#indicate that she's actually moving through water like bubbles or currents she's just floating in nothingness

[hungry-hobbits]

kinda sucks that there's so much bigoted controversy over the new little mermaid movie just for it to also look pretty bad effects wise

[sapphicquill]

congrats on 100 followers friend <3 may I ask for anything with ler!Fjord bc the way you wrote teasing in your TAZ fic was so good? or lee!Lucretia during the Stolen Century arc being tickled out of her antisocial little shell if you're in a TAZ mood :) -Chock

Whoops. This is what happens when my whole life gets flipped upside down and I have to move cross-country back home out of no where! Sorry for the long wait, I'm finally making headway on these fics. I owe the entirety of this fic to @ticklishnonsense's honey-tongued because that’s the Ultimate Teasey Ler!Fjord fic and to @poesparakeet-fics for the plot because my smol brain could not come up with anything good and she gave me THE GOODS. Hope you enjoy, @chockfullofsecrets!

(ao3 link!)

Rating: Teen

Characters: Fjord, Caleb Widogast

Wordcount: 2423

After everything they’ve all been through, Fjord thinks he can handle most things. Spitting up salt water in the mornings, nearly getting impaled by strangers on a regular basis, Nott rifling through his shit—while he’d rather not deal with all of that bullshit, he can and that’s the important thing.

But the crushing weight of all the damn pining happening between Caleb and Essek might be the one thing Fjord absolutely cannot handle for any longer.

It had started innocently enough. Hands brushing and secret smiles and eyes briefly meeting before diverting, full of nerves and excitement and swirling butterflies. He’d experienced some of the same with Jester, but the two wizards were starting to get insufferable. It was painfully obvious to anyone in the room that they had a thing for one another, and even if it wasn’t, Fjord had overheard Caleb whining to Jester more than once about the entire situation, so it wasn’t like he was entirely oblivious to his own crush.

But apparently perpetually sad and stuffy wizards are really bad at just admitting what was right in front of their faces. Fjord’s worried that one of them might just explode soon, and that’s the entirely altruistic reasoning that finally inspires him to insert himself into the situation.

Caleb’s problem, Fjord thinks, is one of confidence. He gets too caught up in his own keen mind, tangling everything up in his head and overthinking and overanalyzing and panicking and deconstructing until everything’s just a jumbled mess of knots. He just needs a little push is all. A little something to nudge him past the trouble that is thinking and into acting. And Fjord thinks he knows a fairly good method of encouragement.

Thus, Fjord is currently standing in the doorway of the mansion library, trying not to reveal his presence too early. Caleb is folded over a desk with a pinched expression on his face that Fjord knows by now means he’s reached some sort of roadblock in whatever he was working on. In other words: a perfect time for an interruption.

“Productive afternoon?”

It’s a testament to how close the group has gotten that Caleb only sort-of flinches at the sudden sound of Fjord’s voice.

“Ah, nein, not really,” the wizard replies as he straightens up. His back makes an ominous cracking noise as he sits up and Fjord winces in sympathy.

“Gods, then maybe it’s time to take a break, hm?”

“Ja, a break…” Caleb trails off, eyes drifting back to the scattered parchment and books on the desk. Fjord resists the temptation to roll his eyes at the utterly predictability of their headstrong wizard.

“Okay, well now I’m making you take a break, Widogast,” he says as he marches swiftly over to Caleb and practically hauls him out of his chair. Caleb, unsurprisingly, goes willingly, letting himself be shuffled over to a nearby sofa.

With a huff, Caleb sits and begins massaging his temples, willing away either a physical ache or a swirling mass of snarled thoughts and ideas. Fjord lowers himself down next to the human and pretends like he isn’t thrilled over what he’s about to do.

A comfortable silence descends then. After a few more vigorous rubs, Caleb leans his head back against the leather of the sofa and closes his eyes and Fjord figures this is the best chance to spring the trap.

Quick as a slash of his falchion, Fjord twists from his spot next to Caleb and pulls him down into a horizontal position before caging the human in from above. He hovers over the now-prone wizard and tries not to feel too smug as Caleb yelps but doesn’t move an inch to try to wiggle away.

“Scheiße, what the hell are you doing?”

“I’ve actually been meaning to talk to you about something,” Fjord says casually as he can. Caleb gives him an exasperated look, complete with raised eyebrow and suspicious frown.

“And this ‘something’ requires you to pin me to a sofa?”

Fjord grins before scooping both of Caleb’s wrists up with one hand and pulling them above his head. Exasperation shifts quickly into a mix of disbelief, fear, and anticipation and Fjord is lucky that around his friends, Caleb wears his emotions very clearly on his face.

“Well,” the warlock starts, “I kind of figured that this particular topic would send you scampering off if I didn’t take some preventative measures.”

A fiery blush colors Caleb’s cheeks and Fjord tries not to laugh.

“And something tells me I thought correctly.”

Caleb makes a noise not unlike one Fjord’s heard from Frumpkin and finally starts to struggle lightly in his grasp, like his body is only now catching up with the rest of him. Fjord lets him, figuring that letting the wizard work himself into a bit of a tizzy will just make his own task easier. Caleb’s terribly predictable. As the human squirms minutely under him, Fjord lets his free hand curve subtly into a claw and hovers it just next to Caleb’s lower ribs.

“Now, see, I also think you might benefit from a little preemptive encouragement, because you’re the most stubborn fucker I’ve ever met when you have to talk about anything personal...”

Fjord trails off when he notices that Caleb’s eyes have locked onto his hand, mostly because he knows that the brilliant mage has connected all of the appropriate dots and will voice a protest in three, two—

“N-nein, Fjord, wait just a moment, there is no need for—”

Fjord slowly flutters his fingers, still poised a hair’s breadth from the stretched expanse of Caleb’s ribs, and Caleb cuts himself off with a hitched laugh-gasp, eyes wide as saucers.

“I don’t think you’re in any position to negotiate right now,” Fjord says, the edges of his voice tinged with a low growl as he keeps the motion of his fingers going. Caleb doesn’t really do much aside from grow ever so slightly redder in the face.

Without further preamble, Fjord finally moves his hand to meet Caleb’s torso. It’s like the wizard has been hit with a successful Thunderwave—his whole body jolts before tensing up so tightly he trembles. Continuing the fluttering from before, Fjord traces across the space between Caleb’s two lowest ribs and grins when Caleb lets out something between a giggle and a whine.

“Gods, you’re so easy to rile up, you know that?”

Caleb’s giggling picks up at Fjord’s words. He’d have pity on the wizard if it wasn’t so adorable. Still gently teasing at the softness of Caleb’s lower ribs, the half-orc leans forward until his mouth is right next to his victim’s ear.

“You’re just that ticklish, huh?”

Caleb thrashes, throwing his head from side to side so rapidly Fjord would be worried the human would hurt himself if he hadn’t watched this happen numerous times before. For good measure, he lets his fingers drift up Caleb’s ribs and lets out a small laugh himself as the giggles morph into airy, full-blown laughter. Exactly as planned.

“So you and Essek,” Fjord says casually as he straightens back up, pitching his voice a little louder to be heard over Caleb’s bubbly laughter. The wizard definitely seems to register his words if the cut-off gasp and even more desperate wiggles are any indication. Fjord laughs a little to himself at the adorable way Caleb scrunches his nose when the increased movement does little to deter his attack. Taking a little pity, Fjord pushes on, his free fingers swirling tight circles up and down Caleb’s right side.

“You know he likes you too, right?”

Fjord’s not exactly sure humans are supposed to turn that shade of red, but Jester’s got healing spells to spare right now, so he continues.

“And as amusing as it is watching you two dance around each other, it’s getting a bit old.”

“B-bitte, Fjord—!”

Caleb’s own laughter cuts off whatever plea was going to escape next. The wizard flops his head a bit side to side, like if he shakes enough he’ll clear Fjord’s words like trapped water from his ears. It’s downright precious and one hundred percent ineffective.

Adjusting his grip on Caleb’s wrists, Fjord lets his fingers trail up his captive’s ribs in the same slow pace he knows will drive Caleb up the damn wall. It’s a little impressive, actually, how easily this light tickling can take their resident wizard apart. Particularly useful at certain times. He can feel Caleb trembling under him, laughs high and desperate as the light tracing fingertips slowly migrate up to what both Jester and Molly affectionately refer to as his worst “death spots.”

“So, here’s my idea.”

His fingers flutter just below the space where his holsters normally are—fortunate Caleb feels comfortable and safe enough to remove them when at the house—and the wizard groans through his laughter.

“Either you promise that you’ll confess to Essek the next time he’s around, or I’ll just have to keep tickling you forever. How’s that sound?”

“Wh-aaat? Bitte, no, that is e-eehviil!”

“That’s kind of the point, bud,” Fjord replies around another laugh of his own. He floats his fingers up the scant few millimeters to the space between Caleb’s uppermost ribs without prompting and hopes that the wail the human lets out doesn’t worry the rest of the Nein. (It shouldn’t, not with the frequency Caleb makes noises like that.)

“I’m not letting up until you tell me the first words out of your mouth when you see Essek next are ‘Can we talk somewhere privately, Shadowhand?’” Fjord pitches his voice into a terrifically awful imitation of a Zemnian accent that has Caleb laughing, somehow, even harder. Though, on second thought, that might have more to do with the rapid little scribbles he’s got focused on the space above Caleb’s top rib than his attempt at accentwork.

Unsurprisingly, Caleb doesn’t say anything much in response, instead throwing all of his effort into laughing and squirming ineffectively. Fjord keeps a careful ear out for any hint of the safeword Jester had insisted everyone know about and respect upon pain of near-death, but the only thing coming out of Caleb is whimpered begging and a spray of foreign curses. Perfect.

Fjord takes a split second to send a silent apology to Jester, who will no doubt be massively upset she missed out on assisting Fjord with this bit of encouragement, but this was his game right now, dammit, and it was time to go for the kill.

(Would it be worth the inevitable tickling the blue tiefling would dish out later? Most definitely.)

“Alright, well, suit yourself, Widogast.”

With that, Fjord moves the tickling to Caleb’s exposed underarm and focuses the entirety of his attention on making the human melt.

With an impressive amount of core strength, Caleb attempts to jackknife in half to throw Fjord off. Fortunately, their wizard’s tricks are well known by now. Fjord barely budges as he keeps up the spidering under Caleb’s arm, letting his fingers trail just the slightest bit up the underside of Caleb’s bicep before reversing back down to the soft spot just above Caleb’s uppermost rib.

The fight drains out of the mage just as quickly as it revved up, leaving him loose and floppy and lost in the throws of his own cackling. Fjord would feel bad if he didn’t know how much Caleb was enjoying himself. Time to step things up a notch.

“You know how to get me to stop, Caleb. Do you really like the thought of me tickling you like this more than the idea of confessing to a crush you know is damn-well mutual? Really seems like it.”

More wailing, more thrashing, but still, no dice. Maybe a slightly different approach…

“Gods above, you’re just too ticklish for your own good, aren’t you?”

As always, Caleb responds viscerally to the mere word and that, of all things, seems to be the final straw.

“Scheiße, bitte! Habt mitleid! Ohhkay, I pr-promise!”

“You promise what?”

“Oh please, I caa-aan’t—!”

Fjord shifts from light tracing along Caleb’s top ribs to a solid press of his palm, steadying the human as his laughter slowly eases up. After a few gulps of air, Caleb continues.

“I will tell Essek how I truly feel when we next encounter him, I swear to you!”

“You’re absolutely promising me you’ll spill about your deep, undying love for Essek Thelyss the very moment he’s within twenty yards of you?” Fjord taunts, curling his fingers back into a claw at Caleb’s right side. The human tenses and anticipatory giggles start bubbling from him almost instantly.

“Ja, ja, I a-ahh-m!”

“Good!” Fjord says brightly, pulling his hand away from Caleb’s squirming form. He smiles down at Caleb, who looks about ready to protest the large hand still pining his wrists to the sofa, before lowering himself to speak directly into the wizard’s ear.

“And maybe after you two have worked everything out, I’ll have a little chat with Essek myself about how much you like this particular method of torture.”

Caleb looks a bit like he’s swallowed a toad.

“F-fjord, mein Gott, wait—”

“I’m sure Molly and Jester would be more than happy to help me tell him all of the best ways to tickle you senseless, hmm? They’re tieflings, you know how honest they get when tickling comes up. They’ll just gush about how much you love it when we wreck you until you can’t remember your own name.”

He isn’t even tickling him anymore, but Caleb is giggling, light and bubbly and tortured, all from Fjord’s teasing alone.

“Hell, maybe we’ll all get you the next time Essek comes by the tower. How’d you like that, him watching you get tickled by every single one of us until you cry and knowing you love every minute of it?”

Caleb’s just babbling in Zemnian through his laughter, eyes squeezed shut and a grin pulling wide at his lips.

“D’you think he’d join in if we asked him to?”

Caleb just keeps laughing. Fjord grins. Mission successful.

[hobbitsnapes]

the elf in the café chapter 5

A corpse husband story

(I do not own this photo, nor do I know where it originated from. All credit goes to the artist.)

Summary: Never in his life, did he think going to a cafe and meeting a Harry Potter nerd could change his life. (I’m shit at summaries

A/N: H/N means his name, being that we don’t know what his actual name is currently

It was as if any and all their problems, fears, worries and life escaped them as the weeks went by. It felt as though it was just the two of them, that nobody but them were present when they were together.

Their touches grew longer, and closer, no longer fearing underneath every hug, every small brush of skin. The only thing they had yet to do, was kiss. They both loved where they were, not feeling the need to rush anything, truly captivated in one another and the bubble they created.

She lay against her couch reading a textbook, other hand writing down notes with little thought.

She tried to pay attention to the words, but her mind was elsewhere, being captured by him.

The sound of his laughter drifted through her mind, his head thrown back as a large smile takes over his entire face, tears streaming down from his eyes.

They had watched a film two nights prior, a comedy to be exact. They rarely watched anything but horror, growing tired of the monotonous of the scares. They wanted a laugh, to watch the film with tears in their eyes as they clutch their stomachs.

It was hard not to watch him as he nearly choked on his own breath, snorts coming out every few seconds as he tried catching his breath. It was, amazing. She hadn’t felt this happy in so long, feeling her heart full for the first time in over a year.

She thought she’d never experience happiness again after that fateful day, a shooting pain in her heart at the memory.

She almost felt guilty, having felt happiness again. She never thought it was possible, but his shy smile, dazzling brown eyes and beautiful personality warmed her broken heart, not completely healing it, but filling it with a warmth that she thought had long escaped completely. ‘If only he knew’ she thought.

Tears streamed from his eyes as he pulled his disheveled hair between his fingers, trying to stop the screaming thoughts from his brain.

He knew today was going to be a bad one from the moment he woke up, but he hoped by thinking of her the thoughts would dissipate. If anything, they made it worse.

It wasn’t that the thought of her made them hurt more, but the thought of them.

He always feared the day she would see him the way he saw himself. A broken, sad, shell of a man. But she never looked at him with pity or annoyance. Always a look of love and happiness. She looked at him like he wasn't a damaged man, but a whole, amazing person. A person he sadly wasn’t. And he feared the day she’d realize it.

He sat in the shower, clothes still on as he hugged his knees to his chest.

The water wasn’t running, just sitting there as he tried not to let his mind consume him. His heart grew heavy as he thought of her, her smile making his chest burn in pain.

It was heartbreaking, to feel like she’s slipping away when he rationally knows she isn’t. He can tell himself that it’s just his brain doing this, that what he’s telling himself, isn’t real. But he can’t shake the every so draining and painful thoughts screaming through his brain.

He finally managed to get out of the bath, tears still falling from his eyes. He stopped making any noise, now only silent tears indicating any emotion in him.

He looked up at the mirror, and instantly wished he hadn’t. He never likes looking into it on a good day, let alone when his face is red from insenant crying, eyes bloodshot and fat tears still tracking down his reddened cheeks. Why would she want to be with this? Why him? He’s nothing but a broken, shy, drop out who’s only thing he’s got going for him is his deep voice that causes more pain than anything positive he could think. And he can’t even make himself known for fear of everything he’s built to come falling down!

His face momentarily changed to anger before he smashes his fist into the mirror, the shards instantly imbedding into his hand as he yells out in pain. He rips his hand from it, instant burning pain consuming his entire hand as blood drips from it down his arm. “Fuck!” He yells, panic setting in as the pain doubles.

He doesn’t think as he dials her number, tears falling from his eyes as he frantically tells her what he’s done and the sound of her panicked voice crushing his heart further. She promises to be there fast, mumbling apologizes multiple times, each one being answered with her calming voice saying it’s okay.

Her heart beats out of her chest as she runs down the long hallway, tears collecting in her eyes the closer she gets to his door. She managed to grab the first aid kit in her bathroom before she left, knowing he probably wouldn’t have anything to help.

She bursts through the door, having been given a key a few days prior in case of emergency.

“H/N!” She yells, hearing nothing back as her heart sinks.

She sees the light from the bathroom is on, running as fast as she can to it. She slowly opens it, trying not to startle him. A tear falling down her face when she sees him. He sat facing the floor, bloody hand in his lap as she sees him shaking from crying. “Hey hey hey, look at me hun.” She soothes, crouching down and holding onto his cheek.

He looks into her eyes, seeing tears collecting as she tries blinking them away. “Everything’s gonna be alright I promise. I’m right here, I’m not mad, I’m not gonna hurt you, I’m here to help you okay hun?” She says, making his heart skip slightly. She had no trace of anger or disgust in her face or tone, just purely love and understanding.

He slowly gives her his hand, leaning his head against the wall as he tries to calm his shaking body.

She slowly removes each shard of glass, cleaning each wound with unpost care and a touch so delicate, he couldn’t believe how soft she was being.

He finally was broken from his trance when she wrapped his hand in gauze, looking down and seeing all the wads of bloodied tissues around them. A new wave of tears fell from his eyes, lowering his head again as to hopefully not let her see. But she was smart, and instantly wrapped her arms around his neck.

He wrapped his arms around her tightly, pulling her onto his lap.

She ran her hands through his hair as she straddled his lap, tears falling from her eyes as she shook in her arms, violently crying into her chest. Her heart burned in sheer pain as his muffled yells shook through her, each one making another fat tear to fall from her eyes. “It’s okay hun, it’s okay, I’m right here and I’m not leaving.” She says, trying to mask her crying in her tone. “Why? Why don’t you just leave? You’re better off that way.” He cries, making her heart ring in pain. Is that what’s been going on? Why he hurt himself today?

She pulls away from him, holding his face in her hands as she runs her thumbs along his cheeks. “I don’t want to, I want to stay here, with you. I don’t care what your brain tells you about yourself H/N. I want you to listen to me when I say this, whatever your brain tells you, I do not see. I see an amazing, caring, beautiful man who has a heart as beautiful as the morning sun on a clever sky. You mean so much to me, and I’d be the dumbest person alive if I left you. I swear on my life H/N, I mean every word.”

For the first time that day, he smiled. A true smile through his tears as he heard her words of admiration. It’s like each word she spoke, it wove through him like a ribbon, coating every inch of his heart and soul. He no longer heard the screams of his brain, only her angelic words floating through like fresh water.

He wrapped his arms back around her, hugging her close as she ran her hands down his back, and for the first time that day, he was at peace.

Her eyes opened slowly, a smile coating her face when she felt the weight of his body atop hers.

They had moved from the bathroom floor to the couch, holding onto him as she lulled him to sleep with a hum, a hand running through his hair.

She looked at the clock on the wall, seeing the arms read 3:47 in the morning. She didn’t even realize how long she had fallen asleep for, just letting her eyes close as she drifted to sleep some hours prior.

She looked down at him, a smile on her face. His face was, peaceful. No longer the strained jaw and furrowed brows he usually had. His lips lay in a pout, making her chuckle lightly.

She ran her finger lightly over his face, slowly running over his lips and down his jaw.

She reaches down, kissing his forehead lightly, smiling when he scoots closer, rubbing his face into her neck. Her eyes grow heavy again, closing them as she lets his rhythmic breathing lul her back to sleep.

[wulfies-corner]

Idiot

Fandom: Star Wars

Genre: Fluff, Angst

Summary:  One pilot can't live without the other. One pilot keeps attempting to sacrifice themselves for the other. Crashes, arguments, and Winter Solstice ensue. 

Prompt: A scarf, a present wrapped very poorly, a kiss.  

Waking from a dream was always difficult for you. Your dreams always depicted a life that was better than what you had now. Not that your current life was terrible, but fighting an endless war on the losing side wasn’t what you called ideal. Your dream, cheesy and what you might say was ‘under budget’ for a dream was what you would call ‘grasping at straws.’ A beautiful but simple meadow, music playing softly from somewhere else in the distance, you in a dress you’d never thought you’d ever see yourself in and… him.

You danced through the grass and the flowers, his hand on your hip, firm but loving. The smile on his face, nervous but kind. His presence unreal but welcomed. The love that surged through his gaze calming. You would never believe this was actually happening, you would need to pinch yourself to make sure-

“(Y/N)!”

You awoke with a start, a rapidly beating heart, flushed cheeks and sharp pain surging through your body. There is nothing sweeter in this sad, miserable, war-torn world than someone you love calling your name, but… the tone in which your name was spoken felt bitter and worried. The room around you was white and well lit; the atmosphere alone indicated that you were in the medibay again and in very big trouble. You looked up at the culprit of your awakening, spotting him.

“Poe…”

“Cut the crap, (Y/N),” Poe was angry. That was the first thought that surged through your brain once his expression and tone of voice wriggled its way into your vision and your ears. “Why would you risk yourself like that?! Again?!”

“I…”

His hands planted themselves on his hips. His brow was furrowed and his eyes channelled the fury of a thousand suns. “You had better not try and work up some excuse! What you did out there was stupid, irrational, and not to mention dangerous!”

“Poe,” you squint in pain as a stabbing pain shoots through your leg. You knew what you did and you weren’t about to regret it. “I did it to save you!”

“At the cost of your own life?!” He yelled. “(Y/N), we’ve talked about this! I can’t have you dying in the field and especially not for me!”

“Why not for you?!” You argued back. “Why not die for the person I’ve looked up to since I was a little kid? Why not die for the person I grew up with, admired, learned from and fought for?!” You took in a deep breath, much more defiant than you’d ever thought you’d be towards him.

“Maker, you’re such an idiot!”

The word echoed in your head and you couldn’t think of anything else to say. ‘Idiot. Idiot. Idiot.’ Your mouth hung open and tears pricked your eyes. You watched Poe’s expression fall. He knew what he said, but he stood his ground. “You need to rest.”

With that simple sentence, he turned to leave. He stopped at the door as a nurse approached, most likely to see what the commotion was. He quietly explained away the shouting and continued on his way. As Poe’s distinct footsteps retreated from your earshot, the nurse peeked inside and raised an eyebrow in a silent request to enter the room, her pink hair swishing as she tilted her head to the side. You smiled sadly at her and nodded, laying your head back down on the pillow beneath you.

“Hey, (Y/N),” she sighed. “How are you feeling?”

“Not too great, but thanks for asking, Rhi.” She sat down at the edge of your bed, revealing a cup of liquid medication in her hand. She laughed at your immediate reaction of disgust.

“This will help until your next session in the Bacta tank,” she explained, barely containing her laughter, tipping the cup against your lips and giggling at your reaction to the horrible taste.

“That tasted like ass,” you complain, sticking your tongue out and shuddering.

“How would you know what ass tastes like?” She teased, standing up and running a hand gently through your hair.

You pouted at her but felt more relaxed as she played with your hair. “What happened after I-”

“You crashed,” she interrupted. “Pretty severe, you’re lucky to be alive. You were in the Bacta tank for a week. We had to take you out for a little bit lest you turn into a raisin,” Rhiannon half-joked with a chuckle. “Two more days inside of it starting tomorrow and you should be able to move on your own. I’d say that you’ll be eligible to fly again in about three weeks.”

“I’m not sure Commander Dameron would be too pleased with me flying again.” You comment, distaste in the remembrance of your argument with your other best friend.

“Well, he’s not happy, to say the least,” Rhiannon agreed. “This is the third time you’ve done something like this, but never so much as to nearly die. (Y/N), I say as both your nurse and your best friend, you need to be more careful!”

You rolled your eyes. “As careful as I can be running assaults on enemy ships.”

“Exactly. You’ve got a broken leg, three broken ribs, eighteen stitches in each of your arms, a black eye and one bad, bad case of road rash almost everywhere else. You really could have died. Despite the fact that I think it was bad for your health for Poe to yell at you like that, he was right.”

“I hate it when you take his side,” you moan.

“I know.” Rhiannon stood, smiling mischievously. You groan as her hand leaves your scalp. “Now get some rest. I want you to be up and not grouchy for more Bacta tank tomorrow.”

“But I-”

“Rest.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll rest.”

~

The next morning, you were woken up in the midst of another dream, being brought into the tank room, still under the influence of groggy exhaustion. Despite this, you were also given a heavy sedative to help you handle the Bacta, a liquid with viscosity somewhere between watery jello and thick slime, not an ideal thing to be submerged in at first.

The liquid of the Bacta tank hit your eyes when you woke up again two days later, not so much to be painful but instead slightly awkward. The outside was blurry to you and the breathing apparatus was blocking at least half your vision. You felt much warmer than you had than the entirety of your stay on this frostbitten planet, ever so slightly thankful that Rhiannon was a stickler for old tech and refused to have you lay completely naked in one of those suits filled with artificial Bacta.

As soon as your vision cleared the best you could, your eyes widened at the silhouette of Poe. He was staring straight at you and his expression immediately softened from being consumed by worry as soon as he noticed that your eyes were open. He looked to be holding something, but the apparatus was keeping you from seeing the entirety of his body. He pressed his right hand against the glass, his forehead soon following. You couldn’t hear him, but somehow you knew he was saying something. You, in turn, placed your hand over his before your sedation took over once more.

~

Being ‘freed’ from the Bacta tank was one of the worst experiences you’ve ever had besides being in an X-Wing crash. Bacta was warm and comforting, like taking a bubble bath in the perfect temperature of warm water or being swaddled in a blanket that had just come out of the dryer. You could feel relaxed and at peace. It was a place where you could sleep, breathe clearly (you had to give credit to the apparatus for that one), and feel like you were getting stronger.

Now that you were laying back down in your bed, you felt cold, stiff, and so strangely light that it felt like you would need to be tied down in order to not just float away. Slightly thankful that you could sit up now, you hunched over and attempted to hug yourself into the thin standard issue blanket to squeeze what little warmth you had left from the Bacta tank.

The hiss of a door opening caused you to lift your head, teeth beginning to clatter as a cool breeze followed Poe into the room. You hoped to the Maker that he wasn’t as cross as last time. You’d never been able to properly handle an angry Poe, even though you’d spent the majority of your life around him.

“Ever heard of knocking?” You ask sarcastically, watching Poe as he moved toward you and knelt before you on the floor. Your bed was quite low to the ground, so Poe was about at eye-level to you, but neither of you could look each other in the eye.

“Sorry, didn’t think it through,” he apologized, his face much more relaxed than before. You were thankful that he’s calmed down, but you knew that he wouldn’t hesitate to argue with you if you tried to defend your stance on the whole ‘sacrifice myself for Poe’ situation.

“Knocking or yelling at me?” You ask, hesitant of the answer.

“Both.” He paused. “You must be freezing.”

“Yeah, a little bit,” you shrug. “I guess it will be worth it, I can move on my own now.”

“(Y/N), you-”

“I know I was being stupid,” you sigh in dejection, cutting him off. “But I still stand by my decision to do it. I couldn’t bear to see you die.”

“How do you think I felt after I watched you crash?” He asked, voice firm but softer than the yelling match you two had been in two days before. “I was worried, terrified that the split second of you looking at me from your ship would be the last time I saw you. I don’t think you realize how important you are.”

You scoff. “I’m not an ace pilot like you, Poe. If I died, the Resistance could find someone to repl-”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he huffed and finally moved his gaze to meet yours. He lifted his arms and you noticed he was holding a scarf, the one that he always wore out on grounded scout missions. He beckoned you to lean forward and you did cautiously, “I’m not gonna choke you with it, silly.”

“Sorry.” You let him wind the scarf gently around your neck, the warmth of his hands helping your shivering, even if it was just a little bit. You leaned into the touch of the cloth, subtly taking in Poe’s scent.

“(Y/N), you’re my best friend,” he started, gripping your hands. “You’re important to me. To think that you would have died and it was my fault that I couldn’t protect you, I-”

“It wouldn’t be your fault. I’d trade my life for yours any day and I would take full credit for that,” you countered.

“And what would I do then, huh?” He was raising his voice again, and you looked off to the side at the wall in guilt. “What I’ve been trying to say is… I… I can’t live without you.” He gently pressed a finger to your jaw, gently guiding you back to look at him again. “Don’t you understand that things like that go both ways?”

“I never thought that…” you sigh, unable to form your words. “Poe, you remember when we were kids… and I was always so afraid that you and BB-8 were going to run off and go on adventures with someone else?”

Poe’s eyebrows furrowed. “Yeah, I remember.”

“I always thought that one day you would do it. That one day I wouldn’t mean anything to you anymore... and... I just thought that if one of us had to die for this,” you gesture around you, “to die for the galaxy, it would be me because you could run off and go on adventures with someone else and I couldn’t.”

To your surprise, Poe pressed his forehead to yours. “You’re such an idiot,” his voice was soft, barely above a whisper. “Such an idiot,” without much time to process what he meant, he brought his lips to meet yours. His grip on your hands tightened, and the feeling of your first kiss with Poe - your first kiss ever - was better than you could ever have imagined. Soft, nervous, kind, loving.

When you separated, Poe smiled at you. “No more of this dying business, okay?”

“Okay,” you nod slightly.

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

Poe stood, and you were a little nervous that he was going to leave again. To your relief, he sat next to you, reaching into the pocket of his jacket. “To that end, (Y/N), I know it’s still a few days from Solstice, but… I thought that I could give this to you early.”

“A present?” You ask. “Poe, I don’t deserve it.”

Poe chuckled. “I may still be mad at you, but you did save my life out there. I’d say you’re plenty worthy. Now come on, open it.”

Poe handed you a (very) crudely wrapped gift. It looked like he had taped on at least six layers of wrapping paper, ripped at the corners from the stress of his pulling. You grinned at the little gift, unsure that you were capable of ripping apart Poe’s effort. Still, you pressed on, carefully undoing the tape and making your way through the layers of red and green paper.

When you came to the end of the layers, you gripped the velvet box in your hands. You raised your eyebrows and looked at Poe, who was grinning in anticipation of your reaction. Lifting open the box, your eyes widened at what was inside.

“It’s Kyber,” Poe explained. You picked up the leather string the gem was bound to, the smooth feeling of the translucent rock sliding over your palm somehow made you feel at peace; like you were back in the Bacta tank where you didn’t have to worry about anything. “I thought that it would only attune to Jedi, but Leia told me that since the Force lives inside everything, it will help keep you calm and eventually it will change colour to represent your personality.”

“Poe…” you listened to the hum emitting from the Kyber, closing your eyes and leaning against his shoulder. “Thank you.”

You winced when Poe placed an arm around your shoulders, but you wouldn’t let him back off. “I love you, (Y/N).”

“I love you, too.”

[sebbytrash]

желание - Part Eight

Longing: A yielding desire

Pairing - Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings - Possible swear words. I’m scottish, I can’t help it. Some kissing, some fluff

A/N: REPOSTING BECAUSE OF BLOG MOVE

желание Masterlist

“Y/N.” Bucky cups your face, running his thumb over your lips, “Y/N, I have to go.”

You peer up at him from your position in bed, sleep making the image of him a little fuzzy.

“Mmmm, why? It’s so early.” You whine, snuggling further into the covers.

“Steve will come get me for our morning run soon. I kinda have to be there, or he’ll get suspicious.”

“Urgh, I guess. Well, have fun?”

He laughs before pressing a quick kiss to your forehead and disappearing out the door. You can’t help the smile the works its way onto your face, your forehead tingling from where his lips touched you. The intimacy of the gesture took you by surprise but it wasn't unwelcome.

Bucky had crept into your room late last night, long after your conversation with Nat in the kitchen. You both agreed that you weren't ready to share it with anyone else yet, wanting to have some time getting to know each other without the extra eyes on you at all times. It had been such an amazing feeling to lie beside him and simply allow yourself to touch him. Slipping an arm around his waist, or threading your fingers with his, the last 24 hours had been a dream.

Feeling lighter than you had in days, and just a little achy, you burrow into your blankets and opt at have a few more hours of blissful sleep.

A loud knocking wakes you several hours later, you pull the covers tight over your head, determined to ignore it. As if in protest, you stomach gives a loud gurgle and you feel the emptiness of it. Knowing there isn't much point in resisting - your appetite is legendary in the compound - you throw the covers off and trudge over to the door muttering to yourself as you go.

Swinging it open, you find yourself face to face with Steve, who’s holding out a breakfast burrito like its a White Flag.

“I brought you breakfast, don’t punch me.” He fake winces, before pushing past you into the room, “Now, can you put some clothes on?”

You glance down at yourself, realizing that you had opted to sleep in a tank and boxers because of Bucky, “Hey, you're the one who busted in here at-” you check your alarm clock, “12.30, jeez, is that really the time?”

“Yup.” Steve replies, popping the P whilst giving you his signature Judgement Eyebrow.

“Well, whatever. You don’t wanna see my ass, don’t come to my room uninvited.” You flop down onto your bed, tucking in to the burrito with a moan as the first bite hits your tastebuds. Your long past being modest with Steve, dude’s practically your brother. Besides, junk food really was your weakness.

“You ready to get back your training?” He eyes you warily as you inhale the burrito at lightening speed.

“Mmmrfffpphh, mmmay-ve.”

“God, you’re disgusting.” He wrinkles his nose at you before laughter erupts from him as the wrapper smacks off his head, followed by a rude gesture, “I’m kidding...sort of?”

“I said, maybe.” You resist the urge to stick out your tongue.

He stands, waltzing passed you on his way out the door, “You have an hour. See you downstairs, Kid.” He ruffles your hair on the way past. Maybe he’s more like a Dad?

Once you're finished, you shower and get dressed, choosing some workout gear since there’s no way Steve is gonna let you out of any more training days. He already gave you a week off since the attack. You catch your reflection in the mirror as you attempt to tame your hair, and it's the most rested you’ve looked in a while. You skin has color again, your eyes are bright and there's a perma-smile on your face that's threatening to make even you barf.

God, you were ridiculously in love. It was sickening. You take that knowledge and you stuff it down deep, way down deep.

When you enter the gym you flicker between the present and the attack, the sharp bite of the gun a phantom pain across your jaw. You blink slowly, once, twice, and your vision clears and your back in the present. You huff out a breath through your nose. Fucking Hydra.

“Glad you could finally join us, Y/N.” Steve says from behind the punchbag. There’s a few of the more broken ones stacked against the back wall. Two hanging a few feet apart, like weird stocky dance partners swaying to unheard music,

“Sorry, Captain Hard-Ass. Some of us mere mortals actually enjoy sleep.”

You hear a snort from behind the other bag, peering round you see Bucky standing, water bottle in hand and looking very post-workout. He’s wearing a tight grey t-shirt, the arms stretching to accommodate the sheer size of his biceps. Does the metal one count as a bicep? Huh. The shirt is damp with sweat, a clear indication of how hard he’s been working since he rarely sweats, and damn, even that is fucking hot. His sweatpants hang low and loose, and now that you know what's underneath you couldn't control your eyes if you wanted to. When your eyes finally meet his, he’s smirking, cat-got-the-cream smirking and you catch yourself mirroring it before casting your eyes back to Steve who’s finding the whole thing just a little too interesting.

“So, what's next in 100-ways-to-kill-Y/N?” You ask Steve, directing his attention away from the silent exchange between you and Bucky

“Very funny.” cue eyeroll, “Just some hand to hand combat, maybe a little knife throwing if you manage to knock Bucky on his ass at least once.”

Oh this was going to be interesting.

And it was. Or tortuous, or maybe both. Hand to hand with Bucky wasn't anything new, but the way Bucky lingered on your skin was. Every time he pinned you he'd hold it just a few seconds longer than polite, or his fingers would skim your ass as he circled you, teasing till your vision was blurry with it. He's using the way you react to him like a weapon and you find it immensely unfair. He's pinned you again, and this time you find yourself millimetres from the muscles and tendons of his neck, his turned his head to listen to Steve's instructions and you seize your moment. You place your lips on his neck, sliding your tongue over his pulse point, tasting the faint hint of sweat. His throat moves as he swallow loudly, his voice falters slightly and now you have the upper hand. You use the vantage point, knowing Steve can only see Bucky's body blocking you against the wall, you arch yourself against him, pressing so that your torso is flush with his, feeling his breath rush out of him in response. His grip on you falters allowing you to slip from his grasp, you slip a leg behind his and use his body weight to unbalance him sending him to the floor with a resounding thud.

Bucky blinks up at you, eyes wide, the whites threatening to overtake. Steve stops mid-sentence,  his mouth hanging open before splitting into a very Proud Dad smile.

“Nice job, Y/N!”

“She got lucky.” Bucky murmurs as he stands, but you see the secret half-smile he’s hiding under all that hair.

“We’re done for today. I have a few things I wanna go over with you tomorrow, but for today you did good. A little distracted, but good. Try to focus more tomorrow, huh Kid?” Steve gives you a weird look, but passes it off as a nod and then he’s turning to Bucky. Guess you’ve been dismissed?

Your eyes automatically slide over Bucky before you leave, he’s watching you over Steve’s shoulder sending you a look that sends bolts up your spine.

You wander through the corridors, a lazy pace, mind lost in thoughts of Bucky’s fingers slipping along your skin. You make it half way back to your room before you round a corner and straight into him. He hauls you by the waist until your back is against the wall, a running theme with him, and his face is inches from yours. He dips and runs his nose up your jaw, breathing deeply like he's grounding himself.

“Fuck, Y/N.” He mouths along your jaw, slowly but thoroughly, “Do you know how hard it was to keep my hands to myself today?”

“Hmmm…” Your mouth trips a little, distracted by the way his mouth and tongue are tasting your skin, “From where I was standing, you didn't keep your hands to yourself at all.”

“Trust me, I did.” His hands wander down to your ass, a thick thigh edging between your legs effectively pinning you to the wall, “Shit, I really did. The things-”

He cuts off as his eyes cloud over a little with shades of lust and edge. The look he gets has you wondering what those things were, hoping he’ll tell you, or better yet show you; the look of clear intent. His lips find yours, mouth sliding against yours as you tilt your head to deepen the kiss. The soft push and pull of him is making your skin hum and pulse with need.

“The things I wanted to do, want to do…” He continues, lips brushing with yours as his mouth makes the shapes of each word, his voice low and gravely, pouring over you.

“Mmmm, what sorta things?” You pull his bottom lip into you mouth, not really sucking, just a gentle pressure to hold it there and revel in the feel of it.

A loud buzzing pierces the bubble you were floating in, Bucky’s phone rudely interrupting your conversation and reminding you that you were currently grinding down on Bucky's thigh in the middle of an open corridor. With a heavy sigh, Bucky pushes back a little, edges his hand down to pull his phone from his pocket.

“It’s Steve.”

“You should go.” You brush your lips along his cheek, “I’ll see you later?”

“Hmm, yeah. Uh- do you...meet me in my room?”

“Sure, Buck. I’ll be there.”

You shower and change, spending a little longer on your hair than normal, attempting to tame it into some sort of style. You quietly make your way to Bucky’s room, avoiding the kitchen incase like the plague, knowing Nat is probably lurking again. Once at his door, you slip inside, relieved to have got here without bumping into anyone for a change.

Door shut behind you, you suddenly feel very aware that you were in Bucky’s room...alone. Doing a slow circle, you once-over everything, noting the absence of personal touches. Your eyes fall on the window, the now covered window. Your heart stuttered in your chest.

He’d hung curtains for you.

[commandershepardvasfuckit]

Chapter 2 for Galaxies Apart is up!

So chapter 2 is up! (link to AO3 here!)

(Chapter 1 is here on tumblr, and here on AO3)

In case you’ve missed my shameless self promotion, Galaxies Apart is my OC stuff (Ajaa the angara) and I’m pretty happy with how it’s turning out and the interest people are taking in it. Slow burn, friends to lovers, and of course awkward first times.

Julie hoped her second day would not be as eventful as her first one.

She planned on visiting the Repository of History to meet with the curator in order to get a better feel for angaran culture as a whole before she even tried to figure out all differences between people, surely in broad daylight there would not be any problems getting there.

The walk from her small apartment near the landing bay to the Repository was peaceful. There was a certain serenity about Aya, always a faint bubbling and splashing from the waterfuls, calls and songs from wild birds, and all the colors and smells from the flowers, Julie wondered if all the worlds with the Remnant vaults would be like this one day with all of them working now, terraforming the surfaces of the planets.

Ajaa was in the same spot as yesterday, kneeling down next to the planter to finish planting the sproutlings.

“Hey” smiled Julie, hoping Ajaa was not made about yesterday, “How are you feeling?”

Ajaa looked up to see who was disrupting his work, “Ahh, the human who used me as a speed bump yesterday, watching where you’re going today?”

“I’m really sorry about yesterday” Julie apologized again.

“It’s still alright, I kind of figured out you weren’t out to get me or anything” Ajaa smirked. He had a nice smile, it was good to see him not sort of grumpy or in pain.

“Hey, could I ask you a few questions?”

“Depends, is this going to get weird? Because there were a few salarians here a couple days ago and they got a little intrusive with me”.

Julie could not help but laugh, she had met several salarians, all nice for the most part but definitely a group of people who could occasionally get a bit over excited with questions.

“Yeah, most of our best scientists are salarians, always lots of questions. But don’t worry, nothing like that, just hoping maybe you could help me with some work”.

“And what kind of work is it?”

“I work with the Cultural Exchange on the Nexus, we want to try to bridge the gap between the Milky Way cultures and the angara, try to best understand the differences between us and avoid any faux pas so to speak, but that means really understand who the angara are and who better to talk to than an angara?” Julie smiled, trying to cover up how robotic her spiel came out.

“Well, as long as my genitals stay out of it this time I have no problem with it” he did not seem like he was joking.

“Purely cultural questions”.

“Very well”.

Julie paused, she did not have any questions planned. She had planned on visiting the Repository of History and doing her own research on the basics before even trying to interview any of the angara, but she could improvise.

“Where did you live before Aya?” she began, starting off with something simple.

“I was born on Havarl in a smaller daar, it was mostly just a research outpost”.

“And did you come from a large family?”

“Do adhi chase their tails?” he asked back.

“I don't actually know”.

“That is a yes. To both”.

“Do you visit your family often?”

Ajaa paused, seeming to recoil from the question. “Next question” he said without a hint of emotion.

She did not know where to go from there. Supposedly family was the most important thing to the angara according to what she had learned at the cultural exchange, and apparently not a good subject for Ajaa.

“Do you believe in reincarnation?” Julie asked cautiously, hoping that was not a sore subject too.

Ajaa took a deep breathe, “I’m not sure. I've definitely seen something from the past, I don't know if their memories”.

“You've had some kind of dream or vision?”

“Not recently, but when I was younger I saw things when I would visit the Repository. In the visions I was always walking around a great city floating in space. It was beautiful, there plants I had never seen before, technology that must have been from before the Scourge, I never saw people, but I heard them speaking a language I did not know”.

“How many of these visions did you have?”

“I'm not sure, five or six maybe”.

“And they just stopped one day?”

“I reached a part in the visions where something big happened, something changed and I was never able to see past it. I think I died then”. His tone was very matter of fact, more like he was making small talk and not sharing that he might have seen his death in a past life.

“You saw your death in a past life?”

“Maybe. I'm not sure what happened. In the last vision I had I entered a room, it looked like a medical facility. The other people were talking to me, I could hear their voices but I never saw them. They asked me something in the language I don't know and I responded, I don't know what I said but I felt sure of it and whatever was going on. I laid down on the table in the room and closed my eyes, then there was just a feeling of peace. I think I went there to die”.

Julie took a deep breath, unsure what to think of this man she barely knew telling her about this. “That's incredible, a little scary, but incredible” She answered, unsure what to make of the visions. “Have you spoken to anyone about the visions?”

“The old curator at the Repository. She told me not to worry about the visions, that it's not uncommon to see parts of a past life, something about the relics there being able to trigger memories.”

“And you think you saw your death?”

“I'm still not sure, but something about what happened felt final. It was a cold and sterile room, but there was a comfort to it, whatever was going on was because I wanted it to.”

“And you're sure it was a medical facility?”

Ajaa cocked his head to the side and took a moment to think. “I think so, I remember a table, and many monitors, and some sort of pod, but that's it.”

“Do you remember what was on the monitors or anything about the pod?”

“I think there were vitals on the monitor, but they weren't mine for sure, and there was another angara in the pod, at least I think. I don't know, I suppose it doesn't make a lot of sense”.

“That's alright. I think that's enough questions for now, I'm sorry if I brought up anything I shouldn't have”.

“It's alright. I haven't thought about the visions for a long time. Maybe one day I'll figure them out”. Ajaa smiled weakly, “I'm sure you have better things to do than just pick my brain”.

“It was interesting talking to you, maybe we can talk again tomorrow?”

“I think I'd like that. It's good to talk to someone that hasn't been caught up in this damn kett war. Let me give you my contact information, you can let me know tomorrow when you have the time to talk, maybe I can even show you around Aya”.

Ajaa pulled up the interface on his own communicator allowing Julie to copy down and translate his information with her omni tool.

Full name: Ajaa Na Rova. Age: 25. Born: Tersha daar, Havarl. Current Location: Aya. Occupation: agricultural scientist. Contact frequency: 6251.43

“I'll give you call tomorrow when I can”.

“I look forward to it”. He smiled again, he really did have a nice smile.

Julie headed towards the Repository, taking her time to stroll through the memorial gardens to read the plaques dedicated to all the angara who died fighting the kett.

Eighty years of war against an enemy that turned your own people into the enemy. Eighty years of families being torn apart and saying goodbye to people knowing it might be the last time you see them. Very few angara were alive who remembered what things were like before kett, and there was not anyone alive who was not affected by the kett.

It was a short, and luckily uneventful, walk to the Repository. Julie was more aware of people watching her after Sivus’s warning yesterday, more aware of people’s whispers, but at least no one tried anything.

The Repository itself was impressive, it was not a large building, but the amount of history crammed into such a small space was astounding. Julie was greeted by the curator when she got there, a young angara women named Avela who never seemed to stop moving.

“Welcome to the Repository” Avela called without looking up from the helmet she was examining as Julie entered the Repository.

“Hello” called Julie back, “the Nexus sent me. I'm supposed to talk with you to get a feel for angaran history before I start doing interviews”.

“Ahh, they told me to expect someone to come by, but not when or who. Anyways, I loaded up that console in the corner with some basics on angaran history, values, beliefs, and anything else culturally important. Go ahead and skim through that and we can discuss it when you're done”.

“Oh, okay. Thanks”. Julie had been hoping for a little more interaction than sit quietly in the corner and read.

“Is there something wrong?” asked Avela.

“Oh no! Just can't wait to actually discuss all of this with an actual angara” Julie smiled, reading everything then talking to Avela really was not a bad way of doing things.

“Haven't had a chance to talk to anyone yet then?”

“Well, I met a few people yesterday and I was able to chat with one of them for a bit today, and I'm meeting up with him tomorrow to ask him some questions actually”.

“Making friends already, that's good” Avela smiled, she seemed like a nice, albeit very busy, woman. “If you don't mind me asking, who were you talking with?”

“Ajaa Na Rova”.

Avela closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Oh boy. I wouldn't really consider him a good indicator of average angaran values”.

“What do you mean?”

“Don't get me wrong, Ajaa’s a good man, but losing your family so young and then being raised without family sort of skews your view on things. It's not a bad thing per se, but you're never going to hear him talking about the importance of family or anything”.

“Oh” Julie looked down at her feet, she felt a bit bad for asking Ajaa if he ever visited his family when they spoke earlier. “Do you know if there's anything else I shouldn't bring up around Ajaa?”

“The Resistance, the Roekaar, reincarnation, and don't bring up his injuries but if he mentions it first you're probably alright”.

“He doesn't like the Resistance?”

“He likes them now that Evfra is in charge, but before that is another story. The Roekaar is a sore spot in general, don't bring them up. And unless you’d like to spend way too much time on things that are probably not true I'd avoid bringing up reincarnation”.

“You mean the visions he's had?”

“Stars, did he tell you about them?”

“He mentioned them this morning, do you not believe in reincarnation?” Asked Julie. From what she knew just about all angara believed in at least some form of reincarnation.

“I believe in reincarnation, I've spoken to people who have visited here and the relics have sparked memories of the past, there's no doubt that people can see parts of a past life. But Ajaa?” Avela shook her head, “I have no doubt he truly believes he's seen a past life, but I think it's just a child’s imagination mixed with a lot of stress from what he was going through at the time”.

“So you don't believe him?”

“He was young when it happened, maybe 11 or 12 years old, just lost his family, was under a lot of stress from his injuries and the surgeries, and I'm sure he would have had some strong pain killers. Plus, what he saw doesn't line up with anything anyone else has ever seen”.

“So you think he made it up?”

“I think he saw something. But it was probably just a child’s imagination mixed with stress and pain medication”.

“Oh” muttered Julie.

“Look, I'm not trying to bad mouth him or anything, he's a good man, probably better than most, but he can be a bit of an outlier on most things”.

“No, I understand. I should read the stuff you set up for me”.

The rest of the day passed without anything else eventful. Julie learned more about angaran family structure and how differently angara on different planets developed. She learned how angaran law was centered around not necessarily the crime committed, but by how many people it affected and how much it affected them. She learned about how much of their history they lost when the Scourge hit 300 years ago.

“Did you have any questions on anything?” Avela asked as Julie began to pack up her things from where she was sitting at the console.

“I don't think so, the stuff you left me to read was pretty thorough, and it's getting late anyways and I wanted to explore Aya before it got dark”.

“Alright, if you ever have questions feel free to drop by” Avela smiled gently. She seemed like a nice enough woman, though Julie was not sure about she felt about the way Avela spoke about Ajaa though.

Julie made her way towards the central market, hoping it would still be open when she got there since she had not had the chance to visit yesterday after she had unpacked her things and checked in at the embassy. The walk was relatively short, and at least the market was on her way home.

Yesterday, or even this morning, she did not notice how tired everyone looked, Aya might be beautiful but the angara were still a people who had spent eighty years fighting a war. People passed by her covered in scars, or limping, or just looking like they lived through hell.

She had just reached the edge of the market when she heard a familiar voice.

“Hey! Human Julie!” Came Sivus's voice from across the square.

Julie smiled, she did not know much about Sivus, but he seemed like a decent person so far.

“Hey Sivus, doing some shopping?”

“Yeah, seeing if there's anything interesting to eat. You can only live on nutrient paste for so long until it gets to you” Sivus smirked, he seemed to like to smile a lot.

“No Ajaa or Paalka?”

“Nah, Paalka is still at the lab and Ajaa finished up early and went home, I think his legs were bothering him”.

“Because of yesterday?” Julie asked, feeling a bit guilty.

“Because he's Ajaa. He tries to hide it, but he's never doing as well as he pretends to be. Try not to feel too bad for him though, it's sort of a pet peeve for him”.

“I'll try to remember that”.

“I heard you bumped into Ajaa again today, well not actually bumped into him this time” same cheeky smirk on Sivus’s face.

“No, I've learned my lesson about looking for kneeling angara”.

“And you're meeting up tomorrow?”

“Ajaa told you?”

“Of course he did. That man has exactly three friends, if anything interesting happens in his life we know”.

“Yeah, he's answering some questions, sort of an interview. The Nexus stationed me on Aya to try to learn more about angara, learn how to better get along and bridge the gaps between us”.

“Huh, not a bad way to do it I suppose. But if you're going to interview more people though be careful who you chose, there are plenty of people here who aren't happy with the Milky Way presence here on Aya”.

“Do you really think anyone would try anything?”

“It's hard to say for sure, but better safe than sorry, there has been a few incidents”.

“What kind of incidents” Julie asked cautiously.

“Nothing too bad, throwing rotten fruit, petty theft, yelling, but still, I don't want my people to be a part of another war. I don't want the Roekaar and their sympathizers to start something with your Initiative. I'm not trying to scare you, but I do worry”.

“I figured. I don't want the Initiative and your people to fight either”.

Sivus smiled, much more genuinely than his usual smirk. “It's getting dark and if you're on your way home would you mind if I walked with you just in case?”

“I was going to check out the market first”.

“They're pretty much done for the day. Make Ajaa show you around the market tomorrow”.

“If you insist”.

“I do. Ajaa has wanted to learn more about you Milky Way people, you seem like a good person for him to learn from, I’d rather you not get scared off by fanatics”.

Sivus walked with Julie the entire walk back to her apartment, making small talk and pointing out a few of the interesting things about Aya. It was nice to walk with someone friendly and just absentmindedly chat about nothing at all. She had hit the ground running after coming out of cryo, immediately going to work with the Cultural Exchange before being shipped of to Aya, it was nice to just breathe.

[gaiatheorist]

“We’re all on the spectrum.”

One of my old managers had evidently heard the phrase ‘On the spectrum’ in relation to autistic spectrum disorders, and decided to use it randomly in relation to anyone he found a bit odd. Head-fuck there, because one of the many and varied indicators of ASD is a person deciding that they are ‘right’, and everyone else is either like-them, or wrong. My linear-logical flow-chart head has decided that the former manager in question wasn’t autistic, he was just a bully. (That’s why I had to ‘boss’ him, to show him that, despite him earning three times what I did, I wasn’t going to show him my belly. That didn’t entirely work to my advantage, because I ended up with a lot of additional workload, “Just cast your eyes over this for me?” I’m a pedant of a proof-reader.)

I have been guilty, in the past, of using a similar phrase, but in a contextually correct manner. Similar, not that lazy, throw-away ‘all on the spectrum’, mine was more nuanced “If you look hard enough at anyone, you’ll find traits consistent with autism.” Boring, procedural side-waffle, that to be diagnosed with an ASD, you have to fulfil the ‘triad impairments’, ever-shifting, but generally grouped into communication, social interaction, and restrictive or repetitive behaviours. (Damn and blast, I wrote an absolutely stunning overview of some ASD training I had at work in about 2003, that’ll be lost now.)

Lazy stereotypes abound in relation to autism, that we’re ‘all’ Rain-man, that we’re ‘all’ unable to socialise, or form attachments, that we’re ‘all’ idiot-savant, with some super-power sort of skill. Autism is not astrology, we’re not ‘all’ watching out for falling pianos, or expecting good news from afar because we’re labelled ‘Virgo’, or ‘Leo.’

In the same way as it being impossible to be ‘a bit OCD’, or ‘a bit pregnant’, a person can’t be ‘a bit autistic’, you’re either on the spectrum, or you’re not. I once worked with a student, and, after literally years of trying to access the right support for him, his Mother casually dropped into conversation the fact that he’d been seen by an educational psychologist, who had suggested ‘borderline autistic traits’. Puberty hit, his hormones went haywire, and we had a student displaying a plethora of traits-consistent-with-autism, but, because there was no formal record of an AS diagnosis, we had to start from square one, in a chronically under-funded CAMHS system. Numbers aren’t my thing, but I think he had five ‘allocated’ workers in a period of about a year and a half. I pushed through his Education and Health Care Plan, which was way above my pay-scale, I badgered CAMHS to keep trying, to accept that this boy really wasn’t coping, and said he was ‘fine’ because he thought that was the ‘right answer.’ He wasn’t the same as the boy who threw his bag up trees, and hid under tables. He wasn’t the same as the girl who screamed. He wasn’t the same as the boy who would spend hours walking around trees when he should have been in lessons, or the boy who genuinely believed he was Dennis the Menace.  

Over the years, I worked with hundreds of children, possibly thousands, some had confirmed diagnoses of ASD, some showed multiple traits, but had no diagnosis. Some, we managed to process through the convoluted and complex CAMHS teams for interventions, some we didn’t. Personally, I slipped through the diagnostic process at school because my traits were mostly productive, and the unproductive ones were attributed to other factors. (I’m smirking, at the memory of the Child Psychologist trying to use a visualisation technique with me. “Imagine the bad man in a bubble, imagine him floating far, far away, becoming smaller, and smaller until he’s gone.” “Yeah, no, the bubble has burst, and now everything is covered with him.” You can’t put a person in a bubble. I used visualisation techniques with some students, the undiagnosed-ASD ones couldn’t do it.)

My current verbal diagnosis of ASD makes sense. (Lazy stereotype about autistic people craving order- most humans crave order.) It also makes sense that other-issues historically have muddied the water, and that more recent issues have made the situation even more complex. Migraines, sensory issues, IBS, PTSD, sporadic anxiety and depression, then brain injuries. It also makes sense that, as a high-functioning female, I was able to mimic and mask, to work around my difficulties as not to burden other people. Until I wasn’t. The masking and passing always took additional effort, as the second neuro-psychologist phrased it ‘At what cost?’ The brain injuries made it very clear that I had multiple sensory issues, because I had to re-learn my masking behaviours, it wasn’t that the brain injuries had ‘caused’ the issues, they’d always been there, I just had more available cognitive capacity to conceal them. I’ve always had issues with ‘smells’, my brother used to buy ‘Pacers’ sweets, and then breathe the spearmint-smell onto me, knowing perfectly well it would trigger a migraine, that was before 1985, I remember the sweet-shop. Bright lights, flickering lights, even the noise light-bulbs make, I can tell when I’m really unwell, because I can feel the heat from light-bulbs on my face. ‘Scratchy’ fabric in clothes, or clothes that are too tight around my throat, garish patterns on clothes make my eyes feel sick, the ex found it hilarious that I referred to most of his ‘going out’ shirts as ‘clothes that would give me a migraine from the other side of the room’, it wasn’t funny. (Argh! The DAMNED striped shirts that the m-i-l insisted on buying him, I was the only one in the house that ever ironed anything, ironing striped shirts made me feel nauseous.)

I’ve never been a big fan of being touched, except in certain circumstances, first aid courses were a nightmare, and I’m that one who freezes rigid when people try to hug me. Lazy stereotype, which Tim Minchin knows not to be true, “If you have this vaccine, you’ll get autism, and you WON’T LIKE HUGS!” I’d totally let Tim Minchin hug me. That ‘could’ be attributed to the PTSD, there are reasons I’m not much of a hugger or a kisser, but that doesn’t necessarily explain my aversion to touch-in-general.   

Everyone is not on the autistic spectrum, people may exhibit traits consistent with autism, but that doesn’t make them ‘a bit autistic’, my ex wouldn’t eat sandwiches if the ingredients were in the ‘wrong’ order. He wouldn’t drink out of blue mugs, and he had several million hobbies, and obsessions,  my loft and shed are still full of his crap, He wasn’t autistic, he was just a prat. My step-father wanted my mother to keep the house to his very high standards, which caused arguments, but he wasn’t autistic, my mother was just a slattern. My father had an over-inflated idea of his own importance, and all-who-opposed-him-were-wrong. I worked with a teacher who brought the same sandwich for lunch every day, strawberry jam, no butter, actually, thinking about her communication style, she might have been autistic. I’ve worked with people who are incredibly neat, with people who became genuinely distressed if anyone moved things on their desk, I’ve worked with people who couldn’t read body-language, or would bang on about their chosen topic, and not notice people virtually climbing out of the windows to escape.  In isolation, these behaviours, habits, and choices do NOT mean that the individual is ‘on the spectrum’, they’re just a bit odd. (Odd as in peculiar, not as in ‘Oppositional Defiance Disorder’, that’s a whole different kettle of worms.)