#but when you start a conversation it’s common sense to not stop listening and basically start talking to someone else in the middle of it!! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

delayed-affection · 2 years

Text

Chapter ten

Back Navigation Season 3

“Dude! Come on!” Y/n shouts at Dustin

“I’m coming!” He yells running to the front door, “You can’t rush perfection.”

“I don’t know about perfection but sure.”

“I’ll have you know that I am the best looking one in the party.” He argues following you out.

She stifles a laugh and get in the car, “What about Harrington?”

“Steve doesn’t count, he’s basically an old man and he’s not in the original party.” He states slamming his door shut.

“Steve and I are the same age.”

“Exactly you guys have one foot in the grave already.” He answers looking out the window.

“You know if those monsters come back one day, I’m going to let one of them get you.” She jokes in a serious tone.

“That’s like saying It doesn’t take a photon up to 40,000 years to travel from the core of the sun to its surface, but only 8 minutes to travel the rest of the way to Earth.”

She rolls her eyes, “Okay you nerd.”

Pulling out of the driveway she starts up a new conversation.

“So are you ready for nerd camp?”

“It’s not nerd camp, it’s camp know where and it’s going to teach me more about science and technology.”

“Nerd camp.”

“Dustin!” The boys exclaim at the sight of the car.

Before Y/n can even park the car he’s jumping out of it and rushing over to large group.

“If it isn’t my favorite and least favorite Henderson.” Steve greets pushing himself off of his car.

“If it isn’t my favorite Harrington.” Y/n says getting out of the car.

“I’m the only Harrington, y/n.”

“Exactly.” She states

“You are quickly becoming my least favorite Henderson.”

“Are you saying I wasn’t your favorite?” Dustin asks slightly offended.

“Talk to me when you can do cool things with your mind.” He answers tapping the side of his head.

The sound of a loud engine makes them all fall quiet. Billy’s blue Camaro comes zooming into parking lot.

Max quickly hops out with a huff and he wastes no time leaving.

She makes her way over to the group, “Bunch of losers standing out here, come on.”

The boys follow her inside the newly built mall with their siblings following.

“Jonathan and I are going to go look at Daltons Bookstore.” Nancy announces grabbing his hand and pulling him away from the group.

The now shorten group walks further into the mall not making it too far from where they started.

“There’s an E.B.” Will squeals making them all stop “I wonder if they have Spy Hunter.”

“We gotta go.” Mike comments

“Y/n can I have some money please?” Dustin begs

“Didn’t mom give you some before we left?” She questions

“She only gave me a ten, please just a dollar or two.” He whines with pleading hands

“Only a ten.” She mocks pulling out her wallet and grabbing a five, “Meet us here or at the food court at four.”

He takes the money with a rushed thank you, Will, Mike and him take off towards the store.

“You guys aren’t going?” Steve asks Lucas and Max

The two share a look and dash off to the store.

“Looks like it’s you and me, Harrington.”

“Yo, Dustin!” Lucas calls out catching up to them, “I think Harrington has a thing for your sister.”

He quickly turns around, “Ew. No, he doesn’t, why would you say that?”

Max nods, “He didn’t want us hanging around with them.”

“He basically told us to leave.” Lucas adds

“Don’t listen to them, Dustin. They don’t know what they’re talking about.” Mike assures

“Come on think about it, he said she was his favorite.” Lucas argues

Dustin quickly looks around before answering, “Yeah because she has powers and they’re friends.”

“He dated Nancy for god’s sake. what makes you think he won’t date her?” He questions

Max hums, “Girl code says you can’t date your friends ex.”

“Girl code? what’s girl code?” Will asks

“It’s a set of rules that apply to all girls. They’re not written down or anything, it’s just like common sense.” She replies

“Look, he’s not going to date my sister and there’s no way in hell that she even likes him.” Dustin states

Something catches Max’s eye, “Isn’t that Keith?”

They all follow her gaze over to the Cheeto eating teen.

Lucas’ eyes grow wide, “We have to go.”

“What? Why?” Mike asks

“I may or may not have promised him a date with one of your sisters and that date may or may not have happened.” he quickly confesses

“You did what?” Dustin and Mike exclaim

“Look I’ll explain later but right now we have to leave.” he tells them

Steve throws an arm around Y/n’s shoulders, “You feel like ice cream?”

She goes to answer but he cuts her off, “I don’t care we’re going to get some.”

He basically drags her by her neck over to the food court, “What are you gonna get, personally I’m more of a vanilla guy.”

She chuckles, “Your choice in ice cream is as bland as your personality.”

He drags his free hand through his hair, “I have a great personality, what are you talking about?”

“What are you talking about?” She asks trying to get out of answering.

“Okay, what are you going to get then Ms Spectacular personality?”

She shrugs, “Probably cookies and cream.”

“Oh because that’s so much better than vanilla.”

“It is.” She argues, “Who wants plain vanilla ice cream?”

He puts both of his hands on his head, clearly stressing, “Your choice is vanilla ice cream with Oreos in it! You can’t be serious?”

The two of them make it to Scoops, two workers dressed in sailor uniforms greet them with an ‘Ahoy’.

They order and find a place to sit in the somewhat crowded parlor. The silence between them doesn’t last very long.

“So.” He drags, “Are you leaving for college soon?”

She shakes her head, “No, with everything that’s happened I’m not leaving until Dustin goes off to college. Are you leaving soon?”

“No, I uh…” He pauses, “I’m taking a year off from school. Might get a job, make some money of my own. Not sure on where to work though.”

“You could apply here, they’re still hiring.” She says pointing to the help wanted sign.

He shoots a quick look to the workers, “I don’t know, don’t you think the outfits are kind of dumb?”

She shrugs, “Kinda, but you, King Harrington, you’d look cute in it.”

Her saying that boosted his already inflated ego, even if she was kidding.

“Oh yeah?” He smirks “Well if I apply will you do it with me?”

“Sorry to break it to you but I already have an interview with Sam goody next door.”

He gives her a bewildered look, “What? When did you apply?”

“Yesterday.” She answers

“You were here yesterday?”

“This might surprise you Harrington but I have other friends.”

He sits back in his seat, “And I thought I was special.”

He then pushes him back towards the table, “Okay, how about a game of rock, paper, scissors? You win then you don’t apply but if I win then you have to apply with me.”

She gives it a short thought but agrees, “Alright let’s do it.”

Rock, paper, scissors. She lost.

“Best two out of three.”

Rock, paper, scissors. He lost.

Rock, paper, scissors. She lost.

“Alright Henderson I’ll be right back.”

He leaves the table and goes to the counter. She questions if she has time to run, not wanting to dress like a sailor if she were to get the job.

She runs out of time when he sits down in front of her with the applications and two pens.

He slides them towards, “Your pen and paper m’lady.”

They finish their ice creams and start on the applications. She thinks of writing down gibberish but it might be cool to work with the boy.

The two of them sit in comfortable silence, listening to those around.

The soft music playing behind the loud conversations.

Chairs scratching the floor as they move back and forth.

And Steve, who’s tapping his pen on the table after every question.

He sighs and glances at her, “Is little Henderson still going to that know it all camp?”

“Yeah, he actually leaves tomorrow. Why are you going to miss him?” She teases

“What?” He scoffs “As if, I’m happy I don’t have deal with the little shit for a while.”

She gives him a serious look, “Hey, that little shit is still my brother, asshat.”

“Sorry. But come on, me? Miss him? Let’s be serious now.”

“You don’t have to lie Harrington, I know you have a soft spot for him.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Are you done filling that out? Cause I’m done, here I’ll take it up for you.”

He hurriedly gets up, grabbing the papers and pens. She’s glad she had finished and that he didn’t rip it away while she was still writing.

He comes back and huffs “Can we go to radio shack? I need a new Walkman.”

“Why what happened to yours?” She asks getting up.

He leads her out of the scoops, “I might have… lost mine.”

“That two this year alone, Steve.”

“Okay and this will be the last one of the year.” He states but mumbles “Hopefully.”

“Well then lead the way.”

Y/n and Jonathan sit on a bench outside of the dressing rooms, watching as Nancy and Steve try on an endless amount of clothes. For the past three stores it’s been them trying on random pieces of clothes and them two shaking their heads or nodding.

Y/n checks her watch, “Okay Wheeler, Harrington, we have to go.”

“What?” He says from the fitting room.

“We can no longer watch you guys try on clothes. It’s 3:55 and we have to meet the kids on the other side of the mall.”

“Okay, okay.”

Everyone in the store can hear him flailing around in the room, trying to get out of the unwanted clothes.

Nancy throws open her curtain, “Wait, does this dress look good? I don’t know how I feel about it.”

Y/n looks over to Jonathan who’s basically drooling on himself, “Can you do a little spin?”

The two watch as she slowly spins, showing what the dress has to offer.

Y/n nods, “I like it, I think you should get it. What do you think, Jonathan?”

He blinks rapidly, trying to get his mind back on track, “Uhh.. y-yeah. Y-You should get it.”

She smiles and closes the curtain to change.

Steve eventually manages to put his clothes back on, “Okay, I’m gonna pay for these and I’ll meet you guys at the front.”

Nancy is quick to change, “Let’s get a move on people.”

They all walk their separate ways, but it doesn’t take long for them to meet at the front.

“We’re following you Henderson.”

Walking back to the food court they run into Mike.

“Why are you alone? Where’s everyone else?” Y/n asks

“I was with Dustin and Will.” Mike informs, “They should be somewhere around here, Dustin was thirsty.”

“What about Lucas and Max?” Steve asks

“Will said they went to Wicks n sticks for Max’s mom.”

They wait a bit for Dustin and Will, Will spots them first, running over leaving Dustin behind to catch up.

“Is it time to go already?” He questions

“Yeah, we just have to find the others.” Y/n answers

With more than half of the group found they make their way back.

Dustin drones on and on about what he’s going to be doing at camp.

Steve’s not able to keep up with him, so he chooses to stay quiet after having them explain one too many things to him.

Will excitedly listens to Dustin, asking questions about what he’s going to be able to do and learn.

Mike shows his interest in the conversation but keeps quiet for the most part.

Y/n’s only half listening to him, knowing that she’ll be hearing it until he leaves and all about it when he gets back.

Steve falls back and Y/n watches as his face scrunches up in confusion.

“What are you looking at Henderson?”

She squints her eyes at his hairline, “I think you’re balding.”

His hand flies up to his head, “What? No I’m not!”

“You’re not but I made you worry.”

“You’re a dick, you know that?”

She laughs, “I know.”

Nancy loops her arm with Y/ns, “Are you doing anything tomorrow?”

“No, why?”

She smiles, “How would you like to go swimsuit shopping, I saw some cute ones and I feel it would be fun with just the two of us.”

“Sounds like fun.”

“Y/n! Can I ride with you back to your place?” Max asks running up to her.

“I don’t see why not.”

“I call shotgun!” She yells dashing to her car.

“What? So not fair!” Dustin shouts running after her.

Lucas follows, “I’m coming too!”

They all race to the car, shoving one another and calling each other names.

“Well I’ll see you guys at my house.” Y/n says to others before following the bickering kids.

“Our house!” Dustin corrects

Hopper takes a deep breath and knocks on Hendersons front door, to his surprise Nancy opens it.

“Hopper? Is something wrong? Would you like to come in?” She asks

He shakes his head, “No… no. Is y/n home?”

“Yeah.” She nods, “Let me go get her.”

She leaves him at the door and goes to find her.

She finds her in the kitchen with max making pizza, “Hey, umm… Hopper wants to see you, he’s at the door.”

She quickly wipes her hands off, “okay, can you help her finishes these while I go talk to him?”

She nods and takes her place.

Hopper doesn’t even til she’s full at the door to ask his question, “Is your mom home?”

“No.”

He motions her to follow, she follows him to his truck where El stands.

El immediately runs over to her and pulls her into a hug.

He sighs, “I’ll be back to pick her up after my shift. Make sure she eats something other than Eggos. And if anything happens call me first.”

Pulling away from El she swings her arm around her shoulders, “She’ll be just fine here.”

He gets in his truck and slams the door, “And keep her away from Mike.”

She nods and lead her inside, “No promises on the Mike part.”

“You’ll never believe what Steve did, Dustin?” Will laughs

He stomps his way back into the living room, “What did you do?”

“He sold us your railroad.” Will answers high fiving Y/n.

“Why would you sell our railroad?” He exclaims sitting back down.

“They were very persuasive, I thought it was good deal.” he argues

He points a finger at his sister, “Did you use your powers on him?”

“What? No!” She replies

“How much did they give you?” He questions

“Forty five and Mediterranean Avenue.”

Lucas stifles a laugh, “That’s the lowest paid spot.”

“Rent is only ten bucks.” Mike chimes

“El’s never played and is still doing better than you.” Y/n laughs

He sighs, “This game is going to take forever.”

“Not with the way Steve is playing.” Nancy comments

Jonathan chuckles, “You guys will be the first to bankruptcy.”

“Why did I pick Steve?” He mumbles to himself

Y/n and Nancy sit in her room painting El and Max’s nails. El has yet to open up to Max, she’ll act civil but won’t actually talk to her.

Max looks over to Y/n, “So, you and Steve a thing, Y/n?”

“No, why?” she asks

“L- Lucas was just spreading rumors around and I thought I’d ask.” she sputters

“Why would he do that?” Nancy asks

“He said it’s because he thinks Steve wanted some alone time with her earlier. He then followed that up with ‘He dated Nancy what makes you think he won’t date her.” she informs

“Do you like Steve?” El chimes

“As a friend, yes.” Y/n answers

El looks up from her nails, “Like how I like Mike?”

She shakes her head, “No, the way you like Mike is different from the way I like Steve. You like Mike like the way Nancy likes Jonathan or how Max likes Lucas.”

A better example pops into her head, “You like Mike the same way you like Eggos.”

Dustin stands over Steve, beating him with a pillow, “You made my sister apply with you! You wanted alone time with her! You already spend too much time together!”

Steve tries to block the hits, “We’re friends that’s what friends do.”

Jonanthan stands in the corner of the room not wanting to get involved but the other boys are loving the live entertainment.

“Get him, Dustin!” Lucas shouts

“Should we stop him?” Will asks

Mike laughs, “No, I’ve been thinking about beating him up for a while. It’s better that is Dustin, he won’t get in much trouble.”

Dustin’s hits become harder, “Stay away from my sister, asshole!”

“Y/n!” Steve yells, “Help me!”

Dustin smacks him in the head, “Leave her out of this.”

Dustin’s door slides open and all the girls entire his room.

“Y/n! Get him away from me.” Steve pleads

“It’s a pillow, Harrington. Just take it from him.” She tells him

He huffs and grabs at the pillow, pulling it away from him. He stands up and goes to smack Dustin back.

The pillow flies out of his hands and over to Y/n, “I said take it Harrington, not hit him with it.”

Dustin stands in front of his sister, “Y/n, tell me you don’t like that asshole.”

She smacks him in the head with the pillow, “I don't like him.”

“Why did you smack me?”

“Well for one you were smacking the shit out of Steve and two... well I just wanted to.”

He yanks the pillow from her and hits her.

The pillow from his bed lands in her hands and she whacks him with it. They go back and forth, just smacking each other. Max runs out of the room and grabs all the pillows she can. She hands them out and it turns into a pillow fight, then to a hit Steve party.

14 notes · View notes

sneakyscarab · 1 year

Text

i'm back again! were you expecting my return so soon? cause i wasnt :P

nina's thoughts on Touhou 13 - Ten Desires

ok, i definitely did not expect to be writing this so soon. after the training arc of MoF and SA i think the return of real proper bombs to touhou has made me a monster. do you want to know how many runs it took me to 1cc this one? SIX! i might need to graduate to playing these games on hard difficulty… UFO to me made since cause they made getting extra lives super easy, but they cut down hard on extra lives in TD so i don't even know. i feel like i barely even know this game, but its done already.

the basic gameplay is pretty similar to UFO, minus obviously the UFOs. instead theres a new pickup system in Divine Spirits that pop out of enemies and fade away in a few seconds unless collected. there are 4 types of Divine Spirit, 2 common and 2 rare. the two rare types are Pink and Green and are pretty much just life pieces and bomb pieces with a different coat of paint, although you need a lot more than 5 of them now, starting at 8 for a full life/bomb and increasing in cost every time. the common types of spirit are Blue and Grey, blue ones increase the worth of point items, and grey ones increase your trance gauge (i think all spirits do, but grey ones do it better).

the trance gauge itself is pretty weird, when you get hit by a bullet you go into a trance which increases your damage and makes you fully invincible for up to 10 seconds depending on your gauge, and then you die when it runs out. alternatively, if your trance gauge is full, you can manually go into trance, which doesnt kill you when it runs out. its pretty much either a really strong get-out-of-spellcard-free move, or its a weird inbetween mood of "welp im dead in a few seconds, might as well see how much damage i can do"

in terms of playable characters, TD is very similar to Imperishable Night, having 4 choices with 1 moveset each, those being two seperate weapons taped together based on focusing. Reimu to nobodys surprise has homing shots and needles when focusing. Marisa has illusion lasers when focusing shoots magic missiles, although these are more like Nitori's missiles than Marisa's own. Sanae is back again but sadly doesn't get either of her cool weapons from last game, instead having a wind-based shot that goes wide normally and turns into a weird helix shape when focusing. and the 4th option is Youmu returning out of nowhere, although it makes sense given that the Netherworld is involved in this games plot. she has the weirdest weapon, with her unfocused shot being like MoF!Marisa's trailing options, and her focused shot being that you don't shoot while focusing, instead while you hold down focus you charge up a powerful sword slash that you unleash when you stop focusing. the sword charge is a really cool idea and is reminscent of how she played in PoFV, but while in that game her sword deleted bullets, it doesn't do the same here, making you feel really vulnerable. i want to like Youmu's moveset, but im just not a fan. granted, i only played as Youmu one time. i played each character once, then gave Marisa a second shot, then gave Sanae a second shot and got my 1cc. Sanae's weapon set is probably my preferred one just cause it feels like it synergizes the best, but Reimu is good too.

for the new characters, i gotta give shoutouts to the trans icon Toyosatomimi no Miko. She's the reincarnation of Prince Shoutoko, a Japanese historical figure who apparently used to be on the ¥10,000 note, who somehow ended up in Gensokyo and when coming back to life decided "i think im a girl actually". she has the ability to hear the desires (of which there are 10) of those she talks with, and is able to judge their character and motivations through them. however, shes a terrible listener when it comes to actual conversation, and frequently talks past people.

Kyouko is a pretty fun character. although she doesnt do much in this game, in external media she becomes besties with Mystia from IN and they form a punk band together, which is just amazing. if you go to one of their concerts you will almost certainly go deaf considering Kyouko's power is basically to shout things very loudly into the distance. they must get so many noise complaints.

like UFO im having trouble deciding on a third pick. Yoshika is a cool Jiang-shi with an interesting mechanic in her fight where she will summon divine spirits and then eat them to regain health, becoming basically unkillable if you don't grab the spirits before she can. Mononobe no Futo also has some fun attacks, i love how she just randomly jumps onto a boat for some of them, and her final spellcard "Saint Card 「Oomonoimi's Banquet」" is a really fun pattern to dodge, spinning in circles while avoiding the cards flying at you.

final thoughts on TD, uh… it sure is a game! i like how it uses returning characters like the netherworld duo, and Kogasa again lol. the divine spirits and trance gauge are just kinda eh, and the playable character movesets are also kinda eh. i hesitate to call it bad, but its certainly not ranking highly imo.

thanks for reading! i have no idea what the rate of these posts is going to be like, we'll have to see how i handle #14. until next time!

#grimoire of nina #touhou #touhou 13 #touhou TD #ten desires #touhou project

5 notes · View notes

fouralignments · 2 years

Note

For the “get to know your writer” ask game - 3, 13, 20, 27, 74

Describe the creative process of writing a chapter/fic

I get sparks of inspiration. I get bad dry spells as well, so it comes and goes. Often times I make little outlines on my phone with checklist features; to give me a sense where I want the conversation to go and what plot points need to be in there. From there I write, I usually like setting the scene with descrubtion to get my audience emerses. Sometime even though I have an outline, when I'm writing its more about finding where it all goes and letting it develop organicing or trusting my story of what and where it wants to go and where it wants to stop.

Sometimes, I have to step back and look at it from a different angle, for the answer to come to me, but its always been there, I just needed to find it. For example in chapter 7, I had this conversation between Peter and Sabah Nur and I need a transition between the next point because real conversation doesn't follow smoothly.

But when inspiration hits me rather that be from the podcasts that I listen to or film analysis or reading; I rework what they said and put them into the word doc. Sometimes I get ideas and have to write them down in my note section of my phone or even phrases that slip into my mind.

I go back on work on sections or move past trouble areas to work on the next point in the outline and go back and worth between them. Rinse and repeat until I feel its done. But, I have the bad habit of editing as I go and chasing rabbit holes thus increasing my chapter length. I sometimes worry that my audience will not like the length will skip over what I have wrote

Then check to see if everything makes sense. It takes me an entire day to upload, I go into word and type out the summary and whatever else is needed on ao3 and just copy/paste on there.

what’s a common writing tip that you almost always follow?

(It should be noted that I have never EVER taken a creative writing course at the university level) Sometimes your writing has to catch up to your artistic eye.

It has three level:

1: you gotta get your basics down for technical wise like your sentence structure, word choice, using the correct punction etc. Like you gotta know the rules, before you know when break them and bend them when it comes to creative writing.

2: This is best summed up by Glenn Hetrick in the tv show Face Off said multiple. You need to have a reference library of shows, tropes, to see what came before and build on top of it. Understand why tropes, different readings of a show of movie, work the way that they do. Sometimes its better to watch and observe and analysis what went wrong on terrible show than a good one. Just engaging with the text

3: Read shit. Read on topics that you don't know about. Read think pieces.

I took classes on women studies, did survey course on the middle east, read 18 books on semester ranging from populism, poverty, 1954 Guatemalan coup d'état and 28 Mordad coup d'état. First you get exposed to ideas that can inspire you and depending on what your reading word choice, sentence length, I could go on. It helped me greatly better than my previous university did in teaching me how to write. I also started re-reading more writing how to books that I bought sometime back and took their advice seriously. This. helped me develop the language I needed to describe what was in my head. Also the power of the semicolon, run-on sentences I fear you no more!

I have to tell that I use to SUCK at writing, but in the process of having to write short essays and even a couple research papers per semester. It forced me to get better. Really get things down. The professors took the time to tell what I did wrong in papers.

Have you noticed any patterns in your fics? Words/expressions that appear a lot, themes, common settings, etc?

DOMESTIC SHIT

Its been pointed out to me that I write vulnerable moments between the characters rather that be between Erik and Peter, or Erik and Charles, or Peter and Sabah Nur.

What do you mean its not political?

Lots of food porn.

DADS

father-son relationships

For Erik:

I try my best to highlight his Jewish background and even in stories where it isn't apparent.

He does metal art like mystical menagerie of Ziz and leviathan, that do make an appearance in some of my fics.

Give my protective Dadneto any day; he's just so vulnerable around his son. He often sees his mother's eyes in Pietro.

Only Erik calls Peter, Pietro

His beard is called fuzzy. I find Fassy's veiny arms sexy and attractive.

He's very witty and sarcastic, but very worldly.

SHARKS

Yeah yes, Charles swimming with Erik in Shark form!

His singing and breadmaking, just him cooking is described as soulful. As a ritual for both himself and Pietro to help with establishing routine they sing Modeh Ani and Elohai Neshamah for the morning or blessings over food.

For Charles:

I've called his hair fluffy and feather-like mane many of times. He's associated with lavender, which is medicinal as he wants to heal both Erik and Peter but its also calming; also with pastel, lighter grays. His hands are soft and scholarly; I play up that aspect of his character. Shortbread and tea. I associate him with the spring, wildflowers, gardening.

Balancing out Erik in the parenting department. He's very motherly.

For Peter:

I associate him with hummingbirds. When describing his hair I often look up different slivery elements; I was very pleased with the tolkin reference in my Assassin Creed one-shot with Mithril.

Often described using celestial bodies and space, and metals.

He's neurodivergent and he flourishes under a patient teacher like Charles. He is very caring and kind, but suffers badly from self doubt and self esteem issues, a common problem in my fics. However, he doesn't think through things, but he's smart no dumb Peter here. He's trying to figure himself out and who he is.

For En Sabah Nur:

I've tired to my best to ignore or even re-imagine how Sabah Nur looks, so I focus on his eyes because Oscar Isaac has gorgeous eyes. For the character since he compesned with his eyes, voice and hands; I think why a lot of people didn't realize it was him was becuase in post ESN had to be dupped he really changed his voice for the role making it sound old.

I based much of his mannerism off of Oscar Isaac and if you see like him with Pedro Pascal or behind the scenes photos the dude gives good hugs and physical affection.

I also have given the nickname of En Sabah Nur giver of good compliments. Those are his two love languages that he primary uses.

I tired highlighting the milky prophet eyes. layered of his voice

Though surprisingly, I don't write the bite down on his lower lip tick that he has.

Though that may change in the future for the human less blue version in the future.

I am also giving him a fucking hobby, have it planned out, but he enjoy pottery. It turns out that yeah um Ancient Egyptians had pottery wheels. He also has an architect eye. With his powers it would probably help knowing material engineering, metallurgy, and chemistry.

What is your most and least favorite part of writing?

My least favorite part of writing is the first draft and actually getting over the hump of writing enough where I all I want to do is finish it and write glore.

When I am in the zone and the words flow through I feel like I can write for days; I stay up till 1 to 2 o'clock in the morning just being in that moment, while listening to ambient music that helps me get there.

You’ve posted a fic anonymously. How would someone be able to guess that you’d written it?

My descriptive language and just how I write the characters, its very disincentive. See answer above.

#ask4align #ask four alignments #long ass reply

2 notes · View notes

zardasolamar · 3 months

Text

Alright let's do this!

My main oc is Zarda! His proper name in his native tongue is Zandragora Gurrolf Sulmakir, but in common he's Zarda Solamar.

He's a small man, barely reaching four feet tall and maybe a bit over a hundred pounds undressed. He has a very petite build, but because of his work, is solidly built. His face is incredibly soft and effeminate.

He has several small pale freckles, they are relatively spaced out though they condense across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. His skin is pale, which fits his snow white hair very well.

He keeps his hair shoulder length, though because of his fluffy it is and because he prefers to keep it in a fluffy mop on top of his head, it rarely touches his shoulders, though it covers his eyes if he doesn't move it out of the way.

His eyes, when they're seen from behind his hair, are an incredibly deep shade of bright blue, like sapphires, they start dark around his iris and grow lighter as they near the edge of his sclera.

Zarda prefers to wear rather form fitting clothes, tight shirts and tight pants or leggings, but over the top he is always seen in large hand knit sweaters, and frequently in scarves. He typically dresses in dark colors, and reds. However, he always hides a pop of color somewhere on him, typically bright blue or lilac purple. Normally he uses pins or feathers for the colorful accessory.

He rarely wears jewelery, though he does have a small nose ring, a pair of gold stud earrings, and a set of nipple piercings which he hides with the sweaters.

He has two sets if noticeable scars on his body, deep ugly scars on his hips that look like he was grabbed by something with extreme force. They are noticeably indented, and the scar tissue is soft and pink, as if the wounds had been inflicted a very short time ago. On each side of his hips, there are four of these scars, and if someone looks at the inside of his thighs, up in the joint there is a fifth scar on each side, smaller, but no less disturbing to look at.

Zarda is a very shy and quiet person, though if you talk to him he will eagerly listen, he loves being the fly on the wall, finding it easier to enjoy a conversation between others, instead of joining in himself.

However, despite that, he is an overwhelmingly kind person, and if you get him to open up he will quickly show that he blossoms into a social butterfly around the right people. A great sense of humor, a wide contagious smile, and a heart filled to bursting with love to share.

He doesn't enjoy loud noises or angry tones, easily shutting down verbally when anyone raises their voice. It's easy to cause him to cry, and when he does begin to cry it's hard to stop him, as he spirals easily.

In medieval settings, Zarda is a young blacksmith, incredibly well skilled. He's an expert in basic smithing, nails, horseshoes and the like, though his weapons and armor are easily on par with almost any competition. His true mastery is jewelry making. He can often be seen in his open air smithy gently hammering gold or silver into intricate works of wearable art. He seems to have an unnatural resistance to heat, barely sweating infront of a raging forge, and easily able to hold metal most would leave to sit for several more minutes. His arms are commonly coated in soot up to his elbows.

In modern settings, he is an aspiring historian, following in the footsteps laid by his mother and sister. He has a fascination for all things medieval, though unfortunately he commonly gets lost in his own head, daydreaming so frequently that he doesn't tend to truly enjoy himself. He is an engine head as well, loving all things piston and rod. His prize possession is a hand customized 1957 Chevy Bel Air, plum purple with gold chrome and black soft top. The interior is the same color scheme. He has fine tuned the engine for years, and made several dramatic alterations, such as a fluid suspension system, intricate sound system, and magnetic brakes.

In Sci-fi settings, I don't really know! I've only used him in a couple of Sci-fi settings, and each time the rp ended before I was able to truly flesh him out sadly... I do know however that he would be a psyker in a 40k setting!

Zarda can be either a normal human, as detailed above, a nekomimi style person with the ears and tail or an arctic fox, or a full anthro arctic fox!

As a fox (or for the neko style his fox traits) are relatively simple, but I adore them anyways.

His fur is snow white, with small black dots covering his whole body like freckles (they also follow his rules for freckles! So they get more dense across his cheeks and the bridge of his muzzle!) He has black socks, up to his knees and elbows, however in truth it's simply years and years of soot or black dye, as he adores how it looks on his fur. The tip of his muzzle, ears and tail are also stained in the same way!

He does have some unique traits in settings with magic, such as small patches of incredibly fine slightly iridescent white scales with a silvered edge around his neck under his fur, and in his joints the scales are a deeper wine red shade. He doesn't talk about these, and only allows very close people to know that they exist. This is because he's actually a half dragon!

His father, Galdrak (#worstdad) abandoned his mother before Zarda was born, and in most settings he doesn't even know, which explains why frequently he has no idea that his heat resistance is because of his father, and why he doesn't know that if he gets angry enough, there's a chance that he could black out and his body would act on instinct, attacking whatever angered him, and even managing to emit small bursts of fire breath. Unlike an actual dragon, his flames come out much closer to a blowtorch. A short but insanely intense burst of focused flame that could melt straight through steel with no worries.

Unfortunately, if this happens it does burn him quite badly, singeing off his whiskers, curling and burning the fur of his muzzle, and giving him severe burns in his mouth which make speech incredibly painful, and eating or drinking next to impossible for several days.

As for general storylines, no matter the setting Zarda is always trying to make as many friends as possible while trying to help as many people as possible! He does have a short story I've been trying to write for several years now about him starting his organization called The House of The Yellow Sun, a place where all people are welcome and any help can be provided

#ocs #oc lore #roleplay #oc rp

1 note · View note

ambitionsource · 1 year

Text

AMBITION “Through the Valley of the Shadow of Death” [ 4.10 ]♮PART 2, half 1

INT. L.A. APARTMENT - NIGHT

Farkle and Isa have returned to one of their tried and true pastimes, watching a movie together. Also true to their word, it’s impressive how swiftly they’ve fallen back into certain levels of comfort -- they’re sitting shoulder-to-shoulder on the couch and sharing a blanket, Isa half-resting on Farkle’s upper arm like a bony pillow. They exchange light commentary as the film goes on, because it would be against their nature not to.

In a new form of nature, Isa can’t seem to stop losing focus on the movie. They can follow it enough to keep up the conversation, but they find their gaze keeps drifting elsewhere… right now, it’s landed on Farkle’s hand, resting on his thigh right there in front of them.

They could take it. There’s nothing stopping them from pulling their hand out from under the blanket and putting it in Farkle’s, linking their fingers together. It’s a surreal thought, having this much access so suddenly again, when they’ve spent so many months thousands of miles apart. The only thing stopping them is themselves.

And is it, really?

Before Isa can go down that rabbit hole, they’re spared with a different distraction. Their phone buzzes with a text. They pick it up and grow uncertain when they see Zachary’s name, then compulsively open the thread to read what he had to say.

Farkle picks up on their shift in demeanor. He pauses the movie, sitting upright.

Farkle: Everything okay? Isa: Huh? Oh, uh -- yeah. It’s just Zachary. Farkle: What did he say? Isa: They figured out who leaked it. Our connection. It was someone from Milo’s school. Farkle: Oh. Well, now that you say it, I guess that makes sense. Schools are big and leaky places. It’s honestly remarkable more shit didn’t get around Adams -- and that’s including the fact that we had a stupid Confessions page for a year. Isa: He’s wondering if I’d be willing to come back and talk things through. Now that they know.

Well, that’s good. Isn’t it? Farkle figures that’s a great sign. Isa seems less convinced, and their silence speaks for them.

Farkle: You’re not sure? You don’t want to go back? Isa: No. No, I mean, I do. I want things to work out, but --

But won’t this just happen again? Inevitably? Isa has a knack for ruining things. It’s basically in their blood. How many more times can they get their hopes up, thinking that this time will be different, only to ruin it all over again?

Farkle: Isa, this wasn’t your fault. It had nothing to do with you. Isa: No, actually, it does. Everyone keeps saying that, but they’re wrong. What is the common denominator here? Me. It’s me at the center of the scandal; it’s me who can’t socialize right or defuse any situation. Farkle: You’re not responsible for how people choose to perceive you. Especially when it’s willfully -- Isa: It’s me that the tabloids will eat up any bait about, including from petty exes, because I’m the easy target. It basically writes itself. I don’t want to put anyone else through that again. Not the MacNamaras. Not Zachary. I don’t need to add any more victims to my knack for destruction.

Besides, these last couple days have been fun. Nice. Comfortable. They want to keep enjoying that while it lasts. Farkle starts to argue, but Isa shuts down the conversation. They claim they’re tired and going to head to bed, but they thank Farkle for the movie and the company.

Reluctantly, Farkle lets them go. No sense in debate if they’re not willing to listen. Not now. Farkle says goodnight and watches them head back to his room, leaving him alone in the glow of the TV. He hates that Isa feels that way. That they’ve internalized so much unnecessary shame. It’s all unfair, and there’s nothing he can do about it.

Well, maybe not quite. Struck with an idea, Farkle picks up his phone and steps into Maya’s room for a bit of privacy, shutting the door.

INT. L.A. APARTMENT - MAYA’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Farkle dials a number he swore he wouldn’t be calling again, pacing the floor while he waits for it to go through. At least this time, he has a good reason. He doesn’t let himself chicken out, steeling his resolve.

INT. NELSON ESTATE - JORDAN’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

JORDAN NELSON looks at his buzzing phone, unable to hold back a smug smirk when he sees who it is. He knew he couldn’t hold out on him. He figured his display at the festival would be a fluke.

After letting it ring just to draw it out a bit, Jordan picks up.

Jordan: Well, Minkus, have to say. I didn’t expect you to last that long, but this is quicker than even I anticipated.

INT. L.A. APARTMENT - MAYA’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Ugh. Now that the lovesick spell has worn off, Farkle can’t help but be turned off by the obvious arrogance in Jordan’s tone. Only days ago he wouldn’t have noticed… infatuation is a funny thing.

Right now, he doesn’t want to hear it. He cuts right to the chase.

Farkle: I’m not calling for you. Don’t flatter yourself. Jordan: [ with amusement ] Then why else would you be -- Farkle: You have a good time talking to the tabloids? I’m sure they just hung on your every word while you fed them garbage.

Jordan’s amusement is gone in a flash. And he hesitates a second too long, betraying his guilt, which is all Farkle needs. He wasn’t expecting to be caught. His denial is uncharacteristically meek.

Jordan: I don’t know what -- Farkle: Nelson, save us both the time. You know I’m the better actor. I’m not gonna buy your bullshit.

So why the hell did he call? Before Jordan can find a way to turn the tables, Farkle powers through, channeling the feral edge he hasn’t harnessed in months.

Farkle: If you want to be petty and take your anger out on me, fine. Do that. Feed the press as many smear stories about me as you want -- only no one will care, because like you said, no one gives a shit about me. I’m a nothing. But leave Isa alone. They’re not your personal cash grab vendetta. Drop one more word about them, I mean even a whisper, and you’ll regret it. Jordan: Oh yeah? Now you’re all feisty. Or what, Minkus? What are you gonna do about it? Farkle: For starters, lawyer up. You think the Hollywood firms are sharks? You haven’t met my family’s team. And believe me, they’d just love to dig their teeth into a defamation suit. It’s been a while since someone thought it wise to try and slander my family.

And if that doesn’t work, isn’t enough of a threat, he should rest assured -- Farkle will find something. His family has resources, and Farkle is nothing if not single-minded.

Farkle: Given how you treated me, I have no doubt I’m far from the first person you crossed. Or used. Or paid off. If you keep harassing Isa, trust me, I will find them. And I will not rest until you’re just as exposed.

He may not fight for himself so fiercely, but coming for his people is the biggest mistake you can make. He worked hard to earn them, and he will do anything to protect them.

Jordan isn’t impressed, but he has been pretty thoroughly dissuaded from messing around any further. After a certain point, it’s just not worth the extra stress.

But he does insist on getting the last word.

Jordan: Just tell me this, Minkus. You’re really gonna grill me this hard over your shitty friend, two days after our breakup, and still act like there was never anything there? That I wasn’t dead on for being suspicious?

That what he had with Isa wasn’t exactly platonic? Farkle grits his teeth, fuming over Jordan thinking he has any right to criticize him…

But he can’t deny it. Not convincingly. Instead, he closes the chapter without an answer.

Farkle: Goodbye, Jordan.

Then he hangs up, ending it for good.

INT. HOSPITAL - HALLWAY - NIGHT

Riley makes her way through the halls in a rush, rehearsal bag slung over her shoulder. With her hair and makeup still done, it’s clear she must’ve come straight from NYU as soon as the curtain closed.

It doesn’t take her long to find Lucas.

It must not be a high-traffic hallway they’re in, because he and Asher haven’t moved. They’re exactly where they collapsed before, only having adjusted so that Asher is sitting against the wall next to him. Lucas has worn himself out, slouched with his head resting against Asher’s shoulder.

Riley slows to halt at the sight, Asher glancing up when he sees her approach. He offers her a weak, bittersweet smile.

Asher: He’s resting. That’s something.

What a dull silver lining. But you take what you can get in times like these. Riley huffs out a thin laugh even though nothing is remotely funny.

Quietly, they change the guard, Riley kneeling down while Asher gently scoots out from under Lucas. Naturally, this causes him to stir, but Riley swoops in to take Asher’s place before they can disturb him too deeply. Asher holds his breath.

Lucas: Riley? Riley: Hi. Yeah, it’s me. Go back to sleep.

She guides him close again, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. Lucas doesn’t put up much resistance, melting into the embrace and dropping his head against her chest.

She gives Asher a silent thumbs up, indicating she’s got it and he’s good to go. He nods in agreement, reaching for his bag and slinging it back over his shoulder as he gets to his feet. Riley mouths a thank you at him and he waves it off -- they all know why they’re here. No thank yous necessary. Each of them would do it in a heartbeat.

They can only hope Lucas realizes that.

As Asher quietly makes his exit, Riley shifts her attention back to Lucas, effortlessly settling back into the trenches. She encourages him to rest more fully against her, supporting his weight, softly stroking his hair and placing a kiss onto the top of his head.

EXT. MOTOR BOAT - DAY

Heather is seated with her things on a sleek, silver motor boat, looking drained and hollow. A couple other girls from the retreat have joined her, apparently having decided this opportunity isn’t worth the hoops or harsh reality.

The camera eases back as the motor boat takes off, headed away from the girl group yacht to shore. On the deck of the yacht, the crowd of remaining girls watches them go…

EXT. YACHT - UPPER DECK - DAY

Yindra amongst them. So much for a guaranteed ally in the madness.

Kimmy: This is so sad. I liked them. Tabitha: Are you kidding? Three less competitors. Who else wants to jump overboard? Sloane: It’s tempting, but I’m thinking more of a push… Madysin: How much do you think one of those boats costs? I would love to be able to jet off into the sea whenever I want. It’s on my wishlist once those first checks start rolling in.

The range on this yacht is astronomical… the girls start to head back inside. Yindra is one of the last to go, steeling herself for a rough remaining handful of hours as she walks back to the doors on her own.

Maya, pre-lap: What do you mean you’re leaving?

INT. MALIBU LAKE HOUSE - DAY

Melissa is waiting for her Uber to arrive, all of her weekend luggage gathered by the door. Maya and Justin are both in the entryway with her, the former more concerned about her sudden departure than the latter.

Maya: We just got rolling with those new tracks. You can’t go now. Melissa: I’m so sorry, babe, but it’s a family emergency. Believe me, if it were any other thing, I’d put it aside for this. Justin: She means it, too. One time, we were doing so well on a songwriting session, Melissa skipped out on her brother’s wedding to finish the track. Bro was not happy about that one. Melissa: But Justin is gonna be here, and besides, you hardly need us anyway. You’ll make it slamming, you always do.

Justin agrees, promising Maya they’ll walk away from this retreat with something big. He throws an arm around her shoulders.

Justin: I’ve got you. I’ll take good care of you, on my honor.

Well, suppose that’ll have to do. Melissa’s car arrives. She tells them she can’t wait to hear what they come up with -- and they better come to her office first thing to share.

Maya: Will do.

Maya does her best to hide her disappointment, like she’s not losing half her validation as Melissa heads out the door.

INT. HOSPITAL - WAITING AREA - DAY

That afternoon, it’s not Jack, but SHAWN HUNTER who swings by to visit. Before Lucas can question what he’s doing there, Shawn raises a preemptive hand.

Shawn: No questions. No “aw, shucks” surprise or telling me I don’t need to be here. I’ve heard it all before, because I was you first. Let’s skip over that part.

Hurts to be so predictable. Shawn says he’s starving, and that Lucas better be too. Because they’re grabbing lunch, right now.

Lucas: Cafeteria sucks. Just so you know. Shawn: Oh, we’re not eating in this dump. [ to the desk attendant ] No offense.

No, Shawn has other plans. They’re getting out of here for a minute. They’re going away, getting Lucas some much needed space and out of this cold, septic building.

INT. YACHT - MAIN FLOOR - DAY

Equally thrilling developments await the girls on the retreat, as they start the morning by being informed that they’ll be left alone for this final day of the trip. That’s right -- no producers, no executives, no more consultants.

Ronica: Thank fuck.

Instead, they’re letting them make their own decisions for the day… mostly. There’s still the cameras around, of course, and they do have an assignment they’ll be working on for the final presentation tomorrow. As the producers explain, they’ll be self-sorting into two smaller groups, where they’re to collaborate on a performance routine entirely on their own. Music, harmonies, choreography, all of it -- that’s up to them, and all in their hands. A way to flex their group muscles, explore how they best fit into the big picture, discover their own strengths… and see who has natural leadership.

Once they create their presentations, they’ll come back together as a full group to perform the routines for one another and give each other constructive feedback -- a crucial part of any group chemistry. Then, tomorrow morning before the retreat ends, each group will perform them as their final audition. So it’s a chance to organically bond, in theory, while still being competitive and chock full of opportunities to make an impression -- for better or for worse.

Yindra isn’t sure, as the adults in the room head out, whether she’s glad they’re leaving or not.

EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - DAY

To Shawn’s credit, he was absolutely right about going outside. Just being in the fresh air, walking through Central Park, seems to bring some color back to Lucas’s cheeks. It’s a bit easier to breathe. He has more of an appetite too, actually eating the food Shawn got him as they walk through the park.

Shawn: Look, I get it. Like I said, I’ve been in your shoes. I mean, mine were cheaper because I didn’t have the guts to steal ‘em at eighteen, but you get what I mean.

He’s gone through this whole thing himself -- sitting around waiting for his shitty pops to kick the bucket. It’s not a fun time. All he wanted to do the entire time was run away.

Lucas: Jack said he tries not to dwell on it. Be negative, and shit. That it was complicated, but he tries to… give grace, or whatever. Shawn: Ha! Of course he does. That’s Jack for you. Why do you think he’s the dignified principal-turned-school-board-member, and I’m the dropout who had to borrow a job from him?

Suffice to say, Jack has always been better about compartmentalizing his feelings about things. But it’s not always that easy. Not everyone is Jack Hunter. He means well, with his sage advice, but that doesn’t mean it’s as simple as following it.

Shawn: Besides, it was easier for him. That’s not to discount his experience or anything, but he didn’t live with our dad the way I did. He left him and his mom when he was still in middle school -- I got a lot more of his bullshittery, a lot more of the time.

No, he wasn’t as bad as Kenneth, since he never physically laid a finger on him. But he was still a piece of shit, and that still left wounds. Some he’s still healing from to this day.

Lucas: So what, exactly? Jack’s full of shit? Shawn: No. The “so what” is that I’m trying to tell you, it’s okay that this sucks. That it fucking sucks, and there’s no “good grace” to give it. That’s real. It sucks, and he sucks, and just because he’s dying doesn’t mean you have to set all that aside or pretend it didn’t happen. That it’s not complicated or fucked up. People do this thing when people die, where it’s like history gets rewritten. And suddenly, we’re only supposed to remember the good things, because confronting the truth is too… hard. Too bitter. But that’s bullshit.

So Lucas doesn’t have to feel bad for Kenneth. He doesn’t have to feel anything, just because it feels like he should. All Shawn wants to do is make sure that Lucas gets that it’s okay for it to all feel turned upside down.

Shawn: And you’ll grow through it. I swear to God, you will. Not immediately, and not all at once. But you will. [ patting his shoulder ] Get through the right now. Then worry about the rest.

A different perspective than what he’s heard so far, but not unwelcome. And yeah, it’s nice to hear someone say he’s allowed to have his ugly feelings along with the complex ones, even if he’s not sure which ones are the true root of how he feels.

Grief, universal as it may be, is about as varied an emotion as they come.

EXT. BEACH - DAY

That’s a sentiment Isa is all too familiar with, that they’re feeling a bit of themselves as they walk along the sand. They’ve returned to the same beach they visited in 213, the small hideaway of a strip that was one of Valerie’s favorites.

Just like last time, Farkle is with them, trailing along behind as they pace along the water’s edge. It’s peaceful, neither of them feeling as though they need to fill the silence. Given how hectic the last week or so has been in Isa’s world, the sense of privacy and peace is more than welcome.

Isa: For all her faults, can’t say my mom didn’t know how to find a sacred spot. Ironic for someone who was so addicted to the spotlight. Farkle: The woman was an island unto herself.

Hear, hear. Isa approaches the water and crouches down, letting the sea foam soak their hand. Farkle comes to join, kneeling down in the sand.

Isa: Do you think she’s still out there? How long would it have taken for the ocean to send her ashes away? Maybe she’s like, all the way in… Vietnam, by now. Or New Zealand. Farkle, theatrically: She’s always out there, as the ones who love us never really leave us -- Isa: Ugh. Wah, wah. I get it, Dead Poets Society, thanks for the therapy truism.

Farkle grins. After a moment, he states he should take advantage of the water while he has it, scooping up some and scrubbing at his face.

Isa: What are you doing? Farkle: When you gave me that little Eurotrash birth mark yesterday, you must’ve used a fucking Sharpie. I’ve been scrubbing at it all morning and it still won’t come off. Maybe the salt water will corrode it away. Isa: Either that, or you’re just rubbing my dead mom’s ashes all over your face.

Okay, really pleasant! Thanks, Isa! Farkle gags lightly, causing them to burst out laughing. Then they feign support, telling him to turn towards them so they can get a look for themselves. Farkle does so, letting Isa take his face in their hands and caress his cheek as they gently tilt his head to get a good look.

The view is quite nice so up close like this, but honestly, Isa has already forgotten what they were supposed to be looking for. What were they talking about? How the hell does this keep happening?

At the risk of losing absolutely all their brain power, Isa creates a different diversion -- they sweep their arm down and splash a big amount of salt water onto Farkle’s face when the next wave crests the shore, causing him to gasp and sputter as he falls out of their grasp onto the sand.

Isa: There. Think I got it.

Farkle coughs up a bit of salt water, then shoots Isa a glare.

Farkle: You’re so dead.

Hey, no dead jokes on dead mom beach! But too late. Isa scrambles to their feet and takes off at a run just as Farkle launches up after them, chasing them down the beach.

Neither of them are athletes, and running on sand is hard as it is, but it was inevitable Farkle was going to catch them. His legs are about twice the length of Isa’s.

Isa: How are you running this fast?! You failed fitness week -- !

Farkle ignores the taunt and rams into Isa, colliding with them and sending both of them down onto the sand. Isa cackles, catching their breath as Farkle collapses half on top of them and falls into a fit of giggles of his own. He sits up on his elbow, doing Isa the favor of brushing some hair and stray sand out of their face.

And there they go again. Somehow, they keep ending up this close. Like cosmic interference. Or maybe defiance, since every logical bone in Isa’s body is telling them not to play into their own delusions.

They’re just friends. Farkle’s newly single. They’re reading too much into everything. It’s dangerous to read into it, not to mention stupid.

And yet, how can Farkle manage to look at them like that, the way he is now, and not have it be worth spending the rest of their life reading?

For a fleeting moment, Isa thinks about breaking convention. They think about acting without thinking, of choosing the dumb move, and acting on the feelings they’ve been pushing down since last year. Farkle’s right there, with his electric blue eyes and face so close to theirs -- truly, what’s stopping them? Why the hell not?

In this case, reality. After a moment, Farkle clears his throat and sits up, giving Isa back their space as he plops down onto the sand next to them. Abruptly ending the moment, whatever it is -- if it was anything at all.

It’s for the best. Isa is losing their mind, seriously.

At least with some separation, it’s easier to breathe again. Isa sits up as well and brushes the sand off their legs, flicking some onto Farkle next to them for good measure. It’s his fault they ended up on the ground after all. For a minute, they soak up the peace again, watching the waves ebb and flow into shore and listening to their melodic crash.

Farkle: Do you think she ever brought Zachary here?

Isa is startled by the question at first. But once the initial shock wears off, and the ocean soothes their nerves, they shrug.

Isa: No idea. If she did, she never told me. Farkle: Seems like the kind of place he’d like. Secluded, private. Kind of antithetical to everything else about her. Isa: I guess. Maybe that’s why she found it -- so she could prove to him she was capable of holding peace.

Look how well that turned out… and now it’s Isa sitting on the beach with someone they love, hiding from everything and everyone else.

Farkle: I was just thinking, with Zachary… Isa: I could tell. You’re not very subtle at segues. Farkle: I think you should talk to him. Give him a chance to talk things through.

Isa sighs, propping their elbows on their knees and hiding their head in their hands.

Isa: And you’re the expert on communication now? Farkle: No, I’m not. Far from it. But that’s kind of exactly why I think so. Being here, you know -- [ looking out to the water ] Last time you brought me here, it was right after my attempt. And I’ve grown from that, obviously, but I still remember how that time felt. Vividly. I don’t know that I’ll ever really forget it, or that it can ever go away. I’m always going to carry it with me. And one of the biggest things that stuck out to me, that I still think about, is what it would’ve been like to leave so many things unsaid. To cut all these relationships I had short so unceremoniously. No possible resolution; no closure. When I think about it, and all the people I would’ve left on the other side… I feel like that’s the worst thing I could’ve ever done.

Maya is an obvious example, given how they were before his attempt. But it goes for everyone. He thinks about that a lot more now, about the way he leaves conversations with people.

Isa: Is there something you’re trying to tell me? Farkle: I’m not on the knife’s edge again, no. But my point is, I wouldn’t want to leave all the important stuff left unsaid. I try not to take that for granted anymore. The fact is, by choice or not, we don’t know when you might lose your chance to find your closure. None of us know when time’s up -- Valerie sure didn’t.

Isa closes their eyes, letting that one sink in.

Farkle: I’m not going to tell you what to do. And you know that no matter what, I’ve got your back on this. I’m just saying, like… is this how you’d want your last conversation with Zachary to have gone? When you finally got him in your life at all? Think you and I both know better than anyone else how much worse it can be to avoid communication.

True enough… maybe even now. Isa takes his point, contemplating it as they open their eyes and gaze out towards the ocean again. As the waves roll in and crash into the shore…

INT. YACHT - MAIN FLOOR - DAY

Out on the actual sea, the girls have begun their big project. They’ve finally been left alone and are now self-selecting, dividing up into their two groups.

Naturally, Tabitha has taken control of one group, loudly dictating what she thinks they should do for their number and eagerly -- but bossily -- throwing out ideas. Madysin has joined her as her right-hand man, both of them running roughshod over anyone else who has elected to join their grouping with bubbly enthusiasm.

Yindra seems reluctant to throw her lot in there… but on the flip side, Ronica has taken up residence in the other group, with Aleena and a couple others. While she may be more agreeable to work with, she’s the closest in vocal competition to Yindra. They’re basically occupying the same potential role in the group -- she can’t deny that. If she works with that group, she’ll avoid the teenage drama queens, but she might be risking being redundant.

Like Nigel said, she needs to seize her chance to stand out. It might be the only one she has left.

So Yindra bites the bullet and sidles over to join Tabitha, self-assigning herself to their group. They welcome her happily, Tabitha claiming she’ll easily boost their vocal score.

Tabitha: Don’t worry, I’ll be sure to build you in a solo somewhere. I want us to pull out every stop possible.

Well, that’s nice. Diva looks out for diva, suppose… Kimmy, also having joined this group, offers Yindra a friendly smile as they get down to business.

INT. BABINEAUX HOME - ZAY’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

The calendar shows there’s no more countdown. No more waiting.

The Turner audition is here.

Zay is just about ready, sizing himself up in the mirror on the inside of his closet door. He’s dressed plainly as per the audition guidelines, just a muscle tank and a pair of dark dance tights. He finishes securing his hair into a short ponytail, out of his face and ready for action.

This is it. Time to bring it. He releases a deep breath, closing his closet door.

INT. BABINEAUX HOME - NIGHT

Zay descends the steps and grabs his coat off the rack by the front door, Omar and DONNA BABINEAUX in the living room waiting for him. The latter gets up and comes to give him a hug, both wishing him luck. Although the glamor and fanfare is less in-your-face, the moment feels quite reminiscent of the Kossal audition all those years ago.

Donna takes his shoulders and reminds him that whatever happens, wherever he goes after this, they’re proud of him. Endlessly proud. Zay nods, then glances over her shoulder towards his dad. He tacitly echoes the sentiment again, offering a light smile.

With that, Donna gives him one more kiss on the cheek and then lets him go, sending him off to face the music.

INT. TURNER AUDITION VENUE - AUDITORIUM - NIGHT

Vanessa is already there, backstage in the wings as the auditionee before her finishes his oral interview post-routine. She’s also dressed plainly as required, wearing a maroon hued leotard and tights with a sheer ballet skirt over top. Her hair is similarly pulled back, in her case into a tight, curly bun on the back of her head. She’s also got her pointe shoes on, so you know she’s about to bring it.

That is, provided she can survive the walk onto the stage. As the interview before her is winding down, she’s starting to feel a bit light-headed. Her limbs are tingling, and the lights out there feel especially bright. Any second now…

She gets a surprise when someone comes to join her in the wings, jostling her shoulders from behind. She jumps and spins around, breaking into a smile when she finds Summer there. The two of them exchange a hug, Summer wishing her luck. She’s got this.

Summer: Show ‘em exactly who Vanessa Johnson is. Don’t take no for an answer.

Vanessa manages a smile, then a nod. And just in the nick of time, as the microphone invites her onto the stage from somewhere the audience.

Game time. Vanessa turns around, takes a deep breath, then marches onto the stage.

At the same moment, Charlie arrives with excellent timing. He pokes his head into the doors to the house and sees Vanessa entering through the wings, slipping inside the theater and quietly making his way to a seat in the back of the center section. He settles in just as Vanessa makes it front and center, squinting out through the lights towards the panel of three Turner faculty in the middle row.

Rosario Gao right at dead center. She leans forward towards the microphone.

Rosario: Are you ready, Miss Johnson? Vanessa: Yes.

If she says so. Gao nods to the colleague on her right, who turns and signals to the technicians in the booth to go.

Vanessa spins and faces away from them, taking her starting position. She closes her eyes as the lights dim and focus in around her. She inhales another deep breath…

INT. IMAGINATION SPACE - AUDITORIUM - NIGHT

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Little Bird” as performed by Jasmine Cephas-Jones || Performed by Vanessa Johnson

And exhales it on the imaginary stage, opening her eyes. She’s now front and center on this stage as well, the rest of the ensemble (sans the usual two empty blocks) standing in place on their marks behind her and cast in shadow once again. In this venue, she’s allowed to be far more fashionable, and she is -- her look is evocative of starlets and singers of decades past, shimmery even in a deep shade of black with billowy bell sleeves and a slit down the leg. Her hair is untamed, free and curly down her back SZA style.

The performance is split between the Turner audition stage and this one, emphasizing dance and singing respectively. While Vanessa executes the new routine she crafted to this track in just a few days, she vocalizes the sentiments in her own voice, thus acting as the backing track for herself in our version of the rendition. It doesn’t take long to recognize why she chose the song if she was digging for something more emotionally resonant -- some of the lyrics speak for themselves. Loudly.

Wish I could could tell ya Who breaks your heart Or the grass is greener when you don't wanna a boy no, no See life, will bring you down But your fire is blazing out

The song is about discovering your own worth, spreading your wings and letting yourself take flight -- without letting your insecurities and uncertainties cage you in. Accepting yourself as you are, and allowing that to be your greatest strength.

INT. TURNER AUDITION VENUE - AUDITORIUM - NIGHT

And even more than her imaginary vocals, her performance conveys just that. Somehow, she’s managed to translate that struggle into choreography, and she delivers it as if every move could be her last.

Would be a nice sentiment for her parents to hear too… which is why it’s a great blessing that one of them decides to show up. Alexis steps through the house doors as silently as possible, better late than never, and scrambles to take a seat in the back. She’s immediately captivated by Vanessa’s performance.

It’s no wonder why. Vanessa is giving it her all, and it shows. The movements are sharp, precise, but also allowed to be imperfect. The imperfection is part of the journey, a reflection of those ways life bends and breaks you in ways you don’t expect. The parts she’s trying to learn to embrace, where you can’t always be exactly perfect.

Little bird, it's time Wings spread open wide Daddy said, walk on the wild side

That being said, her routine leaves no room for doubt as to her talent. It’s riddled with opportunities to show off -- spread her wings, so to speak -- particularly on the instrumental break. She executes a few difficult ballet leaps, stretches in and out of a split, falls onto her back before jumping back up with a flourish and launching into a spin.

Just like Zay said, she’s leaving it all on the stage.

Her imaginary self does the same with the vocals, absolutely nailing the last rendition of the chorus. The ensemble echoes her with harmonies from behind.

By the time the song winds down around 4 minutes in, Vanessa makes it to the conclusion, slipping into a set of fouetté turns. She lets the spins dwindle out seemingly like it’s natural, taking a more sweeping full-body rotation to drop back down to her knees on the stage. She tilts her head back and looks up towards the ceiling, letting her eyes flutter shut.

INT. IMAGINATION SPACE - AUDITORIUM - NIGHT

Vanessa exhales the last breathy “fly,” the lights dimming around her and casting her in shadow.

Then the lights go down, concluding the number.

INT. TURNER AUDITION VENUE - AUDITORIUM - NIGHT

Considering how breathtaking the performance was, it’s strange not to hear it met with resounding applause. This is something both Charlie and Alexis stumble over, both having to fight their natural instinct to clap as the lights come up and Vanessa gets back to her feet.

Instead, it’s quiet. She walks to the edge of the stage and waits to be addressed, catching her breath and skin shining with sweat. After what feels like an eternity of silence, Gao’s voice comes on over the microphone.

Rosario: Thank you, Miss Johnson. Well done.

Vanessa is going to do her damnedest not to read into that rare praise. She nods, maintaining her composure, while the panel begins to ask her questions. They prattle through the usual generic stuff, like what she’s hoping to gain from admission and how her time in the transfer program has prepared her.

Gao, naturally, saves the hard-hitting question for last. In all fairness, though, she did prepare her for it… in a way.

Rosario: The Turner program is an elite, top-rated dance academy that boasts a cohort of highly dedicated, unique individuals. How will you set yourself apart in the class, should you be admitted, and what will you bring to the cohort?

In short -- who are you, Vanessa? Now is the time to say it. Vanessa thinks on it for a beat… then she opens her arms and shrugs.

Vanessa: To tell the truth, I don’t know.

She wasn’t going to figure it all out in a week. It’s doubtful Gao expected her to. But she confronts the question candidly, not running away from it like she did the week before.

Vanessa: I’ve spent a long time trying to reach the standards of others. To follow the path laid out for me, even if I didn’t choose it or understand what that meant for me. How it reflected -- or didn’t reflect -- my own dreams and ambitions. To say it created a hazy sense of self would be an understatement.

Gao listens silently, not betraying anything. In the audience, Charlie is somewhat surprised by how relatable the speech is. He would’ve never guessed, based on her usual confident persona.

And Alexis frowns, disappointed to hear it. Knowing she had a hand in it, wishing that she didn’t.

Vanessa: So the truth is, I’m still figuring out what makes me… me. How I contribute as an individual, how I… make sense in the world. But the one thing I do know is that dance is a part of it. Indisputably. It used to be the biggest part, but I’ve spent the last year realizing that maybe I’m supposed to be more than that. That the joy and passion of the art can only shine brighter when it’s a piece of the portrait, not the whole picture. I think that being a part of Turner Academy is the next step in discovering myself -- a place where I can learn who I’m supposed to be and how I contribute. So… if you can grant me the patience of learning as I go, I promise, I will prove myself worthwhile. I will commit, with everything I’ve got, and show the cohort what I can do.

She’s asking for a bit of grace, and room to grow. In return, she will bring it, full heart, every single day.

It’s a compelling pitch -- but just one of many. Gao finishes jotting down some notes and then thanks Vanessa one last time, dismissing her.

Just like that, it’s done. Nothing left to do. Vanessa gives a small bow and forces her feet to move, walking off into the wings. In the house, Alexis gets up and makes a swift exit, not wanting to incidentally step on Vanessa’s moment or cause her extra stress.

Gao calls the next person up, moving things right along. Charlie takes the transition time to get up as well, quietly taking the side door out.

INT. HOSPITAL - WAITING AREA - NIGHT

Lucas is slouched in one of the seats, head tilted back against the wall and staring towards the ceiling. He’s alone now, everyone else otherwise committed. He told them all not to bother, so he’s glad they’re not missing anything important… but the silence of sitting there alone is deafening.

He checks his phone when it buzzes with a text, Grace giving him an update from beyond the double doors.

“Ken resting now. Has been in and out of sleep most of the evening. Docs say typical for this stage”

He’s fading, in other words. Who knows how much longer it’ll be now. Lucas isn’t sure how to feel about that.

He gets a distraction when a familiar face makes his way through the doors, getting the attention of the attendant working the desk. JOE is there with a carry-out bag, gruffly informing the attendant he won’t be hanging around long. He’s just stopping by for a drop-off.

Lucas straightens up when he recognizes him, completely shocked to see him outside the diner. Once Joe makes his way over, he finds his words, brow furrowed in confusion.

Lucas: Why are you -- ? Joe: Heard through the grapevine what was up. Thought y’all might want some food that isn’t made in a hospital cafeteria.

He hands Lucas the bag, filled with diner delights made by his coworkers. There’s a few condolences and warm wishes written on receipt scraps, as well as a slice of Grace’s favorite slice of pie set aside especially for her.

Lucas doesn’t know how to react. He can feel his throat starting to hurt, so he swallows hard.

Lucas: You didn’t have to do all this. Joe: Like hell I didn’t. I only do shit because I want to. And what I wanna do is look out for my crew.

Which, of course, includes Lucas. He’s been an employee of his for almost two years -- that’s as good as family in his book. And he takes care of family.

Lucas doesn’t have words. Joe doesn’t expect any. They’re birds of a feather in that way. He simply settles for a bracing pat on Lucas’s shoulder instead, waiting for him to meet his eyes.

Joe: Hold on, kid. Tomorrow’s still on the menu.

No matter what happens, time will move forward. Grief will ebb; life will go on. And when he’s ready, the diner will still be there waiting for him. Whenever he wants to come back.

With that, Joe leaves him be, giving a curt nod to the attendant as he saunters out. Lucas looks down at the bag at his feet, letting those words of advice give him a modicum of comfort.

INT. YACHT - MAIN FLOOR - DAY

As the sun sets beyond the nautical horizon, the groups have reconvened to perform and get their feedback from each other. It seems Yindra’s group has already gone, as she’s seated on the couch between Kimmy and Tabitha while they watch the other girls wrap up their routine.

And to be fair, they’re serving. While you can say what you want about their personalities, there’s no doubt that the girls who have made it this far have for a reason. Aleena helped spearhead a strong routine in the alternate group, and her footwork makes up for the occasional moments where she’s flat in this run-through. Ronica outshines her vocally regardless anyway, shooting off some spectacular runs that make Yindra squirm a bit in her seat. While Sloane takes a back seat singing wise here, and her expression remains intense and focused rather than bubbly and endearing, her dancing is at peak form.

Once they finish their run-through, out of breath, silence falls over the room. Competition is being brought, there’s no doubt about that. It hangs heavy over their heads that only five of them are going to make it in the end -- there’s simply not enough room for all of them and their grand ambitions.

Sloane: Well? Thoughts?

It’s a challenge more than an invitation. For a long moment, the silence remains… then Tabitha shrugs, doing her best to come off nonchalant in an effort to hide her insecurity.

Tabitha: It was fine. Kind of pitchy, but --

Oh, that’s really all she has to say? With all the strong female energy in the room -- and the prevailing sense of cutthroat competition breathing down their necks -- it was only a matter of time before a spark caught fire. Sloane snorts, claiming Tabitha is full of shit, which sets off a chain reaction of input and snark from everyone else. It starts along group lines, but quickly devolves into taking shots wherever possible.

If the producers were worried about missing the drama, surely it was a needless concern. There’s plenty of catfight being caught on camera right now, and their presence being removed only enables people to be even more bold. It feels like straight out of Bravo, reality TV grade fodder. Yindra stares back and forth between all the yelling, for once more bowled over by diva behavior than from when she was at Adams.

Yindra: Oh my God, it’s like Zay and Maya on crack.

Kimmy is equally overwhelmed, uncomfortable with all the harsh words being thrown around and standing awkwardly above it all with her height. She clasps her hands together, somewhat hiding behind them, but also weakly tries to keep the peace.

Kimmy: Stop, y’all. We’re women supporting women…

Yeah, all that stuff goes out the window in this industry. It seems like the theatrics and petty fighting may never end, all the big personalities in the room just fueling one another like gasoline. Either that, or it’ll escalate, as it seems like Madysin and a couple of the other girls might just launch at each other.

Sloane has other ideas. She steps away from the madness as it’s unfolding and makes her way to the kitchen. She scans the cabinets looking for what she needs, then finds a suitable choice, picking up a bottle of sparkling cider from the wine rack.

Then she turns back towards the rest of them, keeping her unimpressed, sharp expression on her face as she takes the bottle and smashes it against the countertop.

That’s an effective way to get attention. All the girls jump, a few of them shrieking on instinct at the sound, as the bottle shatters and cider spews all over the kitchen. Sloane stares at all of them, holding out the neck of the bottle and dropping it onto the hardwood. She pointedly steps on it and crunches it under her combat boot, not breaking eye contact.

Yindra stares over Kimmy’s upper arm, basically indirectly using her as a human shield. The look on her face says it all though, wide eyes and jaw dropped open.

These bitches are crazy. Female ambition has a dark side, and she’s seeing it up close and personal. Adams Academy has nothing on this.

And she’s trapped with all of them in the middle of the Pacific, no way to escape but going overboard herself.

Sloane: This is fucking circus. Y’all can have my ticket -- I’m getting off the bandwagon.

She’s over it. She exits the main floor, a few other girls taking her lead and dismissing themselves. Yindra stays where she is, not sure whether she has the power to move her limbs back yet. They certainly created a spectacle, there’s no doubt about that.

And honestly, that’s probably exactly what the label wanted.

INT. TURNER AUDITION VENUE - DRESSING ROOM - NIGHT

Zay is pacing impatiently, shaking out his arms and trying to stay loose before his turn. It’s coming up any minute now, and he’s using all the willpower he has not to get in his head about it. From prior experience, he knows that only leads to trouble.

Lucky him, he’s gifted a panacea just in time. He glances towards the door behind him in the reflection of the mirror, watching as it opens and a welcome face steps inside the room. Zay whips around, releasing a sigh of relief.

Zay: Charlie.

Indeed. He’s there, just like he said he would be, and he managed to sneak his way backstage to prove it before he went on. He smiles and steps further into the dressing room, meeting Zay in the middle.

Without thinking, Zay reaches out and takes his arms with shaky hands, jostling them playfully just as he’s using them for balance. Excitement, nerves, all that jazz.

Charlie: Hey. Zay: You’re here. Charlie: I said I would be, didn’t I? I’m getting better about holding my word, I swear. How are you doing? Zay: Good. Fine. Completely calm. Not feeling like I’m about to die or that my heart is gonna fall out of my ass. I’m so chill, it’s uncanny.

Charlie can’t help but laugh, shaking his head. He slips from Zay’s grasp simply to return the favor, touching his arms and then bracing his shoulders instead. He holds his gaze.

Charlie: You’re gonna be fine. Not even that -- you’re gonna be better than fine. You know you will be. Zay: Yeah. Yeah. Charlie: The only reason it didn’t happen last time is because you couldn’t show up. Not the way you usually do. This time, there’s nothing getting in your way. So there’s nothing that’ll stop them from seeing just how incredible you are. I know it. I have nothing but faith. Zay: Yeah. You’re right. [ taking a deep breath ] Thanks for coming. I’m really glad that you’re here. Charlie: [ with a soft smile ] Any time. It’s my privilege. But you would’ve been okay even if I couldn’t make it. You always are. You don’t need me. Zay: Well, I want you.

Here, that is. Didn’t quite come out that way, but…

Charlie feels it in his chest, like Zay just casually decided to drop a bomb on him. So normal and everything. He chalks it up to the nerves, to pre-audition jitters. No one really has control over their words right before a big audition.

Even so, Charlie delicately removes his hands from Zay and takes a step back, just so he doesn’t do anything he might regret. He isn’t about to audition, but Zay-jitters are an affliction he’s never quite figured out how to cure.

It hardly matters anyway, as a helper pokes her head in and lets Zay know it’s time for him to go backstage. He nods, thanking them, then exchanges one more anxious smile with Charlie.

Charlie: I’ll be right out there. You got this. Zay: Yeah. Charlie: Break a leg. [ a beat ] Just not your tendon. Zay: Fuck you.

It’s said with laughter, though, which is exactly what Charlie was going for. He mirrors his breathless grin and gives him one more nudge on the arm, then he leaves him to it, disappearing back through the doors. Zay takes the moment of quiet to himself to get centered, bottling up all the nerves he would never let anyone else see and burying it down.

Now, it’s just about the dance.

INT. TURNER AUDITION VENUE - ATRIUM - NIGHT

As Charlie is making his way back to the auditorium, who should he run into but Vanessa. She’s got her duffle bag over her shoulder and is on her way out, but she does a double take when she sees him heading back towards the side door.

Vanessa: Charlie?

He whips around, thinking he’s been caught trespassing, but he smiles when he sees it’s just her. He greets her and pauses to chat, commenting on the theater. Pretty nice venue, isn’t it?

Charlie: I honestly always wonder why they make us go all the way to some random other location for stuff like this -- Adams did this sometimes too -- but I guess it’s mainly for the aesthetic. It probably wouldn’t be as glamorous to do the auditions in the Turner theater or whatever. Vanessa: Right. Probably. [ a beat ] So, um… what are you doing here?

Charlie blinks, then laughs when he realizes it wasn’t obvious. He already forgot he’s kind of there on the down-low.

Charlie: Zay asked me to come.

Oh. Vanessa absorbs that, maintaining an impressively blank expression.

Vanessa: He did. Charlie: Yeah. You know, as a favor. Have some friend support in the audience.

True… although, look around. Don’t see Riley or Nigel hanging about, do we… Vanessa manages a weak smile, doing her best not to show how much this rattles her. How much she wishes it didn’t, that it didn’t create a sting of jealousy and a pang of hurt in her chest. It’s totally fine for Zay to want support for an audition. It’s natural, even. It shouldn’t mean anything that he asked a friend to show up for him.

But it’s not just a friend. It’s Charlie. He went to Charlie -- and didn’t even think to break the ice and ask her.

Vanessa: Right. For sure. Charlie: Luckily, I got here early enough to catch your audition too. You were awesome. I do not envy the admissions panel, I would not want the job of having to choose amongst you all. Though if it were my choice, you and Zay, easy. Vanessa: [ with a chuckle ] Thanks. From your lips to God’s ears… Charlie: I do have a direct line with him, so I’ll let him know. No need to thank me.

Okay, nerd… Charlie claims he better go back in there, because he doesn’t want to miss anything.

How could he, when Zay personally asked him to be there?

Vanessa nods, letting him go. He tells her one more time that she was fantastic, then books it over to slip back into the auditorium. She watches him go, a million thoughts creating chaos in her mind… then she turns and continues her walk out of the venue. Not letting herself look back.

INT. CHEY APARTMENT - KITCHEN - NIGHT

Nigel is facing his own daunting task, trying to find the courage to bring up his transfer idea to his parents. The family is gathered around the small dinner table, like any other normal night, ERNESTO CHEY trying to engage LEONA CHEY in chatter while she’d rather be scrolling TikTok on her phone; REYNA CHEY discussing the days events with LIEZEL CHEY in a mix of Tagalog and occasional English. Nigel could keep his head down, stay quiet like normal, and nothing would change.

But he can’t. He knows he needs to do this. His parents support him -- if he can just get the words out, they’ll understand.

Nigel: I’ve been thinking about school.

He’s got their attention. It doesn’t take much, since he rarely demands it. Ernesto asks him to go on, all of them giving him polite, good-natured smiles -- except for Leona, who is scrolling through Instagram under the table instead.

She won’t be ignoring him for long. Once he stumbles a bit through how the last year at NYU has gone, and how he feels about the program (addressing all the pros as well as the cons in classic peacemaker fashion), he arrives at the point.

Nigel: I don’t think it’s quite the right fit for me. I think I’d like to transfer. Liezel: Oh, I’m sorry, Nigel. We thought you were enjoying the program. Ernesto: Surely we can find something better though. Whatever we can do to help --

This is good. This is exactly what Nigel wanted to hear. He smiles.

Nigel: Actually, that part I’ve already figured out. I do really love acting, and I think I’ve got more of an interest in playwriting, too. I don’t want to give that part up, I’m just not sure that New York is the right place to do it. For me. I’ve been talking to one of my friends from Adams, and she… well, I’ve done some research. And I think -- [ with a grin ] I really want to transfer to the UK.

For all his palpable excitement, that little nugget is met with silence. Liezel’s eyes widen, trying to process that. Ernesto isn’t sure he heard right. Leona’s mouth drops open.

Ernesto: The UK? Like, London? Nigel: Yes. Yes, there’s so many great options for theater there that have excellent credentials and alumni. Guildhall, LAMDA, ArtsEd. I’ve been looking into the programs, and I think with my grades, I could be eligible for a scholarship. So -- Liezel: Are you crazy? You cannot do this.

Oh. That’s not what you want to hear. Reyna watches the conversation silently, but her eyes follow it like a tennis match. Nigel hesitates, unprepared for his mom’s blunt response.

Nigel: I know it’s a big change. But like I said, I’ve done the research. It’s -- Liezel: You cannot go all the way across the ocean. For some… silly school. You have so many options here. Nigel: … I don’t see how me wanting to go to one of these schools is any different than NYU? Which you were in support of. It’s just a little farther -- Liezel: A little farther! Ha! Ernesto: A whole other country would be quite a big jump, Nigel. Nigel: Yeah, but I can handle it. You guys are always saying how mature I am. And this could be exactly what I need for my career. Liezel: Your career? That’s your big reason? Oh my --

Liezel is clearly overwhelmed, and it’s coming out as incredulity. Nigel frowns, growing frustrated.

Nigel: I don’t get how this is different than where I am right now. You were all for NYU. Why is that different -- Liezel: NYU is our backyard. It’s right here. You can stay here, you save money. You know the city and you have friends. It’s one thing to follow a dream like that when you have that safety net. Going all the way to another country with no guarantee… no. No, that is bad. That is not okay, Nigel. Nigel: This is so ridiculous! You always told me you supported my acting. You sent me to Shakespeare camp. You never discouraged me. Ernesto: That’s another discussion -- Nigel: You’ve always talked about how awesome it is, that I do what I do. That I went to Adams; that all my friends have such big talent and high hopes. You thought it was amazing when Jade went to L.A. Or when Yindra went there with no school and no plan. Hell, when I talked about Zay going out for all these touring auditions and stuff, you said it was cool. You said you hoped it worked out for him. Why is it great when he does it, but when I want to try for something more it’s -- Liezel, frazzled: You are not Zay Babineaux!

The room goes dead silent. You could hear a pin drop. Even Leona is mute, staring between her mother and her brother with her mouth ajar.

Nigel is equally frozen, looking at his mother as though she’s a complete stranger. She really told him straight to his face that he’s no Zay -- that he isn’t cut out for this. That she doesn’t believe he has what it takes; that she could never support his change of plans, because it’s so damn silly of him to think he could.

They don’t believe in him. They never did.

Liezel’s cheeks are flushed, and she doesn’t look proud of what slipped out of her mouth. Even so, she doesn’t take it back.

Nigel gets up from the table without a word, throat thick and eyes glossing over.

Ernesto: Nige --

He doesn’t stop, disappearing to his room and slamming the door. A moment later, Liezel gets up and escapes as well, equally overcome with emotion. Ernesto sighs, pressing his hands together and closing his eyes to center himself.

Reyna looks after where both Liezel and Nigel left, a somber expression etched into her features.

INT. TURNER AUDITION VENUE - AUDITORIUM - NIGHT

We follow Zay as he emerges from the wings and out onto the stage, aglow under the spotlights. Once he makes it front and center, focus shifts back to Gao and the panel. She asks him the same question as to whether or not he’s ready to begin.

Zay stares straight ahead, expression determined. Grounded. You’d never believe that just minutes ago, he was shaky and full of nerves in the dressing room.

Zay: Born ready.

Let’s see if that talk can be supported by his walk… he moves to the same starting point as the lighting adjusts, preparing for the audition to begin. Zay drops his head down, closing his eyes and taking a deep, centering breath.

Then he lifts his head as the instrumental track begins, eyes bright with conviction.

INT. IMAGINATION SPACE - AUDITORIUM - NIGHT

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Wait For It” as performed by Hamilton Original Broadway Cast || Performed by Zay Babineaux

Zay’s performance follows the same pattern as Vanessa’s, divided between choreography in reality and a vocal showing on the other stage. The ensemble is behind him, same as always, covering the back-up vocals and harmonies. Zay’s solo style is truer to his sensibilities, a velvet black jersey shirt half buttoned and tucked loosely into his well-fitted sleek dark pants.

In both realms, Zay delivers. To say this number has been a long time coming from him is a massive understatement. This is a performance that Zay understands intrinsically -- the perpetual Burr to Farkle’s Hamilton, the ever-striving try-hard, the accursed lover seemingly fated to wait -- that he feels in the marrow of his bones. It speaks for him in a way an interview never could, tells a story about him with so many layers, not necessarily all things he wants the world to see.

And that’s exactly why it succeeds. Because it’s raw; because it’s real. They wanted to see the true Zay Babineaux, to learn something from his routine, and this is about as far as he can take that assignment. The emotion bleeds through every movement, each complex combination or advanced ballet jump.

Not to mention the vocals they can’t hear, the ones he’s belting out straight from the soul.

I am the one thing in life I can control! I am inimitable, I am an original

Just like Vanessa, Zay leaves it all on the stage. All of his desire, his passion, his endless ambition. He rarely gives a weak performance, but this by far goes down as one of his best.

INT. TURNER AUDITION VENUE - AUDITORIUM - NIGHT

It’s such a captivating performance, it’s actually a disappointment when it ends. The song is shorter than it feels for how epic it is, so when Zay finishes out the number and hits his final pose, shoulders back and chin held high, it feels far too soon.

Also like his competition, the silence that follows is jarring considering the thunderous applause that should be there. Charlie practically has to sit on his hands to resist the instinct, keeping his eyes on the panel a few rows ahead of him.

Gao: Thank you, Mister Babineaux. That was quite the performance.

Zay doesn’t waste time reading into her words. He simply nods, coming to stand at the lip of the stage and clasping his hands behind his back. Waiting for their barrage of questions, professional and patient. He answers all of the standard queries without missing a step, keeping his delivery even and calm. Passionate, yet refined. They got enough of his soul just now when he bared it all over the stage -- he doesn’t need to spill out any more.

It comes to the final question, which of course, Gao delivers. She has a different one for him than she did Vanessa, indicating that these last questions might be geared towards the specific applicant.

Gao: You’re obviously a competent dancer. That doesn’t come from nothing. In your opinion, what do you believe is essential to mastering the craft?

Huh. Not the kind of juggernaut he was anticipating… but at the same time, it’s a good one. Because he doesn’t have a perfect answer polished and ready to go -- he has to contemplate it, search his brain for the right one. The truth, if there is one.

And he finds it. He finds it out there in the audience, sitting a few rows behind the panel. Looking back at him, a beacon even through the shine of the stage lights, there to cheer him on.

Zay: Support.

Gao was probably expecting something different -- more arrogant, or literal. She seems a bit surprised.

Gao: Do you care to elaborate?

To be fair, Zay seems surprised by his answer too. It just slipped out, the moment he spotted Charlie. But he felt it, so he decides to run with it -- particularly when Charlie gives him an encouraging nod.

Trust yourself. You’ve got this. Zay nods.

Zay: Yes. If I’ve learned anything in all my years dancing, it’s that you cannot do any of it without the right support. Literally, mentally, emotionally. There’s the physical sense of it -- you have to have the right form, the right equipment, or you’re going to screw it all up. I learned that the hard way, pushing myself too hard and not letting my body get the proper rest. That’s why I’m standing here right now, grasping for a second chance, since I never got the opportunity to properly follow through on my first one. [ a beat ] But it’s actually the rest that I think is more crucial. The external support. I mean that in a literal sense, like trusting your fellow dancers to lift you up and catch you when the choreography requires it. But it matters just as much off the stage, if not more. I know I have talent, and I have what it takes, but I never would’ve gotten here without all of the people who lifted me up along the way. My parents, who let me follow my insane dreams and paid for dance classes and carted me back and forth to an arts school in Manhattan from Queens every day until I learned how to drive. My classmates at said school, who not only became my friends, but also challenged me and pushed me to be better. My teachers who saw my potential, guided me towards the right opportunities, and didn’t let me squander my talent. Who…

Zay trails off when he looks at Charlie again. The one who showed up just because he asked him to -- who would show up regardless, because that’s what they do for each other. Who always rallies him to go for it and follow through, who believes in his capabilities even when he’s lost the drive himself. Who rekindles that fire in his soul without thinking twice, who believed so passionately in his purpose to be something in this world that he sacrificed his own wants to set him free to do it.

The one he loves. The one he still loves, even for all the effort and denial he’s committed to convincing himself otherwise. It hits Zay like a wrecking ball, right there in the middle of his Turner audition, the all-consuming truth he can’t run from no matter how hard he tries.

He loves him. He’s still in love with Charlie Gardner.

But right now, he can’t think about that. He has to finish this fucking audition. He takes a deep breath, trying to keep his heart from pounding and his head from spinning out of control.

Zay: None of it would be possible without support. I’m extremely, extremely lucky to have an incredible support system, one that I will never, ever take for granted. And I see a version of reality where Turner Academy becomes an integral part of that system… along with getting the chance to become one for my peers in the cohort.

That’s the best thing they got out of Adams, after all. A family, a team, even with all its quirks and imperfections. Charlie smiles, in total understanding.

It’s the best answer Zay could’ve given. It captures him in all his nuances, demonstrates that under the talent and bravado there is a compassionate, community-oriented man desperate to share his love of dance with people who will appreciate it. Who wants to share it with the world, once his journey takes him there. It’s the most human he’s ever let himself appear in the Turner ecosystem, let alone in front of Gao.

And seemingly, it’s all she needs. She confirms that’s all and that he’s dismissed, reminding him that the three finalists will be announced at the gala next month. Zay nods, giving a bow and thanking the panel for their time.

Charlie checks his watch. He looks reluctant to dip, but he’s out of time. He gets out of his seat and makes for the door through the darkness as Zay exits the stage.

Nothing left to do now but wait for the universe to make its decision.

INT. TURNER AUDITION VENUE - ATRIUM - NIGHT

But suddenly, the prospects of his transfer are far from Zay’s mind at the moment -- he has basically zero thoughts as he rushes out into the lobby with his duffle bag, scanning the room with his heart caught in his throat. Not sure what he’s anticipating or what he thinks he’s going to say.

Just certain that after what he experienced on stage, he needs to see Charlie.

No such luck. The atrium is empty, and Charlie is long gone. He finds this out moments later when he checks his phone, discovering a text from him.

“Sorry, had to dash because of my other plans. I’m so glad I was able to see your audition though because you were AMAZING as always. Seriously one of your best performances ever. They’re insane if they don’t accept you after that.”

“I’m very grateful I got to experience it. Thank you for inviting me. We’ll debrief soon, promise”

Zay stares at the texts, feeling bizarrely stuck. Overwhelmed by what they say, but also what they don’t say. He suddenly feels unwell, a little crazed in the head, like he used to in the fabled days of junior year. Light-headed, airy feeling in his chest, mouth uncharacteristically dry. He starts to type a response, feebly attempting to capture any of this feeling into words that he needs him to know -- but he stops himself before he can send anything.

What the hell is he thinking? He’s not thinking. Charlie is busy; he can’t text him like this. Not to mention, what the fuck would he even say? He doesn’t think he could articulate the chaos whirring in his mind no matter how hard he tried.

He has a girlfriend. One that he likes, that he should’ve thought about on that stage. One that he should probably reach out to, now that the auditions are done and there’s no reason to continue their embargo. No tangible reason, at least…

Ultimately, Zay does none of the above. He pockets his phone and texts no one, numbly heading for the doors.

[ ← Last (Part 1, half 2) ] [ 410 Hub ] [ Next (Part 2, half 2) → ]

#410

0 notes

igotanidea · 2 years

Text

The Raven's daughter: Morpheusx Matthew's daughter pt 2

prevously: part 1

Part 2

Since The Dream Lord never explicitly forbid Matthew from visiting his daughter, the Raven was using every opportunity to do so. This time he surprised the girl on Friday morning taping on her window on the early morning.

-Hey dad, perfect timing, you know. If you keep doing this I might throw my alarm clock away – Kay opens the window, not quite awake yet with her hair being a mess and her eyes not accustomed to the light.

-Don’t fool me. You don’t have an alarm clock. You use your phone for that. I just really hope you changed the sound, it was always annoying me – the Raven hops inside referring to his daughter’s high school time when she was listening to some electronic music

-It was a brief phase! – she protest emphasizing the word “brief”, even now, being almost 30 still a bit embarrassed about that – And yes, I did change it. But you would not like my alternative rock either.

-You know, this is one of the very rare moments where I’m glad to be a bird. I can always fly away from the music I don’t like – Matthew spats jokingly.

-Just wait here for a minute, ok? I need to remind my eyes their purpose is to actually helps me see. I don’t think they’re awoken just yet – she lets her father into tiny kitchen and leaves him crouching (?) on the counter.

A couple minutes later, she prepares breakfast. Unbothered by Matthew’s disapproval she just pour some cold milk into the bowl and fill it with cereals.

-Kay! – the raven caws – how many times do I have to tell you? The cereals goes first, then you add milk.

-Oh, yeah, I forgot – she grins – guess it’s too late now.

If anyone from the outside ever watched this two, one would think father and daughter to be childlike individuals fighting over every simple thing. The truth however, was that they had a lot of inside jokes and deeply cared about each other. Matthew, as the father was somewhat better at showing that explicitly. Kay was more prone to use sarcasm and irony to cover her sensitive part and avoid being hurt. There were only a couple of people who saw through that. The rest? Simply wasn’t worth it. Knowing his daughter well enough, Matthew decided it would be best to entertain Kay with the continuation of the story he started last time when he visited.

- …. and then, after we received boss’ pouch of sand we went to Hell…

- Hell? Like literal Hell or are you being metaphorical right now?

Mere mention of the Dream Lord and her father going to Hell made Kayleen stop her spoon halfway between the bowl and her open with astonishment mouth. Neither the girl nor the bird notices her hand shaking slightly causing some of the cereal to drop down and splashing the milk all over Matthew and Kay’s pajama.

-Hey, watch it, Kayleen – Matthew ruffles his feathers a bit annoyed

-Sorry, dad - she reaches for the towel trying to dry her father which is funny enough if you have a specific sense of humor.

-Never mind. I meant literal Hell. You know, souls of the damned, demons and Lucifer. By the way did you know that the ruler of underground is actually a woman? Pretty intimidating one, may I add.

-Obviously. That’s a common knowledge. I am basically on a first- name basis with Lucifer – she shrugs casually – But sarcasm aside, I’m not a bit surprised it takes a woman to keep a bunch of demons in check. The person who said we are the weak sex must have definitely been a man – she grins and Matthew can’t help being proud of how powerful and resilient his daughter grew up to be. Considering the fact she was raised without a mother who left the family when Kay was little – I can’t believe I’m really asking this, but how was it? In Hell? Do they really make the damned wash in the ladle of tar?

-What? No. Quite the opposite actually.

-Meaning?

-They make you bring your own fire to hell.

-What? Really? So the costs of maintenance is high there too, I suppose? I mean, my rent has been killing me lately. And speaking of rent, I would love to continue this conversation later but for the time being I got to get to work. You know, I’m still a human and I have to earn to pay the bills. Otherwise I might be forced to go to Hell as well. Hmm – she mutters – that even rhymes.

-Sorry, Kay, I guess I forgot about that. I just missed you and can’t get enough of you.

-I know. It’s ok. I missed you too – the girl gently taps the bird’s head – can you visit me later? In the evening? I finish my classes at 4 p.m. That is – if you have some kind of time tracking in the …. – she hesitates trying to remember the name of Morpheus’ realm … - Dreaming – she snaps her finger in sudden realization.

-We don’t and I’m not entirely sure if boss wouldn’t need me later on. He relies on me heavily, you know.

-I bet. You must be very important to him. The only one loyal enough to follow him through the gates of damnation – she laughs lightly and it’s contagious making Matthew “laugh” too.

-Well, he’s not exactly the first one to admit it.

-Yeah, from what I saw when he appeared here he can be quite moody and distant. Drama queen much?

-He is. And you don’t even know one percent of it. Anyway, I will do my best to meet you after work. I know you like a good story.

-Being an English and writing lecturer requires a little bit of imagination and creativity so any prompt can be useful.

-And I’ll be glad to provide you with that. So, we see each other later. – the Raven states, gently tapping Kayleen’s hand with his wing and fly out the open window.

-This is crazy – Kayleen says to herself – this is batshit crazy – shaking her head but still with a smile on her face she quickly dresses up, picks up her bag and leave the flat. Thankfully, she lives close to the University so there is no risk of being late.

***

As she crosses the street she spots one of the new teacher. The historian. She didn’t really have the opportunity of meeting and greeting him properly but she met an ear that his name was quite unusual. Hob? Maybe that was some sort of abbreviation? From Robert perhaps? Anyway, rumor has it, that this new guy was a walking encyclopedia of fun facts so she already had an idea of how to get him involved in her classes covering some literature classics. Like Shakespeare for example. But that was an idea for the future since the topic for today was frankly the ancient roots of modern arts. How the current writers and artist derive from what was created from the past.

The girl quickly enters the auditorium humming with content. Once again all of her students showed up. Not that she wanted to brag, but her classes was always the most-attended one and that made her proud. The possibility to help shaping and inspiring young minds was always appealing to her so she was practically leaving her own Dream.

-Good morning everyone - she greets the student getting some in return – I’m so happy to see you all. Today’s topic might be particularly interesting to you since we are going to be mixing a little bit of past with a little bit of present.

-So you’re not going to bore us with the history of some old classic dudes who died a hundred years ago, professor? – one of the boys in the front row ask.

-Oh, I was actually planning on making you learn the whole history of Plato by heart – she jokes and the atmosphere loosen up – But seriously, did I ever? - Kay smiles at him as the boy shakes his head grinning. That was another specifics of her classes. She never stopped students from freely expressing their minds. This was a free-hate, open – minded space where she allowed even the sacrum to be torn apart and build up again. Most often with the surprising and exciting results. – Ok, I know you come from different schools and therefore your experience with teachers may vary, but once again I got to remind you of the first rule here. Do you remember it? – the students nod their heads – Amber? Would you like to say it out loud? – Kay point to the redhead girl .

-Don’t be afraid to use constructive criticism.

-Precisely. So… - Kay launches the presentation she prepared for today – ancient Greece and Rome. The cradle of humanity. The basis of culture, art and stories. Do you agree? Or do you think something else?

-In my opinion Greece and Rome are overrated.

-Ok. Care to elaborate, Dylan?

-I mean, in all of the history books there are so many pages about the Greek philosophy, the Roman law, their mythology and inventions. I do not question the fact that there were great accomplishments like aqueducts, but at the same time I feel like other cultures are not being given enough credit.

-Any particular in your mind?

-Yes. Egyptians. And maybe Scandinavian. I mean, Zeus is the same as Ra or Odin, right?

-I can’t really agree with that – another student chimes in.

-Speak your mind then, Abby. What’s your opinion?

-Dylan still keeps on naming the big cultures. But what about the ones that really are forgotten in history books? Personally I’m quite interested in Andean cultures but there are no information of them anywhere.

-I think both of you have some right. The point is that the cultures inspired one another. None of them actually functioned in isolation. And what Dylan said about Zeus, Ra and Odin being the same is true. As well as the fact that they may have derived from the civilizations we don’t even know existed. It all transpires. So tell me, does any of you believe we can use some of ancient in today’s work? Give some modern vibe to stories from the past and give them new meaning? Yes, Skye?

-I… I actually started a story based on one of the myths.

-Great. Would you like to share it with the class? – Kay encourages her, aware that Skye is one of the shy students –come on, safe space, remember?

-Well…. It’s modern approach on the story of the god of Dreams? – Sky has this manner of speaking when she’s using the questing intonation. – Morpheus

Are you kidding me? – Kayleen thinks to herself. Why does my world start revolving around the Dream Lord all of a sudden. First, my dad being his Raven, then he himself showing up and now this.

-Really? – she asks not showing any sign of her real train of thought.

-Yes. I was thinking of starting the story from the sleeplessness disease that we had to deal with some time ago. I was like five when it ended but the newspapers were writing a lot about it so there’s a lot of material to go through. And the opposite of insomnia – the story of the sleeping beauty, you know professor. Unity Kinkaid.

-Yes, yes, I know what you mean. I was actually born during this time so I had the opportunity to briefly experience that. If you like I could give you a hand with writing – Kay smiles .

-That would be amazing, professor. Thank you.

-Don’t mention it. So – would anyone else like to share an idea of their own? Or maybe add something to Skye’s?

When the class ends Kayleen’s thoughts go back to the time of the dreamer’s disease. She clearly remember one particular person, Roderick Burgess and his son Alex, who claimed they had a Devil locked up the basement of their manor. Only that it was not the devil. Her father already told her some part of the story, mentioning that it was in fact the Dream who they held in captivity. For a century. No wonder he was acting the way he was. A hundred years completely alone would drive anyone insane. And when he broke free the whole craziness of retreating his tools and talking birds started. Matthew was only halfway through the story but Kay was smart enough to connect the dots given.

Getting lost in her own thoughts of Morpheus’ locked-up time and having her half-an-hour lunch break she didn’t notice her eyelids growing heavy, slowly drifting off to a nap on her own desk. What she also didn’t know is that she was on a way to a very different domain. The one she only ever heard off. The one ruled by some particularly broody dark-haired man. When she opens her eyes the girl is dumbfounded as her surroundings doesn’t even remotely resemble her home city, London. She’s standing in the middle of meadow, so peaceful and quiet that it actually seems a bit eerie to her. The colors, the scents and the sounds seem twice as vibrant as anywhere else she has ever been. There’s also not a single soul anywhere. As she turns around she spots a path leading to an enormous lake with water so clear that you can see right through it and a suspension bridge above it. Kayeen is amused by the fact that it’s shaped in the form of giant hands holding the arch and leading the way straight to the gates of the palace made from white and gold marble with stained glass windows, and sculptures. Despite the fact that there are quite a lot of ornaments everything seems classy and thoughtful.

-Amazing – she whispers to herself looking away only when she hears the sound of flapping wings. – Wait, is that a Gargoyle?! - Once again, the girls gasps in admiration. For a moment all of her thoughts but the delight gone. Just for a moment though, as she quickly regain herself.

-Where the heck am I? – she wonders frowning.

Part 3 coming soon :)

Edit: part 3 is up here

taglist (is open) @marvelsmylife @wickedly-grim @thereeallink

@lisacarolined @boofy1998 @endlessdreamqueen @mikariell95

249 notes · View notes

fernweh-writes · 3 years

Note

how about the slasher react to an s/o that who sometimes speaks during their sleep? (Have a nice day :3)

I talk in my sleep according to my family and best friend. My best friend said she had a whole conversation with me while she was in another part of her house and when she walked back into her room I was responding but I was also knocked out. Makes no sense, I still think she’s lying…

-Fern🌿

S/O That Talks in Their Sleep

Michael Myers

Michael has a fucked sleep schedule. The only time he sleeps is when he has to because he physically cannot keep going. Although, occasionally he will take a quick nap purely out of boredom. Other than that, you’re going to have to coax him into bed with you.

Because of this, it’s likely for him to hear you talking in your sleep all of the time. He does enjoy watching you sleep. You look so peaceful and at ease and the steady rise and fall of your chest basically has him in a trance.

Michael isn’t going to mention it to you or anything. It doesn’t phase him, in fact he finds it pretty amusing. It does make him wonder what you’re dreaming about whenever you say something really crazy though. He wishes he knew what was going on inside of your head at all times, even when you’re sleeping.

Bo Sinclair

Bo will find anything and everything he can to use against you. He knows the perfect mix of degrading and praise that will have you hating him and never wanting to leave his side. So of course, this is another thing he will be using against you.

If you try and deny it he’ll find a way to prove it to you. He doesn’t care if he has to stay up all night and record you. One way or another, he’s going to prove it to you or just make a scene and get you to drop it or surrender and just let him be right. He’s always right darlin’.

Of course he is also going to use this knowledge to embarrass you. He’s the king of mansplain, manipulate, manwhore and he knows it. Bo will tell you stuff you most certainly didn’t say just so he can get a reaction out of you.

Vincent Sinclair

When the two of you first get together, he is still very hesitant about sharing a bed with you. He can’t sleep with the wax mask on his face and even though he does care about you, he’s not sure that he’s ready to show you his face quite yet.

Because of this he won’t come to bed with you until he’s dog tired. Vincent will be asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow, not waking up until the morning. So it’s unlikely for your sleep talking to be known by him for a very long time.

Once he gets comfortable with you and is with you while you fall asleep is when he will finally take notice. Even then, it’s very unlikely for him to mention it to you, he doesn’t want you to feel embarrassed. Besides, he thinks that it’s endearing listening to you say random things in your sleep. Some of the things you say are cute and others are just down right funny.

Brahms Heelshire

If you talk in your sleep he’s going to know about it within the first week you’re staying at the Heelshire mansion. He likes to watch you while you sleep and if it’s something that you do frequently he was bound to notice.

Brahms has very limited knowledge on people considering he has lived a very sheltered life and hasn’t socialized whatsoever really. It makes him wonder why you do it, so once he reveals himself to you be prepared for a bunch of questions.

Just don’t let Brahms know that you’re embarrassed about talking in your sleep. He’s a little shit and he would most definitely tease you about it just to get a reaction from you. Also uses it against you in order to get his way, so being made fun of becomes especially common during his tantrums.

Thomas Hewitt

This man sleeps like a rock. The world could be ending and he would sleep through it. Can you really blame him though? Thomas works his ass off to take care of his family, so he stays tired and always sleeps hard.

Because of this it’s very unlikely for him to even notice that you talk in your sleep. Especially if it’s more mumbling than anything because it won’t phase him one bit. If he does happen to hear you though, at first he thinks you’re saying something to him. Only when that something makes absolutely no sense does he realize you’re still sleeping.

Don’t worry about worrying over what you say in your sleep though, Thomas will never bring it up anyways. After all, it’s not like it bothers him considering it took him so long to even notice. On the rare occasion he does hear you he just thinks it’s cute and wonders what you’re dreaming about.

Billy Loomis

This one all depends on where you stand in your relationship with him. If you’re still dealing with that boy next door front he puts up then of course he’s never going to mention it to you. After all, a gentleman like him would never mock his s/o.

But if you’ve reached a point where Billy really is himself around you then congratulations he’s going to tease the hell out of you for it. Obviously he’s going to over exaggerate everything you say in order to make it better blackmail.

Definitely uses the “that’s not what you were saying last night” line in order to mock you. If you claim he’s lying then that’s just to bad considering he was the one awake and listening and you were the one asleep.

Stu Macher

Stu thinks that the things you say in your sleep are absolutely hilarious. Because he enjoys hearing the random things you say so much he never mentions it to you because then you would somehow try and stop, He’s not sure if it’s possible to just stop, but he’s not taking any chances.

Would be the type to write down his favorite things that you’ve said in your sleep. The list ranges from random things you’ve said he thought were funny to the sweet things you’ve mumbled about him without even knowing it.

One day he might just show you the list of phrases he has collected over time. Happily points out his favorite ones, he should make a hall of fame for your sleep talking phrases. Of course, he has to tease you once he finally tells you.

Jesse Cromeans

Jesse has cameras covering every inch of property that he owns. His warehouses have cameras but of course so does his home where you reside. After all he has to make sure the things that are most important to him are looked after.

So, anything you say or do will be caught on camera. Although you have no privacy, you only have no privacy with Jesse, He is the only one with access to the cameras within his home, no one else.

Unfortunately for you this means every embarrassing thing you have said or done has been caught on tape for Jesse to enjoy. While he is temped to tease the hell out of you for it, he ultimately decides against it. He doesn’t want you to stop doing embarrassing things just because you know that he is always watching.

Asa Emory

Asa watches you sleep pretty often so it doesn’t take long for him to pick up on your sleep talking. Even if it is something you don’t do often, he’s a very light sleeper. So if you start talking, it is going to wake him and you’re going to get caught saying who knows what.

He’s not one to really mention those sorts of things, But, if it is something that you do often then it means he own’t be able to sleep good with you next to him. He may care about you but he already doesn’t get enough rest as it is.

On the rare occasion he is home and the two of you fall asleep together, he waits for you to fall asleep and then goes to sleep on the couch to actually sleep through the night. Obviously he can’t get away with it for very long without getting caught. So his great idea is to guilt trip you and make it your problem.

592 notes · View notes

nari-nim · 3 years

Text

san as your boyfriend

nari-note: got some time and finally got back to writing! san was the reason I got into Ateez before Seonghwa biased wrecked me so hard I never looked back but I feel like this is a common experience so I’ll shut up now. gif creds go to @ateazes

He is beyond ambitious and action-oriented wbk. Once he realizes he has such a huge crush on you, he’ll chase after you in such an intense, focused way. Guns blazing. Pulling all the stops once he gets over the initial shyness. Hot as fuck.

He’ll feel very compelled to take care of you.

He’s really sentimental. Even the smallest things can trigger big emotional reactions from him, whether it be a small note you left behind or a love song that reminds them of the night you met.

He thrives off of your praise. Give him any compliment and just watch him swell with adorable pride.

He thrives off of any sincere, loving words from you, whether it’s spoken or written.

He’s a slut for love letters. He will take them with him wherever he goes and read it constantly.

Very vocal about his “I love you”s

Compliments for you comes so easily to him and he pays them often

Wants you to pat his head to signify a “good job” a lot. Or give his the verbal equivalent of that if that makes sense

Likes to be constantly reassured that you love him and give him the reasons you know, compliment him so so so much and he will be glowing

He will ask you questions that seems like he’s fishing for compliments but you oblige because you know he loves it so much

He would never want to feel taken for granted, so make sure you’re reciprocating or verbally acknowledging his efforts.

He’s pretty family-oriented. The type to immediately tell his family about you because he’s so excited y’all are dating!

All of Ateez knows about the two of you even before the two of you fully realized your feelings for each other.

The type to start talking about kids and starting a family, not to pressure you, but because he’s just so excited about that concept

Really likes resting his head on your shoulders or laying on your lap

He is a clingy teddy bear.

PDA? Yes. A lot. Will not hesitate unless there’s cameras, higher ups, etc.

You’re always having fun around him. It may be fun to tease him with the other members or laugh at your own jokes together. Or literally integrate a bit to the WooSan duo/WooSanSang trio and literally laugh until your sides hurt

He’s super smiley already but he’s smile grows like 20 times wider and more genuine around you. Wooyoung teases him a lot about it.

He’s actually really emotionally intelligent. He’s pretty in touch with his own feelings and highly intuitive when it comes to other people's emotions. If you don't mind doing a lot of sharing, you'll feel incredibly supported because he’s great at sympathizing and being a great listener.

Let him cuddle you while y’all are being little emo lovebirds

Like the king he is, he falls in love with who you are and not who he wants you to be (this is an easy trap for a lot of couples) because he really aims to accept his partner as who they are.

He really likes to have long, deep, and vulnerable conversations about each other, life, and any dumb topic you can think off

A lot of video calls where you stay up late and chat if he is on break

But even if he isn’t, he tries to call you for at least 10 mins before knocking out

Please there was this one time he set an alarm for himself to wake up at like 2 am because you both missed the scheduled call just so he could see you. When you picked up, he looked so tired and you forced him back to bed but the effort he puts into the relationship makes your heart melt ugh

Can get moody

Clingy

Needs and loves constant reassurance

Likes pet names a lot!

Any pet name goes but he would basically never call you by your full name unless you’re both being serious about something

Speaking of being serious, can get territorial and possessive as fuck

So can get jealous easily ngl

This might be a bit difficult because he’s the type to bottle things up. He tries to keep things in harmony and hates confrontation/disagreement. This usually leads to stability in your relationships, but try making him work on the problem together because keeping frustrations inside could mean the detriment of his own priorities and sense of self in the long run

The type to love getting kisses pressed all over his face!

Will end up coming up with some way to ask for them

You know how those cats head bump their owners for pets? He will head bump your should gently and put his face close to you, staring at you with a soft smile, and wait for his kisses

He wants so many kisses so much

You know that tik tok challenge of you refusing your partners kiss

So you tried that on him once

He pouted the first time, confused

And he whined after your avoided his peck for the second time

After the third he grabbed the sides of your face and holds you still as he just lunged at you, roughly kissing you squarely on your lips before shoving his tongue down your throat

Started kissing you so hard and so deep, pushing you a little back, you had to grab onto his shoulders to maintain your balance and ground yourself a little

Aggressively made out with you before pulling away with that sensual ass expression

“Had your fun?”

With that smirk ugh

And then proceeded to use his strength to his advantage as he fended off your horny ass out of pure pettiness

But don’t worry you brought out the demon in him, see more under the cut ;)

NSFW after this

Switch with sub lean

Caring and sweet

He loves teasing you and obsessed with foreplay and spends a lot of time on that before anything else happens

He loves seeing how much his sultry expressions and verbal teasing can get you so turned on! So he’s the type to want to see your face at all times so he can get those constant ego boosts

Sex in front of a mirror helps this goal

Oh my god he is so loud in bed

Moans so much

Type to moan while eating you out, he just tastes you and looks up at you through his super hooded eye (you know exactly what I’m talking about) and pant as his licks his glistening lips

Moans into kisses

I’ve seen a lot about him being an experimentalist

And I agree

He’s so confident about switching things up in bed. Lucky you.

This means that he would be very down with you doming him a lot if that’s what you’re into. Like he would really want you to power bottom or wreck him <3333

Will try anything you bring to the table

One very important thing to add is that he has the mentality that he will be the best at any given thing. So even if he’s introduced to a new kink of yours a few days ago, he will work so hard on refining his craft and by the end of the week, he is actually making you feel a whole new level of that kink

Gets off in the idea that only he can make you feel this

This leads into his praise kink

He will always want you to moan/gasp/scream his name and just how good he makes you feel

Can get a little possessive and needs to hear you affirming that yes, your pussy belongs to him and you’re all his and only he can make you scream like this

Just be very vocal together

His ideal level is where you’re both literally so lost in the moment that people can hear you both through the thickest of walls

Oh um also jealous/possessive sex with him happens more frequently than he likes to admit.

Because sometimes you just think he wanted to dom that day and don’t think too much about it. He’s grabbing your rougher and pounding you into the sheets,

Other times, he’s shit at hiding it because he starts growling “mine, mine, mine” as he rails you into sub space

Um into exhibitionism

Likes letting other people know how good he is making you feel

Into marking

Likes getting hickeys from you in places only he can see

One time you left a few marks on his lower waist when he was subbing the night before and it definitely didn’t fade by the time his stylist tried to don him in a mesh shirt

The next morning, it’s you that has marks all over in some highly visible areas

Oh he will send you nudes.

Sends you videos of him cumming

Sends you photos of his more provocative stage outfits

Sexts you, taunting and teasing how he knows how much you want to tie him up and edging him until he’s begging for you

Sends you voice clips of him moaning and whining about how much he wants you when he’s feeling horny

He begs for you in these vids it’s so hot

Would be very into making a sex tape

He likes watching your expressions carefully in his own time haha

But I also think he’s very much into soft love-making...that doesn’t get enough attention I think

Sex is actually all about emotional connection for him

So he takes commitment very seriously and he’s very committed to your pleasure

Very clingy and cuddly after

Aftercare may be 50/50, usually y’all try to get cleaned asap because we both know you might fall asleep so fast before the mess is cleaned up haha

854 notes · View notes

tamagosandesu · 2 years

Text

A Change of Pace

Summary: Because sometimes, even the best of fateful encounters happen in convenience stores. Luckily, he’s stopped by the right one. Author’s notes: Expect typos and grammar errors. Enjoy and I’d love to hear your thoughts!

---------

5 hours.

That was how long he’s been in the road. No structures ahead, just the familiar look of the expressway. Endless black asphalt concrete, white lane markings, and the smooth sound of his vehicle was his only company in this long road trip that he is having.

He sighs, frustrated trough and through. Although he knew what he signed up for, and all of this is a part of his work which he undeniably loves, it isn’t a crime to feel even a sense of regret at times like these.

He doesn’t really know exactly what he’s feeling right now—he could be sad, but that’s almost impossible. He could be bored—probably, and he could be lonely.

He does feel a sense of lone and absence, but not that he’ll actually admit that. He’s known for being a little cold and detached than many, hard to approach and intimidating—exactly what he wanted—and not-your-common-person. Letting his natural nature flow through, he’s gained those recognition, you could say, for himself with no sweat at all.

In his line of work, they were at least expected to be interactive, socially interactive in a tiring level after the end of the day, and to be kind to your admirers.

However, luckily, he wasn’t so much pressured to become someone completely opposite of what he is, and he’s thankful for that. He experienced disappointment and head-shaking disagreements about the way he chose to act, yet it never fazed him the least. And because of that, here he is now.

Sasuke Uchiha, a successful actor, musician, who is known to at least rarely or completely never show up to anything that includes heavy interaction with too much people. Someone who is drop-dead gorgeous but cold—the ‘ice-cold prince charming’, many swooning girls would say—but despite so many ‘negatives’, (he doesn’t actually believe that being naturally awkward in socializing is negative), he still made a name for himself that gained attention all over the country, and in many neighboring countries.

And yet, he’s here in boredom, driving miles and miles in silence.

He feels lonely—he begrudgingly admits with a guilty heart finally—in this moving, enclosed place he calls his car. Though there are always two choices in every small problem, (yes, it’s just a small problem okay?), either sit tight and endure it until he loses his sanity, or turn on the radio and listen to whatever’s on with no interest whatsoever, just to fill the silence.

He chooses the latter with great reluctance. He presses that god-forsaken button that is the start of all his nightmares, and cues the familiar sound of the daily news. He tries to switch stations—anything but news, he might really go crazy with that. But one played too lame hip-hop music that sounded just wrong and out of place for this new generation, basically stuck in the past. The other one was an informercial about a thorough step-by-step about properly brushing your teeth, which are likely targets audiences that is not him.

In the end, he settled back to news, since he decided it was a little better than listening to another station having the endless conversation about the good health attributes you get from regularly balancing your diet.

He tries, tries, to not listen to any words at all when the anchor talks, but of course that’s just utterly impossible. Specially when it concerns him.

“Rumors about the popular rock-band ENFLAME coming back together, is it true?”

He sighs. As much as he wants to avoid these things concerning the past, a tiny, dumb and stupid part of himself is piqued and he ends-up listening to it.

“Despite word from their leader, Shikamaru, about the mutual decision of finally separating and ending the 15 years of music journey of the group, fans still can’t help but think about the possibility of them coming back together. Specially that we see a big chance of that happening.”

Of what happening exactly? Getting back together?

“As we noticed quite around the time of their break-up, it was mostly during the days where the band wasn’t seen in good terms with each other than how they were before. And this all started, when one of the members was rising in stardom, and that was Sasuke, the band’s drummer and back-up singer. Fans speculated easily that the drummer might’ve caused something within the band, leading to their alleged break-up.

“But now, fans are assuming that the group might be back on good terms, seeing the images that was released on the internet a few days ago of Sasuke and Shikamaru talking. The picture was captured during the global awards last year, and—”

Sasuke abruptly turned it off. He felt a slow wave of anger slowly rising in his system as his grip on the steering wheel tightened by the moment. There it is, an issue, once again. This is why he hates the radio. It’s always oozing with showbiz and personal life meddling, just second to social media where he doesn’t even dare to go to.

Despite such clear confirmation, people still try to believe the opposite of what has truly happened. Following the break-up of their band, it was really a mutual decision between all of the members—him, Shikamaru, Naruto, Kiba, and Neji, to split-up and continue forward with their own solo careers. Mostly what caused their split was how hard everyone was having balancing their music and personal lives. Naruto, especially, who got married earlier than any of them. And after getting married, expected a child, the group had major adjustments for his sake to attend to his wife, who was having a hard time with the first few months of pregnancy, (everyone would be). And after that, even Neji had started to develop a career for himself, after having few and fewer practice schedule of their band. Every member sensed the growing feel of becoming distant and distant with each other every day, leading to the inevitable decision—disbanding.

Sasuke’s career didn’t really affected the flow of the band as much as how the public said and believed it did. His rise to the acting industry was something that his co-members supported even. Though it’s true that quite their problems started when he was slowly going to success in a different field aside from the band, it was mostly caused by personal reasons for everyone, and as it was said—Naruto’s marriage that in great timing, was around the start of Sasuke’s acting career, which led to one thing to another, and unavoidably causing quite a stir of speculations between people.

Not that the public could know the true details about their journey that led to ENFLAME disbanding.

Enduring the silence and losing his sanity it is, then.

Luckily though, and by the gracious gift of whoever had compassion left for Sasuke, he sees a glimpse of a gas station about a hundred meters ahead. He thinks of buying food for a change of pace and a quick stop by, because surely there must be a convenience store there right?

When he finally reached the curve to enter the gas station and saw that there was indeed a store, he made a mental note of victory when he saw how deserted it is. Not to flaunt his popularity or anything, but it’s honestly hard for him to go outside without being bombarded by people either shouting his name or asking for pictures and autographs on the weirdest of places—(“Can I have your autograph on the sole of my foot?”)

Still, even though there was only one obnoxious green Nissan Urvan on the parking—with a single sleeping driver with his foot out of the window, heavily snoring—he took the cap he keeps in his car and a mask as a safety measure, even though most of the time it doesn’t work because of how distinguishable his face is.

He takes his wallet and his phone, gets out the car being equally wary, locks his car with a beep, and finally strides towards the store.

Stepping inside, the door made a slight squeak and he was met with a cold breeze from the air conditioner. The inside was very serene and quiet, like he was the only person. But soon, he spotted one or two people walking around from aisle to aisle, carrying groups of various snacks and beverages in a serving for many. It was a weekday, so it isn’t really odd to see very few people inside a place, let alone one that is miles away from any city yet.

Sasuke suspects that these people are with that man snoring peacefully outside—maybe in a road-trip—and judges that they are exactly the people who are old-fashioned who never bothered to look into today’s new artists.

Exactly the type of people that will not know wo he is. Exactly the people he likes.

Though just to make sure, he was careful to avoid and add as much distance between them, assuring that he releases a brooding and not-in-the-mood-person-for-any-talk-whatsoever vibe to people whenever they would see him. It seems that he’s successful when a woman who glanced at him flinched and quickly avoided any contact with him as possible.

He first goes to the fridge, taking a can of soda and a few interesting looking drinks that he dares to try. He takes a packet of gum, mints, and any menthol candy. Immediately he walks past the chocolate section though as if it was never there. Next was the chips aisle, after the other people left. He continued to look through it, picking up those that he’s already familiar with, those he prefers to eat, and new ones that catches his eyes.

It was quite a lot in the end, more than he expected, but he’s not complaining though.

He goes to the cashier afterwards, careful not to drop anything that he’s holding.

However, when he reached the counter, it was empty of a cashier. He looks around, searching for anyone to attend to him. When there was none around, he wonders how the previous customers inside payed for their stuff. Did they self-checkout their items? But judging for the way there was no entry to the inside the counter to access the register—not of anything he sees—it says otherwise. Checking it out himself is impossible.

He then contemplates to whether or not leave the store and forget about buying anything at all, or to stay and try to wait if there’s anyone that’ll come eventually. Sasuke was starting to get annoyed, tapping impatiently on the tiled-floor with an irked face. What a horrible customer service, he thinks.

5 minutes, he decides looking at his watch and thus, started to wait. He looks around still, trying to look for anything to distract him because he knows, that his patience could run out if he continues to thinks of the cash register being left in the open without anyone to attend to it. Three minutes have passed, and there was still no one in sight that came out of the staff room. He’s becoming more and more triggered by the moment.

“I’ll be with you…in a moment!”

He almost jumped at the sudden, screeching voice that came from the staff room (he assumes because, where else could it have come from?). It was a woman’s voice that luckily, brought back his hope for having his items checked-out and payed. She seems in distress though, like she’s struggling with something. Like she’s lifting something heavy. Maybe that’s what caused her absence behind the counter.

Still, what awful customer service.

When the woman in question finally appeared from the door, Sasuke looked at her and thought of the very word ‘obnoxious’ to describe her. She was wearing a uniform, and she looked young for starters. She’s wearing a red hat, matching with her uniform of beige, and under that head garment was a mop of bright, impossibly real, and obnoxious pink hair. It must be dyed. It has to be. Sasuke scans her face next, and sees something that definitely captivated him.

Green, green, green eyes that shines so brightly, staring directly in his own pools of black,almost reflecting his very own face from its facinating clarity. It’s expressive, it’s amazing, it’s beautiful.

It makes him think suddenly that this woman must’ve attracted so much attention when she was young. She was the very personification of colorful, and it seems like her very existence filled the almost ghosted convenience store life and color.

Though what took his attention the most was the look of surprise written all over her lips.

“Wow,” she said with amazement, as if something fascinating appeared right in front of her very eyes. Immediately, Sasuke’s mind ran a million scenarios because it seems, the thing he’s dreading to happen the most actually occurred.

She recognized him.

Specially that she’s a girl. She’s a girl! And she looks exactly the type that is frequently on her phone, browsing the internet. She’s the type that is always updated about the news, about everything that is happening in the world.

Exactly the type that would recognize him in a heartbeat, even when he’s all covered up. Exactly the type of people he dislikes.

It’s fine, he told himself. After all, she’s just one woman. She’s not a horde of bustling, swooning fans that’ll jump his bones when they see him. He could very well and easily escape the predicament that he’s bound to experience, he knows.

Although the next words that came out of her mouth made him visibly frown, confusion halting his brewing distress inside.

“I never thought there was actually someone here,” she said with a laugh, proceeding to her designated place behind the counter anyway. Sasuke clears his throat, putting down his items for her to check-out, and pinched the wiring of his mask that settles atop of the bridge of his nose to secure that it won’t fall off. To secure it won’t reveal his identity.

It seems that she doesn’t recognize him, which makes him release a breath he didn’t know he’s been holding, as quietly as possible. He tries to give off the meanest and coldest aura he could, for assurance that he won’t tolerate any shape or form of a small talk.

But that didn’t faze the woman in the slightest, seeing that she started to talk.

“I thought you were with those other women here earlier so I thought no one was here anymore,” she started, not looking at him at all. It’s like she was merely wandering by herself about the weather, yet still smoothly manning the counter. “I say ‘I’ll be there in a moment’ all the time even if I’m not sure that there’s someone waiting for me in the counter at all,” she chuckles.

Sasuke takes out his phone, and uses its main purpose of why he actually brought it with him inside the store. Not for phone calls or any updates, but for pretending to looks through something, and to basically tell this rambling woman that he’s not interested about whatever she’s talking about. He doesn’t particularly turn it on, knowing that there is absolutely nothing he could actually do with it.

But she continues, to his annoyance, “This place is pretty deserted, like the possibility of someone coming here every day is at least just so little to impossible,” she continues within beeps of the cash register. “It’s funny that the possibility of someone actually waiting when I say ‘I’ll be with you in a moment’ is just flat out impossible. But I still say it anyway.”

He kind of gets distracted at his pretend busy scrolling, and finds that his ears are sub-consciously listening to her prattling.

“What’s even funnier is how there’s actually someone this time.”

Sasuke looks away from his phone and sees her beaming a smile at him. A carefree, sweet smile that makes him freeze for a moment and knocks all thoughts out of his head. His heart gave a painful beat, and he’s just suddenly aware that he’s mesmerized by that charming upturn of her lips.

As fast as it came though, it went away too soon as well as the pink-haired woman looked back at her work at hand.

She continues to talk and he clears his throat, trying to go back to his endless scrolling through nothing with his phone. But he just can’t.

He doesn’t really understand why she’s telling him any of this. He doesn’t give a damn about anything that she does, nor does she need to explain anything to him. But hearing her light laugh eased something inside of Sasuke that even surprised him. Her smile that was directed to him gave way to warmth that coursed through he’s whole being, and gradually little by little, he found himself relaxing to her talking about something that he doesn’t even spare an ear for, but just her voice he’s paying attention to.

He didn’t notice that all his items were done until she tells him the price. He becomes a little disorientated as he ungracefully pulls out his wallet, almost dropping it in the process. He also finds himself awkwardly asking again about how much he was paying for, being distracted and all.

Finally, with slightly shaking fingers, he pays and she bags his stuff with a paper bag (eco-friendly, she tells him), and hands it to him with a smile.

“Here you go, Sasuke Uchiha,” he almost had a heart attack at the sudden revelation. She knows after all. He tensed and stopped dead on his movements, as if he was a kid caught doing something bad.

When the pinkie noticed it, she laughs adorably towards him, which made a bloom of slight red on his cheeks, and says, “You know, you don’t have to be so stiff. I know you don’t want to talk to anyone since you’re giving me a professional anti-social vibe, but no need to be so try hard,” she tells him after leaning the bag closer to his grasp, while he was still slowly recovering from how taken aback he was. “I’m not gonna ask a picture of you, or anything weird like proclaiming my love or anything like that, or asking you to marry me,” she shrugs. “You already receive tons of those, I feel.”

“Have a great day,” she then tells him with another smile when he finally takes the bag. “Come again! Though I doubt that since this place is basically a deserted. If not, a ghost town.”

He walks away slowly with a nod, hopefully trying to reach the damned double doors because he will literally die in embarrassment if he doesn’t get out of this place.

“Oh, and by the way!” she exclaims when he was almost on the way to grasping the handles. “Your phone was upside down the whole time when you were seriously glaring and scrolling at it!” he could practically hear the grin from her voice.

And he internally explodes.

----------

Sasuke doesn’t really know what beckoned him to come back, but he just found himself on autopilot, driving on the same expressway and somewhat feeling giddy heading towards that same gas station beside it to stop by.

Few days have passed after his last and first time there, and he’s gone to work mode after that. But if he’s honest with himself, his mind has been plagued by that pinkie’s earnest smile and jolly voice that he can’t help but repeat inside his head. She’s made an impression to him, and it’s a good one that stuck with him despite the time that already passed.

Though despite knowing that, he still reasons that he’s only coming back here because he’s thirsty, (despite drinking a good enough amount of water before leaving set), and that he wants to buy the same food he did last time since it was surprisingly good. And that a change of pace definitely helped him last time, and would help him now too.

It has nothing to do with that pink-haired woman he met that made his drive a little bit better.

Nope, nothing at all.

The same asphalt cement he sees, and the same glimpse of the gas station that races his heartbeat by the minute.

Finally reaching the curve, he notices that there are far more people than last time. It was a weekend, considering, so it’s not out of the place for people to increase in numbers. Some might be heading back to their hometown for a good weekend bonding with their family, simply for well-deserved leisure or fulfilling plans of short vacations.

Not that it’s any of his business regarding why there are more people than usual, but that serves as a problem. Sasuke, to say in simple words, is somehow and quite literally afraid of people. Anti-social could be his last name if it was possible, and he could be literally glued to his house if circumstances in the world were different.

There are more people, and that means for him that it’s war. A battle between desperate pleas for pictures and try-hard avoidance from his part.

Sasuke parked his car in the very far part of the available slots (not that there was much in the first place), and thought about having therapy to cure such impulsive decisions. After all, it was that that brought him here in the first place. On the other hand, he also thought about leaving and ignoring…whatever it is that told him to come back here.

And he also considers the choice of going out of his car and seeing those emerald eyes again.

Something as small as this shouldn’t bother him too much, it really shouldn’t. Yet it does just that. He’s conflicted, and he feels like this is the most intense decision he is making his whole life. While his face might not show any hint of his inner turmoil, he impatiently taps his foot otherwise, and slowly rests his head on the wheel.

He fails to see just how and why has his life turned into something like this—inside his car, having an inner crisis, trying to consider a choice of going through war (literally: persistent and annoying people) only to see a woman whose name he doesn’t even know.

Damnit.

He comes up with a solution not long, and takes his phone out. Sasuke’s not a fan of social media—no denying—but since his management has tolerated his stubborn rejection of socialization, he does it by himself to create social media accounts—it could be out of guilt, or purely because he still loves his fans. He has Twitter, and Instagram, and nothing more than that. He posts there, but mostly it’s about certain promotions that concerns him, announcements of music release and very little interactions too.

He momentary lets out his dumb self as he conflicts with himself. Sasuke types a simple tweet, asking a plain 1 or 2 question with no one in mind and absolutely no connection to anything about his career at all.

He doesn’t—or more likely never—result and relies to these methods when coming up with decisions, usually and should be. Rationality is always his priority above else to follow. Feelings and other factors come in second as only back up with his conclusion. Usually.

But right now, he’s in deep conflict that he’s stooping low on having another party to help him in deciding.

He shuts his phone and waits for responses. Not to brag about his fame again, but responses comes in a flash for Sasuke. He finds a lot of times after posting something that his phone violently vibrates non-stop due to the amount of likes and comments he gets. He finds that responses mostly consist of a bunch of praises with a minimum of three words, to a maximum of repeatedly spammed heart emojis of all sorts and colors, consists people who aren’t interested in him at all that are genuinely confused to why he suddenly appeared in their timeline, and people who straight-out doesn’t know him.

And it seems it’s true since he feels his phone vibrate to an annoying level that he puts it on silent for a while. He doesn’t need that many responses, he just needs to know what majority would choose between a number that they have no idea what it meant at all.

It’s simple, the first choice, or 1, means that he drives out of this gas station, forget about the odd sense of longing he has for the pink-haired girl, and drive away to home. The second option though, is the opposite. It means, he goes incognito, grabs his wallet, gets out of the car, goes inside the convenience store, seek out the woman, and see what his life might lead to if he fulfills such a want of him.

That’s enough, he tells himself after a few minutes and opens his phone. Immediately, his lock screen is filled the Twitter icon notification, and he opens it. He did quite get a decent amount of suggestions between whether 1 or 2, so he scrolls down and counts that total of each group.

First few were an almost equal number of both 1 and 2, if not for that one person who seemed to be lost but intrigued enough to respond either way with 1. Next few rows were more of ones, and quite some twos.

Sasuke counted all of them as much as he could, (because in that short period of time, he got so much already), and got into the conclusion that there were more votes of ones than twos.

That decides it, he tells himself as he sighs, putting his phone aside and holding that stirring wheel, ready to reverse the car and get out of this place. Even majority of people thinks that the first choice is always the best in most hard cases. The rational choice.

But he finds himself that he just can’t.

He can’t will himself to drive away as he stares at the entrance of that convenience store. His eyes roam around it as much as it could, trying to see or find a hint of that familiar pink hair that he sees even in his dreams.

But what could he gain? What could that decision to come up to her and see her lead to? Satisfy his curiosity? (He’s not even sure if it’s curiosity). Make that part of himself that wants to see her shut up? He doesn’t even know anything about her for god’s sake, and yet here he is wanting to know, wanting to see her, wanting to hear that sweet voice of her, wanting to see that smile again, beamed at him brightly that it becomes blinding.

Ah, fuck it.

He groans and takes his cap and a mask, grabs his wallet and his phone—in case of needing to use it again as a distraction device—and gets out of the car, locking it. He pulls up his hood—luckily, he was wearing a hoodie this time—and tries to avoid any eye contact from anybody, looking straight at his destination.

He arrives in front of the entrance and see people talking, looking, and buying. And it’s quite a lot.

He then quietly hopes that he looks more like a suspicious person than approachable so no one would ever dare to approach him, repeatedly chanting don’t talk to me and hoping for the best.

Sasuke takes a deep breath, feeling like this is the most nerve-wracking moment of his life. He enters the slowly, trying not to gain anyone’s attention at all. Quickly though, he steals a glance at the counter and seeks a familiar sight of pink and green irises before disappearing in an isle as far away as anyone.

He convinces himself that it’s fine when he didn’t see her at the counter.

As usual, as if he didn’t just go in here with a different intent than usual, he looks through foods and beverages, being and acting like how he should normally. He tells himself to calm down now that he feels his heartbeat going wild with anticipation. He wills himself to not look at the direction of the cashier and act like an eager kid and he keeps such a bubbling excitement within him contained.

He feels the strong, strong, urge to go to the cashier, look for the girl, and see what could’ve happened. Sasuke isn’t really the type to be swayed with whatever the flow of life could possibly bring him. He likes to plan things out with outmost consideration about every factor that might contribute to him. But now it seems that he relies on luck and to whatever gods about what could today lead to.

Though despite that, his mind tells him to settle down and take his time, control that damn urge, and wait patiently until at least most people would finally leave.

He relies on his rationale right now as he skims through the aisles and foods displayed in front of him, taking his time and explore more options of possible new food to snack on.

He’s thankful that he feels himself release some tension and calm down. His earlier bubbling giddiness that felt like it was about to explode gradually lessened, but still left enough to keep him anticipating.

Finally, after what felt like forever, Sasuke concluded that the coast is clear and he can finally go up the counter and pay for the food and drinks he bought as façade for a completely different motive.

He goes up to the counter with the same feeling of anticipation crawling up his spine, and he notices the faster beating of his heart, as if he was to do the thing he’s most nervous about. Though he’s kind of sad to see that the counter is empty, feeling an arrow strike his heart and his face falling in disappointment.

But a nagging and persistent part of him was whispering that the girl might be in the staff room like the first time he met him, and that circumstances might be the same.

This raises his hopes to an embarrassing level that he doesn’t want to admit as he tells himself; 5 minutes, and tries to be patient while tapping his foot on the ground. Sasuke still tells himself to not be disappointed too much when the girl isn’t actually present, since her shift of work hours isn’t familiar to him whatsoever. He remembers that their first meeting might be just a great coincidence that is meant to happen one time (despite not believing in lucky and great coincidences).

“I’ll be with you in a moment!”

Sasuke’s heart skips a beat as he feels the unfamiliar feeling of anxiousness creeping up him. As distraction, he tugs his mask tighter and tries to cover his identity as much as he could. The girl recognized him the first time with no hesitation and doubt, so it won’t be a surprise of she actually catches him again this second time around. He tries to hide his most prominent features that makes Sasuke him and unique to anyone else. His eyes, he levels at the floor as he stares at it to hide it from plain view.

The person’s coming, he knows, and he feels like he’s unprepared enough for it.

But he’s short on time when the door soon comes creaking as he feels a presence come up to him. The person was quiet in his—or her—steps as Sasuke only sees hands coming up to his things and proceeds to man the register. Sasuke contemplates to whether he should settle down and not attempt to do anything, or at least have a look on who the person who does the register. But it seems that he can’t control impulsive actions today as he takes a quick peak, expecting that this person checking out his item is fully concentrated in his—again, or her!—task at hand.

But when he raises his gaze in the slightest, trying to catch a look at this person’s face, he’s surprised out of his with when his pools of black were met by those bright, beautiful emerald eyes that he was longing for, gazing directly at his onyx eyes with a never faltering resolve, as if she was anticipating for him to raise his sight at her.

Sasuke averts immediately, as if he was a school boy caught looking at someone far too long to be considered normal. He feels a heat creep up the back of his neck as embarrassment once again floods his being. He didn’t expect the girl to be a pro at her task as she seemingly did the register with ease considering how she didn’t even need to offer much of her focus at it. All her attention was focused on his, he now realizes as he dares not to raise his gaze anymore, nor try anything else.

“The first time when a person was here when I said ‘I’ll be with you in a moment’ is also the person that greets me the second time around,” Sasuke stiffened as he could hear the teasing tone from her, and knows, just knows that she’s grinning at him, which makes him slightly squirm and be further embarrassed.

“No need to hide, Sasuke Uchiha,” she announces as he slowly raises his gaze to look at her, tentatively. “I already caught you,” she says with a smile that hitches his breath, makes time stop and freezes him in the spot, again unable to tear away from the precious smile of hers.

She quickly goes back to what she was doing though, casually saying, “I never thought you’d actually come back.”

Sasuke shrugs when she looks at him again, finally allowing himself to relax at the conversation. It’s no use to pretend-ignore with this person. It’s still odd though, how he’s able to let down his guard in front of her in a matter of seconds, and how casual she is. Maybe not all fangirls are the same.

The transaction continues quietly—much to Sasuke’s gratitude—and they both enjoy the quiet company between them. Sasuke, as what he understands, is that this girl is quite talkative despite what the other person she’s conversing with prefers otherwise. But right now, he’s grateful that she allows him to compose himself and bask in the silence after such an embarrassing failed attempt to conceal his identity.

He feels a little sad when she hands the bag and tells him the price, silently reminding him that it’s ending and they’re finally parting. Sasuke thinks that this decision of going out and seeing her again was way too short for his liking, and he doesn’t want to end it so quickly. Yet he still hands her the money, still clutches the paper bag, and still prepares to walk out those glass doors.

“Come again!” he hears her cheerful voice as he slowly near the door. She didn’t add anything else however, like what she did last time. Sasuke’s every step felt dreadful. He hears whispers behind him, and hears his mind tell him to go, and that what he wanted was done and there’s nothing he could do about it anymore. It was a momentary lapse of judgement, and he’s just paying he consequences.

But when his palm meets the handle, he stops and stills, thinks about what he wants and contemplates the best thing he could do right now.

His mind shouts that he leaves and enough is enough, but his heart tells him something else that’s the complete opposite of his rationality. The constant clash of opposing thoughts and feelings makes him dizzy as he clutches the bag tighter.

Sasuke momentarily shuts his mind off and his feelings as he decides that he’ll allow what he thinks is his desire at the moment. He knows that nothing will result to his thought’s debate, so he takes calming breaths and allows his restrictions down and follow what he doesn’t usually follow.

He can’t leave right now, it feels like it’s not enough. He feels the urge to do something, to go back to her and say something.

Sasuke allows this urge and breaks all restraints, marching back to the counter as he successfully startles the girl.

“Uh…do you need something else?” she asks with genuine confusion, a little freaked out.

Sasuke removes his hood and pulls his mask down. He feels a certain pressure that makes it hard to breathe, and hard to talk, so he relieves some of that. He sees a visible tinge of pink spread across her cheeks as he completely bares his face to her, fully revealing who he is.

And before he even knows it, he already uttered those words.

“Go on a date with me.”

His tone was firm and his eyes were hardened with resolved that makes her green eyes wide for a moment, before she recomposes herself with a blush a shy smile.

He’s surprised when she responds, “Okay,” faster than he anticipated. But he’s even more surprised when she followed-up with, “when?” with a bashful look.

Sasuke blushes slightly while doing a mental check of his schedule, clearing his throat.

“Tomorrow,” he says with certainty, that takes her off guard again.

“Okay,” she responds quietly.

“Give me your number,” he then says after thinking about the matter on hand, realizing that he doesn’t even know anything about her identity.

Sasuke’s mind is short-circuiting at the moment due to how much his thoughts are in a disarray, and because of the constant embarrassment he gets, making everything that he says come out as a command more than a request. He hates himself for it. His ever so composed self is crumbling, and this isn’t so like him.

He tells himself to calm the fuck down, arrange his thoughts and think straight or he might really freak out this ever-jolly woman. It’s already a miracle enough that the woman agreed to his clearly not-thought-through-well-enough request of a date, so he tries to settle himself down.

He saw her quickly nodding and fumbling with a notepad that was luckily near her, trying to write her number with shaking fingers feeling the scrutiny of his gaze. She gives him the paper and hurries to compose herself.

When he receives the paper and felt a slight contact with the skin of her hand, he feels an electrifying charge that went up his entire body. It was a foreign sensation he’s never felt before, and it makes him stop for a second trying to comprehend.

“I’ll text you the details,” he then says, not wanting to make this anymore awkward.

Sasuke leaves in a little hurried matter and goes straight to his car. Luckily, no one was out in the open anymore to see him and bother him. He’s been conflicted enough to deal with any persistent paparazzi or people at the moment.

When Sasuke finally settles in his car and locks the door, he allows himself to lean on the chair and let all the reality of what he did sink into himself, knowing that there is absolutely no backing out to whatever he started.

By the time Sasuke comes to his senses again, he puts the things he bought at the backseat along with his other things, and he starts the engine, going to the road.

And finally, he allows himself to breath in, and sigh a shaky breath, his hand slowly fisting as he smirks. He raises it slightly above his head and pulls it back down, a gesture of triumph as if he just won an award. A fist pump.

As if it was the greatest success of his life.

---------

Hello? This is Sasuke. read

oh sasuke uchiha! that’s right! what time will we meet up? read

Maybe around 11. read

and where? read

At the park, downtown. read

the park downtown…. read

Do you know it? read

kumo central park? read

Yeah. There. read

alrighty! see you tomorrow, sasuke uchiha read

See you too…? read

what is it? read

What’s your name again? read

haha! you ask me out on a date but you don’t know my name? read

Shut up. What is it anyway? read

it’s sakura sakura haruno read

… read

? read

Cliché. read

what? what’s that supposed to mean? what’s cliché uchiha!? hey! read

____________________________

Hi! so I’ve had this idea since forever and I’m contemplating about it so, just gonna post it out here for anyone who would see it!

#sasusaku fanfiction #sasusaku #naruto fanfiction #Sasuke Uchiha #Sakura Haruno #anime fanfic #just the prologue #or whatever

23 notes · View notes

canary3d-obsessed · 3 years

Text

Restless Rewatch: The Untamed, Episode 26, part two

(Masterpost) (Other Canary Stuff)

Warning! Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!

Content note: This episode has a lot of lightning, but this post does not have lightning flashes--I’m using mostly stills for those parts, or I’ve snipped out the unfriendly frames before giffing.

Qing-Jie

Having successfully ruined Jin Guangshan’s party plan to get the Yin Tiger seal, Wei Wuxian dashes off to tell Wen Qing where her brother is. She hops up to hit the road with him, but then sorta-faints because she’s starving. In a rare moment of tenderness between these two, he catches her and gently sits her down again.

Normally they’re busy out-toughing each other, both before and after this moment, but right now Wen Qing is openly vulnerable. Wei Wuxian responds to that, predictably, with all of his kindness and with his usual slew of unwise, impossible-to-keep promises.

As she eats the bread he’s brought her--a parallel to an important piece of bread in his early life--he says they have to believe in Wen Ning’s survival. Cut to: Wen Ning, not surviving.

I mean, yes, yes, he’s only mostly dead, but he’s never going to be fully alive again, so.

24 Hour Party People

Back at the party, Jin Guangyao, deliberately, I think, goes to offer his pops a drink while his pops is still super furious and looking for someone to take it out on. The servant lady is like, better you than me, pal, and helps JGY get his drink ready. Pops, predictably, knocks the drink onto Jin Guangyao.

(more behind the cut)

Lan Xichen is standing by with a hanky and a face full of worry. Lan Xichen is so Lanny that he thinks JGY needs to go change clothes after getting clear alcohol spilled on him, rather than just letting it evaporate and smelling pleasantly of booze for the rest of the evening like a normal party guest.

JGY launches into a criticism of Wei Wuxian, which Lan Wangji listens to very carefully, frowning. Lan Xichen, Nie Huasang and Jiang Cheng listen as well, and don’t speak up.

A Clear Conscience

Then Lan Wangji *literally* steps out of his brother’s shadow, and speaks in defense of Wei Wuxian. This right here is Lan Wangji’s turning point, as far as I’m concerned. Xichen is gazing at JGY, totally on board with JGY’s spin of the situation, and his shadow falls away from Lan Wangji’s face as LWJ steps forward.

Lan Wangji says, isn’t what WWX said true? JGY puts on his customer service smile and says that the truth isn’t something you’re supposed to go around saying out loud.

I’d like to say this is what’s wrong with cultivator society but this is really a universal human thing; every society has rules about upsetting the social order, and they are very frequently at odds with basic compassion and morality.

Nie Huaisang and Jiang Cheng stay silent but Lan Xichen goes and throws Wei Wuxian under the bus carriage, saying his character has changed.

Lan Wangji nods decisively at this, and bows to Lan Xichen, silently asking permission to follow Wei Wuxian. Lan Xichen grants permission, telling Lan Wangji to do his best. Lan Xichen probably thinks he and Lan Wangji are in agreement, in this moment, but that nod of Lan Wangji’s was nothing of the kind.

That nod was Lan Wangji agreeing with himself; he is going to try to bring Wei Wuxian back but he is also going to listen to him. Meanwhile Lan Xichen is tying himself in knots to appease Jin Guangyao. The divergence between the brothers will just grow, from this point onwards.

Lan Wangji leaves to go follow his boyfriend conscience, while Jiang Cheng continues to silently listen to the commentary of others, and gets so mad he crushes a wine cup.

It Was A Dark and Stormy Night.

Wen Qing and Wei Wuxian arrive at the prison camp, and the first person they encounter is Granny, with a defaced Wen Banner in her hand and Wen Yuan on her back.

Whenever I read a meta or a fic that talks about how the juniors are so sweet partly because they are “untouched by the war” I want to point to this moment. A-Yuan endures an absolute truckload of war trauma by the time he’s four years old, and while Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji both deserve a lot of credit for saving him at great risk to themselves, Granny and Uncle Four are the first heroes of A-Yuan’s story. His kind, mellow personality has a lot in common with theirs.

This is followed by an eternity of Wen Qing running around asking if anyone’s seen her brother. Eventually Wei Wuxian gets tired of this and gathers the guards together, threatening them with Chenqing.

He doesn’t need to play it; just holding it up has every Jin dude instantly kneeling and scared.

The guards send him and Wen Qing go to a giant field of corpses, where Wen Qing runs around checking to see if any of them is her brother. Wei Wuxian starts off kind of detached and angry, but eventually snaps out of it, tucks away his flute and starts helping her to search.

Wen Qing finds Wen Ning, mostly-dead with a lure flag speared into his belly. Wei Wuxian grimly takes in the situation from across the field of corpses.

When he arrives at Wen Qing’s side he sees this talisman in Wen Ning’s hand.

This is the talisman that Wei Wuxian made for Wen Ning back in Gusu summer school, before the war. It’s the one that Wen Ning was wearing at his waist when they met up after the massacre of Lotus Pier. It’s supposed to literally protect Wen Ning from having his spiritual consciousness snatched, as well as being a symbol of Wei Wuxian’s sense of responsibility for, and affection for, Wen Ning.

Wei Wuxian, understandably, loses his shit at this point. Less understandably, he is about to decide that the best way to express his sorrow and rage is to re-animate the corpse of his friend, right in front of the corpse’s sister. Like, seriously, dude. Dude.

Ghost General

This super-questionable decision leads to one of the most badass sequences in the show, which is unfortunately chock full of lightning flashes, so not everyone can watch it. Wei Wuxian and his flute and swirls of resentful energy come marching out of the darkness of the corpse field, back to the guards.

The guards have decided to slaughter all of the prisoners and then run away, which would be a good plan except they should really have skipped right to the running away part of things. When Wei Wuxian accuses them of killing the prisoner in the corpse field, they claim that the Wens have a habit of falling off of a hill and dying. Wei Wuxian can relate.

At this point Wei Wuxian summons up Wen Ning 2.0, ultra badass edition, who comes flying through the air with his odd, straight-armed fighting stance and cool solid-black eyes and rock-and-roll hair.

Soundtrack: *Four Sticks*

Wen Ning proceeds to whale on the guards and scare the shit out of his relatives.

Then Wen Qing shows up and begs Wei Wuxian to stop. She explains that Wen Ning is only mostly dead. Like, if he was fully dead would she be okay with this?

Wei Wuxian tries to reel Wen Ning in and realizes that he is not actually in control of Wen Ning. Ok, see, right from the first day of Wen Ning 2.0, WWX is aware that his control is iffy. Why does he think he’s going to be able to control him later?

Anyway, this is where we learn Wen Ning’s grown-up name is Wen Qionglin. Wei Wuxian yells this name, and Wen Ning looks up like a cat hearing the “food noise,” and then proceeds to get control of himself.

This is such a nice symbolic moment, that will be replayed later in the temple, when Wen Ning saves Jin Ling from Baxia.

Wen Ning has a remote-code-execution OS vulnerability throughout the story; his soul is at risk of being stolen, and he is magically controlled by Wei Wuxian, Xue Yang, Su She, and Baxia. Meanwhile Wen Qing, Wei Wuxian, and random kids on the street mostly treat him as a child, despite his clear adult capabilities. Wen Ning’s journey in The Untamed is at least partly about asserting his full adulthood, and his ability to overcome magical control is directly connected to that journey.

After getting Wen Ning to chill, Wei Wuxian calls the floating resentful energy back into his own body, which looks about as comfortable as swallowing a burp.

On the plus side, apparently resentful energy keeps your hair dry even when it’s raining.

Wei Wuxian should take a page from the guards’ book and slaughter all the Jin witnesses to this situation, but he decides to be the better person and let them live. They go running off down the road, where they encounter Lan Wangji and give him the 411, saying that Wei Wuxian resurrected dead people.

Meanwhile Wei Wuxian collects Wen Qing--half-fainted, again, in an echo of the start of their journey--and collects the Dafan Mountain Wen group, who are hiding, wisely. When they see Wen Ning, Uncle Four and some others start to freak out, but Wei Wuxian tells them that fierce corpses are cool, and they all grab horses and mount up.

Where Are You Going?

Lan Wangji is waiting for them, nonconfrontationally indulging in some visual poetry while he waits.

In a show where every prop is exquisitely, carefully designed to enhance our understanding character, his Gusu-toned umbrella reveals surprising red and yellow threads woven in, right above his eye line as he looks at Wei Wuxian.

Wei Wuxian speaks first, saying “you came to stop me?” Lan Wangji doesn’t answer, but asks him where he’s going. Then Lan Wangji warns him that he’s about to abandon orthodoxy forever, if he follows through.

Wei Wuxian challenges this idea of orthodoxy, asking if Lan Wangji remembers the promise they made together, back in Gusu. It’s worth noting that they both appear to think of it as a co-promise, even though Lan Wangji didn’t speak aloud at the time.

The conversation will continue in the next episode, because what’s better than a rainy romantic cliffhanger?

Soundtrack: Four Sticks by Led Zeppelin

#the untamed #the untamed gifs #wangxian #wen ning #restless rewatch the untamed #canary3d-original #my gifs #episode 26

197 notes · View notes

chelleztjs18 · 3 years

Text

Lost in Assistance - Ch. 5

Elizabeth Olsen x Fem!Reader

GIF: I do not own this GIF.

Summary: Y/n is a professional celebrity's personal assistant in Hollywood got hired with two years contract to be the assistant of the famous and talented Elizabeth Olsen / Lizzie by her manager. Both Y/n and Lizzie hate each other since day one, and they have mutual friend. One is as stubborn as the other, will Y/n stay when Lizzie gives attitudes and tries her best to make her quit before the contract ends?

Warning: fluff, angst, smut (in future chapters), swearing words ( +18 only)

All chapters

“Hey, I’m leaving now. Are you there yet?” Lizzie texted shortly after she turned on her car. “I’ll be there in 15 minutes.” Aubrey replied. “Okay, on my way. It won’t get me too long to get there.” She tossed her cell phone onto the passenger side seat and started to drive.

It’s almost lunch time hour, the traffic is getting undeniably more crowded. It’s typical L.A traffic with its uncertainty crowd flow on random parts here and there. While driving Lizzie starts to think about the meeting today. A part of her actually feels bad knowing that you might have heard what she said on the phone. Deep down she knows it’s not your fault to be caught in the middle of this whole matter. The more she thinks about it, the more it triggers her memory that your were actually the girl who smiled nicely to her at the coffee shop who didn’t do anything that made Lizzie get recognized when she was trying to not to be and that was why Lizzie nodded and smiled as an appreciation towards you.

Of course once her common sense slowly starts to get her to think in the right way, her stubbornness quickly erupts and plays with her emotion again. Especially when her memory rewinded the view when your left hand grabbed the pen and signed the contract even after she gave you a cold intimidating statement then it was followed by the memory of all of her conversations with Jane and her mom who hired you without her agreeing to it. It makes her feel that they don’t think she is old enough to deal with this situation. Her anxiety only makes her more emotional in handling this matter and forces her to dislike you even more and to think what she should do to make you quit.

All the thinking while driving clearly makes it feels faster to get to the restaurant where she's meeting Aubrey. She parked her car, then walked into this quiet restaurant. She was greeted by the host then she explained she is meeting her friend here as her green eyes are searching for where Aubrey sits. “Lizzie! Over here!” Aubrey’s voice quickly caught her attention. Lizzie sees her sitting at the table in the patio and walks to her.

“Hey, how are you? It took longer to get here than you thought huh?” She gave Lizzie a hug. “Hey, how are you? Yeah, sorry, I got caught in a little traffic.” Lizzie sighed then she took a seat. The girls order some food and drink to accompany them while they are catching up.

“Sooo, what's up with your text yesterday. What do you want to figure out together with me? From your text, I can feel you were upset.” Aubrey starts the conversation. “Really? You can sense how I feel from my text?” Lizzie rolled her eyes playfully. “Of course, we are best friends, more like a soulmate I think but seriously what’s going on?” She joked around but tried to dig into what's going on at the same time.

Lizzie starts with a sigh and takes a sip of her drink. “Do you remember when I told you that Jane and my mom are thinking of getting me a new personal assistant?”

“Yeah? They still talk about it with you?” Aubrey said as she took a bite of her food.

“Even worse! They hired one already regardless of the fact that I said that I don't need one. I met her this morning. She came by with Mitchel Elrod to sign the contract and everything. Turns out she is his best friend.” Lizzie explained with huge annoyance.

“Oh yeah, I remember him. I got my assistant from his company. Does she know how you feel about this thing?”

“Oh that part, she might have heard what I said when I was talking with you on the phone this morning because I didn’t know that she was sitting in front of me in the waiting room. I felt terrible actually but then in the meeting I was thinking fuck it so I told her bluntly straight to her face that I actually don’t need her and I’m here because I’m forced to give it a try so this better be worth it.” Lizzie put her head to her hands, her thumbs massage her temples a little bit.

Aubrey gasped, “No you did not! Then what did she say?” Aubrey got so invested with what’s going on.

“Nothing really. She just said she hopes I like the way she works. That’s all. I was hoping she would change her mind and say no to work for me after what I said to her, but then she signed everything like she was trying to say “challenge accepted” to me.” Lizzie motions an air quote then takes another sip of her drink to calm herself down. “It’s like a competition to me now. This just made me doesn’t like her more.” She added.

“So I need your help to figure out how to make her quit because the contract said it can be terminated if there is a mutual agreement from both parties. So if one day she says she wants to quit, I will agree to it and boom! Case close!” Lizzie told her idea with confidence.

“Why are you trying so hard anyway? I meant Jane and your mom have a point. She will be very busy, they just want someone to help to provide your needs at work. You're gonna have a few busy years sister with all the upcoming filmings and others. It’s for your own sake I guess.” Aubrey shrugged as she tried to talk Lizzie out.

“Oh my God! Aubrey, you are supposed to be on my side. The problem is my anxiety. It’s hard to adjust with new people. This is also about how they don’t listen to my opinion or what I want. They hired her without finalizing it with me first.” Lizzie explains in frustration.

“It’s also about your ego isn’t it?” Aubrey added as she knows her best friends very well.

“They know you would still say no even if they asked you before they hired her and honey I really understand your anxiety, I'm so sorry. Okay, I’ll help you. Why don’t you just give her hard times at work? Give her “hell” at work.” She suggested.

“And how do I do that?” Lizzie asked in confusion.

“I don’t know. Just be as bitchy as you can, ask ridiculous things. Make her do stuff that doesn’t make sense. So basically gets on her nerves every single day, I guess. Be difficult, you know what I meant.” Aubrey continues with her suggestions.

“I think you are right! Aubrey you are a genius! Thank you!”

“What would you do without me?” Aubrey rolls her eyes joking around. “Anyway, what’s her name again? How does she look?” All of this conversation made Aubrey curious and pulled out her phone.

“Y/n Y/l/n. She looks okay and well dressed. A little taller than me. She’s - “ Aubrey all of a sudden cuts her off before she can even finish her sentence.

“Wait! what?! Y/n Y/L/n?” Aubrey is as surprised as she can be, then looks at her phone and shows it to her confused friend. “Is this her?” Lizzie squints her eyes as she takes a look at the social media account profile Aubrey shows her. “YES! That’s her. Wait, how do you know? Please don’t tell me you know her too.” Lizzie covers her face with both of her hands as a sign of frustration.

“Actually, Yes I know her. I know her from a mutual friend quite a while ago. She also introduced me to Mitchel. I didn’t know she came back to work with him. I haven’t seen her for a while, we just sometimes text each other here and there just to say hi.”

“Aww, she hasn’t really changed. I always like the way she dresses and her good taste of music. Look, isn’t she cute?” Aubrey smirked jokingly as she continued checking Y/n’s social media on her phone and showed it to Lizzie.

“What are you talking about Aubrey? Cute or not, it doesn’t change the fact that I’m upset with this whole situation and I already do not like her, besides I don’t date girls. I’m dating Robbie. You know that! So can you focus here please?" Lizzie snapped her finger to regain Aubrey's attention back to the main topic.

“Haha, okay chill. I was just joking because you are so tense right now. You are dating Robbie but it doesn't look or feel like you guys are dating. You both barely spend time together. He is too busy with his band and his tours. You know what? I started to think he dates you just to boost his fame.” Aubrey casually points out her opinion to her best friends.

“Aubrey, I’m here not to talk about my relationship.” Lizzie reminded her why they are there.

“Okay okay!” Aubrey laughed. “Anyway, I don’t think I can help you to give more ideas to annoy y/n at work. I love you but I didn’t know it was Y/n you were talking about. She’s my friend too, I can't do that to her. At least I gave you the idea in the beginning but just considered I never tell you anything. Sorry babe, I hope you understand.”

“That’s too bad but okay, I understand.” She pouted but she can’t complain because at least Aubrey already gave her a little rough idea what to do.

The girls used the chance to also catch up with each other’s life but unfortunately it has to come to an end as one of them has to go home.

“Okay Liz, sorry I gotta go. I’ll see you when I see you, okay. Remember, don’t hate her too much if you don’t want to end up falling for her. Well that was what old people used to say, I think.” Aubrey teased Lizzie while giving her a goodbye hug.

“Aubrey stop! That won’t happen. See you soon. Thanks for the help.” Lizzie hugs her goodbye. Lizzie then got into her car and pulled her phone out.

“Hey Y/n, this is Elizabeth Olsen. On friday, we are supposed to drive together to my photoshoot location. Meet me at the office at 6 AM. We’ll take your car from there. Oh, don’t forget my coffee. The one I like. It’s on the list.” Lizzie texted Y/n with no signs of compromise in text.

“Hi. Ms. Olsen, I thought the schedule was at 8 AM but okay, I will meet you there at 6 AM on Friday, with your coffee.” Agreeing is all y/n can do. It’s the first day of work anyway, what’s the worst could happen.

Ch. 6

194 notes · View notes

hansoulo · 3 years

Text

whisper scarcely breathing

part four of “Pillar of Salt”

Pairing: Boba Fett/Princess!Reader (she/her pronouns, no Y/N)

Warnings: NC-17, NSFW, explicit language, mentions of canon-typical violence, fluff, hurt/comfort but without the hurt, bathing and/or being bathed, choking, female-receiving oral, loss of virginity, unprotected M/F intercourse

Word Count: 6.1k

Image Credit: (x) by @/365filmsbyauroranocte, not meant to be a representation of the reader

A/N: this one is for the boys with the boomin’ system 😩💦

༓ series masterlist ༓

The datapad that you’d left in the garden was thrust back into your possession one morning by the hurried hands of a maid. Truthfully, you had forgotten all about it. The mind, when faced with matters as pressing as the press of a mouth, tends to forget about inconsequential objects.

You’d never met the girl standing in front of you before, and she avoided your eyes while passing over the small screen. She seemed eager to be rid of it. You couldn’t say you blamed her. “‘S yours, miss. The bounty hunter said you’d lost it.”

Did he, now?

“Thank you,” you replied sincerely, careful not to let the datapad drop to the floor as you tucked it back into the deep brocade of your gown pockets. You didn’t have the wherewithal at first to ask her when he’d found it or found the time to return it. But you also didn’t have the common sense to keep your mouth shut. “Could I ask when he gave it to you?”

The servant ducked her head. “This morning, your Highness. I- I was in the loading bay when they left, think he was tryin’ to get a hold of you but didn’t have the time, told me- told me to keep quiet ‘bout it.” A bob of her throat signalled a nervous swallow. “Princess.”

Poor girl, you thought to yourself absentmindedly. Boba probably scared her half out of her wits.

“Really, I can’t thank you enough.” You touched a soft hand to the servant’s shoulder in an misguided attempt to soothe. She returned the action with a nervous smile, eyes still downcast and trying not to shy away.

You never realized how afraid they all were. Of you.

The realization made your tongue tangle in your throat, tripping over some lie about a fever and champagne-induced amnesia as explanation for your exchanges with a man so ill-acquainted.

Hopefully, the maid didn’t make a habit of gossip.

Hopefully, you stopped making a habit of Boba Fett.

⫸———————————————— ⫷

A chaincode, a datapad tracking number, and the rest of your life flashed in backlit neon. You silently cursed yourself for not putting an opening passcode on anything, including the datapad that you now held with slightly tremoring hands.

In your defense, it’s not like it held anything of interest. Mostly just holonovels and some pictures of things you found intriguing enough to want to paint or draw.

But now there was a thing of veritable interest stuffed into a new folder titled “Your Highness” and glowing in galactic basic.

BF-18378-3263827

You stared at the numbers until they morphed into a strong, stern-featured face, muddy in your imagination against the ink night invading your bedroom. Boba left his tracking number there for you. If you wanted to, you could use them to message him or comm him or leave a holoprojection message. Whenever you wanted. Right now, even.

When did he even find your datapad? Why he found it (and why he returned it with the aforementioned numerical contraband) was probably a more apt question.

There was quite a lot to think about. Best to take stock of the present moment, lest you lose your head and go completely mad. As if you hadn’t already.

The facts repeated themselves in a half-conscious mantra, screen slipping out of your hands and onto the pillow beside your head. Facts. Facts were good. What were the facts, again?

Boba Fett was arguably the most dangerous bounty hunter in the galaxy.

Boba Fett was not much of a talker.

Boba Fett was a piss-poor dancer.

And Boba Fett was an unfairly good kisser.

The beginning three points held little negative sway, with the first adding much more appeal than it should, the second a welcome relief, and the third being… sort of endearing.

It was on the last point that your mind lingered the longest.

You didn’t even realize you’d copied numbers into the screen’s communications system until its microphone crackled to life.

One breath, two breaths, stuck in your sleep-thick throat. No words from either side yet. Did you get the tracking code wrong? Maybe. Maybe.

Maybe you were dreaming already, imagining the wind outside to be the quiet, husky inhale that sounded from the other end of the receiver.

“Not falling asleep are we, princess?”

Your eyes shot open. “No. No, I’m…” the words croaked themselves out as you fought down a yawn, “I’m awake.” His low chuckle. “I called you didn’t I?”

“That you did,” Boba assented. Quiet amusement colored his accent. “And you called because…”

“I wanted to,” you said simply, without room for teasing. You were too sleepy to be ashamed of admitting you sought out his company, as foolish as doing so was. No use in hiding what both parties knew to be true.

He let out a noise of soft approval and it rumbled a pleasant sunburst between your ears. “You seem to want a lot of things, don’t you?”

Makes me want… want…

Want what, Princess?

Want you.

You can have me.

The memory snaked a fever flush down your neck, over the still-tender skin and lightly mottled marks. Boba was remembering it just as well as you were. You knew he was.

It gave you a rush, a weird sort of power trip. Because as stupid as you felt doing this, wanting this, he wanted it too. Enough to let your hands thread through his hair and around his arms, then to the scar above his left brow and across his mouth. Enough to let you do it again at the risk of being caught. Enough to leave you his tracking number, like you were two teenagers trading love letters and not legal adults with judgement better enough to do otherwise.

You stayed on the comm for two hours, and only went to sleep because Boba threatened to cut your link off if you didn’t.

⫸———————————————— ⫷

It had been almost five standard months since the first time you’d spoken. Typed words continued to be exchanged under your covers, day after day, night after night. Sometimes you’d fall asleep talking, peppering him with questions about his ship and his job until your throat ached with the effort of keeping yourself awake. Sometimes you did more than talk.

He never fell asleep. Never seemed to sleep, period.

What a strange man. Strange, dangerous, interesting man.

You often missed each other by a hair’s breadth. Courtly flurry and galactic bounty hunting didn’t make much space for private conversation. Boba was still taciturn. You were still naive.

And yet…

You liked him. He listened when you talked about botany and painting, neither of which you imagined interested him. He was arrogant and cocky and insufferable sometimes, but he listened. He told you about his job and regaled your sheltered curiosity with lurid, gory details. He told you about his father.

And one day he somehow, miraculously, had a set of Nabooan watercolors left for you in the garden.

Biting down a juvenile grin with every new message, you watched the quiet ping! of the datapad.

Hello

are you busy?

In a way

how so

Had a brush with Hutt’s rancor

poor thing

Don’t get soft on me now

wasn’t talking about you

Very funny

I’m very, very sorry

Should be. The bastard nearly tore up my flight suit

… show me?

⫸———————————————— ⫷

BF-18378-3263827 HAS ATTACHED 3 FILES

⫸———————————————— ⫷

HOLOCALL DURATION: 02:45:35 HOURS

SAVE CALL RECORDING? PRESS YES/NO TO CONFIRM

Your damp hands tremored.

YES

⫸———————————————— ⫷

Six months, four days, and 20 hours. That’s how long it took for you to see Boba Fett again.

You’d started to think the entire ordeal was a mirage, an illusionary experience your brain conjured up for you as a one-time brush with what your life could have been. Who it could’ve been with.

But you did see him again. Foolhardy, reckless, and unplanned.

You didn’t listen to his explanation about having to leave in the morning, taking some third-rate bounty as an excuse to come back to Quas Killam for the first time in what seemed like ages—practically eons since his mouth had last been at your neck. He appeared on your bedroom balcony near midnight like an apparition, mounted by a still-burning jetpack that shut off with an arc of smoke.

You’d been sleeping, albeit fitfully, and woke the minute his knuckles rapped against the glass. You didn’t remember ever telling him where your bedchambers were, but given… everything… you couldn’t say you were surprised he knew. When he crouched down to shed the helmet, it made a soft thump on the plush carpet.

And then you kissed. And kissed. And kissed.

Boba’s fingertips dragged fire across your prickled skin with every pass. Whose breathing was whose didn’t matter. It was hard, heaving, and shared. Eyes closed, lips raw, every part of you dizzy. Dizzy.

The sneeze that left you was loud enough to knock his forehead against yours. Hard.

Feet stumbling until your legs hit the bedspread, you let your weakened knees carry you down into a sitting position atop the covers and tried to catch your breath. Boba only chuckled, seemingly unperturbed by the mild injury.

Of course your body had picked today to come down with a cold. And of course you’d forgotten to tell him.

In your defense (you seemed to do a lot of self-defending these days) you didn’t know Boba would be coming tonight. When you asked him a week ago—the last time you’d spoken—he’d said “soon.” Whatever “soon” meant, you hadn’t anticipated it being now. Your rumpled nightgown and deteriorating personal hygiene was evidence enough of that.

The day had passed in fitful naps, with you waving away all attempts at help until the servants who usually tittered about decided to give you a wide berth until tomorrow. They’d left the door locked and your curtains drawn, thank the gods.

“A hello would’ve been nice,” you mumbled. The lingering taste of him in your mouth mixed with the bitter medicine that you’d forced down a few hours ago.

Boba didn’t answer at first, only stalking forward with his silhouette glowing in light of the full moon. You brought your knees up to your chest to make room for him to stand in front of you. Every movement was bathed in slowness, in the reverence of caution and night-time silence.

His gloved hand brushed against your chin and tilted it upwards, thumb rubbing a small circle into your jawbone as he moved your face in one large grip. Left, inspecting a swollen mouth and puffy eyes, then right. Up to see the column of your exposed neck. Down to meet his bare, dark face.

He kissed you again, more gentle this time. “Hello.”

A soft whimper left your throat.

Oh, you hated it. Hated the way you sounded when he touched you, small and pathetic. Needy.

The balustrade doors were still open, and this fact was made known by a particularly biting gust of silver wind.

“You’re cold,” the man standing close to you noted with a deep downquirk of his mouth. Boba never had to conceal anything; his helmet did that for him. But when it was off, every thought flickered past his face in evening technicolor.

Your hands paused in their run up your arms to hold petulantly at your elbows, covered only by the thin fabric of your shift. Goosebumps rose against your neck with a new breeze and you fought down the urge to shiver. “M’not.”

“And stubborn.”

You glared at him, but it held no real venom.

“I appreciate the concern,” you sniffled again and your body trembled slightly. “But I’m the picture of health. I really have never been—” here you sneezed rather violently, crumbling any remaining sense of composure and making the final words thick with congestion, “—any better.” Boba hooked two strong arms underneath your knees and around your shoulders. “Wh- what are you doing?”

“C’mon,” Boba grunted and lifted you to his chest in one swift, easy motion. “Up.”

“I’m already up,” you grumbled, a headache you’d thought was all but gone now throbbing from the quick movement. Armor pressed to your cheek and you let yourself go pliant, curling up into Boba’s broad chest. He smelled nice. Like the outdoors. The real outdoors—not manufactured gardens or stone courtyards. No, dangerous things. Like deserts and leather and guns.

You queried him as he walked in long strides across the room. “Where are you taking me? Should have you—” another sneeze burned your airways, “—have you arrested for treason. A high crime or misdemeanor of some sort, kidnapping royalty...”

He only scoffed, shifting your slack body into his one-armed grip when he arrived at the entrance of your adjunct refresher. The door opened with a soft click. “You talk too much.”

Your head rolled back to face him, pressed so close already that the attempt made you cross-eyed. “And you,” a polished finger jabbed lightly at his chest plate, “are up to no good.”

You were only joking, but Boba didn’t deny it.

Green was your favorite color, even before you met him. It was the color of gardens. Of mint leaves. Of insects and jewels. Of him.

Gods, he was beautiful. Did he know that? Would he ever believe you if you told him? He was achingly, painfully, humanly beautiful. It hurt like needles.

The man set you down to your immediate protests. Funny how quick you seemed to change your mind. “Don’t whine,” he chided when you did just that, pushing you forward by the small of your back.

You walked into the refresher confused, that same confusion compounding when Boba strode over to the marble bathtub in room’s center with a surety that belayed the fact he’d never once stepped foot inside here. Were all bounty hunters this self-assured? Or was he just so full of bathroom bravado that your sprawling floor-plan didn’t faze him?

Whatever the case was, said bounty hunter was now crouched down on the tile floor and twisting the tub faucets until they sprayed out a gush of hot water, quickly filling the room with heady steam.

“Hot water helps.” A still-gloved hand dipped an inch into the filling tub and deemed it acceptable. “The steam’ll clear up those sneezes of yours. And the headache.”

“How did you know I-” your mouth opened and closed before you realized you didn’t do a great job of hiding your symptoms. Maker knows you looked a sight, all mussed and tired and sticky with cold sweat. He should make a run for it now, you half-joked to yourself. He’s only ever seen me stuffed into a corset and done up half to death.

He got up with a grunt and turned back towards you. Beskar and durasteel and tactical fabric suddenly made you feel, for the first time in your life, underdressed. “‘S not hard to tell, princess.”

“Oh,” was your only response as you pushed off the sink counter, fisting the fabric of your nightgown in an unconscious display of hesitancy.

Boba’s heavy boots made for the door.

It was probably just to leave you some semblance of privacy, but you panicked, not wanting to be left alone now that he was finally here. “Wait!” you burst out, reaching a palm onto his shoulder before he could exit. “Wait. Can— can you stay?” Of course he won’t stay, you dolt. He probably came to sleep with you, not babysit you. “Please?”

Both of his hands curled into themselves when he turned back to you, their leather squeaking in the tight flex. Then, they released limp by his sides. Each word was carefully measured, slow-simmering like a pot about to boil over. Like a trigger finger twitchy on a blaster. “If you want me to.”

You answered with a bobbing nod and a swallow. “I do.”

⫸————————————————⫷

Boba Fett had long since forgotten he was a man. Instead, he was armor. He was a code, a set of strict (albeit grey) morals, the steadfast honor he’d been imbibed with from the years with his father and then the years of tearing emptiness after.

Bounty hunters had no time for attachments. They couldn’t afford to humor every batting eyelash with more than a self-serving flirtation, and he’d had his fill of those already. He’d overflowed his cup ten times over with shallow pleasantries and quick release.

But those days were long-gone. Had been for years now. Now he was practically puritanical.

Had been, anyway.

He didn’t like thinking of himself as impulsive, wanting to leave the trait behind in his younger years but not being old enough to shake it off completely. But he wasn’t impulsive anymore. He wasn’t.

You were going to destroy him.

Low-ranking royalty on some Imperial-occupied factory planet; sheltered and pretty. You had the brightest eyes he had ever seen and a temperament that took no prisoners, and you were going to destroy him.

Boba thought you’d make him leave, but you didn’t. You wanted him to stay and told him so.

So he stayed. His armor was peeled off in your presence for the first time— carefully placed on a chair in your bedroom—and he walked back into the refresher to see you untying your flimsy nightdress like it’d done you a personal wrong.

When it dropped beside your feet, it took every ounce of self-control Boba possessed to stop himself from eating you whole.

He heard you kick it to the floor (his eyes had since been very determinedly fixed on a fascinating piece of groutwork near his left foot) before you stepped into the bath, sighing in a way that made breathing a work harder than it should’ve been.

His looking away wasn’t a request on your part, you didn’t seem to mind either way, but he didn’t trust himself to do otherwise. Not until the sounds of splashing had subsided somewhat, signalling your stilled motion. “Boba?”

Now there was permission to walk. Look down. Right foot, left foot. Right foot, left foot. Right foot, the clawfoot of the bathtub. He had reached his destination.

A wet hand tugged at his belt loops and he finally allowed himself to look, meeting the sight of you sitting bare in the clear-blue water with legs pulled up to your chest. The arm not touching him was roped around your calves. Your chin rested on the wide, curved lip of the tub.

If Boba had any self-respect, it had been snuffed out the first moment you opened your mouth, six months ago in that cavernous palace hallway with your failed attempt at bravado. It was haughty, short-lived, and adorable.

Maker, you were beautiful. Did you know that? Would you ever believe him if you told you? You were blindingly, effervescently, humanly beautiful. It hurt like needles.

The position of your chin forced your lips into a slight pout. As if you needed another weapon in your arsenal of ways to make him question his judgement. “Could you bring me the tray on the counter?”

Of course he could. He could bring you anything you liked. He would bring you a rancor, a dozen rancors, a fucking sarlaac if it meant you would smile all soft-like the way you just did when he answered yes.

Boba Fett, mercenary feared farther than he would ever live to travel and hunter too expensive for the Imperial payroll, was now a bath attendant. It was torturous in its sensual irony.

The tray was brought over in short order, cluttered with tiny vials of Maker-knows-what and bars of who-knows-how. Individually they probably all smelled nice, but crowded together the heavy scents only made his head spin. He set the tray down on the floor with a rattle and held up each mystery soap for your inspection. No. No. No. No, not that one. Gods, you were picky. No. No. Yes, please.

You were Miss Manners tonight apparently.

“It’s floating archidia,” you told him, mind running through an endless backlog of plant indexes as he handed over the soap. You sounded clearer now, less congested and more alert. Needed to drink water, though. “The flower that this is made with, I mean. Native to the planet Nubia, rumored to have euphoric properties.” You snorted and ran a thumbnail along the bar’s waxy edge, bringing up a curled pink piece. “Whatever that means.”

“Do you think it does?”

“Have euphoric properties?” you hummed, considering it for a moment. “Maybe. But maybe it’s just wishful thinking.”

“Wishful thinking,” Boba parroted.

The meaning of words can change when they’re repeated. Neither of your minds were on flowers.

His jaw tensed when you reached your other hand to his forearm, baring the rest of your body to the dim orange of the refresher lights’ night settings. The water rippled, warm now instead of steaming, and your fingers curled around the scarred skin of his wrist. “Take off the gloves,” you echoed, your voice suddenly desperate and distant as you traced over pale leather seams. “Please.”

He had refused the first time simply to toy with you. You weren’t used to being told no, and it showed. But he let you take off his helmet in a moment of thoughtless self-indulgence, scratching the part of his subconscious that itched to be touched, stroked, held. Shedding the helmet in front of someone else didn’t really mean anything in an honorable sense—at least not to Boba. Nothing tied him to the habit except a desire to keep himself and his motivations unknown. It was easier that way. Less messy.

He acquiesced. "Since you asked so nicely."

Wrinkling your nose, you guided newly-bare palms to knead gently at your shoulder blades. The skin there was soft and warm, pliant under his sandpaper touch. "Keep mentioning it and I'll go back to being difficult."

The soap made foamy bubbles across your back, over your arms and the velvet slope of your hips. Fingertips ghosted through the space between your jaw and ear, where he remembered sucking in a soft bruise.

He liked being known by you.

⫸————————————————⫷

You clambered out the tub with all the grace of a baby krugga deer and about as much shame. Which is to say, none at all. The subsiding cold had left you tired, bones like jelly and mind sloshing its thoughts around with no real order. Boba was here. Had stayed. Was standing in front of you now, watching tiny water droplets trail down your feet and letting you balance on his arm to keep you from stumbling.

A towel was wrapped around your shoulders. The press of his hot mouth against your forehead followed close behind. “Go sit on the bed.”

For some reason, you didn’t mind listening to him this time. Chalk it up to moldable exhaustion, you thought. Definitely not the fact that his voice sounded especially nice tonight, or any number of other questionable reasons.

He was going to ruin you. Or you would ruin yourself. Any way it was construed, Boba would play a part.

Still only in a towel, you drank the stale tea that sat on your bedside table and watched in mild interest as the mercenary’s shadow emptied out tepid bathwater with the thick glugluglug of the drain. It washed down soap and all your shared secrets.

Was it wrong that you still wanted him? More, now that he’d done this for you? Now that it wasn’t just cruel kisses and groping hands? What sort of a person did that make you?

Your mind whispered it when Boba walked back towards you. Someone lonely.

He helped you slide a new chemise on when you asked him to, quick and steady over the thin linen ties. I bet you do that with all the girls, you’d teased. No, he answered simply. Just you.

He was going to ruin you.

“Do you have to go yet?” you asked quietly and climbed under the covers. They were green today. Life enjoyed coincidences like that.

Boba crouched down on the floor beside your lying figure and shook his head. A wide fingertip smoothed away the crease between your brows. He was doing lots of touching. You were not complaining. “Not ‘til morning.”

“You might as well then,” you mumbled and lifted up the embroidered blankets with a sleep-slack hand. “No one’ll bother us, I promise.” you answered the empty air, too heartsick to comprehend any possible insinuations and too tired to realize the fingers tracing your brow bone had paused. “I told them all not to come back until tomorrow.”

His shirt and pants were shed in an unceremonious pile. You were already half-asleep when he climbed into the other side of the bed, slotting his legs against yours like puzzle pieces. Two question marks curled into each other, his chest to your back and his lips brushing your head.

“Goodnight, princess.”

⫸————————————————⫷

You were dreaming about him.

He was the burning sun that every single one of your thoughts had orbited around for the last six months and now he was invading your subconscious, dream-talons taking the form of dark hands rubbing soft circles against you and then invading your open mouth.

In your dream, Boba touched you softly and not at all, a tease even in your self-serving imagination.

Then you woke up, and it wasn’t a dream anymore.

Two thick arms encircled your waist with a grip unyielding in their strength. They’d pulled you impossibly close, pressed up against his sleeping body until every ridge of his muscled stomach could be felt against your back. Something else was against your back.

Your head reeled in its effort to sludge through the fog of sleep and reach the reality of masculine hips. They shifted in an unintentional grind against your legs until you couldn’t bite back the gasp that bubbled out from your voicebox, the sound quiet, keening, and lost in the shuffled sounds of fabric. It was still dark out. The water-clock in the corner of your room read 01:25:02.

You hadn’t put on anything underneath the new chemise. Why bother, when he’d already seen everything? Your body had grown to be a thing for display, a clothes-hanger and object to be prodded by strangers, and you’d long since rid yourself of any precocious modesty.

But this was different.

When Boba touched you, it wasn’t to sew flowers in your hair or drape a sash over your chest. It was simply to touch. The thought made you light-headed with newfound embarrassment, wiggling in his grip until you turned to face his sleeping form.

All the heavy things he carried on his shoulders during the day were gone now. His bottom lip pillowed out when he slept and he looked younger, the perpetual downturn of his lips now settled below the black hair at his temples. You felt a sticky sort of fondness settle in your chest.

“Boba,” you whispered, two hands placing themselves on his tanned cheeks. They traced the divots of scars and premature lines with all the reverence of worshipfulness.

“Mmm,” his voice rumbled with eyes still closed. A warm mouth kissed the side of your palm.

“Boba,” you repeated, more desperate this time but not knowing what you were desperate for. The space between your legs already knew what it wanted, hot and pulsing with a familiar dampness. Traitor.

“What do you need?” The question wasn’t accusatory, nor annoyed at your waking him. It was known that he would give you whatever you liked. Eventually.

You. Just you.

“I don’t,” you huffed, the fabric sticking uncomfortably to your now overheated body as you squirmed, “I don’t know.” Lie.

“Think about it and tell me,” he whispered, eyes opening in their dark, heavy-lidded expectation. The moon and stars suspended outside offered light enough to see the smirk on his face. His skin was the color of burnt earth and of gods. Somewhere, far away in the canopy of carefully pruned trees, a single lark let out its warbled cry.

There was an old adage about being like a lamb to the slaughter. You’d never touched a lamb. Never seen a slaughter. But somehow, you knew it was true.

This lamb, dumb and tender-hearted, was willingly sacrificied.

"I...'' the word left you in the arc of your exhale, one whoosh of air that rattled your chest already wracked with fevered tremors. "I- want you to-"

"You want me to what, pretty thing?" His voice was low, dangerous. It made every part of you want him more. "Say it."

You weren't used to cursing. It was never tolerated and you barely ever heard it, but you'd learned enough to know what he wanted you to say. Which word he wanted to hear, and what it'd mean he would do.

"F-fuck. Me." you choked out, biting your lip to muffle the embarrassment of having to speak it out loud. The word was filthy and raw between your teeth. "Please?"

⫸————————————————⫷

You were dying. Possibly had already died. Were ascending up or barrelling down, you didn’t care as long as his wet mouth stayed between your legs and never, ever stopped.

Wide hands cupped at your skin and kneaded wherever they could reach, simultaneously rough and supplicating. Every pass of his tongue was enough to make you feel possessed. He was killing you.

“Good. Good girl.” he said against your swollen skin when your hips arced off the bed, your spine and toes stiffening for what seemed like an eternity during the damp lightning finish. It sounded like a growl, animalistic and vibrating. A burning, sweet hurt.

Some people call it “little death,” a lady’s maid once whispered underneath her hand in a giggle. “Little death?” you repeated incredulously. That seems a bit dramatic, don’t you think?

You understood now.

Boba didn’t let up, never once letting his touch waver even as you buckled and swayed, all sense lost and all sensation compacting. “Another,” he ordered. Your body listened, bending to his touch without complaint with eyes rolled back into your head.

You were dying.

⫸————————————————⫷

Boba let you lay against him in the downturn, rubbing mindless shapes into the bone of your wrists as you struggled to breathe. Your neck was cradled in one of his broad, bronze palms. It gave one tiny, imperceptible squeeze. An accident. A test.

You pawed at the hand resting heavy on your nape until it moved to leave completely, but was caught instead by your fingers and guided—slow and curious—to cup at your bared throat.

“Dirty,” the man noted in a dark rasp and rolled over to face you. There was a slight smirk in his voice, but that could’ve just been your imagination.

“I don’t see you...” your voice trailed off into a wheeze as Boba’s thick fingers pressed into the sides of your neck, “—see you complaining.”

He kissed you. And kissed you. And kissed you. An eternity was spent opening the seam of your mouth while he choked you softly, baring your pulsating soul with only your bedroom walls as witness to the present depravity. The air was filled with begging and grunting—simple noises that stuttered and left your sheets ruined.

You wanted more. You couldn’t help it.

His chuckle morphed into a groan when you reached down to touch him with widening eyes, squeezing him curiously after pulling down his boxers. “You’re a brave little thing,” Boba noted with a hint of greedy pride. “Never done this before, have you?”

Your own hands served as poor substitutes all these years. You shook your head no.

“D’you want to?”

Of course you did. This was the only thing you wanted. The only thing you would ever want, over and over until your body turned to dust under him. A million grains of fizzy, burning blaster powder. A million comets passing by a supernova.

You nodded and tucked your face into the space between Boba’s shoulder and neck, rolling onto your side and hooking a leg over his hip. Your chests met, damp with sweat as cool air flowed over bare skin. The covers had long since been pushed aside. “Safe,” you said in a heady moan over the shell of his ear. “Implant.”

Thank goodness for modern medicine.

⫸————————————————⫷

It hurt a little at first, but most of the discomfort melted away as he whispered to you, sweet and cloying praises alongside filthy things that you’d be hard-pressed to repeat in public. They wove together in an endless stream of baritone vowels, lapping over each other like ocean waves until everything was a gyrating, syrupy playback.

He let you move against him, mouth open and sloppy against your temple when you whined at the stretch. The hands at your back didn’t push. Only placated. “I know, I know,” Boba assured you with fingers rubbing sympathetic desire into your flesh. It would bruise, but you’d come to like the marks. Your hips bucked at their own accord when he pressed up against something tight, the friction burning a bright, numb spark. “Slow down,” he mumbled into your hair, “You’re gonna hurt yourself.”

Never in your life did you think this was how it would be. Your first kiss, more of a battle than it was a kiss, served as fuel for the expectations of your first time. Never in your life did you think he would be the one telling you to go slow.

It was for your sake, you knew that. But it was still surprising.

You huffed and bit the shell of his ear in childish revenge, blowing a puff of air where you knew it would tickle. Boba only growled and tightened his arms around your waist, rocking into you slow and deep. “Don’t tease,” he warned.

The new movements robbed you of the ability to speak until all you could do in response was lift your head from where it had rested on his shoulder, meeting impossibly dark eyes in lust-addled vision as a building pressure colored the entire world in shades of black, red, and green.

In a moment of complete and utter lack of propriety, you leaned forward, smiling like a woman deranged, and pressed a kiss to his nose.

Boba came undone the same minute you did. It was a rush of wet, rocking pleasure, spreading like thick webs of lighted fire from inside your blood and out to fill the room with quiet devotion. Panting, bursting, close, messy. You’d never felt so whole.

Your foreheads met and you went cross-eyed trying to look at him again. That’s all you wanted to do. Look at him. Uttered underneath his jaw, where the skin was smooth, was your finishing admission. “I love you.”

You didn’t say it to hear it repeated. It was just to give it a shape. Make it concrete. Said more to yourself than him, really.

But Boba did repeat it. Over and over and over. In the tangle of your arms. I love you. In the kiss to your breasts. I love you. In the towel brought between your legs. I love you. In the settled silence of new sleep. I love you, I love you, I love you.

⫸————————————————⫷

The watery light of dawn melted through heavy curtains and you awoke, body weighed down with lead and gold. Sweet soreness had made its home in your muscles and you were loath to get up, but the man you’d been using as a pillow had very rudely left his post.

“I have to go,” he said, already awake and standing sentry by your bed. You raised your head up from the pillows in groggy protest to meet his blurry figure. If you squinted, there were three of him standing there at once.

A shake of your head rid your vision of the doubles, leaving the lone man. He kissed you—quick and dirty, with tongue—and squeezed your exposed breast, prompting a low moan to tumble from your mouth before he slipped his blaster into the holster at his hip. It wasn’t even 6 in the morning and you were thoroughly debauched. What a scandal, you thought (not for the first time) with passing amusement. A bounty hunter and a princess.

Watching in a dim haze as Boba finished strapping on his amor, you tracked the reflection of the sun in the metal’s lazy movement.

He leaned over you. “I’ll be back soon.” Soon. What did soon mean? Another kiss, slow and careful on the bow of your mouth. One more on the slope of your forehead. For luck, you supposed. Whether it was for you or him didn’t matter much. “Promise.”

Slowly, as he climbed out onto your balcony and was gone with a flash of jetpack light, you wondered if it was a mirage; a dream, maybe. The entire night a hallucinatory haze, a figment of your overactive imagination and reckless romanticism.

But the towel left discarded on the floor and the pulsing ache between your legs was very, very real.

#boba fett x reader #boba fett/reader #boba fett fanfiction #boba fett x you #boba fett fic #boba fett oneshot #boba fett imagine

281 notes · View notes

blueskrugs · 3 years

Text

Fallin' in Love (in the Middle of the Night) | Joel Farabee

or, as I said in a text to @nazdaddy a couple weeks ago: "hear me out. summer camp AU with beezer." I really miss summer camp and I feel like bee fits the vibes. I've been going to camp since I was 12 and a lot of this is based on that camp and the experiences I've had there. have fun reading!

tagging: @marcoscandellas @stlbluesbrat21 @dembenchboys @poltoncarayko @robthomissed @letmeplaytheblues @troubatrain @ayohockeycheck @blackwidowrising @aria253264 @antoineroussel @starswin @glassdanse @ch-ristiane @majdoline

length: 11k words

There was a new counselor at camp this year. His name was Joel, and no one knew much of anything about him. Most new counselors were freshly aged-out campers, or were dating a current counselor and got dragged along for the week. Joel was neither, and he’d been quiet and keeping to himself since he climbed out of his car and dumped his bags in Cabin 24 earlier that afternoon.

Avery found herself glancing over at Joel more than once while she caught up with some of her friends. He was hanging back from the clusters of other counselors, leaning against a tree and fucking around on his phone, though there was no way he was getting any reception all the way out in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by trees. His baseball hat was on backwards, and his hair was sticking out in tufts from underneath it.

Avery’s co-counselor, Caroline, nudged her in the ribs and followed her gaze. “Think he’s cute?” she teased.

Avery scoffed, but she didn’t look away as some of the guy counselors pulled Joel into whatever dumb argument they were already having. “I’m not dealing with that shit this year,” she said. Every year without fail, there were camp crushes, and they never ended well.

“He’s in our age group,” Caroline told her, which Avery knew already. They’d all gotten the cabin assignments last week, and Avery had been wondering about the new guy since then. “You’ll get to know him, maybe change your mind,” Caroline said with a grin.

Avery rolled her eyes but didn’t get a chance to respond because the camp director was trying to get everyone’s attention so they could head up to the chapel for orientation. They went slowly, still chatting in groups and clusters, yelling out to each other as they made their way up the hill, past the dining hall and towards the chapel. Avery still found herself looking over at Joel as he ambled alongside the groups of counselors. He’s still quiet, though he’s obviously listening to the conversations around him, trying to catch up on years of history and inside jokes. He caught her eye as they duck through the double doors into the AC and sent her a grin.

Caroline might’ve been right about the cute thing.

The chapel on the campgrounds isn’t much of a chapel, and is more a big open room with some of the best wifi anywhere on the property. Somehow, Joel ended up sitting next to Avery in the circle of chairs set up in the middle of the room. He’d grabbed the orientation packet every counselor got and was flipping through it eagerly. Avery snorted softly, and she reached out with her foot to nudge Joel in the shin.

“Don’t worry, dude, it’s all common sense stuff,” she told him. Even the other new counselors, the ones who had just aged out of being campers, didn’t look concerned, though being at camp for a few years was definitely more than enough to know how to basically run the camp.

Joel looked up at her and grinned again. “Yeah, I’m getting that,” he said. “I don’t think I got your name earlier,” he added.

Avery was wearing a sticker with her name scrawled on it like everyone else, but she refrained from rolling her eyes. Barely. “It’s Avery,” she whispered as Austin, the camp director, stood in the middle of the circle.

“Who’s ready for some icebreakers?” he said, way too loud for the small space. Everyone groaned, and Caroline and Avery shared a look from across the circle. “Don’t be like that, we have some new faces, and it’s been a while since everyone’s seen each other,” Austin said.

By Avery’s count, Joel was the only counselor who was truly new, but there was no stopping Austin once he was in Camp Mode.

Two and a half hours later, after they’d painstakingly gone through every page of the counselor’s manual, they finally broke for dinner.

“Is it always like that?” Joel asked as they trooped back down the hill to the dining hall.

Caroline and Avery groaned again. Joel sent them an amused look.

“Every fucking year,” Avery told him.

“I think I have the manual memorized,” Caroline added.

Joel laughed. “Something to look forward to next year then,” he said.

Avery raised her eyebrows. “The kids haven’t even shown up yet. Don’t get ahead of yourself, you might change your mind before the week is over.”

He wouldn’t really, probably, but a week of yelling kids, walking several miles in the August heat, and shitty food definitely had the potential to drive the weak of heart away. It wouldn’t be the first time, and if they did scare Joel off, it wouldn’t be the last. Joel sat across from Caroline and Avery for dinner.

“Eat up, bud,” Avery told him, watching as Joel pushed food around on his plate. “This is the best food you’ll get all week.”

Camp food was notorious for being barely edible on a good day, but because the counselors got in for orientation on a day in-between camp sessions, the kitchen staff was able to make them an actual meal. It still wasn’t the greatest food, but at least it hadn’t been made in bulk and left to sit under heat lamps.

Joel sighed, but reached for the serving bowl next to him for seconds.

Campers arrived in two buses on Sunday afternoon, but first came breakfast and way too much downtime for the counselors. Austin always said it was good for “bonding,” even though most of the counselors had known each other since they were kids.

“How did you end up here anyway?” Avery asked Joel, who was sitting across the table from her again. He’d told her and Caroline at dinner the night before that he was from upstate New York, which was decidedly not anywhere near their little campground in the Midwest wilderness.

“Thought it would be fun,” Joel said around a mouthful of eggs.

Avery never did eat those powdered eggs they served that were a sorry excuse for fresh scrambled eggs. “Please don’t talk with your mouth full, gross,” she told him.

Joel just winked at her.

The counselors lounged around at the lakefront until it was time for the buses to start showing up. Avery caught Joel’s eye at one point in the chaos of unloading kids and their bags and directing them to the right cabins, and she laughed at the look of overwhelmed terror on his face.

The madness of the first day always made it pass quickly. Before Avery knew it, it was after dinner and everyone was trooping down to the fire ring for the opening night campfire. Avery watched as Joel’s campers clustered around him as they walked.

“Who is that?” one of her girls asked. Avery tore her eyes away.

“New counselor, Joel. He’s got our age group, I’m sure you’ll get to know him,” Avery told her. She just hoped they liked him once they got to know him.

Avery ended up sitting on a log with her campers, right behind Joel and the boys. She stared at the back of his hat while she zoned out, half-listening to the same welcome speech Austin gave every year. His backpack was unzipped.

Avery reached down and absently picked up one of the wood chips by her feet. She ran her thumb over it, still pretending to pay attention to whatever Austin was saying. One of her campers next to her caught on to her idea and snickered.

Avery tossed the wood chip in her hand into Joel’s backpack. It landed with a quiet clang as it hit a can of sunscreen, but Joel paid it no mind.

“How many before he notices, do you think?” she whispered.

“Only one way to find out,” Kate whispered back.

Avery picked up another wood chip. In the next five minutes before Austin called all the counselors down for introductions, she landed a little over a dozen more wood chips in his backpack, including one that bounced off of his back and in.

“Backpack’s unzipped,” she told him as she carefully stepped passed him, hitting the bottom of the backpack.

“Thanks, hey, what the f-“ Joel caught himself. He glared at Avery as he zipped up his backpack.

Avery laughed and went next to Caroline in the line of counselors.

It wasn’t a campfire without s’mores, and they broke out the marshmallows as the sun went down. The oldest campers were always in charge of the campfires and s’more assembly, so Avery was catching up with some of her former campers on the logs near the fire. Joel plopped down on the log next to her, one leg stretched out on either side, s’more in hand.

“Want one?” he asked, holding it in Avery’s face. His fingers were sticky with melted marshmallow.

Avery pushed his hand away. “Pass.”

Joel looked personally offended. “What kind of person doesn’t like s’mores?” he asked. Now he had melted chocolate on his upper lip. Avery was carefully not looking.

“This one,” she said. Joel reached out and tugged on her braid. “Ow, what the hell?”

“Just making sure you’re a person and not, like, a robot or something,” he said. Avery just rolled her eyes.

They found out the next morning that they were letting the boy cabins and girl cabins of the same age group sit together this year for meals. Somehow, it was actually less chaotic than if they were separated. Which is how, once again, Joel ended up across the table from Avery at breakfast. She had accepted her fate. He smiled at her, looking far too awake for so early in the morning.

“Hey! Beezer!” one of the boys yelled from the other end of the table. It sounded like Cameron, Avery thought.

“What?” Joel yelled back.

“Beezer?” Avery asked, because what the hell.

“Hang on.” Joel banged his knee on the table as he went to go talk to his boys.

“Beezer?” Avery repeated when he came back, still rubbing his knee.

“From my last name, Farabee,” he explained. “They said Joel is a weird name, so I said they could call me Bee or Beezer.”

“Yeah, because Beezer is so normal,” Avery muttered. Joel kicked her under the table.

It rained Monday afternoon. It was one of those late summer thunderstorms that blew up fast and didn’t really last very long, but it rained hard enough and long enough that all activities after lunch were cancelled. Which meant they were all trapped in their cabins with their campers.

Some of the girls were doing who-knows-what in their bunks, while most of the boys had elected to stay in their cabin with Sam. Joel had followed Avery and Caroline, though, and was now lounging in the common area with them and a handful of their campers.

“I’m bored,” Joel said. Thunder rumbled in the distance. Caroline threw a Goldfish at his head. “Ow,” he said, watching as it bounced to the floor. “Hey, I could’ve eaten that,” he whined. Caroline threw another Goldfish at him, but this time he caught it and popped it in his mouth triumphantly.

“Does anyone have a deck of cards?” Caroline asked.

“Spoons?” Avery asked, getting up to dig her cards out of her bag.

“I have markers!” one of their girls yelled, dashing off to her bunk.

Joel was sitting up again and looking more interested when Avery came back and sat back next to him. She tossed the deck to Caroline to shuffle.

His hat was crooked, and Avery absently straightened it as Joel asked, “How do you play spoons?"

Caroline gasped. “How have you never played spoons before?”

Joel shrugged as he watched the bag of markers get dumped over the table in front of him.

“It’s like musical chairs, but with cards and spoons,” Avery explained. “Alright, how many are playing?”

“That explains literally nothing,” Joel said. “I’m in.”

Avery carefully counted out six markers and laid them out on the table. Caroline started dealing cards to everyone. Joel poked Avery in the arm; she ignored him.

“You’re gonna get four cards,” Avery started explaining. “The goal is to get four of the same number, four queens, four sixes, whatever. Carol is dealer, she’ll keep sending cards around one at a time. If you see a card you want, keep it, and pick a different card from your hand and pass it on instead. First person to four of a kind grabs a marker, the person who can’t get a marker is out, and then there’s one less marker in the next round.”

Joel blinked at her a couple times. “I think I’m still confused.”

Avery laughed and patted him on the leg. “You’ll figure it out,” she told him, picking up her cards.

Joel did figure it out, but only after he was too slow in the scramble for a marker in the first round and got stuck watching for a while.

“I want back in,” he complained. He poked Avery in the back with his foot where she had moved to the floor in front of him. “You’re too fast.”

Avery reached behind her to smack his hand away. “Years of practice, bud. And you’ll get back in when this game’s over.”

Joel stuck his tongue out at Avery, but only Caroline saw it.

By the time the rain let up a little over an hour later, Avery had nearly elbowed a camper in the face fighting Joel for a marker (which she won), Joel threw a marker across the room so Caroline couldn’t get it (and was automatically disqualified), and no less than three fights had broken out.

Basically, they’d had a great time. They still kicked Joel out to go back and deal with his own campers for a while, though, on the grounds of infringing on their territory.

On Monday night, Avery was standing outside her cabin, trying to make sure her flashlight actually worked when Joel came over to her.

“What’re you up to?” he asked.

Avery clicked her flashlight off. “What’re you up to?” she countered.

“Stealing extra snacks from the staff cabin,” he said easily. “You didn’t answer me.”

Avery smiled at him. He was still wearing his baseball hat, turned around the right way now, even though it was well past dark. “I was gonna go for a walk around the campgrounds,” she told him. “Carol’s in with our kids, and I usually go out for a while before bed.”

“By yourself?”

Avery almost laughed at how worried Joel looked. “Bee, I know every inch of this campground, I’ve been coming here since I was a kid.” And then before she could think better of it: “You could come with me if you want.”

Joel’s face lit up. “For real?” Avery did laugh at his face this time.

“Yes, for real. Just let me get a hoodie.” It was still summer, but nights on the lake got chilly.

“Here, just take mine, I won’t need it,” Joel said quickly. He tossed her the hoodie he’d been wearing at dinner.

It was big on her, and warm, though it no longer carried any of his body heat. It smelled like bonfire smoke and whatever deodorant Joel wore. When he turned to head back to the main path, Avery tucked her nose into the collar and took a deep breath.

“Alright, where the fuck are we going,” Joel asked when Avery caught up to him.

Avery shrugged, though she wasn’t sure how well Joel could see it in the dark. She said, “I don’t know, we usually just wander around for a while.

“We?”

Avery usually went on night walks with one of the guy counselors she was friends with, Alex, but he wasn’t there this summer. “You don’t know him,” Avery said.

Joel huffed. “So what, am I just the other guy?” he asked.

Avery laughed. “Something like that. Ooh, there’s a paintball course on the back corner of the grounds, if I can remember how to get there,” she said, already turning so she could head in the right direction. Maybe.

“Oh, lit!”

Avery could not, in fact, remember how to get to the paintball course. They’d made it partially there before Joel got freaked out because he was convinced he’d heard something in the woods behind them. Avery telling him it was probably just a raccoon did not help.

So, they ended up turning around and heading towards the front end of the campgrounds. There was a vacation lodge on that side of the lake, which had never quite made sense to Avery. She could see some of their lights glistening on the black lake. It was a clear night, and there was no one else around, which meant stargazing. Well, after Avery convinced Joel they weren’t trespassing by laying on the tennis courts.

“Do you know anything about stars?” Joel asked. He didn’t look over at Avery, still gazing up at the sky.

Avery snorted softly. “Nah, I just think they’re pretty. You can’t see stars like this in the city.” There were still some lights scattered around the campgrounds, but it was nothing compared to the light pollution of a city. “Our old camp director used to tell us one of those myths about how the stars were created, but I don’t think I remember enough of it to repeat it.” He also used to scare the kids with ghost stories, but Joel didn’t really need to hear about how the campgrounds were haunted just yet.

“Great story,” he said. Avery smacked him on the stomach. “Ow! Hey, be nice to me, or I’ll leave you out here.”

He wouldn’t, and they both knew that.

“Hey,” Joel said suddenly, pointing straight upward. “Is that Orion?”

“Isn’t Orion a winter constellation?” Avery asked. She had no idea where Joel was pointing.

“What?”

“Never mind.”

They mostly laid in silence, just watching the stars and enjoying the closeness and the quiet. Avery always missed hearing the frogs at night when she wasn’t at camp. The black night sky stretched endlessly above them, dotted with stars. Avery would live under these stars if she could. It was getting late, though, and they still had to be up bright and early the next day, so when Avery caught Joel yawning for the third time in as many minutes, she sat up.

“Time for bed?” Joel pouted up at her. “I know the mattresses here aren’t comfortable, but I promise it’ll be better than sleeping on a tennis court,” she told him. It had only been one day of actual camp, and she could already feel some aches settling in. “C’mon, Beezer.”

Avery stood up and stretched before offering Joel a hand up. He groaned as she pulled him to his feet. They made their way back to the cabins together, still in comfortable silence, Avery still wearing Joel’s hoodie.

Joel was carefully peeling a banana when Avery and her campers made it into breakfast Tuesday morning. His hat was facing the right way for once. She dropped her backpack on the bench and groaned.

“What took you guys so long?” he asked. Almost all of the other cabins had made it to the dining hall already. He moved Avery’s bag onto the ground at his feet. “C’mon, sit, food’s coming out soon.”

“Ava lost one of her shoes, and we all had to look for it,” she told him. Joel snorted. Avery tapped the bill of his cap, shoved it down lower over his eyes. “No hats at meals,” she told him.

Joel rolled his eyes, but he took the hat off and ran his fingers through his hair. “Or what?”

“Or it goes on the moose,” Avery said, jerking her thumb over her shoulder at the taxidermied moose head that hung over the door.

Joel gave her a look, like he definitely didn’t believe her. He’d learn.

When Avery got back to the table from the bathroom before lunch later that day, there was a baseball hat hanging from the moose’s antlers. Joel was hatless and disgruntled-looking.

“Told you,” Avery said, swiping a potato chip from his plate.

She took pity on him later and fished his hat down with the broom handle.

Swim time down at the lakefront had always been Avery’s favorite parts of summer camp. In the middle of all of the craziness of the week, the lake was always peaceful and calm. Avery could take out a paddleboard or a kayak and just float, away from yelling kids, losing track of time in the glassy blue surface of the lake. She’d spend a whole day out there if they would let her.

She had snagged a paddleboard and had made it out to the middle of the lake. She was chatting with a couple of her campers when Joel approached on a kayak. “What’s up?” he asked.

“Hi, Beezer!” the girls in the canoe chorused. Avery grinned at him.

Sam came up on Avery’s other side on another paddleboard. He floated up until he bumped into Avery’s board. She wobbled, but didn’t fall over. “Oops,” Sam said.

Avery pushed Sam’s board away with her paddle. His balance wasn’t as good, and he toppled over. “Oops,” Avery echoed. Sam flipped her off where he thought the girls couldn’t see.

It was warm in the sun, and Avery leaned on her paddle, tilting her face up to the sun. Joel poked her leg with his kayak paddle. When Avery glanced back at him, his cheeks and nose were red from the sun.

“Are you wearing any sunscreen?” Avery asked him.

Joel shrugged. “Nah.”

Avery tsked at him. Sam had made it back up onto his paddleboard.

“Hey, Aves,” he said. “Water feels nice, you should try it.” He was holding his paddle a little like a spear.

They weren’t allowed to swim out in the open water of the lake where all the kayaks were, but they could get away with it if they “fell” in, which is how the counselors usually ended up spending most of their time on the lake trying to knock each other into the water. Avery knew where this was going.

Avery paddled backwards once, trying to get out of Sam’s reach, but she bumped into Joel’s kayak instead.

“Oh, no.”

Joel’s grin turned a little wicked. Avery didn’t have time to brace herself before Joel was shoving her paddleboard, and it went out from under her. She heard everyone laughing as she hit the water with a splash. She came back up, pushing her wet hair out of her face, and hooked her arms over her board. She glared at Joel.

“Rude,” she told him.

Joel shrugged. “Thought you looked hot,” he said.

The water did feel great, actually, though Avery was loath to admit it to either of the boys. Avery sighed and heaved herself back into her board, but she didn’t stand back up, instead sitting with her legs hanging in the water on either side. The girls in the canoe were still giggling, so Avery used her paddle to splash them.

“Hey, come on, they’re innocent!” Joel protested. Avery splashed him next.

Tuesday night meant all-camp kickball on the lower fields.

Avery had never been one for making a fool of herself in team sports, so she was lounging on a blanket in the grass with Caroline and a couple of the counselors for the older girls, safe from any stray flying kickballs. Avery was just debating digging through her backpack to reapply bug spray when Joel made his way over to them.

His hat was perched backwards on his head like always, and he was squinting into the setting sun as it dipped below the treeline. His forehead had gotten sunburnt from being out on the lake earlier. “We’re getting a counselors game goin’. You girls in?” he asked, but Avery had a feeling it was directed more at her than the other three.

She raised an eyebrow up at him and absently swatted at a mosquito on Caroline’s leg. “I don’t do sports,” she told him.

Joel’s face fell. Avery hadn’t even realized how earnest he’d looked. Someone on the other end of the field called his name, and he glanced over his shoulder. “You sure? It’ll be fun,” he tried.

Avery had grown up with most of the other counselors, knew firsthand just how competitive they all were. Fun, maybe, but also intense and way too serious for summer camp kickball.

“I’ll pass,” Avery said.

“Your loss,” Joel tossed back over his shoulder as he jogged away again.

Caroline was smirking. Avery half-heartedly smacked her on the arm. “He definitely has a crush on you,” she said.

“Does he think he’s being subtle?” Meg chimed in from the other side of the blanket, not looking up from the friendship bracelet she was making.

Avery flopped backwards onto the blanket with a groan.

Avery was still on her back, dozing off while listening to the sounds of yelling kids filling the humid air, when Caroline reached over and poked her in the ribs.

“Your boy is up to bat,” she said.

Meg snorted as Avery sat up and leaned back on her elbows to watch. “He’s not ‘my boy,’” Avery grumbled. Then, “Is it still called an at-bat in kickball?” She burst out laughing as Caroline rolled her eyes.

Joel was indeed up next, and Avery watched as Joel kicked the ball and sent it sailing over Drew and Sam’s heads. He easily headed to second base, but the grass was still wet from the rain on Monday, and he wiped out as he stepped on the rubber base. All four girls on the blanket burst out laughing. Joel was still sitting in the grass, looking somewhat disinclined to move.

“You really looked like you were having fun out there,” Avery said to him later, as they all walked back up to the cabins in the dark. “That wipeout was great entertainment for us, too.”

Joel took a step to the side so he could bump into Avery, but reached out to steady her when she lost her balance. “Whatever,” he said. “That really hurt, actually.”

Avery just laughed.

Joel showed up late to lunch on Wednesday with a giant bandage covering his knee and dried blood down his leg.

“What did you do to yourself?” Avery asked as he dropped into the empty spot next to her and reached for the nearest plate of food.

He still had ash streaked across his cheek from firebuilding that morning, when he’d bet Avery that he could build a fire faster than her. (He’d won, but only barely, and because he’d used a battery instead of flint, like they were supposed to.)

Joel didn’t pause in piling food on his plate. “Jackson left his water bottle down at archery, so I went back down to get it for him, and when I was running back up the hill, I slipped on some loose gravel and fell. I think there might be some gravel in my knee now,” he said. Some of the kids at the table laughed.

“You’re a mess,” Avery told him with a sigh.

They were back down the hill towards archery after lunch on Wednesday to hang out in the Nature Center for the afternoon.

“Alright, please fill me in on what we’re doing today,” Joel asked, falling into step next to Avery.

One of Joel’s campers turned around to walk backwards in front of them. “We get to play with snakes!” he said. His name was Jack, Avery was pretty sure, who was very different from Jackson. It all got a little confusing after a while.

“Cool!” Joel said.

Avery rolled her eyes. She poked Joel in the ribs. “You would get excited about that.” He flinched away and pouted at her. It wasn’t that Avery hated the Nature Center, but the animals were the same every year, and you can only get excited about them so many times.

“What? Snakes are cool,” Joel defended.

“Boys,” Avery sighed, walking faster so she could be next to Caroline instead.

Disdain in front of Joel aside, it was fun to get to chill in the AC and hang out with the animals for a while. There was a little milk snake that loved to chill out in people’s hands named Dudley that all the counselors were weirdly fond of. Plus, they got to play around with the ferret they had, which was always highly entertaining.

Joel was just as excited as the kids, which Avery had to admit was kind of cute. He bounced around and looked eagerly into various cages with the kids. Avery and Caroline watched from a couple of the chairs in the corner, content to just hang out until the snakes came out.

“D’you think I’d get in trouble if I put him in Joel’s hood?” Avery mused, idly watching Dudley calmly wind his way around her wrist. Joel’s back was to her, and he was wearing a hoodie despite it being nearly 100 degrees outside.

Caroline giggled. “That’s mean.”

Dudley was making his way back towards Avery’s hand now. “He did say he wanted to hold him,” she said. And with that, Avery took a step forward and carefully deposited Dudley in Joel’s hood, where he promptly curled back up to sleep.

“What are you doing?” Joel asked.

“Just fixing your hood,” Avery said innocently, patting him on the shoulder and taking another step forward and pretending to read the info card of the cage they were standing in front of.

“Avery.” Avery glanced over at Joel. His arms were crossed, but he looked like he was fighting back a smile. “Why is my hood moving.” It wasn’t phrased much like a question.

Avery bit back a smile of her own. “Is it?” Dudley’s head popped out of the hood just then, slithering up onto Joel’s shoulder a little bit. He startled, then shot Avery a dirty look. Avery couldn’t help but laugh.

“You’re actually the worst, why.” Dudley continued to make his way across Joel’s shoulder, happy to explore. “Help,” Joel whined, “I don’t think I can reach him, and I don’t wanna drop him.”

“Hold still,” she said, carefully reaching to grab Dudley back out. “Here, he likes to be held.”

Joel obediently held his hands out to take Dudley from Avery. “Hey, take my picture will you?”

Even if Avery never spoke to Joel again after this summer, she was definitely going to keep the picture she took of Joel grinning at the camera with a snake in his hands.

They were walking past the dam later when one of the boys stopped short. Joel, not paying any attention, bumped into him.

“Hey, Avery,” Jack said.

“Hey, Jack,” Avery said back.

“Can we go check out the cemetery?”

Avery shuddered. “Absolutely not.” She wondered who had told the boys about it.

Joel looked at Avery, wide-eyed. “There’s a cemetery here?”

“Yes, and we’re not going back there,” she told him. Several of the boys groaned, put-out. Joel still looked a little nervous, so Avery added, “These grounds used to be privately owned. The cemetery is hidden behind the dam, most people don’t even know about it.” That last part was directed more at their nosy campers.

They had started walking again. Up ahead, one of the campers yelled, “Wait, does that mean no one’s told Beezer that the campgrounds are haunted?”

“They’re what?”

Avery was not too proud to admit that she hated the barn dance a little bit. It was fun for a little while, but after about twenty minutes, it just became hot and dusty. Avery had never been good at following along with the steps they tried to teach, and it was a lot more fumbling and embarrassment than it was worth.

This year she made it through the Cha Cha Slide– which they normally didn’t play until the very end– before she dipped and left the barn to go sit back on the blanket with Meg and Caroline. They spent most of their time just laughing at their friends as they struggled to keep up with music. Avery had only been sitting out for ten minutes when Joel emerged from the crowd and made his way towards them.

“Scoot,” he said, carefully sitting next to Avery. Meg raised her eyebrows at Avery behind Joel’s back.

“Not one for dancing?” Avery asked him.

Joel stuck his tongue out at her. “You’re one to talk, you’ve been sitting over here forever.” Avery stuck her tongue out back.

“Real mature, you two,” Caroline muttered from next to them.

“Hey, wait, actually,” Joel said, reaching out to tug on Avery’s arm. He pulled her closer to him, until she was situated between his legs, leaning back against his chest. He draped his arms across her shoulders and rested his chin on the top of Avery’s head. “That’s better.”

“You’re so weird,” Avery said, but she relaxed into his hold. She rested her hands on his and settled back in to watch the semi-organized chaos of the barn dance going on in front of them.

Thursday morning found Joel hunched over a Styrofoam cup of coffee with his glasses on and hoodie pulled up over his head.

“I didn’t know you wore glasses,” Avery said, sitting across from him and swiping his coffee for a sip.

“Hey,” Joel whined, “I need that.”

Avery snorted and handed him his coffee back. “Why are you so tired, anyway?” Avery had gone back to the cabin after barn dance and passed out herself.

Joel made a noise in the back of his throat. “We couldn’t get the boys to shut up and settle down last night.” Said boys were at the other end of the table, looking about as tired as Joel, actually.

“Y’all better wake up down there,” Avery called. “We’ve got Alpine today.” “What the hell is the Alpine Tower, anyway?” Joel asked. “No one will tell me.”

The Alpine Tower was hard to describe, and it was better to experience for the first time if you didn’t know what you were getting into, so Avery just said, “You’ll see.”

Joel groaned and put his head down on the table.

After breakfast, Joel was by Avery’s side, as was becoming typical, as they started the trek towards Alpine Tower. He’d woken up considerably as his coffee hit. “How far is it anyway?” he asked.

“Far,” everyone else chorused. Joel looked taken aback.

“You should know by now that nothing here is ever a short walk,” Avery told him. The shortest walk on the grounds was probably from the cabins to the dining hall, and that was still almost half a mile. Ahead of them, a group of their campers were chattering excitedly about their climbs later.

Joel reached out and tugged on Avery’s braid where it was pulled over her shoulder. “You should give me a piggyback ride.” Avery raised an eyebrow at him. Joel easily had a head on her. “Or you could give me one,” she countered, not really expecting Joel to take her up on it.

Except. “Only if you carry my backpack,” Joel said, already shrugging off his backpack and handing it to Avery.

She laughed. “Bud, I was joking.”

Joel adjusted his hat and came to a stop next to Avery. He was eyeing her expectantly. “Last chance.”

Avery sighed and put Joel’s backpack on over hers. “Jesus Christ, what do you have in this thing?” she asked. It was heavier than hers by a lot. Joel crouched down so Avery could climb onto his back.

“Wood chips,” Joel deadpanned as he adjusted Avery on his back, hiking her up a little higher. Avery tightened her arms around Joel’s neck.

“You’re ridiculous,” she muttered, but Joel didn’t respond as he started walking again, jogging a little to catch up with Caroline and the kids.

Caroline gave them both a look as they reached the rest of their group, but didn’t comment. Joel carried Avery for most of the long walk towards Alpine, and it was mostly fine, except for the moment he stopped to hike her legs up higher around his waist again and nearly accidentally flipped Avery over his head.

He came to a stop as they reached the first big hill. “Nope, ride’s over. Sorry, sweetheart, I don’t do hills.” He let Avery slide off his back and back onto the ground.

“Sweetheart?”

Joel blushed a little and wouldn’t meet Avery’s eyes. Avery purposely bumped into him as they both started walking again. Joel was panting by the time they made it to the top of the second steep hill, but he stopped short once he saw the Alpine Tower for the first time.

“Oh, hell no,” he said.

Avery laughed and went to drop down in the wood chips on the ground next to Caroline.

“What took you two so long?” she asked.

“Joel’s slow,” Avery told her.

“I heard that!” Joel called. He was only a few feet away, sitting on the low bench next to one of his campers.

“You were meant to!” Avery called back.

The Alpine Tower had once been described to Avery as “a rock wall on steroids.” What it really was was a triangular platform fifty feet in the air, and it was up to the climber to figure out how to get to the top. Each of the three sides were varying degrees of difficulty, and it was always one of Avery’s favorite camp activities. When she glanced over her shoulder, Joel was still staring up at it.

“Scared, Beezer?” she asked.

Joel scoffed, but he didn’t quite look like he meant it.

They made it through the safety demonstration and got a couple kids going up the Tower, and Avery settled in to watch, cheer her kids on, and wait for her turn. Until someone started pelting her with wood chips from behind.

“Can I help you?” she asked, turning around to glare at Joel.

He was already in the middle of throwing another wood chip at her, and it hit her in the forehead this time. “Oops.” He didn’t look particularly sorry, actually. “You gonna climb?” he asked.

“Yeah, of course,” she said. “Are you?” Joel just shrugged. “Wouldn’t have pegged you to be scared of heights,” she added.

Joel stuck his tongue out at her. “I’m not. Just-” he trailed off.

“How ‘bout this,” Avery said, turning fully to face Joel. “I’ll race you to the top. I’ll even let you take the easy side,” she told him. She’d been planning on taking one of the harder sides, anyway, but Joel didn’t need to know that. Joel rolled his eyes, but Avery saw a familiar glint at the prospect of a competition. “Unless you’re too scared, Bee,” she added, just a taunt, really.

“Whatever, you’re on,” he said, half-heartedly throwing another wood chip at Avery’s leg. Avery grinned at him, and Joel grinned back. Caroline shook her head at both of them.

After all the kids had taken their turn at climbing, the counselors were allowed to strap themselves into harnesses and helmets. Avery and Joel stood next to each other in the shadow of the Tower, listening as they were attached to ropes and given final instructions by the climbing staff.

“Fuck, this thing is tight,” Joel muttered, shifting uncomfortably.

“Shh, language,” Avery scolded. Their campers were all in high school, and they’d probably all heard or said “fuck” themselves by now, but still. Joel flicked her in the helmet. “Hey, be nice to me, and I might let you win.”

Joel huffed. “Let me win, sure, alright.”

“Good luck, Bee,” Avery yelled to him, already heading over to start her climb.

She was on the “middle” side, which was harder than the side Joel was starting on, but Avery had the advantage of having climbed that side more than once before. It didn’t take long before she had caught back up to Joel, who had sort of gotten himself stuck.

“Help?” he called, trying to look for a way to keep moving forward.

“Sucks to suck, Beezer,” Avery called back, reaching up to pull the cargo net she was about to climb towards her. This is where it got harder, requiring more upper body strength than Avery actually had, but when she glanced back over her shoulder, Joel had gotten himself unstuck and was moving again.

She stopped paying attention to Joel mostly after that, though she did hear a thump and then an “Ow,” that she was assuming was Joel hitting his head on something, which would definitely not have been the first time someone had done it.

She was about to climb her last stretch of cargo net when she heard, “Shit, why are you so good at this?” from below her. “Quit checking out my ass, Joel,” she yelled without turning around. She cackled when she heard Joel make loud noises of protest. It didn’t really matter; she had a race to win.

In the end, Avery barely made it to the top of the Tower before Joel. She had just stood up on the platform when one of Joel’s hands appeared, grappling for the little rock climbing rocks they had for grip on the top of the platform.

“A little help?” he asked. She could just barely see his head.

“You made it this far, you can do it,” she told him, but she took a couple steps closer to him. It was entirely ungraceful, but Joel eventually scrambled onto the platform and then to his feet.

Avery took a moment to appreciate the view. They were high, above the treeline, and trees stretched out in all directions for as far as Avery could see.

“Fuck, we’re high up,” he said.

“Stop saying fuck,” Avery chided, but she offered him a high five. “Told ya you could do it.”

“Have I told you that I hate you?” Joel asked, shaking his head. He took the high five, though. “Wait, how do we get down again?”

Alpine Tower took up most of the morning, and by the time they all made it back to the dining hall, lunch was already in full swing. Joel stretched out on the bench with a sigh.

“How am I already sore?” he asked, to no one in particular.

Avery nudged his leg. “Move over, dude, the rest of us have to sit, too.”

Joel groaned, but sat up, though he was still sitting sideways on the bench. He leaned forward and rested his forehead on Avery’s shoulder. She patted him absently on the thigh. One of the campers was setting out lunch on their table, and she was trying to see what it was.

“I’m tired,” Joel said. He was quiet for once, and Avery barely heard him over the general din of lunch.

“You can take a nap instead of coming out to the mud cave, meet up with us again for swim time,” she said, knowing full well he wouldn’t do that. He’d been talking about the mud cave ever since Avery had told him about it on Sunday night.

Joel sat upright again. “No way, I wanna get dirty.”

Avery groaned. “Please never say that again.” Joel wiggled his eyebrows at her. She knocked his baseball hat off his head.

The two cabins met back in the circle drive outside the dining hall after lunch, dressed in their dingiest clothes and oldest shoes, ready to pile into the old van that took them out to the edge of the campgrounds. For once, Joel wasn’t wearing a baseball hat. He couldn’t stand still, bouncing around while he chattered with his boys while they waited.

The van pulled up, as rickety and rusty as ever, helmets were handed out, and everyone clambered into the van. There wasn’t a lot of space, and it was hot as the van made its slow way across camp.

“Why is everyone wearing their helmets already?” Joel asked, as the van hit a bump in the road and Joel bounced high enough in his seat to hit his head on the roof. “Ow, okay.”

Eventually the van came to a stop at the creek that cut across the overgrown field they were in. Everyone piled out of the van, blinking in the sunlight.

“So, where’s the cave?” Joel asked. A couple people laughed.

“Across the creek, through the field, and then about another mile into the woods,” Avery told him, patting him on the shoulder as she went past him towards the creek. The campers had already started wading across. When she glanced back over her shoulder at him, he looked a little dismayed.

The creek was clear and cold despite the late summer heat. It came up just past Avery’s waist as she splashed across. The field on the other side was just as overgrown as the one they started in, if not more, and everyone tried to get through it and away from all the bees as fast as possible.

“Is it really that far of a walk?” Joel asked as he caught back up to Avery. His nose had gotten sunburnt at some point, was peeling a little.

“Unfortunately,” Avery said. They were walking back into the shade of the woods now. Avery’s shoes were still squishing a little from the creek, and she could already feel a blister forming on her heel.

Joel groaned, but he was otherwise quiet as they kept walking. They walked in silence for a while, and Avery basked in the sunlight filtering through the trees and the sounds of the birds and cicadas.

“How much farther?” Joel whined after a while. Avery bumped sideways into him.

“We’re almost through the week, don’t tell me you can’t handle a little walking now,” she teased.

Joel bumped into Avery back. “Sorry, one of us walked all the way up to Alpine Tower today,” he said.

“Hey, I walked up the hills at the end!” Avery protested. It wasn’t like she had begged Joel for a piggyback ride, either. Joel rolled his eyes at her.

They had finally reached the cave, and everyone was clustered around the permanent member of the camp staff who would lead their group. The kids were listening eagerly, but Joel was paying attention to literally anything else.

Avery nudged him with her elbow. “Focus, Beezer,” she whispered.

Joel stuck his tongue out at Avery, but started paying attention to where their leader was warning them about bats. “Hang on, you never said anything about bats,” Joel hissed. In front of them, the kids were lining up to head into the cave. Avery just grinned at him and shoved him forward to walk in front of her.

It was immediately cooler when they stepped into the cave. With all the rain on Monday, the water was higher than some years, and it was quickly up over Avery’s shins. In front of her, Joel clicked his flashlight on, but it did little as they made their way deeper into the blackness of the cave.

“Shit, this water’s freezing,” Joel said, way too loudly.

Avery laughed quietly. She felt her shoe unstick from the mud as she took another step. “I don’t know what you expected,” she whispered. It was hard to navigate the uneven footing in the dark and the water, and she tripped a little bit as the ground sloped suddenly beneath her. She caught herself with a hand on Joel’s back. “Shit, sorry,” she said.

Joel didn’t say anything, but he slowed down a bit so Avery could stay closer to him and his little circle of light. He kept a hand outstretched behind him in case Avery tripped again. It was quiet in the cave, just the sounds of everyone making their way through the muddy water and the occasional quiet giggle or curse from the campers. Avery lost track of time a bit, and before she knew it they had reached the back of the cave. All flashlights were turned off, and they stood quietly in the pitch black for a few long moments. Joel was standing close enough to Avery that she could feel his body heat, chasing away some of the chill of the cave. When they finally turned to leave and headed back out of the cave, Joel’s hand found the small of her back, steadying her, just for a second.

At the mouth of the cave, their leader insisted on streaking mud across everyone’s face before they could leave. Joel wrinkled his nose and poked at his cheek as they stepped back out into the sunlight. “Feels weird,” he complained.

“The mud is what you have a problem with?” Avery asked. Yeah, it itched a little as it was drying, but they were also covered in muddy water, well past both of their knees.

Joel just shrugged.

The walk back to the creek always seemed longer. It was still hot and humid, even in the shade of the woods, but it felt worse after spending almost an hour in freezing water and the damp dark of the cave. Everyone walked slower, dragging their soggy feet.

Joel ended up in the creek ahead of Avery. The kids were splashing around, relishing in the clean water.

“Hey, Bee,” Avery called.

Joel turned towards her, but Avery missed a drop-off of the rocks that made up the creek bed, and stumbled. Joel caught her quickly before she face-planted into the water.

“Careful,” he said, grinning down at her. “No need to throw yourself at me,” he added.

Avery rolled her eyes. She had found her footing, but Joel was still clutching her arms. She pushed at his chest and laughed as his heel slipped and he fell backwards. He disappeared under the water for a moment.

“Oh, you’re gonna pay for that,” he said when he reappeared.

Avery tried to dash away, but the water came up over her waist, which made it hard to move quickly. She splashed as much as she could, but she felt Joel grab her around the waist and haul her backwards until they were both falling back underwater. Avery shrieked. Joel let go of her after they both went under, and Avery pushed herself away and stood back up. They were both soaked now. Joel was laughing, and Avery couldn’t help but to laugh, too.

“Alright, you two,” Caroline yelled from the shore. “Quit flirting and get out of the creek.”

They both grumbled about it, but they made it to the other side of the creek without further incident.

Back into the van everyone went. It felt less hot with everyone still chilled from the cave and playing in the creek. Joel slid in next to Avery, pressed up against her side. They were stopping off at the lakefront swim next instead of going back to their cabins, and Avery was looking forward to spending more time out in the sun on the lake. Joel nudged her in the ribs with his elbow, drawing her attention away from where she was staring out the window.

“You goin’ out on the lake?” he asked quietly. The van jolted, and he ended up nearly in Avery’s lap for a moment.

“Of course,” Avery said back.

“Wanna grab a canoe together and chill?”

Avery thought for a moment. “Not interested in trying to knock me off a paddle board some more?” she teased.

Joel shook his head, grinning at Avery. His helmet was off, and his hair was a mess from being underneath it. “Too tired,” he said.

“Lame,” Avery said. Then, “Dibs on the front of the canoe.”

It didn’t take long to change out of their drenched and muddy clothes into swimsuits and commandeer a canoe. Joel got stuck doing most of the steering, with Avery only paddling when necessary. They mostly just drifted, letting the breeze push them along the open water. The lake was steel grey, the sky above them dark with clouds that had rolled in while they were in the cave, threatening more rain. Avery sat back and let her fingers brush across the water.

“Hey,” Joel said. His voice echoed a little, carrying across the lake. “Look at me for a sec.”

Avery turned as much as she could without jostling the canoe. Joel had his phone out, and when she turned, Avery heard the artificial shutter sound as Joel snapped a picture of her. She flipped him off with a grin; he took a picture of that, too.

The dining hall seemed extra loud that night, campers running back and forth between tables, everyone desperate for a few extra minutes with their friends before everyone went their separate ways the next day.

“You’ve got a little-” Joel poked the dried mud Avery still had across her cheekbones, sitting next to her at their table.

She swatted his hand away. “Shut up, I didn’t have time to shower after swim.” Joel slid down the bench, away from Avery. “Okay, rude,” she said. Joel grinned at her. He didn’t move any closer.

After dinner was the closing campfire. They were at the big fire ring this time, down near the lakefront as the sun set. Joel found Avery sitting on one of the benches off to the side of the fire by herself and plopped down on the bench next to her. His backpack made a muffled thump when he dropped it in the wood chips at their feet.

Avery dropped her head to rest on Joel’s shoulder. “I’m tired, Bee,” she whined. As much as she loved camp, it usually kicked her ass by the end of the week.

Joel laughed softly and patted Avery on the thigh. “Last day tomorrow,” he reminded her.

Avery stared into the flickering flames until her eyes went unfocused. “But I don’t wanna go home.”

She didn’t want to leave camp, her happy place, didn’t want to leave Joel, who she was maybe falling in love with, didn’t want to leave her friends and the endless days of summer behind.

Joel laughed again, but it wasn’t mean. “I get that.” The kids were starting in on their s’mores. “I wasn’t sure how much I was gonna like it here, honestly. Especially when I got here and everyone else already knew each other, and I was just the new guy.”

Avery lifted her head and looked at Joel. The firelight was casting shadows across his face, but he was gazing out over the lake. His hand was still on Avery’s leg, just above her knee.

“Did you like it after all?” Avery asked. She thought about him talking about next year on the very first day, saying he thought camp would be fun.

Joel grinned then, and it was familiar and comforting. Avery hadn’t expected that to happen at the beginning of the week.

She found herself wanting to see Joel’s smile forever.

“Yeah, I did,” was all Joel said. Avery put her head back on his shoulder.

They were quiet for a few minutes as the sun sank fully below the treeline and the lake glowed red next to them. Avery shivered in spite of the warm air as a wind blew. Joel bumped her head with his shoulder so Avery sat back up, and then he was bending over to dig something out of his backpack. He dropped a hoodie in Avery’s lap. She hadn’t seen him wearing it ever during the evening, which meant he’d thrown it in his bag just for her. She pulled it on with a small smile.

“You might not get this back, bud,” she told him, tugging the sleeves over her hands. Guys’ hoodies always seemed more comfortable than any sweatshirt Avery had ever owned herself.

Joel just shook his head at her and tugged on her braid, but it was gentle, half-hearted.

“Oh, wait, I’ll be right back,” Joel said, jumping back up and disappearing towards the s’mores table. When he came back a few minutes later, he had a s’more in one hand.

“What, nothing for me?” Avery teased.

“No, because you don’t like chocolate, you freak,” Joel said, but he reached into his shorts pocket and triumphantly produced an unopened sleeve of graham crackers, tossing them to Avery. She squinted suspiciously at him as he sat back down. “Carol told me you’ll eat the graham crackers,” he said casually.

Avery opened the crackers carefully and stuck one in her mouth. “Thanks, Bee,” she said around it. It came out softer than she meant for it to.

Joel winked at her and stole a graham cracker.

Every year, there were rumours of campers planning to sneak out of their cabins on the last night of camp. Really, they were terrible at being discreet about it, but they thought they were being subtle. Regardless, the counselors still had to be careful and watch to make sure no one actually did manage to sneak out.

Which is how Avery and Joel ended up sitting out in front of the stars at the small fire ring in front of their cabins, perched on the cold stone wall with both of their cabins in view. Avery was still wearing Joel’s hoodie.

“Do you think they’ll actually do it?” Joel asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

Avery shook her head and tilted her chin to look up at the stars. “Probably not, but I’m not about to get in trouble with Austin if they do.” It had happened once while she was still a camper, and it hadn’t exactly been pretty the next day with an entire cabin in trouble.

It had been cloudy earlier in the day, but it had cleared up, and the stars were as bright as ever above them. The moon was low and yellow in the humid air. Avery wished for a second that she had a camera to capture this moment, a memory to last forever.

Joel mimicked Avery, looking up at the stars. “Bright tonight,” he said. Avery hummed in agreement. “Hey, you know what we should do after the kids fall asleep?” he asked suddenly.

Avery raised an eyebrow at him. “Sleep?”

Joel huffed out a quiet laugh. “I wanna check out that cemetery you guys were talking about,” Joel said.

“At night?” Avery said. “Hell no, it’s creepy enough during the daytime,” she told him.

She’d been back there once before, years ago. There were broken headstones scattered throughout the overgrown grass, and it was shaded by the dam and a dozen trees, making it cooler, even in the heat of summer. It felt like it was a world away from the rest of the camp, quiet and eerie, and Avery had zero plans of ever going back there.

Joel rolled his eyes. “You know what else we could do?” He turned so he was facing Avery.

She tilted her head to look at him. He was smiling softly at her. It was a little scary how quickly he’d become a part of Avery’s life, how she went from knowing nothing about him to trusting that he’d always be by her side.

“I don’t know, Joel, what could we do?” Avery whispered.

Joel’s smile grew, and then he was leaning in. Avery’s eyes closed as their lips met. Joel’s hand was wrapped around one of Avery’s wrists, thumb rubbing absently over the skin there. When he pulled away, he was still smiling. They were sitting closer together than they had been, though Avery wasn’t sure which one of them had moved.

“I’ve been wanting to do that all week,” Joel admitted.

“Well, why didn’t you?” Avery asked, and then she was wrapping a hand around the back of his neck to pull him in for another kiss. She could feel Joel smiling into the kiss, even as he tugged her closer.

Distantly, Avery heard a cabin door open. She pulled away to turn and look, and Joel dropped his head to her shoulder. Avery ran her fingers through his hair at the nape of his neck. Caroline was walking towards them.

“I was going to tell you that the kids are asleep and you two can come back inside, but you seem pretty busy,” she said once she got closer.

They both flipped her off, and she laughed at them as she turned and headed back into the girls’ cabin. Avery shivered in spite of herself then. Joel rubbed his free hand over Avery’s thigh, a little bit for warmth, and a little bit just to touch her, because he could do that now.

“Last day tomorrow,” Joel murmured. Avery leaned closer.

“Don’t wanna talk about that,” she said. She looked back up at the stars, hoping that they would have some answers, for how she was feeling, for how she was going to go back to a normal life after this.

Joel used a finger to pull Avery’s chin towards him again, to press one last kiss to her lips. He used the hand on her wrist to pull her to her feet.

“Better get to bed,” he said, and it sounded a little wistful.

As much as she didn’t want to leave Joel, Avery was cold, and her ass hurt from sitting on the concrete wall for so long. “Walk me to my door?” she asked. The cabin was only a couple hundred feet away, but she was going to hold onto every last moment. Joel held his arm out for her to loop hers through. “Don’t want to get attacked by a raccoon or something,” she added.

Joel ducked his head and stole one last kiss when he dropped her off, Avery’s hand already on the doorknob.

“See you tomorrow,” she whispered to his retreating back.

The last day of camp was always weird. The buses didn’t come to pick up the campers until after lunch, which left several weird hours of downtime to kill in between cabin cleanout and the time everyone actually left camp. Even with everyone still lingering and saying their goodbyes, with the cabins standing empty, camp had an eerie and melancholy feel.

Cleaning out the cabins was always a mad scramble of kids hunting down their belongings and cleaning up week-old messes. They only had half an hour after breakfast before they had to be out of the cabins, and there was never enough time.

“How does someone always lose a towel?” Avery asked Caroline. “How do you not realize you don’t have your swim towel?”

Joel had sat next to Avery at breakfast, like usual, but they hadn’t talked about the night before, or what was going to happen in the future. Avery was trying her best not to think about it. Which is to say, it was all she could think about.

Caroline waved her hand in front of Avery’s face, jarring her back to the present. “What’s going on in that head of yours?” she asked.

“Joel,” Avery admitted.

Caroline smirked. “I can’t believe it took you two that long to get your shit together. Thought for sure you’d be hooking up after the first night.”

Avery shoved at Caroline’s arm until she fell off the path and stepped into the grass, cackling. “Why am I friends with you.” Caroline stepped back on the sidewalk. “I don’t know what we’re gonna do. Summer camp is a whole different world from everything else.”

“I think you’re overthinking this,” Caroline told her. Ahead of them, Joel was helping one of the younger boys carry his heavy bag. Avery sighed.

“I don’t even think he lives around here,” Avery said, remembering when Joel had told them he was from New York. She had never thought to ask how exactly he’d come across their little camp, how he’d ended up in the Midwest.

Caroline shoved her back. “You know how you could find all that out?” she asked. “Talk to him.”

They had caught up to Joel. “Who are we talking to?” he asked, shooting Avery a knowing look.

They lost him in the chaos of trying to organize all the kids’ luggage into the proper bus piles, but he cornered Avery in the basement of the dining hall as she was about the head back upstairs.

“Hi,” she said. He was wearing his hat the right way around for once. Avery reached up and flipped it backwards, so she could pull him down for a quick kiss. Joel’s hand was warm on her waist.

“What was that for?” Joel asked, but he ducked down to steal another kiss. “Heard we needed to talk about something,” he went on, without waiting for Avery to respond. She poked him in the stomach, got him to back off from where he was caging her in against a wall.

“How does this work?” Avery asked. Joel had taken a step back, but he stayed close, close enough that Avery could see the way his eyebrows furrowed when she spoke.

“What do you mean?”

“Camp doesn’t last forever, Joel,” Avery said.

“So what, this has to end?” Joel asked.

Avery took another step away from Joel. “I don’t know, does it?” she snapped. “What even is ‘this,’ anyway?”

Joel stepped closer and took Avery’s hand. “I don’t know, but I know that I like you, and that I want to find out,” he said.

Avery looked up at Joel. The look in his eyes was earnest, genuine. She felt the fight drain out of her. “How do we do that?” she murmured.

“We’ll figure it out as we go, yeah?”

Avery smiled. “Yeah.”

When they made it back upstairs, Caroline was shuffling a deck of cards, and there was a pile of spoons stolen from the kitchen in the middle of the table. Joel was still holding tightly to Avery’s hand as they walked. A couple campers made room for them at the table, and his hand rested on her thigh instead. Avery leaned into his side.

“Deal us in,” she said.

#cait writes things #joel farabee #joel farabee fic #joel farabee imagine #joel farabee fanfiction #nhl fic #nhl imagine #nhl fanfiction #hockey fic #hockey imagine

201 notes · View notes