#i do not have links on hand and its been forever since ive read them

[byksigmatruther]

h. hey do you wanna elaborate about that hirasawa tag on that post . you know which post

ok so in the good old days before hirasawa got on twitter he ran a little blog called Phantom Notes where he'd post assorted short fiction, personal anecdotes, philosophical reflections etc etc. one of these little entries (theres two actually iirc?) details Being Told About Prostate Massage And Health Benefits Thereof. by a gay friend. he then goes about asking "does a prostate massage kill you" (??) and how to buy sex toys. for this friend. of course.

[redxblueihateloveyou]

haaaiii i really-really love pingxie, everything its really make my day ^^

and you really take such a small detail about pingxie at tltr or un, while I even didnt notice that, so for thats thankyou very much

and i want to ask you, ive read at some website for the novel and i was read part where wuxie and xiaoge was searching for i forgot what it was it about a tomb of zhang or smthg wait i think i have a pic of it

that one, i was gonna ask you which part of that story is, at that time that was the updated one but now its not, i lost the link in my lost cellphone. i thought that was from sidestory or something i cant remenber which of it, so maybe you do know about this?? i really-really want to finish that story

by the way, please keep posting about pingxie, its really make my day, i always gone to find some new post about pingxie from you

Hello! :) Awwwws thank you so much! Thats my pleasure lol I myself each time I rewatch esp with notes I still feel like I have Xiaoge's memory bc I'm like "oh damn I forgot it was there" lmao so I'll just gif as I go I guess for all of us nutjobs xD

Ahahaha I was just there!!!!!! I literally was just rereading Restart p2 and recently was on p3. It's from the Mongolia arc "Restart 3: Looking for the Dead in the Sea of Lights" chapter 24. Here you go :) As usual we're treated like a prince and Pangzi has to "run left!" on his own two legs to the forest from a bunch of horses lmao. And Xiaoge "hold on to me baby, we'll lead them away" hgfdsdfjghkf since when we're in a fucking romance novel? Ah yeah right, since forever xDD

Istg Xiaoge and his fucking "I can be your hero baby.mp3" episodes are one of my fav lol. Like Wu Xie isn't impressed enough and hasn't completely lost his mind for him already, he still always does this thing where he tries to look as hot as possible. Sometimes I'm really not sure if he's not waiting for a dramatic entrance like with the snake pit or clams or that time in warehouse xD

And like ok at the beginning he was trying to impress his crush with his stupid smug face:

and up to book 8 with his backwards broken arm and "I just pulled my wrist" I can get those, but the fact that he to this day is like this is just hilarious af

like I get he likes when Wu Xie makes this face:

but seeing a 100 year old turning into a 5 year old trying to impress his husband still gets me rolling on the floor. seriously tf is this lmao:

No, for real he jumped on a horse, leaped over fire (lol???) and lifted him with one hand on his horse? I'm…. lmfao okkk

Or or like that time he "cut the drapes" in UN!!! ROLF PLS

He's legit since book 5 is like that bird of paradise from BBC who is trying to impress his mate lmao. We've been crazy in love for a while now and he's still at it.

P.S. We gotta survive till the next doze next year and then next year until the next one and then after that lol

P.P.S. Oh the unrealistic dream of Reboot part 2 with our bbs pls don't die lmfao

[biolizardboils]

its been 10 days since the movieversary but my CU hyperfixation's still going so heres another one of those Scattered Thoughts posts (minor movie spoilers!)

So i updated the playlist at treehouseblogsinc this week! Idek if Wikplayer still works for most people, but this streak’s five years long and i aint quittin yet! (Usually i just replace song links when they break, but this time i removed a song too cus the guy it references has been Bitch lately)

Speaking of, i did my semi-annual reread of the whole blog too and... man :’’’) Its still mind-blowing how many people played along (and got pissed at Melvin when he took over lmaooo). All the silly, sweet, and angry asks i got there still warm my heart to this day

You know what else i still do to this day? Draw things Pilkey-style! Sometimes i try to follow a rigid anatomy when i draw and feel stuck when it doesnt look right. When that happens, i step back and make a quick Pilk-ish sketch as a reminder to keep things loose. Works every time :)

Something i still love about the movie and the months leading up to it is how much of it felt like a grand... I dont wanna say joke, cus that kinda implies they didnt care when its obvious they truly did. Lets go with prank — it all felt like a grand prank! Like the decisions they made worked in the end, but were also super funny to read and hear about. Like oh my god, they rented Abbey Road Studios to record a choir playing kazoos and singing the word “underpants!” They got the biggest up-and-coming horror director to voice white-ass Melvin Sneedly. (Tho i guess now it can be argued that he’s white-passing in movie!verse, so thats cool)

My fave example of this is how they got Lil Yachty for the album. On one hand, whatever chunk of the limited budget they spent to get him probably could’ve been put to better use, like actually animating the Turbo Toilet fight or something? (While moving the Flip-O-Rama to another scene of course.) On the other hand, its hilarious that they got him to rap the word “cool” 15 times to a cover of Oh Yeah, and then didnt even put it in the movie. Its like George and Harold themselves wrote the stupidest lyrics possible just to see if he’d agree to them, and he did?? Thats comedy gold???

Why didnt i bookmark all the production stuff posted to Instagram. There was so much cool stuff i wanna see again but the search function there is still garbage and uuuughh

So i dont remember if it was production art or fanart but theres this one Instagram post i saw once thats lived in my head ever since. it looked like the cover of Action Comics #1, but with Captain carrying a school bus. If by some miracle somebody has it saved, please send it to me ill be forever in your debt

Im still scared of getting what’s coming to me when the Dog Man movie drops, but now im also wondering if theyll still have George and Harold as a framing device. Ngl i havent caught up with the new books in a hot minute, but ive heard that the boys have stopped appearing in them? if that’s true, that’s Dav’s choice and i have to respect that. ....but also i really wanna see them in CG again. pretty please dreamworks, i miss my sons so much

It mustve been a while since i last watched the movie, cus when i did on the 2nd, the Origin Issue sequence like... broke me all over again. i wrote about why its so great once for a thing that never got made actually, lemme dig that up and paste it in here

The score begins with chiptune and kazoos, two common motifs for childhood whimsy, and already a great fit for this sequence’s simple, handdrawn look. 

But it doesn’t stop there! It goes from what sounds like just two or three people playing kazoos… to a whole chorus of them… which gives way to a full-fledged orchestra. It’s as dramatic a transition as… oh, say, a one-man children’s book to an animated movie by one of the top studios in the industry.

And in turn, as the comic continues, we’re brought closer and closer to the panels until the white gutter between them vanishes, and they engulf the screen. The medium through which this story’s being told has faded from awareness; all that exists now is the story itself. 

But just as suddenly, we’re brought back to our true surroundings. The orchestral music ends, the chiptune returns for one last gentle sting, and we remember this epic tale’s humble origins: a comic book, written and drawn by two 4th graders. *sniff*

Another Score thing i love: you know how Captain is one big Superman parody? I think Shapiro mightve had that in mind when he composed his theme tune, because it starts with a triumphant first three notes (the “Underpaaaaants” part) — just like some of Superman’s! I dont know the right musical terms but cmon, theres a pattern there! And its so touching that they found Captain worthy of a song of that caliber!! Like yes, he IS a true superhero!! heres the epic theme song to prove it!!

Oh wow okay. So to dig up that Writing Thing, i had to open some folders i havent touched in years. And there were outlines for 10 different fanfics in there. I remember not really meaning to finish them ever, just writing them down cus the ideas wouldnt leave me alone. Hell i still dont have time to finish them now

But. Man now i feel bad for never doing anything with them. I have half a mind to post the outlines at least?? Cus someone out there might get a kick out of them?? You know what, if this hyperfixation doesnt peter out in another few days ill probably do it

Speaking of things i havent looked at in years, i listened to this song while typing all this and im tearing up now send post

[dirk-has-rabies]

Gender variance and it's link with neurodivergency

Okay so this is it going to be another long one

All quotes will be sourced with a link to the scientific journal I took it from

Okay Tumblr, let's talk gender (I know, your favorite topic) my preface on why this topic matters to me is: I'm autistic ( diagnosed moderate to severe autism) I'm nonbinary trans ( in a way that most non-autistic people don't understand and actually look down on)  and I went to college for gender study ( Mostly for intersex studies but a lot of my research was around non-binary and trans identities) I will be using the term autism as pants when I have experience with however when ADHD is part of the study I will use ND which stands for neurodivergent and yes this is going to be about xenogenders and neopronouns.

autism can affect gender the same way autism can affect literally every part of an identity. a big thing about having autism is the fact that it completely can change how you view personhood and time and object permanence and gender and literally all types of socially constructed ideas. let me also say hear that just because Society creates and enforces an idea does it mean that it doesn't exist to all people it just me that there is no nature law saying that it's real and the “rules” for these ideas can change and delete and create as time and Society evolves and changes.  gender is one of those constructs.

Now I'll take it by you reading this you know what transgender people are  (if you don't understand what a trans person is send me an ask and I'll type you up a pretty little essay lmao,  or Google it but that's a scary thought sense literally any Source or website can come up on Google including biased websites so be careful I guess LOL) anyway to be super basic trans people are anyone who doesn't identify as the gender they were assigned at Birth (yes that includes non-binary people I could do a whole nother essay about that shit how y'all keep spreading trying to separate non-binary people from the trans umbrella)  some people don't like to use the label and that is totally fine by the way.

now autistic people to view the world in a way differently than allistic (neurotypical) ppl do.  we don't take everything people teach us at 100% fact and we tend to question everything and demand proof and evidence for things before we can set it as a fact in our brains. This leads to why a lot of autistic people are atheist (although a lot of religions and this is not bashing on religious people at all I am actually a Jewish convert)  this questioning leads to a lot of social constructs being ignored or not understood At All by a lot of autistic people and personally I think that's a good thing.  allistics take everything their parents and teachers and schools teach them as fact until someone else says something and then they pick which ones to believe. autistic people study and research and learn about a topic before forming an opinion and while this may lead to them studying and believing very biased material and spitting it out as fact it can also lead them to try and Discover it is real by themselves.

because of this autistic people are more question their gender or not fall in a binary way at all as the concept of gender makes no sense to a lot of us. “ if gender is a construct then autistic people who are less aware of social norms are less likely to develop a typical gender identity”

no really look: “ children and teens with autism spectrum disorder ASD or Attention Deficit Hyperactive Disorder ADHD  are much more likely to express a wish to be the opposite sex compared with their typical developing peers” That was posted in 2014. we have been saying this stuff forever but no one wants to listen. the thing is gender variance (being not cisgender or at least questioning it)  has always been closely hand-in-hand with autistic and ADHD people I'm even the doctor who did that study understood right away that it all made sense the whole time: “ Dr. Strang said they were initially surprised to find an overrepresentation of gender variance among children with ADHD. However, they later realized that prior studies have shown increased levels of disruptive behavior and other behavioral problems among young people with gender variance”  SEE YOURE NOT WEIRD YOURE JUST YOU AND YOURE NOT ALONE IN THIS!!

5% autistic people who did the study were trans or questioning. it was also equal between the Sexes fun fact. that may not seem like a lot till you realize that the national average is only .7% that's literally over 700% higher than the national average. That's so many! and that's just in America.

 in Holland there was a study in 2010 “ nearly 8% of the more than 200 Children and adolescents referred to a clinic for gender dysphoria also came up positive on a assessment for ASD” they weren't even testing for ADHD so the numbers could be even higher!

now I want to talk about a  certain section of the trans umbrella that a lot of autistic people fall under called the non-binary umbrella. non-binary means anything that isn't just male or just female. it is not one third gender and non-binary doesn't mean that you don't have a gender. just clearing that up since cis people keep spreading that. non-binary is an umbrella term for any of the infinite genders you could use or create. now this is where I'm going to lose a bunch of you and that's okay because you don't have to understand our brains or emotions To respect us as real people. not many allistics can understand how we see and think and relate to things and that's okay you don't have to understand everything but just reading about this could be so much closer to respecting us for Who We Are from you've ever been and that's better than being against us just for existing.

now you might have heard of my Mutual Lars who was harassed  by transmeds for using the term Autigender (I was going to link them but if it gets traction I don't want them to get any hate)  since a lot of people roll their eyes at that  and treated them disgustingly for using a term that 100% applied correctly.  Autigender  is described as " a neurogender which can only be understood in the context of being autistic or when one's autism greatly affects one's gender or how one experiences gender. Autigender is not autism as a gender, but rather is a gender that is so heavily influenced by autism that one's autism and one's experience of gender cannot be unlinked.” Now tell me that doesn't sound a lot like this entire essay I've been working on with full sources…..

xenogenders and neopronouns are a big argument point on whether or not people “believe” in non binary genders but a big part of those genders is that they originated from ND communities and are ways that we can try to describe what gender means us in a way that cis or even allistic trans people just can't comprehend or ever understand. Same with MOGAI genders or sexualities. A lot of these are created as a way to somehow describe an indescribable relationship with gender that is so personal you really cant explain it to anyone who isnt literally the same as you.

Even in studies done with trans autistic people a large amount of them dont even fall on a yes or no of having a gender at all and fall in some weird inbetween where you KINDA have a gender but its not a gender in the sense that others say it is but its also too much of a gender so say youre agender. And this is the kind of stuff that confuses allistic trans people and makes them think nonbinary genders are making stuff up for attention, which isnt true at all we just cant explain what it feels like to BE a trans autistic person to anyone who doesnt ALREADY know how it feels.

In this study out of the ppl questioned almost HALF of the autistic trans individuals had a “Sense of identity revolving around interests” meaning their gender and identity was more based off what they liked rather than boy or girl. That makes ppl with stuff like vampgender or pupgender make a lot more sense now doesnt it? We see that even in the study: “My sense of identity is fluid, just as my sense of gender is fluid […] The only constant identity that runs through my life as a thread is ‘dancer.’ This is more important to me than gender, name or any other identifying features… even more important than mother. I wouldn't admit that in the NT world as when I have, I have been corrected (after all Mother is supposed to be my primary identification, right?!) but I feel that I can admit that here. (Taylor)” and an agreement from another saying “Mine is Artist. Thank you, Taylor. (Jessie)” now dont you think if they grew up with terms like artistgender or dancergender they would just YOINK those up right away????

In fact “An absence of a sense of gender or being unsure of how their gender should “feel” was another common report” because as ive said before in this post AUTISTIC PEOPLE DONT SEE GENDER THE WAY ALLISTIC PEOPLE SEE IT. therefore we wont use the same terms or have the same identities nor could we explain it to anyone who doesnt already understand or question the same way! Participants even offered up quotes such as “As a child and even now, I don't ‘feel’ like a gender, I feel like myself and for the most part I am constantly trying to figure out what that means for me (Betty)” and also “I don't feel like a particular gender I'm not even sure what a gender should feel like (Helen)”

Now i know this isnt going to change everyones minds on this stuff but i can only hope that it at least helped people feel like theyre not broken and not alone in their feelings about this. You dont have to follow allistic rules. You dont have to stop searching inside for who you really wanna be. And you dont have to pick or choose terms forever because just as you grow and evolve so may your terms. Its okay to not know what or who you are and its okay to identify as nonhuman things or as your interests because what you love and what you do is a big part of who you are and shapes you everyday. Its not a bad thing! Just please everyone, treat ppl with respect and if you dont understand something that doesnt make it bad or wrong it just means its not for you. And thats okay.

[callmeelle22]

Blue Dream VIII

Pairing: Iris West x Barry Alen

Rating: E

Chapter Word Count: 9, 182

Summary: A series of sporadic dates between Iris and Barry turn into something more, a story in its own making.

Chapter I: Primetime

Chapter II: It's Cool

Chapter III: Anything

Chapter IV: Comfortable

Chapter V: The Way

Chapter VI: Say Yes

Chapter VII: Brave

Chapter VIII: Blue Dream; Her eyes close and she lets herself lie in the feeling: opens a space for him to stay as he slides his tongue against hers; lets the feel of his mouth on her pull her from the dream she swears she’s been living since she first laid eyes on him; stencils the same story back onto him, plotting out a scene that only ends after forever comes and goes. She lets the kiss say what she can’t yet, reminds herself that he’s talking with it too, that he’s telling her what she’d seen in his eyes yesterday, and in his touch the week before, and in the curve of his smiles weeks before that. (Read below or on AO3 linked on the chapter title.)

Chapter IX: He Loves Me

We were coastin' on the coast when you opened my eyes

Made me notice where the ocean was holding the sky, right

I was blinded, your smile shining behind those green eyes

The horizon so enticing, please, say you'll be mine

The second Friday in the month of November finds Iris at home as she usually is, tucked into her living room sofa, a large glass of wine on the coffee table in front of her, right next to a loaded pipe.

This week in particular has been grueling, though in the best way. Her classes are going swimmingly, so much so that she might be able to skip the final in her multimedia journalism course; but that means she has to stay on top of every single assignment, making sure everything she turns in is up to par. Not only that, Her segment on Good Morning, Central City is in less than a week, and with the television promotions for it, there has been an increase in traffic on her blog, an increase in comments on her posts, an increase in stories in her inbox waiting to be told. It’s mind-boggling, and Iris finds herself so giddy, she doesn’t always know what to do with it.

Some of it she channels into Barry. Since opening up to one another after Barry’s visit to his dad, everything about them has been more: more exciting, more passionate, more intimate. Iris can honestly say that she’s never been fucked as well as Barry fucks her, and she can’t decide if that’s just because apparently nothing turns her on more than Barry sliding thick and slow into her and muttering, ‘yes, take all of me, baby; good, good girl,’ or if she feels the way she feels because it’s him, because he is a dream of a man, some fantasy she must have conjured up in a daydream she doesn’t remember having. She finds herself always wanting him: the heavy fullness of him, and the way he smiles at her every time he sees her after they’ve been separated for even minutes; the whispered words of ardor, and how his eyes always track her movements, watching and observing and cataloging; the feel of him lean and long and hard on top of her, and the attention with which he listens to her, validates her.

And when she thinks she needs even a moment from that, there is her Friday night ritual. She’s already showered and dressed in a silk nightgown, this one in a deep purple color with thin straps and an open back. She takes a sip of her wine as she scrolls through her phone looking for a song; she chooses one, don’t wake me up ‘cause i’m in love with all that you are, and then she settles into the sofa corner, pipe in hand. Lighting up, she inhales, and releases.

She is full and high when her phone rings sometime around midnight.

Movements slow, she grabs her phone from where she’d tossed it on the table next to the half-empty carton of pad thai. Barry’s name flashes on the screen over the picture taken of them at Wally’s birthday party. Her smile is easy and so is the absurd little flutter in her belly.

(But high Iris will concede that, while she figures she should be past this stage now, this jittery, nervous stage, she’s not at all ashamed that it is still how she feels, because there is something so delightful about being with someone who gives you butterflies, even as time keeps passing).

Her stomach dips as she brings the phone to her ear. “Hello.”

“Hey, baby.” The sound of his voice, a little bit deeper than normal, a little bit slower than normal, makes her stomach tighten even more.

“Hi, Bear.”

It’s then that she notices the sound in the background, music and loud voices. She thinks she hears someone saying, “Barry, are you talking to your girlfriend?” but then Barry hushes them and comes back onto the line.

“What are you doing, beautiful?”

“What I’m always doing on Friday nights.”

“Getting high in those sexy pajamas you like wearing?”

Iris laughs softly, noting the effect of his voice on her, how even over the phone and even when he’s apparently surrounded by people, it travels, quiet and steady, over her skin.

“Are you drunk, Barry?”

“A little bit,” he says, “mostly tired though.”

Iris shifts on the sofa, snuggling deeper into the couch. “Where are you?”

“I don’t know. At some bar with Cisco and Chester. We were only supposed to grab food and a couple beers but then they had some sort of two for one special happening, and Chester and Cisco are degenerates, so here we are.”

Iris shakes her head at that, and there’s a short pause before Barry speaks again.

“I miss you.”

“You saw me yesterday.” The part of Iris that wants to appear less affected by him is glad that he can’t see the grin that lights her eyes as her cheeks warm, as she bites her bottom lip. “And we talked this morning.”

“Hmmm,” Barry hums. “Tell me you miss me.”

“What if I don’t?” Her taunt is quiet, like the whisper of her hands on her own body, trailing along her thighs at the hem of her nightgown.

There’s another pause and the sound behind lowers a little, becomes duller. Her own music comes to her attention again, you make me see the truth in things, i think that you are, the remedy for everything, it seems that you are, the truth itself ‘cause nothing else can take me so far, and it makes her shiver from the truth of it.

“I wouldn’t believe it,” Barry tells her, finally. “Yeah, I saw you yesterday, but I had you shaking on top of me.”

“Faking it,” she quips back and Barry lets out a small bark of laughter.

“Tell me you miss me, Iris.”

She licks her lips slowly, thinking of last night when she had seen him, the encounter he’s talking about, when he’d had her climb into his lap after dinner at her small little dining table and fucked her right there.

“Tell me, baby.”

“Yeah, I miss you, you cocky jackass.”

His answering chuckle was a low thing, deep and dirty. “Now tell me what your pajamas look like tonight?

“Barry, are you asking me this around your friends?”

“No. I'm standing outside of the bathrooms now. Boys' night shifted when they saw a couple of pretty women and I got tired of fifth-wheeling. And I couldn't stop thinking about you.”

She can picture him, standing in the corner and leaning against a wall, a hand in his pocket as he clutches the phone to his ear; his cheeks are probably rosy with his indulgence and his lips pink from licking at them, his hair messy from touching it.

His voice dips again. “Now tell me.”

Iris can admit to herself that she likes when Barry gets a little stern with her, when his voice deepens and he sounds so sure of what he wants, what he needs from her. It makes goosebumps crawl along her skin, and it does so doubly now, her senses already loose, dipping into the warm, heady place that intoxication takes her.

“It’s a nightgown,” she explains. “Purple. Silk. Stops at the middle of my thighs. Has a low back.”

His groan is loud and clear. “You had to come from one of my dreams. There’s no way you’re real.”

The statement sobers Iris, if only a little, but enough that the smooth and easy flow of her breathing stutters, much like the beat of her heart, stilling until she thinks she’s gonna lose breath, and then hammering back.

“I could say the same for you.”

The responding silence is piercing, expansive, a space where words left still unsaid are scattered along the floor, merely waiting for one of them to pick it up and say it.

“Iris,” he starts, and then he pauses again. “Can I come over? I know it’s your self-care night, and you can tell me no, but I need to… I really just want to see you.”

She doesn’t even think about it. “Yeah, Barry. You can come over.”

Twenty minutes later, she peels herself off of the sofa to open the door for him. He’s standing on the other side, in dark blue chinos and a baby blue and white checkered shirt, his favorite tan desert boots on his feet. His hands are stuffed in his pockets and he’s leaning against the door frame when she pulls it open. His hair is a mess and his jaw is covered in stubble, but other than the faint red tinge in his cheeks, there is nothing that tells her he isn’t as lucid as talking to her had made him seem.

She smiles up at him, aware that her own eyes are probably low and red, but he smiles back, just as softly. He doesn’t come in right away, instead reaching out to pull her to him, one big hand holding the back of her neck. He looks down at her, eyes traveling down the length of her body.

“Hey my good girl,” he greets at last, and before she can respond, he leans down and kisses her. The kiss is chaste at first, one peck and another. Then he pulls back, only enough to scoop her up, gripping her by her waist and settling her in front of him, her legs wrapping easily around his hips. She yelps at the action, but then he’s kissing her again, and they’re moving into the apartment, Iris noting the faint slam of her door behind them.

He carries her to the couch and drops down in the center of it, keeping her atop him, keeping his mouth on hers. The kiss is slow, so slow, the sort of kiss that has no purpose, not one other than allowing them the space to be together. He holds on to her by her hip, free hand trailing up and down the length of her exposed spine, but he doesn’t make any move anywhere else. He seems content to just kiss her, this deep, open-mouthed kiss.

It’s like he’s trying to get inside of her, to climb in and settle down, to take up space with his searing, insidious presence.

It’s as if he’s trying to tell himself that this isn’t a dream, that it’s really her, it’s really them, moaning into each other, holding onto each other, breathing each other in.

It’s as though he’s trying to cement their story, to write it clear into her skin so that she can’t deny it’s veracity, like he’s promising that the only thing she’ll get on the other side of her climax is this, a gentle, effortless sort of fall.

Her eyes close and she lets herself lie in the feeling: opens a space for him to stay as he slides his tongue against hers; lets the feel of his mouth on her pull her from the dream she swears she’s been living since she first laid eyes on him; stencils the same story back onto him, plotting out a scene that only ends after forever comes and goes. She lets the kiss say what she can’t yet, reminds herself that he’s talking with it too, that he’s telling her what she’d seen in his eyes yesterday, and in his touch the week before, and in the curve of his smiles weeks before that.

When he pulls back, Iris cannot say how much time has passed. She only knows that her body has molded to the shape of him, that her heart has found the rhythm of his, that she’s there with him, my afternoon dream when the world is speedin’, i am still sleepin’, in my blue dream.

“What was that about?” she asks him. She stares back at him, and the way he looks at her is more intoxicating than the wine he’d just tasted on her tongue, more so than the weed that so effortlessly floods her bloodstream.

“Told you I missed you,” he replies, voice husky with exhaustion, and likely the arousal she doesn’t think ever really disappears.

She nods, a little dazed. They sit together for a while longer; Iris tucks her head into Barry’s neck and he keeps rubbing his warm hands along her spine. The atmosphere is delicate, peaceful. She takes him in, inhaling the citrusy scent of him, savoring the feel of him so close to her, surrounding her. They stay that way until Iris feels her own exhaustion tugging at her. She climbs off of him and, after turning off her music, she pulls him through her bedroom and into her bathroom. They brush their teeth, Barry with the toothbrush that he’d bought to keep at hers, and Iris reties the silk scarf she’s wearing on her head.

Inside her room, Barry strips down to his boxers, laying his clothes neatly on the arm of the chair by her window. They get into bed, Barry spooning her, his arm holding her tight against him. She settles in, fitting herself snuggly against him, and he kisses her temple before resuming his stroking, this time on her belly through her nightgown. It doesn’t take long for her to drift off, her breathing deepening before evening out. And just before she goes under, she hears it, Barry muttering, “I love you, Iris,” into her hair, so low that she’s sure she’s only just dreaming it.

When Iris wakes up, the first thing that happens is she hears it again, hears him, Barry’s night-rough voice whispering “I love you, Iris.” It runs in her head on a loop, an anaphora to every other thought, every question she’s having: i love you, iris, did he think she was asleep? i love you, iris, did he mean it? i love you, iris, does he want her to say it back? i love you, iris, i love you, iris, i love you, iris.

Over the past few weeks, Iris has become more comfortable with the idea of it, with the reality that what she feels for Barry is real and big and grand. It still takes her aback, how quickly she’d, they’d, fallen into it. As naturally wary as Iris is, she can’t discount what she’d felt last night when he’d kissed her, when he started into her, like she was the sun and the stars and every other bright light in the galaxy all at once; with awe and reverence and yearning; like he wanted to be consumed by her, and he didn’t care how close he got to that fiery, burning light, as long as she was standing there waiting for him.

And it’s enchanting to be looked at like that. Iris has been trying to get it out on paper, that feeling, trying to make sense of the contradictions: the fear that comes with caring about someone enough that they could break you; the power that follows knowing it’s the same for him too; the overall potency that comes with falling in love.

Still, the thought of saying it aloud, right now—when she’s still working on writing it all out, still trying to explain it to herself first—makes her seize up, her eyes darting wildly, her limbs frozen in anxiety.

Barry begins to shift behind her, loosening his arm from around her, and she takes the opportunity to slide out of the bed. She pads across her carpeted bedroom floor into the bathroom where her feet meet cold tiles. She uses the bathroom, washes her hands and brushes her teeth, and throws water on her face. She catches a glimpse of herself in the mirror, chocolate brown eyes bright in her face, her skin clear, her mouth turned down in consternation.

She goes back out into her room. Barry is fully away now, lying on his back, both of his hands cradling the back of his head. Her comforter is pooled at his hips. She takes in his bare chest, the way his biceps bulge in this position, how clear his eyes look in the sun, even as his lids are low with sleep. Those candy eyes catch her as she walks over to him, staying on her as she kneels on the bed and crawls over him, settling herself on top of him. He’s half hard under her and he lets out a soft little grunt when she sits her butt right on his crotch.

“You sleep okay?” she asks him as he reaches up and traces at his iris tattoo. She loves it, the violet ink that has sunk into his skin, the hints of blue and orange giving it depth, the fact that it’s an iris, placed big and pretty over his heart.

“Are you alright?” he asks instead of answering her question. His voice is still sleep-rough and scratchy. The sound of it sends a soft little tremble through her.

She smiles, the gesture real but uncertain. Well, maybe not uncertain, but she’s aware that she’s in her head again, trying to parse through her feelings. Or, rather, trying to figure out which of her feelings is taking precedence, which one she thinks that she should address first.

“Yes, I’m okay.”

Barry hums as he drags a hand from behind his head, placing it at her hip. “You know it’s okay not to be, right? Okay, I mean. And you can talk to me about it, whatever it is.”

He gives her hip a squeeze.

“No, I am okay. I’m good, really. I just…” she licks her lips as she hesitates, unsure if she’s even ready to bring it up, unsure if she even should. But she knows that she’ll think about it all day, will hear it in her head all day, will wonder and question and drive herself sick with the thoughts of it. So she bites the bullet, lets out a long exhale, and takes him at his word that she can talk about it.

“I heard what you said. Before we fell asleep last night.”

His expression doesn’t change, but his entire body stiffens, his hands stilling on her hip. He doesn’t break, though, and continues to watch her face in that way that he does. For a moment, Iris wonders if he even remembers what he said, if the words were just some half-drunk confession he hadn’t actually meant to say,

(and the flicker of disappointment that follows is tangible, an almost visceral response that tells her much more than anything else could have).

“Okay,” he says after a moment, tilting his head. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

She wishes she was as good at reading him as he is at reading her. She’s supposed to be able to make the observations, to understand the truth behind what people don’t say. Sometimes she thinks that she can, thinks that when she really looks at him, she can see what’s simmering in those eyes, can understand his intentions in the grip of his hands, and the curve of his spine, and the shape of his mouth. But it doesn’t feel constant, not like he is with her, and that fact is doubly true right now. Because she can’t tell anything about what he’s thinking, his only tell being the way his hand is still on her hip, tighter than it was before, holding her to him.

“I don’t know,” she tells him, truthfully. “Did you mean it?”

For the first time, he averts his eyes, gazing over at the window. There’s nothing to see; the blinds are closed and the curtains are drawn, but he focuses there for several long seconds, brows furrowed and lips pursed. She blinks, and then she’s suffused with something foreign, something cold and bitter.

“You didn’t,” she says, and it isn’t a question. “Okay, that’s, that’s…”

She moves to climb off of him, but he’s quick, bringing her back by sitting up and wrapping both of his arms around her.

“Where are you going? I’m not done.”

Her eyes flash. “Well you haven’t said anything and I don’t need to sit here like this and listen to you tell me that you didn’t mean to say you love me.”

“What are you upset about, Iris?”

“I’m not upset, Barry,” she says, her frustration evident. She tries to move again, but he holds on to her. “It’s fine. Of course you didn’t mean it. It’s only been a few months. We’re just…”

“We’re just what, Iris?”

He’s looking at her again, with those pretty, too-knowing eyes, and she feels a little like she can’t breathe. Because he didn’t mean it. And the thought that she’d managed to get this all so wrong is, is horrifying.

“I don’t know,” she mumbles, and even though she didn’t actually believe it to be true, she continues, “sex, I guess. Apparently.”

She shifts again, but he tightens his grips even more and she can’t understand it, why he’s still surrounding her like this, the look of him and the smell of him and the feel of him so potent.

“Is that really what you think?” he asks, and he doesn't sound angry so much as annoyed. “That I’m just here for sex. When it’s you that initiated all of our first encounters, when…”

Her eyes widen. “Oh, fuck you, Barry. Like all that slick talking isn’t initiating. You’ve got some fucking nerve.”

This time, when she tries to yank away from him, he lets her; and with a grace she doesn’t feel, she climbs off the bed. She strides towards the living room, but she doesn’t get far because Barry grabs her by the arm and presses her body against the wall near the door.

“Let me go, Barry,” she says, heart hammering angrily against her rib cage. He releases her arm immediately, but he cages her in, planting his hands on the walls on either side of her.

“Look at me, Iris,” he commands, his voice a raspy whisper. She blinks over his shoulder, taking in the messy blue comforter on her queen bed in the middle of the room, and the pale cream curtains on the windows to the right that don’t hide much light, and the blue and cream striped lounge chair where Barry’s clothes are.

“Baby, please,” he tries again, and it’s the pleading that makes her turn.

He looks a little like he sounds, frazzled and out of sorts, his eyes darting quickly across her face and the shadow at his jaw far past 5 o’clock.

“I meant it.” The words come out softly, a little strained, and he blinks once, twice, before repeating. “I meant it. I love you. I’m in love with you.”

“No,” Iris shakes her head. “You’re just saying that now. You didn’t mean it.”

Barry lets out a heavy sigh as he steps back from her. She doesn’t move, though, she can’t. Instead, she watches him, her body lost in the turmoil of the past few minutes. He walks towards the bed, then steps away again, stepping in a circle before coming back to her. This time, when he looks at her, she sees it, him, his feelings.

“You looked terrified this morning, Iris,” he explains, “thinking about what I said. I think that I can read you, that I can see into what you aren’t saying to me. I see the way that you look at me, the way that we are together, and I can swear that you also…”

“What if that’s just sexual chemistry?” she interrupts, because she’s still spiraling, her body still so heavy with the range of emotions she’s experienced in the span of just minutes. And what if he really didn’t mean it, what if she’d actually started writing this story wrong, what if this has all been some dream she’s just starting to wake up from.

Barry stops pacing to look at her, incredulous, and then he narrows his eyes at her.

“Is that really what you think, Iris?” He steps, no stalks, towards her, steps slow and measured. He looks up and down the length of her, eyes lingering at the spread of her hips, the dip of her cleavage, before settling on her face. “You really think that the way we are together is, is just sex?”

She opens her mouth but doesn’t answer, and he closes the distance between them. He stands so close that she has to throw her head back against the wall in order to see up at him.

(She tries but can’t find it in herself to be ashamed of what this does to her, even as she’s not happy with him, having his attention on her like this, having his hard length pressed against her like this, the look of him and the smell of him and the feel of him like this.)

“I know that no one else fucks you like I do, Iris.”

That makes her snap and he pushes at him and he stumbles back near the bed. “You’re a smug fucking bastard, Barry Allen.”

She moves to grab her phone off the counter, intending to, she doesn’t know, throw it at his head. But then she’s plucked off her feet. She squeals as he tosses her onto her back and straddles her hips, holding her by her arms above her head. She bares her teeth at him, but doesn’t try to get away from him this time. She’s breathing heavily, and he is too, and for a second, Iris thinks that this love stuff is too much. Because that’s what’s going on here, isn’t it? It’s their first fight and it’s about love, about the fact that they’d slipped into it so simply that they (and by they, she means she) is finding it difficult to just let it be.

“I don’t mean it in an arrogant way, Iris,” he murmurs. “I just… you are a fucking goddess, baby, and if you’d ever been with anyone the way you are with me, there’s no way they would have ever let you go.”

He presses down on her arms a little, presses his hips into hers a little. “And no one has ever made me feel like this, the way that you do, in bed and out of it. And you don’t have to say it back. Not until you’re ready. I meant what I said but I didn’t think you would hear me. I just needed to say it.”

His eyes roam her face and she stares back. Her breathing has begun to level out, but she’s still left with, with adrenaline or something, a heavy, aching sort of feeling flooding through her, making her warm and jittery and, and wet. Which, she’s never been turned on by arguing before, but, by god, she is. She is. Turned on and in love and so gone on the man above her that she doesn’t think of anything at all before she leans up and kisses him.

For the first time since they’ve started doing this, Barry doesn’t take his time. He kisses her back, just as hard, the kiss more teeth and tongue than mouth. He keeps a hold of her arms in one of his big hands and then reaches down to push her dress up over her hips, lifting his own hips just enough that he can pull himself out of his boxers and spread her legs, hiking them over his waist. He doesn’t bother with taking her panties off; he just yanks them over to the side, probably ripping the delicate lace, and then runs a couple of his sure fingers through her slit to see if she’s wet enough to take him. Satisfied, he grips himself and then slides into her.

“Fuuuuuuck,” he groans, dragging the word out, and Iris seconds that, throwing her head back at the heavy, hard, full feeling of him. He gives her one experimental thrust, and then another, and then he’s setting a pace, fucking into her in hard, shallow strokes. He clenches hard around her, her head filled with the press of his body and the smell of his skin and the thought of his love, i know the meaning’, for all the seasons, you are the reason, my love. Then Barry leans down on her, so that his chest brushes her nipples and his pelvis rubs against her clit every time he rocks into her, and her head clears of everything but this.

“God,” she moans, eyes fluttering closed.

He moves his mouth to her ear as he picks up his pace, murmuring as he always does, “fuck, baby, yes, you feel so good, girl; my good girl, shit” but his words aren’t as smooth as they usually are. He is frayed, his breathing choppy and his pace brutal. She likes it though. Her pussy grows wetter with every thrust, her hips rocking up to meet him, and she breathes out through her nose when she finds her mouth stuck in a round “o.” They’re both slick from the exertion and Iris can’t tell if it’s his sweat or hers or theirs. He holds on to the meat of her thigh, widening her so that he can ride her deeper, harder. She drips, down onto her thighs, soaking him too, and she knows that were she to look down, his dick would be so obscenely slick with her. He kisses at her ear, down to her neck, along her jaw, biting and licking and sucking on her skin. His grip on her is hard, and it isn’t so much rough as it is raw, inelegant and sensual and crude and so so so so good.

The thought of it is just as arousing as the act of it, and Iris manages to breathe out, “shit, Bear, how, how, how are you always so gooood?”

He flashes her a grin, her Barry coming back to her, and he says into her ear, “because it’s us, baby. Because I love you and you’re falling for me and we were meant for this.”

When Iris comes, it’s so hard she swears she goes blind for a minute. The world darkens and all she can do is feel: passion and euphoria and ecstasy and every other expression like it.

She’s thirty minutes late meeting Linda for their monthly brunch..

She and Barry shower together, and she drops him off at his car downtown and then she drives the couple blocks over to Golden’s. Before he gets out, he leans over and kisses her, a long slow sort of kiss, licking deep into her mouth as he cradles her face gently in the palm of his hand, and then he taps the top of her car twice before ambling over to his jeep without saying a word.

She feels a little funny after all of that, wondering why she still hadn't been able to say the words to him. He hadn’t said much to her as they’d dressed and gotten ready to leave her apartment. But he hadn’t stopped touching her either: taking her loofah from her and washing her down in the shower, running his hand over her hip after she’d hopped into a pair of light denim boyfriend jeans, rubbing on her thigh as she’d driven them downtown. She doesn’t think he’s upset with her; he’d told her she didn’t have to say it back. But he’d retreated, at least verbally, and it’s fucking with her, making her realize how much her fear is keeping her from him.

Golden’s is already open by the time she gets there so she walks in through the front door, throwing a hand up at Kamilla as she heads to the back in her stiletto heeled ankle booties, tugging lightly at the long, faux pearl necklace lying over her white half tucked in sweater. It’s packed as usual, the Saturday lunch crowd filling most of the seats, and she has to walk around chairs half pushed in and groups of people laughing and enjoying their Saturday.

She slides into the booth across from her best friend, the table already littered with food, Linda’s mango mimosa mostly gone. The other woman looks up at her, perusing, her brown eyes curious. Iris ignores her to grab her champagne flute, dropping a frozen mango slice into the glass and pouring a smidge of juice in, topping it off with champagne. She downs half of it in one gulp.

“You’ve been fucked,” is the first thing Linda says, when she finally decides to speak.

Iris chokes on her swallow of mimosa.

“Freshly,” Linda adds. Her red painted lips curve up in a devious little grin. “Is that big ass hickey you’re sporting the reason you’re late?”

She rolls her eyes, but touches gently at where she knows it’s sitting, an uneven patch of darkened flesh about the size of a quarter on her neck just under her left ear. She’d been in too much of a daze while she was putting on her minimal makeup earlier, the moisturizer and a little concealer, a bit of bronzer on her lids, liner and mascara. She hadn’t noticed the hickey, not until she was putting on her lipstick in the car and she didn’t have any foundation to cover it with.

“I’m too old to have a hickey,” she says to Linda instead of responding to her question.

“Tell your boo that,” Linda responds.

Iris wrinkles her nose at “boo” and starts spooning some sticky sesame chicken onto her plate. She forks a dumpling and bites at it as she goes for the lo mein and she doesn’t realize she’s reaching for the edamame until Linda stills her hand.

“Okay, what’s up?”

Iris chews the rest of her dumpling. “What are you talking about?”

“You’re eating.”

“Is that not why we’re here?”

“No, I mean you’re eating, doing that thing where you just throw food into your mouth without stopping or even really tasting it. You only do it when you’re really anxious and there’s no notebook or wine handy.”

Iris stills with a piece of shrimp in her hand. She drops it back onto the platter and sits back into the booth, chewing and swallowing while Linda waits patiently, sipping from her glass.

And then she blurts, “I’m in love with Barry.”

Linda nods, not yet committing to a response. “Okay.”

“And he told me he’s in love with me and I didn’t say it back.” Iris lets out a breath, tension releasing like a pressure valve has been turned.

“Why didn’t you say it back?”

“Because I’m a coward,” she answers.

Linda’s head shake is automatic, her brown waves brushing at her neck. “There’s not a hint of coward in you, baby girl.” Iris takes her best friend’s white silk blouse just as she says, “Now why don’t you really tell me what’s up.”

To give herself some time to put it all together, she finishes her mimosa and mixes another, though this one with less champagne, and she eats another dumpling, chewing slowly. Then she clears her throat.

“For a while now, I’ve been feeling, I don't know, lost. I was single, school was boring. Work was too, and it seemed like all of you were moving forward while I was just watching. Nothing felt exciting, not even my blog really. And then Barry came along, and I swear, the moment I saw him, it’s like my entire world lit up. There was this, this spark, and even when I was claiming that he was just around for sex, there was always this feeling that it was bigger than all of that, bigger than anything I’ve felt before.

And suddenly, I feel so different. I feel good, Linda. Everything is starting to feel good. My blog is getting real recognition now and Dr. Jamison must also be getting good sex because she’s been an actual joy to be around. And Barry...and Barry is…”

“Putting you to sleep every night?”

It makes her laugh, the way Linda wiggles her eyebrows as she says it, the way her eyes light up with mirth, the way her smile is a soft thing.

“Yeah, he is,” Iris says, her mouth twisting wryly. “But what if it’s a fluke, Linda? This man is everything I’ve wanted in a man and so much more than I even knew I wanted. What if we do this and I learn that he’s been, just, fucking with me this whole time?”

“You know that’s not true, Iris.” Linda picks up her own glass and drains it.

“But how can I trust this?” she pushes. “This happiness that seems to have only come when Barry stepped into my life?”

Linda reaches over and grabs Iris’s hand, and Iris clasps it like a lifeline, her pale orange tipped fingers pressing hard into Linda’s hand and Linda’s own pink tipped fingers pressing back. “There are no guarantees. So maybe we do find out that Barry has been faking this entire time. But what if he’s not? What if he’s as kind and loving as you say he is? ” She lets that digest for a moment.

“Love, and life, is a series of ups and downs, of good experiences and bad, Iris. The timing of it all is just coincidence. And I hear you. It feels so scary to realize that someone has that sort of power over you; that the care of your heart is in their hands. But what I’m learning with Dan is that love, love is always worth it. Because what you’re feeling, it doesn’t go away just because you don’t say it back, just because you don’t acknowledge it. And when you don’t you risk cutting it, him, off, and you’ll get hurt anyway. And that, my love, will be your own fault.”

Iris thinks about Linda’s words as they finish brunch, moving the conversation to Linda’s upcoming trip to meet Dan’s family. She thinks about it as she gets into her car and drives back home, forgoing working on a story in favor of plopping down on the couch and letting music play, my mind is open, so wide since you came inside, i feel so alive, without you life just passes by, passes by, lost in the reality of what she’s feeling.

She thinks about the words as she goes out to grab dinner, picking up a salad for herself and a chicken sandwich and fries for Barry, the intention to take him food not one fully realized until she’s parking in front of the precinct that Barry works out of.

She thinks about the words because Linda is right.

(She would never tell the other woman this, but she is right more often than she’s not, her poise and curious nature making her one to offer sound advice, always realistic and with love.)

She loves him, she does: his wit and his hands and his eyes; his compliments and his patience and ability to make her feel as if everything he’s ever wanted is present in the curves of her body; as if it is his profound pleasure to coax it out of her, with every touch, every moan, every dirty, mumbled thing.

Buoyed by the fact that she’d said it aloud, at the very least, and she didn’t wither away after she had, she grabs the food bags and her purse and walks up the steps to the precinct.

Her dad is working tonight but since she’ll see him tomorrow at dinner, she doesn’t drop by his office. Instead, she heads downstairs to where CSI is located, following the stairs to where they’ve apparently put them in the basement. The hallway is well lit, and there are several windows covered in closed blinds that lead to the lab door. She balances the bags in one hand and opens the door with the other. And she’s stopped short at what she sees.

The room looks like how she’s always imagined a crime lab to look like: lots of white, microscopes, and computers, shelves full of test tubes and petri dishes. Barry is there and so is the Cisco guy she remembers from Fall Fest. There’s a woman there too, in the utilitarian black pants and matching blazer that Iris knows is the norm for detectives. And it’s not that she’s there, because that’s not weird. But she’s there, next to Barry, close to Barry, leaning on his counter with her hand on his arm as she talks. She’s as tall as Iris is in the four inch booties Iris is wearing, with shoulder length dirty blonde hair and the sort of white girl next door look that men fall all over themselves for.

Cisco notices her first, as the door closes softly behind her, and Iris feels a bit mollified at the way his grin rises up when he sees her.

“Iris,” he calls, eyes twinkling. “Nice to see your beautiful face.”

Iris winks at him, pulling out a flirtatious grin so that she doesn’t scowl at the sight of the woman touching Barry.

(She’s not jealous. She’s not, but Iris can’t stand the thought of Barry looking at someone else the way that he does her, can’t stand the thought of him touching someone else the way he does her, can’t stand the thought of him whispering, yeah, baby, fuck, ride me just like that, to someone else the way he does her.)

Cisco, though, is loud enough that Barry hears him, and she watches as he straightens at the sight of her, eyes wide. “Iris!”

He gives her his look, the one where he rakes his eyes over the length of her and then lingers on her face, always trying to read her. She’s still a little frustrated at how she’s always such an open book for him, apparent after he’s finished his perusal and he smiles, slow and with more smirk than anything else. The woman next to him only moves her hand from Barry hesitantly, turning to see what all of this commotion is about. She gives Iris the same once over that Barry did, though decidedly colder, and Iris tilts her head at her before settling her gaze on Barry.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” Iris says. “I know that you’re busy, but I thought I’d drop off dinner for you.”

She steps further into the room, and her heels clack loudly in the too quiet space. She pauses in front of where Cisco is sitting. She turns to him.

“I’m sorry I didn’t bring you anything. I should’ve texted Barry to see who else was around, but I was picking up dinner and just decided to get him some too.”

“It’s fine,” he says. “You can get me next time.”

Iris passes him and lets her eyes wander back to Barry and the detective, who’s stepped back in a bit. As soon as Iris catches his eyes again, Barry steps away from her, moving around to meet Iris. She stops at a point along a wide expanse of empty space on one of the tables, and Iris feels it’s a safe enough spot to place the food without contaminating anything. As soon as she drops the food on the table, Barry cups the back of her head and stares down at her. His thumb traces the mark he’d left on her neck.

“Hi, beautiful,” he says, eyes wondering, smile tender.

She looks over his shoulder to where the woman still stands, looking at her too. She gives her a smile in greeting. Iris thinks it’s returned.

“I’m sorry. You look busy,” she responds. “Should I go?”

“Absolutely not. I’m just surprised to see you.” Without stepping away from her, he turns to address the detective. “Patty, I’ll come down as soon as I have the results for you.”

Her gaze trails over to Iris once more, observing where Barry holds onto Iris’s neck, onto her waist. “Of course,” she murmurs, finally.

She walks out of the room, her low-heeled boots nearly silent on the floors. Both Iris and Cisco watch her go, but Barry doesn’t pay much attention, his focus on Iris as he continues to rub along his mark.

Cisco stands, sort of abruptly, his chair skitting across the floor. “Barry, I’m gonna step out for a minute.” He shrugs out of his lab coat, tossing it on the back of his chair. His thick brown hair brushes against his shoulders with every shake of his head. “It’s good seeing you again, pretty lady.”

Iris offers him another smile. “You too, Cisco.”

She turns back to Barry who’s eyeing her, expression curious. “You’re here,” he says, voice low.

“Yeah,” she nods at the bags she’s placed on the table. “I don’t know, I went to get dinner and I was, well, I was thinking about you.” She shrugs with a nonchalance she doesn’t feel.

“Yeah?” Barry’s answering grin is wide, and a little bit boyish, cheeks reddening; it makes Iris smile back in turn.

“Come on,” Barry says, picking up the bags and walking over to a desk tucked into the corner. “I've got a few minutes.”

The desk is messy, stacks of folders and sticky notes all over the place, and he moves some papers around so that he can place their food down. He rolls his desk chair over for her to sit in and he grabs the bag, pulling out her salad container and his sandwich and fries and placing them in front of their spots.

She waits until he sits down in the hard back chair he’d gotten from under one of the computers and she snaps the top of her salad before she says, “so why wasn’t I introduced to the detective?”

Barry takes a bite of his sandwich and looks at her in question. “Who? Detective Spivot?”

“Don’t you mean, Patty?”

Barry pauses with a fry poised for his mouth. “Sure,” he says. “Patty is one of the detectives on the case we got called into.”

“Hmm.” Iris stabs at her salad. She takes a bite and chews, though she doesn’t really taste it.

Barry places his half eaten sandwich into the cardboard container and he turns to her, giving her his full attention. He inclines his head, watches for a second. She thinks that the corner of his mouth tilts up, that humor brims in his eyes.

“What do you want to say, Iris?”

She rolls her eyes, annoyed that she can’t focus on how cute he looks with his lab coat and glasses on, annoyed that that woman was touching him, annoyed that she’s annoyed.

“I didn’t know you were so close to the detective. Y’all were very...touchy.”

Shaking her head, she starts to go back to her salad, but then he drops his food and rubs his hands together. He leans towards her.

“Come here,” he says.

She ducks away, but he grabs her wrist gently and pulls at her. She goes, because her tripping heart and her heaving chest and her warming sex won’t allow her to not. Barry sits her in his lap, sideways so that her legs are half hanging over his. She’s a head taller than him in this position, and he presses a hand at the small of her back as he looks up at her.

“You’re jealous,” he announces, seemingly pleased with the fact.

Iris rolls her eyes. “Of course not.”

Barry laughs. “So you’re just really grumpy right now?”

“I’m just curious,” she says.

“Oh?”

“About the touching.”

“She’d literally just put her hand on me as you walked in the door. I was about to move it.”

Iris harrumphs. “Doesn’t Detective Spivot know that you’re…” Iris waves her hand as she trails off and it makes Barry’s slight grin widen.

“That I’m what?”

Even she knows that the huff she lets out would only be completed with a foot stop.

“That you’re taken,” she says, boldly. Because whatever she was feeling, whatever he was feeling, this morning, they are still them: two people who’ve crawled into open, waiting hearts and made space for one another; two people who are pages deep into a story that the stars must have already been writing; two people hours into a dream that is so vivid, it has to be real.

The statement seems to sober him, because his eyebrows furrow. “Am I?”

She wants to be bothered by the genuine question in his eyes. But they’ve never blatantly talked about them. There has been some conjecture, sex-fueled mutterings that hinted at the reality of them, of their feelings. There have been looks between the two of them that tell far more than Iris has ever even realized could be portrayed through eye contact. He’s told her that he loves her. But they’ve never defined or drawn out the lines or made it real.

But like she said, they are them. And he is. Taken. So she slowly licks her lips, and nods her head. “Yeah, you are.”

This time, Barry’s smile is a sexy, lilting thing. “I’m fully yours, Iris. You have to know that.” He turns her so that he can hold her gaze, and reaches up to curl his fingers around the back of her neck, his thumb hitting that mark again. Then he says,

“I love you. I will until you love me back and forever after that. And that means that I don’t see anyone but you. I haven’t seen anyone but you since the minute I laid eyes on you in that slinky dress you had on, dancing in the middle of the crowd by yourself.” He presses a soft kiss to her lips. “Even before, for months before, I couldn’t see anyone else. Because I was waiting for you, Iris.”

He gives her another kiss, this one longer, deeper, like the one he’d given her before he left her car. She finds herself humming into his mouth, her arms tightening around his shoulders. He rubs against her thigh, higher, then a little higher, until Iris is opening her legs to try to get some sort of friction.

Minutes or moments or eternity after, he pulls his mouth away, though he doesn’t move away from her fully. Instead, he looks at her, and she finds herself lost in him, in this dream of a story. She sees the words of it, my afternoon dream, when the world is speeding; i am still sleeping, in my blue dream and i know the meaning, for all the seasons; you are the reason, my love, and she wants to add to it, wants to let herself live in it, wants to finally fall into this love story without fear or reservation.

“Barry,” she says, whispers, and she notes how hooded his eyes look through the wire-framed glasses he’s wearing and how just the act of sitting here on his lap calms her at the same time that it inflames her. Then she thinks about his infinite levels of patience as he’s waited for her to be ready for him and how he’s always been interested in what she thinks or feels and how no one has even treated her body with the, the homage that he seems to. And she...and she loves him. “Barry, I…”

“Alright, Barry, we have…whoa.”

Iris blinks out of her haze, startles out of the confession she was about to make, at the sound of Cisco’s voice. Still, it takes a second before she’s able to pull herself from Barry, and from the expression he’s saddling her with, she thinks he might have an inkling of what she was about to say.

“None of this hanky panky,” Cisco continues, either oblivious or uncaring, Iris doesn’t know. “Spivot and Mitchell need to see us.”

“Alright,” Barry calls over her shoulder. “I’ll be down in five.”

When Cisco nods and leaves again, Iris is pulled back into Barry’s orbit. He palms the back of her neck, thumb brushing the mark on her throat. She assesses him.

“Did you do that on purpose?”

“I’m sorry.” He immediately goes red. He averts his eyes for a moment, before they drift back to her. “It’s tacky, I know, and I didn’t realize what I was doing until it was too late. This morning, I was, I don’t know, confused about us and I just…” He pressed his thumb into her skin. “I told you I’m not composed around you; I’m a mess.”

Iris covers his hand where it’s still on her throat. “You know that I’m yours too, right?” The earlier moment seems to have passed, but she can, needs to, give him this. His stare is hard and almost unreadable.

“Yeah,” he says after a while, sort of breathless. “Yeah, I guess you are.”

She wishes that she could stay in this moment with him, such a stark deviation from the way they’d left each other this morning. So she takes that feeling with her as she packs her salad up and helps him clean up the trash. Together, they venture into the hall and Barry leads her back out into the bullpen where Cisco is standing with Spivot and a tall, dark-skinned man with a baldhead and a beard. All three of them turn at the sound of Iris’s boots on the floors. Something about the look of them makes Iris grab Barry’s hand. Barry stops her a few feet away and leans down.

“I like how territorial you’re being,” Barry all but whispers in her ear. “I’ll come over after work and remind you why you don’t have to be.”

The thought of them this morning, the hard press of him, his breath rough in her ear, makes her look up at him, her eyes bright, bottom lip between the white of her teeth. It’s only Cisco’s pointed throat clearing that keeps her from falling mouth first into him.

Barry’s grin is knowing. “Bye, baby,” he says, a little louder this time, and Iris shakes her head, knowing he’s saying it in front of Patty for her benefit. He drops a kiss on her check and Iris nods at his coworkers.

“Detectives. Cisco.” She squeezes his hand once and drops it. “See you later, Bear.”

She steps away and walks out of the station, but not before she hears Mitchell say, “Damn, Allen, how did you bag that?”

She wishes she could explain that she’s the one that doesn’t know how she got him.

Barry does come over later, and as soon as he walks through the door, he pushes her up against the wall and fucks her, groaning “mine, mine, fuck, mine” into the bite on her throat, as Iris moans it back in kind, “yours, yes, Barry, I’m yours.”

My afternoon dream when

The world is sleepin'

I am still thinkin'

Of my blue dream

It's bliss

[quillandink333]

Scarlet Carnations ~ Part V

BotW Link X Zelda ~ Detective AU

Rating: T

Word Count: 1.9k

WARNINGS: death, murder, loss, trauma, blood and gore, terrorism, organized crime, self-harm

Summary: Inspector Zelda Hyrule, assisted by the faithful Constable Link Fyori, is infamous for cracking the most confounding of cases in a town dominated by crime. Her latest assignment is to solve the murder of her own godmother, Impa Sheikah, the late CEO of Sheikah Tech. Incorporated, while staying under the radar of the dreaded Yiga organization.

Part I • Part II • Part III • Part IV • Part V • Part VI • Part VII • Epilogue • Masterlist

“‘Justice is Dead’: Inspector Hyrule Loses her Badge for Lying in Sheikah Murder Trial”

This headline, alongside a photograph capturing the catastrophe that had been Link’s trial, was what had made the front page of the Times not long after it had all transpired. And it wasn’t the only one of its kind. Far from it. It seemed every publishing firm in town had released an article covering my epic blunder in court.

My name wasn’t unfamiliar to the masses either. As the daughter of the last pre-Yiga mayor to stand in office, anyone who read the paper regularly knew who I was. Until now, I’d been known all across town as the prodigy detective dedicated to keeping the streets free of crime, but now, all those people would look upon my face and see nothing but a filthy, lowlife perjurer.

I could live with my name being ground into the dirt by the media. What made me truly bitter beyond words was that the few individuals whom I’d once trusted and looked up to would now think the same of me.

I’d tried reaching out to Prosecutor Sigatur countless times in the hopes that she could in some way continue the investigation in my stead, but every time I called, she would never pick up. She probably saw this case as closed now anyway. I had managed to get a hold of Auntie Purah, but all she’d been willing to say to me was that she needed time to think before hanging up. As for Paya, I couldn’t even bring myself to try to contact her.

It wasn’t something I took pride in. Clearly the best thing for me to do would be to apologize to them all for my actions, most of all to Paya after all the needless grief I’d caused her. But I simply couldn’t do it. Just the idea of it felt wrong. No words that I could possibly say to them would be of any use in bettering the circumstances. I couldn’t bring Auntie Impa back. I couldn’t undo what I’d done. I couldn’t do anything. There wasn’t a single thing I was good for other than making a mockery of myself and disappointing those who’d once dared to put their faith in me. Nothing at all.

And now, to put a cherry atop the sundae of darkness and misery that my life had come to, the one person who mattered most to me, the one I’d dedicated myself to protecting, was gone, forever. Just when we’d finally found each other again. There was still so much I’d wanted to ask him, and even more that I’d wanted to say, but...

What I wouldn’t have given just to be by his side at that moment. What we did didn’t matter. Even if he and I were simply in the same room together, I’d feel more at ease. But who was I to wish for such things? I was the one who had failed him. I should’ve just testified that I’d been the one behind everything. I should’ve been the one on death row right then. Not him.

I thought recalling a happier time would perhaps help to restore me to my rational self, before it was too late, but in the end, it only proved to pour more salt in the wound.

“Alright, I’ll see you around.” Both Paya’s and my own ears perked up at the familiar, jovial voice down the hallway. “Great time catching up with you!” No sooner than we’d heard those words did Link come striding out of one of the classrooms on the left.

“Uhh...!” I turned toward Paya, who was suddenly as red as a raspberry. “I j-just remembered I had something to ask one of my teachers about!”

Just then, Link’s eyes landed on the two of us. Paya gave him a wave and a sheepish smile, both worth no more than half a second.

“You two have fun!”

Then she started to turn on her heel.

My outstretched arm just barely missed the strap of her school bag. “No, wait!”

“Bye!”

I gave a disgruntled snarl as she made her hasty retreat. She was far enough now that if I tried calling out to her, I’d only be drawing attention to myself.

“Everything alright, Zelda?”

“Link!” The boy in question was right there, just a foot’s distance or so behind me. “Oh, yes. Quite. Paya’s just...”

“She seemed busy.”

“Yes, yes,” I grumbled. Busy putting me on the spot, more like. As always. “Who was that you were talking to just now?”

“Oh, you must mean Sidon!” he exclaimed. “He and I knew each other in elementary school. He just transferred here last week, or so I’m told. What a small world we live in!”

He spoke animatedly, gesturing with his whole body as he told me tales of the mischief he and his childhood friends used to get up to. Though he himself had only been enrolled here since the start of that year, it seemed he already knew everyone on campus. Even the members of faculty were fond of him.

“So I heard you got in touch with my father again the other day,” he said as we rounded the corner of the building’s exterior on the way to our usual lunch spot.

“Oh, yes, I did!” He took a seat next to me on the concrete bench in front of the greenhouse.

“How’d that go?” he asked, then tore a massive bite out of his sandwich.

I winced in a mixture of worry and amazement. “Well, he didn’t really have much to contribute to my case, but I appreciate his hearing me out all the same.”

“Ah’m thure you ‘o.” He swallowed his mouthful of food before continuing, to my relief. “But he doesn’t take time out of his busy schedule to talk to just anyone, you know.”

“Oh, certainly. If it weren’t for Urbosa, I’m sure he wouldn’t even give me the time of day.”

Then a teasing grin lit up his face. “Aren’t you forgetting about someone?”

“Oh! Of course. My apologies,” I bowed, swivelling in his direction. “You’ve been a great help as well, Link. Thank you.”

A faint crease formed between his brows. “Come on now, I was only joking.” He gave my shoulder a light shove, nearly making me drop my lunch tray. “You should try being less prim and proper all the time. No one’s counting on you for anything, are they?”

“No, I suppose not.” No one amongst the living, anyway. Besides, he already had me eating lunch outside the cafeteria. How much more improper did he expect me to be? “I think it’s just the way I’ve been brought up.”

He gave a slow nod. “That’s understandable.” No doubt he could imagine how strict the CEO of Sheikah Tech. could be with her daughters sometimes. “Still, if you want my advice, try lightening up now and then. Trust me, you’ll be loads happier that way.”

My heart swelled at his kind words. If it were anyone else, I probably would have dismissed them as just another naïve optimist. “You think so?”

He shook his head, correcting me with, “I know so.”

I’d bumped his knee with my own when I’d turned to face him a short while earlier. It was then that I finally took notice of our sustained bodily contact, which in turn made me notice how little distance there really was between where he and I were now sitting.

He must’ve realized this as well. While I was still in a flustered rut about what to do, he caught me off guard and scooted even closer, until our thighs were just a hair’s breadth away from touching. I, of course, was a gawking, red-faced mess at this point, but he didn’t seem to mind. He simply kept looking at me with that disarmingly sweet smile of his.

Never in my life had I met someone more determined to keep smiling in spite of all the world’s cruelties than he was. It wasn’t ignorance; his father was none other than the district’s chief detective. He was simply, genuinely, fearless.

“Hey, so...” His mannerism had shifted out of nowhere from confident to slightly less confident. “Will you be coming back here for the horticulture club meet this afternoon? I just remembered you mentioning that the other day, and if you are going, it’d give me a reason to go.”

A rush of giddiness took hold of me, causing my heart to thrum wildly within my ribcage. “Really?”

“Oh, wait. Did I just—” He laughed into his palm, then groaned. “Did I say, ‘a reason,’ just now?” I nodded, perplexed. “I meant, ‘more reason.’ That’s what I meant to say, obviously, because I was already thinking about going before you mentioned it.”

He seemed to be telling that more to himself than to me. I did my best to reciprocate his forced chuckle. “Alright.”

“Yep...”

The bell rang in the distance, signalling five minutes until the start of class.

“Oh, dear. I’d better be off.” In a rush, I stood up and gathered my things. “My next class is on the other side of campus. Bye for now, Link!”

“Wait, Zelda!” I halted. “So...are you going?”

I couldn’t help the smile that spread across my lips. “That’s what I had planned for today, yes.”

“Oh, spiffing!” His crow’s feet appeared adorably at the corners of his eyes, making my own smile grow. “I’ll see you then!”

By the time the memory had reached the end of its reel, there was a knife situated in the trembling grasp of my hand. Though the cuts were already a great deal in number, I’d barely even felt them until now. Now they stung like venom. In truth, it was most likely a result of the tears that had begun to fall upon the marred surface of my inner forearm. With this realization, my silent tears were only magnified into sobs of insurmountable extremity. The blade in my grip clattered mercilessly onto the desk. I was never going to see him again, was I?

As the salt of my tears mixed together with the little puddles of red that had formed, I caught myself staring blankly at the ball key sitting on the far end of my desk: the one Link had found at the scene of my godmother’s killing and had kept secret until the day before his conviction, when he’d entrusted it to me. Its dim, tangerine glow was just another painful reminder of how hopeless this situation really was.

Of course, being the spectacular mess of a person that I had become, I’d made the oh-so-wise decision to cut myself at the place where I carried out my chemistry experiments. With grandiosity, I oafishly spilled an entire beaker’s worth of fluid just as I’d finished wiping away the blood.

But just as I was about to go and fetch the mop, something happened that I never could’ve expected.

In the darkness of my apartment, the area on my desk where there had once been blood was glowing a strikingly brilliant blue.

I picked up the beaker that I’d knocked over. It bore the handwritten label, “5-Amino-2,3-dihydrophthalazine-1,4-dione.” Scanning the desk’s surface, something else caught my eye—something that could potentially be the “key” that I’d been searching for since the moment I’d discovered my dear godmother’s dead body.

The orange glow of the ball key, which had just so happened to find itself square in the middle of the splash zone, was being obscured by spots of blue light.

[descendantofthesparrow]

Everytime I post fanfic for the Descendants fandom I lose subscribers. Whenever I post fanfic to my main fandom i get one or two back. The sheer difference between kudos and comments when I post for my main fandom vs when I post for Descendants speaks for itself. I got 200 kudos in a day for one vs. less than 1p in a week. I love the Descendants fandom but I can't keep taking time to write and receive nothing in return when it comes to readers.

that fucking sucks anon, i can empathize with you on that as it sometimes takes a month or two to break even 20 likes on certain fics sometimes. unfortunately this fandom seems to not encourage fan work unless you're in a corner of friends who uplift your stuff, its a thing in all fandoms and this fandom is getting smaller, I've noticed alot of my fellow hhxr writers not posting anymore, or sometimes posting very infrequently, sometimes months in-between fics.

ive actually been heavily discouraged form writing one of my hhxr because i was and am not getting anybody reading it, or at least even leave a comment/like/vote/kudos. on my wattpad, on which i post all my stores, this particular story that im referring to, on its latest part only has 27 people who clicked onto it

im not joking. I love this story and I want to finish it, and I started it back after d3 released, maybe late 2019, but it's been three years since i started it and it has a total of 3k readers, with only a handful of readers per recent parts. that is what discourages me, i even asked the fandom on Wattpad if they wanted me to continue it because it seemed no one even wanted it anymore and i got loads of support and requests to continue it, but low and behold, when i posted the next part soon after, no one commented, and it took a couple months for it to break 15 people seeing it. (its still only at 60 readers now) (and i have 1.08k followers on wattpad now, and my stories legit take forever to break 100 readers sometimes)

unfortunately, this problem, of readers or fans not showing love to fanwork and uplifting it, is a problem in all fandoms, they don't realize that even if they love it and want that fanwork to continue coming, that if they don't comment or even just leave a like, it heavily discourages the creators of the fan works and then one day they just leave because the fandom isn't supporting them or their work anymore.

and so many fandoms wonder where their favorite writers or artists went, when the problem is them. if you don't want to continue loosing followers on your main account, I suggest maybe making a side account for just descendants? it might take you a bit to gain following if that's what your after but it would possibly prevent you from losing anymore.

and I can also understand you losing steam for writing for this fandom, unless you're a heavily popular writing with a heavily active following, you're basically gonna get nada when it comes to likes or reblogs. i do my best to ignore the like count or anything like that because I don't write for my followers, I write for me, I write because I want to and while it does discourage me no one reads it, it's still for me, I'm just sharing my works with them and I'm lucky enough to have a couple mutals who like my work and share it around.

but to any fans who see this and like reading stories or seeing art, reblog, comment, hit the kudos button ANYTHING that shows your support to the creator, it may be the thing that saves their interest in the fandom.

also anon i would love to read what you've written if you don't mind? you can either just link em to me on another ask or dm me with them :3

[dibs4ever]

DickBabs

Barbara walked up behind her husband linking arms with him . Her evening gown swaying, tickling her freshly shaven legs

“Babe did you seriously have to wear that” she whispered

Dick grinned looking down at what was strapped to his chest. His and Barbara’s 11 month old son was comfortably strapped to Dick’s chest in the baby carrier “Hey I love this thing”

Barbara couldn’t help but smile as she playfully rolled her eyes “I know you do handsome. But we are at a Wayne Gala and you are wearing a suit...there are thousands of people here because it’s our engagement party and our sons first official public appearance”

Dick nodded “Exactly the reason I have him strapped to me with his head snuggled into my chest. To hide him from all the cameras and the strange people coming up ogling ‘I want to hold him!’ “ Dick mocked

She smiled, loving how protective he was of their son “I know, but Dick we agreed the public was getting too curious about him. If we don’t let them get a few good shots and let some sweet stories spread then bad gossip would come and the press would potentially put Nate in danger in order to get a good glimps of him”

Dick sighed “You’re right” he unclamped the clips allowing the carrier to fall. He turned his son, who was dressed in a tiny tux that matched Dick’s so he was positioned on his hip.

Barbara grinned, she had taken her fair share of photos of her two guys while they had their privacy upstairs earlier. But They just looked so identical and cute dressed alike. Nate reached for Barbara letting out a small whine

“Such a Mommy’s boy” Dick joked as he passed his son to her

She kissed her sons chubby cheek before turning back to her fiancé “Oh gee I wonder who he gets it from”

Dick smirked scooting closer, kissing her cheek “I don’t know Mama, why don’t you show me?” He whispered in her ear

Barbara bite her lip as Dick pulled back

“Awe Young Grayson!” An elderly man with a cane approached them. Dick and Barbara both recognized him as the owner of a hotel chain . Which one? They don’t remember. All they know is he’s been coming to these things since they were kids, he’s extremely wealthy and has had many different wives. The latest of which was at his side now. She couldn’t have been much older than them

Dick puts on a smile. “Ah yes sir, how are you? “ he extended his hand for a proper shake

“I should congratulate you on both the beautiful bride and the offspring “ the old man waved

Dick smiled proudly “Thank you”

The blonde tugs at the old man’s coat “Awe honey look at the baby he’s so cute! I want a baby. Can we buy a baby?” She pouts . Dick and Barbara take this as an opportunity to sneak away. Only to run into a lady by the name of Rita Washington

She was a kind woman, in her 60’s who was a widow. Inheriting her husbands entire fortune

“Well would you look at you two cuties “ she smiled

The couple flashed her a grin back

“And this little ray of sunshine” Rita stepped forward touching Nathan’s arm “Wanna come to Auntie Rita?” She held her arms out. Knowing it would be good publicity Barbara passed her son to the woman. Luckily Nate didn’t cry.

“Awe hunny” the woman sighed as she lightly bounced the baby “I know what you’re feeling, you grow this human inside you for 9 months, go through hours of labor only for it to come out looking just like it’s daddy and nothing like you” she looked toward Dick

“Both my sons were the same way, luckily my daughter looks like me.”

Both Dick and Barbara laughed lightly,

Rita passed the baby back to Barbara. Nate laid his head on Barbara’s shoulder

“Awe he loves his mother doesn’t he?” The woman cooed

Barbara smiled “It’s partially my fault, I probably baby him too much” she ran her fingers over her sons hair

Rita shook her head “Oh sweetie don’t believe everything people tell you. Don’t think you need to rush and make him grow up cause it goes by too fast. The boy won’t be 20 and wanting to hang on your hip.”

Dick nodded “Even if he, is there isn’t nothing wrong with a man being attached to his mother”

Rita smiled “I like your way of thinking, you two take care.” She dismissed before turning

They didn’t make it 3 steps before they ran into Bruce, Jason, Tim and Stephanie

“There you three are, Ive been searching for you all night” Bruce spoke

Dick shrugged “Who knew when you shock a crowd with finally seeing your baby and an engagement it would keep you busy”

Tim rolled his eyes

“He looks so cute in his little suit!” Stephanie gushed

Barbara smiled “Yeah who knew Armani made baby sized suits.”

“Who knew people would pay $3,000.00 for a suit that will only fit for a few weeks” Dick chuckled

“Enough with the ’Who knews’ obviously we all knew’ Let me see my grandson” Bruce taking Nathan from Barbara’s arms without hesitation

Nathan batted his grandfathers cheeks causing Bruce to fight a smile

“Is it time for the circle of life ritual? Should I go get Alfred so he can hold the little Rugrat over the staircase while everyone cheers in admiration?” Jason thumbed

Stephanie stiffened a laugh “Whats with the backwards Superman backpack?” She asked instead

Dick looked down, quickly undoing the carrier he had forgotten about “Its not a backpack it’s a Tula Baby carrier with a Superman print.” He defended

“Plus Dick loves wearing the baby and making it well known that he ‘made it with his fiancé’ cause ’Who knew Dick and Babara were having sex....spoiler alert--everyone. Even Batcow knew“ Jason added

“Jason” Barbara grunted.

He smiled “Oh come on Barbie, let me take pride in the fact I’m the first in the whole family who knew you two were a thing. Our bedrooms we're next door to each other. You thought you were sneaking in and out of his bedroom window unheard? “

She smiled, he wasn’t wrong

Dick and Barbara were able to sneak away, entrusting the care of their son in the family.

Meanwhile, they wanted some privite time, after all this was a celebration of their engagement

Dick slammed Barbara up against the wall of the storage closet causing the Metal chairs of the nearby shelf to rattle.

“How-how many times do you think we’ve hid in this storage closet?” She stuttered

Dick shrugged as he began kissing down her neck “I dunno” he mumbled “10?”

She raked her fingers through his hair “Are you sure? We’ve snuck off a lot during gala’s growing up”

Dick looked up “Oh you mean just innocently sneaking off too? Like counting when we were kids.”

Barbara rolled her eyes “Of course you big lug!” She unhooked her legs and slid back to the ground.

Dick smiled “In that case countless times. Remember how Alfred used to purposely leave extra cookies in the kitchen for us to eat. “

She nodded as her eyes scanned the floor

Dick watched her curiously

“There it is.” She squatted down, the tight red dress making it difficult, she pushed a stack of chairs slightly aside, revealing two sets of initials carved into the wood shelving ’BG+DG=BFF’

Dick smiled ”I forgot we did that! We were what? 11?”

Barbara noddd ”Something like that” she watched as he bent down, pulling a pocket knife out of his sock, one thing Bats never did was walk around unarmed

”Watcha doing lover?” she asked

He smiled as he carved the shelving ”Updating it” he pulled the knife back, next to the old carving read a new one ”BG + DG Forever” with a heart around it

”You like it?” he asked

She pecked his lips ”I love it” she whispered before pushing him so he was lying down on the closet floor ”I love you” she whispered kissing his lips

”And I love you” he grinned back kissing her again.

[pynches]

the five stages of grief

a/n this is a very personal story to me. ive dealt with a lot of grief, way more than i should have, in a short period of time so i figured it would help to write about it. this is a friendship-centric fic so no relationships happening. i hope you still like it.

tw: mention of child abuse but it’s only a sentence mention, loss of a parent

word count: 1927

ao3 link

The biggest misconception about grief is that you feel it right away. That the moment you hear someone  you once loved died, you break down, sobbing on the floor from the pain you cannot hold in. We’ve seen the movies, read the books, watched the tv shows and how grief was portrayed in them.

It’s a lie.

This is how it goes.

The police calls Adam at 5:37 pm, something about an accident his mom got into and his father who cannot be reached. Adam stopped listening after the first words, “I’m sorry to tell you but”. The resignation in the police officer’s voice  was enough.

Dead on impact.

No revival possible.

And that was it.

There were no tears when he told the police that he would be there soon. No tears when he had to identify his mother’s body not even an hour later so he could sign the papers.

“It’s hers,” he told them.

And that was it.

Adam still went to school despite the school counsellor telling him that it wasn’t required. He lost a parent after all. He was tired of the concern thrown around though. The pity in the counsellors eyes, the pity in Gansey’s. Ronan was the only one who treated him semi-normally and even he was more careful with Adam than usual. Adam couldn’t blame him, though, he lost a parent too after all. But Adam did blame him, for not treating him like nothing happened even though something did, for making him feel like there was something different even though there was.

Truth was, Adam didn’t feel like something happened, didn’t feel like his mother was well and truly gone. He pictured himself opening the door of the trailer and seeing her bent  over the stove like she often was, or cleaning up after his father which happened even more often. He felt like he could pick up the phone to call her and hear her familiar voice on the other end.

There is bliss in denial, it makes everything hurt less.

The funeral was his job to organise. His friends had tried to help with sad half-smiles and pats on his arm. Adam didn’t feel anything. No sadness, no anger, but no happiness either. The emptiness inside him was all-consuming and nothing was left behind.

He picked the music and used his mom’s hidden savings to pay for the costs so that his father couldn’t drink it away. His throat tightened when they lowered her casket into the ground and filled the hole with dirt, his eyes full of unshed tears.

Adam swallowed.

And that was it.

Denial was out of the question now. Every time he closed his eyes he saw his mother’s body, one that held so much life before, too much for the small trailer in which it had been contained.

Now it was anger’s turn to rear its ugly head.

This particular emotion was one Adam had tried to avoid his entire life. It just reminded him of bruises and wounds that never truly healed. His father instilled fear upon him when he got lost in his own anger and Adam tried to ensure he would not do the same to anyone else.

Until he did.

Until he saw a woman cross the road from his booth inside Nino’s, her hair the same dirty blonde his mother had passed down to him.

Until he rushed outside because it was his mom and she was there and despite every phone call she didn’t make to the police and despite every time she turned her head when he was lying in a pool of his own blood. Adam wanted to rush into her arms and feel them wrap around him like she had done when he was younger and the world was less cruel.

Until the woman picked up her phone, her voice high and sweet unlike his mom’s, rough from years of chain smoking and yelling at him.

Until Adam stopped in his tracks, watching as the woman walked away, unknowing that she snapped something inside him that had been coiled up since the first ring of his phone.

Until he punched a wall.

Until Blue came rushing out of Nino’s. She kept a safe distance from Adam’s balled fists, probably on Gansey’s orders.

Adam walked away with his knuckles scratched and bruised, disappearing into the evening.

The only thing he left behind was his blood smearing the now stained wall, an almost literal red flag that warned people to stay away from him.

He didn’t stay to wipe the hopelessness from his friends’ faces. He walked away before he did worse.

And that was it.

Adam never visited the church he lived above. He wasn’t religious but sometimes, when people feel the defeat clawing at their throats, they search for miracles everywhere. They look for signs that would indicate their loved ones were still alive, even if it was just the wind that had slammed the door closed. They search for meaning in death, finding solace in the thought that it wasn’t for nothing, even though it was and always will be. They pray to gods they didn’t believe in so that they could fool themselves into thinking someone was listening.

Adam had his hands clasped in front of him awkwardly, not used to the position. He wasn’t sure how to begin a prayer and he wished he had googled it but that somehow seemed insincere. So, he closed his eyes, clenched his hands tighter, and begged.

“I will live at home again if it means you will bring her back.”

He sat on the same pew, every night before he went to bed, when the church was dark and empty, praying to God, to someone that her death could be reversed.

It never happened.

And that was it.

We’ve seen the movies, read the books, watched the tv shows and the way guilt was portrayed in them. Guilt as an instant reaction, guilt as a way of making up for years of neglect, guilt as an excuse for the police. Guilt as something you can live with.

It’s not true.

This is how it feels.

It sneaks up on you quietly. One minute you’re making canned soup on your shitty stove and the next you’re on the floor. Not quite crying. You can’t yet. But you feel the burn in your throat that has now become a constant, the shaking of your hands, the rapid pounding of your heart.

“If you had still lived in that trailer,” the voice in your head tells you. “You could have prevented this.”

That’s how it starts and it never really ends.

Adam puts his books in his locker and exchanges them for the ones he needs for the next two periods.

“It’s your fault she’s dead.”

He drops the book on the floor, not looking at Ronan when he hands them back without a word.

He fist-bumps Gansey when he takes his usual seat next to him but he can’t focus on Gansey’s nervous rambling. It feels like the entire classroom is staring at him, mumbling the thing he had told himself over and over last night before sleep took him.

“It should have been you.”

And that was it.

The emptiness feels deeper this time.

There was no way of explaining this feeling, the world didn’t have the words to describe it and they really shouldn’t.

The days feel longer, seemingly going on forever. Adam feels like he is in a haze, sadness clouding his rational mind.

Adam is independent. Always has been. He learned not to seek comfort from other people because it would just result in disappointment. Instead, he taught himself to hold it in, every emotion that he didn’t want, he would just let go.

It doesn’t work like that.

When he was a kid and his father started to drink more, he would seek the comfort of his mom and she would give it to him. She would hold him close and brush through his hair with her hand. Back then, she always faintly smelled of fresh grass. He cannot even remember what she smells like now and he hates himself for it. But he does remember her gentle touch, her lightly freckled arms closing around him, his face in her neck.

Adam is independent. Learned to be that way. But right now, he needed his mom.

One person cannot bear the constant weight of grief on their shoulders. One day they will succumb under the weight and it will either crush them or they will have people who stop it from happening.

Once the intense sadness hits, people don’t go to a bar and drink until they forget their own name. It’s not like the movies, books, or tv shows.

It’s wrong.

It happens like this.

Gansey persuaded him into coming to Monmouth and help the group with their research. And it’s fine, it’s good. Until it’s not.

Because the word “dead” seems highlighted on every page even though Adam knows it’s not. Because death is his only focus, not Gansey’s voice or Ronan’s grumbles or Noah’s quiet snickers or Blue sighing. Because suddenly his knees buckle and he’s dry heaving on the floor, the pressure in his chest growing, his heart pounding in his ears. He can’t hear Ronan calling his name, he can’t feel Gansey holding him up. The tears are flowing down his cheeks and it will not stop no matter how hard Adam is pressing on his eyes. He can’t breathe and everything feels off and he wants to claw his skin of just so it doesn’t fucking hurt anymore. He can feel himself hiccup, can hear himself gasp but he cannot do anything but curl in on himself and try to stop the sobs from overtaking his body.

And then Ronan cradles his head against his neck like his mom used to.

And Gansey slings an arm over his shoulders, holding him tightly.

And Blue rakes her fingers through his hair in soft motions.

And Noah wipes his tears away.

And he cries.

He lets himself fall apart in the arms of his friends. For the first time since it happened, he feels like it’s okay that he’s not okay. That he can let himself go and feel this in the safety of his friends’ embrace. They take in his heaving sobs and return whispers of encouragement. They make him eat something because he had forgotten and make him drink water when his head is pounding. They stay with him when he eventually falls asleep, in the middle of a pile of his friends, not knowing where his body began and theirs ended.

And that was not it.

Because grief doesn’t go away, ever. Not even with the help of kind friends. There will always be a hole inside of you that the person left behind. Sometimes the anger will return, at them for leaving you, at yourself for letting them go, at the world for being so unfair. And sometimes the guilt will return because there will be moments when you won’t be thinking about them and smiling and laughing instead only to come home and fall apart because you feel guilty for feeling good. And sometimes, during the rare moments that become less rare over time, you will just smile at the memories and accept that even though you will never get over the fact that they are truly gone, this is your life now, and you shouldn’t stop living it.

[megashadowdragon]

on lukes moment of weakness and how it is fitting for luke  among other comments

Personally I TOTALLY believe that George's Luke would have been VERY similarly to Rian's Luke.

And here is the reason why.... Luke has almost always been George's insert (lucas pronunced luke S )  and it makes total sense for Luke to be "exiled" and secluded away just as George became with Star Wars after the backlash of the prequels. But at the end of it, he comes back and stands up for what makes Star Wars what it is. Which is what Luke does for the Jedi and themes of Star Wars by the end of TLJ. He has learned from his mistakes, atoned for them, found redemption, confronted those he has failed, inspired hope, and learned to show compassion once again.

Now while George may have done it differently, I do believe that Luke being in exile was a metaphor for George's own relationship with Star Wars and its fandom.

www . reddit . com/r/StarWars/comments/ebb4f3/lukes_momentaneous_thought_of_killing_ben_solo/

I know I'm stepping on dangerous territory here by talking about The Last Jedi, and I only do this because I think this is an interesting take on a key moment of the movie. Just bear in mind that I do not intend to make my point-of-view the absolute truth of it. After all, this is just my opinion.

We all know very well how divisive Episode VIII was, with many people pationately hating that movie. One of the main reasons of complaint is the fact Luke Skywalker had attempted to kill his apprentice and nephew, Ben Solo, because he sensed the Dark Side to be too strong in the latter. Luke Skywalker, the only person in the entire galaxy that saw there was still light in Darth Vader, tried to kill his relative. When even Obi-Wan Kenobi and Yoda had lost all hope Anakin could be saved, Luke helped putting him on the path of redemption, helping Vader turn back to the Light and fulfill the prophecy of the Chosen One. It seems to be an insult that this same character gave up on his nephew so easily and tried to kill him.

I believe things must be analyzed more carefully.

I've just finished marathoning the Skywalker Saga (by the way, I STRONGLY recommend the Ersnt Rister order: IV-V-I-II-III-VI) and noticed something very interesting while watching Return Of The Jedi.

During the final moments of Luke and Vader's duel aboard the Death Star II, we see the young Jedi Knight wants to avoid fighting his father so as not to fall in the trecharous web of Palpatine, who wants to turn the young Skywalker to the Dark Side. Luke is hiding beneath the Emperor's throne. Vader chases him and, through the Force, reads Luke's thoughts to lure him into confrontation:

You cannot hide forever, Luke. Give yourself to the Dark Side. It is the only way you can save your friends. Yes, your thoughts betray you. Your feelings for them are strong. Especially for... sister! So, you have a twin sister!

In this moment, we see Luke's face and he's completely terrified by the idea Darth Vader found out about his sister. It is something new and Luke fears for Leia's well-being. Also, we hear from Vader's words that he cares a lot about his friends, the people he loves. Vader continues:

Your feelings have now betrayed her too. Obi-Wan was wise to hide her from me. Now his failure is complete. If you will not turn to the Dark Side, THEN PERHAPS SHE WILL!

Now we have something different. Since he was brought before the Emperor, Luke had been constatly confronted by Palpatine and Vader with the idea of him turning to the Dark Side. When Vader talks about the possibility of that happening to Leia, it's not a threat directed to him, but to someone he loves. In this moment, Luke loses it completly and attacks Vader viciously, totally enraged. The Sith Lord can't stand the power of his son, fuelled by hate and falls to the ground, defeated. In this moment Luke is prepared to make the final blow, but then he hears Palpatine laughing and clapping. This makes him go back to his senses and realize what he's been doing. He then turns off his lightsaber and refuses to kill his father.

"I'm a Jedi, like my father before me" and so on... we know what happens, so let's fast-forward to The Last Jedi.

When Luke is confronted by Rey, who demands him to tell what had happened between him and Kylo Ren, we learn how things unfolded through Luke's perspective:

I saw darkness. I sensed it building in him. I'd seen it in moments during his training. But then I looked inside, and it was beyond what I ever imagined.

In this moment of the flashback we see Luke's hand reaching out to his lightsaber, almost unconsciously. He then proceeds:

. He would bring destruction and pain and death, AND THE END OF EVERYTHING I LOVE BECAUSE OF WHAT HE WILL BECOME, AND FOR THE BRIEFEST MOMENT OF PURE INSTINCT, I THOUGHT I COULD STOP IT.

Here it is again. Like in Episode VI, we see Luke reacting in a similar way by the notion of something posing a threat not to him, but to the people he loves and cares about. Luke feared Ben would destroy everything he cherished, just like Vader had threatened by turning Leia to the dark. And, just like in the OT, it was a passing shadow:

It passed like a fleeting shadow, and I was left with shame and with consequence. And the last thing I saw were the eyes of a frightened boy whose Master had failed him.

I've already written way more than I expected, so I'll just conclude here. I've realized the act Luke commits in the Sequels is the same (or at least VERY similar) as from the OT: he attempted to kill Vader then his nephew, out of fear of seeing what/who he loved destroyed. He repented and managed to stop himself in the act in both situations. And he was ashamed. So, at least regarding this point of the movie, I see the same Luke Skywalker.

(luke had more to lose now then he did before 

another example which I saw dont remember where I saw it  but I saved the comments unfortunately I didnt put in the links:

edit: (now I remember www . reddit . com/r/StarWars/comments/9a3hdl/)

Luke considered killing Ben for about two seconds in a vulnerable moment

Sort of like he almost got baited into killing Vader by a few mocking words, and cut the hand off his own father in blind rage.

Luke is still just a person. If we've learned anything in Star Wars it's that the Jedi are not superhuman paragons of virtue and perfection, no matter how they might appear to the unwashed masses in the SW universe. They have the same flaws, temptations, failures, etc as anyone else. Yes the Force can help them overcome some of this, but they're far from perfect. Luke could have, and I agree should have grown in a positive way, but it's not impossible or even unbelievable that he didn't. He just had his life's labor wiped out in front of him and blamed himself for it. All those years of finding lost Jedi knowledge and artifacts, being what he believed to be the last Jedi in the universe with the responsibility to restart the order on his shoulders alone. All those lives that he took under his protection and guidance as the Master of the new order, wiped out in one night. Because of him (at least in his mind). Everything he was working towards for years just totally undone in a few hours and it was all his fault.

So he leaves and says fuck the whole lot of it. He lives by himself, stews in his misery and regret, retreats into himself and rejects the most foundational principle of the whole concept of being a Jedi: to help people. He's the most powerful Force user alive and he's wasting away by himself on some desolate rock, swearing off the rest of the galaxy because he thinks that he's a failure, that he wasn't strong or good enough, that he can't win, that it's not even worth it to try anymore, and that even at the height of his wisdom and power, it was all undone, and by himself no less.

another comment

Stuff has changed, I mean he’s quicker to come to his senses. I wouldn’t call that his flaw though. His flaw is one of his greatest traits, his care for his friends and family. It’s a flaw cause it causes implusive actions, lashing out on Vader, leaving Yoda, a single thought that he could stop a horrible fate in Ben.

I personal struggle with a temptation in my life, a temptation to do something my faith says is wrong to do. I may have overcome it some days, but other days, whether the same circumstances or not, I might fall into it. Temptations are a constant battle, not a one and done thing. Flaws are similar, you don’t just grow past a flaw after one instance.

Because a day may come when you will brought face-to-face with that temptation or flaw again, but the circumstances will be different, and it won’t be so easy to overcome.

You mentioned Toy Story in a post, and that’s a decent example when it comes to one facet. Woody might not get jealous when another flashy toy comes along that gets more attention like Buzz did.

A better example of the nagging of a temptation, like Luke dealt with, is in Lord of the Rings. The Ring is a constant temptation to the bearer and those around them. At least by the film, Frodo may have resisted the urge to use it under the tree, but he still was tempted to use it at other times, and it was a constant battle. Same with Bilbo. Bilbo held the ring for 60 years. And the temptation of it held him greatly. He drops the Ring in Bag End, letting it go. If he was viewed similarly to how people viewed Luke tossing the saber, that’d mean he freed himself from it’s grasp and from the temptation to take and use it. We see in Rivendell that isn’t the case for him. He has a moment of wanting to take it back, and even at the end of his time in Middle Earth, he inquires about it, although more innocently curious.

That would be more similar to Luke’s case. To fall to the dark is a constant temptation that Jedi should always be aware of, and if you get close at one point, there’s the possibility that it’ll happen again, and if you aren’t prepared or it comes in a different form, you’ll either fall or get really close.

That turned out longer than I meant it, but I see this idea and..it’s just not the case.

another comment 

Just because you get older doesn't mean you necessarily get wiser and better.

Jedi are still people (and some aliens, but you get the meaning), and the prequels (and even the OT) showed that even the oldest and wisest among the Jedi were capable of mistakes and misjudgments.

I think it's unreasonable to assume Luke should have become incapable of making, or even repeating mistakes and succumbing to emotion.

Right because people only get better as they get older and we grow past our flaws and doubts permanently right?

You guys are weird.

Luke overcame that moment of doubt before he almost struck Vader down and you think what ....... Luke got some kind of videogame like powerup where that character flaw would never come back again?

Some of you have a very black and white (boring) opinion on life and human growth.

Spoiler: People have flaws, we don't all overcome those flaws.Your boy Luke is no exception.

Consider what nearly proved to be his downfall in Return of the Jedi: for all the Emperor's taunting about the Rebel Alliance's imminent demise, it was Darth Vader who finally pushed his Berserk Button by discovering that Leia was his twin sister and suggesting that if Luke didn't change sides, he and his master might have better luck turning her. Then, when Luke went berserk, it totally worked: he curb-stomped Darth Vader and still didn't go evil in the end. His father's killing off the Emperor also put an end to a whole lot of the Empire's evil and birthed the New Republic.

Flash forward thirty years, and once again someone is threatening everyone and everything Luke loves, and killing the guy would surely preempt a whole lot of trouble. In his heart of hearts, he doubtless remembers what Yoda taught him about how easy and seductive the Dark Side is, but he also remembers how Yoda's mistake of hiding the truth about his lineage from him nearly brought his downfall. He also remembers how killing the Emperor solved so many problems the way he'd better not try to solve them this time... Well, what's so tempting about that?

Luke had more to lose at this time. He knew what a relatively free, peaceful Galaxy looked like, and had other students to care for besides Ben. Instinctively, he was acting out of concern for them. Luke makes an important point when he gives Rey the truth: it is a split second. Luke is a hero, but he's human. He was impulsive and acted on instinct in his youth, so the fear of Ben turning is enough to push him to the edge for a second.

hopeforben . tumblr . com/post/623000635980333056/theres-a-significant-portion-of-the-fandom-that/embed

@emeraldspiral​ 

@daughter-of-water​

@someoneintheshadow456​

[pinkykitten]

I was tagged by @writing-with-melon I hope my answers aren’t complete waste or if time and if so I’m sorry and I love you

Rules: Answer ten 10 questions, ask 10, and tag 10 people

1. What song automatically plays in your head when you look out the window on a long drive? 

i dont really have an answer for this. i think i just automatically think about any song ive been listening to recently or any song that has been stuck in my head. 

2.  Do you have some snacks nearby when you write?

well i live in a two story house so the kitchen is downstairs and im usually lazy busy so since i have a mini fridge upstairs i just usually get water to drink while im writing. its kinda hard to eat and write cuz i loose focus really easily so when i am writing i am writing! i am in the zone! but if i am a little hungry ill usually snack on candy like chocolate kinder joys i love them but they r so expensive or snack on chips but i get like salt on my fingers or i like cheetos so cheetos dust and that just gets everywhere and later my hands and keyboard kinda smell like fart. 3. What do you do to combat creative burnout?

so burnout happens to me a lot so to get inspiration i either read other stories or fanfics which gets my head gears turning or i admire a piece of art or photography or a song. whats so unique and satisfying with writing you can explore and go anywhere with it, hehehe erotic if you know what i mean lol jk there are no barriers with writing just your imagination. there is inspiration any where you go and id advise to never stop writing. even if its a few short sentences or paragraphs about anything even bird poop its still progression and your mind is working and your searching for words like its all good for you bby.  4. Do you use (or like to use) prompts? 

i do ill put the link here. im thinking of changing it though to do something different. 

5. What is your favorite place to write?

lol boring, i know but my room. my room is really bright in the mornings and comfortable and chill and i have a candle of the pandora ride in disney that smells like the ride so its all good and relaxing and super peaceful plus i have a picture of myself the age of like 9 on my desk idk why but it encourages me and makes me focus to make sure i never get that cringy again. 

6. What is a hobby or yous that you usually don’t talk about?

well i like working out HAHAHAHAHA jk that was a joke...get it...cuz i much rather be eatingokillstop. but i really like to draw which i have a art page you can see it if you click here pls look at my failed attempts to be hip and cool with the cool kids and being artsy fartsy. another hobby is i really like to do makeup and nail art, nail art is really tough guys no joke if you do it like you got wizard powers are something. maybe its bc my nails are shorter than pete davidson and ariana grande’s relationship, alright im trying to stop i swear!

7. Do you play an instrument? Which one?

no i wish though. i always wanted to learn to either play the piano or electric guitar cuz H.E.R looks so cool doing it. 

8. How do you feel about your handwriting?

it sucks dont even try me. my sister can barely read it like no wonder nobody wants to steal my signature heck they can’t even read it!

9. Can you tell us of a story that marked your development as a person? As a writer?

ok sit back guys, sniff a nice amount of crack and get ready for the most cringy moment of my life but also a time when i knew i was meant to be *inhale* a fanfic writer. 

so it was elementary school, i think 3rd grade and for my writing assignment we were given a prompt of idk what the heck tbh i think it was like be outside the box and im like ok imma nail this cuz im a weird child and yeah so i got my papers and pencil and i went TO TOWN on this paper. so i wrote two stories. one short story with a picture to go with it and one long story that yeah i buried years ago. so my first story was about a farmer was about that farming life. he had chickens and dairy. so i cant remember if the cheese was spoiled but doesnt matter. anywho these cheese and a chicken were alive like they could talk in the story and i gave them faces, yikes. but the whole story was the farmer was a b*tch and he was trying to eat the chicken and cheese so they hatched a plan to get away from the farmer. they did it successfully and they ran away. yay happy ending my teacher actually liked that one me too and my school mates were thinking what they heck is this girl on i made a story about how me and justin bieber made cookies for Christmas you know. so then my other story i was more proud of this one cuz it was a tone of paper, sorry trees, and this story was about how a female hippo (girl i was all about plus size and thicker girls and no body shaming) and an male ostrich were kidnapped from their own habitats and taken to become circus animals. failed version of Madagascar hey mine was before the circus movie OK THEY STOLE IT FROM MEEEEE. so they get taken and are treated to harsh punishment and the animals can talk and i think its in the point of view of the male ostrich guy thing. they are in the circus and they start to have this relationship happening. love starts blossoming its all good. im happy with this cuz i believed in love at age of 8. they find a way thru a kick butt scene of the animals escaping and the hippo and ostrich are so in love that they run away together and they have half hippo half ostrich babies and i think i named the species  hipstrich or like ostppo idk but i was so proud of this story and when my teacher read it she was worried about me lol i think she thought i might like mate these two animals like secretly idk but she was like it was ok and i was like what this is frickin William Shakespeare writing or like F. Scott Fitzgerald writing. nevertheless it taught me a lesson that nobody else needs to like what im writing the main point and only thing that matters is if your proud of it and you like it and i really did. i will remember that story forever and thats what made me want to be a writer. lol sorry that was a lot. 

10. @emdop I’m going to use this great question: Explain one of your WIPs in the most ridiculous way possible. 

wellllll im working on my peaky blinders oc story its a lot of drugs money killing weapons jewelry rich profanities like its the show but written from my stubby hands so my oc and whatever its great and so excited to show it to you guys. 

MY QUESTIONS:

1. WHAT MADE YOU WANT TO START TUMBLR?

2. IF YOU COULD CHANGE ANYTHING OF THIS WORLD, WHAT WOULD IT BE?

3. WHAT QUALITY IS IMPORTANT TO YOU?

4. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE OUTFIT?

5. WHAT MAKES YOU SMILE?

6. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE SONG IN THE WHOLE WORLD?

7. IF YOU COULD VISIT A PLACE, WHERE WOULD IT BE?

8. WHAT SHOW OR MOVIE UNIVERSE WOULD YOU WANT TO BE IN?

9. WHAT IS THE SCARIEST MOMENT OF YOUR LIFE?

10. WHAT DO YOU WANT MORE IN THIS WORLD THAN ANYTHING ELSE?

im tagging: @thatlittlered, @ardentmuse, @acciosnapes, @lotsoffandomimagines, @collecting-stories, @blog-of-a-multitude-of-fandoms, @naughtyneganjdm, @lenahellgizibe and two random followers @spiritsent, @sucker-for-my-fandoms

i was tagged by @writing-with-melon again ty btw, ps i felt so much pressure lol jk 😊

Rules: Answer 5 questions, Ask 5 questions, Tag 5 people.

1. What is your favorite book?

fifty shades of grey hahaha naw my favorite book is obv you all know this is series of unfortunate events but i never usually cry period and i never cry for books ever so when i read mrs. tom thumb by melanie benjamin, its the part when her sister minnie dies i cried so hard idk it was just emotional the wording the way she described her pain it was so beautiful written yet so sad and that was just amazing to me cuz im like this book made me feel things and im like wow i would love to write a book one day and make someone feel something whether it be sadness anger happiness annoyance anything they are having an emotion and that is super powerful to do that with just words. pls go check out that book its a good read. also im a fan of the greatest showman so i really enjoyed it. there are many other books tho that i thoroughly enjoy so much. 

2. What piece that you’ve written are you most proud of?

oh my god ive always wanted to be asked this question hands down i am always proud of my platonic gender neutral tony stark fic called in·con·sol·a·ble window to me i wrote it so sad and i was feeling like depressed lol when i saw peter die in infinity war like i didnt know what to do with my life tbh but im so glad that @impetrichorny requested it tysm i just like how its not based on romance or fluff or happiness it is based on when you lose someone the nightmares and sadness you go through and that there is nothing nobody can do about it except just be there for that person so i really like writing angst and something that was out of the box. ive been thinking tho of doing a part two since the fate of all the characters has changed after endgame. who knows tho. 

3. What is the last song that inspired you? 

well for art it would have to good news by mac miller when i did that kobe bryant memorial on my art page. i dont want to give it away though but ill just say some very powerful womens music inspired my oc writing and making. 

4. How do you feel about letting people read what you write?

at first i was scared cuz i thought i wrote like trash which that feeling kinda doesnt go away like some days i feel that way others i feel confident or it depends on the request it just depends but anyways i was always insecure about my writing so when i started writing it was more like lets see how this goes if not ill delete the whole page. im glad to say it went great but in the begging it was hard cuz i kept putting myself down but i learned to accept or just understand that you keep learning with writing you always learn knew things with writing how you can explain something better or you words get more intricate and people see the improvement and you do too thats why i applaud those who dont speak english that english isnt their first language. you are doing a tremendous job and keep practicing cuz you’re gonna make it to the top. ive also learned that some days are not my days and you can take time off when youre not feeling it when you have writers block. just recollect your juices sip some tea go to the beach relax your mind a little and take as long as you need to come back and give it your all. also comments and reblogs and likes a follows those meant so much to me and encouraged me. thats why i cant express it enough how much all those mean to writers, artist, photographers, anybody who is truly trying their hard in this area of social media. its makes a person happy smile and confident in their writing but first train your mind into loving what you make not what others thing. you have to be happy with the outcome that is what truly matters and what makes your writing the best. look at me getting philosophical. 

5. Do you get distracted easily? If yes with what?

yes and with porn haha i get distracted easily like very easily homeschooling was really tough for me. music distracts me, netflix, the urge to watch david dobrik or unus annus or buzzfeed unsolved on youtube, heck my farts distract me. i gotta be like troy bolton i gotta get my HEAD IN THE GAME!

MY QUESTIONS:

1. IF YOU COULD BE NAMED SOMETHING ELSE, WHAT WOULD YOU BE NAMED?

2. WHAT PERSON INSPIRES YOU THE MOST?

3. IF YOU KNEW THE WORLD WAS ENDING TOMORROW WHAT WOULD YOU DO TODAY?

4. WHAT DO YOU OFTEN THINK ABOUT IN THE SHOWER?

5. WHATS YOUR WEIRD COMBINATION FOOD?

im tagging: @thatlittlered​, @ardentmuse​, @acciosnapes​, @lotsoffandomimagines​, @collecting-stories​ AND WHOEVER WANTS TO DO THIS IF YOU FOLLOW ME OR LIKE MY STORIES TAG ME ILL READ YOUR ANSWERS. HOPE I DID THIS RIGHT SORRY FOR TAKING SO LONG YOU GUYS ARE AMAZING MWUAH 

[rueitae]

Once More, With Feeling

For @paliseizy‘s Coran Week! I had this idea lurking in my head for a while, but this event kicked me in gear to finish! Much thanks to @sp4c3-0ddity for her usual encouragement. For the prompts Ship (Coran and an OC, though its not the focus) and AU.

When given the option to try and change the past for Allura's sake, he takes it. It's just a bonus he gets to change Keith's life for the better.

Or, canon compliant Coran time travels and raises Keith in canon divergent AU.

Warning for Major Character Death (of old age, and at the beginning).

Read on Ao3. Roughly 10,600 words.

~~~~~

Coran pauses, arm outstretched to open the door before him.

It hasn’t gotten any easier, his greying hairs an outward expression of his aged body and mind. Although he’s spent the trip from Altea mentally preparing himself for this, it hasn’t helped. Even though everyone has greeted him kindly upon arrival he’s terrified to open the door, not because of who he’ll see - never who - but what.

The grip on the flowers tighten. He must. He’s paid the same to the others, his children by choice, and he’ll be quiznaked if doesn’t give Keith the same comfort.

Taking courage from their memory, he turns the knob, hands sweaty under his gloves.

The hospital room is more cheerful than he remembers them being, painted in a beautiful light orange. Vases full of floral arrangements both Earthly and alien crowd the tables and chairs. Coran’s heart twinges. There’s been no visitors lately, only mailed in well wishes.

A nurse with familiar auburn hair leans over the single bed, and upon his entry rises to greet him with a smile. “Good evening, Uncle Coran. Welcome back to the Garrison.”

Coran nods politely, a smile pushing up on his face. “A pleasure to see you again, Samantha. How are classes going?”

She beams at him. “Aced my last set of tests. I’ll be a doctor before you know it.”

Coran whistles. That soon? Just yesterday it seemed she’d graduated from secondary school. “She’d be proud of you, all of you kids,” he tells her.

Her face glows with the praise, a light flush around her cheeks. Quiznak, she’s the spitting image of her great-great-grandmother.

He misses Pidge so much. And Hunk and Shiro and Lance.

And Allura still.

Her gaze wanders briefly to the bed. “He’s just napping, but you can stay with him until he wakes. He’ll be delighted to see you.”

“Thank you, my dear,” he says, taking her hands in his and giving them a gentle pat. “Give your parents a fond hello for me.”

She gives him a kiss on the cheek and his mustache tingles with joy. He gives her familial hug before she leaves the room.

With great care he sets the flowers aside to sit on the chair at the bed.

Coran’s heart is at ease as he watches Keith sleep peacefully. The man has outlived his fellow Paladins thanks to his Galra heritage, but his white hair, thin arms, and wrinkles are all so human. Time has helped, but it’s still hard on his heart to see the young man he met and nurtured, so full of life, bound to bed at the end of it.

To be the last has been a burden on him, one that Coran must soon carry.

Keith’s eyes lift slowly, but smiles. “Hey Coran,” he says softly. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Coran pats his arm, careful of the IV keeping him hydrated. “I came as soon as I could, my boy. How are you feeling?”

Keith cracks a wry smile. “Been better,” he quips. “How’s Altea?”

“Getting along just fine without me,” Coran jokes back. He hasn’t done much governance lately, a task for the younger generation now.

Keith nods slowly, his eyes focusing on a point on the far wall. “I’m tired, Coran. I thought I’d go out fighting.” He chuckles, smile fond. “I still hear Shiro’s voice telling me to be patient.”

“I think of them too,” Coran tells him. He files them in the same category as Alfor and the original Paladins now, to be remembered for the vitality and joy brought to his life and the lives of all who knew them. “Allura could have used that advice back in the day, she was quite vivacious as a child. I can’t count the times I had to lure her to the duflax pond or juniberry fields while Alfor worked - she wanted so much to help him.”

Keith laughs, an easy one that was so hard to come by when they first met. “She did that and more,” he says sincerely.

Quiznak, he can’t cry yet. “She did,” he agrees as his eyes scrunch shut, holding back the tears.

A hand rests lightly on his. The simple action leaves Keith near breathless, his chest rising and falling heavily. “I want you to do it,” he rasps.

Coran can’t stop the light gasp that escapes his lips. He knows exactly what Keith speaks of, but, “It’s a fantastic dream, Keith. We barely had a chance with all of us, I can’t finish on my own.”

“Lance finished it,” Keith says quickly.

Coran’s eyes threaten to bulge out of their sockets. Lance had been no idiot, but to finish what they’d been working on…

“He learned a lot more from Hunk and Pidge than he let on,” Keith continues. “He applied some old movie logic and it worked, Coran. We used it on a toy. It was the last thing he did before he...”

Died.

Coran remembers the funeral well; family and friends around the open casket while the universe outside mourned. His gifted Altean markings glow too brightly for the naked eye and when they look back, his body is gone.

There’s no wondering where he’s gone. His name is carved at the base of the statue of Allura on Altea, underneath Pidge’s and Hunk’s and Shiro’s - where Keith’s will join them one day.

Coran’s heat thumps with hope. What was once throwaway gibberish from Slav turned into Pidge’s offhanded theorizing and Hunk’s idle tinkering. A chance grew - not just to correct mistakes but to give her a chance, a chance to enjoy the fruits of her labor.

“Time travel is a dangerous beast, Keith. Can is one thing… but should we do it?”

Keith exhales and relaxes into his pillow. He closes his eyes for a long moment. When they open, Coran can tell he’s decided.

“If there’s a chance, we should take it. Please, Coran. Do it for her. Let her live a full life with us. Make sure everyone gets a happy ending.”

Keith coughs, his body lurching forward, the machine monitoring his heart rate going wild at the sudden movement. Coran steadies him, holds him close until he’s finished.

“Do you have everything in order?” Coran asks as he helps Keith back to his resting position.

Keith catches his breath before responding. “Yorak has the blade, you have the key to the lab. I don’t have anything else to take care of.”

Coran nods and takes the man’s hand, squeezing it tight as the intervals between beeps on the monitor become longer.

Keith squeezes back, tears in his eyes. “Thank you for being here. I miss… I miss the team… I miss Mom… and I miss Dad…”

“You’ll be with them soon,” Coran chokes. His own tears filter his vision. Another dozen deca-feebs or so and Coran can start to contemplate when he’ll join them. “I know they’d be so pleased with everything you’ve done in their stead.”

Keith closes his eyes and smiles. “Dad…”

The monitor flatlines, a term Coran has come to despise. He cries, arms trembling as he holds Keith’s hand tight. “Rest easy, Keith.”

Samantha and others come in, but Coran does not move a muscle as they remove the equipment and pay their own respects.

It’s truly the end of an era

~~~~~~

Keith didn’t want pomp and circumstance. Surviving relatives of the Paladins visit while television stations run biopics on all the former Paladins day and night, back to back.

When they close the casket for the last time, Coran doesn’t miss a bright white glow from between the cracks. Coran relaxes. Keith is in good hands now.

After the funeral, Coran finds the strength to enter the lab. It’s mostly unused since Pidge passed on, but one corner clearly has seen more traffic than others.

Coran takes the cut of Balmeran crystal from his pocket, a gift from Shiro.

She’d want you to have it. Don’t mourn me forever, I’ve made the most of my borrowed time.

A platform unfurls, the design lovingly based off of the IGF-Atlas. He places the crystal on the place made specifically for it.

The machine hums to life and Coran takes a moment to glide his hand along the surface of the pod. It looks so much like Castle’s ships and it triggers his nostalgia for Pop-Pop and the days where he traveled with Alfor across the galaxy, and then the universe with Allura.

There’s only room for one, and the trip is one-way.

The young ones of the generation remember Voltron only in the stories of their grandparents, or parents for longer lived species. Alteans do not live as long as they used to.

The universe no longer has a place for him.

It’s time to do something good.

Coran enters the date they’d calculated so long ago, the point where he can enter their lives early without shorting out the machine. He settles himself into the chair and closes the chamber.

It will be too late for Altea and much of the universe.

But enough time to make things right for the Paladins - for Allura.

~~~~~~

The machine does as it’s supposed to. The lab fades away and leaves Coran with a view of the desert outside of Plaht City, the sun setting on what has been a very somber day.

Sparks fly within the machine and Coran jumps out moments before it explodes, engine fried from the trip - as theorized.

Coran gets up and dusts himself off. He can’t introduce himself without looking his very best after all!

Carefully he removes the now blackened Balmeran crystal from its place. It falls to dust in his hands.

Despite knowing this exact thing was going to happen, Coran falls to his knees on the desert sand and mourns. Its an object, he knows, even though it was a gift of the Balmera, but it's his last link to the past.

So eventually, when he’s given himself time, he takes a small vial from his coat pocket and reverently deposits the black dust into it. If Coran wishes to see it in its pristine form, he must see it on Allura’s circlet.

A timeline where she lives. He has his mission. For the universe, for the team, for Alfor.

Somewhere out there the Blue Lion waits patiently for Lance, a meeting that will not take place for another several years. Coran’s destination is the two story house that looms in the near distance.

A woman answers the door - and his breath is taken away. The long lonely week feels far away as he takes in the most beautiful curly red hair he’s ever seen - even his own! He gapes, barely taking in her frazzled and tired eyes. She looks at him as if he’s Voltron itself.

“Oh thank heavens you’re here,” she breathes. Her lips too are a pleasant shade of red akin to the second sunset of Altean equinox-- “Mr… ?”

“Smythe,” Coran says blankly before shaking his head, breaking himself out of a stupor to shake her hand. “Coran Hieronymus Wimbleton Smythe at your service.” He chuckles nervously, flicking his round ear. Humans were so strange. “What seems to be the hullabaloo?”

“The boy won’t talk. He keeps himself locked up in his room. He has a knife! Who gives a knife to an eight-year-old?” The woman breathes heavily, near panic. “I was just about to call the police.”

Coran takes her hand in his, gently as if they were delicate juniberry petals. “Fret no more, my lady. I’ll take care of everything,” he says with a wink.

And he means it. At the risk of changing too much of the future, Coran has decided on one variable.

The woman blushes and Coran’s pride swells. He’s still got it. And Lance called himself the smooth one.

(Number Three never did get to Coran’s level of ‘game’, though he tried his best to mentor the Paladin.)

She leaves in relief after making him sign some paperwork. He has half a mind to ask her to stay… but he has a job to do. Coran climbs the stairs and leans up against the only closed door. There’s sobbing on the other side.

“It’s a bit late for a growing boy to be up, hm?” He airs.

“Go away! Leave me alone!”

Coran smiles at hearing the young, but familiar voice again. Inside his heart breaks at how angry, upset, and alone he sounds.

“I don’t have the slipperies at the moment, so I’m afraid I’m staying put, my boy. Are you hungry?”

Tiny feet scamper further from the door. “No!” Keith says, inflection full of anger and tears.

It’s been a very long time since Coran has dealt with a stubborn Keith and even longer since he’s cared for children. Allura always reacted well to a distraction though, once Coran found a suitable topic for rambling. He’ll just have to do the same for Keith.

“I hear you have a very special knife,” he begins. “I’d very much like to see it if you’d let me.”

An almost feral growl permeates through the drywall. Humans wouldn’t recognize it as anything more than primal, but it is most definitely a Galra cry for assistance. He’s heard Zarkon’s more times than he can count - mostly due to Alfor’s reckless tendencies. Coran can barely make out the dialect, but it’s definitely the cry the Blade of Marmora has settled into over the years.

Though he doesn’t know it, Keith remembers Krolia’s voice.

“So you can try and take it away from me too?” Keith spits.

“Not at all,” Coran assures him. “I’m a bit of a connoisseur of weaponry, actually. I could show you a thing or two about your knife. Anyone so protective over their blade is deserving of some tricks of the trade, wouldn’t you say?”

Keith doesn’t speak right away - he doesn’t need to. He steps lightly to the door, and opens it ever so slightly. His violet-tinted eyes watch Coran with caution.

“Are you telling the truth?” the boy asks with, for the first time, hope.

Coran doesn’t plan to disappoint. He kneels and meets his gaze.

“I was knife-throwing champion of the Castle for twelve deca-feebs straight!” he declares proudly. “You’d be hard pressed to find anyone on this planet who knows more than I.

Keith’s brows furrow in confusion and Coran can practically see the wheels turning in his mind, none of them hostile. Perhaps he’s given the boy a little more to unpack than necessary.

“What’s a... deca-feeb?” Keith finally asks.

“A measurement of time for students of the Blade!” Coran winks, leaning in as if making a fine deal in the Unilu black market. “I’ll be able to teach you all that and more. Mind if I come in?”

Keith stares for a long moment before unhooking a chain and opening the door wide enough for Coran to enter. It’s his bedroom. Pictures of Earth-ships hang on the walls and toys lay scattered across the floor. Keith scrambles onto his bed, holding Krolia’s blade close - the business end blessedly wrapped up. A picture of him and his father lies on the disheveled sheets next to him.

Coran’s heart breaks, and is reminded of his mission.

“Thank you, my boy. Mind if I have a seat?”

Keith shakes his head, but doesn’t move.

Coran sits at the edge of the bed, a respectable distance away. “May I see it?”

Keith holds it out to show him, slowly, with an edge about him that still doesn’t quite trust. Coran makes no move to take the blade, and gives it a look over. It’s remarkably well preserved. Krolia must have given Keith’s father the correct care instructions for luxite.

He hums for a good while, though he already knows what to say. “It’s a fine piece of work, perhaps the best craftsmanship I’ve ever seen!” he declares. “It must have belonged to someone very special.”

Keith hardly seems to know what to do with the blade still in his hands. He examines it thoughtfully with the new information. “My Mom. Dad said that I have to take care of it until I can give it back to her.”

“Your mother was an excellent swordswoman then. It’s a rare gift, she must have loved you very much to entrust you with her prized blade.”

Keith holds it close to his chest and looks Coran in the eye. “Is she coming back? I want to go where she is.”

Coran dares to rest a comforting hand on Keith’s back. “Your mother is in a very dangerous place right now, Keith. She wants very much to see you, but you’d be in great danger if she did.”

His eyes widen, but to Coran’s relief he does not flinch away. He’s gaining trust.

“She’s in trouble?”

“Not right this tick, no,” Coran assures him. “But there are very bad people who would hurt her if they knew where you were.”

“Oh,” Keith says, lowering his head, crestfallen. He sniffs. “I want my dad…”

“I’m sorry about your father,” he begins somberly. “He was a good man. He’ll be remembered fondly.”

The boy’s body shakes, eyes clenched shut. “I don’t want to remember him, I want him here.”

Coran tries not to feel guilt. If only he’d had the power to add just one day to his trip Keith could have grown up with his father. Happy, healthy, and prepared.

Coran can prepare him, keep him healthy, and do his very best to make him happy. Most importantly, he can assure Keith that his mother is out there, and that she loves him.

“I know, Keith,” he says softly. “Everything is going to be fine. I promise.”

Maybe it’s because he says it with conviction, like Keith himself in his best of times leading Voltron or the Blade of Marmora, or just the blind trust of a child with whom he’s started a connection with - a re-connection, but the young boy beside him curls into his side and cries.

Coran wraps his arms around him protectively, stroking his back in comfort, and lets Keith mourn.

This time will be better. For Keith and for Allura.

~~~~~

“Who needs pee-butter and jeyl-lo when you can have…” Coran whisks out a napkin, tying it around Keith’s neck. “A classic Paladin lunch!”

Coran sets the loaded plate on the table with flourish, directly in front of a wary Keith. After finally admitting to being hungry, Keith allowed Coran to lead him to the kitchen and cook for him.

After decades of exposure to Hunk’s cooking, Coran is familiar enough with Earth cuisine - but none of it is as decadent as Altean. Keith’s cupboards turn out to be painfully bare of anything he’s used to, but after a taste test or five Coran is able to scrounge together most of the ingredients for the classic Paladin lunch.

Keith's nose scrunches in distaste. "Is it... safe?" he asks.

Coran huffs. It's a good thing he's introducing Keith to his cooking early. "Of course it's safe," he insists. He's using all human food, how could it not be safe? "If it was good enough for King Alfor, it's good enough for young Paladins."

The boy gives him a funny look, confusion etched into his features. He wants to ask who King Alfor is - wants to ask what a Paladin is - it's an expression Coran is all too used to seeing from older Keith during meetings and explanations of long extinct civilizations and their politics. But he doesn't, instead choosing to interest himself in the Paladin lunch.

His small stomach rumbles and Keith gulps in apprehension as he collects as spoonful and inserts it into his mouth.

Green Paladin Keith is not, and Coran is fairly certain humans can't turn green either - not like he can.

Keith swallows thickly, and with tears in his eyes practically inhales his glass of water.

Coran waits with bated breath. "Well, what do you think?"

"It tastes like dirty socks," Keith says, sticking out his tongue.

Relief fills him, and he sighs, resting a hand over his heart. "Good. That's an improvement over the sewage canals of Thravia-4." Or, that's how Lance had described it once. He gives Keith a reassuring smile and a pat on the back. "It gets a bit better once you get to the middle bits!"

"...I don't think I'm hungry anymore," Keith says simply, pushing the platter towards the middle of the table.

Coran sighs. He had years still to get Keith on his side. "It's been a long day, my boy. I think you could use a bath and a good sleep."

This lowers his spirits, eyes downcast. "...I miss Dad," Keith says suddenly, a hiccup in his voice. "He gave me a bath and I had sand in my hair and - and - "

Keith tries to hold back his tears. Coran swiftly drags a chair with one hand over and sits on it next to Keith. He gently places a hand on his back.

"Tears are nothing to be afraid of, Keith," he says. "It is how we show love and grief. You will never stop loving your father, missing him is nothing to be ashamed of."

His stomach takes the brunt of the hit from Keith's tiny head, the boy's arms just able to reach around his waist in a hug. Coran wraps his arms around him, anchoring the boy's trembling, sobbing figure.

"It will always hurt," Coran continues, "losing loved ones."

Melenor. Alfor. Gyrgan. Trigel. Blaytz.

"No matter how long or short your time is with them."

Allura.

"But we are the keepers of their memories, the lives we shared with them are stories we can pass on to others."

Hunk. Pidge. Shiro. Lance.

"So they will always be with us."

Keith.

"Miss him and mourn his loss. I'll be here as long as you need me."

"I don’t want to, I want him here," Keith chokes out.

Coran holds him closer. The Keith he knew never received this kind of attention. Coran is determined to make sure he does now.

“You can want all you’d like, Keith, but we still must live our lives. Stay here as long as you like," he reassures. "Then that bath and bed, hm? I think that’s what your father would want."

Keith sniffs, his voice muffled in Coran's shirt, but no less hopeful. "...Then t-tomorrow you'll teach me how to use my knife, right?"

Coran can do one better than that. He can give Keith a history lesson he normally wouldn't learn for another fifteen deca-feebs and he can do it tonight. A lesson about the Blades and of the Galra and of what to expect - things that his mother really should have taught him, but knowledge that will be crucial for his early years in space

"That and more, Keith." He hopes Krolia won't be too angry with him when they meet again.

~~~~~

"You're a brave, kind man Mr. Smythe," the judge says. "We're glad to have you at the agency."

Coran tips his new hat to her and pats Keith's mop of hair. The boy clings to his pants as if he expects to be separated at any tick. He is doubly thankful for the foresight to bring his papers back to the past; without the knowledge of other beings, humans will see exactly what they need to see on his files. In this case, the fact that he's already working with the foster care unit.

And that's enough now that he can adopt Keith. He'll be able to relax for the next ten Earth-years.

"I'm just doing what I can. Need to settle down after that last assignment, and Keith here seems in need of a helping hand."

She shakes his hand. "The paperwork should be nearly done..."

The courtroom doors burst open and - Coran’s jaw drops, his heart pounds in his ears. Gorgeous red hair, nearly orange in the halogen lights. Coran holds a hand over his chest as if it will slow his racing heart - he can’t believe she’s here again, the same woman he met at Keith's house the day he arrived in the past. She holds a bundle of papers in her hands. "Sorry I'm late - it took forever to find Keith's birth records. They were at the Galaxy Garrison hospital."

Keith clutches him tighter.

Coran laughs it off. Of course Krolia wouldn't have gone to the Plaht City hospital.

"I'm not terribly surprised, eh Keith," he nudges the boy. "After all the house is much closer by hover bike to the Garrison than the city. A stroke of genius of you to look there in the first place," he tells her with a wink.

Her cheeks flush at the praise and hands the papers over to the judge before tucking a curl of brilliant red hair behind her ear. "Of course, I'm glad to help Mr. Smythe. You've been a great help with Keith."

"Call me Coran," he winks. "We're hardly strangers."

"Synthia!" she proclaims as she shakes his hand. "A pleasure to actually meet you properly, Coran. If you need anything at work, here's my personal number." She smiles brightly at him, a love struck look in her eyes that pulls on his heartstrings.

He takes the card and twirls his mustache. "Perhaps I'll give you a ring and we can discuss work over a cup of tea? What do you think, Keith?"

Keith sticks his tongue out. "I don't like tea."

Coran pats him on the back. Keith never did acquire the taste. "That's quite all right, you won't have to join us if you don't want to." He turns back to Synthia. "Perhaps during the school day sometime?"

"I would be delighted," she beams.

A smug feeling wells up in his chest. He's absolutely still got it.

Perhaps he'll enjoy himself in the past more than he thought.

~~~~~

“Make sure you pack a jacket!” Synthia says as she shoves one into his chest. “The desert gets cold at night - surely you learned what while you were stationed in Australia?”

Coran sniffs the jacket with a raised eyebrow. A recent purchase from a local ‘thrifty shop’, it smells of smoke - and not that of a campfire. He attempts to hand it back, but her emerald eyes sparkle with concern.

With a heavy sigh he puts it on, if only to ease her fears. It takes only a tick to shift his internal organs into a Yorlanian - a people who adapted long ago to naturally deal with temperature gradients far more severe than that of Earth.

How is she to know that? He’s Coran the human here, and he won’t be Coran the Altean for another fifteen years.

A deep breath soothes the ache in his chest at that thought. Fifteen years is nothing compared to ten thousand asleep in a cryopod.

“As you wish, my lady,” he bows, earning a delighted blush from his target - enough to hopefully take her mind off his long pause. “Although, it could certainly use a wash…”

“There’s a washing basin at the park you can use.”

Coran whips around, and there’s Keith at the bottom of the stairs, having descended so silently he hadn’t even heard. He’s dressed for the trip, hiking boots and a red jacket over a worn t-shirt. A backpack sits firmly on his shoulders, his knuckles white as he holds the straps.

He's better; not that he ever will be completely fine, nor should he. Krolia often said she saw much of his father in Keith - brave, selfless, kind, helpful, so Coran knows he hurts.

Hopefully this trip will be healing for him.

"Ah, well fortune is with us then!" Coran says cheerfully. He turns to Synthia. "Perhaps you and I could take a trip into the wilderness sometime."

Synthia clasps her fingers over her mouth, a delighted giggle escapes her. "That would be wonderful. I haven't spent a night under the stars since I was a scout camping with my troop." She sighs longingly. "I miss the fresh air."

Keith raises an eyebrow. "You were in the scouts?"

She huffs, hands on her hips. "Of course I was! Granted it was when dinosaurs roamed the Earth," she says with a wink and a laugh.

This gets a crack of a smile from Keith. "You're not that old."

"Old enough to remember Plaht City before the Galaxy Garrison!" She pinches his cheek, and while Keith tries to pull away, he's grinning the whole time. "You boys have your bonding. Come back with some woodwork - Coran says he's been teaching you how to use that knife of yours properly?"

Amazing how a simple blanket phrase 'teaching Keith to use the blade' could mean both woodworking and how to dismantle a Galra sentry in the same breath. Coran chuckles nervously, faking a wide smile. At least it meant Synthia and Keith got along.

"Come on, Coran," Keith says, grabbing his hand. "The park closes at dusk and we have to get the tent set up before then!"

Coran allows himself to be dragged along by a pint sized Number Four (or was he Number Five right now? He needs to see how the other Paladins are faring without interfering)

"I await our next meeting with bated breath!" he calls out as he hobbles out the door.

Synthia waves. "The house will be in good hands while you're gone! Bring back some good pictures of animals or--" her eyes dart around, looking around for anyone else who might be listening "-- aliens. You know what they say about the desert at night."

Coran doesn't have the heart nor the time to tell her.

~~~~~

Coran has the jacket packed away, far from their campsite.

It's just him and a small Keith, no one else for miles. Their fire dwindles, creating a faint glow against their two person tent. The two of them lay on the gravelly ground, comforted only by their sleeping bags, and stare at the stars.

The constellations are different here, but it's nice to see consistent shapes in the stars rather than constantly changing ones as they're on the run from Zarkon.

Another time.

"That one is Andromeda," Keith says, his arm and finger pointed up at the sky. "But I always look for Orion when Dad and I came out here."

...Shiro told him this one, but he can't remember for the life of him. "Ah," he starts, a bead of sweat running down his temple in embarrassment. "And why would that be?" he asks, saving the embarrassment of not knowing Earth constellations.

"He's got a sword. It's cool." His face droops, eyes on his feet. "And, I think about Mom." Dark eyes meet his, and when Keith speaks of his mother and the stars they glow with a beautiful purple - the only clue anyone will ever have that Keith is not entirely of Earth.

"Do you think that's where she is?" he asks earnestly. "On Orion?"

Coran hums as he thinks about where Ranveig's base is located in respect to Earth. "Actually, I think she might be closer to that Big Dipper." That one he remembers. Earth would name their stars after a ladle.

Keith grins. "Then I'll be able to find her one day if I follow the North Star?"

"I'm positive you'll find her one day, Keith. I know she wants nothing more than to be with you again."

The change in mood is complete. Keith's eyes shine with hope and belonging; he holds his blade close, the hilt wrapped in cloth to hide the Blade of Marmora symbol. "I can't wait."

But he'll have to wait many years before that happens and go through many dangers. In the meantime, Coran’s job is to prepare him for them. "Tomorrow we'll start getting you ready. Synthia is right, you'll have to learn to use that properly."

Keith rolls onto his side, facing Coran. "Are you always going to make kissy faces with her?"

Coran gapes. "Kis-kissy faces?" he repeats indignantly. "We have a far more sophisticated relationship than that!"

A tiny nose scrunches in disbelief. "You act like it. She's not mom though, and you're not dad; you promised."

"Indeed! Coran will suffice, or Coran the Gorgeous Man if you're so inclined. I'm sure Synthia would be quite happy if you just called her by her name."

For as long as she was in his life anyway. Did he have time for a relationship when his entire reason for being here was to give Keith a better childhood? He wraps his hands around the vial filled with the remains of Allura’s balmeran crystal - he’s attached it to a string, a necklace to make sure its with him at all times.

Allura - and Alfor for that matter - would have told him to enjoy himself.

Keith smiles and closes his eyes. "Thanks for taking me here, Coran. It feels like Dad is still here."

Perhaps he's already done most of the work. Now comes the fun part.

"Get a good night's sleep, Keith," he says, relaxing his hands behind his head. "Tomorrow I'll teach you everything about blades, the Paladin code, and how to extract scaltrite from a weblum."

"... a... a weblam?"

"We'll work on it."

~~~~~

"Coran, check this out!"

Keith rams through the door like a rampaging klanmuirel, holding his Marmora blade up high for all to see. He doesn't bother putting his backpack down, or even taking off his shoes - that'll be even more to clean later! Oh how Coran misses the Castle's automated cleaning systems. Two Earth-years has been nearly undoable. How is he to survive another eight?

Before Coran can say anything, Keith flips the knife up in the air and, in one heart-stopping moment, is about to catch it with the unwrapped blade in his hands.

"Keith!" Coran leaps forward, digging deep in his old age to catch the blade before Keith cuts up his hand. He takes advantage of his Altean gifts and stretches his arms to grab it by the hilt, flipping onto his back as he lands on the floor the opposite side of Keith.

The boy himself has a loose jaw. "Woah," Keith says. "How did you do that?" He seems to blink away his wonder, driving into anger. "Why did you do that? I totally have that trick down!"

Coran stands and hands Keith back his blade hilt first. "You'd have ended up with a nasty cut otherwise," he scolds. Yet at the same time, he feels some pride in Keith showing him his progress. "You’re under rotating."

Keith frowns. "Oh." He fidgets. "Thanks, Coran. You're the only adult who understands."

"Oh, I can't be the only one," Coran says - though he knows Keith tells the truth in more ways than one. "What about Ms. Norris? She's a brilliant lady."

“She’s my teacher,” Keith replies glumly, averting his eyes in distaste. “Last time she found out I had a knife she called the police, remember?”

Coran winces. “Er, yes, that is true. Perhaps you should stop taking it to school. It’s very safe to leave here at home.”

“I can’t!” Keith protests. “What if Mom comes back and she needs this? Or the bad guys find this place and I need to keep it hidden? I can’t risk it!”

The determination is admirable, and on any other reasonable planet that’s made contact there would be no problem with allowing Keith to keep a family heirloom - no matter how sharp - on his person even as a child. But this is Earth, who still believe the creatures who live on Mars are green or grey with large black eyes.

(They’re actually closer kin with Pidge’s trash nebula friends.

“Keith, listen,” Coran says as he kneels and places a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I swear by Grogory’s beard your blade will be safe with me while you’re at school.”

Keith’s lips curl in, showing his upset face. “But Mom--”

“Wants you to be safe. You aren’t if you get in trouble with school. Promise you’ll keep it at home until the time is right?” Because Keith will need it one day.

Gaze dropping to the ground, Keith sighs. “Okay,” he relents.

Coran isn’t quite ready to believe him. “Promise with your pinky,” he insists.

Keith rolls his eyes. With pride, Coran watches as he creates the Altean royal symbol in the air with his smallest finger; the most serious of oaths.

“Thank you, Keith. That was very big of you. I’m sure you’ll have far less problems now at school.”

~~~~~

The silence in the car is deafening.

Treading down the dirt road, the hum of the (woefully inefficient) engine and tires kicking up gravel seems all the sound in the universe. It’s remarkably similar to the coming of age parties back on Novenia --

Keith huffs loudly from the passenger seat, looking sourly out the window and arms crossed for extra measure. Though his posture is closed off, the huff is Keith speak for ‘I want to talk’.

They have much to speak of.

Coran stretches his fingers and taps them over the steering wheel, looking for the right words. He tentatively gives Keith a side eye and winces even as he speaks with a nervous laughter, “I know you’re wanting to enroll at the Galaxy Garrison soon, but I thought you were interested in space ships, not cars.”

“He stole a Galaxy Garrison vehicle from an officer!”

This is a teaching moment, another chance to cement in Keith that there are people on his side and that love him - but they must talk about it. There’s a silver lining to this incident, one that aches his heart.

“It’s no trouble, Mr. Smythe. I think all Keith needs is a second chance. I’ll chat with him. Bring him by the Garrison tomorrow and ask for ‘Shiro’.”

He hadn’t been able to keep himself from crying as he spoke with Shiro (on the phone, not a video call) - seeing the young man (ever so briefly when picking up Keith, and making sure he wasn’t seen) before Galra captivity changed him. He’s the same, still kind and brave.

Coran can’t find the will to caution him about Kerberos. He’s not supposed to know, and what’s more Coran knows what the mission means to him personally - a dream, a way to prove everyone wrong about his capability.

But it only makes inaction hurt more.

If history is doomed to repeat itself, Coran only hopes it changes in the way that matters in the end. For Allura. For Keith to have comfort through the worst years of his life.

“...Ms. Burnt said I was a liar. She said I wouldn’t do well at the Garrison,” Keith admits softly. His clenched fists tell of the anger hidden just under his skin.

Coran knows why Keith’s teachers say as much. It sends a wave of guilt up his chest; perhaps he’s not been a father figure to the best of his ability; too many stories of space and what he’ll see out there. Keith still found the same schoolyard fights as in the original timeline.

“I have a hard time believing that,” Coran says with a bright chuckle. “You’re a very intelligent young man.”

Keith scowls. “It’s not my grades. The other kids… they don’t believe Mom is fighting bad guys, and that’s why she can’t come home and... ”

Ah here it comes. The other kids pick on him for not having his parents around, his mother having left. Though he’s told Keith a liquefied version of why Krolia can’t be here, it hasn’t made Keith miss her less, or given the other children or even adults reason to believe him.

His eyes flicker in Coran’s direction for hardly a tick, laced with sympathy. “They don’t understand you.”

Coran’s eyes widen and turns to Keith in disbelief. “What the quiznak?”

A car horn honks and Coran barely swerves the car out of the way of an oncoming vehicle. They roll off the side and into the desert, stopping just shy of a very worried looking cactus.

Keith’s classmates are making fun of him?

“Um,” Keith begins warily, his hands clenched around his seat belt, “sorry?”

Well, at least he doesn’t look like a - what was that expression that looked like the bi-boh-bi? Ah yes; a ‘wet noodle’.

But still, why him? He can’t stop Keith from regaling his classmates about his mother’s adventures fighting Zarkon - from what he remembers of them anyway. Keith has been in trouble with that before.

“Well, no offense Coran, but you’re a little… weird,” Keith confesses.

His heart stops; the world turns to dust around him. Coran feels as if he’s transported out of the car to a world of pitch black, a single spotlight on his heartbroken form.

“I’m… I’m not cool?” he manages to gasp. He’s only ever done everything awesome and hip - keeping up with all the trends!

Keith’s eyes light up with worry, shifting in his seat to face him. “I think you’re the best!” he says. “The kids don’t know what they’re talking about! Weblums are real - and so are aliens - they can’t prove otherwise! Mom’s trying to keep them away from here, right? So of course we don’t know about them!”

This isn’t the first time Coran just wants to tell Keith everything - that he’s from the future and in less than four years he’ll meet a different version of himself and he’s half alien and there’s a war out there and he’s going to be a Paladin of Voltron and please do everything in your power to save Allura.

But he’s changed enough by telling Keith stories of weblums and Altean fairytales, by just knowing his face. He’ll have to apologize to his younger self if it comes to that - there are sure to be fireworks when they meet and Sendak will still be on their tail.

Still, Keith’s enthusiasm warms his heart. For now, keep things on track. Shiro will help him get through the Galaxy Garrison just like before. This time though, Coran hopes he’ll make a few friends.

A few specific friends, that is.

~~~~~~~~

“There,” Coran says. He kneels before Keith, putting a finishing polish on Keith’s Galaxy Garrison lapel. “You look smart and dashing.”

The uniform looks good on him, even though he’s not yet grown into it. Coran imagines it in red, like he’s used to seeing on Keith.

It feels like the beginning of the end.

Keith shifts uncomfortably. “Coran, I’m not sure if I want to go back.”

“What? Quiznak, Keith, whatever for? This is all you’ve been talking about since you were yeh-high!” Coran exclaims, holding his hand above the floor barely to Keith’s knees.

At least he gets a laugh out of Keith. “I was not that little,” he protests lightly.

“Well you sure seemed that way to me,” Coran huffs before knitting his eyebrows together in concern. “Why the change of heart?”

Keith sighs, looking away and down. “The other kids are just like in school… some of them are even from my class. James has them all turned on me.”

Coran’s shoulder slump. That had only been orientation!

“I know it’s difficult, Keith, but I’m sure there are some kids who would be glad to be your friend. What about Shiro’s friend, Matt?” he waggles his eyebrows. “Doesn’t he have a younger sister?”

Keith’s eyes go wide. “Katie?” His face scrunches in disgust. “No - I - I don’t want to date anyone!”

Coran knows he shouldn’t laugh, but he does. “I never said anything of the sort. She’s closer to your age though. Perhaps she’d like to be your friend.”

Keith clearly isn’t convinced. Coran grins. It’s only a matter of time.

~~~~

“I made top pilot in my class again,” Keith says with a broad grin.

Coran stirs his tea and sits down at the table, where the video phone shows Keith’s proud face. He looks so young and innocent- but he wears the Garrison colors and every year he looks more and more like the Keith Coran remembers waking up to.

“Well done! I told you that you’d do it again! One more year and you’ll have all five eh?”

“That’s right,” Keith says, though he looks away sheepishly. “The only one who’s ever done that is… Shiro.”

Coran’s gut twists unpleasantly hearing the name of the man who will be leaving on the ill-fated Kerberos mission in less than a week.

Then Coran has one year. One year to say the right things.

“Then you’re in good company. We’ll celebrate with ice cream when you come home for break yes?”

Keith shifts uncomfortably. “Actually, Shiro’s invited me to stay for the launch, if that’s okay… I won’t see him again for a long time.”

Oh he has no idea.

“Ugh,” Coran moans, clutching his heart in fake agony. “Such is the cruelty of teenieboppers.”

Keith looks nervously to each side. “Teenagers,” he corrects. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Spend time with your friends, Keith. I’ve had ten glorious years watching you grow up.”

Keith smiles tenderly, “our families are all invited for dinner. You’re welcome to come. The Holts are coming too.”

“Oh I’m quite fine here,” Coran assures him. Although he misses Sam and their friendship, he isn’t sure he can look at the man in the eye any more than Shiro. “Have some fun. I’ll be right here when you need me.”

~~~

That time is four months later when without a phone call of warning, Keith comes crashing through the front door and falls to his knees with tears in his eyes.

Coran hugs him tighter than a yelmore grip and cries too without so much as a word exchanged between them.

~~~~~~

“I’m not going back,” Keith says when he comes down for breakfast the next morning. Coran barely stops himself from gasping, for Keith wears the same clothing that he brings to space one year from now.

“What will you do?” he asks with no judgement.

He already knows.

“I’ve always had this weird feeling when I’m out here,” he begins. “I never noticed it until I started school at the Garrison and it wasn’t as strong as when I come home for break.” He lifts his eyes, they shine with an alien purple glint, determined. “I think it wants me to find it.”

Coran nods. “I’ll help you.”

~~~~

It doesn’t take long for the house to fill with papers and corkboard. Keith writes math equations in his journal and Coran corrects them by asking pointed questions. The calculus is beyond what Earth teaches at universities, but it’s elementary for an Altean.

He finds the cave of the Blue Lion. Coran aches but comes with Keith anyway. He’s purposefully not come out here; it’s too painful a reminder of what is to come - of what he hopes will turn into a happy ending. He thinks the Blue Lions knows, too, Coran’s true purpose. The Lions were always smarter than they seem, even when Alfor was molding them.

He can’t help himself; while Keith takes pictures and mutters about what all this might mean in relation to him, Coran lays a shaking hand over an image of the creation of all five Lions. A single figure glows blue, a man set away from the five original Paladins and Allura.

The Blue Lion seems to know exactly who he is.

It’s strange even now to realize he was there in this event depicted by carvings over ten thousand years old.

The thought is just as sobering now as it was when he first woke from the cryopod.

“What do you think all this is, Coran?” Keith wonders from another wall. “What’s calling me is definitely here but… I don’t understand what it is.”

Coran pulls a thumb over the young woman in the creation picture. He closes his eyes. “You will one day,” he promises.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Coran,” Keith says softly, with relief.

~~~~~

“I think I’m stuck.”

Keith sits on the edge of the couch, hunched over and elbows on his knees as he reads the papers on the table. He has taken over the living room with his sketches and calculations. “Something is coming on December 14 and I have no idea what it is.” He sighs deeply. “I’m not even sure if my math is right.”

Coran sets down his book; Synthia will want to know what he thinks of it as soon as possible, but his priority is to help Keith. He is perfectly capable of telling Keith that his math is flawless - as Coran has taught him - but there is a better way.

“Why don’t you ask Katie?” Number Three will surely take up the task seeing as how she’s already decided to go undercover at the Galaxy Garrison in the next school year (only weeks away now).

Keith looks up, conflict in his eyes. “I couldn’t. She lost her father and her brother on the mission. Shiro was just a friend, it’s not the same.”

Coran looks at him sternly. Not sharing the same blood did not make them any less family, not between Shiro and Keith and not between any of the Paladins. “And I am a cooked duflax then?” Coran teases. At Keith’s horrified shake of the head, he continues, “Katie is hurting. You are hurting. You two should be supporting each other, not isolating yourselves. Family is family; blood or not.”

Keith smiles. “Maybe I’ll give her a call.”

~~~~~

“You hammered it, Synthia! It was the butler the entire time!”

Coran speaks excitedly into the video phone. Synthia on the other side, holding up the latest crime novel they’ve finished together.

“But you predicted the method!” she says, bending her knee and clasping her face with excitement. She’s curled her gorgeous red hair these days and it bounces around her face like a skipping xalax. Coran sighs longingly, placing his elbows on the table and setting his cheek in his palm - she looks even more radiant than the night they first met.

“I mean, to use the ink from the old printer to create the poison in the paint, knowing there would be a dare to drink it? It’s brilliant! How did you guess?”

“Oh, it was as easy as pi! If you remember--”

The now familiar sound of Keith returning with the hoverbike cuts him off, snapping his attention towards the door.

“Keith is home?” Synthia asks. She frowns, brows furrowed in concern. “I’m worried about him.”

Coran forces a smile. “Keith will be fine,” he promises. “He just needs time to find his place in the universe. Sometimes that can take some looking!”

Her ruby lips curl up the side of her face. “You’re the best thing to happen to that boy. I’m not sure what would have become of him if you hadn’t stepped in.”

“Oh, it wasn’t all me,” Coran admits. No, really his father should take the credit, and Shiro. He’s just repeating it all. “Keith is a good lad, he’ll get there with a little guidance.”

“He is. I’ll let you see to him. See you for dinner on… Sunday, right?”

Tiny weblums swim in Coran’s stomach. This will be a very important dinner - the biggest of his life here in the past. Synthia has been a marvelous companion, and with the days ticking down…

It is time he tells her the truth. She deserves to know.

“Sunday,” Coran confirms. Because he means to be gone before Keith returns home with Shiro and the other Paladins-to-be on Monday night. They will already have a more than capable Coran in space. “And not a tick past seven!”

Syntha says farewell as Keith walks in the door. He’s covered in dust - that jacket will need to be cleaned before tomorrow.

(The Castle washing machines won’t be operational for another week.)

“Did you find everything you need for your outing next week?" he asks.

Keith sets his helmet on the counter and leans into it, exhausted. "I have no idea what's coming, Coran; I'm not sure if I ever could be ready."

Coran hums and takes a sip of his tea. "One is not always ready for what is thrust upon them, but I am certain you will rise to meet whatever challenges that come at you." He winks. "You can be fiercer than a klanmuirel and wiser than a ivorkiv."

A laugh, the first real laugh he's heard in a while. Since before Shiro disappeared. "I don't know how you come up with these things, Coran. Where do you get all your stories?"

Altea won't do, not yet. Coran taps his head. "Right here in the ol' noggin."

"You need to write that book one day," Keith continues. "The one about the princess and the space castle."

Coran smiles. He'd hate to step on Lance's toes. The book will be an intergalactic success. "Perhaps," he affords Keith. "But where's all the fun in letting people look at you like you've grown five heads!"

Keith snorts, and grins. "You'd only need two. You're alien enough as it is, Coran."

~~~~~~

"At least wear a tie," Keith says.

Coran grinds his teeth. Earth clothing is so impractical! The ties on Altea are much more intuitive! "Synthia hasn't minded casual clothing for our rendezvous before and won't mind now."

Keith looks incredulously at him. "This is a big night. If you're going to propose, do it right."

"Who said anything about proposing?" Coran says as he ties the cloth around his neck in a knot.

"What?" Keith spits, surprised. "Coran, you two have been together since I was a little kid."

"And just because two adults enjoy each other's company does not mean marriage is inevitable," he says, slicking his hair back. Pivoting to his side, Coran waggles his eyebrows. Hmm yes, still got the look even with the grey. "I am however, going to ask her to go on an extended vacation with me. She just retired this past year and I want to treat her."

Keith perks up. "Oh? When are you leaving?"

And this is where it hurts. "I'm not sure yet. Very soon. You'll know," he says with a wink. Perhaps its cruel to leave him at this crucial time... but he'll also no longer be needed.

"Did you talk about tomorrow night with Katie?" he asked.

Keith folds his arms, looking away. Sworn to secrecy on her infiltration of the Galaxy Garrison no doubt. "She said she'd be there. I talked her into bringing her flight crew, just like you suggested."

"Oh good," Coran says mildly. Internally he's throwing himself a little party. "More friends for you to make?"

"Oh, I've already met Lance and Hunk," Keith says. He chews his lip. "They were both in my class. We hung out a few times."

Coran fights a large grin. "Oh did you? That's more friends than you claimed to have!"

"We didn't get along at first but... remember when you told me about how being at the top of the class can get on people's nerves? I tried to be calm about it and,” Keith smiles - genuinely happy, “I think we get along now.”

Perfect.

“...You have a good smile, Keith. You should use it more often,” Coran says. Mostly because he isn’t sure what else to say.

Keith chuckles. “You’re being weirder than usual,” he teases.

The car is packed. This is the last time he’ll see Keith before he knows everything. If he has it his way, never again. He’ll have his proper Coran and the other Paladins and Kosmo and his mother with him.

Coran won’t be needed any longer.

But as long as everyone comes home from this war alive, that’s all that matters. And seeing Keith happy has been well worth the wait. He can only hope his lessons come through.

“Tonight’s a big night!” Coran tutts back, wagging a finger. “And tomorrow doubly for you.”

The smile Keith so warmly held evaporates to a frown. He shivers, clutching his arms despite wearing a jacket in the desert heat. “I still don’t know what I’m going to find there, Coran.”

This is the last chance Coran will have to make a difference but…

He gently wraps Keith into a hug. The boy greedily holds fast to Coran’s shirt; as if he knows this is their last talk.

“You are smart and brave and kind, Keith,” Coran says. That part hasn’t changed from when he was a small child. “You will know what to do because your heart will tell you. You don’t need me to do that.

“Be good to your friends,” Coran continues as he pulls Keith closer. “Don’t let them go.”

“I’ll miss you,” Keith says through choked sobs. “You’ll call when on vacation right?”

Coran sucks in deep, and tries not to cry himself. “I will be there for you any time you need me. I swear it. Just ask. No matter what the situation, no matter how busy I may look, you can always talk to me.”

Even if it’s not him, exactly.

~~~~~~

Synthia takes the whole ‘being an alien from the future thing’ rather well - if jumping on him and nibbling on his pointed ears in a quiznakingly fantastic way is any indication.

(She eventually has the breath to say yes.)

~~~~~~

The first stop on their elongated vacation is the nearest national park - the one he and Keith frequented in his childhood. Synthia is in much better shape than he, Coran discovers miserably. Ten years of sedimentary living will do that, even to an Altean.

Coran wheezes, crawling as he lifts a hand to a perfectly nice sitting rock, pulling himself up. Never since visiting Balmera Alpha has he felt such an acute pain to his spine.

But it is nothing compared to watching the Blue Lion lift off into the atmosphere, with five humans in tow.

“Why didn’t you go with them?” Synthia asks, cozy next to him on the rock. “If you’re trying to change the future, wouldn’t it be easier with them?”

“No,” Coran says sadly. “I’d be tempted to change too much. As long as they are loyal to each other, everything will turn out fine.”

She smiles, a wicked one that sends happy chills up his spine, a blessed relief from the burden of waiting. “So then it’s just the two of us then?”

He turns to her and twirls his mustache. “How do you feel about Madagascar?”

~~~~~

Between the two of them - Synthia’s passion for biology and her early scouting days, and Coran’s knowledge of everything else - the two make an ecological home in the jungle.

The Galra don’t find them when Sendak invades. It both relieves Coran, and renews the unsettled feeling in his stomach - for now he knows things are happening in the same way, but also things are happening the same way and people are dying.

Coran sees Voltron for the first time in years, flying overhead to combat Sendak’s fleet.

He isn’t sure what to feel. Pride, for one, they’ve made it this far - they’re still a team.

He’s also anxious, asking the same questions of himself that he has been for the last five years. Did Keith find his mother? What became of Lotor? Of Shiro and his clone?

Did Keith hate him when he realized who Coran is? For not telling him the truth about everything?

Synthia takes hold of his hand and gives it a most comforting squeeze as they watch the IGF-Atlas take a pummeling from the combined firepower of five zaiforge cannons.

What Keith thinks of him hardly matters now, he tells himself.

But it still hurts.

~~~~~

Coran is on the beach two quintants after the Atlas returns home.

He lays back in his hammock, the warmth of the sun no longer bothering him after years of it at this angle. Sunglasses shade his eyes and make spotting the Altean shuttle landing nearby crystal clear to see.

He fingers the vial of Balmeran dust he still wears around his neck. He has only two questions.

Rising, his heart skips a beat seeing Keith again. The boy - no, man now - jumps out of the pod along with Kosmo, a sight that is very encouraging.

Still, even though he knows Keith is not quick to smile, the serious way he stalks up to Coran makes jumbles of his stomach.

Kosmo sniffs him first… and whines in confusion.

Coran kneels scratches the cosmic wolf under the chin, exactly where he likes it. The wolf sits and whimpers in delight.

Then he looks Keith in the eye, the otherworldly purple tint shining through just as it had when he’d talk of space as a child.

“Are you well?” he asks first. “Did you find everything you were looking for?”

And Keith melts, knees hitting the sand and arms reaching around Coran for a hug. “You could have come with us,” he says, nearly sobbing.

Coran exhales. He must have been holding his breath, for his brain and heart feel light. Returning the hug he says, “You had everyone you needed with you. The Castle just wasn’t big enough for two of me.”

His chest tightens - the moment of truth. “Allura?”

Keith squeezes him and Coran’s heart stops. All this for nothing?

No, not for nothing. Not for Keith.

But it hurts. Allura should be alive - enjoying life with the rest of them, her family.

“...waiting a bit impatiently for me to bring you back to the Garrison,” Keith finally says. “She says it isn’t fair for you to be away from us.” A sob catches in his throat. “I agree. You deserve to be with us - your younger self doesn’t mind.” Tears of joy give way to quiet laughter. “He wants to meet you just as bad.”

Coran lets the tears flow - the first time since he said goodbye to Keith in the hospital and came to the past a lifetime ago.

“Honerva and the other realities?” he says as he pulls away, he has to know. This reality is obviously fine but the others…

What did they sacrifice instead?

Keith grins, his cheeks stained with tears, wiping them away with the sleeve of his new black jacket. Maybe to reflect his role as the Black Paladin. Or maybe they never did the Lion swap in the first place. Coran doesn’t care. “Allura tried to sacrifice herself; we wouldn’t let her. The Blue Lion agreed, and so did Voltron. The Lions spit us out and we haven’t seen them again since.”

Voltron sacrificed itself.

Coran can’t help but think back to the day Keith found the Blue Lion’s cave - the glowing blue figure of himself. The Blue Lion knew him - why wouldn’t it also know his purpose.

Forged from the trans-reality comet, it knew, and granted his wish.

“Thank you, Keith,” he says. “Thank you for bringing her back.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” Keith grins back, his eyes soft and kind. “Allura still has a long life to enjoy and you’re part of it - and a part of mine too, with Mom and Kosmo, the others and both Shiro and Ryou too. Whatever you did in the future… it was worth it.”

One name is unfamiliar. “Ryou?”

Keith smiles, clearly pleased with himself. “Shiro’s clone. Long story.”

Coran sniffs, inhaling enough snot he’s sure he’ll be sick later. All that’s left is to find Synthia and travel back to the Galaxy Garrison and he’ll be with his family again.

Plus one. He can’t wait to try wrangling yelmores with himself.

If his younger self can pry him away from Allura’s side.

(He has a lifetime and more to make up for.)

[comicteaparty]

May 2nd-May 8th, 2020 Creator Babble Archive

The archive for the Creator Babble chat that occurred from May 2nd, 2020 to May 8th, 2020.  The chat focused on the following question:

What are some of the weirdest things you've Googled while researching for your story?

Cronaj (Whispers of the Past)

For Whispers of the Past, the weirdest thing I googled was probably: "puncture wounds versus lacerations" and "chance of survival after getting stabbed." Pretty sure I also looked up: "treatment for arsenic poisoning," "lethal dose of arsenic," "arsenic in nature," "broken ribs symptoms and treatments," "pneumothorax," "can a horse kill someone by trampling them?" and "how far can you fall without dying?" Basically, just a bunch of medical questions. For another story, I think the weirdest thing I looked up was, "can you take antidepressants and sleeping pills together?" More medical questions

carcarchu

@ cronaj's answer "i swear i'm an author not a serial killer"

Eilidh (Lady Changeling)

Hmmm.

shadowhood (SunnyxRain)

I think for me was searching up symptoms of PTSD, eating disorders, and also victims of cheating

Eilidh (Lady Changeling)

Probably that time trying to research poisonous substances available in Victorian and earlier households with potentially fatal results if ingested but not immediate, and their symptoms/treatments

The answer, incidentally, is that most of them aren't treatable if you've had a high enough dose to get symptoms.

And non-lethal doses tend to have unpleasant long term effects

Deo101 [Millennium]

I don't remember all the crazy stuff I've looked up. What's popping into my head at the moment, though, is I did almost a month of research into time travel paradoxes for a plot that I ended up not using! So that's fun

Eilidh (Lady Changeling)

Also that Victorians kept arsenic (a white powder) in the same place as sugar (a white powder) in often unmarked containers since literacy was low and labels only work if you can read them

There was far more accidental poisonings from putting arsenic in your tea than I can count

carcarchu

what about having a picture of a skull and cross bones on the arsenic tin

Eilidh (Lady Changeling)

I think it was arsenic. Maybe cynanide...

Ahaha

You'd think so wouldn't you?

That's not even going into the whole thing about green dyes for clothing being made from arsenic as well I think and being uh

Literally fatal to wear?

Well done, Victorians.

Let me grab y'all a source for that one

https://youtu.be/K2McemVuG28

Here you go!

shadowhood (SunnyxRain)

Oh my god what the

Them victorians are so morbid

Did you know that they have a garden of poison

Eilidh (Lady Changeling)

Welcome to writing historical!

Yes I did

I wanna go

But yeah go back a century or two

Literally everything seems to be poisonous

shadowhood (SunnyxRain)

Arsenic, radium......damn they don’t follow WHMIS

carcarchu

wasn't even that long ago when they were putting mercury in everything

Eilidh (Lady Changeling)

Including NORMAL FOOD

shadowhood (SunnyxRain)

And toys

Kids were playing with them

Eilidh (Lady Changeling)

Oh the Bradford Sweets Poisoning was a whole thing!

Hang on

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/1858_Bradford_sweets_poisoning

This one is uh

Definitely worse

carcarchu

bruh

Eilidh (Lady Changeling)

Yeah

There's so much of this...

It's amazing humanity made it this far

So yeah that's what I've googled

shadowhood (SunnyxRain)

Would that...even fly here nowadays

Eilidh (Lady Changeling)

What the arsenic

Nooope

shadowhood (SunnyxRain)

Hooooo god that is mildly terrifying

Like I make sweets for a living

I don’t even want to think how I’ll feel if I accidentally poisoned 200 people

Eilidh (Lady Changeling)

It did lead to modern food hygiene laws and much better regulations on chemists being responsible for their supplies

But yep

shadowhood (SunnyxRain)

I remember someone telling me “Behind every rule/regulation was someone who got hurt or died”

Eilidh (Lady Changeling)

Yeahhhh

Sometimes also where there aren't rules because hahaha some companies are shit

shadowhood (SunnyxRain)

Yeah it’s sucks and it’s even worse because you KNOW they’re just pushing the limits

Eilidh (Lady Changeling)

Capitalism has always been like that, it's just people can see it a bit more now

shadowhood (SunnyxRain)

Yeah, the age of information has really exposed the nasty side of things huh Hmmm I think I’ve studied something really different for my webcomic. I was looking into the justice system and how it treated minors

And I had to look up burn victims/homicides soooooooooooo

Eilidh (Lady Changeling)

Whoops sorry for the ping, I thought you said mirrors not minors and was gonna ask

shadowhood (SunnyxRain)

Oh god that would be....completely different

Eilidh (Lady Changeling)

I'm writing about vampires, mirrors are more common (concept and word)..

shadowhood (SunnyxRain)

Yes! I think it’s because back in the day silver was used in mirrors and that’s why you can’t see a vampire’s reflection

Tuyetnhi (Only In Your Dreams!)

weirdest thing I searched so far is about er the male modeling industry and how they have to slap cheeks and junks to get the body to fill in clothing

and I wondered "do I need to do a deep dive in this or"

Nutty (Court of Roses)

I tried to look up what damaged vocal cords looked like, so i could show it when Count Bailey got poisoned, but I mostly got body camera shots inside a person's throat, so I had to largely wing it by darkening the veins in his neck lol Other than that, I have to look up Irish slang a lot, as Merlow slips into it more when he gets drunk.

Eilidh (Lady Changeling)

I have a twittee thread somewhere about mirrors and vampires

shadowhood (SunnyxRain)

Okay tuyetnhi I’m a bit more...disturbed yet intrigued by that idea. Nutty yes I noticed that! I liked that small detail actually And Eilidh, i would love to see that twitter thread

Tuyetnhi (Only In Your Dreams!)

Yeah, I ended up making a deep dive and ho boi

it's darker than I expected LOL

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

I tried to look up people getting crushed by cars or falling objects but the videos were very blurry and made me dizzy so I just went fuck it my comic's not realistic anyways I'm winging it

FeatherNotes(Krispy)

Probably an extensive search for all things occult? Its such a wide topic so it was daunting to sift through everything, but also really cool to see so many different cultures have been influenced by such things! Ive read some excerpts about the sixth sense and human capabilities too, very interesting!

Cronaj (Whispers of the Past)

@Tuyetnhi (Only In Your Dreams!) That is the most splendidly weird research I have heard of

Tuyetnhi (Only In Your Dreams!)

I was trying to research for one of my characters and i'm just

the things they do

I scream everyday

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

lol tuyetnhi got me to look it up but all I can find is stuff about sexual assault

Tuyetnhi (Only In Your Dreams!)

that's what I mean

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

OH

:(

shadowhood (SunnyxRain)

Whoa okay

That’s really dark

Like I had to look up abuse relations

DanitheCarutor

Oh geez, I've looked up a lot of stuff. Recently I Googled public bathrooms and backs of toilets because I'm too lazy to get up and look at my own toilet. SAECKs/SAKs, the price with and without insurance, how it works and if men can use them. (Which was kinda sad that I didn't know they could although the resource was surprisingly hard to find, all except one link I found were about women using them.) I've looked up medical stuff like the different stages of certain cancers, their symptoms, treatments and other things involves like their effect on the person's mental health, if things like physical therapy is needed and the effects of the treatment along with the types of treatment needed. Also the cost with and without insurance, as well as cancer treatment facilities for people with low income. Various mental illnesses/disorders, the different types treatment, the effects of the treatment, as well as cost and facilities that offer free/cheaper treatment for people with low income. Lactose intolerance, celiac disease, gaslighting, trauma brought on by abuse. Things like the mental effects of children taking on adult responsibilities early on, growing up with lack of stability and human trafficking. Types of physical abuse that doesn't leave obvious bruising/scarring, psychological abuse (outside of gaslighting). Court stuff, like legal charges for attempted murder, court procedures. Caregiver programs for family members caring for someone with a severe mental illness. What actions are taken when someone files a charge for being drugged against their consent and the steps that need to be taken if your ID and credit cards/debit cards have been stolen, as well as what the police need do in those situations. Gosh, I can go on and on, just go on forever about all the things I've researched.

Most of it is medical and mental health related.

I feel this is fitting for some of the subjects we've Googled.

DanitheCarutor

Wow, I didn't realize how much I looked at the cost of stuff. Like a good chunk of my research has been dedicated to what different insurances cover, how much, the base price without insurance and payment plans for people in the latter category. I guess the upside is I'll have some knowledge on the different insurance companies if I ever get to a point where I can get it, as well as payment plan options if I'm ever hospitalized.

LadyLazuli (Phantomarine)

Googling images of cadaver hands for reference was... not a pleasant experience

mariah (rainy day dreams)

Most recently I was looking for heart dissections. I had to take a break cuz I was making myself feel sick X')

shadowhood (SunnyxRain)

Searching up burn victims was not fun either

shadowhood (SunnyxRain)

also this has made me realize that artists can be a very morbid bunch

Tuyetnhi (Only In Your Dreams!)

yeah like dang ya'll lmao

keii’ii (Heart of Keol)

I know someone who had to look up (a bit gory) "can you strangle/hang someone with your intestines"

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

Chances are the audience is not gonna know either so

dunno how much accuracy matters in this situation :p(edited)

shadowhood (SunnyxRain)

I mean....unfortunately I know what it's like to see a drowned corpse So if it's accurate....I would...strangely appreciate it more?

Like you never know your audience

DanitheCarutor

When I was first starting to dabble in comics I was attempting this dark fantasy/mythology-ish story that would have some gore. I looked up stuff like "skull being crushed", "what does 'x' limb look like when being ripped off", "what does a corpse look like after sitting for 'x' many days". Most of my searched led me to the Best Gore site, which is totally recommended if you need references for your gory horror comic, but is NOT a site for the faint of heart. You will most likely get sick from the content... and the comment section.

Oddly enough, when I used to do the occasional stand alone gore-ish illustration I'd get 1-2 comments with people being grateful for the accuracy. It's... interesting that they would know what would and wouldn't be accurate with stuff like that.

Cronaj (Whispers of the Past)

Oh, I looked up burn victims before.... Yeah, I've looked up a lot of weird stuff.

chalcara [Nyx+Nyssa]

I had to look up fresh and healed burnscar myself for a comic, a character survivived a housefire.

Most of the time I am googling history actually - and mostly tech-levels of a given time and what was contemporary with what - guns and knights for example co-existed for quite a few decades, that kind of stuff.

Deo101 [Millennium]

Y'know I'm thinking about it more, and I'm realizing why I can't recall the weird stuff I've looked up. I usually ask people for information! I know a lot of different kinds of people who are more than happy to talk about their experiences, so I can ask them for first hand experience with a lot of situations where I then don't really need to look up much other than to maybe fill some holes I have. It's a different kind of research

Cap’n Lee (Flowerlark Studios)

Huh, the weirdest thing I’ve googled? Well, there’s the ever-uncomfortable ‘Googling certain body types for reference but probably looking like a creep to anyone who looks at my search history’. I’ve also googled very oddly specific things like ‘What is a 5-cube called?’ (It’s a pentaract). I’ve also watched videos that demonstrate how a bump key works, and to my FBI agent, I swear it was only for my comic. My search history gets pretty eclectic. I look up a lot of religious lore, and do lot of research into medieval times - mostly about the daily life of the average peasant. Also things like quantum physics, customs in other countries, and animal facts.

Cronaj (Whispers of the Past)

Just realizing that I once researched "medieval brewing." That was an interesting train of information.

Erin Ptah (BICP | Leif & Thorn)

For a lot of gruesome or dangerous scenes, I try to aim the search toward movies and TV screencaps. Like, if you need to draw a crashing car, find a series with a dramatic car chase where they slammed a stunt car into a wall in high-def slow-mo.

kayotics

I think the weirdest thing I looked up was trying to figure out the answer to the question “is the gas released by decomposing bodies flammable? And if so how much gas do you need?”

eli [a winged tale]

now I’m curious what’s the answer

kayotics

The answer ended up being that if there was enough gas being created it was probably not enough to be flammable: aka it would not light up the room.

I ended up asking a friend who knows more about decomposition to figure out the answer, but I just wanted to make sure if a character brought a torch into a musty murder basement, it wouldn’t light them up like a Christmas tree

Mostly: it gets smelly and stale

eli [a winged tale]

Good to know!

Joichi [Hybrid Dolls]

Hmm I think the wierd thing I looked up was whether Smile Therapy was a real practice? There are Photos too and I have a feeling it was real. Another thing I look up was; How would a real lady pirate dress in historical times? I did alot of extra research for some little visual hints.(edited)

I feel like Mob psycho nailed the creepiness of Smile Therapy because they were patients forced to pretend to smile, that's what I envision each time. That ep stayed with me(edited)

Tuyetnhi (Only In Your Dreams!)

oh my god

Miranda

What is that picture from?? it's creepy haha(edited)

snuffysam (Super Galaxy Knights)

mob psycho 100

shadowhood (SunnyxRain)

smile therapy is terrifying. Imagine getting punished if you didn't smile

in the end you'll be smiling as a conditioned reaction to fear, not because it's genuine

Joichi [Hybrid Dolls]

Yes exactly, the original one was hard to record so the Google was ambiguous about its existence but there's photo proof that it was a thing

[missmarquin]

Magnetic, Ch. 1

In the future, romantic attraction is literal: each person is fitted with an electromagnetic bracelet which will pull you to your soulmate. It's hard, wondering who's out there for you. It's harder yet, when you have to come to understand yourself first.

Read on A03, for best quality (Including proper italics and such!)

Domain

‘A magnetic domain is a region within magnetic material in which the magnetization is uniform in one direction.’

Eighteen was a big year for many, but turning twenty is what people truly waited for.

Otabek had never really given it much thought, he supposed. Amita might not have been his initial choice of who he’d want to spend his life with forever, but she had since grown on him-- not unlike a fungus. She was sharp and quick-witted, and he had to admit that his parents had made a good choice. Really, they had. He and Amita just worked together, their relationship didn’t require much effort.

So the ceremonious receiving of the Destiny Bracelet wasn’t so ceremonious for him. He didn’t want to fuck up something that was good for him.

“It’s such a stupid fucking name,” Yuri said through the phone screen. Amita rolled her eyes, as she held the phone out, and Otabek smirked back at the video feed. “ Destiny Bracelet . What is this, some shitty fucking rom-com?”

“Hey now,” Amita pouted, leaning around so Yuri could see her through the screen. “ Some people like shitty rom-coms.”

“I guess you’re allowed to,” Yuri said with a genuine smile. “You’re special though.”

Really, Otabek’s luck couldn’t be better. Yuri was the most important person in the world to him, at the end of things, and he fucking lovedAmita. They were practically partners-in-crime themselves.

“What’s the point anyhow?” Yuri continued griping. “ It’s not like you aren’t getting married regardless. You and Amita are stupidly in love.”

Otabek and Amita shared an amused glance, and he said, “Why not? It’s not like it’s going to hurt me, you know? Besides, Mom is curious.” Not his mom, just Mom, the woman who had seen Yuri once before instantly adopting him as her own. Much to the boy’s aggravation.

Yuri snorted, rolling his eyes. Otabek wasn’t sure that he was stupidly in love with Amita, but he was happy and honestly, that was more than he could ask for. There was a mild fear that the bracelet would want to pull him somewhere else, but many people ignored it anyway. The journey of finding that soulmate wasn’t worth it to some.

Otabek was okay with that. He wasn’t the kind for grand romantic gestures or sweeping adventures. It was less work to stay in his tidy little bubble, and it suited him.

“Are we all ready in here?” A voice piped from the doorway. Everyone turned to meet a middle-aged man, the proctor in charge of attaching and turning on the gizmo. Otabek nodded and he whisked into the room, settling into the rolling stool beside the bed.

“I was I could be there for this,” Yuri muttered. “I wish I could see the annoyance on your face, the moment that bracelet beeps.”

Such a Yuri thing to say and do, to take pleasure in the vexation of others.

“Someone has rehearsal to be at, you know,” Amita chided. “Someone scored a spot in the Bolshoi Ballet Company, so that someone needs to stay put and not burn bridges before they are even built.”

Yuri sighed and Otabek hid a smile behind a carefully placed cough. Yuri wouldn’t listen to him, but he would always listen to her, begrudging as it was.

“Hold out your arm now,” the proctor interrupted cheerfully. Otabek did as he was told and the man fitted a length of cool metal around his wrist. It wasn’t his first time seeing one and it wouldn’t be his last, but he was always surprised by how boring it looked. Just a simple chain of lightweight links, fitted with neat and elegant looking square. The way it worked was a carefully guarded secret, but it worked and that’s all people cared about.

The point of the Destiny Bracelet was to make people happy, not make money and so, the world-wide program had been adopted free of charge. Yuri had always said it was stupid, because it could have made billions. He wasn’t wrong.

“As you probably already know, there’s nothing really needed to know about it’s use,” the proctor said. “It’s waterproof and practically indestructible, so you don’t need to worry about that. It can easily be removed if so wished, and once put back on, instantly kicks into gear again. No fancy buttons or doohickies,” he finished with a laugh. “You ready?”

Otabek shrugged and the man took a thin little tool, about the size of a paperclip, and shoved it into the pin-sized hole on the square. The bracelet beeped, indicating that it was scanning.

The room waited with bated breath, but nothing seemed to happen.

“Beks?” Amita said gently, curiosity full on her face. “Anything?”

“Uh,” Otabek started, lifting his wrist slightly. “No? I don’t think?”

The proctor didn’t seem fazed though, asking, “No tingling sensations? No feeling of being tugged a certain direction?”

“No,” Otabek confirmed. “Nothing.”

“Well, that’s not unusual,” the man said. “It only comes to life if your partner’s bracelet is active. Give it some time and it will start to work, I promise.” He folded his hands into his lap neatly. “Any other questions?”

“Yeah,” Yuri said from the video call, “Who’s placing bets on when that fucking happens?”

Otabek shot Yuri a glare, but Amita burst into laughter. The proctor smiled, before standing and handing Otabek a flyer. “This should give you more in depth information, but don’t hesitate to call, okay?”

Otabek nodded and thanked him, before standing himself.

“Three months till your woman gets hers,” Yuri drawled, “Ten thousand rubles that hers lights up like a damn Christmas Tree in your direction.”

The thought of Amita’s bracelet reacting to his own was a nice thought, but a one-in-a-million chance. Otabek remained hesitant about it, not wanting to get his hopes up.

“We don’t use rubles,” Amita tittered, her lips pulled into a sarcastic smirk. “What’s that about in tenge, Otabek?”

“About fifty-six thousand,” he deadpanned, and half Yuri’s monthly salary. Amita pressed her finger to her chin in thought.

“I’ll accept the bet and raise it, Yuri,” she finally said, a gleam in her eye. “One hundred thousand tenge that his bracelet doesn’t do jack shit when mine is activated.” Amita came from old money and didn’t bat an eye at the outrageous amount.

Otabek started slightly at that, but Yuri was already accepting the challenge before he could process that she had bet against them.

“You’re on, you hag,” Yuri snapped. “It’s pretty fucked up to bet against your own romance though.”

“Plenty of people don’t go searching for their soulmate, Yuri,” she said with a shrug. “Many people already love someone else and stick with them. Otabek and I are no different.”

It wasn’t that he didn’t believe Amita when she said it, but the both of them weren’t the kind to throw around something like lovelightheartedly. When they walked out of the building though, Amita’s hand reached out to find his, squeezing gently as they told Yuri goodbye.

It’s enough to believe that this might actually work.

It wasn’t.

Otabek didn’t know what was wrong with him when he finally came to that conclusion.

The more and more he thought about the silent bracelet on his wrist, the more he realized that he would be okay with it staying that way for the rest of his life. And that he would be a-okay with Amita wandering off and finding her own destined one.

Because honestly, the woman deserved it. She deserved more than a half-hearted romance with a man who just liked her. Like wasn’t the same as love. Otabek understood that now.

“Relationships are fucking useless,” Yuri groaned over the video call.

“I take it that the date didn’t go well then,” Otabek mused.

“It was great, until he tried to eat my face off like some sort of rabid dog. ” Yuri paused to make a disgusted sound. “You know, that was the first time I’ve kissed a dude and honestly I feel sorry for women. Men are disgusting.”

Otabek wasn’t sure what surprised him more-- that Yuri’s first kiss had apparently been with a woman, or that he had admitted that men were gross. “You told me he was gross before you went on the date,” he pointed out.

“Personality wise yes,” Yuri replied, “but Beka, have you seen his fucking calves?”

“Yes,” Otabek said. Yuri had shown him tons of pictures of the company, all the while complaining about every single member.

Yuri rolled his eyes. “You know, ignore that, it’s not like you’d ever fucking agree.”

It came out harsher than he meant, and Otabek mused at the irony of his statement. Otabek wouldn’t consider himself gay, but Yuri never failed to get under his skin when the time accounted for it. That moment wasn’t an exception, with his low-scooping neckline and hair falling around his face like spun gold.

Otabek promptly reminded himself that what he had with Amita was good enough, and not worth risking the only fucking friendship he had.

“So,” Yuri drawled and Otabek’s attention snapped back to him. “Less than a week until Amita get’s her little bracelet.”

Otabek smirked. “Regretting your bet yet?”

“Absolutely the fuck not. Everyone knows you two are disgustingly perfect. You’re almost as bad as the Piggy and Old Man.”

Otabek seriously doubted that, but laughed all the same.

“Are you worried?” Yuri asked.

“Not really,” Otabek said with a shrug.

“What if it’s not you?”

Otabek hesitated, but then said, “Not a problem. Like Amita said, many people stay with those they aren’t meant for. It’s not a bad thing.”

Yuri was quiet for a moment, regarding him carefully through the screen. Finally, he said, “You aren’t the type to do things half-way, Beka.”

It wasn’t a critique, it was the honest truth, and for once he didn’t know how to reply. But as soon as introspective Yuri had shown his face, he was gone, throwing out a dirty joke that he had heard from one of the pit musicians.  

After a long time of tossing jokes around and swapping stories, their call comes to its end. Yuri was clearly tired, eyelids drooping as he tucked into the hoodie that he stole from Otabek years ago.

Yuri had said his goodnight, about to end the call, when Otabek said something else.

“Would it make me a terrible person if I wanted her bracelet to point to someone else?” It wasn’t a planned question, or something he would have ever asked Yuri. His friend blinked slowly, his hand hovering over the keyboard of his laptop. “I wonder,” Otabek continued, “if I’m a horrible person because I might want to pull away.”

“Of course it doesn’t,” Yuri finally said. “It makes you normal. Everyone questions their relationships. Sometimes people are constantly questioning them.” He paused and considered something else. “You’re lucky though, I think. Amita seems the kind of woman tough enough to handle rejection in the end. She’d slap a smile on her face and thank you.”

Yuri wasn’t wrong, and despite his heavy-handed worries, Otabek managed another smile before they ended the call for the night.

Otabek couldn’t dedicate time to be there, when Amita’s bracelet was activated. She came from old money, and despite working, she worked for her parents. They showered her with all the vacation and time off she could have ever wanted.

It wasn’t like Otabek’s family weren’t well of either-- that’s how they had met-- but he didn’t like to dip his hand into the cookie jar so to speak. He worked hard for his coin, and as a result had less leeway.

So that night, he had been in his garage, fixing up a vintage bike for a collector. It was dirty work, leaving him smeared with grease, but he loved it. The feel of the tools in his hand, the way that the engine whined when finely tuned to perfection.

Really, it was all could have ever asked for.

“I take it that it’s been a good day for you, Beks,” Amita said, stepping into his space quietly.

He swiped at his forehead and turned to smile at her, but she seemed distant and subdued. Slowly he dropped his hand, as he regarded her.

Amita fidgeted, she never fidgeted, and Otabek couldn’t help the crease that stretched across his forehead as he moved to speak. But she held her hand out and paused. And he saw the bracelet there, blinking gently in the dim light.

His didn’t blink at all, because it had no call.

She saw his gaze and moved her hand self-consciously, tucking her hair behind an ear. “It’s not strong,” she said, “the pull. Whoever it is isn’t close by. I’m not surprised though.”

“I-- I’m not either,” Otabek replied, but the words didn’t sound bitter. Nor was there dread in the pit of his stomach. If he had to be honest, he felt relieved.

Amita leaned against his workbench. “I know what we told Yuri, but--”

“But it’s not right,” Otabek finished, knowing that’s where she was going with this. He stood, wiping his dirtied hands on a spare rag in his pocket. He moved to lean next to her and she smiled sadly.

“It’s stupid, right? I mean, I want to marry you.”

“I would like that too,” Otabek said truthfully.

“But it isn’t… it’s not right,” she repeated. “I can’t really describe it any other way.” She sighed softly. “I couldn’t deny whoever your soulmate is, you, Otabek.”

He snorted at that. “I think it’s safe to say I’m doomed to be alone, Amita,” he replied lightheartedly. And that was probably the truth. Most bracelets activated within several months, and the longer it took, the less likely it ever would. He was past the point of holding his breath.

She turned to look at him, her eyes flashing. “Why on earth would you think that?”

Otabek rubbed at his neck nervously. “I don’t know, I’m just not the kind of person who does people, you know? I’ve been thinking more and more about it lately, and I think that the single lifestyle would suit me.”

Amita regarded him quietly, tapping her finger against her chin like she always did when she thought. “I think the problem Beks,” she finally said, “is that you just haven’t found your person yet. I would love to be them, but… it’s not fair.”

“Yeah, it’s not fair to you--”

“ To you,” she interrupted. Otabek blinked at her words, her conviction. “You deserve happiness as much as anyone else,” she said firmly.

Otabek breathed an uneasy sigh, rubbing at his neck again. “I’m not holding my breath, you know,” he finally said.

At that, she laughed. “I wouldn’t expect you too. Above all Otabek, you are practical.”

He managed a smile at that. “What will you do, then? Go after him?” He took her hand gently, pulling it closer to see the bracelet. All it did was blink, signaling that it was on.

“I don’t know,” she said quietly. “I’m not sure my parents would be happy. They love you.”

“They love you more,” he pointed out.

She hummed at that, before reaching up and cupping his chin in her hand. “I’ll always love you,” she said quietly. “Despite what this bracelet says, or yours, I’ll always love you. I’m just not the one meant for you, I think.” She leaned forward and pressed a kiss against his brow sweetly. “Who knows? Maybe they’re closer than you think?” She smirked widely as she pulled back and let him go.

Otabek could think of one person that he wouldn’t mind, but those odds were heavily stacked against him. And he wasn’t the kind to dream.

Still, when she left him behind in his shop, his heart didn’t feel heavy. He thanked Amita for her unwavering friendship, knowing that he’d have it forever.

The first year after the break up had been weird.

Amita had decided to go West in the end, following the tug of her bracelet. Otabek had seen her off personally, hugging her tightly at the airport. They parted well, with light hearts and encouraging words. Otabek knew that they had made the right decision, no matter how disappointed their parents had been.

In turn, being alone had given him time to think.

The single life wasn’t so bad, he thought. Amita’s words about how he hadn’t found his someone yet floated around here and there, but he had chosen to mostly ignore them. It was easier worrying about himself, and devoting the time to come to understanding who he was.

Yuri told him that he was stupid, but didn’t press the issue.

The second year was better. The second year, Otabek discovered himself, exploring his freedom. He finally used that vacation time and savings, and hit the open roads on his bike. Not too far though gone, because he never missed his nightly calls with Yuri.

Yuri threw himself into ballet, constantly tired and bruised. And when he wasn’t punishing his body with grueling training regimes, he threw himself into shitty date after shitty date. No one seemed to stick, not that Otabek was surprised. Yuri was as prickly as a summer cactus, and his personality wasn’t much better. Not everyone could handle the abrasive man.

“A huge part of me doesn’t want to get the stupid bracelet, Beka,” Yuri complained one night during their call. His twentieth birthday was looming over them and in a few weeks, he’d know.

“You don’t have to get the bracelet, you know,” Otabek said, leaning back against his headboard. It was a late night and both of them were settling for bed.

Yuri sighed, sitting on his tony mattress with crossed legs. That night he wore baggy sweatpants and a wide-necked black shirt that showed off his collarbones--

Otabek distracted himself by taking a sip from the water cup on his side table.

“I thought about it, actually,” Yuri said. “But then you know, I also keep dating assholes, so clearly my method isn’t working out.”

Otabek raised an eyebrow at that. “Don’t date assholes then,” he chided, smiling.

Yuri rolled his eyes, before falling back against the bed. “How do you do it?” he asked. “How do you just… do your own thing?”

Otabek thought before he answered. “It’s taken time and a lot of thought,” he finally said. “And of course, Amita pushed me, I guess.”

“A cross-country trip to discover yourself doesn’t hurt either,” Yuri teased, and when Otabek looked back at him through the screen, he saw the smirk across his lips. Otabek smiled right back.

“I’ve thought about taking it off,” Otabek continued with, flicking at the metal on his wrist. Nearly three years later and it was still dead as a door nail. Frankly, Otabek had lost interest in waiting. “My soulmate doesn’t define me, you know?”

Yuri hummed quietly. “Don’t,” he finally said. “I mean, at least wait until it turns on, yeah?”

“It probably won’t, Yura,” Otabek sighed. “Studies show that most activate within the first year. I’m probably the rare case of never activates at all . And honestly, I’m cool with it.”

“Well I’m not,” Yuri scoffed. “You can’t tell me that someone doesn’t get Otabek Altin as a fucking soulmate, I won’t take it. You’re too cool to go it alone.”

“You literally said that you admire that about me.”

“That doesn’t mean I don’t think you’re deserving.”

Otabek ran a hand through his hair gently. “You aren’t like me, Yura,” he finally said. “Even though you don’t like people, you crave their attention. You’d never be okay on your own.”

“I wouldn’t be alone though,” Yuri replied quietly. “I’ll always have you, you know.”

Otabek did know, and he smiled. “It’s taken me a long time to get to where I am, but I’m good now. Give yourself a chance too, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled. There was a short pause, and then, “Do yourself a favor Beka. Don’t you take yours off either, okay?”

Otabek’s lips quirked into a smile. “Okay.”

“It’s a promise?”

“Always, Yura.”

Despite all of Otabek’s annoyance for his own bracelet, he was excited for Yuri.

He watched through the screen as Yuri sat on the exam table, twitching with apprehension. The phone must have been propped up against something.  “It’s stupid,” he snapped. “I should be at rehearsal, I should be running through forms, hell I’d rather be doing fucking squats.”

Otabek smiled at that. “It’s not the end of the world, Yura,” he said amused. “A few years ago, you were excited .”

“Yeah, until I realized what a drag dating is, and how disgusting men are.” He paused then, his face twisting into horror. “Beka, what if my soulmate is a woman? My life would be over!”

“It could be worse, you know,” he joked. “It could not work at all.” He raised his own wrist in response.

Yuri scowled at him, about to retort when the proctor came in. When requested to, Yuri stuck his arm out, the smooth skin pale against his dark shirt. Otabek watched as the man slipped the chain around his wrist, snapping it closed. And then the tool came out.

Yuri looked hesitant, but his eyes were bright as the man activated the bracelet.

But then they both fell quiet, watching. And then there was a little beep and Yuri’s bracelet blinked. He regarded it with an odd look.

“You know, I wish Amita were watching. I bet her smug ass would have enjoyed this.”

Before Otabek could retort though, there was another beep, this time not through the phone call. He froze and looked down, right as his bracelet flared to life.

[austennerdita2533]

Hi, Ashlee! I didn’t want to mess up our messaging system (and I’m going to get back to you soon, I promise!), but I have questions and I think you’re the right person to ask. Plus, I *think* you won’t mind if I start a discussion on Neruda’s work, haha. I’m going through Cien Sonetos de Amor and I’m a intrigued with the repetitive use of some words, especially “clavel” (not sure what’s the word in english for that lol). Any thoughts on the meaning of it? I’m curious about your opinion!

Hello Luiza. :) First, take your time getting back to me. Our messages to each other are long since we have so many different things to chat about, and it took me an abominable amount of time to get back to you last time so you’re totes fine. Second, I AM SO EXCITED you came to talk to me about Pablo Neruda!!!! It gives me a justifiable excuse to pull out and peruse this poetry anthology of his again: 

^^This book is one of my most prized possessions. No joke. It’s his entire collection of poetry in both English and Spanish. If there was a fire set to my bookshelves, and someone told me I could save merely a handful of titles,  (theoretically speaking only, because if this happened I would bawl my eyes out for years and years; probably forever lol), this collection would be one of the first things I’d grab.^^

Not only is Neruda one of my favorite poets of all time, but I often revisit his work whenever I’m in need of inspiration for my own writing or want to remind myself how figurative language and imagery - in either language - can be wielded in beautifully creative, unconventional ways. Just ahhh! His words fill me with an equal amount of warm and fuzzies and writer’s envy. The way he strings phrases and meaning together never fails to astound me. I mean–wow! Consider me an unapologetic Pablo Neruda fangirl. 😂

His100 Love Sonnets, in particular, are among those which I flip through over and over again, partly because I’m a romantic sap who aches to read about love in whatever form, and partly because his portrayal of it is so evocative and poignant that I shiver any time his words leap up at me from the page. 

As for your question, I believe “clavel” translates most closely into “carnation” in English? (That’s what I found through a Google search, anyway.) So that’d be a fragrant, double-cloved flower which is usually pink, but can come in other color combinations, too. I think a more archaic meaning of the word “carnation” has something to do with the color of flesh as well. Which makes me think of Sonnet XXVII in “Morning,” specifically, since he describes nakedness pretty heavily in it. More than that, the color pink/light red radiates from that poem and can be linked to both meanings of the word, imo. He describes a naked hand which is “transparent” with “apple paths”; he talks about naked wheat, which can be light-toned and/or burnt with color; he adds vibrancy to the bed of a nail in these lines: “naked you are as small as one of your nails,/ curved, subtle, rose until day is born”–and all of these bring to my mind the imagery/meanings of a carnation, if not the word itself. I love how - through his descriptions - he often alludes to certain words like that, too, without using them overtly, because when you look closely, you can see how he saturates his stanzas with them figuratively instead. It gives them more substantial weight and gravitas, you know? Carrying them from stanza to stanza and sometimes even from poem to poem. 

(Does the translation “carnation” make sense in the context of where the word “clavel” appears for you, since you’re reading in Portuguese? I hope I’ve hit upon the right-ish one.)

You are so right that Neruda weaves certain words or images repetitively throughout these sonnets, though! It’s one of my favorite things he does, actually, because not only is it purposeful but it’s done in a way that progresses from section-to-section, from “Morning” to “Midday” to “Evening” to “Night.” To be more specific, flower and earthen/nature words feature prominently in his love sonnets and what’s fun for me is recognizing how he flourishes them differently in each subsequent section in an effort to demonstrate the stages or cycles/maturation of love. 

For example, throughout “Morning,” Neruda overloads your senses with pomp, vivacity, pungent aromas, and thirsty sensations in order to highlight the “spiky passions” (III) “where sweet aromas rose and trembled” (IV) “hunting for you, for your hot heart” (XI) that often take place at the beginning of a new love - also known as the “morning.” It is the kind of love that is raw and visceral, pervasive, “fiery with its long red rays” (XVI) because it’s brand spanking new and has no roots as of yet. So almost everything he describes is budded and sweetly fragrant. The sensations feel fresh in this section; they taste pure and powerful, overwhelming ever part of you. 

Then, in “Midday,” he hits you with love’s growth and maturation where everything is still green yet will be “fed [to] the roots” (XXXIX) so that “little by little [love] turned into fruit” [VLVII]. There’s a lot of water and ripening imagery in this section, sodden with feeling, so as to show the ways in which love continues to change or continues to twine like roots which will “cast two shadows that flow together” (XLVIII). This is where and when and how love sinks into a heart. Twisting and curling into knots that cultivate in a way that’s meant to make it more and more difficult to snip them away.

Once you arrive in “Evening” after this, therefore, Neruda adds a profound sense of tangledness and “eyes squeezed shut in love that doesn’t help” (LV) because he wants you to feel how - at this point - love is embedded in you like poison. Living inside you in a way that “can no longer [be protested]” (LIX). In addition to that, he makes sure to mention some darker emotions like sorrow, troubles, stubbornness, etc. which attach themselves well to the fading of the day and to the expiration of a love that’s comprised only of “honeyed contentment” (LV). I think it’s meant to show how love is not always happy or delightful, that it can feel like a “craw full of teeth” (LIX) sometimes, but how that’s okay because those feelings are part of love’s fire. They belong to the heart’s wasteland as much as the sweet and savory stuff, too. 

Finally, in “Night,” I think his sonnets arrive in a place that’s equal parts reverie, reflection, and ethereal revelation. There’s this restless, intangible quality to the way Neruda describes love in this section, whereby he combines imagery of nature in a way that neither entombs aged sentiment in the life it’s already lived, nor bleeds it dry once the fruit’s been consumed in death. Love is “stubbornly transient” (XCVII), “waiting, raining on the dust, eager to erase even absence”(XCI). It’s eternal and beyond the corporeal at this point. Something that cannot be given up because it’s passing in silence “through an eternity of buried mouths” (XCV). It exists beyond the bonds of time, seeps back into the earth when it’s empty only to rise again and again and again. Effectively living multiple lives. Suggesting it never ends. 

It’s fascinating to me to see the variety of ways Neruda manipulates, or puts into startling context, words like “blood,” “fruit,” “earth,” “kiss” etc. and how he embeds the theme “love is a flower” no matter the stage - Morning, Midday, Evening, or Night - you find it in. In short, I LOVE IT SO STINKING MUCH.

Do you have any favorites, btw? It’s always hard for me to choose specific sonnets because I always fangirl over perfectly phrased lines, but as a whole, I love love love Sonnet XI ad Sonnet XXVII from “Mornings” and Sonnet XC from “Night.” The last one in particular gives me MAJOR Klaroline feels any time I read it, especially now with how they ended in canon. *cries* 

I’ve been dying to find a way/excuse to use this one in a fic:

I thought I was dying, I felt the cold up close

and knew that from all my life I left only you behind:

my earthly day and night were your mouth,

your skin the republic my kisses founded.

In that instant the books stopped,

and friendship, treasures restlessly amassed,

the transparent house that you and I built:

everything dropped away, except your eyes.

Because while life harasses us, love is

only a wave taller than the other waves:

but oh, when death comes knocking at the gate,

there is only your glance against so much emptiness,

only your light against extinction,

only your love to shut out the shadows.

ME:

Anyway, sorry for my longgg and effusive analytical spewing which I could continue for goodness knows how long, but I couldn’t help myself because I mean–PABLO. NERUDA. IS. AN. INSPIRATION. Sometimes I want to curl myself into the complex splendor of his words and never crawl back out, you know?? I read his stuff and I experience this rampant instantaneous fluttering that morphs into a squealed, “Omg, why can’t you write like this?”

What are your thoughts about Neruda in general? Or about his Love Sonnets specifically? I’m so curious to hear what you think of his writing even if you disagree with me, my analysis, or my estimation of him, completely. Like I said before–totally unapologetic fangirl here haha. xx

[briteboy]

okay i’m gonna be real with you. i have...a LOT...of messages. going as far back as like...january? probably? i know...i’m so bad...don’t crucify me. i tried to get through all of them but there were a lot that i didn’t have a worthwhile reply for so i’m sorry if i didn’t answer something you sent :{

so here we have: a lot of nice things, a lot of santisms, reactions to the lou and cillian punchout, a few responses to my portfolio and other stuffs...i wanted to put astrology asks in at the end but it’s...a lot more than i thought it was and it’s 3 am so i’d rather die than answer all of those LMAO sorry. i’ll get to it next time

Anonymous said:

u can delete the snorting cum asks but it will still follow you for eternity

okay so I saw the ask about snorting cum and it reminded me of a time that cum came out of my nose. It was gross but my boyfriend and I laughed it off. idk. I thought it would be a funny thing to share!! i'd understand if you didn't want this on your blog!! (maybe it makes you laugh!!)

wELL. WE’RE OFF TO A GOOD START HERE. i’m screaming at this...i hope nothing EVER comes out of my nose ever in life...i hate this but ur right it did make me laugh

(Winry anon again) Also, did you get her name from FMA Winry Rockbell because if so I love it

hehe...yes...

hornybodies

this is what bartsim calls me and i hate her for it

whats the truth bitch

I DON’T EVEN REMEMBER WHAT THIS IS ABOUT BUT I’M LAUGHIGN

i never realised how much i actually missed santi but now im CRYING AND I WANT HIM BACK IN EVERY SINGLE POST WITH LOU BY HIS SIDE LIVING HAPPILY EVER AFTER PLEASE

I missed santirat's beautiful face there are literal tears rn

me too...i hate that i miss him so much it’s so freaking dumb...i haven’t cried to my own story in a while but i bet i’m gonna once santi’s comeback rolls around. i’m already bracing myself

nvm u can have the lovely rat back, that way my heart wouldn’t be hurting like it is now

honestly yeah that’s fair

Been silently following your blog and though I'm more of a "ghost"(? What does that even mean¿) follower, I can't help but express just how chocked I am to see Santi again OMG. Gutted Lou has had a flashback, she does not deserve this. :'(

hello casper the friendly ghost...i love having santi pop up with surprise flashbacks hehe...ur right though she DOES NOT NEED THIS in her life, but it will get better for her soon do not fret my ghoulish friend

I need more pics of Lou and Santi together I’m not satisfied, thankssss

ELI AND MIYU GETTING SO EXCIted WHEN LOU TOLD THEM SHE LIKES GIRLS MY HEART :’)

HEHEH i love it cause that’s literally how my friends and i act, it was fun to write in a scene :~} i’m glad you liked it :’}}

Yeah when I cut my hair short everyone assumed I liked girls I found it kind of odd, but I didn't care too much. It mostly just made me end up realizing all the shit lgbt people go through, one time a guy literally went up to me and my friend, my bff who no one really knew was a lesbian was terrified because he said "oh dont worry lesbians are hot, but gay guys are just disgusting" it ended up he was talking to me, i just rolled up a piece of paper as tight as I could and smacked him on the head

EWW first of all that guy can take his weird fetishization and homophobia elsewhere thanks...i’m glad you threw a paper ball at him LMAO. but yeah on one hand, coming from ignorant/straight people it’s like “uhhhh why would you assume that about me”, within the lgbt community it’s like...common ground...an inside joke...i guess? so it’s weird. the link between hair, clothes and sexuality is can definitely be harmful in certain circumstances

fiona is my spirit animal and i love her ok thanks for coming to my TED Talk

that was illuminating thank you

i re-read santis story and i s2g i've read it so many times idk, but like its so easy to read i dont mean like emotionally but it flows really well. and like its not too confusing i hate when people make overly convoluted stories in an excuse for being deep its some good shit good job my dude

AKJSDKGKSJD THAT MEANS THE WORLD TO ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i never expected anyone to read it oNCE let alone REPEATEDLY...that really makes me so happy though because it’s definitely something you have to go back and read to catch all the details. ahhhhh thank you so much, i never ever want my story to be too complicated so i’m glad you don’t think it is!!

im crying because your recent post reminds me so much of my relationship with my mom when i was younger... she was always out of a job and sometimes we had to resort to living with other family members, it was all really hard on her and especially with having a kid she had to take care of at the same time. even though these are fictional characters, it’s comforting to know that other people have gone through the same situations i have. i love fiona and lou so much, they’re my heart and soul <3

OMG ;_________; i’m crying i’m so glad it resonates with you...i had a lot of friends growing up who were in similar situations and i think i kinda based lou and fi’s relationship on that, so you’re definitely not alone <33 i’m so glad you love them i love u

basically what I’ve learned from these asks is that Gianni is a perfect god-like human and I want one

he is. one time an anon told me they were like santi but they wanted to be rooney and i was like “i’m both santi and rooney on different days and i want to be gianni.” now u know why

hi, i just wanted to pop in and say that i really, really love your blog and i admire your editing skills SO much, i think you are EXTREMELY talented and i don't think you get told that enough. i've been following you for awhile now and i am in love with ALL of your stories, characters and edits you've put out! you're really an inspiration to me and i hope someday my edits can turn out as good as yours!! i don't have reshade so it's harder for me, but i'm trying to learn!! ok have a good day :-)

OMFG ;-; I DO GET TOLD IT A LOT AND IT STILL SEEMS FAKE...you don’t have to go out of your way to compliment me ;___; but thank you so so so much i’m crying...it makes me so giddy that i might inspire someone like WHAT...i don’t even know what i’m doing half the time i edit so u will definitely be able to catch up to me one day even if you don’t have reshade, i know it. i edited without reshade for like 2 and a half years on this blog so you can do it i promise!! have a good day/night/life i love u

fuck my succ

I'm in need of some giannti in my life

we all need some gianti in our lives

Hey! I just wanted to say that ur an amazing writer. You portray everything so well, it’s insane. I want to be a writer someday and I hope my writing is at least somewhat close to yours. Have an awesome day my dude💕

WOW I’M CRYING...i still have a lot of room to grow and so do you, i hope you are able to become the writer you want to be :’} and thank you so much for the wonderful compliment i’m emo have a great day as well

aver is my queen, confirmed.

avey is everyone’s queen confirmed

oksy but listen, look up the model Charlotte Ray Spencer

i did but i couldn’t find her?? all that came up was ray spencer obituaries in charlotte, SC LMFAO...charlotte spencer is an actress tho it seems, is that...who...? omfg

MAY I JUST OFFER THIS NEW SONG OF THE NEIGHBOURHOOD CALLED VOID BC I HAVE A FEELING SANTI WOULD LOVE IT (it's also meant for my aggressive sadboi oc)

OH I LOVE THIS IT FITS PERFECTLY WITH THE PLAYLIST I’M MAKING FOR THE NEW ERA OF SANTI...THANK YOU I’M TOTALLY ADDING IT

I had a ectopic pregnancy when I was seventeen but I feel like I got off lightly compared to Molly. Your story is so beautiful in so many ways, I think it’s incredible how much character development you’ve managed to pull off honestly I’m amazed. Thank you ❤️

omg ;_______; i don’t even know what to say to this, but it means so much to me i can’t even put it into words. thank you thank you thank you so much, and i’m so sorry you had to go through that as well. molly was an extreme case and i hope no one has to go through what she went through. i’m glad you’re okay now, and thank you so much for reaching out to me and reading my story at all ;-; <3333

just a heads up: the links button on your ccfinds blog goes to the femmefinds url still

oh yeah i know i’m gonna be real with you...i’m too lazy to fix it lmAO

Luv your stick n poke tats u posted!!! Could u do more? Maybe on diff places on the bod?? Ur so talented. Xx

omg that was FOREVER ago...maaaaaybe in the future...we shall see...but thank you <33

Can u do a family portrait for all ur characters like u did w Lou!!!

oooooh hehe i probably will in the future!!

Kill v maim is one of my favorite songs of all time omg it makes me wanna wear ripped jeans and a leather jacket and cover myself in glitter and smash some windows with a baseball bat MMMMMM

HELL yeah me too...i become a cyber punk alien vampire when i hear that song

maybe do a casting call posted here ? u have many followers and im sure a good chunk live in ur area and would be willing to model ^_^

omg SCARY...i probably could tho tbh that’s a good idea, thank you!

hi sunny, what program do you use to merge your cc and what do you use to detect and remove broken cc that just doesn't work in game anymore? thanks!

i actually haven’t merged on my new laptop yet but i used s4s for merging and there’s the mod conflict detector!!

My game hasn't been working since the first Cats and Dogs patch but I uninstalled and reinstalled and it finally works again 😭

sunny!! would you recommend your computer to play ts4 on? has it good graphics, can handle the highest settings and so? i really need a new computer but i have no idea which one to go for

yes i would recommend it!! i have reshade, ultra settings and like 8 gb of cc.

thanks for answering my ask eee ur story is probably the best ive read on here and yeah. i love how everything connects and everyones just so real. you dont have to post this i just wanted to thank you for being my inspiration and making me smile, laugh, cry, and scream in the middle of the night with your characters.

I LOVE U...it still sounds so fake to me when people say i inspire them, i don’t even know how to respond to all this ;-; just thank you for sparing a glance my way and resonating with my creations. <3 we scream and cry 2gether

I listened to Separator by Radiohead on repeat whilst reading Santi’s story and now that song just reminds me of him and Lou. I’d totally suggest listening to it’s so good! As is your story :3 xxx

oh radiohead that’s good sh*t...i’m listening to it now and i feel the santou vibes...especially when santi’s feeling out of his mind and she’s the only one who can calm him...haha cool..anyways THANK YOU!!!!

how do you make poses for the roof? i'm not sure how i can know if the sims will clip into the roof or float

honestly i just...eyeball it...because all roofs are different and you can’t put them into blender so. i just winged it lmao...i just made a pose that looked like it could’ve been lou climbing out the window, only the rig was still ground level, and then i used alt + 9 to lift the teleporter onto the roof as best as i could. that’s why it probably wouldn’t be a very practical pose to release, because i have no way of making it easy to use 

Lou punched him and I knew it would happen. 😀👌 nice, nice I like Lou whopping ass.

hehe i’m glad you enjoyed it...who knew she had a freaking hook like that

ok a theory... santi went to look for molly's mother and yea

omg tell me cillian sings every other freckle at some point

OMFG well...that song came out in 2013 and the current flashback year is 2008 so. i would personally murder cillian myself if he was still in lou’s life 5 years after this honestly

hey kitty girl! i was wondering if you could answer this teensy lil question i got. im writing a "story" anddd i was trying to figure out how to make some parts not cliche. like i hate reading about whatever and being like girll ive done seen this before so i just needs to know. kisses

i absolutely love how this is worded and the fact that u called me kitty, very cute. anyway...this is pretty broad, perhaps you could clarify what kinda cliches you want to steer clear from? a lot of the time when i know something is gonna be cliche and there’s no avoiding it, i just kinda own up to it and try to subtly point out how cliche it is and somehow that makes it work out better...like being self aware somehow adds another more realistic element to the story that makes it better? idk...anyway dm me if you need help!!

so.... lou can remember more of what happened? this is good! go 2 the police bitch! tell them!!!!!!!

she should!! but the only problem is she doesn’t have proof. so... 🤔

how do you write your stories in a way that everything is organized and you're certain and not confused with everything? i mean, do you have any way for writing that let you develop your stories with not so much difficults? i'm trying to write an story for months but i only have a few of the most important events on my mind, i don't know how to develop another important details, i always feel that everything is confuse or crap

hmmmmm well my mind is very ah convoluted so it’s a wonder any of this comes out even somewhat cohesive? but basically i have a very good memory and utilize google docs a lot hahaha. i’ve gone in depth about my writing process here!

whats a good way when it comes to starting a sims story? i mean like the first post? :/

ummmmmm maybe test the waters a bit and just make a post introducing your character(s) first? or dive right in and get sh*t started. it could go either way tbh

boyish by japanese breakfast is a santixlou bop

oh sh*t!!!!!! i love japanese breakfast!! and i love this thank you!

So is lou like into cillian in a way? Making him kinda be in her type

as of right now (in the flashbacks)? HELL fucking no. but you’re right, she did say those things in the future to santi. so 🤔

Everyone guessing shit stupidly annoys me haha. I'M UNOBSERVANT AND I DON'T WANNA GO BACK AND CHECK SHIT, LET ME LIVE. *Like* if you a ~dum~ reader who doesn't want every bit of foreshadowing called out. lol

i respect this honestly whenever i drop the hottest foreshadowing of 2018 i never expect my inbox to flood like it does but here we are and i am amazed

CILLIAN NEEDS TO FUCKING FIGHT ME (TYPING THIS ON MY COMPUTER BC I SAW HIS DINOSAUR ASS AND CHUCKED MY PHONE OUT THE WINDOW)

i’m screaming...i’m so sorry it’s my fault about your phone but like also i’m poor i can’t pay for that

i'm studying your latest posts because they're beautiful and my hatred for that long necked bitch is intensifying -- what makes me burn even more is that he's still wearing her necklace, can we say let the bitch burn?

burn babey burn

Why don't you use quick tags?

i’m dumb is why

CILLIAN IS SUCH A SHITASS I HATE HIS FACE WHY R U DOING THIS TO ME

BRUHHHHH THE DINOSAUR LOOKIN ASS BOY IS B A C K run

WAIT THE NECKLACE. HE STOLE THE MCFUCKING NECKLACE BROOOOO

What if Fi's blue eyes are from... Cillian..?

wHY did you have to make him cute and fucking cool though? I still hate him but it's harder.

NVM I JUST LOOKED AT THE POST AGAIN HES WEARING HER NECKLACE INHOPE SHE CHOKES HIMS WOTH IT THIS TIME

I SCREAMED AT THIS SERIES OF QUESTIONS OISDFNGJKDSKJN yeah sorry he’s conventionally attractive but unsettlingly so and i feel uneasy when i look at him and plus the fact that he’s literally evil so .

im like, to 90% sure that cillian is in ace joker. so that song might have reminded lou of him...

this was sent right after that scene of lou hearing the song at pippin’s, so

My conspiracy theory is that cillian is Lou's father. Speakimg of which are we gonna get to that soon, I'm dying of curiosity;.;

I’M LAUGHING I THINK U MEANT FIONA’S FATHER AKSJDKJGDSJ but yeah well. You’ll See

what do u resize ur photos to?

whatever 33% of 1920x1080 is i forget. i have a resizing + sharpening action so i just run that

im about to kill those kids if they keep fucking with my baby

THESE BITCHES BULLYING MY BABY LOU? CATCH THESE HANDS

me @ these ugly kids:

Who are the best creators for mens clothing? I struggle so much to find good cc creators with men specifically!

badabing badaboom

I’m not sure if you’ve converted things before but do you know any good sims 3 cc to sims 4 tutorials? Or your followers?

errrrrr i have no idea i’m sorry :x

would you consider making like a photoshop psd file with all the layers in your editing process?

omg...heck no it would be so unhelpful OMFG mostly because my editing is just my own action + shading and highlighting unique to that pic

would you ever do an editing timlapse of your gameplay pics? 💖💖

ahhhhh maybe!! probably in the future!

OMG HEATHERS WAS FILMED AT MY HIGH SCHOOL AND IM JUST HYPED UP SEEING IT BEING MENTIONED ON THIS ACCOUNT!!

OMFG THAT’S RAD...i’ve literally only seen it once tho i’m fake

I'M SHOOK. my friend kinda asked me out and I wanna say yes but my parents won't let me date. I'm 18! I need your advice! -signed 18 and alone anon

um UR 18 BUDDY UR AN ADULT...DATE WHOEVER THE F*CK U WANT HONESTLY

Can you pretty please link some photoshop tutorials you recommend? I really want to make my photos more cinematic and like your's without totally copying you or someone else. All I do right now is sharpen, color balance, and add some noise and then resize. I really need some more ways to get better looking photos such as yours.

ahhhhh the problem is i don’t know of any i’m sorry...lmao this is totally unhelpful :\ i have my own editing tutorial which is outdated but can probably help you out with the basics of lighting effects and shading n stuff?

Heyyy, I saw that you answered a question about making a ps action like your reshade, and I just wanted to say that I would love that! Unfortunately Mac users like me, can’t use reshade unless boot camping Windows onto our computers...☹️ and your reshade is just soooo pretty...

i don’t know if i’ll be able to replicate the reshade effect totally but i could release the action i’ve made for myself? it warms up screenshots but is totally adjustable to your liking for different color tones so in that way it’s kinda similar to the reshade. i’ll seeeeee what i can do...i know the woes of mac users all too well, my friend

i just wanna give lou a big ol cozy hug :o((( pls

pls hug her she needs it.

Do you post on tumblr from your phome or from your computer? Just curious.

mostly from my computer, sometimes i answer messages on my phone while i’m out and you can tell because autocorrect actually makes me use proper capitalization for once in my life

how many hours have you played the sims? for me i have 4,070 hours. haha help

OMFG i think mine is like...900 or something...i can’t tell if that’s too much or too little, but it’s definitely inaccurate

if i could only look at one person's tumblr from now on it would be yours. ur literally the queen of tumblr #shookaf and also i really hope i die before you ever say ur leaving tumblr cause when u do, i will legit die and bury my own grave. i really appreciate u and hope one day i can be on ur level but rn im at level 1.5 while ur up in the millions :D

I’M SCREAMING PLEASE I AM A PLEB.............i cry u flatter me too much ;-; i genuinely hope i never leave this place because it’s been so fun and it’s helped me evolve so much as an artist and a writer, plus i made some of my greatest friends on here. so i hope that day never comes!! but who knows life is wild. anyway i’m sure you’re actually like at level 578 and are just being modest. it’s okay you don’t have to be humble

i think its so cool that you and wanderlust and other simmers use multiple worlds to make your own town and stuff. idk why but thats just so cool to me and i would have never thought of it. love your blog and story <3

omg!!! well i couldn’t resist, i love a bunch of them and can’t limit myself to just one ya know. plus the more i thought about it, the more my gen 2 story kinda centers around these kids from this one town and the town itself is very relevant. so i felt like i had to make my own!! and i’m very excited to get started with that hehe

I just met a guy named Rodrigo Santiago and I sCREAMED HOLY SHIT

Update (tho idk of you got the first one): I just got a text from a classmate named Rodrigo Santiago. I'm sCREECHING

no freaking way. there’s no way i don’t believe...i want proof...

YOU SO FUCKIN PRECIOUS WHEN U SMILE

dont worry about posting this or do idc but i just wanted to say you should write about whatever you want and not care about whether people think you condone it or not. if i (a gay male) were to write about lesbians its not like im saying YOU HAVE TO BE LESBIANS BLAH BLAH BLAH you know what i mean? or if im writing about a robbery doesnt mean im like condoning robbery so like idk you do you boo and keep it coming ;D ilysm btw

OMFG no yeah i get it, i mean i think now especially in this online environment, people are hyper aware of Problematique things and so they’re a little too quick to point fingers without looking deeper than the surface. and whatever it’s fine people are always gonna be like that because people are mostly inherently judgmental, especially when it comes to consuming media. artists/writers face stuff like this all the time because people refuse to look past the surface, hence why works have gotten misconstrued all the time. but yeah i really appreciate this sentiment, thank u i love u

hope this isnt a weird question but what is the image size that u used for your character page?? thnk u 💕

omg it’s 300x300

have u listened to visions of gideon by sufjan stevens i was listening to it while reading ur stories and it made me so :(

oh my boy sufjan aka gianni’s personality claim i love him...and this song is :{ but i love even if it’s from the nasty age gap peach fucking movie

If i was married to Jamie and he treatin’ our daughter like that… oh I swear HES GOT TO GO!

it’s 2 am i’m so tired answering all of these i forgot who jaime was for a sec i was like um why are we talking about GoT anyways good night

how does alpha hair work with reshade? it seems so good in your screenshots and i’ve seen that in others screenshots it looks bad? whats the secret?

well good morning haha jk i never went to sleep anyway here u go

hooow do you make adorable toddlers in ts4?? teach me, gimme some advice please :(((

chubby cheeks! big eyes! small faces! little but plump lips! a good skin! dats all

how did u get ur sim onto the fire escapes?

ze teleporter mod, that’s it

I snickered at the, THE RETURN OF SANTI. Like I imagine it written in red horror lettering and santi just busts down the door and says ho ho ho im back bench, Did U miss me?

honestly i own a calendar and if i knew a definite date u already fucking kNOW it would be up there

ahhh im sorry for asking but im wondering how you find voice claims?? i'm looking for some for my sims, but it's tough to find one that's *right*, you know?? and your voice claims are great!! thank you <3

OMG voice claims are HARD, i literally just like “collect” them over time...i have a list in my phone of voices i like/may use in the future lmao, but try to think of actors or musicians and search interviews/movie or tv scenes with them speaking!!

i don't even read your story but i still follow you because i love your personality, sim style and just your whole entire tumblr

u follow me for ME? UM...what are u doing here...i’m so sorry (i love u...)

do you have a different reshade preset for flashback screenshots and for the present ones?

i do not!! i just edit differently

what happened to the honeycomb?

OMFG it’s still there...but we legit haven’t seen it since girooni’s wedding so um...it’s gonna have to get a makeover. i’m gonna do it when girooni come back home so i can finally show rupi working there like...wow...she deserves to be seen

lou's dad is the biggest asshole and i am waiting for the day that bitch dies

us when he dies

shit theory: caroline goes to find and confront cillian about what he did in teen lou timeline. care ends up forming a crush on cillian and goes back to meet him several more times, but cillian ends up liking lou more which makes caroline jealous. and that's why they don't speak currently, 'cause cillian ruined lou's life in more ways than one.

uM holy fuck that’s all i got to say

pls tell me that Caro killed the dude that choked Lou (or beat his ass)

god i hope so !

how many people do you follow? are you “strict” with who you follow?

i follow 264 people and yeah i’ve gotten a bit stricter with it just cause like...i only want to follow people whose content i truly care about/will actually notice on my dash

would you ever do a sim dump?

probably in the future, it seems like people want more male and female sims from me SO

ramona got some moves tf

the girl is out here bobbing to the chicken dance like nobody’s business

have u seen the end of the fucking world? if u did what are your #thots

UM......................i watched the first episode ‘cause i heard so much about it and um.............................it was so bad OMFG i hated it. way too edgy for me. completely missed the mark. not into it at all. hard pass

CAN LOU PLEASE HAVE A MAN IN HER LIFE WHO IS NOT A COMPLETE TWAT PLEASE

HOPEFULLY ezra will follow through with that and i don’t necessarily mean in a romantic way but like...as her new roommate MAYBE he will be a blessing we can HOPE

I'm not sure if you've been asked this or not, but your poses are so good and I was wondering if you have ever considered making a pose pack? Sorry if this came off as rude! I love your posts!

i will probably in the future!! but first i gotta figure out which ones i’d actually include

okay so this is random but I just wanted to say that I absolutely love your sims stories. Everything is so perfect and I'm forever shook because I can't believe the "sets" you use are actually the game. Your sims are so fleshed out and you are a huge inspiration to me. Anyways sorry if this was weird but I'm like obsessed with ur blog. bYe

AJHSDHJFSD THANK YOU!!!!!!! yes somehow we work miracles into this game can u believe it...ahh but thank you so much, it means everything that i would inspire you in any way...like what...omg

Santi is actually standing outside present Lou’s apartment wondering where the fuck he went wrong

he’s been there for 6 months just on the street standing there please someone let him in .

LOUUUU OH MY GODDD SKKDSNSJDH MY BABY. SO THATS HOW SHE GOT THE SCAR. WOW

there it is fellas. this message is sooooo old i’m so bad

Have you read/heard of The Lunar Chronicles

i have not!! but i’ll jot it down!

I was wondering if you’ve ever had any problems with skins? For me some on the palm side of the hand it’s noticeably darker than what the skin is supposed to be.. like the rest comes out find but the hands are darker.

hmm...that’s weird, i haven’t seen that. i think it probably depends on the skin? or maybe your sim detail settings?

santi my daddy, honeybodies my mommy, lou looking like a cutie when she saw dat tiny puppy. my name is rappin anon, and i just wanted to say, ur are my favorite simblr basically saving my day. rappin anon OUT

o...my god

i love u

i love u...