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daydream-believin · 4 years

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The Never-Ending Roadtrip (kmart’s haunted)

Summary: (part 1) Reader has joined Douxie on the quest for Nari’s safety. He’ll need company. (part 2) - Missouri 1 (part 3)

Warnings: swearing, very light spooky?

Word Count: 2245

A/N: so we’ve established that Doux wasn’t the one who burnt the bookstore, but they don’t know that. look, have you been in a Kmart recently? its apocalyptic. also, you know that post about people repeating their default work greetings by accident? yeah

“Do you want me to split the bill or?” The waitress asked, not sure if the group at the table was a young couple and their child or just three college kids hanging out. It was kind of hard to tell. On one hand, that one kid was so small, wearing a little deer costume, and had been helped to order. The other two radiated the energy of an old married couple and talked mainly to each other. But on the other hand, college kids are just like that sometimes.

“Nah, I got it.”

“What? No. I’m paying for us.” Douxie insisted.

“I have the cash, Doux.” (Name) turned to the waitress. She put some honey in her voice. “Just bring us one bill, please.” The waitress nodded nervously before heading off.

“No. I don’t want you paying for too many things while we’re traveling. You’re unemployed.”

“And who’s fault is that Mr. Mephits-Are-Vulnerable-To-Fire? You fucking burned down the store and put us both out of work here.” Nari was squirming at the negative vibes going on. It helped that she didn’t exactly understand what was going on.

“It was magic fire!” Douxie interjected in outrage. He looked so cute when he got defensive.

“Yeah, okay, sure.” (Name) shook her head, looking up to the ceiling. She let out a huff, “look, I invited myself onto this trip, Douxie. I want to pull my own weight. You’re going to have to let me pay for something eventually.”

“We’ll see about that, Love,” he said as he grabbed the ticket from the waitress’s hands as quick as lightning, tucked his card in and gave it right back before (Name) could further protest.

“Ugh! FINE! Then I’m getting the tip.” She pulled out a tenner and slapped it onto the table. She glared right back into Douxie’s hazel eyes. He glared right back into hers with a matched intensity. Nari looked back and forth between the two and whimpered. (Name) broke the standoff to assure Nari that they weren’t actually angry at each other so she shouldn’t be worried. That seemed to ease the forest child a bit but not by too much. She could still feel the weird aura they were putting off.

“Okay! So here’s your check back and here’s that lox bagel you ordered to go.” The waitress handed (Name) a doggy bag.

(Name) took the bag gingerly. A big fake smile spread across her face as she was momentarily possessed by that good spirit of customer service. “Thank you! I hope your experience was spellbinding! Have a magical day!” (Name) said on autopilot in that high-pitched voice and winked exaggeratedly. It was like she was an NPC and her talk button had been accidentally pushed. The waitress laughed forcibly and scurried away to the kitchen. Douxie cracked up.

“You do know that when I told you to say all that stuff after ringing people up, I was hazing you, right?”

“Oh yes, I am completely aware, Doux. Did you think I’d not pick up on how ridiculous that sounds? But I still say it to spite you.”

He shook his head. “Of course.”

***

Archie scarfed down his bagel sandwich with almost disturbing speed. It was like watching the void consume, well, a bagel sandwich. It just disappeared. Down his furry maw and out of existence. Being a dragon works up an appetite, after all. (Name) was a bit baffled and asked him if she should go get him another bagel. He assured her that the one was just fine and said something about trying to catch some birds later. She leaned back on her elbows against the boat’s railing, trying and failing to not think about the details of that.

Douxie cleared his throat. “So,” He folded his hands together for emphasis, “Since the subject of money came up earlier, I think we should also discuss the topic of our accommodations.”

“Well, you two obviously cannot afford lodging every night.” Archie snarked, flicking his tail.

“Thank you, for that, Arch. No, I was thinking more along the lines of a tent.”

“A tent?” the cat asked incredulously.

“Oh, that could work.” (Name) pointed at Douxie animatedly, “keep us close to nature for Nari. And also could keep our possible property damage bills down. Good idea, Doux.”

“Thank you,” Douxie puffed up, “see Arch? Someone appreciates my ideas-”

“Wait. That’ll be a short-term solution. We’re just barely into September. It’s going to be much, much colder in about a month. By October it’ll be too cold to bear. Even if we all huddle together like penguins.”

Doux looked away to hide his blush at the suggestion. “That is a problem. Okay, um-”

“Maybe we could just cross that bridge when we get there? Who knows what could happen between now and then. We could find so temp work in a little town somewhere.” (Name) shrugged, smirking at Doux. She didn’t want to admit that ‘we could be dead by then’ was also definitely a possibility on the table, so she tried to further distract from that thought. “Maybe we’ll find a creepy abandoned cabin in the woods we can squat in. Maybe some nice trolls will take us in as novelty pets. Maybe my rich Aunty Josie could just suddenly die under some ‘mysterious circumstances’ and leave her lavish fortune to her beloved niece,” she smirked at Doux, “I dunno, just spit ballin’ here.”

“I’m electing to ignore that you just suggested we ice your aunt because you were onto something there.”

“I was?” Her tone was a mixture of sarcasm and disbelief.

“Yes! New Jersey!

“New Jersey?” The wheels turned. “Oh! New Jersey!”

Nari looked confused. “What is special about this ‘New Jersey’?” she asked

Both Douxie and (Name) turned to her, “Trolls.” They said in sync.

***

(Name) stood there with her hands in her pockets. Somehow this Kmart was still standing, out here in The-Middle-Of-Fucking-Nowhere, Missouri. She was standing here, in a Kmart. It might as well have been 1986. There was barely anything on the shelves. Half the shelves themselves were missing. The floor had a layer of grime to it, in spite of the wet floor sign along with the shiny patches that said that it had clearly been mopped recently. The air smelled like something (Name) couldn’t quite place, but it was nostalgic. A strange scent that took her back to her childhood. Or at least she thought it was her childhood. It had to have been. Taking deep breaths, she couldn’t quite get enough of it.

Continuing that vibe, a muzak 80’s tune played over the speakers. Funny enough, despite (Name)’s brain seeming to recognize that it was playing a song from the 80’s, she just couldn’t quite put her finger on it as to which. Every time she thought she’d figured it out, she’d hear a few notes that would somehow change her mind. It was a pop song at least, to narrow it down. It’d been going on for about six minutes now. Must be one of those extended tracks.

She’d ask Douxie what he thought the song was. She turned her attention to him and noticed he was still just staring at that same shelf like he had been for, what, ten minutes now? Even though this fucking Kmart barely had any shelving in it, by some miracle it not only had exactly what they were looking for but an entire aisle of them. How lucky was that.

Douxie was taking very careful consideration into this tent purchase. This was going to be their new home, after all. He just couldn’t decide which one was best. They all had fancy camping terms on the packages that meant nothing to him. He’d been trying to decipher the code. The secret outdoorsman code. Nari shifted uncomfortably in the basket.

“Hisirdoux, you should maybe, hurry this along?” She sounded strained.

But she was right. He should just pick one already. It’s all a gamble anyway. He decided on a dark green one that boasted a water-proof material. Good natural color, not easily spotted, and it wouldn’t soak through with rain. That should work well enough, he figured.

“I’ve hurried along. Sorry Nari.” He casually tossed the box into the cart next to her. She sniffed the box and nodded to him.

Now that they had their goal item, the quest party started for the checkouts. Douxie could have sworn that it had been on the side of the store they were in. They had passed it when they came in. Now it was completely across by the other door. Did he get turned around? Or maybe they did come in from that side of the store. He actually couldn’t remember.

As they walked, a few things caught (Name)’s eye. They passed a display of dark leafy plants in oddly shaped pots, a table stacked high with various books and a clearance sign, a knife case that had been left open, a candle display with a few that had already been lit and were dripping wax, a bargain bin of CDs, and lastly a sad box of no-longer-in-season pool noodles. There was a sale on bloodmeal apparently. Perfect for perking up those roses after the summer heat.

They arrived at the checkout after what felt like an endless journey. (Name) hadn’t noticed any other customers the entire time they had been there, and yet the line for the only check open had seven people in it. She grabbed a couple bags of red licorice from the impulse shelf to add to their cart while waiting.

Nari was really interested in that checker. (Name) took her in. The teen was taller than most and had very, very long blonde hair that cascaded down her back like a shiny golden waterfall. Her cheeks were slightly sunken in. Must be going through a diet phase. Poor girl.

The young woman was obviously not one for small talk. Name couldn’t blame her. Retail sucks. Her perfect red fingernails clicked against the keys of the register in a practiced beat. She turned around and told them their total in a bored monotone. As Douxie fiddled with his wallet and payed, (Name) found herself staring right into the cashier’s eyes. They were such a light icy blue, they were almost white. It was striking. (Name) was almost in a trance. It was broken as the cashier turned around swiftly to rip off the receipt off the machine, and, in an uncharacteristically cheery voice, told them to have a nice night. Night?

They returned the cart back to the stack, grabbing their one singular shopping bag and helping Nari out. Of course Nari could easily just jump out herself, but that wouldn’t be something a human child could do. They didn’t need to draw any unnecessary attention to themselves here. They made their way to the automatic sliding doors that lagged so that they didn’t open until you were standing right in front of them. This allowed Douxie time to catch a glimpse of the reflection in the glass. The reflection of the store was completely devoid of people. Not even the checker was at her station. He sucked in a breath. After walking through those first doors, he stopped. He took a moment to turn back. There she was, right where she should be, checking out another customer with three more in the line.

Douxie hurried along the doorway to catch up to (Name) and Nari. It was darker outside than he expected, and he was taken aback. He found them right outside the store, waiting for him. In one hand, (Name) was holding Nari’s, in the other, the plastic shopping bag. Her head was tipped up to the sky, transfixed by the moon. He came over, grabbing her shoulder as he pulled her along, in an attempt to urge her away from this place. She looked back at him, eyes wide with distress. He tried to convey that he understood with his eyes. All three of them instinctually knew not to say anything more why they were still in this parking lot.

It had barely been half past noon when they had started this little Kmart side quest. It was now at least seven by the looks of it. They had spent six and a half hours in a Kmart? How had they spent six and a half hours in a Kmart. There went their entire travel day. But no time to dwell on this, they needed to get back to Archie and the boat as soon as possible.

As they walked back towards the ship, (Name) and Douxie both took one of Nari’s hands so that she was in the middle, like how those couples walk with their children. The streetlights glared up at them in the slick pavement. Apparently, it had rained while they were in shopping limbo. Poor Arch. (Name) let out a puff of air.

“Well. That sure was something.”

Douxie nervously chuckled, “If we had stayed in there any longer, I think we might have died.” (Name) mirrored that nervous chuckle.

“Oh, no, dying would be much simpler than what would have happened to us.” Nari said sweetly, like what she was saying was somehow better. Nari liked being helpful. (Name) put on her best fake smile.

“Thank you, Nari.” She tried her best to sound as sincere as possible to spare the veggie lady’s feelings.

#douxie x reader #hisirdoux casperan x reader #douxie imagine #hisirdoux x reader #hisirdoux casperan #hisirdoux casperan imagine #douxie #toa douxie #toa wizards #my writing #the never ending roadtrip

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jungshookz · 5 years

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drabble where jimin is very clingy and friendly and y/n is really quiet and grouchy but warms up to jimin? oof pls or not its all cool ily and ur work sm

→ pairing: park jimin x reader

→ genre: nonidol!au, college!au, jimin is bending over baCKWArds for u, brownies are the solution to every problem

→ wordcount: 3k

→ note: thank u thank u!!!! i whipped this baby out in two hours because i got excited at the thought of grouchy y/n so if it’s a little choppy i apologize and ALSO i’m literally never getting over this gif of jimin

(gif isn’t mine!)

jimin didn’t think it was possible for someone to be moRe quiet and grouchy than yoongi

but here you are

y/n y/l/n

physical proof that it is indeed possible for someone to be more quiet and grouchy than yoongi

it really is no wonder as to why you and yoongi get along so well (he’ll never admit that he’s a lil bit jealous of that fact)

the only difference between u and yoongi is that yoongi actually likes him

and

he’s pretty sure you hate him which isn’t great

because jimin likes to be liked!!!!!!!! in fact he loVEs to be liked!!!!!! in fact HE WOULD KILL TO BE LIKED

teehee!

he’s most definitely a people person

you are not a people person

you don’t give a rat’s ass if someone doesn’t like you

that’s one less person to deal with biTch

you kinda just float around and do your own thing

you’re the complete opposite of jimin and usuaLLY he likes to stay away from people like you (no offence) ((and also yoongi is an exception))

..,.,so he can’t quite seem to figure out why he’s developed a teeny weeny little crush on you

“good morning, friends!” jimin chirps and plops down on the ground next to jungkook

you tilt your head up to roLL your eyes and resist the urge to get up and leave

“already?” yoongi snorts nudges your side with his elbow and you shrug in response before leaning back against your palms and crossing one ankle over the other

it’s not like you don’t like the guy

it’s just that you don’t like the guy

you don’t know what it is about him

maybe he’s too chipper for you

yeah

he talks too much

you fully support the notion that if there is a moment of silence it doesn’t always have to be filled up with bLabbing

silence is good

also he’s a try-hard

he seems to have a thing where he just neeDs evERyone to fall in love with him (which sounds exhausting to u)

evEryone who bumps into jimin immediately falls in love with him and you honestly?? don’t understand it

what’s so great about the guy?????

also his giggling is irritating and he does so much of it

not everything is funny

but to be fair you’re a pretty tough nut to crack

the last time you actually laughed was when jungkook tripped going up the stairs and his smoothie flew like ten feet up into the air and proceeded to splatter all over him ((you told him not to tell anyone this otherwise u would kick his ass but u ended up giving him your smoothie and u helped clean him up))

what else do you not like about jimin

the almost twinkly sound of his giggle

how helpful and kind and caring and thoughtful and generous he is to everyone

his pouty pillowy lips

his obviously dyed head of dirty blonde hair that always happens to be perfectly tousled and always looks so soft and silky and you would love to run your fingers through-

“y/n, you got any plans for the weekend?” jimin smiles brightly at you as he pulls his lunch out

you stare right back at him before raising an eyebrow and cocking your head to the side as if to say ‘do i fuckin look like i wanna tell u all about my weekend plans u nosy leech’

you shrug

jimin waits patiently for a response

and then it hits him that that was your response

taehyung clears his throat

“well if anyone wants to know about my weekend i’m going to go to this super cool flea market-“

“what do you have for lunch today, y/n? i-i have a sandwich! a turkey sandwich. do you like turkey sandwiches?” jimin tries again and taehyung lets out a quiet sigh before looking at the others like hEre we go again

“what’s not to like about a thin piece of meat in between two slices of white bread?” you respond cooly as you pluck at the grass

jimin buRsts into laughter before pointing a finger gun at you “good one! that was a good one!!”

jungkook winces and looks around to make sure no one else is observing this awkward exchange because yiKEs

“.,,.i don’t get the joke.” hoseok mumbles

jin shakes his head disappointedly “was that even a joke?? what was the punchline??”

namjoon presses his lips together before giving both jin and hobi a pat on the shoulder “.,.,.don’t worry bout it”

everyone knows about jimin’s crush on you

it’s not just limited to people in the group of course

everyone with working eyes knows about jimin’s crush on you

taehyung has tried many mAny times to tell jimin to just move on because it’s clear the romantic feelings aren’t being reciprocated and every time jimin opens his mouth to speak your eyes roll to the back of your head

you’re very nice once you warm up to someone and luckily taehyung has experienced that but he’s not sure if jimin is going to get the Nice Y/N package any time soon

he just doesn’t want jimin to get his heart broken that’s all

“i don’t get it. what am i doing wrong??” jimin groans loudly and taehyung huffs because it’s obvious they’re not going to get through this movie tonight

he lowers the volume on the television before turning to glance at the other boy (who is currently screaming into a pillow) ((which is very hard to ignore))

“i’m telling you, bro - just give up. give uP!!!!!” taehyung snatches the pillow from jimin

jimin immediately pushes his bottom lip out in a pout “but-“

“she doesn’t like you. she doesn’t liKE YOU”

“you don’t know that!!!!!!”

“jimin, come on! we’ve had this conversation like a hundred times and each time you say you’re going to get over her and then the next day you pull a ‘heY y/N do u like turkey SandWiches’ stunT and i swear you fall even more in love when she flicks hair over her shoulder and glares at you in response-“

“what the heLL are you two talking about so loudly?” tae and jimin both turn when yoongi makes his way down the stairs

he lets out a yawn before stretching his arms out “i’m taking a nap and it would be greatly appreciated if you’d just-“

“hyung, get over here and help me make jimin realise that y/n doesn’t like him!” taehyung whines

yoongi furrows his brows

“…why would i help you with that?”

tae gawks at him

“wha- why noT-“

“because y/n likes him. a lot.” yoongi states as if it’s the most obvious thing in the entire world

wait

what

jimin squAwks

“SHE WHAT-“

yoongi immediately winces

maybe it was a bad idea to tell him that

“wait wait wAIT how do you know- like, did she tell you that she liked m- should i text her?? call her?????” jimin fumbles around for his phone and taehyung snatches it from him before he can do anything

“calm down, romeo.” yoongi snorts before taking a seat on the sofa chair and grabbing the remote

“oh my god- he’s obviously fucking around with you, you dumbass.” taehyung scowls before glaring at yoongi “thanks a lot-“

“no, i’m serious!” yoongi raises his hands in defence “just don’t talk to her on monday and see what happens.”

“if i don’t talk to her then how will i-” jimin huffs and crosses his arms “whatever, tae’s right, you’re just fucking around with me-“

“no, i’m serious!!!!!” yoongi scoffs “don’t talk to her. see what happens.”

“don’t tell me you’re actually falling for this bullshit.” taehyung deadpans

he can see the gears click-click-clicking away in jimin’s little blonde head

jimin shifts in his spot and clears his throat “.,.it wouldn’t hurt to give it a try”

taehyung resists the urge to beat boTh jimin and yoongi to death with the throw pillow

monday rolls around pretty quickly

jimin is ready to taCKle the new week

but he’s also ready to tackle the new challenge of not talking to you and pretending as if you don’t exist

“good morning, everyone!” jimin greets brightly “how was your weekend…”

tae winces

o god

he’s already failed

“namjoon?”

huh

okay

smooth sailings so far

you look up from your phone immediately

your brows knit together in confusion

it’s not that you care or anything but like

usually you’re the first person he talks to after he sits down

whatever

it’s whatever

it’s not like you would’ve given him a good response anyway

“uh, it was alright! i didn’t do that much… how was your-“

“it was good! tae and i watched the new avengers movie which was super exciting!!” jimin pulls out his lunch and you spoT the familiar turkey sandwich

“oh hey!!! i watched that last week!! did you guys like it????”

you’re not really paying attention to the conversation between the guys

he threw in some lettuce and tomatoes today!

and you see some mustard peeking out

you clear your throat quietly and sit up a little straighter as if expecting jimin to ask whether you like lettuce and tomatoes and spicy mustard in your sandwiches to whiCH you will respond ‘what’s not to like about lettuce and tomatoes and spicy mustard in my sandwiches?’ and he will respond with his usual HAHAHAHA GOOD ONE Y/N

jimin takes a bite of his sandwich and turns to listen to namjoon rambling about the avengers while jin whines and begs him to noT spoil the whole damn thing for him

jimin takes another biG bite and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand

his cheeks resemble that of a chipmunk

it’s cute

wait what

no it’s not

it’s gross

yeaH it’s grOSS

“ooh, you know what else i did over the weekend? i made brownies!” jimin perks up before turning to rummage through his bag

okAY NOW he’s definitely going to talk to you because he knows you like brownies (he’s brought everyone brownies on several occasions and you’ve always accepted them with a grunt and a barely audible ‘thanks’) and you know for a fact he’s going to offer them to you fiRST >:-)

and you can’t wait because ur favourite piece is the middle piece and u and yoongi always fight over it (obviously u always get it because jimin undoubtedly plays favourites)

“yep! fresH, homemade brownies for everyone!” jimin tosses the brownies at everyone around the circle and your toes wiggle in your shoes in anTicipation

you’ve been craving something sweet all day

“ooh, sweEt i got the middle piece.” yoongi mutters under his breath and your head snaps to look at the brownie piece he just caught

wait a sec-

WAIT A SECOND

okay maybe there’s another middle piece for you

you wait patiently and even find yourself offering a meek little smile in jimin’s general direction (which he deFINitely noticed and will shamelessly admit that it made his heart skip a beat)

and then jimin just-

he zips up his backpack

but

where’s your piece???

you look around the circle and frown when you see everyone enjoying their brownies

“good brownie, jimin!” tae haMS it up after taking a bite

jungkook practically shoves the entire thing into his mouth like a maniac

meanwhile yoongi shoots jimin a subtle thumbs up before gesturing over to you

jimin’s eyes flicker over to you and you two lock gazes for a second before you’re flushing and looking down at the ground

you proceed to pluCK at the grass a little more aggressively than usual and jimin nEARLY coos when he notices your little pout

hook

line

and

sinker

but also he feels kind of bad because his intention wasn’t to make u sad

:((((

“see you guys later!”

“uGh i’m going to late for my history lecture - bye guys!!”

“thanks for the brownies, jimin!”

usually you just sliP away quietly when the end of lunch rolls around but uh

you can’t help but feel like there’s a tiny issue here

“see ya later, loserrrr” yoongi gives your arm a little punch and you scowl before swatting at his hand

and then there were two

you turn to glance over your shoulder to see jimin packing his lunch bag up quietly

a part of you wants to just pretend this lunch didn’t even happen and just spRInt off the field as quickly as possible

and the other part of you-

“hey.”

“oh. hey!” jimin smiles politely and swings his backpack over his shoulder before pointing behind you “my next class is in the maple building so i- woAH”

needless to say jimin is very much surprised when you grab his wrist and yank him over so that that the two of you are standing directly under the oak tree

“how come i-“ you clear your throat before diverting your gaze to the ground

hUH

usually jimin is the one diverting his gaze

interESting

“-ʰᵒʷ ᶜᵒᵐᵉ ᶦ ᵈᶦᵈⁿ’ᵗ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵃ ᵇʳᵒʷⁿᶦᵉ ᵗᵒᵈᵃʸ”

“how come you didn’t get a brownie today?” jimin repeats “is that it? you just wanted a brownie?”

“well i- i don’t…“

“look, y/n, i actually have a class to get to, so if the brownie is all you’re wanting, i can just bake a new batch tonight and bring you one tomorrow.”

the apples of your cheeks go bright pink

“it’s not just the brownies…”

“then what is it?”

goD

you hate this

your brows knit together in frustration before you look up at jimin with a little glare

“today, you didn’t… talk to me…. at all, and you didn’t…. ask me about my weekend,” you stumble a little over your words because this is a verY unfamiliar situation and you honestly don’t know what you want out of your soon-to-be ramble is but pOp off i guess “-a-and today you had tomatoes and lettuce and mustard in your sandwich and you didn’t ask me if i liked tomatoes and lettuce and mustard in my sandwiches because i would’ve replied with ‘what’s not to like about tomatoes and lettuce and mustard in my sandwiches?’ and then you would do your usual stupid dorky finger gun thing-“

you can’t seem to stop the straight up word vomit just floWing out of your mouth and you haven’t even noticed that you’ve taken a teeny step closer to jimin and he has done exaCtly the same

“and you always give mE a brownie first when you bring ‘em but i-i didn’t get one and not to mention you gave yoongi the middle piece but you already know that the middle piece is mY favourite- mMpH-!”

your brain immediately shuts down when jimin tugs you in and leans down to plant his lips against yours

and as cheesy as it is

time stands still

it almost feels like your soul floated out of your body

like you’re floating in space

this is.,., nice

his lips are awfully soft

and he smells good too

,.,.wait a second

jimin’s kissing you

you’re kissing jimin

YOU GUYS ARE KISSING

you don’t get a chaNce to react before jimin pulls away

he giggles softly when you chase after his lips but soon enough you snap out of your little daze and stumble backwards a little

whAT FHE TUCK

what is going on

what the heCK is going on

“you- i- we-“ you stammer and blink wiLdly at jimin

“we?” jimin tilts his head and smiles innocently “oh, by the way-“ he takes his backpack off one shoulder and digs through it

he holds out a neatly wrapped square “of course i brought a brownie for you. this batch was extra big so there were two middle pieces.”

you take it from him cautiously before unwrapping it

yep

that’s a middle piece alright

the corner of your mouth twitches in a tiny smile before you let out a huff and whiP around to start trudging down the grassy hill

jimin’s shoulders droop in disappointment

shit

maybe yoongi did set him up

oh god

and he kissed you too

that was wAY too bold of a move

now you’re definitely never going to talk to him again

FRicK

but it wasn’t his fault!!!!!! he thought that-

“oi! you coming?” jimin’s eyes widen when he sees you standing at the bottom of the hill with a hand on your hip “i’m not getting any younger here!!” you turn around and continue the trek off the field

jimin grins widely and pulls his backpack back on

he catches up to you in no time and his heart soArs when you clutch his hand in yours

“does this mean you’ll finally answer me when i ask you how your weekend was?”

“absolutely not.”

help me help you make your wishes come tru (aka send me a request)

drabble tag

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ks-caster · 4 years

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Sometimes the Simplest Solution (Part 3)

Start || Previous

Navy SEALs didn’t do much insurgency, but between her what had been in her training and what she’d picked up from her rebel followers over the years, she knew the basics. The short and simple version? People don’t tend to question those who walk with confidence and purpose - particularly when those people were tired, hungry teenagers. She strolled into the encampment, breathing evenly, thumbs in her pockets and beanie pulled low over her forehead.

The kids had been here long enough to set up tents and repair them where they’d torn or fallen. The fire pits were ringed with large stones, and soot-stained from use; wood was stacked nearby, the meadow plants starting to grow up around the piles.

The camp was dominated by the ship, which was full of hammocks, backpacks and various accoutrements of life. Kids were migrating inside as the wind whipped up - she wondered distractedly if the storm was regular weather or something caused by their arrival in the anomaly. Octavia’s shoes were just disappearing up a central ladder. With an inaudible sigh at the thought of hauling her pregnant belly up however many floors, Diyoza followed.

-0-

The knife dropped from Octavia’s nerveless fingers as Clarke pulled the tiny bottle from her hands, uncorking it and pouring a little bit into her mouth, before turning to - presumably - rush the rest down to Finn.

She was blocked, however, by the most unlikely of obstacles. Halfway up the ladder, her upper body sticking out the entrance, a look of mild surprise, disgust and something else Octavia couldn’t place on her face, stood a middle-aged blonde woman that she’d never seen before. Not that that meant much - there were plenty of adults she didn’t know; nearly all of them in fact. But there hadn’t been any strange adults on the drop ship - she’d been the first one out the door, and had watched with interest as her fellow delinquents had flooded out into their new environment. She didn’t know everyone’s names - but she did know everyone’s faces. This wasn’t one of them.

Just when the thought solidified that the stranger must be another grounder - a friend of this man who they’d strung up and tortured, here to rescue him - the woman opened her mouth and spoke in perfect English.

“What,” she demanded, “the fuck did I just witness.”

-0-

The glow was gone from the forest. Octavia found that she missed it so much more than she had last night when she’d been alone out here. Tonight she was unwillingly sandwiched between Bellamy and Fox, walking behind the Grounder, who was tied and being escorted at knifepoint by Miller.

She’d tried to edge up and walk next to him, for solidarity or to catch him if he bled too hard and fell she didn’t know. Bellamy had wrapped a hand around her arm so tightly that his shaking, still bloody hand had made her whole body tremble, and she’d slowed obediently, not sure if she was scared of him or for him. He looked sick to his stomach - cold sweat, hollow cheeks, his whole body deflated. They both knew he’d crossed a line he couldn’t uncross.

The woman - Diyoza - walked in front, apparently unbothered by the supposedly dangerous man and his teenage guards behind her. Mbege, Monty, Jasper, Harper and Raven were grouped behind them - Clarke had been dosing up Finn with the antidote as they left, and Raven had looked from them to her hands, and then wordlessly followed the group into the forest.

How many of them believed that Diyoza was a time traveler wasn’t something Octavia could guess - but when she’d said that she could prove it if they were willing to take a short hike, she’d loudly agreed to follow her. No matter what dangers lay out in the forest, right now she wanted to be anywhere other than in this camp.

Bellamy had opposed - obviously. Diyoza had asked slyly if he intended to hide in his tent for the rest of his life. Jasper had said he’d go if Octavia was going, Monty had signed up as well. Clarke had shaken her head and slid down the ladder with the antidote, clearly deciding that Diyoza wasn’t enough of a threat to risk another seizure.

It was Miller who suggested bringing the grounder as a hostage. Once that idea was out there, Bellamy and Octavia had both agreed - Bellamy probably because he could prove to himself that he wasn’t scared (either of what he’d done or of their hostile neighbors) and Octavia because it occurred to her that she could get a chance to let him escape. Harper and Mbege had opposed, Raven and Fox had supported. The grounder still hadn’t said anything, but she noticed the way his eyes trained first on the woman’s obvious pregnancy once she climbed all the way up, and then on a particular bulge at her thigh. She had a gun.

In the end, it might have been curiosity that made up their minds - they were teenagers at the end of the day - or it might have been that Diyoza was the first adult any of them had seen in days, she had a calm, frank way of speaking, and they’d just tortured someone, and wanted to go back to being kids for a minute.

The forest was glowing ahead - a soft green light flickering through the trees in the distance, and Octavia had never felt more at home in her life. She sped up again, dodging Bellamy’s hand this time, just wanting to get into the light, and let the forest feel familiar again.

She burst into the clearing shoulder to shoulder with Diyoza - hundreds of glowing butterflies in different colors had swarmed on the trees, on the ground, on the strange man in the long coat scribbling furiously in a heavy journal, on -

Bellamy’s hands were on her shoulders and he was saying something, probably angrily, might have even been important, but she couldn’t hear him. For a long moment she couldn’t make sense of words. She hadn’t thought the woman was a real time traveler - not really, not until this exact moment. Every time a butterfly flew between her and her own face where it was suspended in the green ball of light, she half thought the image would change.

“Octavia?” Harper was asking, her head swiveling between the Octavia standing and the Octavia levitating. Reality snapped back and she heard Bellamy’s lectura about running off in the back of her mind. He trailed off too as he caught up with the situation, his jaw dropping slightly.

“Octavia Blake,” Diyoza said quietly, “meet your future self.”

Next up on SSS: “And we are well-met”

#the 100 fanfic #the 100 #the 100 season 6 #the 100 fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #beth's writing #sss fic #octavia blake #Octavia #diyoza #charmaine diyoza #gabriel #gabriel santiago #bellamy #lincoln kom trikru #monty #harper #raven

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raz-b-rose · 4 years

Text

Not in Duckburg Anymore Chapter 1: The Beginning Woo Ooh

A03

“Don’t touch anything! You can’t replace the effort that went into building anything in here” Dr. Gearloose snaps out, reluctantly leading the young ducks around his lab.

Louie rolls his eyes, clearly Dr. Gearloose doesn’t understand that by saying such a thing to two of the four ducks present it sounded like a challenge and not a threat. Well, Webby might touch something without thinking, however himself or Dewey would most certainly do it on purpose. Huey had already smacked Deweys hand as he tried to grab a raygun looking device off a shelf. He really should put things like that out of reach.

Scrooge had felt that with the four of them graduating in a few months, they needed <em>'more real world experience to help them decide what they would like to achieve after school'.<em>

Louie only scowled at the shelves of half completed projects and strewn about ideas. What had Gearloose accomplished in his life? Proving that certain ideas wouldn't work? That failure leads to opportunity? Louie wasn't quite sure what Uncle Scrooge wanted them to learn here, but that's what he would say when he asked.

He knows that Scrooge desires for him to start taking over the company, especially as he's grown and started to outgrow his boyhood self. Hard work was still an unlikable prospect of life, but he had seen what the opposite had done to those like Uncle Gladstone. However he still didn't want to be on the other end of the spectrum like Scrooge or Huey.

A simple content life with those he loved was all he asked for. Maybe he could do accounting work on the side? Clearly he was still going to adventure with his brothers and Webby. He was pulled from his musings, taking some larger and quickened steps to catch back up to the others, Gearloose mid rant about who knows what.

Louie glanced at Huey who looked like he was trying to soak it all in. Over the years, lab work just wasn't his thing. He enjoyed reading research papers and knowing how things worked, but he wasn't one to sit down and do the research. Louie thinks that after all the years of casual adventures, Huey needed something more active than sitting at a desk all day. Something Louie really wouldn't mind doing. He wasn't quite sure what Huey wanted to do.

Now Dewey on the other hand, was a no brainer. He was obviously going to continue adventuring and with Webby by his side. They continued to tiptoe around the subject, but Louie and Huey knew that those two desired nothing more than to be together forever. It was honestly getting tiring watching the two of them.

Even now they walk next to each other in a way that has their hands brushing against the others, not making a move in either direction. Webby chatted excitedly with Dewey who had a love sick, sappy, smile etched on his face. They were made for each other. It made Louie want to scream.

He must have made a sound, because Huey glanced back at him, a silent question in his gaze. Louie nods towards the love ducks, making a disgusted face. Huey laughs softly, nodding in agreement.

"And this here is the Transdementional mirror that we have been working on for the last two years." Gearloose drones out, clearly bored with this mini tour.

“Wow so you’re saying that this mirror lets you look at different dimensions?” Dewey and Huey speak at the same time, however with differing tones of excitement.

“Yes, however it's highly unstable, and is still in the testing stages.” Dr. Gearloose replies with a condescending tone.

“Unstable?” Webby asks, glancing at the mirror before taking a step back.

“Well, sometimes it sucks things in and we still aren’t quite sure where they end up.”

They all quickly distance themselves from the mirror. Louie feels extreme apprehension being anywhere near Gearloose’s equipment now. He glances around the room, wondering what else could potentially endanger them. now that he thinks about it, why did he continue to trust Gearloose? First Little Bulb then the Time Tub, he should really have learned his lesson by now.

“Oh don’t behave as though you’re in danger,” Gearloose rolls his eyes, “You’re uncle would never allow you in here if you were in danger.” The kids disagree. Scrooge probably doesn’t know about half the stuff in this lab. He starts to fiddle with the buttons on the mirror, grumbling and mumbling to himself. “It’s never sucked in organic matter before, stupid children.”

“Well this was fun, I’m going over to Fentons space.” Huey starts leading the rest, clearly trying to get away from the mirror as quickly as possible. They all exchanged varying looks of concern and amazement at the man that was Gyro Gearloose. Louie also wanted to get away from the crazy doctor who only increased in his angry musings. They neared the end of the row of the shelf, when everything went downhill.

They all jumped as a gust of wind appeared in the lab, pushing them around. They look back to see the mirror had activated, Dr. Gearloose standing proudly beside it.

“See children, totally safe.”

Louie didn’t hear him however as he started to get pulled by the wind across the floor. He looked at his feet in horror, quickly trying to gain traction to get away from the portal. He started to scream, and he could hear Webby screaming as well. He reached out for one of his brothers with one hand and a shelf with the other.

Huey’s grip tightened around his hand, pulling with all his might. The wind grew stronger, and Louie swore for just a moment, both his feet left the ground.

“Webby!” Dewey shouted. Louie glanced over to her, watching in horror as her fingers lost their grip on Deweys shirt. She was pulled up into the air, flying backwards quickly towards the portal.

"Dewey!" She screamed, desperately reaching for him.

“Webby!” Louie and Huey shouted again, all of them reaching for her. Dewey dropped Huey’s hand, running towards her.

“Dewey!” They shout, now also running to catch their brother. Gearloose was angrily pushing buttons and smacking the machine. He even tried to turn it away from them, only for it to be yanked from his hands, swinging back around. As it swung back around, he got pulled in without warning. Everyone's screaming increased tenfold.

Huey managed to get a grip on Dewey’s foot, head shooting around for any kind of solution. Louie switched his grip from his hand to his middle, hugging him tightly. Huey needed at least one hand to get them out of this mess. Dewey was still struggling trying to grab hold of Webby. Her screams for help grew louder as she gained distance from the boys.

Wait.

Louie felt panic as he realized that they were getting closer to her, and quickly. Huey managed to yank Dewey down, hugging him close to his body, eyes shut tight. Louie realized too late that Huey hadn’t been able to get a hold on anything else. His grip tightened around his brothers as they got lifted into the air.

Louie will never trust anything this man makes again.

Louie screamed as he fell through the portal, screaming louder as ground rushed to meet his face. Using his arms he took the impact head on. His arms ached, but at least his face wasn’t bashed in. He sat up slowly, taking in his surroundings. He was in a pine forest, the distant call of some creature filling the silence. He could feel his heart pounding.

Louie tried to calm down, his lungs laboring to provide him with the air he so desperately needed. Thank goodness the air seemed breathable. He squinted into what he hoped was sunlight. The sound of something moving in the foliage right behind him jolts him into action, spinning around to face the threat. He started screaming again.

Behind him were two monsters. Both had what looked like white hair, and smooth pale skin. They were wearing clothes, and shoes. Their faces were flat with small narrow eyes. They also had what he could only compare to dog ears on the side of their heads. He screamed louder when they started to scream back.

“Huey! Dewey!” He called for them, close to tears. He backed away quickly. One of the creatures stopped screaming, looking at him with a hopeful expression.

“Louie?” It asked, slowly standing up.

“Huey?” His heart hammered in his chest. “What?”

“Guys?” They look over at the other creature, who is now standing, arms crossed over his body. It sounded just like Dewey. He looked down at his own hands, whimpering as he was also featherless and in a weird body. He looked at Huey, trying not to grimace at his appearance. Then he actually started to cry. 17 years old and he still cried when scared. How pathetic.

Huey was quick to grab hold of him again, pulling him close. It was comforting but not the same. His chest was harder and his arms felt weird around him. Whatever they were, it was all very strange and felt kinda gross and he really wanted to go home.

Dewey joined the hug, surrounding Louie in a brother sandwich, slowly his cries turned to shuddering breaths. He looks around their surroundings again. Nothing has changed, but it also felt so familiar to the woods surrounding the manor.

“Ok,” Huey stands, pulling his brothers up with him. “We went through Gearloose’s stupid mirror. We are in a different dimension, with different bodies.” He started to pace. “How different is this dimension, and how do we get home?”

Louie took the time to take in their new appearances while Huey focused his thoughts. Huey was wearing a red flannel shirt and jeans, not his signature ball cap, but a ball cap nonetheless on his head and sneakers in his feet. Dewey figited beside him. He had a grey beanie on his head that matched his cargo pants and shoes. He had a thick blue jacket over a tshirt. Louie glanced at himself, relieved at the familiar comfort of a hoodie, however this one was green with grey sleeves, and his shorts were a soft material as well. He sneered in distaste at the blackboots in his own feet.

“Where’s Webby?” Dewey shouts out, cutting off Huey. "Webby!" He shouts, cupping his hands around his mouth. Huey and himself also jump into action.

They all start to search the immediate area, calling for her. After a few minutes they call off the search, regrouping back where they started. Louie watched Dewey as he fell into a panic attack.

“What if she didn’t end up here but somewhere else?” Dewey grips his head, eyes wide. His breathing picked up and his eyes became unfocused.

“She’s all alone,” Huey whispers. Louie could tell he felt guilty at being thankful that he had the two of them with him, and that he was in fact not alone. He knew because he felt it too.

Instead of looking around upwards this time, he looks further out into the distance. Was there civilization around here or were they going to have to survive in the wilderness. Wait, what was the preferable action. Living in the woods alone, or hoping that the people who lived around here wouldn’t kill them on site.

“We should start looking for shelter-”

"We have to find Webby!" Dewey snaps.

"Dewey calm down"

"How can I, knowing that she's alone somewhere and I need to find her" Dewey is breathing heavy now, clenching and unclenching his fists repeatedly.

Louie stepped forward, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Dewey, this is Webby we're talking about. She can handle herself."

"Yea Dewey, I don't want her to be alone but one thing we know right now is that she is resilient and brave. She will be fine"

Dewey looks pained at having to admit defeat. He says, glaring at the ground for a moment.

"Let's start walking and see what we can find, looks like it's morning here so let's try to get as many hours in as we can" Huey gives Dewey a side hug, “Learn what we can so we can find so we can find Webby”

Dewey led the way, marching through the bushes and logs. He would call out for Webby every few minutes, the boys staying quiet also hoping to hear a response back. Louie buried his hands in his pockets, kicking rocks every now and then. Huey marked trees as they went, using a sharp rock he had found back in the first clearing.

Louie lifts his hands frowning as he touches his mouth. It was flush to his face and disconnected from what he figured was his nose. His nose is small and pointed and weirdly flexible, though the more he messed with it the more it started to hurt. He drops his hands back into his pockets. He missed his bill.

They walked until the sun, they had elected to call it that until they learned otherwise, had risen high into the sky. It casted deep shadows over the trees, giving off a comforting and foreboding vibe at the same time. He missed the woods in Duckburg.

They used to go camping in them all the time, allowed to stay up late into the evening to stargaze. They would have campfires with hotdogs and smores. Uncle Donald would tell them amazing stories about great adventures and their daring quests. It wasn’t until Mom started telling them similar stories the triplets made the connection. Louie stopped all thoughts of family left behind. Best not to focus on that right now.

They walk for a few more hours of walking and the trees start to thin out. The sun had risen higher into the sky, warming him slightly. Thankfully the tree’s offered a good amount of shade. When they finally reached the edge of the woods they were met with what looked like any other kind of town. Everything looked the same, if it weren’t for the strange creatures walking around, the boys would never have known the difference.

They look at a diner at the edge of the forest, watching as creatures came and went from the building shaped like a log on what looked like an old train car platform. The smell of food that waffered through the windows reminded the boys how long it has been since they last ate.

“Do you think the food will be safe to eat?” Dewey whimpers, drool practically dripping from his mouth.

“There is only one way to find out.” Louie stands slowly, taking a deep breath before walking with the false confidence that he has spent years perfecting.

“Louie, wait” Huey hissed out, but barely tried to stop his brothers from leaving the treeline. He’s quick to catch up, Dewey already at his side, using that age old Dewey energy. He could tell he was still worried about Webby, but was trying to suppress it.

It wasn't until Louie's hand touched the door handle that he realized they probably had no money. A quick check of his pockets confirmed his suspicion. He looked at his brothers, hoping that just maybe they had something. They also had no such luck.

Louie decided to enter anyway. They could try to get some answers. The smell of pancakes, eggs, and coffee filled the space. Louie felt a little more relaxed at the familiar smells. It seemed that despite the appearance of the beings here, everything functions just as they did back in Duckburg.

A few of the beings stopped to glance at them but that was it. The air was quiet and calming. They hadn't made it more than a few feet into the restaurant before one of the things stepped in front of them. They froze, staring in terror as it seemed to size them up.

It has long wavy brown hair, with matching brown eyes. She, he thinks it's a she, wore many bright colors and layered clothing. Her face was also covered in color and-were those stickers?

"Please tell me you are not related to Gideon"

"Who's Gideon?" Huey can't help but ask.

"What is Gideon?" He asks, thankful that they seem to be speaking the as language.

"Yes. What is a Gideon?" Dewey repeats the question.

"A monster!" She screeched. They jump, quickly huddling into a tight group. They should get out of here, this was a bad idea.

"Mabel, stop scaring the tourists" another one walked upside her. He looked similar with shorter wavy brown hair and wore more simple clothing. A longer sleeved t-shirt with a vest and shorts.

"Sorry about her, and Gideon is human, not a monster." Ah so these things were called humans. Interesting. He didn't like humans so far. He eyes the Mabel girl as she continues to look at them with wide eyes.

"So you're not related to Gideon? Mabel asked again, looking very excited by the news. They all quickly shake their heads, eyeing her. “Thank goodness,” She seems to bat her eyelashes at Dewey, giggling. The other one only rolls his eyes at her, grabbing her by the back of her sweater and dragging her back to a booth.

“Common, sit with us” She invites, taking hold of Dewey’s jacket, pulling him forward. He stumbles a little, eyes begging for help as he’s pulled down next to her. Louie only grins, sliding in across from them. They needed this wonderfully presented opportunity for information gathering.

“So what brings you to Gravity Falls?” The boy asks, waving over one of the waitresses. Huey turns to deal with her leaving, Louie to answer the question. Louie has done more on less, and winging it is what he’s best at. He overheard him apologizing for their lack of money. Dipper and Mabel start eating from their shared plate of fries. He tried to ignore the cramping in his stomach.

“We were camping with our Uncles employee and a friend and we kinda got separated. He sprung the trip on us and we have no clue where we are.” Louie calmly replies, Dewey and Huey sending him a subtle thumbs up.

“Oh really?”

“Yup. Don’t like the guy so I guess you could say we were basically kidnapped.” Louie deadpans, letting some of his very real frustration at the situation bleed through. The two share a look, clearly having a silent conversation. Mabel makes a pointed look at Dewey and gesturing her head at the other two. The boy however glares at her, shaking his head, making an aggressive gesture with his hand.

“You could stay with us until you meet back up with them” Mabel uses her hand to push his face away, muffling his protests.

“Grunkle Stan-”

“Can’t win against me” She makes what Louie thinks is supposed to be a cute pouty face. Similar to the ones Webby would use against them to get things she wanted. The boy scowls, crossing his arms.

“You have to be the one to make the argument, I’m not helping you”

“Fine by me” She sings, poking his nose with her finger. Dewey had used their conversation to move to the other side of the booth, giving Mabel an awkward smile when she noticed.

“Well seems like you’re staying with us tonight” Dipper sighs, “Names Dipper and this is my sister Mabel”

“Louie and my brothers Huey and Dewey” They wave to the siblings across the table.

“Cute matching names!”

“I guess” They each shrug in unison. Mabel squeals, shaking her brother around like a rag doll.

“Oh you guys are so cool”

“Cool?”

“Yea, Dipps and I haven’t done that whole twin melding thing in years,” she wiggles her fingers around her head, “and you guys can still do that” She seems almost wistful at the end of her rant.

“We are all individuals, thank you very much” Louie cringes inside when they all speak in perfect unison, again. Everytime they try to defend their individuality to strangers this happens.

“Not again…” They again speak in unison. Even Dipper laughs at them, leaving the triplets to resign to their fate.

Louie blinks as a plate of pancakes are placed in front of him, he and his brothers looking at the waitress that brought them over. She smiles kindly. “Couldn’t help but overhear your conversation. Can’t let you kids go hungry. Eat up”

They each stared at the woman in shock, then the twins who smiled back. Dewey was quick to dig in, Huey offered his thanks, and Louie tentatively took a bite. It tasted good. Not as good as Mrs. B’s but good. He eyed the twins while he ate. They joked around and were very friendly enough. Maybe Humans weren't so bad after all.

#notinduckburganymore #chapter one #ducktales 2017 #gravity falls

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taterztots · 4 years

Text

wip - last modifed 5/17/18. - part 2

”well, now that you mention it, a tuna sandwich doesn't sound that bad right now. I'm starving!”

...

When Jackie asked the white cat he had just rescued from a dirty alley and had considerably brought back with him to his apartment, if he would like some of the canned tuna he had in his pantry, he wasn't really expecting an answer. I mean, why would he? It was a cat!

But here they were now, Jackie, clutching to the cabinet door as if his life depended on it, and the cat, sitting on top of the counter with a mischievous grin on his face.

” I'm... Excu... What?”

”Well, beggars can't be choosers, right? That’s how that saying goes, isn't it? Something or other, I don't know. Oh, the name’s Marvin by the way! Thanks for helping me back there ..not that I really needed it, I could've done it myself you know... Hey, are you ok?”

Jackie had turned by then, in the middle of the rambling he had removed himself from the clutches of his fears, ready to face this, talking cat!

Except what he found there, swinging his legs happily over the counter as he talked, was definitely not a cat.

At least half his face still looked like a cat, but that was clearly a mask now. A cat mask on an obviously human face.

” who... What are you?!”

The man grins, ”I told you already, I'm Marvin! Marvin, the Magnificent!” and he quickly adds, ”I'm a magician”

Jackie scoffs

”Hey, don't be rude!”

”I..” and he scoffs again, ”I'm not being rude, you’re being rude! You were a cat! I brought you into my home, I...” realization hits him then, wide eyes filled with panic, ”I took my mask off in front of you”

”Hey, it’s fine, I swear” but Jackie is breathing hard, looking frantic as he claws at his chest.

Marvin jumps from the counter, hands outstretched in front of him as he takes measured steps towards the panicking hero, ”Jackieboy, breath, alright, it’s fine I promise, I won't tell anyone” he tries to reassure but Jackie shakes his head backing further away from him. Well, he certainly fucked this meeting up, didn't he?

”hey, I know, here, I’ll take my mask off also, then you can know what I look like too and we’ll be even, alright?”

He doesn't wait for an answer, already pushing the mask up to reveal his face before he even finishes his sentence.

And he realizes his mistake then as he watches Jackie’s eyes roll back and his knees buckle, managing to catch him before he hit the floor and hurt himself.

”well Marv, you certainly aren't the smartest of the bunch, now are you?” he scolds himself as he dragged the unconscious hero out of the kitchen, to the couch a few feet away. ”You couldn't have waited for the guy to calm down before you showed him his own face?! Like, my fucking god, you idiot, he was having a fucking panic attack because he showed you his face and your brilliant solution is to be like oh hey no worries we basically have the same face anyway so it doesn't matter, there’s actually like 5 others too, probably more-”

”hnn”

”oh! Hey! You're awake! How are you feeling? No, don't move! Be careful!”

”Mar?” his voice is rough, and his head is pounding but he does what the magician tells him, giving up on trying to sit up.

”Yeah, what is it? Do you need water? Want me to get you a pillow? Some aspirin-”

”you talk a lot”

”yeah, I know, it’s a problem, I do it when I'm nervous” that’s all he says then, and Jackie shoots him a reassuring smile, watching him with one eye open.

”I'm sorry for freaking out over my mask, it was stupid of me”

”Hey, come on, no it wasn't” Marvin reached up to touch his own mask, ”I know what it’s like, to want to hide, to protect yourself, or... I'm guessing in your place, to protect others? Your family?”

”yeah”

”you’re not freaking out about our face anymore, is that alright? Should I worry? I'm an idiot, I'm sorry I should have explained myself before just peeling off the mask”.

#long post #my writing #wip #part 2 of 2

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honeypiehotchner · 5 years

Text

Trust -- fifteen

Sherlock Holmes fancies you.

It’s taken you longer than you’d like to admit to come to this conclusion, but once you did, sitting there in the middle of a game of Cluedo, it was like the skies opened up. Not because you you’re going to act on it now – well, maybe, but you haven’t decided; he is fun to mess with, though – but because all of his little actions make sense.

How…gentle he is toward you. Yes, the two of you have your arguments, but they are never real. They are always playful, teasing, both of you trying to get a rise out of the other – and it works. But you knew when he picked you up and carried you to the cab, and when he put you in his bed – you knew that day that something was different. It was just put on the back burner because of obvious reasons.

You were trying to write it off as something else, of course. Because he’s Sherlock Holmes, he doesn’t have friends, so why would a man like him have a crush? But one thing you kept forgetting to remind yourself is that underneath all of that, Sherlock Holmes is still very much a human being. And the chemistry of a crush is extremely telling.

Like his dilated pupils.

When he saw you yesterday morning– afternoon with only the jumper covering your body, his pupils dilated. You wrote it off as his eyes widening, because who wouldn’t be shocked by a woman opening her door in only her jumper? But it was there. There is no denying it.

Especially not when you saw it again, when he looked at you while playing Cluedo. There was a hint of a smile there when he explained something to you, but it was all in the eyes. It’s always in the eyes.

That is why Molly’s accusation comes as such a surprise to you.

“Do you fancy him?”

Your sandwich stops halfway to your mouth as you give her a strange look. “Who?”

“Sherlock,” she replies, like it’s painfully obvious, then lowers her voice to say, “I think he fancies you.”

You place your sandwich down in front of you, smirking. “What makes you say that?”

She shrugs. “He talks about you differently.”

“He talks about me?” You raise an eyebrow. Consider this research. This is yet another thing to add on to the growing list.

“Well, I asked him about you.” Maybe not, then. “I asked where you were. Because he was experimenting for your case. And because he’s normally with you.”

You ignore the last comment. “My case?”

“The one with Tony and Allen?”

“Oh, right,” you chuckle. Hearing their names sometimes still hurts. “But no, uh, I don’t fancy him.”

Molly smirks. “He said the same thing.”

“What about you?” You ask, switching things around. You noticed the ring on her hand, but you want her to be the one to tell you. “Anyone in your life?”

“His name is Tom,” she smiles, then holding up her left hand. “And we’re…”

“Engaged!” You grin. Bloody hell, everyone is getting engaged. Do people not have anything better to do with their lives? “It’s so pretty!”

“He’s really sweet,” she begins to gush, and you let her. “He’s got a dog, and we go to the pub on the weekends and I’ve met all his friends and family.”

“That’s lovely,” you smile softly. “I’m happy for you.” You feel like you say that too often. You’re happy for someone else. Does there ever come a time when you’re happy for yourself?

“Thank you,” she chuckles. “So, if you don’t have anyone in mind…what’s your type?”

“My type?”

“Yeah, who do you like?”

“I don’t really have a type,” you laugh awkwardly, picking through your bag of crisps. “The realest relationship I’ve had wasn’t technically a relationship…we never labeled it. And he’s— It was with Tony.”

“Oh. Oh, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you shake your head, not wanting her pity. You’ve had enough pity the past few weeks to last a lifetime. “In the past. But I’m not really cut out for the whole relationship thing, so. It’s fine.”

She gives you a look, and you almost want to ask her what it’s about, but you decide against it, returning to your lunch.

~~~

You fancy Sherlock Holmes.

It’s the only possible solution, he thinks to himself. As of right now, he only has subtle evidence at best, but your pupils dilating during Cluedo, now that was telling. He hasn’t been close enough to you to feel your heartbeat, but he thinks he will try to do that as soon as possible.

But “as soon as possible” is rather hard for Sherlock to accomplish with how secretive you’ve been the past week. You’re sleeping in until noon – which he supposes is a good thing because you do need your sleep, but you are retiring to your flat before eleven almost every night. John doesn’t worry about this because he just assumes you’re getting well-rested for a change, but Sherlock senses something different. Something that comes about because you’ve also been having lunch with Molly an awful lot. Not to mention the few days when Mary has visited, and you’ve practically been attached to her at the hip as well.

So when Sherlock hears a creak down in your flat – unmistakable, really – he practically flies to the window to look out. With narrowed eyes, Sherlock watches you disappear down the sidewalk, glancing over your shoulder only once, but not up at the window where he stands.

Interesting.

He could follow you. That would be the easiest solution, but then again, nothing about you has ever been easy to him. He might as well presume this is the same.

Instead, he grabs his lock picking kit from his room, and ventures down to your flat. Quickly opening your door, he sees the source of the creak he heard earlier.

Your window. It’s cracked open and left unlocked.

Now, Sherlock could sit here and wait for you to return, or he could do what he does best, and try to get a rise out of you.

With a small smirk, he closes your window and flicks the lock, making sure it’s secure before he leaves your flat the way he came, also being sure to lock the door behind him.

He pockets the kit and skips up the stairs to make a cup of tea.

And then he waits.

~~~

You curse loudly as you check the time on your watch. You’re smart enough by now to know not to take your phone with you when you’re going somewhere you don’t want your brother to find out about – for example, the drug den. You aren’t even sure where you heard it called that, but you’re sure that’s what John would call it, knowing him.

Sprinting as fast as you can through the streets, rounding the corner to Baker Street. John will be leaving for work soon – wait, does he even have a shift today? There’s no time for you to contemplate that. It’s best to just always assume he has a shift.

You smile in relief upon seeing the window of your flat. You’re home free in just a few seconds.

Or so you think.

Your face falls when the window doesn’t budge. You swore you left it open like you always do. Cracked just enough, almost locked, so that you can still weasel your way back inside. But this time, you examine the lock, and it’s fully locked. Completely. You don’t even have anything with you to open it.

You step down off the crate, ignoring the shakiness in your legs as your mind starts thinking. You don’t have your keys with you, so how the hell is this going to look? Knocking on the front door, very obviously looking like you’ve just come back from getting high – because you have – asking to be let back inside?

Then it dawns on you.

Who is the one person who would know where you’d been? Who would catch on to your little late-night behaviors quicker than anyone else?

The answer is obvious.

And he opens the door after you knock only one time.

“Don’t tell John.”

Sherlock raises his eyebrows. “I haven’t said anything.”

You quietly and slowly shut the door behind you, not wanting to wake Ms. Hudson – or John, especially not John. “But I know what you’re thinking.”

“What am I thinking?”

You sigh. “Can we at least talk about this in my flat instead of out here like a bunch of disrespectful hooligans?” You turn the door knob, already knowing it would be unlocked if Sherlock Holmes was sitting outside it.

Sherlock does follow, and you hear him shut the door behind him – quietly, thank God. You glance at the clock, muttering a string of cuss words afterwards. You really hadn’t expected to be out this late, but now here you are, stumbling into your flat with Sherlock on your ass.

“Go on,” you turn to face him, crossing your arms over your chest. “What do you know?”

Narrowing his eyes, Sherlock begins. “Those are the same clothes you wore yesterday, and you’ve been out all night, not a difficult deduction. You left through the window because you didn’t want me to hear the door but forgot to remember I look out the window when playing the violin. You haven’t slept.” He pauses. “Your pupils are dilated intensively and not from the lighting because the sun has yet to rise. You’re sweating, but not from scaling buildings, though that is plausible as well.”

You nod. “Okay.”

He sighs suddenly, causing your eyebrows to furrow. He takes a few steps forward, and if you were sober you probably would’ve had enough sense to take a few steps back, but you don’t. You stay put, watching him in confusion as he gently takes your hand, his eyes watching you as he pushes the sleeve of your jumper up your arm, revealing the few injection sites from earlier.

You avert your eyes, not wanting to see his expression when his thumb grazes over your veins. You don’t see the pain that fills his eyes, or the worry that follows when he sees older spots, confirming his suspicion that this has been happening for a while. A week, maybe two. But not only before that, from earlier. Years.

He’s disappointed in himself that he didn’t say something sooner. He suspected it but didn’t want to jump to any conclusions in fear of his growing sentiment clouding his brain. It turns out he should have let his heart rule his head.

“I know an addict when I see one.”

“I’m not an addict anymore,” you counter weakly.

Sherlock raises his eyebrows. “Aren’t you?”

“I don’t need a lecture from you. From you of all people.” You yank your arm away this time, pulling your sleeve down harshly. “Go ahead and tell John if you must. I know you can’t keep your mouth shut.”

“I’m not going to tell John.”

“Why not?”

“Because you are.”

“I’m sorry?”

“You care for John, you have since you met him. You’re going to feel guilty and you’ll tell him. In your own time.”

“With all due respect, Sherlock Holmes, I’ve kept more from you and John than you’d think.”

“Yes, I know,” he replies, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think you detected a hint of sadness in his tone. “But this is different, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know,” you pause. “Maybe.”

He smirks, turning for the door. As he said before, he knows an addict when he sees one. And if you are anything like him, you’ll want a shower right now.

“Hey, Sherlock?” You clear your throat when he turns back around. “It’s for a case. The Congregation.”

“I’ve used the same excuse,” he gives you a look. “But why?”

“I figured out to be drugged, Tony and Allen had to be vulnerable. As tourists, at a café. But I don’t sit down in a café.”

“No, you get high,” he deadpans, furrowing his eyebrows.

“Exactly,” you reply, entirely serious. “But it is just for the case.”

He nods, but still looks like he doesn’t believe you. Which is fair. You’re not even entirely sure you believe yourself at this point. “You should still talk to John. Every instance when I didn’t, I wish I had.”

“Why can’t I just confide in you?”

Sherlock looks confused for a second before replying, in that tone that says why don’t you see the obvious, “Because John worries about you.”

You raise an eyebrow. “And you don’t?”

“Worrying takes up too much of my time,” he replies, but he’s smiling, a playful glint in his eyes.

“Right,” you tease. “Says the man who locked the bloody window and waited up for me.”

He looks down a little bashfully, almost like he’s embarrassed of his own actions. You shake your head, taking the few steps forward needed to close the distance between the two of you.

You stretch up on your tiptoes, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. “Good morning, Sherlock Holmes.”

“G-Good morning,” he stutters, giving you a strange look.

You see the light pink blush dusting his cheeks and you smile in satisfaction, sauntering off to your bathroom for a shower. You hear Sherlock leave your flat in a bit of a rush a second later.

#Trust #sherlock #bbc sherlock #sherlock holmes #sherlock x reader #sherlock holmes x reader #molly hooper #sibling!reader #half-sibling!reader #slow burn #soft #a lil cheek kiss hehe

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boymeetsweevil · 6 years

Text

For Science 2/7

Grouping: Reader x Nerd!Jungkook

Word Count: ~8.6k lmao where is this going idek

Warnings/Themes: not much honestly just some good old fashioned heavy petting and dry humping :) because why not?

Summary: Jungkook asks you to let him watch you get off. For science.

part 1, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7

The next time you see Jungkook is a few days later when classes have started back up for the week. You spent a good 20 minutes that morning staring up at your ceiling wondering if today would be the day that the consequences of your drunken voyeurism party would come back to haunt you. Jungkook isn’t necessarily someone that can’t keep secrets, but given that he’s a bit of a novice when it comes to sex, you’re not sure whether he’ll keep his mouth shut. And as appealing as cutting class would have been, you can’t risk your grades in your junior year and with applications for jobs looming over your head with one year left.

When you emerge from the food court holding your lunch tray, you head to the patch of grass on the quad that you and the guys like to frequent. From the short distance away, you can see that Tae has just sat down to join Hoseok. Jungkook is nowhere to be found and you’re secretly glad you don’t have to deal with him watching you walk over. You give them a nod as you sit down, careful not to spill your food or the precious brownie wrapped up in the corner well of the tray.

“How was Friday night,” Tae asks over a mouthful of tuna sandwich.

“It was fine, why do you ask.” Your voice remains level as you unwrap your sandwich, but you don’t make eye contact.

“What do you mean ‘why’? Jungkook can’t handle his liquor and always throws up if he has more than one beer. Did he even make it to your apartment? No one heard anything from either of you for the whole weekend.”

“Yeah, I was thinking about that after the uber left,” Hoseok nods sympathetically.

“Shut up,” you laugh, throwing a crumpled wad of plastic wrap at him. “You weren’t thinking about anything. You were knocked out like your BAC was .9.”

“At least I wasn’t…”

“At least you weren’t what? Because whatever you’re going to critique me for, I didn’t do.”

“Didn’t do what,” Jungkook asks as he approaches the area where you’re all seated on the grass.

“Didn’t do you,” Hoseok snorts.

Jungkook pauses with his chicken nugget in midair. “What exactly are we talking about?”

“You don’t remember asking her to deflower you so you’d be a better lay for Yoori? Man, you really are a lightweight. I don’t get it. You’re tall and muscly, it makes no sense.”

“You really don’t remember?” Tae leans over to look at Jungkook with concern.

“I remember what I remember,” is all he says before digging into his lunch without another word. Your relief is short lived because the topic switches only slightly when Taehyung asks about Yoori.

“When did you say she was coming back, again?”

Jungkook’s eyes crinkle with subdued excitement. “She said she was coming back in a month.”

“Well, you’d better start working on that v-card issue then.”

“I’m sure that I’ll come up with some sort of solution,” he shrugs and pushes up his glasses with his middle finger. “Can you go back in line and get me more chicken nuggets, Hoseok?”

“Why me?”

“You’re the only one who’s done eating.” When Hoseok refuses to budge, Jungkook brandishes his ID card like it’s a thick wad of cash. “You can buy whatever you want while you’re up there. On me.”

“Deal,” he snatches the card away before turning to Tae. “Come stand in line with me.”

You turn to watch the two of them go, snorting at how much they resemble tweedle dee and tweedle dum.

“You couldn’t stand in line yourself, hotshot?”

“I just wanted to talk with you privately,” he mumbles while playing with the grass.

“Oh. Is it about this weekend?”

“Yeah. I’ve been giving it some thought and honestly...”

Here comes the rejection, you think. But technically you weren’t even dating, much less together, so how could you be getting rejected? And it was his idea in the first place, so he definitely can’t reject you. The thoughts come at you all at once, inundating you until you’re staring above his head at nothing, trying not to shriek in frustration.

“Hello? Where are you right now, Mars?” Jungkook lays a hand on your shoulder, breaking your reverie.

“What?”

“Did you hear what I said?”

“Uh. No, sorry. What did you say?” You raise your shoulder so his hand slides off on its own, bracing yourself for his next words.

“I said I think we should make it a weekend thing instead of just one day a week.”

“Really? Why?”

“Think about the math for starters. We’d meet maybe four more times if Yoori’s actually coming back in a month. But that’s not nearly enough time to test for variables or come up with a formula. Much less master technique. And think of all the instruments I still don’t have a good familiarity with.”

“Jungkook--”

“I figure with weekends, we could triple the amount of raw time we have. And if we’re really being sticklers for detail, we could more than triple the amount of practice situations if we operate under the assumption that it will be mainly just you acting as the test subject.” His hands flutter as he talks until they land like birds in his hair and turn it into a deranged looking nest.

“Jungkook.”

“I read on Sunday that vaginal orgasms can occur in series and since most of the sessions will be focused on you, we don’t have to factor in the more singular penile orgasms or refractory periods and--”

“Are you really talking about your dick like it’s a limiting reagent right now?”

“Yes,” he stops his rambling to look at you through his lenses, the glass making his eyes appear even rounder and shinier. “Should I not do that?”

“You know what? It’s fine. Weekends are fine. Everything’s fine.”

“Are you sure? Your voice is starting to sound a little...hysterical.”

“No, it’s really fine. I’ll just stay over at your place this week after Fortnite.”

“Crap, I forgot about Fortnite. We were so close to being able to compete in the town tournament.”

“It’s fine, just move it to another day of the week.”

“But how will I explain that to Tae and Hoseok without raising suspicion?”

You gnaw on the corner of your lip until an idea comes to you. “Just tell them that my test scores went down a lot and you have to tutor me. Happens to Hoseok all the time.”

“But there’s no way your results would go down enough for you to need tutoring all weekend long for a month’s worth of weekends. You’re way too smart for that.”

“Y-you think so?” His words make your cheeks warm up and you smile up at him shyly.

His brow furrows. “Of course you’re smart. You know that.”

“Obviously I know, but I…didn’t know you thought that way too.”

“I’d be crazy not to,” he smiles softly at you.

“Here are your damn nuggets, you lazy baby.”

A tray piled high with nuggets and baked goods comes crashing down from Hoseok’s hands with a scary accuracy into Jungkook’s lap. Hoseok never ceases to amaze you with the speed at which he can ruin a nice mood. There’s no sense in mourning a one-sided moment, though, so you just scoop up a stray nugget and nibble. Hoseok sits down roughly onto the green with chocolate stains around his mouth, the cherry tart in his hand seems to be his next victim. Jungkook chokes on a lettuce leaf.

“Just how much did you troglodytes buy!?”

“Not that much,” Tae looks guilty as he peels the wrapper off a drumstick ice cream cone.

“Don’t act like you can’t just reload the missing funds,” Hoseok points a syrupy finger in Jungkook’s direction, “You have that programming money, asshole.”

You shake your head and gesture for Tae to grab what he can and leave them to it.

The most daunting thing about the whole arrangement is that during the rest of the week Jungkook manages to act like he’s hasn’t come over to your apartment to watch and help you get off for the sake of being better lover to Yoori. He’s completely nonchalant in the way that he sits next to you when you all get together to strategize for robotics competitions, his elbow brushing yours the entire time. When Hoseok uses Jungkook’s newfound virginity again to knock him down a peg during a study session where he keeps mock-grading Hoseok’s answers down, he doesn’t bat an eyelash. It’s not like Jungkook has suddenly become cool, though. He still eats like a 5-year-old weight lifter. And he still falls asleep on the floor of Tae’s room only to wake up with the shape of his glasses imprinted onto his face. He still looks across the room with lightning speed and holds out his hand like he did when you were kids because he wants you on his team when you guys stumble upon a spontaneous Super Smash Bros being hosted in Tae’s dorm lobby. Jungkook is still just as much himself as he was before you spread your legs for him and you can’t tell if that makes you happy or sad.

Friday rolls around and you spend 2 hours more than usual getting ready for Fortnite at Jungkook’s. The funny part is that you never ‘got ready’ before. But now you’re taking a 40 minute shower to shave basically every hair that grows below your eyelashes and using the previously unopened lotion your mother bought you from the Clinique store a birthday ago. You even put on a mud mask you bought on a whim once and sing a little song called ‘this isn’t a date’ the whole time it dries on your face. By the time you leave your apartment to head over, your whole body is moisturized, glowing, hairless, and fragrant. You empty out your backpack and fill it with the things you’ll need for the weekend so as not to raise suspicion with an overnight bag. Though it’s significantly lighter because its not filled with textbooks and toolkits, you still feel like you’re carrying a huge weight on your shoulders as you knock on Jungkook’s door.

Taehyung is the first to greet you because he’s the one who gets sent to open the door.

“Weird,” he blurts out. He quickly regrets saying anything when your mouth drops open.

“I look weird?”

“I don’t know,” he studies you as you both make your way to small set up of consoles in the middle of the dorm’s living area. “Guys, doesn’t she look weird?”

“Excuse me. I don’t want to do this right now. Nothing’s weird.”

“You do look weird,” Hoseok chimes in and puts down his controller to stalk forward. “But your hair is doing that same…shape it always does. And you’re not, like, wearing something nice for a change.”

All you can do is gape at their rude comments as they circle around you.

“Kook, come check this out. She look different to you?”

Jungkook approaches slowly and looks you over with the rest of them. When it was just Taehyung and Hoseok, you could at least make angry eye contact and flick them in the forehead when they got too close. But with Jungkook also looking at you, it feels like you’re glued by your feet to the floor, unable to move.

“You don’t really look all that different. You smell a little different, though.”

The other two sniff the air before letting out matching yells of agreement and crowding you further to guess the smell. You have to give Hoseok a purple nurple when his nose starts to tickle your neck but you’re too exhausted to shake Taehyung off and endure him linking arms with you as you walk to your seats to continue sniffing your hairline.

“What’d you do? Run out of that dollar store lotion you use,” Hoseok jokes as he tosses you a controller.

“Yes,” you deadpan just to get him off your back. Jungkook scoots his chair next to yours, getting into the normal team pairings. When he gets close enough, you lean over, sheepish, and ask, “Do I smell weird? Be honest.”

“No,” he pats your thigh reassuringly before redirecting his gaze at the TV. “You smell good.”

Although you’re relieved that no one really questioned your slight change in presentation, you can’t settle fully into the game night because you’re practically vibrating with excited nerves. You’ve stayed the night with hookups in the sense that you were too tired to leave directly after a one night stand so you crashed with them in their beds and snuck out at dawn. But this would be different. While it wasn’t a full-on sleepover with a main squeeze, it was still better than doing the walk of shame from a stranger’s apartment at 6 am. And it would be a weekend with Jungkook. After a few hours of trying to hide the childlike smile on your face and having your character nearly die every round, the gang calls it quits.

“Hey, what’s up with you,” Hoseok calls from across the room. “Why do you suck at playing tonight?”

“Just thought it might be interesting to play like you do for a change,” you snark. Taehyung and Jungkook both grimace for Hoseok, who opts for flipping you the bird instead.

“You know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say this is just misplaced passion between us.”

“Good thing you know better.”

Thinking of Hoseok as anything other than an annoying friend has your skin crawling, but you do give him a pat on the back as a silent ‘good game’.

“Should we go out for ice cream? The night is still young. And you’re out of ice cream,” Taehyung calls from where is head is practically buried inside the freezer.

“Sorry, guys. I’m video calling with RealiCorp tomorrow at 8am about some software updates and I have to get to bed so I can be sharp.”

“You don’t have to come. We can get ice cream just the three of us,” Taehyung says as he slips on his shoes.

“I think I’m gonna have to take a rain check as well,” you perch yourself on the armrest of the couch facing the consoles. “I’m on a diet, so I think I’ll just go home.”

“And the reason you’re not getting up go now is?” Hoseok eyes how comfortable you look in your spot and raises an eyebrow.

“It’s dark outside and it’s not safe for me to walk back. I’m calling an uber.”

“Lame, but safety first, I guess.” He wraps an arm around Taehyung and pulls the door open. “You gonna treat your senior to a snow cone?”

You wait for their figures to disappear down the road before turning to look at Jungkook.

“You don’t really have a RealiCorp meeting.”

He grins. “How’d you know?”

“Easy. RealiCorp offices are in New York and 7pm their time is way too late for a minor business call.”

“You caught me. Are you really on a diet?”

“What do you think?” He snorts and raises his palms in surrender.

“I’m gonna go shower, but I’ll see you in a bit.”

You watch him retreat to the bathroom and suddenly you’re glad he’s gone because there is very little time before he watches you get off again.

Quickly you bring your bag to his bedroom and settle on his mattress and wait. To kill time, you look around the room. The superhero movie posters that cover a generous amount of the wall space and the wall length bookshelf that is covered with stacks of comic books depicting the same stories the movies do all scream ‘nerd’. So does the giant monitor with a large terminal blinking on it and pair of laptops on his desk. The laundry basket has three different shirts with Big Bang Theory quotes on them. You shake your head and recall the day you’d bought them for him off Etsy. You weren’t a fan of the show yourself but he loved to watch it for the jokes and to poke holes in the scientific jargon the characters would spew.

“You notice anything new,” he asks as he walks in, shutting the door behind him while he scrubs at his wet hair with a towel.

“No. Did you add something?”

“Yeah,” he says, pointing to the wall that holds the room’s sole window. There’s a large felt flag with the RealiCorp logo embroidered onto it.

“Oh. Nice flag.”

“Not that, that’s old.” He walks over and gestures a hand underneath the flag. Beneath the flag are a handful of photos off you, Taehyung, and Hoseok from over the years. You remember each of the specific moments in which they were taken.

“You’re not in any of them,” you murmur.

“I know. But I don’t need a picture of myself. I know what I looked like and what I was feeling. Having a photo of you guys is the main thing.”

The softness of his tone makes your heart ache. Jungkook is a sentimental genius, a rare breed. With every fiber of your being you wish that he could be yours. You’ve spent around a decade of your life loving him from afar despite the fact that you’re best friends. But you’re prepared to spend another decade doing it if that’s the way you can stay in each other’s lives. The sooner you commit to that fate, the less cloudy this weird thing you have going on will make your brain and the less it will hurt when it’s over and you watch Yoori get to have him.

“Oh, I have something for you.”

He retrieves a brown paper bag from under his desk and dumps the contents on the bed while you strip off your loose joggers. From the bag fall a giant tube of lubricant and a few sex toys. Your peer down at the trinkets with an amused expression while he putters around his room. When he sits down again, you finally take note of his outfit.

Junkgkook is in his mottled and self-distressed hoodie and threadbare sweats that his dad bought him from the school co-op when he got his acceptance letter 4 years ago. It’s an outfit you’re very familiar with because he often wears it whenever you all are dealing with messy things. Like oil changes, painting the exterior of fighter bots, or baking with Hoseok. Now that his hair isn’t soaking wet, he has his bangs pushed away from his face with a thin headband and sleek goggles replace his chunky black frames. You weren’t going to say anything but then you saw the small notebook and pen clutched in his grasp.

“Okay. What the hell is that outfit?”

“You act like you’ve never seen me in my researching clothes before.”

“I have, but you’re not dissecting a drone you found in a dumpster, you’re looking at my vagina.”

“Proper lab attire is an integral part of any successful experiment,” he waves an admonishing finger at you.

“You’re calling sweatpants with cheese stains on them ‘proper lab attire’?”

“This isn’t an efficient use of our time,” he huffs.

“Oh my god, okay fine.” The energy in the room is a little more chaotic than it was before but it provides you with the push needed to get your panties down and trapped around an ankle and you clambering into a half prone position. “Let the experimentation begin.”

Jungkook waits for you to part your knees before shuffling into his spot between your legs. He ducks his head to peer at your exposed folds before scribbling down some notes.

“What are you writing?”

“Nothing much. Just making note of the initial appearance so I can compare towards the end. Can I touch you? My hands are clean, I promise.”

“Uh, yeah, go ahead.”

Clearly he remembered more than he let on from that first night because he goes straight for your clit like you mentioned before. Slowly, he reaches a pointer finger out to poke. The sudden pressure, though light, has you jumping.

“Sorry,” he looks up at you from behind his frames, “I forgot how sensitive it is.”

“It’s okay,” you tell him as you focus your gaze on the ceiling. You’re trying hard to maintain a semblance of professionalism.

When his finger stops skimming, he’s a little too far south and you tell him so. He adjusts and manages to find it the second time around. He looks at your face carefully to gauge the reaction and is a little disappointed to see that you look bored. He tries circling his fingertip around the little nub, but the pressure is too light and almost ticklish. You snicker quietly and he gives up.

“This isn’t working. You don’t look like you’re having any fun,” he pouts.

“Kook, this isn’t about me. And this is supposed to be educational, not fun.”

“But its only educational for me if you’re having fun. What else can I do?

“What do you mean, you’re doing fine.”

“I did the finger thing and it didn’t do anything. All you did was laugh.”

“No one is laughing at you, though.”

“What about this,” he asks and you have to look back down to see what he’s talking about.

You realize he’s talking about the small bullet vibrator that lay amongst the things he brought in the brown paper bag. He holds it up to your face so you can get a better view of what it is. You look away, already very familiar with it because you have a blue version in the shoebox under your bed.

“Some people do use those to get off, that’s true.”

“Then let’s put this in. It has a USB in it. Will it collect data?”

“Slow your roll. That thing is more for direct clit stimulation than insertion. It’s the same thing I used on myself last time, remember?”

You watch him inspect it. He finds the power button and turns it onto its lowest setting. The low buzz fills the room and reminds you just what type of activities you’re engaging in. Without a warning he lays the vibrating toy where he thinks remembers your clit is. He’s right and the sudden vibrations have one of your legs kicking out involuntarily. You let out a yelp and try to scramble backwards, but the headboard keeps you in your spot.

“Fuck!”

Jungkook throws back his head and laughs. It’s the type of laugh he does where its strong and high and rolling. In most situations its infectious, but here you’re mad that he’s taking advantage of your natural reactions.

“Your leg did that last time too,” he giggles before quickly writing down your reaction. “This is fun.”

He approaches you with the toy again, this time remembering to circle your clit like you had demonstrated before. You just barely keep a moan from escaping. This time your eyes roll into the back of your head at the feeling assaulting your clit.

“Wow,” he breathes.

Again, he hurries to jot everything down in quick script with his free hand. In the porn he’d watched, it seemed like all rubbing a woman’s clit would get you was a coy smile and a musical lilting moan. Your reaction was far more visceral than he had expected. The way your back arched upwards looked almost painful, but there was something graceful about the way your body just took over.

“Okay,” you say harshly. You can feel the pricks of sweat creeping along your hairline and spine. Your body thinks its getting sex soon, but its mistaken. “I think that’s enough learning for today.”

“Oh, come on. We only did one round,” he whines.

“Pfft. That wasn’t even one round. I didn’t cum.”

His nose scrunches in confusion as he jots that down. “You didn’t? Then what was all that flailing you did and the stuff with your face.”

“I’m just…responsive. That’s all.”

“Well, you can’t quit. We agreed to do this all weekend, remember?”

“I know,” you sigh, and cover your eyes with your hands, “Let’s…just move on, okay? What do you think the next step is?”

He frowns a little, the corners of his mouth turning down anxiously. He reaches for one of the toys he brought, a slightly larger than average size dildo, and clutches it in two hands before inching it towards your pelvis.

“No,” your hands come out quickly before he impales you. “Jungkook, think. What’s missing from this situation? Why might it be too early for that?”

“Hold on,” he asks picking up his pen and paper and pinning you with a quizzical look. “Say that again?”

“You can’t just jump to inserting foreign objects.”

He furrows his brows. You watch as his thinking face comes out: the cute scrunched nose, cute pursed lips, cute round eyes filled with confusion. After a few beats, he comes up with something, his fingers snapping with the small victory.

“If I were jerking off right now,” you fight to keep the image from surfacing in your head, “I would need to make sure the friction wouldn’t cause lacerations or inflammation. And I bought this.” He hands you the gaudy pink bottle of lube and you frown once you read the label. Upon further inspection, you can see that its actually just hand cream. Cherry scented.

“Partial credit,” you say, handing it back to him.

“What? Why?”

“Because it’s not real lube and I don’t want a yeast infection.”

“But this is the only one I got,” he pouts.

His dejected face makes you want to wrap him up in the duvet. There is a solution he’s not thinking of, and you suppose there’s no better time than the present for someone to learn about foreplay. The possible complications that could arise are present in the back of your mind, but you figure since you’re doing this all for Yoori, you should go big or go home.

“Jungkook, are you forgetting the vaginas are self-lubricating? That’s a rookie move, even for you.”

His bright smile returns. “How could I forget. But how do we jumpstart the lubrication process? What’s the catalyst?”

“Well, you have to be,” you search for an elegant word but can’t find one, “You have to be turned on.”

“Well, what do I have to do to turn you on?”

The question is innocent in and of itself. But the way that Jungkook tilts his head like an eager puppy, lip trapped between his even, white teeth, smelling like soap and safety makes your stomach do flip flops. He looks up at you, and ponders what it would take to get your folds to become sticky with arousal like they were last time. His hands fidget with the pen and notebook, clearly at a loss for ideas about what the next step is.

“I-it’s different for every person. But foreplay is generally the best way to work someone up.”

His pen moves at an impressive speed as he writes down your words. “Fourplay? Like the number four?”

“Not really, no. I mean if you adhere to, like, the four bases, then sure.”

“What bases?”

“You know what I mean. The bases. The four F’s.” When he merely blinks up at you, no recognition suddenly lighting up his eyes, you realize he’s way more inexperienced than you thought. “French, feel, finger, fuck? Never heard of them?”

“Nope,” he says.

“Okay. Um, it’s a baseball metaphor for sex. Or, more accurately, the events that can lead up to it and then sex. The first one, French, refers to french kissing.”

“What’s Feel stand for?”

“Feel as in feeling someone up or groping them. Finger is pretty straight forward, it stands for fingering but really could be anything you do with the hands. And I guess oral falls into that category too.”

“Fuck is the whole sex, right?”

“Yes, it’s…the whole sex. But maybe just call it sex from now on?”

“Right,” he says. “Which ones would you need in order to lubricate?”

Your cheeks heat. “They’re all pretty much fine for me. I mean the order is pretty appropriate.”

His expression slowly morphs into one of intense thought before it contorts again into nervousness. “I’ve only ever kissed someone once. In middle school. I don’t remember it, but I don’t think I was very good at it.”

“Well, we don’t have to if you’re—”

“No, no, I wanna do it. It’ll be good if we do this now, so I can spend the rest of the time improving. You can help me. I’m sure Yoori likes to kiss people as well,” he says resolutely.

You shake your head to dislodge the idea of Yoori sitting on a throne and watching the evening’s events play out.

“Okay. Maybe we should just focus on one at a time, then.”

“Yeah.”

He tries to shuffle up next to you with his notebook and pen, but you make him leave them by the foot of the bed, explaining that he likely won’t be able to take notes anyway. Once he’s sitting next to you by the pillows, he awkwardly turns to you, neck craned at an uncomfortable angle. You sigh. He’s really not doing anything to help build an ambiance and you have to do it all yourself. You start by reaching out to take off his lab goggles, trying not to laugh at the pink lines they left on his face.

“I can’t see,” he pipes up as soon as you become a blurry shape in front of him.

“You weren’t wearing your contacts under those?”

“I don’t wear contacts. They’re too much of a hassle. And the goggles have prescription in them. It’s easier that way.”

“It’s fine. Most people close their eyes for this anyway.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. It’s easier than trying to focus on someone’s face an inch in front of you. Plus, it feels nice so you just kind of…close them.”

He merely nods and you turn to face him fully. His eyes are squeezed shut and his shoulders are nearly brushing his ears with how tensely he’s holding them.

“Kook,” you whisper, “Why are you all hunched up?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I just got scared for a second. I don’t know.”

“It’s okay. There’s no need to worry.”

“How do these things normally begin?”

“Honestly? You just feel it coming when the mood is right. For now though, either one of us could just start.”

“Maybe I can start,” you’re surprised to hear him volunteering, “And you can take over if I get stuck.”

“Okay,” you whisper as he inches towards you.

You relax your jaw and let your eyes fall closed. Clearly he’s close or else you wouldn’t be able to smell his clean shower gel scent, but a few moments pass and he hasn’t done anything. You’re about to open your mouth to ask him if he’s alright when he finally swoops in and plants a swift peck on your lips before backing away. It was too fast to really be anything close to a kiss. More just a dry bump of lips. You open your eyes again to find him peering at your nervously.

“I got stuck,” he mumbles. Even though he’s a few months older than you, the small way he sits after having had his second kiss makes you feel powerful. Not superior, just capable of taking care of him and showing him ‘the ropes’, whatever they may be.

“That’s okay.” You reach a hand out to glide across his cheek and settle in the hair at the nape of his neck and guide him forward. “You’ll get the flow in no time.”

The kiss starts out dry once again, Jungkooks lips are still closed a bit tightly due to his clenched jaw. But some gentle strokes of the shell of his ear with your thumb help coax him into following the way your lips caress his as best he can. It is, admittedly, a bit awkward at first because his rhythm is off, and you can tell he’s frustrated when you open an eye to peek at him and spy his hands scraping at his knees. He tilts his head, nose brushing yours softly, and then suddenly things slot into place. He manages to sync up with you when he pivots a bit and traps your bottom lip. A little surprised breath leaves you as the kiss stops feeling so one-sided and he pushes forward, emboldened by your response. You let the kiss carry on for a while now that the locomotion seems stable enough to be self-sustained. It’s not until his hands bump against your knee for the third time that you pull back minutely.

“You know, in a situation like this,” you bring one of his hands to rest at the curve of your neck, “It’s okay to consider touching her too.”

He can only nod at you, eyes hooded and a little cross eyed as he tries to focus on your silhouette without his glasses, before licking his lips and edging back in. This time he takes the lead. It starts softly, but you definitely don’t mind. His hair feels like silk in between your fingers and the hand you lay on his ribcage doesn’t scare him off. In fact, he seems to want to even the playing field now that you have both your hands on him and moves his free hand to your waist. The weight of his hand feels heavy and hot, and the area of his grasp as his fingers splay out over you reminds you just how big they are.

Jungkook, being as affectionate as he is, doesn’t need to be told he can wander and soon his hand starts to pet a path down your side and across the small of your back in a mindless, slightly oblong cycle. You can feel the butterflies you felt earlier in your belly getting replaced with a familiar pressure, a faithful precursor to the exact slickness between your thighs that started this heavy petting session. But you figure, there’s all weekend and you’re in no rush. If you had a little devil on your shoulder it would be telling you to draw things out, reminding you that learning is something that takes time, and Jungkook loves to learn more than anyone else you know.

Your pull away again slightly, opting for pressing small iterative kisses on his lips and he chases your mouth, not ready to stop. Pushing forward, you leave kisses like stepping stones until he gets the hint and allows you to guide him into lying propped up on his back.

“It’s easier like this. Easier than sitting up, I mean,” you mutter when you finally have him gazing up at you from the pillows. You lay a hand a few inches below his heart, feeling how it races as he lay under you. “It’s also easier for me too if I sit like this.”

“Right.”

He watches you intently as you swing a leg over so you can straddle him and sit yourself in his lap. As soon as do, his hands return to your waist and yours settle on his biceps. Neither of your keep your hands in your initial starting positions and soon your hands end up back in his hair again. A long while passes before you realize that you still haven’t quite reached the first F.

“Jungkook,” you breathe between kisses.

“Yes?”

“You know what French kissing is, right?”

“Y-yes.”

“Do you know how to do it? It might seem like a strange concept so if you want to skip—”

“No, I want to. I mean I want you to show me.”

“Okay.”

Keeping the mood is important, so you don’t jump into it right away. You’re very much aware that no one responds well to a tongue being shoved into their mouth. With that in mind, you kiss him like you did before, but sneak in a small swipe of the tip of your tongue against his bottom lip. He gasps and in the small moment of surprise, you probe a bit further. He gasps again when the muscle moves across his, but the movement is similar enough to how your lips molded against his earlier that it doesn’t take him too long to get the hang of it. When his tongue slides to edges of your teeth you can’t help but let out a tiny moan. Almost as if a switch was flipped, Jungkook’s arms come to wrap around you tightly, crashing you to his chest and he moves like he’s trying to devour you. At first, there’s a bit too much saliva, but with a well-placed hand on his jaw, you maneuver him into a pattern that’s a little less like a washing machine, but he gets too close-lipped. Another well-placed turn of his jaw puts him right on balance. It’s damn near perfect and, in truth, you’re certain that you could get off like this; with the slick sounds of your mouths working together and the sounds of his periodic gasps fill the room like a symphony underneath you. You dig your blunt nails into the muscle of his thigh and use all of your willpower not to beg him to let you pull down his pants and sink down on his length.

You plant a trail of kisses down his neck before pulling back, suffocating in your pullover. He blinks up slowly at you, about to ask if he overstepped his bounds, but then you grasp both his hands and bring them to where the hem of your baby tee ends. You’re about to take advantage of the whole ‘For Yoori’ situation, but you’re so desperate you don’t care that you’re being an ass.

“What is it?”

“Yoori might be the type of girl to want her boobs played with a little.” You reach behind yourself and under the shirt to unfasten the bra underneath. He squints and then his eyes grow wide as he watches you slide the bra off without ever lifting your shirt. “I mean, that always does the trick for me.”

With that, you lift his hands the last few inches until he’s cupping your breasts. He squeezes a little, tests the weight of them in each large hand. He’s fascinated at the way your nipples seem to appear from out of nowhere to push behind the fabric. He brushes his thumbs over the two peaks and smiles when you’re head drops forward and you scrabble to clutch at his shoulders.

“They’re soft,” his tone is dumbstruck and he squeezes again.

“Yeah, they are. Hey, if you pinch them, she might get really wet. Try--mmm--rolling them between your fingers.”

He heeds your suggestion and plays with your chest until you realize you’ve been grinding against his sweatpants covered leg, completely soaking the fabric with a growing dark spot.

“Looks like you’re ready,” he says softly, the wetness finally accumulating enough to be tangible. “Do we stop now?”

“Do you want to stop?”

He chews a bit on his lip and debates lying so he doesn’t seem needy before remembering it’s you he’s dealing with.

“No,” he finally says.

“We can keep going,” you pull him by his collar to help him sit up. “Are you comfortable like this?”

He nods before sitting up a little, dragging you with him as he moves. You settle back and then you’re pinning him with a look. Curiosity keeps you from immediately going back in to kiss him despite the fact that he just admitted to you that he wanted to continue. The air fills with challenge, the light experimental feeling replaced, and he senses it just like you do. He doesn’t try to steer things back to the way they were though, and instead he takes a moment to enter your space. His breath puffs against your cheek while he gathers his bearings.

“You said you can tell when the mood is the right one for a kiss.”

You hold your breath and think of what to say. Everything feels so fragile and you can practically see the way things are headed but you don’t want to break the tumultuous balance.

“Does right now seem like the right moment to you?”

“Yes.”

“Then do it.”

Jungkook is definitely a prodigy or something. Never in your life have you seen someone so good at picking up new skills as quickly as he does. This is something you’re familiar with and yet you still bury your hands in his shirt out of surprise when his own hand suddenly appears at the back of your neck to pull you in. He tilts his head and kisses you like he’s dehydrated and you’re a softly babbling stream. Each time his lips work over you, you feel as though he’s drinking, like he’s pulling something from you. Something you’ve been dying to have him accept from you for a long while. There’s something soft about the way his tongue slides over yours and it’s so tender and everything you want but its also not enough.

He’s solid underneath you and his skin feels almost feverish with how warm it is. There’s strength in the sinewy bundles that cord under your roaming touch and you want to see him put it to use on you so badly that it frustrates you and bleeds into your kiss. You forget where you are and nip at his lip harshly, though not enough to damage. You forget that you haven’t introduced Jungkook to the rougher parts of amorous activities until he tenses underneath you while letting out a low and guttural groan, hands clutching at your hips tightly and then releasing with a nervous flutter.

“Sorry,” he says shyly as his hands come to rest in the part of his lap that you’re not occupying.

“Why are you sorry? I’m the one that bit you.”

“I just meant sorry for…poking you” he can’t finish his sentence because his tongue is tied with embarrassment. You figure he’s talking about how he grabbed you when you bit him and brush it off. Then you feel him thick and hard, nudging your inner thigh.

“Oh. There’s no need to be sorry.”

“But this isn’t about me, this is about--”

“Jungkook,” you stop him with a light hand on his collarbone. “I know your main goal is to be able to please Yoori, but sex is a two-way street. You’re allowed to feel good too.”

“I—okay.” His shoulders are still rounded into himself in a way that makes it clear to you he’s still dwelling on his erection. On instinct you’re moving back in to plant soft kisses on his cheek. You know you’re blurring lines a little by doing so, but you want him to stop feeling so bad.

“Hey, it’s really not an issue. In fact,” you kiss your way to the plush corner of his pouting mouth, “We can really work with this. Let’s try something.”

“What are we going to—Oh!”

His breath leaves him in almost pained huff as you move to slot your dripping center over the bulge in his sweats. A moan sublimates between your mouths and you’re honestly not sure who it came from as you relish in the feel of the drag of the material against your clit. You press kisses to the line of his throat before sucking a bruise at the place where shoulder meets neck. The feeling of your tongue laving small cycles into his skin has his eyes fluttering shut.

After a certain age, Jungkook knew that despite having skipped a few grades, and never having an unweighted GPA of less than 4.46, there were things that some of his peers were becoming aware of but would remain mysterious to him. A few petty classmates had also reminded him on a regular basis that he may only ever know the feeling of relief when it was supplied by his own lubed up right hand. It didn’t worry him much because he assumed that was the fate all those who devoted their lives to science until he watched his peers begin to date as well. Suddenly he was monitoring the freshman night lab by himself on Friday nights because his shift partner was going on dates.nQuickly after that, he was convinced that he’d never get to feel the warmth of another body under his palms.

So as his hands move to stroke your up your sides to your ribs, over your breasts, and back down again while bucking up into your heat, he feels a swell of something towards you. It must be gratitude because you’re giving him a gift. The ability to feel and hold someone while they’re in the throes of an orgasm he produced. And because of this, he’ll be able to do it with Yoori, the girl of his dreams.

He opens his eyes to stare up at your face which is scrunched up in pleasure. It’s amazing, he notes, how easy it is to do all these new things with you. Even the initial fear of failure that he often gets with new subjects fades away in an instant when you put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

You’re warm above him and soft under his hands where he kneads at your chest. He flexes a thigh to give himself so leverage to hump up against you and you whine at the way he now presses firmly against your core. You bury your face in his neck and snap your hips forward. The abrupt onslaught of friction takes him by surprise and he’s coming in his pants after not ten minutes of dry humping with you in between his Thor sheets. The pleasure is so intense that his vision whites out as he cums and he throws all caution to wind as it rips through him. His arms wind around you and pull you closer, a whine leaving him as he slumps back into the pillows.

You fall back with him and let out a small ‘oof’. A quick glance at his sweat drenched and flushed face tells you he must have had a good time. Strong arms are still locked around your waist and the surprise of falling distracted you from chasing your own high, so you merely wriggle out of his grasp and sit back on your heels.

“Good?”

He gives you a wry smile that you usually only see when he’s been drinking. “Yeah.”

“Good,” you say as you hop of the bed and pull on your forgotten joggers before picking up your backpack.

“Wait! Where are you going?” His tone is open and clearly distressed. He fumbles for the prescription goggles that rest on the night table by the bed and shoves them onto his face roughly.

“To shower? My stuff is in my backpack.”

“Oh. Well…did you bring a sleeping bag?”

“No, but I brought a blanket and a pillow for the couch.”

“Don’t sleep on the couch,” you raise an incredulous brow and he backpedals. “We all spent 4 hours farting into that couch because no one wanted to pause the game.”

“Not me.”

“Are you sure?”

��Yes, I’m sure,” your face heats up. Whether or not you’re lying is none of his business and you’ll fart where you please without feeling shamed for it. “I’ll just sleep in here. I guess.”

Your time in the bathroom is stressful. Leaving his bedroom, you had a mean case of blue balls and you weren’t sure you could deal with them in his bathroom. It’s never something you imagined you’d have to do while you were at his place, though its not the first time you’ve spent the night or showered there. Game night can get long and you’ve spent many a night fighting Hoseok for hot water in Jungkook’s dorm. After some long and hard thinking about the long and hard thing in Jungkook’s pants, you decide he isn’t the only person who gets to do things for the first time and guide the detachable the shower head between your legs with a fist in your mouth to muffle your moans.

Jungkook is exactly where you left him when you return from the shower, but you can’t face him as you turn back the covers on your half of the bed.

“How was your shower?”

“It was a shower, it was fine.”

“Okay,” he says after a beat.

“I’ll try to be quiet when I leave for yoga. You can keep the light on if you’re not going to sleep right now.”

Up until you said that, Jungkook was tired, but he stays up until your breathing slows and deepens with sleep. It’s drastically different from the way your breath hitched loudly in the shower. He wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, he just wanted some water before bed. But there was something almost musical about the sounds of your choked off moans as you tried to be quiet in the bathroom. He’s proud to say that he didn’t linger once he realized what was going on. He went straight back to his room when his dick twitched in his pants.

Now that you’re asleep, he ventures out the clean himself up before returning. You’ve stolen his pillow to clutch over your face by the time he’s come back. Your pillow from home is still wedged safely under your head and he doesn’t want to wake you. He’s left with no other option than to rest his head on your stomach. If he doesn’t, he won’t sleep at all without a pillow and that’s no good. This is clearly the only solution. Clearly.

When you wake up the next morning 5 minutes before your alarm because you can’t breathe because there’s a giant weight on your chest. The weight is actually Jungkook and you’re not sure what to do.

Apparently, you spend 5 minutes not sure what to do because your alarm starts, waking Jungkook with more confidence than you ever could. You watch with fascination as his eyes open slowly, and wriggling out from under you to wipe at the corners. He turns, resting his chin near your belly button and blinks sleepily at you, gears turning slowly before registering where he is and what he’s doing. You chance a small smile at him.

“Morning.”

“Good morning,” he says. His stare is intense and you wonder if maybe you look haggard or messy.

“What is it?”

He doesn’t respond and instead inches forward with a look of determination. When he’s an inch in front of your face you realize what he’s doing, but its too late to complain about morning breath or being late to Saturday morning yoga.

It’s not long before he’s licking into your mouth slowly, giving you a chance to pull back, change the pace, tweak something. But there’s nothing to change. It doesn’t taste great but it feels amazing and your hands reach up to pull him down onto you without a thought. He groans and tentatively rubs his thumb over the swell of your breast that peeks through the side of your sleeveless sleep tank.

You miss yoga.

#bangtan bookclub #networkbangtan #btssmutclub #bttnetwork #btswriters #bangtan fanfic #bangtan imagines #bangtan scenario #bts fanfic #bts scenarios #bts smut #bts imagines #jungkook fanfic #jungkook imagine #jungkook scenario

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kieranmcli · 6 years

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Silicone casting for stop motion: obscure tips

Even with books and the internet I found it surprisingly tricky to find actual detailed information on casting silicone specifically for stop motion puppets. There’s a lot of word-of-mouth-only stuff and weird little issues to trip you up, and there’s plenty of useful tricks that I only stumbled on in obscure comments sections, vague offhand references or through what little experience I’ve gained.

Point is, here’s an incomplete list of some of the little things I found useful that never seem to be in one damn place. I’m still very much figuring this out myself, so if some of these are more obvious or strange than others don’t laugh too hard. Hopefully somebody’ll find them useful (taken with a hefty pinch of salt).

Even with soft, deadened silicone, the thinner it is the better, so every joint in the armature should be packed out fully with soft sponge-y upholstery foam beforehand

It’s better to take a big block of this foam, punch a hole in the middle and slide it over the joint like a sleeve - before attaching the other end if necessary - than to try gluing or sewing two halves back together

If you make a maquette around the final armature, which already has neatly-carved foam on it, trace around the thing on a piece of paper so you’ve got a reference for the shape and size it’s meant to be - when you sculpt NSP clay on top the foam will squish and it’ll be otherwise impossible to tell if you’re laying it on too thick or unfaithfully

When casting silicone around an armature covered in spongy foam, seal the foam first with a thin layer of silicone and allow it to cure outside the mould so the final ‘flood’ of rubber doesn’t just soak in and solidify the joint

Also do this to stop air bubbles getting trapped in the silicone and moving throughout the cast when you pour on it

If the brush you paint this on with is too stiff the silicone will get pressed into the sponge instead of sitting on top like a thin film. I usually spread it like butter using a flat tool eg. a lollipop stick

Put texture/hatching/lumps and holes on the armature’s solid bones to get as much mechanical grip with the silicone as possible, since it doesn’t properly stick to anything but itself

Joints work better with big, defined creases in them and very stiff hinges/wiring to counteract the silicone’s natural springiness

If mixing silicone in a plastic cup, make sure it’s not full of static electricity or everything you pour in it will fly around and stick halfway up the sides, which is all kinds of a pain in the arse

To get all the silicone casts tinted the exact same colour, tint an entire batch of Part A (ie. set all you're planning on using aside in a good sealed container, like a jam jar) with the pigment then use bits of that same batch for all casting and patching

If possible, brush on a thin backfill layer inside the mould before flooding or adding the armature, and allow to cure to a level of tackiness before mixing up and adding the rest of the silicone - this both prevents ugly air bubbles rising to the surface of the cast and stops the armature from poking through

Flip the mould over now and again while the backfill cures or it’ll all just pool at the bottom

If the backfill skin you’ve just done is too thick, or the silicone’s supposed to be very thin around the armature, start mixing up the flooding batch pretty much immediately after applying the backfill, so when you pour it it’s tacky enough that the armature can sink in a little to the outer skin if pressed by the mould halves

For god’s sake don’t forget the clamps

You’ll thank yourself later for winding the clamps to the right distance to fit around the mould before you’ve filled it and it’s slowly seeping out onto the tabletop

Coloured silicone can be backfilled into tiny spaces with a syringe for little details

You don’t technically need to put release agent - like Vaseline - in a plaster mould when casting silicone in it, but sometimes it makes life a little bit easier. And if you’re using a plaster mould, it’ll chip and break and crumble away details more quickly without it, so it’s worth using

No ordinary paint will stick properly to silicone (but if it’s a solid unmoving piece of the model and you’re both careful and lazy, you might get away with a couple of little details)

You can add minor shading and weathering with powders like chalk and charcoal if you need to

If adding this before the silicone’s been cast (the easiest way IMO) you can draw on the inside of the mould with, for example, a charcoal pencil, and it’ll be set in the surface of the cast afterwards

If adding it after the silicone’s done, you can apparently grind the chalk into powder, mixing colours to taste, then apply it to the silicone surface with a brush. Then you seal it in by airbrushing on a thin, clear solution of cheap silicone (eg. sealant) mixed with lighter fluid (I think). I have not tried this one.

I was suspicious, but it turns out filling both halves of a mould with silicone, adding the armature and then just sandwiching them together is a totally normal and legitimate way of casting that doesn’t somehow give you a ton of trapped air bubbles. Injection moulding seems much trickier, if cooler-looking

Exposed K&S tubes at the end of extremities are an extremely useful way to float an armature in the centre of a mould without it sinking into the silicone - if you don’t have any solid bits like that I hear pins can be used to support the armature, if you fill the holes afterwards

When repairing patchy bits of silicone by applying more to the surface of a piece, you can secure something a little rough (tissue, gauze, tape, etc.) on top while it’s curing so it ends up with a fine matte texture. Alternatively just sprinkle a healthy coating of cornflour or talc over the whole thing, then wash it off when it’s done (this is easier IMO and gives a smoother, clean finish). Left to its own devices outside a mould silicone always ends up with an ugly liquid gloss

When seaming, trim off as much as you can with small scissors then apply Vaseline to the cast before filing the seam lines away with an emery board or a dremel’s stone tool. The idea is that the Vaseline acts as a lubricant to stop the tools snagging on the silicone and tearing it up (I’ve heard lighter fluid works for this too, though I didn’t have much luck with it)

Alternatively you can cut a small trench into the seam area and patch it up with more silicone afterwards, which may be a little smoother. Personally I found this gave a nicer finish, but beware peeling patch edges.

If your silicone’s still tacky or jelly-ish after the recommended 45 minutes, don’t immediately panic.

If it’s still like that after another two hours, then yeah, sure, maybe it’s time to panic

A decent estimate of how much silicone you’ll need to fill a mould is to weigh the clay you stripped from the maquette, then add 15% or so for safety. Obviously this isn’t at all precise given clay and silicone have different densities, but I find it pretty useful

Make sure to write down how much silicone you’re going to need - the scales won’t tell you much Part A you put in after the cup’s got pigment and a lolly stick sitting in it too

A few grams will always stay in the cup no matter how hard you try to scrape it all out, so compensate

And for good measure here’s where I bought materials when I ordered them online (I’m based in Scotland btw):

Crystacal R plaster (more durable and detailed than normal stuff)

Mouldlife silicone pigments

Dragon Skin FX-Pro platinum silicone (1kg)

Also here’s some other useful links:

The How And Why Of Silicone (Part 1)

Misadventures in Mouldmaking

Making silicone puppet - Stopmotionanimation.com forum

Big questions regarding silicone - Stopmotionanimation.com forum

Casting the puppet body - Nathan Flynn’s blog

#grad film #modelmaking #silicone #casting #mad science models

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dropyourswordfanfic · 6 years

Text

get well soon - Peter Parker

part nine - Sweetener Series

Song: get well soon - Ariana Grande

Prompt: “my life is so controlled by the what-ifs”

“i’m with you”

Summary: Peter visits you at home with a get well soon balloon.

Warnings: fluff

At school alone for the first time in months Peter got questioned over and over about where his girlfriend was. If she was sick, when was she coming back? To be perfectly honest he had no idea when she was coming back he just wanted her to feel better. Wanted her to feel like her bright perky self again.

Going through the motions didn’t feel the same. When Peter got to lunch not sitting next to her made him feel so empty.

“Hey, hey, Parker!” MJ snapped, “you there?”

“Obviously,” Peter rolled his eyes.

“Well you just kinda zoned out for a bit that’s all,” Ned said worried.

“Oh, it happens,” Peter took a bite of his sandwich, “I was just thinking a bout a new experiment I wanted to try after school.”

“Sure, that’s what you were thinking about,” MJ teased.

Peter’s cheeks started to blush as he started to think about (Y/N), a goofy smile on his face.

“Where is (Y/N) anyway?” Ned asked straight to the point.

“Oh she hasn’t been feeling well. I imagine she should be back in the next couple days,” Peter said not revealing to much of the truth.

“Oh is she sick?” MJ and Ned say simultaneously.

“Uh, sure,” he said uncertain of what to say.

“Do you not know if she’s sick?” MJ looked puzzled.

“Or is she just ditching school and your upholding her honor? It’s okay, you can tell us,” Ned said.

“No, she’s definitely not feeling well. She just didn’t tell me what she came down with,” Peter forced a smile.

“Oh it must be serious,” MJ rubbed her chin thinking.

“Or she just want’s to keep it private,” Peter pointed out.

“Either way you should get her a get well soon balloon,” Ned said thoughtfully.

“That’s a great idea Ned, I’ll drop it off after school,” he finished his sandwich.

“Can we come with?” They asked.

“Um, I don’t know?” Peter truthfully asked getting up from the table, “to be safe I’ll just go for all three of us.”

Leaving from the cafeteria and school altogether to visit you, Peter stopped by a store to pick up a balloon to gift you.

Knocking on the door to her apartment Peter waited for you to answer. Opening the door slowly a smile grew when you saw who it was.

“Peter,” you hugged him, “don’t you have school right now?”

“Yeah, I ditched the rest of my classes,” Peter smiled.

“Why?” you walked over to the couch sitting next to each other.

“I had to give you this,” Peter handed you a balloon that said ‘get well soon’.

“You didn’t have to do this you know,” you giggled.

“I know, everybody wanted to let you know they hoped you felt better soon. Ned suggested getting you a balloon so,” Peter rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

“So you thought you’d ditch the rest of the day and deliver one to me,” you gave him another hug.

“Basically,” he squeezed the life out of you.

“Well thank you,” removing yourself from the hug, “it really cheered me up.” you smiled.

Peter brought you into his side kissing your temple. Sitting together in the middle of your couch made you feel normal. Like how it was before Peter was Spider-Man, or at least before you knew.

“I’m glad it made you feel better,” Peter got up grabbing his backpack.

“Where are you going?” you looked confused.

“I don’t know, never ditched school before,” he shrugged.

“Well we could watch movies for the rest of the day,” you suggested.

“Yeah,” Peter shuffled back to the couch, “okay.”

For the rest of the day you and Peter watched old movies and ate junk food. He made you laugh while the movies sometimes made you cry. It felt good to feel good and relaxed as he did nothing with you. But the day came to a close and it made you sad.

“Hey,” Peter said walking toward the door, “don’t be sad, call me on the phone anytime you need me.” he look you dead serious in the eyes.

“Anytime?” you repeated.

“Anytime.” he hugged and kissed your forehead.

“Alright,” you smiled.

You watched Peter leave until you couldn’t see him anymore.

The next day Peter went to school, alone, again. But he figured you wouldn’t be back at school for another couple days. Except today while he was in third period he got a call, from you.

“(Y/N) what’s wrong?” Peter said taking the call out in the hall.

“I think it just happened again,” you said in hysterics.

“What do you mean?” Peter sounded worried already on his way to your apartment.

“I mean I think i just had an attack. But I’m not sure,” you tried to calm your breathing.

“Okay, tell me what happened,” Peter said soothing.

“All I know is one minute I was reading a book and the next minute, it’s an hour later!” you start to freak out.

“Could you have just fallen asleep?” He asked sweetly.

“Possibly?”

“I’m coming over anyway,” Peter said determined.

“You don’t have to do that!” you insisted but you low key wished he would insist harder.

“Oh no, I’m coming over just to make sure your okay,” Peter hung up.

Oh okay, you thought, smiling to yourself. Knowing Peter could make you feel better. Deep down you knew calling him anytime you needed was short term because this was your problem, not his. You have to find a solution that doesn’t involve relying on other people. But for now, it worked just fine considering the capacity of your ‘freak outs’.

Racing up to your door and knocking ferociously Peter caught his breath while waiting for you to let him in.

“Coming,” you said right as you got to the door. Opening the door you said, “Thank God!” you hugged him with tears in your eyes.

“It’s alright, i’m here now,” Peter rubbed your back.

“I know, i am so grateful,” you looked up at him through watery eyes.

Standing in your doorway you just held each other. Silent crying the only thing filling your soul. As soon as you felt comfortable you let go of Peter and let him in to your apartment, closing the door behind you.

“What happened? How are you feeling?” Peter questioned on his way to the couch.

“Well, I was reading a book,” you started.

“Was it a depressing book?” he asked.

“No actually, it wasn’t. But it made a point that got me thinking, about how down my life has been lately. And I think it’s because,” you stopped because you weren’t ready to rip off the band-aid.

“You think it’s because of.... what?” Peter repeated.

“I ultimately just think that my life is so controlled by the what-ifs. And when Spider-Man also happens to be my boyfriend Peter Parker there are a lot of what-ifs.” you poured out.

“So I’m the one who makes you feel this way?” Peter looked sad.

“No, you make me so happy,” you smiled and held his hands, “it’s just ever since I found out your other identity, I’ve been wishing it wasn’t you out there. Because I don’t want you to get hurt. I don’t want you to die.” you sob.

“(Y/N), I’m sorry I didn’t mean to become Spider-Man. But now that I am the spider I can’t exactly stop,” Peter looked into your eyes.

“I don’t want you to stop. I love that your a superhero, I just hate the possible consequences,” loud tears ran down your cheeks.

“I’m with you, I will always be with you. You don’t have to worry,” Peter put his hand on your cheek going in for a kiss, you turned away.

“I know,” you stood up, “I know.” you had to tell him.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

a/n: i know this is a little angsty but for the most part it’s fluffy and it leads right up to the next part. witch part eleven of Sweetener Series will be out in the next couple days!

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #spiderman #tony stark #iron man #get well soon #sweetener #sweetener series #dropyourswordfanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #imagine #marvel #mcu #soulmate #soulmate au

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deepdrearn · 6 years

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My First Ultra: race recap / long distance musings

I woke up from the sound of the rain on the roof. Hard rain. Ugh. Can I still cancel this?

But as soon as twilight set, I got up and dragged myself to the washing facility of the campsite. I was completely aware of the Dutch weather when I signed up for a race on November 10th. I'd signed up anyway. I'd trained for months. I got J to drive and camp with me here last night. I was pretty invested.

An apple syrup sandwich and a half later, we took off to the start, to arrive an hour early. Which gave us plenty of time to get my bib, a coffee, and three nervous trips to the van to get some thing I forgot. The other runners came in one by one. Mostly middle aged men and some hipster insta ultra runner anton krupicka styled boys taking selfies. I guess there were about ten percent women, which is I guess a ratio that I'm used to from studying computer science :'). On our way to the start we run into E, a former CS classmate, that had dropped out to become a filmmaker/ultra runner. This would be his first 50k too.

The start is indicated by a modest banner at the edge of the forest. There we go. Me and E do a little catching up and follow the stream of runners. The course is beautiful. So beautiful. Also, it is not easy. Soon we are running in loose sand. There's quite some climbing. Some hard climbs are awkwardly squeezed into the course just for the heck of it. I'm starting to realize that by doing a trail for my first ultra I had added some serious difficulty. But I manage to find a relatively comfortable pace behind two older runners ("We're taking it easy, there's plenty of miles to go!"). I stay there untill the first aid station, where I get out quick with a banana and E.

We read a sign: "The Hell of Heibergen. Have Fun!!". I will soon discover what this is about: there is a hill, and the course has been draped over that hill about ten times. Did I underestimate the vertical gain in the course? Or did they just put all of it in this tiny section? It is easy to miss a mark here and get lost, which obviously we do. A lot. I'm pretty sure I ran at least half of this 'Hell' twice. Because of the detours we are behind the senior runners again. They are way better at navigation than this spoiled google maps generation. The group around us occasionally still takes a wrong turn but luckily there's always someone that sees the course mark in time. I am very glad to be around others to find our way together. Everyone around me is exceptionally friendly. When I trip over some roots, everyone stops to check I'm okay and only continues when I'm on my feet again. There's chatting with other runners and little competition or speedups. We all have a long way to go.

Around 20k, E tells me he wants to slow down soon. I want that too, but not just jet. The course is heavy. More loose sand. I'm tired and I hurt. Soon I don't see E anymore. I have 30k to go and already gave up the idea of a 6 hour finish. The seniors are obviously pros at this and slowly but surely they are running away from me.

A little further I change to the 5:1 run/walk plan I've tried in training. It makes the distance easier to control. All I now have to do is count down the five minutes till I can walk. What I suspected is true: this one minute walk allows me so much recovery that my average speed is barely under the pace that I would be capable of when running continuusly in this state. I keep up with the runners around me (that are not taking any walking breaks).

5:1 is my world. 5:1. Ten times in an hour. I check my watch, not really for distance, but for minutes.

I've ran 30. If this is where the marathon starts, then maybe this is just where long distance really starts and it is also the start of my ultra. Because around this point I am starting to feel a certainty. I know for a fact that my reach of the finish is inevitable. I am getting there. At 20k I was wondering what the hell I had gotten myself into. Now it is crystal clear that I will get through the next 20k. I just can. Not like it's a breeze. My feet hurt. My hair feels like a weird wig tugging my head. It is raining and each time I slow down for a walk, it feels like I'm going to pee my pants. But I can do it. This is one of the most beautiful and hardest things I have ever done.

Runrunrunrunrunwalkrunrunrunrunrun.

Around me are a Belgian guy and a girl in a Rotterdam marathon shirt. Sometimes they walk a minute with me. And if they don't, I catch up with them each time again. It is annoying to notice that I am absolutely not wanting to eat. The thought of food is off-putting and my stomach gets upset from the electrolyte solution. It is incredibly rare for me to have no appetite and even rarer that I have to force feed candy. Definitely moments to remember. The last aid station is about 8k before the finish. I pee, dilute the electrolyte solution with water and manage to shove in a piece of banana. I walk away with some more banana.

I walk and eat my banana. Fuck this shit. I have already ran a marathon. I get to walk as much as I want from here on. Or so I tell myself. I get a little hypothermic and some fingers loose bloodflow. It is still raining. Running is my only way of staying warm. So there we go.

If I talk to people about long distance running, I sometimes say that with each mile you run, there's a layer peeled off of you. Till there's only the core, stripped of all things unnescesarry. And the world shrinks accordingly. There is no world. Not outside of me and the square meter I'm running on. There is no niceties, no constructs. I am here and I am the world. In all simplicity.

Then two runners pass: "Just 4k to go!". 4k? I was supposed to do at least 7, right? The runners swear their data is on point. Has my GPS been thrown off by the forest, as it has before? Did I unknowingly cut the course? Is their story real? Only 4k to go? This is the weirdest idea, and the biggest mindfuck at this point. But I shrug it off, as an underestimation seems worse than an overestimation. I'm running close to a highway. I've seen this on the map. But where was it? 4k to go? 2k to go? Then there's a sign: "1k to go". WTF? Only one? And I was counting on 4! I take the last few hills. Running down has become a Very Hard Thing, as has climbing. I manage to almost take the wrong turn right before the finish but get corrected by the Belgian guy. I see the finish banner. I see J. There is applause and cheering. There is a medal on my neck. A goodie bag. I hug J and tear up. The photographer catches this moment too late and we do it again. Laughter. I check my watch and see that I have run 5:59:33.

#race recap #my first ultra #ulra running #long distance running #runblr #running #runner #race report #ultra marathon

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ja9doeswhole30 · 6 years

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Whole30 Hurdles

Welp. I’m up to the part in the Whole30 book where they suggest that you write down any events or special occasions that will occur during the 30 days and present a challenge to staying on the plan. So here’s my list:

3/6: Cookie-making fundraiser event at my son’s school. It’s baking and decorating the cookies, and not necessarily eating them, but there will inevitably be snacks and booze off to the side for the before-and-after socializing sessions. Then again, it’s in the evening, so I will have eaten dinner and won’t be hungry. And if I feel like partaking in the snacks they usually have a vegetable tray, and I can bring something compliant just in case.

3/9: Hubs’s fantasy baseball draft at our house, during which the guys will inevitably order Turkish food. But, it’s at our house, so I’ll have my own food available. I’ll make sure to have something super tasty ready

3/21: Purim (Jewish holiday involving carnivals for kids, debauchery for adults, & cookies for all). My kids will inevitably want to make hamantaschen, and I’m going to have to help them do so without eating the finished product. There really isn’t a Whole30-based substitute for a soft sugar cookie shaped like a triangle with jelly in the middle, but that’s also kind of the point. And at least I’ll get to spend time with them doing something they enjoy, and get to experience the deliciousness of the cookies vicariously.

3/22: My sister-in-law is due to give birth to my niece sometime around this date, which will likely lead to meals out with the rest of the family after going to see the baby. I know there’s a section of the Whole30 book about eating in restaurants, so I’ll apply some advice from there once I read it.

That’s not so bad, right? Still, I’m less worried about the “special occasions” challenges so much as the “frantic pace of every day” challenges. Unfortunately, the more I read about Whole30 the more I realize that it’s destined to be more challenging for people with small children.

Allow me to explain my household in particular.

I am a one-woman kitchen brigade. I’ve always been a grazer, but this is exacerbated out the wazoo because 90% of the time I’m home, I’m in the kitchen. The kids can’t even reach the snack cabinet or produce shelf in the fridge, much less cook for themselves. On any given day, I make breakfast for at least 2 people, lunch for 3 people, and dinner for 4 people... and everyone is usually eating something slightly different.

On the one hand, doing Whole30 won’t be that much of a departure from usual. For breakfast, the kids get cereal with milk (or sometimes a scrambled egg for the 5-year-old) while I make something more balanced for myself. For lunches, I’ll still pack their slew of cut fruit and crackers and cheese and mini bagels and make mine out of leftovers and other pre-cooked, Whole30-compliant ingredients. And for dinner, I’ll still be making one set of “healthy grown-up food” for me and another of “passably nutritious kids’ food” (with Hubs partaking in each menu).

The difference, obviously, is that I won’t be allowed to so much as lick errant cream cheese off my finger when spreading it on their bagels. The Whole30 materials make a big deal about “no slips or cheats!” and uses the analogy of falling face-first into a pizza as the only true “accidental” way one could fall off the wagon. But what about the distracted mom who’s doing a million things at once and forgets that she’s not supposed to lick the peanut butter off the knife after making her kid a sandwich? I’ve been trying to train myself not to take these little liberties, to break the habit before Whole30 starts, but it’s not easy when it’s been so automatic and (seemingly) innocuous for so long.

There are also certain other practicalities. What if we’re not sure if the milk is still good, and smelling alone isn’t enough to determine that? Hubs doesn’t drink milk so he isn’t a reliable taste-tester, so I may need to explain it to 5yo and have her take a small sip to check it out. I realize that there’s always some solution to these sorts of obstacles, but my point is that with food in our house the buck always stops with me, and it’ll be a struggle to sidestep these usual incidental tastes of food for 30 days.

Someone is always eating. The Whole30 meal plan says simply “try not to snack”. Good luck to me with all the constant temptations.

Most afternoons, starting at about 3 PM, I’m home with the kids and their constant stream of requests for snacks. By the time I negotiate a compromise whereby they can each have a serving of Awful Processed Snack Food if they also have fruit, and produce said items for one of them, the other one changes his/her mind and I quickly prepare something else, at which point the first eater has finished and wants additional food. Sometimes I’m able to get out in front of it and produce a slew of things that they share with minimal fuss, but they inevitably find something to fuss over. Yesterday I scored a huge victory when my daughter had a friend over and they each had a yogurt, some cashews, and craisins.

Anyway, during these intervals it’s hard not to pick at whatever it is they’re snacking on - popcorn or cheesy corn puffs and sliced apples/oranges/pears. During particularly tense or stressful moments I indulge in spoonfuls of peanut butter or other nonsense we happen to have around.

But at least the afternoons are only a few hours long. The real killer is the weekends, when the kids wake up at 6 AM, eat two breakfasts (one at 6:30-7ish and another around 8:30-9) and then around 10:30 ask if it’s almost lunchtime. My instinct thus far has been to leave the weekends free of organized extracurricular activities, so that we can enjoy the free time together and/or make plans with extended family and friends, but I’m starting to understand the appeal of getting the kids out of the damn house and to an activity of some kind so they stop asking for food.

Hopefully the weather will warm up a big so I can engage Spring Play Outside mode more often than the Winter Hibernation setting.

Four meals? Sitting down? I know I’m not the only person in the world with this problem, but a related part of the equation is that it’s hard for me to sit down to eat a meal without being completely distracted. Lately I find I’ll nibble on some fruit while getting the kids ready, then eat a larger “real” breakfast later in the morning once they’re off at school. Most days lunch is easier, and I’ll sit down to something at home or at my desk at work. Still, during these meals I’m usually checking emails, reading a document, or writing something.

Dinner, though, is a totally different situation. I’m usually the last to sit down, on account of scrambling to get everything cooked and warmed up and prepared according to everyone’s specifications. And, of course, as soon as I do get my butt in a chair and start eating, someone

Something I didn’t think about until reading up on Whole30 is the logic that if you eat wholesome, appropriately sized meals, you don’t need to snack. There’s no reason I can’t have my post-workout meal around 7-8 AM, breakfast at 10-11ish, lunch around 2, and then dinner at 6:30. That lunchtime may be tricky on some days given when I need to pick up my kids, but regardless I can see now how snacking will be easier to avoid if I make meals a calm and fulfilling eating experience.

#whole30 #whole30 goals #foodblr #fitblr #nutrition #whole30 obstacles #ja9 does whole30

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north-texas-madhatter · 4 years

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An old country boy... Sitting with my dad in the back yard at the edge of Tandy Hills overlooking downtown Fort Worth you would never know that you were in the presence of such greatness. He looks as old as time, Parkinson’s causes his hands to shake as he points to a family of raccoons just at the forests edge. My mom asks if anyone would like some tea and my dad cracks some corny joke that he has grown famous amongst friends and family for. I know he is hurting but for a man who could dig a ditch in 110 degree heat on his ranch he keeps a stiff upper lip but not one so stiff as not to smile at his own jokes.

He grew up in Springtown, Texas. A small dusty blue-collar town in the Bible Belt. The son of a Southern Baptist piano teacher (a kind but tough to the point frontier type woman) and a soft spoken father who worked for Swift / Armor Company. He was born in a room in a rock house sitting on a creek just outside of town and learned what tough was while working in the cold of winter and the stifling heat of summer. He bailed hay and saved up for college with a broader horizon in mind beyond what his small town life had to offer.

One of the earliest memories I have of my dad was a visit to his work for the Fort Worth Water Department. I stood there watching the bubbles percolate up through the basins of sand as he explained how water purification worked. I wasn’t all that interested, but his white lab coat looked neat and clean. The room was huge with high ceilings and I still remember the smell of chlorine being added to the water to make it safe for consumption by the general public. The building still stands today with beautiful archways and broken glass glittering in the sunlight just off the viaduct bridge off North Main Street.

On our way home we stopped at the Public Market building where I played outside. He soon emerged carrying a huge plastic cylinder that he had purchased from Cadillac Plastics. “What’s that dad?” I would ask. “We are going to do an experiment”, he replied. At that time the water was taken from a lake, sent into settling tanks, run through sand and lime and chlorine added so that you could drink it but my dad had an idea. One day he had been sitting eating a sandwich on a dock when a smelly, oily boat tied up next to him. He thought it was terrible that even with the filtering they did they still could not get all of the oil out of the water. So he took the cylinder and filled it with all the elements of the process already in place and ran a few gallons of water with a teaspoon of oil added. After doing this multiple times he could find some oil still present in the water that we would be drinking. But then he added activated charcoal to the process.

Performing the same test the oil was no longer present. I don’t have all the formulas or specifications of the process, but I can tell you that I do remember the look of joy on my dad’s face as he told me what he had accomplished. Now, this was not a new idea, the ancient Egyptian’s all the way up to Bear Grylls have used this process but for some reason water treatment plants at his time were not deploying this time tested solution for water purification. Afterward the process would be used worldwide.

After working for the Water Department my dad went on to get a job for General Dynamics in Fort Worth. He had two good friends in life. A Chinese fellow name Billy and an odd but very sweet man named Don. Billy, he met in college and is the reason he was able to pass his math classes. Billy would encourage my dad to study hard, often alternating between sitting and standing for hours cramming for tests. My dad would become lifelong friends with Billy and his wife, who later moved to New York City. My dad would attribute much of his early success to Billy and his study skills. Then later he would meet Don, another person who would be an influence. Don was a genius. Possibly one of the deadliest designers at the time.

He was tall, skinny to the point of being gaunt and paranoid for good reason. It was on a camping trip with my dad and Don in Colorado that I would find that he had three guns on him at all times. Scared of bears I asked how we would defend ourselves? That is when he delivered a .357 from a shoulder holster beneath his jacket and two more guns from pockets. It isn’t that he particularly liked guns or even had an interest in them. Not the smaller ones anyway. But when people say, the Russians might be after me, he really meant it. He was a weapons designer. He designed missiles, rockets and one particularly nasty device that would launch over the top of enemy troops and send small projectiles cutting them to ribbons. My father said that Don worked in a “special area” of General Dynamics where a sentry stood at the door and anyone found trying to enter without the proper clearance could be shot on the spot. With a frame like Ichabod Crane he would wave his hands around wildly if my father’s jokes were too long. But despite the many who may have met their demise at the devices created by Don he was a considerate and quiet man who loved dogs and would give the shirt off his back for friends (or a .357 for bear protection)

In a lab sitting across from the windswept runway of Carswell Airforce Base my dad could see planes landing and taking off again. The roar of war planes were constantly performing for the possibility of attack with their audience, a row of ominous behemoths, whose only purpose was to bring death and destruction on an epic scale, B-52 Stratofortress’s (Nuclear Armed). Rows of them ready to take off on a moment’s notice with a one-way ticket to Russia to deliver the ultimate gift, certain doom. To see these planes, take off all at once, meant possibly the end of the world.

It was a necessary evil, a deterrent, a status quo – a sword constantly at the ready.

Now, my dad hands me a picture, it is yellowed on the edges, black and white. He is standing with another man in front of dials and in another loading a large oven looking device. “Here I am putting carbon into an adhesive and compressing it for the skin of military planes” I sat there with surprise! “So this was the early stages of stealth technologies?” – “Possibly” he said with a sly smile.

The picture showed him, young slim and handsome in his black framed glasses surrounded by all kinds of technology we might see in an old Frankenstein movie. He carefully rises from the swing. The family of raccoons now eating from cat bowls scurry back to the forest at the bottom of the yard. He goes inside and shuffles through a mess of files laid out ready to tell a story to whomever might happen by. Emerging from the house he hands me a piece of what looks like charcoal with some material bonded to it. “I could have gotten in a little trouble but I forgot this was in my drawer until years later” Seems, that in many cases absent mindedness goes along with being genius and my dad fit the absentminded scientist to a tee.

It was rough and obviously aged but what I held in my hand was a piece of history. It allowed US warplanes to slip into enemy territory undetected by radar and destroy enemy SAM (Surface to Air Missile) sites. This saved countless numbers of military lives and air wars to be over in a matter of hours rather than months. It was a material that absorbed radar and along with the profile of the plane and placement of engines made it almost invisible to the enemy. That is until it was in sight, followed shortly by a bomb that incinerated the observer and the missile battery targeted by the specter pilot.

My dad’s talents were not spent all on the doom and gloom of warfare. He also worked on the first rocket to the moon. And would be thanked by one of the Astronauts personally for his and the countless number of other scientists who worked on the Saturn V Rocket. The rocket that propelled them away from Earth to the Big Cheese in the sky. A rocket that had its predecessors as test rockets, some that would blow up into ribbons raining back to the ground for my dad and his team to collect and figure out why.

After the Vietnam War contracts for war planes would slowly disappear. Layoffs were on everyone’s mind but my dad seeing the writing on the wall got a teaching certificate and finally after surviving two layoffs was handed his slip. He had saved the company thousands and thousands of dollars, saved an untold number of American’s lives, helped put men on the moon and won two General Dynamic’s Presidents awards. But nothing could save him from the letters of R-I-F (Reduction in Force) the dreaded layoff. And with a wife and young son to support he went home to his family.

That Christmas was dismal. We were worried what to do as my dad looked for a job. We drove through the city to see the Christmas lights to try and cheer ourselves up. That is when we noticed a man sleeping on a park bench in downtown Fort Worth. It was bitter cold and all he had was newspaper, we were not sure if he was even alive. We pulled the car over and my dad went to the trunk where he had an old blanket for emergency should we ever break down on the side of the road. Back then Winters were cold and blue northers could bring a warm t-shirt and shorts kind of day to a blustery snow filled sky in a matter of hours. Handing my mom the blanket they together placed it over the man but he made no movement.

When we got home my mother was concerned and called the police to let them know there was a man who we thought may be deceased. We all kinda sat there on the big burnt orange sofa that was so much the fashion of the late seventies. That is when we decided that instead of buying each other presents for Christmas we would pool our money and buy blankets for the homeless. It was the most memorable Christmas I had until the present ones spent with our own children. We handed the blankets out across downtown. My father soon after landed a job as a middle school teacher at Irma Marsh Middle School.

I never forgot that Christmas and how grateful people were that had far less than us. I would later be hiking through Tandy Hills Park and stumble upon a homeless camp. There was no one to be seen but from the items left behind it appeared that a woman had lived in the dug out hovel. There was a Bible, pictures of two children and a makeshift stove. It was close to the Holidays and a tree nearby reminded me of a Christmas Tree we saw while driving around handing out blankets. I returned a few days later with toilet paper, first aid items, canned food and Christmas Tree ornaments. The location of the Hovel was just down the hill from a stray Mimosa Tree that stood lonely on a hill next to the highway.

As Christmas approached my mom and I piled into her big blue Lincoln and drove downtown to do some shopping. As we approached the hill where the Mimosa tree stood I could see something reflect as it caught the sunlight. It was decorated with Christmas Ornaments! The same ones that I had left at the hovel. I would later learn that the woman who had lived in the woods picked herself up, got a job at the local homeless shelter and returned annually to decorate the tree. After her passing, friends and people from the community began decorating the tree in her honor and it was aptly named The Homeless Christmas Tree. It inspired a beautiful children’s book that my wife and I now read to our children every Christmas season. The tree is now slowly disappearing, and I have always wanted to create a sculpture to put in its place. Maybe something to add to those many retirement projects that I have planned.

It is now getting late and the mosquitoes are biting. I look at my parents and they look back, it is still a warm Summer evening but a cool breeze can be felt blowing through the trees. The cacophony of cicadas chirping out their symphony is almost deafening and it is time to leave one family to return to another. I know they won’t be here forever but my parents have made a lot of lemonade from the lemons handed to them over the years and it has prepared me for the challenging times I have had in life. Times that if just seen in a different perspective can bring great things to be achieved during uncertainty. Because in the end we would never know true greatness without great struggle. Or how a poor country boy can reach for and finally grasp the stars – my dad.

0 notes

hgfstreamchats · 4 years

Text

Don’t Look Under the Bed

thenightetc 09:30 PM Hello!

highglossfinish 09:31 PM Hello there!

highglossfinish 09:32 PM Picture, sound, yes, no?

thenightetc 09:32 PM Looks good!

highglossfinish 09:32 PM Wonderful!

thenightetc 09:33 PM Oh wow

highglossfinish 09:35 PM Mmhm.

thenightetc 09:36 PM Holy shit

thenightetc 09:38 PM That was... okay that was something.

thenightetc 09:38 PM good job SNL

highglossfinish 09:40 PM It really was.

highglossfinish 09:43 PM There we are!

thenightetc 09:43 PM Yes!

thenightetc 09:44 PM "well, nothing GOOD every happens here"

highglossfinish 09:45 PM "This might as well happen."

thenightetc 09:45 PM They gave her the middle name "Bacon".

highglossfinish 09:45 PM That certainly is how 14 year olds look and sound.

highglossfinish 09:46 PM It's fine, I'm just looking for a better quality video quickly.

thenightetc 09:46 PM Whoops.

highglossfinish 09:46 PM It's fine if Crybaby Lane looks like trash, but I like this movie.

thenightetc 09:50 PM I love how every website nowadays thinks it's important enough that you should need to have a particular browser to use it.

highglossfinish 09:51 PM Got to love it.

Thebes joined the party.

thenightetc 09:52 PM Hello!

Thebes 09:52 PM Hello!

highglossfinish 09:52 PM Hello there!

thenightetc 09:53 PM It's doing the "nobody is sharing" fox

thenightetc 09:53 PM ...I can hear it, though

thenightetc 09:53 PM I'm going to reload

highglossfinish 09:54 PM Oh no, it's on my end.

thenightetc joined the party.

thenightetc 09:54 PM Oh!

highglossfinish 09:54 PM I'm buying it.

highglossfinish 09:58 PM Almost done.

highglossfinish 09:59 PM There we are, how's that?

thenightetc 09:59 PM Looks good!

highglossfinish 09:59 PM Beautiful!

thenightetc 09:59 PM It's a little quiet, though

highglossfinish 09:59 PM Better?

thenightetc 10:00 PM Yes!

highglossfinish 10:00 PM Some rather flashy things happen in this movie that deserve better definition.

highglossfinish 10:01 PM 14 years old, obviously.

thenightetc 10:02 PM Ewww, unsanitary

highglossfinish 10:02 PM What a filthy family.

thenightetc 10:03 PM oh... oh no

thenightetc 10:03 PM noooo, not the dog

Thebes 10:05 PM CONGRATS: SOMETHING IS ABOUT TO FUCK WITH YOU INCESSANTTLY

thenightetc 10:05 PM Parkour!

highglossfinish 10:06 PM What a cheerful whatever that is.

thenightetc 10:06 PM Ewwwwww.

thenightetc 10:08 PM Hopefully he doesn't actually think SHE did it, since she was in class

thenightetc 10:08 PM With him.

highglossfinish 10:08 PM He's already suspicious of her for using science in science class.

thenightetc 10:10 PM ...Oh, come on.

thenightetc 10:10 PM You couldn't not notice that the swimming pool is bright red

highglossfinish 10:11 PM It's an ugly car anyway.

thenightetc 10:11 PM At least THIS dog got down safely

thenightetc 10:13 PM Oh come on

highglossfinish 10:14 PM "How dare you be studious and thoughtful?"

thenightetc 10:15 PM Oh dear

thenightetc 10:16 PM okay, creepy

thenightetc 10:17 PM "if not you then who" why would she have that answer

Thebes 10:17 PM has he had a plan to explain how people can't see him in case he runs into someone who can?

thenightetc 10:18 PM Where did he get that

highglossfinish 10:19 PM Don't question Earring Boy.

Geist18 joined the party.

thenightetc 10:19 PM Oh dear

thenightetc 10:19 PM Ohhhh dear

highglossfinish 10:19 PM I like the 50 year old man the state mistook for a student.

Geist18 10:20 PM that man is a furry obssessed with tigers

thenightetc 10:20 PM Right?

highglossfinish 10:20 PM That man absolutely owns a tiger suit, a bedroom full of stuffed tigers, and possibly a package of adult diapers.

thenightetc 10:20 PM Even the walls are tiger striped

highglossfinish 10:21 PM He watches Zootopia pantsless.

Thebes 10:21 PM the only reason he isn't in this universe's Tiger King is no one made him aware he could illegally purchase tigers

thenightetc 10:21 PM this is not gonna convince them you're innocent

Geist18 10:21 PM i doubt he has the money to buy one lol

thenightetc 10:22 PM Is the voice... jesus?

thenightetc 10:22 PM Don't take your eyes off him!

highglossfinish 10:23 PM "Yes, very much so."

highglossfinish 10:25 PM Someone's about to lose their eyes.

thenightetc 10:25 PM nnnnope

highglossfinish 10:26 PM Ugh, that couch.

Geist18 10:27 PM dear lord thats an ugly couch

highglossfinish 10:28 PM I like how no one blames the layabout with anger issues.

thenightetc 10:29 PM Maybe they figure he's not bright enough to pull it off

highglossfinish 10:30 PM Which is a fair point.

highglossfinish 10:35 PM I love this movie.

Geist18 10:36 PM thats a cool set of armor

thenightetc 10:38 PM oh god

thenightetc 10:39 PM considering the title of the movie, I'm concerned

Geist18 10:39 PM this man has so many costumes

highglossfinish 10:39 PM Rightly so.

thenightetc 10:40 PM f

highglossfinish 10:40 PM F.

Geist18 10:40 PM f

thenightetc 10:40 PM Oh dear

thenightetc 10:41 PM oof

thenightetc 10:42 PM That doll looks so judgemental

highglossfinish 10:45 PM A boogey after my own spark.

thenightetc 10:46 PM oh man this is not gonna look good

highglossfinish 10:46 PM Not at all.

thenightetc 10:46 PM "I heard someone on the roof and I went out to check"

Geist18 10:47 PM what kind of place where roof pranks is front news??? sounds like a place that produces karens

thenightetc 10:48 PM I mean, she could tell the truth and just... edit a little.

thenightetc 10:48 PM Leave out the supernatural stuff

highglossfinish 10:48 PM She really could be making this easier on herself.

thenightetc 10:49 PM oh man

highglossfinish 10:50 PM "These two events probably aren't connected." ~Francis.

highglossfinish 10:50 PM Something something human gender roles.

thenightetc 10:52 PM Oh, ugh

thenightetc 10:53 PM "and do not follow me in there"

thenightetc 10:53 PM That is worryingly fast

highglossfinish 10:53 PM "Under no circumstances should you follow me in there. No siree. Don't do that."

Geist18 10:54 PM creeeeeepy\

thenightetc 10:54 PM "something bad like both of us turning into boogeymen"

highglossfinish 10:54 PM "To name a nonspecific example."

thenightetc 10:55 PM not awkward at all!

Geist18 10:58 PM what...what was she cooking exactly

thenightetc 10:58 PM Wouldn't her father have been cooking stuff in there just a little while ago though?

thenightetc 10:58 PM How does she think she had TIME to do all this?

Thebes 10:59 PM right?

thenightetc 11:02 PM ohhhh dear

highglossfinish 11:02 PM Hmm, it's almost like there's an obvious solution to this problem...

highglossfinish 11:02 PM There it is.

thenightetc 11:02 PM :thinking:

thenightetc 11:02 PM oh dear

Geist18 11:03 PM oh shiiit

thenightetc 11:03 PM and she can see him because it's her fault?

thenightetc 11:03 PM maybe?

Thebes 11:04 PM so many puns

highglossfinish 11:05 PM The time for you to stop being skeptical of everything was 45 minutes ago.

thenightetc 11:05 PM Yes, gravity is exactly like invisible supernatural beings.

Geist18 11:05 PM esp when ur friend is invisible to everyone else

Geist18 11:06 PM lol her parents not hearing any of this

thenightetc joined the party.

thenightetc 11:07 PM Did the picture get kind of low-res for anyone else?

Geist18 11:07 PM yeah its super low-res here

Geist18 11:08 PM omfg this dad is annoying

Geist18 11:08 PM we see knock out's tabs now

thenightetc 11:08 PM Hmmm, it's the whole picture, not just the video

thenightetc 11:08 PM Your tabs are low-res

Geist18 11:08 PM the tabs are fuzzy

thenightetc 11:08 PM I think it's cast

thenightetc 11:08 PM *kast

highglossfinish 11:08 PM Let me reload.

thenightetc 11:09 PM Oh! Much better!

thenightetc 11:09 PM I mean, resolutionwise

highglossfinish 11:09 PM Still good?

thenightetc 11:09 PM Yes!

Geist18 11:09 PM better thanx

highglossfinish 11:09 PM It had better not go low-res again, I paid six dollars for this movie.

highglossfinish 11:09 PM And by me I mean some human somewhere in the world.

thenightetc 11:10 PM Ohhh man

highglossfinish 11:11 PM Let me know if it does it again.

Geist18 11:11 PM oooh giant moldy sandwich

thenightetc 11:11 PM Oh, ugh, that sandwich

thenightetc 11:12 PM Oh.

highglossfinish 11:12 PM Mmhmm.

Geist18 11:12 PM uuugh sqquish noises

Geist18 11:13 PM i appreciate that the movie makers built a large moldy sandwich for this movie

highglossfinish 11:13 PM True dedication.

Geist18 11:13 PM cool vfx

thenightetc 11:14 PM SO all that stuff about her being "mature for her age" was foreshadowing

highglossfinish 11:15 PM For a Disney channel original movie that aired circa 199something, they really did go all out.

Geist18 11:16 PM nooo

Geist18 11:16 PM PUN

Geist18 11:17 PM squish

Geist18 11:18 PM get the damn kid out of the bag

Thebes 11:18 PM ikr

thenightetc 11:18 PM ikr

Geist18 11:18 PM he'll instant believe and larry will be okay

highglossfinish 11:19 PM That was dark.

thenightetc 11:19 PM man

Geist18 11:21 PM oh gross

thenightetc 11:21 PM "I'm okay, but I'm not happy!"

thenightetc 11:24 PM Yyyyyup

thenightetc 11:26 PM Huh

highglossfinish 11:26 PM I'm surprised they didn't blame her for what's happening in Centerville.

thenightetc 11:26 PM Heh.

Geist18 11:29 PM boooo ending

Geist18 11:29 PM BOOOO

thenightetc 11:29 PM Uh...

Geist18 11:29 PM triple boooo

Thebes 11:29 PM whaaaaat

highglossfinish 11:30 PM "Except it does. That's what we're saying."

highglossfinish 11:30 PM "Adults don't have time for friendship and whimsy, Francis! They have too many spreadsheets!"

highglossfinish 11:31 PM Your nonbinary boogey literally tried to drop him off a cliff, Francis.

Geist18 11:32 PM thx for hosting!

highglossfinish 11:32 PM Anytime!

thenightetc 11:32 PM That was fun!

highglossfinish 11:32 PM Glad you liked!

Geist18 11:32 PM it gave me something to do on a lonely night, so thanks!

Thebes 11:32 PM BECAUSE OF COURSE THEY'D END WITH THIS SONG

highglossfinish 11:32 PM It's a charming movie if you ignore the last few minutes.

Geist18 11:32 PM it is

Thebes 11:32 PM it's sweet~

thenightetc 11:32 PM It really is

thenightetc 11:33 PM I'd never even heard of this; thanks for showing it to us

highglossfinish 11:33 PM Thank you for coming!

Geist18 11:33 PM is there another movie night next week

highglossfinish 11:34 PM Every other week.

Geist18 11:34 PM sounds good

Geist18 11:34 PM what time do u start, which timezone

highglossfinish 11:35 PM Usually around 9, EST.

Thebes 11:35 PM SHARK FRIEND

thenightetc 11:35 PM Om nom nom!

thenightetc 11:36 PM HA

thenightetc 11:37 PM Uh oh!

thenightetc 11:38 PM Graaaaace.

highglossfinish 11:38 PM Silly Grace!

highglossfinish 11:39 PM This game seems awful.

thenightetc 11:40 PM Let's make our OWN island!

highglossfinish 11:40 PM With blackjack and hookers!

Thebes 11:40 PM this can only lead to success

thenightetc 11:41 PM Oh, you could make one that SURROUNDS an island!

highglossfinish 11:41 PM I love when games give him the option to write things.

thenightetc 11:45 PM In the ocean

thenightetc 11:47 PM A godawful eyesore? Perish the thought.

highglossfinish 11:47 PM Hah!

Geist18 11:48 PM bye everyone, have a good night

thenightetc 11:48 PM Goodnight!

highglossfinish 11:48 PM Good night!

thenightetc 11:50 PM Heh.

Thebes 11:52 PM anomalies is a word for it. but is it the RIGHT word.

thenightetc 11:52 PM It's fiiiiiine

highglossfinish 11:53 PM Go, child bucket, go!

thenightetc 11:54 PM Hahhahaha

thenightetc 11:55 PM My god

thenightetc 11:56 PM Brutal.

highglossfinish 11:58 PM What a horrible game.

thenightetc 11:59 PM amazing

highglossfinish 11:59 PM Majestic.

Thebes 11:59 PM glorious

highglossfinish 11:59 PM That's all I've got!

thenightetc 12:00 AM Hey, I don't suppose you play Among Us at all...?

highglossfinish 12:00 AM I've heard of it. Should I be?

thenightetc 12:00 AM You SHOULD. It's amazing.

thenightetc 12:01 AM https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YTZ-GZPTND8

Thebes 12:01 AM Betray and lie to your friends for fun!

highglossfinish 12:02 AM It'll be just like the good old days aboard the Nemesis!

highglossfinish 12:03 AM Alright, I definitely need to look into this.

thenightetc 12:03 AM :)

Thebes 12:03 AM there's an honest ttrailer for it too

thenightetc 12:04 AM I'm heard playing with random people isn't especially good, but with a group of friends it's amazing.

highglossfinish 12:06 AM Oh yes, we're all doing this.

thenightetc 12:06 AM :D

thenightetc 12:06 AM https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YIvgy93qWYs

thenightetc 12:08 AM While it will let you play with as few as four people or as many as ten, I think 6-8 is the sweet spot

highglossfinish 12:11 AM I think we can manage that.

highglossfinish 12:11 AM For now, thank you for coming!

thenightetc 12:11 AM And thank you for hosting!

thenightetc 12:11 AM Goodnight :)

highglossfinish 12:11 AM Good night!

0 notes

chocolatequeennk · 7 years

Text

To Bring Them Home, 4/6

Losing Rose only a month after they bonded hurt more than the Doctor could have imagined. Then he discovered he’d lost more than he’d realised, and he was determined to bring them home–Rose and their unborn baby. But how could he do that, without two universes collapsing?

Ten x Rose, pregnancy fic

In which we discover why this fic is tagged Nine/Rose on the archives...

This story is part of The Course of True Love, following With This Ring.

This was written for the Doomsday month prompts on @legendslikestardust and @doctorroseprompts, and the drabble prompt “undone.”

Betaed by @lastbluetardis.

AO3 | FF.NET | TSP | Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3

The Doctor’s hearts raced with desperate hope as he strode through the TARDIS to the library. “The answer has to be here somewhere,” he muttered to himself as he sat down at his desk, piled high with books on trans-dimensional travel. He’d read them all in the months since losing Rose, but hopefully a second (or thirtieth or fortieth) look would yield better results.

He raked his hand through his hair as he opened the first volume. “Not hopefully,” he corrected. “I will find the answer. Because I’m not leaving Rose to go through an alien pregnancy without knowing what to expect, and I won’t leave my child to grow up without a father.”

The Doctor flipped through the book quickly, his eyes darting back and forth over every page, scouring the text for the single line that would tell him how to bring Rose home. He scowled when he read each warning against attempting trans-dimensional travel alone, and when he got to the end of the book without learning anything new, he tossed it on the floor and picked up the next one.

And that was his life for the next two weeks. Reading, studying, rereading, and cursing the authors who insisted he couldn’t go through the Void on his own. He only left the library to use the toilet, typically stopping by the galley to make a sandwich on his way back.

When his eyes were too tired and gritty to continue reading, he would move the short distance from the desk to the couch and collapse into an exhausted slumber for a few hours. His tie had been discarded on the second day and his oxford was half-untucked from his trousers. A scratchy layer of stubble covered his face, but he refused to break from his pattern of reading, eating, and sleeping. There would be time for rest when Rose came home.

His mood worsened as the pile of rejected books on the floor grew, and when the last book offered no magical solution, he slammed it shut and threw it across the room. It hit the wall next to the fireplace with a satisfying thunk, then fell on the floor.

The Doctor shoved back from his desk and rubbed at his weary eyes. Two weeks of work, dozens of books, and nothing—not even a hint of how he might manage to break the laws of physics and travel through the Void on his own. He didn’t have a way to bring Rose and their baby home.

He sat up straight as a stray thought crept into his mind. Unless…

The Doctor leapt to his feet and paced in front of the fireplace, ignoring the book lying on the floor, pages fanned out. He knew where he could find a gap big enough to take the TARDIS across the Void—or more specifically, he knew when he could find a gap.

All he had to do was pilot his ship back to a time before Canary Wharf, go through the Void, and hop forward to just after Rose fell. Then, once she was on the TARDIS, they could go back far enough to be able to make it safely through the Void again.

He pressed his tongue to the back of his teeth as he considered the plan. Strictly speaking, he would be crossing his own timeline. But as long as he didn’t show up at the Pete’s World Torchwood while his past self was there with Jake and Pete, he reckoned it would be all right. Safe enough, anyway—safer than Rose would be if he left her there alone.

His vision greyed out for a moment when he sensed the impending paradox. If he picked Rose up before she even found out she was pregnant, then she wouldn’t be in Pete’s World for him to talk to, and he wouldn’t realise she was pregnant and decide to find a way to go through and bring them home.

The Doctor grabbed onto the mantel until his vision cleared, then spun away from the fireplace. “I don’t care what the universe says,” he growled as he stalked out of the library. “I’m the Doctor, the last of the Time Lords, and I am not leaving Rose and our baby on their own in a parallel universe. It’s taken me all these years to realise the laws of time are mine, and they will obey me!”

The TARDIS rocked in the temporal turbulence as timelines swirled and broke around her, but the Doctor didn’t sway from his decision. An exhilarating sensation of power and control swept over him as he strode through the corridors. This was what he was always meant to be—the Time Lord Victorious, ruler and arbiter of Time itself.

The Doctor was abruptly aware that the TARDIS had been leading him in circles, instead of letting him get to the console room. “Oh no you don’t,” he growled, slapping his hand on the coral wall. “I’ve served Time my whole life, and now Time can serve me.”

The corridor didn’t shift.

“Let me out of here!” the Doctor roared. He shook his fists at the ceiling. “I’m going to get Rose back, and I don’t care what you think about it.”

The TARDIS remained implacable, but the sympathetic note in her hum created the first fissure in the Doctor’s defiance.

“I have to… I need…” His voice cracked, and he swallowed hard before shouting, “Rose needs me!”

The air in front of him flickered, and then a projection of Rose appeared out of thin air. The Doctor stumbled back, his hearts seizing when he saw her image.

“This is Bad Wolf Programme One,” she said clearly. “The TARDIS and I decided to call them that because I’m leaving these messages to keep you safe, my Doctor.”

When Rose smiled and pushed her hair back over her ear, the Doctor saw her ring sparkling on her finger. A sob caught in his throat when he realised she’d taken time out of their honeymoon to leave these messages for him. Knowing that even in the middle of their happiest time, she’d loved him enough to prepare for his deepest sorrow made him miss her more than he already did.

Rose’s eyes softened and she looked directly at him. “I don’t know what has happened to take me from you. I don’t know how long we had, but if you’re listening to this message, I suspect it isn’t as long as we should have had. I’m sorry, love. I’m so sorry I couldn’t stay with you for my forever, like I promised.”

In the Doctor’s mind, his end of the broken blond clamoured to connect with his mate. He clenched his hands into fists, trying to resist the instinct to dive into Rose’s mind. She wasn’t really there, and the failed attempt would only make the ache worse.

His efforts distracted him from her words, and when he paid attention again, she had a smirk on her face. “And I bet you’re fussing and moaning now—typical.”

The Doctor laughed weakly.

“The TARDIS has activated this message because you’re planning something dangerous in an attempt to get me back. You can’t do it, Doctor.” She shook her head. “I know you miss me, and I know that wherever I am, I miss you, too. But you have to be careful, and you have to be safe.”

Her voice broke, and the Doctor wished he could brush away the tears gathering in her eyes. “I broke the laws of time once to get back someone I love, and my punishment was to see you be taken by Reapers. Don’t make me watch that again, Doctor—please.”

The raw pleading in her voice cut through the Doctor’s madness. Breaking the laws of time as he’d planned would almost certainly have triggered another visit from the Reapers. And this time, there wouldn’t have been a Pete Tyler who could step in and cauterise the wound by dying in his place.

Two lonely tears tracked down Rose’s face, and she wiped them away and cleared her throat. “I want you safe, my Doctor,” she repeated. “Protected even from yourself.”

Even though he hated what she was telling him, the Doctor felt a spark of happiness at her words, too. He’d forgotten how well Rose knew him, and how loved that made him feel.

“I love you, Doctor,” she said, as if she’d managed to read his mind, even from months in the past. “Never forget that.” She smiled sadly at him, then the image flickered and disappeared.

“No,” the Doctor moaned. He stretched his arm out, but Rose wasn’t there—she’d never been there. How many times will I have to watch her vanish in front of me? His throat closed up, and he turned slowly from the spot where he’d seen her hologram and walked away.

The TARDIS buzzed in the back of his head, and he wasn’t surprised when a door appeared—a very familiar door. The Doctor took a deep breath, and for the first time in four months, he entered the bedroom he’d shared with Rose.

Everything was exactly as they had left it. Looking at the bed, covers tidied but still obviously slept in, the Doctor remembered waking up that morning with Rose in his arms. Her happiness as she awakened had blended with his own until the sheer joy of the moment had taken his breath away.

Unshed tears burned in his eyes, but he refused to turn away from the memories. As he undressed, he remembered soft kisses slowly becoming passionate, the way Rose had rolled onto her back and urged him to move on top of her, her cries as they’d made love.

His hands stilled on his zip. Was that when their baby had been conceived? Rose couldn’t have been pregnant for more than a few days before she was taken from him—he would have detected the change in her hormones as soon as the embryo was successfully implanted in her uterus.

He bit his lip and forced the thought aside. All that really mattered was that a child had been created out of their love. A child who was now trapped in a parallel universe with Rose.

The Doctor’s breathing grew ragged as he finally tumbled onto the bed. Rose’s scent surrounded him, and he reached for her pillow, wrapping his arms around it and letting his tears fall. He was tired enough and his mind missed Rose enough that he could almost imagine her hands running through his hair, soothing him as he wept. Imagined or not, the sensation relaxed him, and he soon fell asleep.

oOoOoOoOo

Rose leaned back in her office chair and rubbed at her forehead, in between her eyes. She’d been staring at the report on the dimension hoppers for hours. Torchwood’s habit of appropriating tech they didn’t understand had made the dimension cannon project a nightmare. They had the hoppers, but no one actually knew how they worked—and until they figured that out, they couldn’t build on the design.

She glanced out at London, wincing when she realised it was dark enough that the sun must have set hours ago. Oh, Mum won’t be happy. Jackie had been complaining about the long hours Rose was working, claiming it wasn’t good for the baby.

As if they could sense the direction her thoughts were going, the baby shifted and kicked slightly. Rose chuckled and rested her hand on her belly. You’re made of stronger stuff than that, aren’t you little one? She rubbed a circle over her stomach, and the baby’s movements slowed. You’ve got stardust in your veins, don’t you? We just need to find your daddy so we can be out there in the stars like we’re supposed to be.

Rose felt something in her temple a moment later. She would have dismissed it, except it didn’t feel like the same twinge of pain that still lingered from the broken bond. This was more like… like the jolt you got from a mild electrical current.

It wasn’t a new sensation, and Rose furrowed her brows as she tried to remember when she’d felt it before. It happened again, just as she landed on the memory, and she gasped in amazement.

The baby was attempting telepathic contact.

Rose closed her eyes and reached out for the fledgling telepathic mind that had connected with her own. Are you there? She held her breath, and a moment later, the baby’s mind hesitantly brushed against her own.

Tears rolled unchecked down Rose’s cheeks as she cradled her child’s mind to her for the first time. The baby couldn’t communicate in words, but Rose could feel a question as the infant mind continued reaching. Her heart ached when she realised what the baby was looking for—or rather, who they were looking for.

Your daddy isn’t here, little one, she explained. But as soon as we can, we’re going to find our way home to him.

Rose remembered a moment standing at the door of the TARDIS with the Doctor as they floated in space. They were on the edge of a nebula, and the light had spun around them.

That’s where we belong, sweetheart, she told her child. And we’ll be back there one day, I promise.

oOoOoOoOo

“But I’ve seen it in comics,” Mickey protested. “People go hopping from one alternative world to another. It’s easy.”

The Doctor rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. “Not in the real world.”

He sighed and leaned back against one of the TARDIS struts. “It used to be easy,” he admitted. “When the Time Lords kept their eye on everything, you could hop between realities, home in time for tea. Then they died, and took it all with them. The walls of reality closed; the worlds were sealed. Everything became that bit less kind.”

The Doctor burrowed closer to Rose’s pillow as he woke up, silently cursing his subconscious. He really hadn’t needed the reminder that it was his own fault he couldn’t bring Rose home. If he hadn’t killed them all…

He groaned and tossed the covers back, then got out of bed and shuffled into the ensuite. Now that he was rested, he couldn’t stand the dirty, itchy feeling of not having bathed in weeks. He grimaced at his reflection—had he really been planning to go get Rose looking like that?

You were a little mad, he told himself as he climbed into the shower.

The hot water stimulated his brain cells, and his mind went back to the conversation he’d dreamed about. He’d always known, really, that there was no way to safely break through the Void. He’d known a year ago when he told Mickey it was impossible, he’d known months ago when Rose had disappeared with Pete to the parallel universe, and he’d known two weeks ago when he’d realised she was pregnant.

That was it, then, he realised as he scrubbed his body clean. Unless he could find another member of a pan-dimensional species who could hold a wormhole through the Void open on this end while he went through to Rose… but as far as he knew, he was the last pan-dimensional being left in this universe.

There used to be dozens of pan-dimensional species, along with the Time Lords. But they had all been wiped out by the Time War, or they had left the prime universe to take refuge in other parallel universes and had never returned. With the Time Lords gone, that left only him.

The Doctor froze in the middle of shampooing his hair, only moving when suds started dripping into his eyes. He shifted back under the water, and his mind raced as he rinsed the shampoo down the drain.

Only him, but he wasn’t only him, was he?

For the first time in months, real hope burned in his hearts. It was a crazy idea, and would certainly bend the rules regarding crossing your own timeline, but that was a rule he’d broken more than once, and never with any dire consequences.

It was time to get help from the one person as devoted to Rose Tyler’s health and happiness as he was—himself.

#ficandchips #ten x rose #doctorroseprompts #legendslikestardust #dwfic #cq's fic: to bring them home #series: the course of true love #angst #pregnancy fic #reunion fic #eventually #we finally see hope at the end of this chapter!#doomsday month #fic by Nancy

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