand next to the cat. Placed on the tray was a set of medications that would barely do anything, but it was better than nothing. After vomiting all night, the waters she gave him looked amazing.

    “Hmm.” 

    “Do you wanna try to eat?” Angel asked. 

    A baby gag, “Ugh fuck that.” 

    Angel walked over and placed a hand on Husk’s forehead, almost astounded that he didn’t wack him back. “Definitely certain you got a rising fever.” 

    “In Hell, wow.” 

    “Shut up.” 

    Most of the day was nothing new. Charlie put Angel on caretaker duty (much to Vaggie’s concern) just to make things easier. Hopefully. It gave Angel bonus points, Husk got taken care of, Angel out of the way, the place would be quiet. In honesty, while Husk reminded him a lot of his sister when she was feeling down, he also wanted a chance to get closer to the cat. He was curious and also bored. Kinda wanted something to do. Being a sex worker meant that he had to care and cater to whatever the clients wanted, this time it was for something nonsexual. Sure he enjoyed sex, but it was nice to do something other than it. His day off would otherwise be spent wandering around and getting into trouble. Not looking to get chewed out was his aim. 

    “Shit babe how do you still have something inside you?” 

    “I’m not *huurk* babe you himbo.” Husk retorted with a pathetic spit. “Fuck. This is worse than when the boat was on the sea towards the battle….” 

    “Battle? What battle?” 

PTSD WAR FLASHBACK TW

    Whether it was the increased fever or what, Husk had no idea, but he had seen this many times before. Back in the war, not knowing which battle. He was instructed to shoot whatever came that wasn’t wearing US Military garb. A rustle among the trees, he turned, saw uncovered skin and lanky build. They were carrying something. A bomb? He shot at them straight in the head and they fell. Crying could be heard, but the person was dead, he went to inspect whatever was the sound and his heart dropped when he saw it was a toddler. The child ran towards him and then fell over as a fellow soldier shot them down. He turned and threw up right there, crying and praying it wasn’t real and apologizing over and over.

    PTSD WAR FLASHBACK TW OVER

“Husk, hey, it isn’t real. Whatever you seein’ ain’t real. It ain’t real right now.” 

Husk snapped his head back at Angel hyperventilating with wide eyes and then quickly bent over the fresh bucket that was being held in front of him. He gagged and spit and heaved and threw up whatever left he could. All the medicine, water, one single bite of toast was all gone; even then he still tried to bring up something until he was reduced to dry heaving. 

“Hey now, in and out. Breath in, then out. There ya go. Va bene (it’s okay in Italian).” 

It took a while, but Husk was back on track, the fever had definitely spiked and now he was experiencing shellshock again. “-ter.” 

“Huh?” 

“Wa-er.” 

His throat had been puked raw by the acid he could barely speak, but Angel managed to understand what he said and gave him an uncapped water bottle which he gratefully gulped down. 

“Hey go slow or you’ll-” the water didn’t stay in his stomach, “- puke it back up. Baby sips.” 

By the time the bucket was cleaned out, Husk was cared for and Angel got him as comfy as he could, he noticed that the cat was clingy when he was sick. Angel was the big spoon whether Husk knew or not. Belly rubs and back massages felt great after the whole ordeal. Unfortunately, he had three more PTSD episodes after that. 

***

“I gotta go to work or Val’ll have my head!” Angel sighed, trying to pull his many limbs out of the cat’s grip. 

    “No.” 

“Husk.” 

    “No.” 

Husk had reached his peak in the fever and acted like a kitten starved for attention. Angel knew sick clingy people made some of the best and worst patients depending on the situation. Eventually, the spider managed to pry the other off and set on for work where he spent the day modeling and having only one film session with a guy that loved being stepped on. He managed to avoid any conflict with the film crew and Val, so he finally left early with an abundance of praise. Quick and easy! Once he was back in the hotel, he went straight to his room where he found Husk sleeping bent over an empty bucket with fresh tear tracks along his matted fur lines. Angel gently shook him awake. 

“Rise and shine moonpie! Get your head out of the bucket.”

Husk blinked up at the spider and turned away into the blankets. “Not now.” 

“Well you can either lay your head in a horrible position that is sure to rattle yer neck to bits and pieces or you can-”

“Angel. I-....Can-” Husk was really struggling with what he was about to say next. “Can you…. rub my head a little?” he asked shyly. 

Faster than a bullet, Angel was right there getting to pet the cat, he was amazed at how soft the fur was. Of course it was to make him feel better. “Think you’re stomach wants to stay inside ya?” 

“Shh.” 

“Okay babe.” 

Husk did not throw up anymore after that night; by the time the four days were over, he pushed Angel away and got himself sorted out. He hated to admit that the spider was a good caretaker, and he would be a liar if he said he wasn’t comfy (sometimes) during the stay in Angel’s room. Once he was back working the bar, he handed Angel a free drink. 

“Here.” 

“Oh really Husk! Thank you!” 

“Shut up.” 

Angel winked at him and understood. The drink was a thank you, and he was happy to oblige. The two carried on a calmer setting around each other now. Husk still grumpy as could be, but with more sarcasm towards Angel rather than pure annoyance 100% of the time. 

Oh my Lord you can tell where I gave up trying to write good. My brain was absolutely dead. But I've noticed there's a lack of sickfics in this fandom so I'm deciding to fix that as best I can. I haven't written in a long time so I am sooooo rusty. Oh well. ❤️❤️

[smileforfelix]

ambulance

summary: in which park jisung falls off his skateboard and you're the only one to witness it

words: 1.5k

category: skater boy!jisung x fem!reader, fluff, like one curse word (if you count hell), mild injury (not described really)

a/n: this is like the first thing i’ve written that’s not a drabble so sorry if it’s literally all over the place. it’s inspired by prompt #362 from @creativepromptsforwriting​: 'They only realized they were holding hands the entire time, the moment they had to let go'. so please enjoy!

the harsh led lighting hurts your eyes as the bumpy road jostles your body around in the tiny bench on the side of the ambulance. lying in the middle of the car is a boy that you met approximately 10 minutes ago, and now you're riding with him to the hospital. it still puzzles you why you agreed to go with him when the emt asked, hell, you're still having trouble processing how he ended up in this ambulance in the first place.

. . .

earbuds blasting noah taylor (or whatever music you listen to), distracted by your instagram feed while walking home from school. consequently, the only thing you were aware of was the sidewalk beneath your feet, trying not to fall onto the concrete and hurt yourself. normally, the walk home was uneventful, despite the fact that the route home takes you through the plaza outside the strip mall in town. however, on this particular day, something happened that you would probably never forget. you see, this particular plaza has a lot of benches and fountains and stairs in it that made it difficult to walk through if you didn't know where you were going. nonetheless, after 3 years of taking the route, its safe to say that you no longer really need to pay attention to what's in front of you and just keep walking to get home as fast as possible to greet your cat. and, on this burning hot day, you were to preoccupied to see (and hear) the cute boy with the bleach blonde hair hurtling towards you on his neon orange skate board. 

fortunately for the both of you, your best friend's name popped up on your phone and you stopped to pick up the phone, preventing you from walking the foot forward that would cause you to collide with the boy. regardless, you felt the woosh of air that came with him hurtling past you, and you looked up just in time to see the boy's wheel get caught on the bench that came into his route when he swerved to avoid you, and get thrown off his board and down the short flight of stairs onto the sidewalk. 

looking around, the plaza appeared to be deserted, not unusual since it was 6:00 pm and most kids were at home eating dinner by now, and since you felt like it was kind of your fault he crashed, you hurried down the stairs to make sure he was okay. "hey, are you okay?" you ask while on your way, but no reply comes. thinking he's probably just disoriented you shrug it off, but he hasn't moved at all since he fell off his board. finally reaching him, you shake his shoulders, repeating your question. when still no response comes and he doesn't seem to be waking up or moving, you start panicking. "oh my god, uh what do i do, what do i do?" flows out of your mouth once you start panicking that maybe this, objectively very handsome, boy is not gonna wake up anytime soon, and maybe he's not okay. after all, he did fall down a flight of concrete stairs and probably hit his head somewhere at the bottom. "what's the logical move here? think (y/n), think. who do you call when someone gets hurt? ghostbusters 911!" dialing the 911, you keep your eye on the boy to make sure you know what's going on. "911, what's your emergency?" "there's this boy here, and i think he hit his head pretty hard, and he's really not moving, but there's not much blood and i really don't know what to do" you rush out to the dispatcher. "alright miss, stay calm, everything is going to be okay. can you tell me where you are?" "um yeah, yeah, i can. uh it's the, it's the shopping plaza on st. catherine, on the west side near the stairs in front of the pizza shop." "thank you miss, stay where you are and an ambulance is on it's way to you. it'll be there in about 8 minutes."

not really knowing what else to do while waiting for the ambulance to arrive, you tried shaking him one last time just to make sure he wasn't awake. upon receiving no response, you took out your phone and texted your mom, letting her know of the situation because she was supposed to be home by now. in the middle of her phone call, she heard a groan from next to her and you look over to see the boy open his eyes slowly, rubbing his forehead and looking around. "oh my god, are you okay?" "um actually, what happened?" the boy asked drowsily, still coming to his senses. "uh well, uh so you fell off your skateboard and down the stairs. i guess you hit your head pretty hard at the bottom. i was the only one here, so i called an ambulance. it should be here soon." you answered, letting him know of the situation. "oh. well thanks, i guess. uh but do you know where my board is? it's brand new and my mom is gonna kill me if i broke it." he says with newfound urgency in his voice. "i just told you you were going to get in an ambulance and your response is to make sure that your board is okay?" you exclaimed with surprise. "just stay there and don't move, i'll go get your board. it's up on the plaza." you explained. running up the stairs, you retrieve the orange board which, by some miracle, is in one piece and perfectly functioning. "thanks. what's your name by the way?" he asks. "i'm (y/n)." you reply "jisung. thanks for calling the ambulance and not just leaving me here." he adds while reaching for your left hand to shake. just as you introduce yourselves, the ear-piercing screech of the ambulance's sirens is heard and the ambulance comes into view not ten seconds later. the medics get out and hurry over to you and jisung, ensuring that he's okay and doing some preliminary exams. "it looks like we're gonna have to take you to the hospital do some more tests, just to make sure you don't have a concussion or anything else is wrong." the medic says, directing his words toward jisung. "will you be riding with us to the hospital, miss?" he asks you, raising an eyebrow. "ummm," you hesitate, but after looking at jisung and seeing the scared and pleading look on his face, you give in, deciding that since this accident is kind of your fault in the first place, you should see it through to the end. "yeah, i'll ride along with him." you stay with jisung as he's lifted in a stretcher to make sure nothing happens to his head, and sit by his side in the ambulance.

. . .

and that is how you found yourself here, in an ambulance with a stranger, not really knowing what to do next. you texted your mom the situation and how you ended up riding to the hospital as well. you remembered that you hadn't seen jisung text or call anyone, and just as you were about to ask him, you look up from you own phone to see the medics drilling the poor boy with questions, and you decide that maybe, just maybe, this isn't the right time to ask anyone anything. the bleach blond hair that covered his forehead and a little of his eyes, the cute nose scrunch he would do when the medics got too close, the brown eyes that were looking at you- wait, at you? you lock eyes and raise an eyebrow, causing his eyes to widen and his head to turn away. giggling at the boy, he was cute after all, you go back to scrolling on your phone with your right hand until the ambulance stops and you realize you were at the hospital. you get out of the ambulance alongside jisung, making eye contact with him and nodding to reassure him. "miss? i'm going to take him to his room now." the nurse said at the hospital. confused as to why she was informing you, you just nodded your head, and agreed. "i'm going to need you to let go of his hand, miss." he said, looking at you exasperated. blushing, you realize that since you and jisung have shaken hands waiting for the ambulance, you never let go. you slowly release his hand and watch as they take him down the hall to his room. turning away, you call your mom to tell her that everything is done, and ask if she can come pick you up. when she arrives, among the chaos of the emergency room, you leave the hospital thinking about the cute boy on the orange skateboard that just made a boring wednesday one of the most eventful days of your life.