#so if last he was there was before the 6 months future trip.. well;

[lavenderspence]

To Lean On You | Spencer Reid

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Content Warning: post prison!Spencer, mentions of addiction, prison talk (typical for the prison arc), gun use, mentions of death, suggestive themes, idiots in love, angst, so much angst.

Word Count: 8.6K

Summary: You and Spencer wasted years, truths hidden, feelings uncertain, and a fear of the unrequited. It took ten weeks, isolated, silent, and broken, for the realization to strike. There was no life, if you didn’t have each other. 

A/N: It’s finally here! Wow, writing this was a wild ride, honestly. Over a month of writing, blood, sweat, and tears poured over it (there were in fact some tears). This is also the first thing I’ve written in 3 years and I'm very happy to finally be out of my slump. It's probably the angstiest thing I've written ever, and at the same time, I feel like it's not the greatest, but deep down, I still love it, haha. Let me know if I've missed any warnings. And, enjoy and any feedback is appreciated. <3

Here are some of the songs I listened to while writing this if you want to get into the mood:

Hearts by Jessie Ware

The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived by Taylor Swift

Lost Without You by Freya Ridings

In This Shirt by The Irresponssibles

masterlist

79 days, 3 hours, and 27 minutes - that’s how long it’s been since he got arrested in Mexico.

70 days, 6 hours, and 13 minutes since you saw him being pulled out of the courtroom after he was deemed a flight risk and denied bail. 70 days, 6 hours, and 13 minutes have passed since you last saw him.

65 days, 7 hours, and 11 minutes, since he was transferred to Millburn Correctional Facility, and this whole nightmare, had started. 

Per Penelope’s carefully crafted schedule, every team member has made numerous trips to visit Spencer - every member except you. You’d only made one trip out, and that had been 3 days after he’d been transferred.

March 4th, 2017

It’s been 8 days since you saw him led in cuffs out of that courtroom, where Penelope had broken down in Luke’s arms, everyone too shocked to make a sound. He’d looked back, his eyes meeting yours briefly, and it had been as if you’d almost seen your reflection in the mirror, every emotion had run between you both in a matter of seconds. 

Shock, you’d almost been sure they would grant bail, and you’d be able to take him home. Almost. 

Fear, for his future and his well-being. Fear of the uncertain. 

Desperation, the desire to run to him and take him into your arms, finally, and to not let go. 

Except you’d held his gaze for as long as you could before you’d looked down and turned your head to save him from seeing you break down in tears. You’d made a hasty escape after that, not sparing any of your teammates a glance, and walked out of the courthouse, stopping by a tree outside. The urge to curl up into a ball and hide, pretending none of this had happened, was strong, and then a hand wrapped around your shoulder. You had turned around, only to see Rossi and one of his sad little smiles, the ones you rarely saw.

“It’s going to be okay,” he’d said, squeezing your shoulder. ”The kid is strong.”

You’d sniffled, trying to hide the tears in your voice. “Yeah, well, I’m not sure I am," you’d whispered in despair. 

You were better than you had been 8 days ago, calmer. Although still heartbroken, you were looking forward to seeing him, seeing with your eyes that he was okay. Garcia had seen him, 2 days ago, before you’d been sent out on a case.  

“He looks good. I mean, as good as that big genius brain of his can look in prison. His eyes were sad though, really, really sad.” She’d paused as if to assure herself it would be alright, “I’m sure he’s looking forward to seeing you, sweetness.” She’d squeezed your hand, but her statement hadn’t rung true. 

Your hands were shaking, you weren’t sure what from. The anticipation you’d felt? The nerves? Or the words you had a hard time coming to terms with.

“I’m sorry, but your name isn’t on Spencer Reid’s approved visitor list,” the guard at the checkpoint had said after rechecking the list. 

“There has to be a mistake, I made an appointment,” you insisted, feeling yourself unravel. It wasn’t possible, you knew for a fact you were on that list, Emily had made sure of that.

“Look, lady. There are only 10 names on that list, and yours is not one of them. Now, you need to move, because there are people here waiting to see their loved ones.” you’d hiccuped and turned around, walking to the lockers to unlock your gun, badge, and phone. 

“I’m here to see a loved one.” You’d wanted to scream, but you knew it would have been futile. There wasn’t anything you could do at that moment. 

You walked to your car, dialing Emily’s number, “This is Prentiss.”  

For a second, only your breathing could be heard over the sound of the wind, and then a tiny sniffle. You wiped at your eyes and nose, and then spoke up, barely, “Why am I not on Spencer’s approved visitor list?” 

“What do you mean? Every member of this team is on the list. So is his lawyer and Diana, even Derek,” you could hear the surprise in her voice, yet you couldn’t keep calm any longer.

"They refused to let me see him! I made the appointment, Emily, and I came, hoping I’d finally see him hear his voice, and ask him-” Your voice broke mid-sentence, and after taking a deep breath, you continued, “Ask him if he was okay, and I was denied because out of the 10 names on that list, it seems mine’s not one of them.” You finished defeated, barely above a whisper.

All was silent for the moment, save for what you could hear was Penelope’s voice on the other end of the line, quietly asking what was going on, “Let me call Fiona and the warden, and I’ll see what happened. Meanwhile, I need you back here, because we just got a case.” Her voice wasn’t leaving anything up for discussion. Still, you couldn’t go, not until you saw him. 

“Emily-” she cut you off.

“It’s not a discussion. I’ll resolve this, but I need you here and your head in the game. Am I clear?” Her voice was stern, but maybe that’s exactly what you needed. Maybe.

“Yeah, clear. I’m on my way back.” You took a deep breath and started the car and the journey back to Quantico, but your mind stayed right there, on the bars that kept you away from the one thing you held dearest. 

As it turns out, there was nothing the warden or Fiona could do. Even Emily Prentiss, Unit Chief of the BAU, couldn't “resolve” the situation. Days, weeks, and months passed, and for 70 days you couldn’t see him, isolated out, not even knowing why.

“-to be in the courthouse in one.” You snapped out of your thoughts, only catching the end of the sentence, digging the heels of your hands into your eyes. You were tired, and it had little to do with the fact that you had been up all night, going over all the evidence with the team and tracing Lindsey Vaughan’s steps to a T in an attempt to exonerate Spencer and finally bring him home. 

You were exhausted, both physically and mentally. You’d been up for more than 24 hours now, but then you hadn’t been sleeping all that well to begin with. Every single night was spent wondering how Spencer was doing, and every time you closed your eyes, you saw him in that cell in Mexico. 

His eyes were red, high out of his mind, barely coherent, dirty, and injured - a far cry from the person you were used to seeing every single day - energetic, passionate, and brilliant. After 12 years, if there was one image you wished to erase from your memory, it was this one. Not all the blood you’ve seen spilled, every victim, be it men, women, or even children, all the horrors of the job, but this. Maybe it made you a bad person, but there was nothing worse than seeing the one person you held dearest at their lowest and not being able to do anything to stop it.

Every waking hour that you weren’t on the job was spent wondering how he was doing and if he was okay. If he was healthy, unharmed, and safe, or as safe as an FBI agent could be in prison. But most of all, the one thing that had kept you up at night, slowly destroying your sanity and making you question everything, had been the one question you couldn’t seem to get an answer to. 

“Why doesn’t he want to see me?”

You’d asked everyone and had waited with battered breath for an answer, a clarification on the matter, and it never came. As shocked as you had been at the notion that you wouldn’t be seeing Spencer for an indefinite amount of time, your team had been even more shocked. They knew the kind of relationship you and Spencer had, how close you’d become over the years, and how much you relied on each other. 

You’d asked every team member, you’d asked yourself, you’d even asked Spencer in a few of the letters you wrote to him, and then there had come a point where you just stopped. 

You were torturing yourself more than enough, day after day, and every single night, asking yourself a question you wouldn’t get an answer to. Not as long as he was locked up in that hellhole and you were out here, trying to keep together the pieces of something, that was on the verge of breaking. 

You felt a hand taking hold of yours, and for a second, you tensed up. Pulled out of your thoughts, you looked up and were met with chocolate brown eyes, full of worry - Emily’s eyes. 

You glanced around the room, only to realize it was empty, save for the two of you. You hadn’t felt when the others had left, that’s how deep in thought you had been. 

“Where did you go? I’ve been calling your name for a while now,” she spoke gently, squeezing your hand. If you were honest, that’s the first time she asked you anything about the situation. You’d spent weeks suffering in silence and trying to pretend that you weren’t slowly dying on the inside. 

You briefly thought about lying, it wouldn’t be the first lie you’d told since Spencer had been incarcerated, but you didn’t have it in you to hide anymore. 

And so, for the first time since Spencer’s hearing, you told the truth.

“Nothing makes sense anymore, Em,” it left you in a whisper, “I’m barely holding it together. I feel like I’m drowning sometimes, and just when I breach the surface, I’m pulled back in. My mind, it’s...I question everything, all the time. My mornings start with thoughts about him, and my nights end with tears over him, over this entire…this nightmare. I keep waiting for my alarm to go off, to wake up and realize that this has been a plot of my imagination, some cruel joke my mind has conjured, designed to show me... "Your eyes welled with tears, prepared to admit something you should have long ago. Emily gave your hand another squeeze, prompting you to continue, and so you did, admitting it for the first time aloud. 

“Designed to show me that I can’t live a life that doesn’t have Spencer in it.” You wiped at your eyes, willing your tears at bay. When you dared to look up, you were met with the eyes of the only other person besides Spencer who has been a constant rock in your life for the last 11 years. What you saw in her eyes then wasn’t surprise like you’d thought, but relief. It took you a moment to fully read her, but it was like a switch had gone off when you finally did. 

“But you’re not surprised to hear this, are you?” you smiled sadly, a light laugh leaving you. 

“I wouldn’t be a good friend if I didn’t have my suspicions, and I’d be an even worse profiler,” she smiled at you, “Plus, there are some feelings that you just can’t hide,” you blinked, and then you blinked again. You hadn’t come right out and said it, and yet she knew, she somehow knew. 

“I didn’t mean it like that.” you tried to backtrack, but you knew it was a losing battle. Emily knew you well enough to smell your bullshit from miles.

“That’s exactly how you meant it, and don’t even try to deny it. I see it every damn day. It’s how you leave the room whenever you hear someone talk about visiting Spencer. You don’t want to hear how he’s doing because you wouldn’t believe it, not unless you see him with your own eyes. But you can’t, so you’ve resigned yourself to the torture of not knowing instead of giving yourself the smallest amount of peace by asking. You’ve been suffering in silence for almost three months, too stubborn to say anything, thinking you were doing yourself a favor. And what for? You’re crying yourself to sleep every night and coming to work the next morning, pretending everything is fine when clearly it’s not. You think you’re fooling everyone, but the only person you’re tricking is yourself. And how’s that working out for you?” she had a point, and it’s not like you weren’t aware of that fact. You knew what you were doing wasn’t okay or healthy. You had the most stable support system imaginable to get you through the hardest parts. It was hard, though, especially when the person who was suffering the most was the person who’d taken your heart with him. 

“Way to call me out, boss.” you were just about ready to end the conversation, you couldn’t take any more of this. You’d promised each other long ago that you wouldn’t profile each other but you had a feeling that was exactly what Emily was doing right now. Maybe not on purpose, and with every good intention imaginable, but you didn’t want that. You didn’t want one of your best friends to try to understand you based on behavioral analysis right after you’d spilled your soul out to her. 

“Just calling it the way I see it, someone has to,” she smiled, but then she shook her head a little before continuing. “What I want to know is why you didn’t say something earlier. You know I would have been there to listen, and so would have the team.” Damn, Emily Prentiss.

You didn’t have to think hard about it, you’ve been ruminating over everything for days. You were trying not to, but whenever your mind wasn’t focused on a case or the many drinking nights spent in Penelope’s purple adobe, that was where your mind would take you.

“Out of fear, I think,” you started, unsure for a second, still nervous to admit it. It wasn’t exactly what she was asking, but it was a start, “I was afraid, and I still am. I’ve been baiting myself into thinking it was just some sort of fondness, a little stronger than that which you feel towards a friend, and far lesser than what it actually is. I thought that if I didn’t say anything, I could go on lying to myself, and nothing would have to change, we wouldn’t have to change. Because words hold meaning, and an admission like that holds weight. What would I have done if it was just me who felt like this? I would have ruined the one thing we’ve both cherished for over a decade.” It felt good to finally say all of this out loud instead of holding it inward. But then again, Emily always knew when you'd had enough. 

She’d told you time and time again the same thing Hotch had asked of her when she returned to duty after faking her death: “Let me know when you are having a bad day.”. Honestly, you’d held off long enough, and so had she. It was a whole miracle she hadn’t pressed you about your behavior earlier. 

“That’s not what I was asking,” you said, shaking your head with a smile to let her know that you weren’t done speaking. 

“Everyone was suffering as a result of what happened in Mexico, what I was feeling wasn’t any different, Emily.” You were flippant about it, you always have been. You preferred isolating yourself and hiding everything instead of seeking a shoulder to bear the weight of what you felt. 

“Our sadness came from the fact that our friend was framed. And yours? That’s different.” 

“It isn’t,” she scoffed, getting up. Now you really felt like you were about to get scolded like a child.

“Yes, it is. God, you and Spencer are the same. It’s like I’m looking at his doppelganger without the whole… IQ of 187. You share some of the worst qualities a person can have,” you laughed at that, “You are both changeophobes-” you cut her off

“Metathesiophobia, fear of change.” She only raised her hand at you, as if to say, “See, you even sound like him,” which made you laugh even more. 

“You close yourselves off after a sad or traumatic experience, silently hoping you’d be able to get through the worst of it on your own. Most of the time, it’s evident that’s not the case. You only ask for help when you’ve reached rock bottom or have no other choice, but you’ve had a choice from the get-go. Your stubbornness even stems from the same anxieties, it’s infuriating,” she seemed to calm down then, in defeat maybe, or she hadn’t been mad, to begin with, she sat down again. 

“My point is, it shouldn’t have taken you learning that he might be coming home today to tell me all of this. I’ve known for a long time that there was something far more than platonic friendship on your end. You shouldn’t have tortured yourself since his trial to try to put the puzzle pieces together. You aren’t late, you have all the time in the world to say what you feel and what you want, and rejection shouldn’t be a factor, believe me. You need to make peace with that fear because Spencer is coming home today. And whether you are ready or not, you both need to have a serious conversation.” You appreciated her determination about Spencer being released, but then again, you had more than circumstantial evidence to support the fact that he was innocent. But, as always, Emily was right. He was coming home today, and after months of not seeing each other, there were a lot of things you needed to say. 

“I know. Thank you, Emily, for everything,” you whispered, squeezing her tight. 

Spencer’s POV

The first breath of fresh air after being on the inside for months felt far more overwhelming than he thought it would be. Being in charge of your being and your responses and emotions felt almost unnatural like the feeling of it didn’t belong to him. The sound of the wind and the traffic, people’s voices, and even the simple act of getting comfortable in the leather seats of the jet overwhelmed any ability to concentrate and think straight. 

In itself, it was strange. The prison was loud, the prison commissary at breakfast, lunch, and dinner was a cacophony of prisoners talking, cells being opened, and guards barking orders. The yard was loud too, although, in the middle of nowhere, nature could still be heard - the sounds of trees and the lone birds, if he had to guess a mix of Mourning Dove and Field Sparrow. Their songs were soothing most of the time, a welcome distraction from the usual noises around him. 

Without the atmosphere he’d gotten used to and subjected to all of those sounds and people whose presence he found comforting before, he now felt almost out of place. He wanted to feel at peace, he wanted to feel free, and although he technically was, his mind was more trapped than he’d actually been in that 2 by 2 cell in cellblock C.

He kept replaying some of the hardest moments from his time in, every threat, every punch he’d gotten, and the phantom feel of the fists connecting. Luis’ blood on his hands, the smell of bleach incorporated with the drugs, the tip of the sharpened toothbrush embedding into his thigh. All he’d done to survive, harm, and more harm, only to make it out alive. 

He barely recognized himself. He’d deliberately ignored looking at himself in the small plastic mirror in his cell, for fear of seeing what he’d had to become. Gone was the Spencer who’d use his brain to get out of situations, whose obliviousness more often than not helped to balance his intellect with the socially acceptable. Gone was the bubbly personality of a kid excited to share a plethora of facts with his friends. 

In his place sat a man, tormented by the reality of the hatred felt towards him. The reality of being a pawn in a game whose complexity could have been his downfall. A man whose genius, as much of a blessing, could sometimes be a curse. A man who had felt too much and was made to experience far more loss than his quaint heart was able to take. In the end, he kept losing, be it his father, by no choice of his own. His mentor, at the hands of a killer’s insanity. His friends and loved ones, hoping for a better life or his freedom, made to rot in a place he didn’t deserve to be in. 

Some would doubt that he had anything at all left to lose. All in all, how much more could the scrawny twelve-year-old child prodigy, left to survive in a public high school, take? 

His mind had been plagued by that question for years. He’d thought about that more than he’d like to admit. After every loss, there’d been a split moment where he’d asked himself what was next. What would be the next thing life would take from him? And every time, he’d had to wonder if, next time, life wouldn’t reach for the one thing he couldn’t allow to be taken from him. The one thing that, were he to lose, he’d never recover. He had hoped, sometimes prayed, that after everything he’d seen, everything he’d lived through, this would be the one thing that’d be spared. 

Locked in that cage, he’d tried even harder to ensure that there wouldn’t be another loss in his life - not anymore. Be it good or bad, he’d done everything. For 70 days, he’d had to assure himself he was doing what he thought was right, and what he wasn’t saying, he’d be forgiven for. He’d had to dodge questions and see the disappointment in his friend’s eyes, and when that wasn’t enough of a burden to bring all of his anxieties to the surface, he’d resigned himself to reading the words of the person he was doing all of this for - you. 

He’d reread every letter to the point where the edges of the papers were worn out, even though he’d known the contents by heart on the first read. He tortured himself by looking at your handwriting, analyzing the slanting of the words and the pressure of the pen. The little stains on the paper, he didn’t have to be a genius to know, were your tears. It broke his heart, to know he was causing you this much pain. He didn’t need to be there to see it, he felt it through your words.

He often questioned if it was worth it, if he was protecting you, or himself, or maybe even what you were or weren’t.

Even now, the weight of your words sat heavily on his mind, and right by his heart, in the pocket of his jacket, he felt the weight of the 9 letters you wrote. 

As he looked over from the little window of the jet, he couldn’t help but wonder if, in his desire to shield you from everything, he hadn’t gone too far. Ultimately, was he going to be forgiven, or be forced to pick up the pieces of the reality broken by his own doing?

“Don’t do that.” JJ’s gentle voice startled him from the overwhelming nature of his thoughts. She’d spent the last 30 minutes since they boarded silently observing him, waiting for him to pick up a conversation. But he’d decided to stay num. 

In every twitch of his fingers, in his desire to get comfortable but being unable to, she could see that he was restless. If she had to guess, his mind was much the same. 

“Do what?”

She gave him a look, one, had he not known her long enough, he might have been offended by. Clearly, she was offended herself, watching him play the clueless card. 

“Spence, I don’t need to profile you to know that your mind’s running a thousand miles a minute, contemplating your decisions, and I don’t think you should. You did what you thought was right, and no one blames you for that, not for Mexico, and not for what you did after,” she spoke evenly, gathering even Penelope and Alvez’s attention from where they sat. He looked over, receiving a smile and a nod from both before focusing on JJ again. 

Rationally, he knew she was right about everything. He didn’t need to run himself ragged with everything he could have done differently, or search for the perfect way to explain, or overall, the perfect outcome of his own decisions. He knew there wasn’t one, there was no perfect way to say what he needed to, no perfect words to pick so he could fix this and erase the pain he knew he’d caused. 

Perfection wasn’t something you could strive to achieve, because there’s no such thing as perfection. The term was diverse, everyone had a different perspective on what that might look like. If for JJ, perfection was the family that waited for her at home every time she returned from a case, for Spencer, perfection was vastly different. 

For him, perfection was the rich aroma of coffee that could cause someone’s insulin to spike because of the amount of sugar in it. The softness of a book page between his fingers, or the familiarity of a book he’d read before but needed to revisit. 

Perfection was the sound of your laugh whenever he was the one to prompt the sound. The way your eyes lit up every time you listened to him babble on. Perfection was the time he got to spend with you every day, every hour, and every minute that he could remember with almost scary accuracy. 

He could sit and wonder what the perfect way to go about this was, but there simply wasn’t one, there was only the truth. And as painful, hopeful, or even a little dumb as it was, that was the best he could give.

And maybe that’s what his mind should focus on instead, the truth, in its simplest form, at its core the truth he’d hidden for months, and then the truth he’d hidden for years. 

He had wondered long enough if he’d made the right choice. He spent plenty of time focusing on the shame he’d felt, prompted by the disappointment he’d seen in his friends’ eyes whenever they brought up your name. How he’d sit, silent, or give an answer so short and angry, it’d add even more shame to the one he already felt. 

Beyond his time in prison, where he spent most of his time questioning his decisions, he spent years before that questioning himself as a person. His place on the team, his intelligence, even his failings. His inability to form relationships where he’d be seen as more than Dr. Reid, or the skinny kid, pretty boy, or a genius. A relationship that’d make him feel like simply Spencer, without the added adjectives, that sometimes made him feel like a circus clown. 

Only when he’d been locked up, had he started to realize that he’d finally built a relationship with someone with whom he could be himself. The most basic, boring, and peaceful version of himself, and slowly, all had started falling into place. 

How content he felt whenever he was around you, the desire to tell you every good or bad news he received. How when you asked about his mother, it warmed his heart, or how worried he felt when you acted stupid in the field. How out of control he’d felt when you’d gone missing last year. Or even, at the time, the unexplained jealousy he’d felt seeing you talk with another man.

Morgan had asked, once, twice, a lot, if maybe he didn’t have a crush, but he’d denied it, every time. And every time he’d question himself, he'd dismiss the idea just as quickly. 

Yet, upon being forced away from you, the pieces had started mending into one. 

Every realization he’d had was like a new broken piece being glued to the overall mosaic. And every new piece added built everything he felt about you. And it was a lot, and it was overwhelming, and so, so right, it sometimes felt wrong. Because he was inside a prison of his own doing, and you were out there, made to wait for him, for an explanation, for the truth. 

And he’d vowed to himself that the moment he was out, he’d put everything on the table, no matter how much he’d fucked up or how much he’d hurt you. He’d sit there, and he’d let it out, and if necessary, he’d even beg for your forgiveness. 

Because there wasn’t a moment in this life, he wanted to live through, without you there with him.

Your POV

You pulled the trigger, your eyes focused, and your hands steady. Three consecutive shots were fired, each one hitting its intended target. Three more followed, and then as many as it took to empty the magazine. 

You put down the gun and took a deep breath, steadying your heartbeat, trying to rid yourself of the deep-seated anxiety you felt. An odd sense of calm overtook you whenever you found yourself at the shooting range. Maybe it was the everpresent scent of gunpowder or the quiet only disturbed by the firing of a gun. Or even the possibility of escaping your rising thoughts, the desire to run or scream, sometimes both. 

There was a sense of solitude there that almost made it easier to breathe. The repetitive motion and the weight of the gun in your hands felt like second nature. 

Front sight, trigger press, follow through, just like Hotch had taught you all those years ago. As long as you held that gun, your mind was quiet, and you focused on something other than the worry you felt. 

It made sense you found yourself there shortly after Emily had shared the long-awaited good news - Spencer was finally free, and JJ, Penelope, and Luke were on route back with him. For a short moment, you’d felt the weight being lifted from your chest, and then it dropped again, now tripled. 

Suddenly, your earlier conversation with Emily had gotten as real as the target before you. Even with the sense of peace, you’d felt after, your thoughts on the matter clear, you still felt a sense of dread at the idea of seeing him. 

As if he wasn’t your best friend, the man who’d long ago won your affection and captured your heart, but rather a stranger who held your future in his hands. And he might as well be, because whatever the truth to the questions you wanted answered was, one thing was for sure.

It’d either make or break you both.

You picked up a new magazine, and loaded the gun, aiming at the target before releasing the safety. Before you fired again, you released a breath, and with it, all the feelings within you - fear, uncertainty, yearning, and the sense of madness, which, although mild, was persistent.

You fired once, twice, your aim impeccable, and then, out of nowhere, you missed. 

The hair at the back of your neck rose, your heart rate quickened, and the feeling of another’s presence in the room was unmistakable. It took you just a second to put the pieces together, the intrusion felt like anything but that. 

Instead, for a brief moment, the person brought with them a familiar feeling of calm. In the next instance, though, reality came crashing like a tidal wave, and you knew you’d run out of time. 

Your hands shook as you put down the gun. You could feel him watching you, probably standing next to the door, as if he couldn’t will himself to move closer. The anxiety was palpable in the air, although you couldn’t really say if it was yours or his, most likely, it was a mix of both.

You went to reach for your protection but hesitated. Once you took it off, there’d no longer be an excuse for you to ignore him, you’d finally have to meet the reality he’d so carefully crafted for you.

Even though you felt like you could barely breathe, the desire to finally lay your eyes on him won out. 

Without missing another beat, you took off your earplugs and then your eye protection. You could faintly hear the sound of shoes squicking against the floor. He could never stay still when he was nervous.  

You picked up on the sound of your own breathing too, the beating of your heart was almost erratic. You were waiting, what for, you weren’t sure. 

He was waiting too, for you to turn around, to lay his eyes on you. Like a sadist, waiting to see the pain he’d caused, or a masochist, wishing for his own in turn. 

70 days of slowly killing you both.

When you finally dared to turn around, it took you a moment to fully take him in. He looked like the Spencer you knew, yet there was something different about him too. Dressed in his usual suit and tie outfit, he didn’t look comfortable. His posture was rigid, almost defensive. It wasn’t a conscious decision, that much you were sure of.

His hair was longer, pushed back, curling at the ends, and he’d lost some weight. Not much, but enough to make an impression after all this time. He looked pensive, like the weight of the world sat on his shoulders, but maybe it was just the weight of the consequences he had to face.

Your eyes ran over every inch of him multiple times, intentionally avoiding his gaze for as long as possible. Seconds and minutes passed, and you weren’t really sure how much exactly. 

Spencer knew, though, of course, he did. If his fear of meeting you eye to eye was as great as yours was, you knew he was counting until the torture of the act itself was over. 

89 seconds he’d counted, although now with you there, they felt longer than the days without you did. 

When you eventually met his gaze, you felt a part of your heart chip on the inside. What people said about the eyes being a portal to one's soul couldn’t have been more right in that moment. Spencer, a man who excelled at hiding his emotions when he really wanted to, had let them out as clear as day for you to see. 

His eyes sparkled with so much sadness and guilt that it threatened to take you apart even before he had the chance to talk. Something softened within you at that moment, but in the next instance, it was like someone else took over. 

One moment you wanted to cry for him or with him, and the next you felt like your whole being needed to be let out. 

“Is that…is that all you can offer me right now? More of your silence? Don’t you think I’ve had enough of that?” The questions, a few of many to follow, had a bite to them. 

His face fell a little, taken aback by your tone. He fidgeted with his fingers, unsure what to say, or where to start. How could he answer your question? He pictured a scenario where his words flew freely, where he gave you an explanation worthy of forgiveness and a confession, so earnest that it ended with you in his arms. 

Try as he might, the words didn’t come to him, just a barely audible accusation. 

“That’s not fair.”

You scoffed, as if in outrage. A madness, one born out of so much heartbreak, took over, it was blinding. If someone had asked you to explain yourself, you’d say that wasn’t you. You’d never be so forward, almost cruel, to him, but at that moment, being mad sounded so much better than being vulnerable. Like a shield, you weren’t ready to let go of yet.

“How exactly is this not fair, Spencer? It’s the truth!” you yelled, and you felt free, finally letting it all out. “You want to know what isn’t fair, though? The way you isolated me OUT of your life! For three months, I’ve had to stand on the sidelines and beg for scraps, just to know you were okay. Every pitiful look I’d get from the people I consider family felt like another stab to the heart. That’s what’s not fair!” You were screaming so loud. It was a good thing the range was soundproof, otherwise, the whole of the BAU would have been deep in your business by now. 

If he looked surprised by the accusation, he didn’t really show it. His posture took a turn, though. The rigidity disappeared, and in turn, it opened, as if the need to comfort you overpowered the uncertainty or the mask he’d had to hold while imprisoned. 

You didn’t want his comfort, not right now. Maybe later, when all was said and done, you’d get to have a normal conversation without the frustrations of the past. At that moment, you just wanted everything out of your system. You wanted the questions, the answers, and the truth. 

His silence continued as he started closing the distance between you. You wanted to move, to create more distance, but there was nowhere to go. You were squeezed between the range, and him. Whatever else was left than to continue begging for clarity.

“It’s not fair being sent away the first time I came to see you. To learn you didn’t want to see me! Each time it was my turn to visit you, do you want to know where I was? I sat outside that fucking prison, wishing for a glimpse of the person who’s been my rock for 12 years! Holding back tears, thinking you didn’t…you didn’t care like I did. Is this what I really deserve after 12 years by your side?” You almost slipped, you almost told him, and maybe you should have, it might have prompted him to talk or to say something. But no, he stayed silent. Step after step, he limped, his cheek twitched, and his brows furrowed, but like a coward, he remained quiet. 

He was meters away from you, three more steps, and he’d completely close the distance, and meet you face to face. 

“Say something, Spencer, damn it!” Your throat burned from the strain, and he advanced even more. “Anything,” you finished in a whisper, and all of a sudden, all the fight left you, and your eyes watered and your vision went blurry. 

He was just a step away then, and when you looked into his eyes, you couldn’t help but see how they shined. 

He reached forward, one hand taking hold of your arm while the other went to hold your waist, but you shook your head. “No, Spencer, please,” you whispered. You didn’t want to find yourself in his arms, because that would be the last of your composure, gone. You’d surrender to the feel of him like you even had a choice not to. 

He didn’t stop, not until you were snug into his arms, one of his hands at the back of your neck, holding your head tenderly, but the arm around your waist held onto you as if he was scared you’d slip away from him. 

Once in his arms, you finally let go, breaking down into pieces, hoping he’d be able to hold them all from crumbling to the ground. 

“Hey, shh, it’s okay. I’ve got you.” He kept repeating, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on your pulse point. All the while, you could only stand, your arms at your sides, as if paralyzed.

Being in his arms felt like being home somehow. It felt so right after having been deprived of the feeling for so long. It felt like there was nothing wrong, and nothing could go wrong at that moment. 

Even though you hadn't initially wanted his comfort, somewhere deep inside, you craved his tender touch. You craved the feel of his body near and the faint scent that was so uniquely him - a mix of coffee, fall, and old paper, books. You realized then that you craved the sound of his voice too, another part of him you’d been deprived of. 

The voice of the always rambling boy that never failed to bring a smile to your face, even when you couldn’t understand him sometimes. 

And the more he whispered, his voice broken and shaky, the harder you cried. You’d thought nothing could match the heartbreak of his actions or the anger of his silence, but the reality of being held against him brought the realization that your suffering mirrored his own. 

If you’d been dying on the inside for months, he’d been on the other side of the link holding you tethered to each other, dying just as much. 

And you couldn’t hold yourself back any longer after that. You buried your head in the crook of his neck, and your arms finally circled his waist underneath his suit jacket, fisting the back of his shirt as if it were your one lifeline. 

You felt him exhale when you finally returned his touch, most likely in relief, before he dropped a light kiss on your head. 

You cried for the relief of having him back and close. For unspoken truths and time wasted, years of figuring out feelings clear as day. For all the anger, for all of his silence, for all you felt for him. 

He cried for all the pain he’d caused you and for all the time he’d wasted being alone instead of being with you. He cried for himself, he cried for you, and he cried, overwhelmed by his feelings for you. 

You clung to one another, crying, and minutes were passing and neither of you cared. Not when you had each other. 

After a while, when both your tears dried out and your cries quieted, but you still felt the need to hold each other close, you dared to murmur a broken “Why?” hoping he’d hear, hoping he’d understand. 

It didn’t take him long to mumble a reply, no longer silent. 

“All the words in the world available, and I wish I could explain.” it came out just as quietly, both of you scared to break the little bubble you’d found yourselves in. 

You pulled back from him, wanting to look into his eyes, red-rimmed and still sparkling when you felt yourself begging again. 

“Then try, please, because I’d rather know, and not understand, than not know at all.” And it was the truth. He could speak in riddles if he wanted, but you needed to know why he’d made that choice. 

You looked at him expectantly before he pushed a piece of hair back, and his hand once again settled at the back of your head, gently cupping it. 

“I wanted you safe from a world you didn’t belong in,” he admitted on an exhale, like a lifelong secret he’d gotten tired of holding onto. 

You looked at him in wonder, and it was on the tip of your tongue to tell him he didn’t belong in that world either, but just as you opened your mouth to speak, he shook his head. 

“I was ashamed when I had you removed from the visitor’s list. I didn’t want you to see me like that, like a criminal,” he started, pulling you into his arms, not wanting to admit it to you eye to eye, out of fear of being right. Of course, he was wrong, but that didn’t stop him from wondering. 

“The first time JJ visited me, they leered at her like they were being fed fresh meat, taking her in, committing her to memory. A cage full of animals. I knew then that I didn’t want that for you, and any guilt I had at keeping you away disappeared that day. It hurt me, knowing I was failing you and whatever trust you had in me,” he whispered, wishing to keep the reality of his thoughts and his feelings in a little bubble as if you only existed in it.

“I’m not the same person I was before, I couldn’t be him, even if it meant losing a part of myself in the process. I couldn’t really be a decent human being without bearing the consequences. Everything I saw, everything I did, and everything that was done to me, I don’t think I’d ever fully be the person I was before. And that too, I’m thankful I spared you from seeing.” It would explain his rigidity, a defense mechanism he’d had to get used to. 

And while everything he’d said thus far was true the biggest truth, he’d had yet to say. He had yet to really explain why he’d done what he’d done in the first place. He was stalling, still afraid, but the longer he held you, the longer he felt your heart beating in time with his, the more sure he became. 

To hell with the consequences, to hell with whatever happened after, he was right here in the now, alive, breathing, his arms around you, finally at peace. 

He pulled back, took your face into his hands, and finally whispered.

“Most of all, though, I knew I loved you enough to risk us if it meant keeping you safe.” It left him in a rush, a confession waiting to be let out for months. A feeling he’d had for years, and a moment where he could finally be open about it. 

“What…?” you licked your lips, shocked that you might not have heard him correctly. ”What does us mean?” This part of the conversation felt like you were daydreaming about it, it just didn’t feel real. 

“It means whatever you want it to be. Whatever you want us to be.” All of a sudden, it was that simple. 

“So, you love me?” You had a hard time taking it all in, yet your heart fluttered in pure happiness. “And you…you want us?” 

"Yes.” Even before you were done speaking, he was already answering. He was desperate to finally admit he was absolutely smitten by you. 

Months of figuring out your feelings, years of hiding them, a conversation to finally prompt a confession out of you, and all this time it was reciprocated. You could have cried, happiness like no other coursing through you, pure bliss. 

You wanted back into his arms, you wanted to kiss him so badly that your blood was burning from the need to feel him like you'd never been able to before. And yet, you knew there was something else you needed to do before you could finally do it.

“Spence, you don’t push away the people you love, no matter the cost. You rely on their love to help aid you when you’re at your lowest.” You gave his sides a light squeeze before you looked back into his eyes, only to see them hopeful and uncertain at the same time.

He looked hopeful, for the possibility that you might actually love him back, but uncertain because it felt like you might be pushing him away this time. 

“I can’t go through this again. Having to watch you wither away, in prison, at home, or by your own thoughts, I won’t be able to handle being pushed away again,” whispers, cries, pleas, memories full of heartbreak intertwined with present confessions full of joy. 

His eyes watered then, his lips trembling. Any sign of hope was gone, and in its’ place stood the realization of a man who’d maybe gone a little too far. He’d pushed you away, and now, it was your time to be the one sticking and twisting the knife deep, breaking his heart in the process. 

If someone were to ask him at that moment what his biggest regret was, he’d say this. This was his biggest regret, his own choices. 

A tear escaped him, and you reached up, wiping it away gently before you spoke again.

“If..if this is going to go anywhere, you need to rely on me. You need to believe that I can handle anything and everything, just as long as you are by my side. All those years of being pushed away - your addiction, Maeve and Gideon’s deaths, your mom’s diagnosis, Cat Adams - you weren’t alone then, you aren’t alone now, and you won’t be alone in the future. You’ll always have me by your side, you’ll always have my support. Most of all, you’ll have my love, but when things get hard, I need you to lean on me, and trust that I can help you because together we can pull through everything, anything is possible as long as we are together.” You finished on an exhale, full-on crying now. You could barely see him, but from the little you could, you saw tears streaming down his face, and a smile that grew wide, happy.

Those words, he knew them word for word. For 13 days, he’d repeat them, no longer needing to see them written down, he had them engraved in his brain. Your letters he could recite, but your final one he’d remember as long as he lived. 

“I promise to lean on you and trust that you’d help me because together we can pull through everything, anything is possible as long as we are together,” he whispered back, his eyes searching yours for just a moment before he pulled you in, and finally, his lips met yours. 

He kissed you, tentative at first, testing the waters. He wanted to take his time, commit your lips to memory, gentle, and plump, exactly how he’d imagined they’d feel. The more he kissed you, the more he couldn’t stop. Passion, urgency, desire - his kisses turned desperate like he wanted to swallow you whole and never let you go. 

He bit your lip gently, asking for access, before his tongue intertwined with yours and he pulled you flush against him, closing any gap left between you. Chest, hips, there wasn’t an inch where you weren’t touching. 

It felt so familiar, even though you hadn’t kissed before. So right, like no one's kisses had felt before. As if your whole lives, kissing each other was the missing piece in a complicated puzzle, waiting to be put together. Coming together as one, it felt magnetic, a feeling of euphoria, pure ecstasy, no one else mattered, no other feeling mattered at that moment, other than your hands on each other and your lips locked together. 

Time was passing by, and you didn’t care. Years of missed opportunities, hidden feelings, and long-awaited realizations all led to this moment. Starved for each other, a kiss full of fervor and even the taste of tears was present. Unimaginable, but very real.

When you finally pulled apart, he wiped your tears, and you wiped his in turn, before he gathered you back in the comfort of his arms, laying a kiss on the side of your head.

And between the four walls around you, nestled in each other’s arms, the place where no one could touch you, in a shared breath you both whispered. 

“I love you.” 

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Likes, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated!

[kingofbodyrolls]

Friendcation (m) | myg | series masterlist

Going camping with your best friends seemed like a brilliant idea when you initially made the plans. But when you harbor secret feelings for one of them, what will become of you being close confined for three months? Trouble, that’s what.

→ Pairing: Yoongi x reader (female, “Y/N”) → Other characters: Jimin, Jungkook, Taehyung, Namjoon, Hoseok and Seokjin. → Trope: friends to best friends with benefits to lovers (they be messy and confused, lol) → AUs: non idol!au, camping!au, roadtrip!au, mechanic!au (Yoongi is a mechanic) → Genre: humor, (slight) angst, smut and fluff → Rating: mature/explicit/R18 (This is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact.) → Word count: 131.6K (things got out of hand, lol and it's mainly smut 💀) → Disclaimer: I do not own BTS or know them personally and this work of fiction is purely fictional and for entertainment purposes only. The actions and personalities described in the story do not reflect those of BTS— it’s just fiction. Also, if you would kindly read the tags/warnings before reading, that would be lovely: and if you don’t like whatever is described in the tags, just hit return and find something else to read. Thank you 🌸 → Warnings/tags: will be tagged for each individual chapter. But it does contain smut, almost in every chapter (not the first though). → Taglist: Closed. → Status: Completed! (I'm still doing some extras for it now and then)

🍃 Chapter 1 Summary: As exhaustion and stress threaten to consume you and your friends at work, Yoongi comes to the rescue with an enticing proposal: a collective vacation—a friendcation. Amid the backdrop of breathtaking landscapes and shared adventures, your feelings for him only deepens more. Yet, his lingering gaze holds secrets you can't ignore, leaving you to wonder if it conceals something deeper—an unspoken connection that may forever alter your friendship. Word count: 11,9K | Read → chapter one 🍃Chapter 2 Summary: When you get a flat tire, you think it’s bad luck, but when you fall flat on your ass and Yoongi offers to massage the pain away, has your luck finally turned? 😜 Word count: 12.7K | Read → chapter two 🍃Chapter 3 Summary: When you and Yoongi visit his family in Daegu, and he introduces you as his friend, it rubs you all kind of wrong. But what are you even to each other, other than best friends with benefits? Word count: 11.9K | Read → chapter three 🍃Chapter 4 Summary: It’s the last weeks of the vacation being just you and Yoongi, and you’re going to savor every last bit of it. You do some hiking, relaxing and discover new sides to yourself that you didn’t know existed. Word count: 17.7K | Read → chapter four 🍃Chapter 5 Summary: Namjoon, Hoseok and Seokjin have finally joined you on your trip and it’s going great; you have a tremendous amount of fun (some at your expense), laughter and talks about life. Namjoon suddenly asks you where you think this thing with Yoongi is heading, and to be honest you don’t really know yourself – you just know that you love him. Word count: 23K | Read → chapter five 🍃Chapter 6 Summary: Your vacation is coming to an end but your thoughts are spiraling and filled with anxiety as a tiny mishap makes you question your future with Yoongi. Word count: 11.3K | Read → chapter six 🍃Chapter 7 [finale] Summary: Melancholy shrouds you and Yoongi in your last days of vacation – time to get back home to the daily grind. But when you can visit Yoongi in his garage, is it really so bad? Word count: 11.3K | Read → chapter seven

🍃Extras🍃

🍃Wedding special Summary: Yoongi has done everything in his power to make your wedding truly special, what he couldn’t plan for was the rain. But fret not, a bit of rain will not make your day less special when it’s surrounded by friends and family. And your wedding night? Well, being pushed down into the sheets by Yoongi is easily one of your favorite things. Word count: 12.2k | Read → the wedding special

🍃Honeymoon special Summary: You and Yoongi travel to Scandinavia for your honeymoon, well more like babymoon. You camp, fish, hike and enjoy nature as you always do, and you even go surfing! Word count: 8.7k | Read → the honeymoon special

🍃Pregnancy special Summary: You and Yoongi try to get pregnant, but it doesn’t go as planned, as the road isn’t easy. But he’s your rock, and he’ll stand with you through thick and thin 💜 Word count: 7.5k | Read → the pregnancy special

🍃Winter special Summary: You’re in labor and live outside of the city, and it just happens to be Christmas time, there’s a lot of snow. Will you and Yoongi be able to make it to the hospital before your baby arrives? OR– The one where Yoongi fucks you into labor and crashes the car. Word count: 10.3k | Read → the winter special

🍃Baby special Summary: Yoongi spends time with your daughter. Word count: 3.5k | Read → the baby special

→ Author’s note: Thank you so much for reading! 🌸 I appreciate every like, comment and reblog, and please don’t be afraid to let me know what you think;  your kind words makes me extremely happy 💜

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Someone New 6

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include angst, pining, romcom tropes, and some darker elements later in the series. Some triggers may not be specifically tagged. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This fic will contain explicit content. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You’ve had a crush on your best friend for years, but you’re slapped in the face with reality when he takes things to the next level with his girlfriend.

Characters: Steve Rogers, Thor

Note: Thanks as usual for reading.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Things don’t become comfortable, but familiar. You get into a routine, one which smears the days and nights into the other. The landscape helps with that. The sun is fleeting, even in July. The days are longer but it’s not anywhere as stifling or humid as New York. Like everything else, it’s different. 

The man at the fish place, Frederik, knows your name. His wife, Inga too. When you walk in the door, they put your order to fry before you even get to the counter. They’re friendly and warm. It’s nice to have some smiling faces when you can hardly muster the same.  

They like to ask you about New York; they’re finally planning a big trip to America after twenty-five years together. They remind you of Marigold and her bakery. You long for one of her eclairs and her chatty demeanour. Just another thing to miss. 

As you sit down at a table near the window to eat in, your phone goes off. You answer as you read Sam’s name across the screen. He’s the only one you’ve talked to in the last month. Nearly two now. August is close. 

“Yo, yo, girly pop,” he sings from the other end. 

“Girly pop? Sam,” you chide as you hover a thick cut fry before your mouth. 

“Chicky poo, nope. Girly pop, nope. I’ll get there,” he teases, “finally got a hold of you.” 

“Uh, yeah, the site is far. No signal,” you shrug and take a bite. 

“I know, I'm just needy,” he kids. “So, you hitting the spa? Summer’s going fast.” 

“Not yet,” you swallow. “Sam, there’s a lot of work here and it’s just me. The only help I get is from a local student volunteer and they do three hours a week.” 

“Oof, why does your work sound so boring?” He groans 

“Hey!” 

“Well, I mean, digging up dirt all day, tell me you’re not going mad. You making friends? No one to cool, I hope. I’m still your number one guy.” 

“Not really. It’s tough. Long hours. I don’t know,” you stare out the window as you toy with the bamboo fork.  

“If you were going to hide all day in a hovel, you could’ve stayed in New York,” he sighs. 

“Sam, I’m trying. Really. It’s... It’s going to take some time.” 

“Right,” he agrees grimly. “Time. A year is not that long.”  

You hum and lean back in the chair. You’re not as hungry as you were. You close up the container and stand. 

“I know, alright?” You sniff as you tidy the table and grab your food, “but this isn’t a vacation.” 

“It’s also not a missionary trip,” he retorts. “I’m not tryna be a dick here, I’m helping. You need this.” 

You push out into the street and cluck. Silence. You don’t know what to say. He’s right and just like ever day, the conversation is the same. Over and over. It’s going to drive you crazy. 

“More sunlight this time of year, good for work--” 

“No more work talk,” he interjects, “if you don’t got anything fun going on, I'll just have to make you jealous. Some good old fashioned FOMO. Hm, me and Bucky went to Jersey.” 

“Jersey? Why?” You take the bait, happy for the distraction. 

“Oh, yeah, I told him there was a vintage bike for sale there.” 

“You told him that but...” 

“There wasn’t. I just wanted to see him interact with the locals. The old ladies love him but the men... well, I think he might have a warrant out now.” 

“No, Sam, what the hell?” You exclaim as you stroll along. “Are you trying to get him killed?” 

“Hey, I got his back. Just like I got yours. It was just a prank.” 

“Wait, Sam, where exactly did you take him in Jersey?” 

“Some cribbage club, I don’t know. I saw a page for it online. Thought he’d fit in--” 

“They were old?” 

“They match his energy,” he snorts. 

You can’t help but laugh. It feels good. Just that little bit of home. Your amusement is dampened as your heart sinks. You really were so stupid. You didn’t see what you had all around you; Bucky, Sam, more than just Steve. Now it’s all behind you and going back won’t be the same as before. 

💟

There’s tension in the air. It’s going to rain. You suspect your day will be cut short by the gathering clouds but your persist. No use in running. Again. 

The last time you left in fear of a storm, it waited until the next day. So you sit, boots set in the dirty, hunched over as you carefully trace out the strange lump. It’s more than sediment. Bone but not a skeleton. Likely animal and bent into some tool. You have to be delicate. It’s not like the movies, you can’t just dig your hand in and rip it out. 

Your earbud drones as a retro R&B playlist keeps your mind at focus. You wipe your forehead with the back of your glove, feeling the flecks of dirt cling to your skin. You ignore it and press on. Just a little more, a little more. 

It’s bigger than you expect. Just as you think it might come free, you find it goes further down. You can make out the jagged break and the hide wrapping at it’s base. A spear of some sort.  

You roll your shoulders out and put your tools down on the open role. You peel of the gloves and reach for the tall insulated bottle of water. You gulp, your throat cooling nicely at the flow. You cap the bottle and clear your throat, listening to the silence of the mountain. 

Yet it isn’t quiet. You glance around at the subtle scratching, a strange tapping across the ground. It could be vermin. It’s not unusual to disturb a nest of one thing or another on a dig but they usually leave early on. 

You put the bottle down and shove your hand back into a glove. A puffy breath comes over the scratching. Several breaths in quick succession, as if there’s something sniff. You keep your other glove in your grip and stand. Your legs are so cramped that your steps are stiff and stunted. 

As you search for the source, there’s a yipe and a fuzzy shape catches your eye. You tilt your head, thoroughly confused at the barking beast. You’re not certain that chihuahuas are native to Norway. At least, you wouldn’t assume so. 

The ashy blond dog has longer fur along its ears and chest and a white bolt down its chest. You can tell it isn’t wild despite its behaviour as it is finely groomed and wears a bright red collar. You approach the fence as it hops, stopping only to try to dig beneath with its dirtied paws. 

“Hi, buddy,” you near the eager dog, “how’d you get up here?” 

You stop just across from the dog and poke your fingers through the fence. It stops, you think a ‘he’, and sniffs your fingers. His cold nose tickles you and you wiggle until you can pet his head. The little thunderbolt emblem on hiss collar peeks through his mane. There might be some information there. 

“Thunder!” The booming voice sounds like the very thing it decries, “Thunder, you pest, where’re you off too?” 

There’s a crunching of soil and rock along the mountain pass as the dog growls and barks again, turning to face the skewing of a towering shadow. You watch in shock at the approach. You didn’t think there was life so far up. That or someone has chosen a rather treacherous hiking trail. 

The dog, you assume ‘Thunder’, bounces back and forth in anticipation of his own, calling to him with his pitchy yaps. The man appears around the jagged rock and you feel the air knocked from your chest. You slowly reach to take out your earbud and tuck it in a pocket.

Wow. You blink to make sure it’s real. To be certain this isn’t some trick of the mind or this ancient land. Maybe the gods are real here. 

He’s tall and broad and handsome. His canvas jacket does little to conceal his muscular build as his jeans are snug to his thick thighs. You think he’s even bigger than Steve. You wince at the reminder of the man but it quickly flits away. You can’t ignore the man before you with his golden tresses twisted back into a low bun, stray strands wisping forward to frame his stony jaw and stormy blue eyes. 

You stand gaping through the fence as the man flinches in fright. His gaze meet yours and his cheeks tinge pink as he gives a crooked grin, “ah, Thunder, my darling, you’ve found a friend.” 

He whistles and the dog lunges forward. He picks up the chihuahua, their size difference almost comical as he cradles him in one arm. You can’t think of a thing to say. You can barely think.  

You snap your mouth shut and clear your throat. Work. That’s what you should be doing. 

“Hello,” the man nears the other side of the fence before you can move away, “I’ve been wondering what this is all about. The signs...” he points with his thumb over his shoulder. 

“Oh, uh,” you peer around as if lost. You sort of are. “A dig. Er. Grant,” you stammer out. You take a breath and still your mind, “I work with an archeological society in New York. We’ve been sponsored by your national board to exhume this site.” 

“Ah, yes, makes sense,” he lowers his brows thoughtfully as the dog squirms in his hold, yiping and biting at his sleeve. “Forgive me, she is rather uncouth.” He raises the dog higher and she wiggles in his arm. You see it now, definitely a pampered girl. “This is Thunder. She lives up to her namesake, eh?” 

“Uh, yeah,” you give a brittle smile, unsure. 

“Thor,” he dips his chin down, “I live just up the pass.” 

“You do?” You wonder curiously. “All the way up here?” 

“Oh yes, if you saw the old haunt, you might just want to dig that up too,” he jokes. “We usually go up the pass, towards the river.” 

“The river?” 

“Yes, you mustn’t stray far from here,” he remarks as he raises a hand to lean on the fence, only to nearly tip the unanchored grating. “Oooh, apologies,” he rights himself with a laugh, “anyhow, it is nice to see a new face around here. Better to have a name for it.” 

“Right, uh,” you offer your name and giggle nervously, “it’s just me on-site, guess I forget my manners.” 

“Not to worry. As the resident mountain man, my etiquette does lack,” he winces as Thunder chomps on his thumb knuckle, “eh, you monster, alright.” He holds her up and she pokes her nose through the fence, “she loves new people. Not so keen on the old.” 

“She's cute,” you scratch her nose and she licks your fingers. “Not exactly a native species.” 

“Who knows where she came from? Found the little dragon in the woods. Suppose someone left her there. She was covered in mud, so small I though she was a bloody toad,” he muses as he brings her back against his chest and rocks her, “it was only her thunderous barks which told me otherwise, isn’t that right, darling?” 

He makes a kissy noise at her and her fluffy tail wags wildly against him. You smile more genuinely. It is nice to have another living thing around after digging up the broken and dead for so long. 

“So you’re from New York?” He asks abruptly, his blue eyes rolling over you like a tide. 

“Yeah,” you utter breathily, “yes, New York.” 

“You’ve been here a while?” 

“Couple months,” you shift and twist your glove. 

“Wonderful, and you’ve done much exploring? You must live in town.” 

“About three hours,” you point towards the gravelly road, “haven’t had much time for sightseeing but I found a good fish shop.” 

“A shop? That’s no good. We catch our own fish, fry ‘em up over the pit,” he says, “that’s the way we do it up here.” 

You nod, “sounds fun. Well, er,” you turn halfway and look around, your eyes skimming up to the cloudy sky, “I should probably hustle. Looks like rain.” 

“That it does but it won’t be ‘til midnight,” he assures. 

“You think it’ll hold out?” 

“I know so,” he affirms and lingers by the fence, trying to see past you, “what exactly are you uncovering over there?” 

“Not much so far,” you pull on your loose glove. 

“You must know what this place was. A raider’s camp.” 

“Is that so?” 

“Mm, yes, the raiders would camp upon the pass away from those who might come ashore, then go off themselves to find a coast to reap,” he explains. 

“And how do you know all that?” You ask as you tramp back to your place in the dirt. 

“Suppose some of my ancestors camped here with them,” he offers casually, “for so long as we’ve been up here. Once the viking scamps settled, they had to find a home somewhere. Some fellow named Agmundr or another built a stone house further up.” 

“Admundr? Family?” You prompt. 

“Distant,” he assures, “been some time and that stone house is now a foundation.” 

You get down to your knees as you grab your brush and peek over at him, “thanks for the information. I’ll have to add it to the land report. Have them crosscheck in the archives.” 

“Not at all. You won’t find it all on your paper, you know? We carry or history on our tongues here.” 

“Sure,” you say as you bend over the spearhead and start again. 

“You don’t mind if I watch? I always did love history and I’ve never seen a proper dig before.” 

“Not much going on, I’m afraid,” you shrug, “but if you want.” 

“Thunder will have a tantrum if I go,” he chuckles, “she likes you.” 

“Hm,” you scoff, “she is very outspoken.” 

You set your eyes on your task but can’t shake the awareness of your audience. It’s not too unusual. There were a few digs you did early on in the heart of the city and people loved to ogle you. This is different. Just the two of you. A stranger even. Friendly as he is, you’re happy for the fence, even if it is rather flimsy. 

“Those bones aren’t for you,” he says to the dog as she wriggles in his grasp. “Let’s find a stick then, you little pest.” 

[heeliopheelia]

"was that your first kiss?" (heeseung x reader)

genre: fluff word count: 0.7k requested by nonnie ♡

a/n: last heeseung drabble for this event!! i had so much fun writing this, i'll probably expand this idea a little more in the future!! im so tired im falling on my face rn so i'll do a grammar check tomorrow!! 🤍

masterlist

It's hilarious, really, how your campus' it boy Lee Heeseung seems to be absolutely smitten with you.

With the mentioned above man hot on your heels like a shadow, you try your best not to get distracted and keep putting the pile of books back on their rightful place on old shelves. Paying no attention to his stubborn tailing you, you bite back a smile at his soft grunt when he stumbles into another table corner for the nth time this hour.

Without no words needed anymore, you hand him one of the books and he automatically slides it onto the top shelf where you can't reach.

This has been going on for about two months now – you spending your afternoons helping the elderly campus librarian putting back the returned books, and Heeseung entertaining you with his presence as he relentlessly tries to work for this date with you that he's been yearning for for such a long time.

"Are you free this Friday?" He asks suddenly and you send him a glance. He leans one shoulder against the tall bookshelf and beams at you. "We have a game at 6, you have to come. I won't be able to make it into the hoop without seeing your pretty little face cheering on me from the stands."

"Sounds to me like you're not that good of a player if you won't," you bite back playfully but don't say no to his offer. The both of you know well that you'll come just as you did the last five times.

Heeseung's smile broadens as he closes the distance between the two of you a little more. "Every athlete needs a lil something to get them going. In my case it's you, my muse."

You can't help but scoff at his blatant flirtation and with a shake of your head you take a step back in an attempt to get a hold of your hammering heart again.

And with a yelp, you trip over the bag that you've carelessly tossed to the floor some hours before, and stumble forward – straight into Heeseung's chest. Not wasting any second more and risking the chance of you backing away, he takes the opportunity of having you this close to him and cups your chin with his long fingers, only to lean down and plant a kiss right on your lips. You freeze in your place, stunned with the sudden new feeling as you heart nearly beats out of your chest.

He pulls away to check up on you, hoping he didn't cross any of your boundaries, but when he sees your sparkly eyes looking at him with such astonishment, face flushed so fucking adorably, he can't help but mold your lips back together again. He nibbles at the plush of your lip gently, thumb sliding to your chin to tug it down slightly and allowing him to deepen the kiss a little more.

There are no thoughts present on your mind other than Heeseung and his stupidly charming smirk and his stupidly confident attitude and his stupidly handsome face that never seems to leave your mind for even a second.

When he pulls away, he's met with your stunned face, eyes fluttering open and gaping right into his. He bites back a laugh as you remain speechless, a fat blush arising on your cheeks.

"Was that your first kiss?" He ends up asking, hand reaching up to brush the stray strand of hair out of your eyes. When all you do is nod your head sheepishly, eyes desperately avoiding his, he lets a wide grin spread on his lips. "Yeah? I was your first?"

You smack his arm gently and feel your ears burning when he catches your hand and intertwines it with his one.

"Shut up." You say and the quiet mutter squeezes at Heeseung's heart mercilessly.

And, god, he's so pathetic. So in love with you that if his teammates caught him in such state, he probably wouldn't hear the end of it until the day of his graduation.

"So you'll come? Right?"

With a roll of your eyes you close the distance parting your faces and mumble into his lips, "Yes, you idiot."

permanent taglist: @bambisgirl @arizejkt19 @luvmura @milisabunny @cathy-1997 @satoruskitchenrag @ramenoil @jenjnk @jaylaxies @yoongspi @nichoswag @s00buwu @dazzlingligth

[angryschnauzer]

January 11th 2024

Yeah its been a while since i updated. I haven't had the energy to if i'm honest, but here we go.

Hubby had his brain surgery end of November '23. The tumour they took out was a nasty one, somewhere between the size of a golf ball and a kiwi fruit. The wound has healed well with little to no side affects apart from some double vision, but he was checked out for that and it is a common after affect of brain trauma and was remedied with an eyepatch for a few weeks.

We met with the Neuro Oncology team at Royal Marsden Hospital in London. They are one of the best (if not the best) cancer treatment centres in the whole country, and we worked through a treatment plan.

Just before Christmas hubby was also cleared to have shoulder reconstructive surgery (he broke his shoulder bone in the original seizures back at the end of October '23). There was a really small window of time between it being enough time after the brain surgery that he could go back under general anaesthetic, but also enough time to mostly heal before he started Radiotherapy and Chemo, so just 5 days before Christmas hubby was in and out of our local hospital in a single day to have that surgery.

Christmas was a quiet and subdued affair. I also herniated a disk in my back the day Hubby had surgery (i was clearing the deep freeze out ready for grocery delivery), so it meant both he and I were dosed up to our eyeballs on strong painkillers for most of the holiday, and Little Dude spent the majority of the break either playing video games or building his new lego sets.

Two days before Christmas i also had to have emergency dental work (i had been grinding my teeth and had previously cracked a tooth) and whilst i was in the dentists office some utter idiot crashed into my car. That was the last thing i needed but i simply handed it all over to my insurance company (who are aware of my husbands situation) and they arranged a hire vehicle and sorted repairs.

Onto the start of 2024. This is the first week of Radiotherapy and Chemo for Hubby. He is getting very tired and fatigued already from the Radiotherapy, but thankfully no nausea from the chemo as yet, but that could change over time. He is scheduled for a full schedule of 6 weeks of this dual treatment, where we are having to visit Royal Marsden every day Mon - Fri for the six weeks, and then he also takes the chemo 7 days a week for the six weeks.

He'll then have 4 to 6 weeks 'off' treatment for his body to relax and recuperate, but will have scans and MRI's during that time to gauge what further treatment will be, but its likely to be just chemo but a stronger dose, but no radiotherapy. The chemo is to be 3 weeks off one week on, so a 4 weekly cycle.

The one thing we have discovered isn't done is prognosis's. When we first got to Royal Marsden we were shocked as they started talking about years, and explained that although it was a really nasty tumour, it was found very early and whilst it was still relatively small for its kind. They've discussed things like 'this years treatment plan then we'll look at next years', and also for a while Hubby was being considered for a clinical trial which candidates who have prognosis's of 12 months+ are only considered for. In the end he didn't meet the criteria (his cholesterol was too high). The Macmillian Nurses also have been talking to us about Mobility Car assistance schemes where you can get govt assistance financially and get an adapted vehicle on a 2 year rolling lease. All these timings are reassuring in one way, but worrying in another - we have no idea what the future holds and it really does cement in stone that our time is limited and could end any moment, and makes it very difficult to make any long term plans. You don't realise how much of your life is preplanned until you end up in this situation and aren't sure if you can book your kid onto the school residential trip in 5 months time.

Should anyone want the mundane daily day-to-day life updates you can follow me on my personal instagram @simone_with_an_e its generally a load of utter boring bollocks, but i try to keep it updated daily with updates when i can as its a lot easier to do 1 short paragraph than a big update.

For me my mental health is a little better now that i've had time to process Hubby's diagnosis and that he is getting treatment. There are still days or hours when i fall apart, and it could be something as simple as listening to a song on the radio as i drive back from dropping Little Dude at school and i realise the song would be lovely at his funeral. I end up having to pull over and have a cry whilst switching the radio off. I'm loosing weight and aging quickly, my hair is turning grey from stress and i realised i've aged about 15 years in the last 3 from stress. My appetite comes and goes, and things like red meat now turn my stomach and i can't digest it. But i also haven't drunk alcohol since the day before Hubby had his seizure back in October. I feel like i need to stay 'alert' in case i need to rush him to the hospital for something. I don't miss it as such, but I miss the ability to fully relax. Its hard to describe but i feel like at the moment i've lost myself and am just functioning to care for those around me, going through the motions as such.

Anyway, this has been a long update. I do still lurk here, you may see me pop up in notifications liking something, but at the moment i don't feel its right to start putting fandom stuff back on here yet. I do hope to get back to writing at some point. I miss it and the unfinished stories plague my mind as i have such lovely plans for story arc's and really want to finish them.

Take care all,

Schnauz

xxx

[saturdaysky]

First Lines

I was tagged by @mithrilwren to post the first lines of my last ten fics! What a fun trip down memory lane this was.

1) fray (Ludinus/Essek; feelbad manipulation + an intentional gap between wants and needs)

"Such a fanciful tradition," he chides, watching the light play on Thelyss' bright braids. The candlelight of his bedchambers paints them fetchingly gold. Thelyss sits with a prim tiredness on the bed, holding still while Ludinus slips the buttons of his high collar back into place. They have begun to take all of their meetings here, in recent months.

2) discretion, written with @mllekurtz (Caleb/Essek; power dynamics and clothing)

“You wore this to the court today.” The words do not feel quite real coming out of his mouth.

3) growing sunlight (Caleb/Essek; a post-canon homecoming)

Caleb shuts the door against the afternoon sun, sealing them into comfortable privacy. The curtains on his windows are likewise shut, but light seeps through them anyway, casting the room in a warm, muted glow. Dimmed daylight will gather here for hours; like a little bubble of sunset just for us, supplies his mind. He is too glad to resist whimsy. Essek's visits always make him so.

4) if only for a moment (Caleb/Essek; time travel, grief, love, a leave-taking)

It was supposed to be five minutes into the future, but Caleb is pretty sure he fucked that one up. The lurch in his stomach tells him so, as does the treacle-like quality of his perception, and the way the spell writhes in his mind.

5) the end; to hold the sun (Caleb/Essek; a Calamity AU set minutes before the city falls from the sky)

It is done. It is done.

6) brothers (Beau & Essek talk about their estranged brothers; canon-with-a-twist AU)

Essek's shoulders are tense in a way that's gonna ache later, his frame drawn tight against the endless blue sky above the bay. He leans on the salt-crusted railing and stares out at the armada gathered for the peace talks. "I am still a Thelyss," he whispers in Undercommon. "They cannot take that from us." To Beau's ears, it sounds like a prayer.

7) sanctuary, a claiming (Caleb/Essek; werewolf/witch dark fairytale AU)

The night is red. Above the Wildwood, Catha’s gentle silver eye has waned into sleep at the end of its long cycle, leaving only the ruddy gaze of its sister to light the forest. Tomorrow, Catha will wax anew into wakefulness, but tonight, when magic is strong and bloody in the air, Ruidus’ dark creatures come out to play.

8) a shape made by our hands (Caleb/Essek; in a decaying timeline, Caleb meets Essek as a child.)

The spell is almost up. He’s gotten what he came to this timeline for, and when he returns to his own, this reality will decay into nothingness like an echo. The clock ticks unrelentingly in Caleb’s head; he estimates he has at least an hour. Maybe two, maybe less; time magic is an inexact science, as it turns out.

9) fulcrum (Caleb & Trent review proper torture techniques)

He is deep in the bowels of the sanatorium and has been for three days. Caleb is doing his best not to let that fact peel him out of his head.

10) poisoning the well (Caleb character study, ft. Trent's incessant, inescapable praises)

There is the splish-splash-splash as the Nein travel through the drenched Aeorian tunnel, and then Ikithon’s voice slithers into his head, parting the layers of Caleb's privacy with ease and blotting out all other sound.

I tag @mllekurtz @ariadne-mouse @chronurgy @burningdarkfire @annundriel and anyone else who wants to do it! Tag me in, I'd love to see your first lines.

[thistransient]

Halfway through July, and I have neglected to write my yearly birthday introspection, although it did occur to me that between my birthday and the new year I was in fact doing two introspections a year anyways.

For certain reasons I've been waffling about it, but it's also quite nice to be able to look back and compare with the previous year, to see what's changed (sometimes unexpectedly) and what's still the same. Last year I mentioned I "made a close friend [...] and disentangled myself from a draining relationship", but in the end I had been drawn to said friend because he was the polar opposite of the person I was disentangling myself from, and while a different extreme might have been refreshing in the moment, that too was unsustainable in the long run. I think what finally dragged me out of the cycle of too-clingy/too-distant nebulous just-friends-but-what-if sort of relationships was twofold: I started going to counselling with a goal (not the usual "I feel like I'm having a breakdown so I'll see a therapist for 3-6 months before ditching"), and also got into a communal hobby such that I was able to make casual friends and attend regular and diverse events with a time limit (rather than laser focusing on one person and relying on them for all my socialising).

A year ago I said I was feeling adrift, goal-less, and filled with the sort of summer malaise inspired by the scorching Taipei weather this time of year. Unfortunately we are still rather scorched. The temperature and UV levels somewhat put a damper on my usual practice of walking around outside looking at things. On the positive side, I did struggle through the adrift-ness and applied for one (1) grad school program over the winter, which I didn't get into but I did learn that I feel better when I'm working on something, and I was also motivated to finally take Taiwan's Chinese proficiency exam to open up my options for the sort of programs I could try for in the future (I passed a level higher than I expected to, and it was great to feel acknowledgment of my competence at something I'd really put long-term effort into). After the grad school rejection I started planning the trip to Ladakh, which allllmost felt like it involved a similar level of paperwork and fuss- and actually pulling that off in the end (ok, even tho this was after my birthday) despite all my fears and anxiety (particularly around travelling post-transition) was also a great confidence boost. (For a week after I also had this frantic urge to drastically change my life, and I can't tell if it wore off with time or if the heat simply drained out all ambition beyond staying out of the sun and sitting in front of the fan eating cold dragonfruits.)

I have at least two proper goals now, and although one may require starting over entirely from an educational standpoint, as they say, "the time will pass anyways". On my bike rides at night I do tend to start pondering what shall become of me, creeping along in the years but being no closer to permanent or even temporary residency status than any other time I write about it either wistfully or with well-intentioned but otherwise ultimately futile determination, nor feeling like I am useful for any sort of capitalist pursuits. (I suppose this is the part of reflection wherein things have stayed the same, and we must stay tuned for next year.) But I also believe I have made some progress in deflating a little the omnipresent catholic guilt at simply existing, not to mention the adjacent notion that enjoying life a bit and not being maximally miserable at all times is a SIN. By this I mean I have gone twice now to a nice hair salon to let a beautiful woman shampoo, condition, and also give me a haircut that doesn't bear a strong resemblance to a bichon-frise immediately after.

All in all, I would say the verdict is incremental improvement. (Okay maybe I'm also racking up incremental nerve damage from all the shibari but you win some you lose some.) My housing/employment/visa-running status hasn't changed dramatically but I feel more hopeful and kinder with myself. I think my Chinese reading speed has kicked up a notch. I've managed to keep the instant noodle consumption under control. I've sent a lot of postcards on my quarterly trips, which are generally well-received. I have taken great delight in growing many plants in the window cage (whether they survive is another thing, RIP to the tomato plants while I was away, bravo to the basil that miraculously rehydrated from what seemed to be a completely unsalvageable state, sorry to the lemon tree sprout that was apparently doing fine on its own before I came back and over-watered it to death). Things feel kinda okay, and I used to be quite suspicious of this because surely they were only going to get worse again, but these days I figure hey, even so, might as well enjoy it while it lasts.

[evelynsgarden]

◈In the Heart of East Egg◈

THREE KNOCKS AND A KIND INTRODUCTION

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Authors note: Back to writing bitches 😞 need something to keep me stable lmfao- in all honesty this was a lot of fun! Lemme know what yall think :p also feel free to leave requests🪷 MDNI

(Ellie’s coming soon I promise this finna get messy💀)

Warnings: marriage, talk of money, marriage problems, fighting, swearing, use of Y/n, sorta cockblock 😭, insinuated nsfw(future warning that there will be smut, infidelity, drinking etc)

Paring: Ellie x reader x Abby

Masterlist

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In the opulent world of East Egg, where extravagance and excess reign supreme, three women found themselves entwined in a tale of love, longing, and betrayal.

Y/n L/n, the definition ethereal beauty and grace, captivated all who crossed her path with her enchanting charm and porcelain exterior. But behind her facade of wealth and status, lay a heart yearning for something more profound than the shallow desires of the elite.

As the summer sun cast its golden glow upon the sprawling mansions of East Egg, the lines between past and desire blurred, and Y/n found herself entangled in a web of longing and deceit.

Three knocks were all it took for everything to change drastically, three knocks.

“Ahh Jesse it’s so lovely to see you” Abby smiled at Jesse as she ushered him inside the extravagant home. “How’ve you been” the walls were lined with photos of you and Abby, not that you minded but it often made you realize how lovely you felt when she was away at work or on trips, then again you felt lonely most of the time regardless of her being home.

“I’m great actually, I’m currently living across from you right over there” Jesse pointed through one the tall windows at what could be seen of the West Egg as he followed Abby “ it’s small, but it’s nice to be away and on my own you know?” he was met with a nod in response.

As Jesse stepped into the lavish foyer, his eyes immediately sought out Y/n, who peaked out from the couch. Despite the warmth of Abby's greeting, his attention remained fixated on Y/n, his heart pounding in his chest at the sight of her. It’d been so long since they had last seen each other. Although cousins they were more akin to siblings, being each other’s only friend for so long.

“Oh do they miss me back home” you giggled, gazing up at Jesse “people are crying in the streets, begging for you to return home to us ”Y/n perked her head up slightly more. “in fact there’s been so many donations for you to return home they practically touch the ceiling”

Y/n's playful banter with Jesse masked the turmoil brewing within her. Despite the outward charm, she couldn't shake the feeling of being torn between two worlds, drifting in and out of thought which stopped when another voice added to the conversation. “Well if it isn’t Jesse~ to what do we owe the pleasure” Dina drifted into the room, laying beside Y/n on the couch. From what Jesse had heard Dina had been having family problems, not settling down was one of them but her attitude was another, so for the past 6 months Dina had been living with Y/n and Abby in a quest room- If you could even call a guest room equipped with its own living room and pool a guest room.

“I’m currently visiting for the summer, well until I find a job in the city, I’ll still be living around here regardless but I’d like to get a go at it before committing to a place” he smiled “mmmmm the city~ oh I’d go down there more if someone didn’t wollow in their own self pity all the time” Dina interrupted Jesse before he could ask in more detail what she was referring to “ Where do you live anyway?” Jesse once again pointed outside through one of the tall beautiful windows “over in the West Egg” her eyes widened “The West Egg?! I go over there for parties all the time! Someone named Williams throws them they’re wonderful” Y/n perked up “ Williams?” Abby let out a cough before Y/n ask or say anything more.

“Speaking of all this West Egg-East Egg nonsense why don’t you go show Jesse around huh Dina, keep yourself busy? Me and Y/n need to discuss something” before Dina could protest Y/n spoke out “ but he just got here why don’t we-” “we need to talk” the conversation ended there and Jesse made his way to the front door accompanied by Dina.

As Jesse and Dina stepped out onto the meticulously manicured grounds of the estate, the tension between them was palpable. Dina's playful demeanor had shifted, her gaze hardened as she eyed Jesse with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion.

"So, Jesse," Dina began, her voice tinged with intrigue, "what brings you to East Egg? Surely, there must be more to your visit than just catching up with old friends."

Jesse hesitated for a moment, his gaze drifting towards the distant horizon where the sprawling mansions of West Egg lay bathed in the golden light of the sun. "I suppose you could say I'm in search of something," he replied cryptically, his words laced with a hint of longing.

Dina arched an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. "And what might that be? Love? Adventure? Or perhaps something more... sinister?"

A wry smile played at the corners of Jesse's lips as he met Dina's gaze. "Perhaps a little bit of everything," he mused, his voice barely audible. Jesse's gaze softened, his eyes scanning the sprawling grounds of the estate as if searching for answers in the gentle breeze that rustled through the trees. “ what do you think they’re talking about anyway, seemed rushed, not that it’s any of my business-“

"Fighting, usually fighting nowadays," Dina replied, her voice tinged with a hint of resignation. "That or promises, lots and LOTS of promises” her voice dragged “then again that’s only Y/ns version never really cared to ask Abby. Not that’d she’d tell me anything of course " Dina retrieved a cigarette from her dress pocket and lit it “want one?”

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The tension in the room crackled like static electricity, the air heavy with unspoken words and unresolved emotions. Y/n's voice echoed off the walls, her frustration palpable as she confronted Abby, her words cutting through the silence like a knife.

Abby's smirk faltered, replaced by a steely resolve as she met Y/n's gaze head-on. "Oh, you're so full of yourself, you know that?! My cousins over and you just push him away! My family that YOU made me move away from!" Y/n's accusation hung in the air, but Abby refused to back down, her tone cold and calculated as she fired back, "Wow, I do? Is that why we have this house? If it wasn't for me, he wouldn't even be here! He wouldn’t have a place to visit without me! I’m the reason you have a home!” Her words struck a nerve, Y/n's breath caught in her throat, her heart pounding in her chest as she struggled to find the right words to respond. "That's not fair, Abby," she finally managed to choke out, her voice trembling with emotion. "You know it's not just about him or …… Dina or even the god damn house. It's about us, too."

But Abby remained unmoved, her facade of indifference crumbling under the weight of Y/n's words. "Is it, though?" she retorted, her voice dripping with anger and condescension. "Or is it about you, always wanting more, always reaching for something that's not fucking real? Or is it about you being spoiled and never fulfilled? Because I’m sure as fuck trying and you can’t seem to be happy so enlighten me why don’t you?! What could I possibly be doing to make you oh so unhappy?” Abby wiped the sweat away from her face with the back of her hand, she was so tired of arguing, so tired of drilling it into Y/n’s head that she was the only real family she had, the only person who could or would ever put up with her bullshit.

Y/n's eyes flashed with a mixture of hurt and frustration. The accusation stung, hitting too close to home, unraveling the carefully constructed facade of composure she had maintained for oh so long.

"You think this is about me wanting more?" Y/n's voice trembled with barely contained emotion, her hands balling into fists at her sides. "You think I'm not trying to be happy? You have no fucking idea what it's like, Abby. You have no idea what I've sacrificed, what I've given up for us."

But Abby still remained unmoved, her expression hardening with each passing moment. "And what exactly have you sacrificed, Y/n?" she shot back, her voice still with disdain. "Your precious reputation? Your endless pursuit of something that doesn't even exist?"

Y/n's breath caught in her throat, the weight of Abby's words crashing down on her like a tidal wave. "You don't understand," she whispered, her voice so low Abby had to strain to hear it. "You don't understand what it's like to feel trapped, to feel like you're suffocating under the weight of expectations and obligations." Y/n let out a sob and sat herself back on the couch.

Abby's gaze softened ever so slightly, a flicker of empathy shining through the facade of anger and resentment. "I may not understand everything, Y/n," she admitted quietly, her voice tinged with regret. "But I do know one thing—I love you, and I'll do whatever it takes to make things right between us."

Y/n's resolve wavered at Abby's confession, the walls Y/n had built around her heart crumbling in the face of genuine remorse. "I love you too, Abby," she whispered, tears glistening in her eyes. "But we can't keep pretending that everything is okay when it's not- you can’t use money to fix everything"

Y/n's breath caught in her throat as she looked into Abby's eyes, searching for sincerity amidst the heat of their argument. "It doesn't have to be this way," Abby murmured, her voice cracking with desperation. "I don't want us to keep hurting each other like this."

Her gaze softened, a flicker of remorse shining through her hard resolve. "I promise I'll work on this—on us, okay?" she offered, her voice gentle yet determined. "We'll figure it out together." Y/n let out a huff, her shoulders sagging with a mixture of relief and exhaustion. "I hope so," her voice barely above a whisper. "Because I can't take much more of this."

"I'll do better," Abby whispered, her voice laced with sincerity as she leaned down and pressed a soft kiss on Y/n's lips. It was a gentle reassurance, a silent promise of their shared commitment to mend what was broken. The kiss, initially tender and reassuring, deepened as their emotions ignited. Abby's lips molded against Y/n's with a newfound intensity, fueled by the raw passion and desire that simmered beneath the surface of their conflicted relationship. Y/n responded eagerly, her hands instinctively finding their way to Abby's waist, pulling her closer as they melted into each other's embrace, Abby’s hands groping her through her expensive summer dress.

With each lingering touch, sparks crackled between them, Abby's lips trailed from Y/n's mouth to the curve of her neck, leaving a trail of hot kisses in their wake. Y/n arched into her touch, a low moan escaping her lips as Abby's hands teased the sensitive skin along her thighs, inching higher with each tantalizing caress. Y/n pushed Abby’s thigh between her legs, rocking back and forth. Just as she was about to finally let Y/n feel an ounce of relief she stopped “Let’s not keep Jesse or Dina waiting hmm?” Abby smirked, Y/n's breath hitched as Abby's words broke through the haze of desire that enveloped them. “Please~ we can do it quickly please” Y/n begged, she tried to speed herself up but Abby gripped her waist, thumbs pressing onto her nipples, almost like you would hold a mannequin or doll. “Later, come on” With a soft whimper, she reluctantly pulled away from Abby, her body still humming with the lingering sensation her touch. "Fine," she managed to slip despite the strain, her voice thick with desire. "We shouldn't keep them waiting." As they composed themselves, a sly smile tugged at Y/n's lips, a silent promise of more to come lingering in the air between them. Abby place a firm hand on her ass as they left the room “ be good”

─┉┈◈◉◈┈┉─┉┈◈◉◈┈┉ ─┉┈◈◉◈┈┉─

“Oh no thank you I don’t smoke anymo-”

Dina interrupted yet again “what is it that you plan on doing in the city” Dina looked up at Jesse with a small smile.

Jesse glanced at Dina, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "Honestly, I'm not entirely sure yet," he admitted. "I suppose I'm looking for something... meaningful. Something that makes me feel alive, you know?"

Dina nodded, understanding dawning in her eyes. "I get that," she replied, a hint of wistfulness coloring her tone. "The city has a way of pulling you in, offering endless possibilities and adventures waiting to be discovered." "Yeah, exactly," Jesse agreed, a spark of excitement igniting within him. "I want to explore, to experience everything the city has to offer. Maybe even find a sense of purpose along the way."

Dina smiled, a knowing glint in her eyes. "Well, you've come to the right place then,- after all” she stopped her self midway by the sound of Y/n running down the front steps, Abby following behind her in a more relaxed manner. “Oh we’re going to the city for lunch Jesse you just have to come!” Y/n yelled. “Well they’re in a good mood” Dina rolled her eyes knowingly. Jesse chuckled at Dina's observation, nodding in agreement. "Seems like it," he replied with a grin. "I'd love to join you for lunch in the city. It'll be nice to explore a bit and maybe even find some inspiration for this project I’ve been wanting to write”

Y/n beamed at Jesse's response, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "Great! It's settled then," she exclaimed, her enthusiasm contagious. "I know this charming little cafe downtown that serves the best pastries. You'll love it, Jesse!" Y/n was practically bouncing, running a head to get to the car first”

Abby smiled warmly at Jesse, her earlier tension dissipating in the excitement of the moment. "It'll be a wonderful opportunity for us to catch up and enjoy each other's company,- sorry about earlier we just needed a moment” the blonde smiled. Jesse returned Abby's warm smile, understanding. "No need to apologize, Abby. I get it," he reassured her, his tone gentle. "We all have our moments, and sometimes we just need a little space to sort things out."

Abby's expression softened with gratitude, a sense of relief washing over her. "Thank you for understanding, Jesse," she replied, her voice tinged with sincerity. "You're a good friend”

“Jesus- could the two of you hurry I want a sandwich and some tea” Dina sighed, her playful impatience ended the moment as she glanced back at Abby and Jesse with a playful smirk. “Hurry!” She shouted again, running after Y/n and hopping into the car.

Tag list pookies: @sapphicontherun @bready101 (blogs won’t allow me to tag usually if you haven’t posted so for that I’ll @ mfs in the comments❤️)

[ghoul-bonez]

~Stars in Her Eyes, Stars in Her Heart~

Chapter 6: Almost as Much as She Admires You

(Kiri x Fem! Avatar! Reader)

Summary: Flight was something so special, it was something not everyone got to experience, and you were glad you had the chance to feel the wind through your hair, to feel the freedom, and touch the sky.

Word count: 1.1k

Author’s note: N/a

Last - Next

~Series Masterlist~

~Main Masterlist~

Almost as Much as She Admires You

Day two of pa’li training had gone much better than day one. You had come into day two with a confidence Kiri had never seen anyone else possess. Your confidence was bumped down a bit when you fell off a few more times, but then it happened. You did it, rode the animal around the clearing without falling off, and Kiri couldn’t be more proud of you.

On day three you and Kiri rode around the forest all day, goofing off while also making sure you could actually ride the pa’li, not just for a couple minutes. There were a couple mishaps where you almost ran into a tree, and almost tripped over a couple fallen branches, but you made it through the day without any serious injuries. Other than the bumps your ego had taken every time you “almost died”, in your words, not Kiri’s.

Today was a new day though, and Kiri wanted to do something different. She wanted to do something exciting, and she knew you did too.

When Kiri had gotten to your meeting place she hid behind a tree, crouching down and looking around to watch you. She called out to you with a bird call.

Your ears twitched in her direction, but you didn’t seem to think much about the strange sound, probably figuring it was some bird in a tree somewhere.

Kiri giggled quietly, chirping again, and again your ears twitched, but no moves were made.

Kiri started moving around the area, from tree to tree, calling out every once and awhile. She carefully watched your reaction each time. Observing you.

When you made no moves, simply sitting there, waiting, Kiri jumped out behind you, grabbing you and pulling you backwards to fall on your back.

“Good morning.” Kiri smiled above you. The sun beamed behind her, making it look like she had a halo. It made her look ethereal. Like she was the center of the sun, and she was. Her heart was bright and her emotions burned strong.

You snapped out of your thoughts, smiling back at Kiri, “Good morning.”

Kiri moved to lay next to you, rolling in the soft grass beneath her for a second before turning back to you, “I have exciting plans for today.”

You smiled back at her, glowing, “Oh yeah?”

“I want you to fly. Now that you have ridden a pa’li I want you to ride an ikran. To feel the difference in speed and what it’s like to be in the sky. You don’t have your own, so I’m going to let you ride mine.” she explained.

You remembered ikran being a mountain banshee, one of the many creatures Kiri had taught you about, “I’ve only ever heard about ikrans. I know there's a story about an avatar who claimed one that goes around the scientists every once in a while. Usually when someone new comes on base.”

Kiri cringed about that, that avatar is her dad, but she ignored that, “Well you might get that chance someday.”

You gasped loudly, “Really?”

Kiri nodded her head, “Yeah, but that will be far into the future.”

You smirked, your competitive side coming out, “I heard the other avatar did it in like three months, I’m gonna beat his record.”

“Now that you say that I’m gonna make sure you’re not going to beat his record.” Kiri smiled at her “innocently”.

“That’s not fair! I need to win!” You whined as obnoxiously as possible.

Kiri thought for a second, “Actually I would love to see the look on his face when I tell him someone I’m teaching beat his record. Let’s do it, but we can’t rush it. If you’re not ready on time you’re not doing it.”

You chose to skip over the last part, sure you would be ready, “You know him?” Curiosity shone in your voice.

“Yeah, forgot to mention he’s my dad.” Kiri shrugged her shoulders and your mouth dropped open dramatically. When you didn’t say anything else Kiri figured the conversation was over.

Kiri called out once again, like she had been earlier to you, but this time something much larger than herself came swooping down into the forest, landing next to them.

You mumbled “Holy shit.” looking all over the creature. Kiri laughed, you were afraid of pa’li, but not this?

“Don’t look her in the eye.” Kiri warned.

You quickly lowered your eyes to the ground, going ridgid where you stood. You looked up again when you felt the warmth of Kiri standing next to you leave, and watched as she approached the large flying animal.

“Come on.” Kiri waved you over.

You inched your way closer, cautiously, and once you were close enough Kiri took your hand, holding it in hers as she pulled it towards her ikran’s neck, placing your hand on it.

It was smooth, an interesting feeling much like most of the creatures of Pandora. You would never get over everything’s lack of hair. Why did none of the animals have hair?

You continued petting the creature while Kiri climbed up situating herself on the saddle. She made sure to leave enough room in front of her for you to sit comfortably.

When Kiri was ready she reached her hand down to you, “Hop on.” she said.

You used the stirrups on the saddle to hop up and sit yourself in front of Kiri, “Alright, I am terrified, but I think I’m ready.” You admitted.

When you said you were ready Kiri moved her tswin towards her ikran’s, and as Kiri was making tsaheylu with her ikran she heard a whisper in the wind, “She will admire the sky, and everything it brings, almost as much as she admires you.”

You took off quickly, shooting upwards and climbing higher and higher into the air. You let out a loud shriek that ended in loud boisterous laughter. You threw your arms up in the air like you were on a rollercoaster, letting out a loud yell.

Kiri held you tightly and watched the excitement and joy on your face as you flew, slowing down now that you were high enough in the sky. Even when they slowed down you kept beaming, your smile was as bright as a burning star.

You admired Kiri more than anything else, but right now you were enamored by the sky. The feeling of the wind on your face, through your hair. The warm sun beamed down on you. The warmth seeped into your soul, burning you like Kiri does. You wanted to fly high enough to touch the clouds, to feel the coolness of the water droplets on your warm skin.

Flying felt like freedom, but terror also came with it. You had heard the story of a man who had flown too close to the sun, and you felt you were heading towards that. Literally as you were going up, towards the beaming star above you. Figuratively as you leaned back against Kiri, for a second allowing yourself to be engulfed in the flames of the brightest star in your sky.

Word Bank:

Pa’li (Direhorse)

Ikran (Mountain Banshee)

Mountain Banshee (Large flying creatures, Na’vi air transportation)

Tswin (Neural Queue)

Tsaheylu (The Bond)

[maleficore]

I really don't think I'll ever get to actually writing it this decade because I have just That Many other wips and this story is Long, but my god I keep rolling that RDR2 Modern AU of mine in my head like a pretty pebble and I have Many Thoughts. Looong ramble under the cut.

The general gist of it that it's supposed to be a "happy ending" to a true crime story, but it isn't. Not for a long while, at least. Like imagine watching a 45 minute documentary on a missing person's case, the credits roll and you're like "Wow so happy that they turned up in the end" but on the other side of the country that person has been having the worst fucking time for the past year and would've probably been better off missing.

Let me explain.

Up until May 1999 the story plays out like your run of the mill Modern AU that is kept as close to canon as I can make it. Of course some things are different in the way that comes from throwing everything a 100 years into the future like how Eliza and Isaac died in a car accident, not a home robbery. People have jobs that are different, some backstories needed to be adjusted. Arthur's last name is Matthews and not Morgan, having been adopted by Hosea and Bessie when he was around 8 or so. Him and Mary have actually been married, but it still didn't work out. Small divergences, seemingly inconsequential.

Then on May 18th Arthur Matthews goes missing. Leaves no clues as to what might've caused him to leave and where, had showed no signs anything could be wrong before he disappeared. A proper mystery. Of course it's a big thing for a while, Hosea being a pretty well known crook defence lawyer makes it interesting for the news, but after 6 months of nothing even the nastiest vultures get bored and everyone pretty much assumes Arthur to have died. Especially since he's well known to be a recovering alcoholic with multiple relapses under his belt. Probably fell off the wagon again, tripped into a ditch, hit his head. Dead.

That's when Arthur Morgan shows up.

It's up to the reader to decide if this is some universe warping time travel shenanigans or if he's the same person that went missing, just having an episode of some sorts. To everyone in the story Arthur "I'm telling you, I jumped off a sinking boat in 1899 and then showed up here" Morgan comes off as Mentally Unwell, so it doesn't really matter since it is not told from his perspective anyway and there's no way of really knowing.

(It's John's POV by the way. Forgot to mention that, whoopsie.)

And the entire story is basically a whumpy hate letter to all time travel AUs where Arthur gets yeeted into our times and pretty much shrugs it off with minor discomfort (/lh I don't actually hate those, they're silly fun, but they're not realistic?? And I am a realism nerd). Here, he gets majorly fucked up by it. Because how could he not be? First off, Hosea, who he just watched die maybe days prior, is alive and well. So is Sean and so is Lenny. He may be happy, but all that only makes everything feel even less real, pushes him further into believing that the reality he's in is some sort of a mirage or a dream. People talk about all these things that have not happened to him, there are pictures of a stranger with his face in places he's never been to. It's distressing and Arthur might be a guy that handles pressure well, but I doubt there's a single person on earth that wouldn't break under the weight of that. He's no different.

He keeps getting really distressed whenever that kind of stuff gets brought up too often. Starts having regular panic attacks, gets put on medication, sent to therapy. The "gang" are there to help him through it, but the situation takes a lot out John in particular once he realises that whatever has happened to Arthur seems unlikely to be reversed. Just as much as the person in every single family picture is a stranger to Arthur, this Arthur is a stranger to John. It's like he really died in a way. So the plot is just as much Arthur learning to cope and maybe eventually accepting that all of this is real and he's just "crazy", as John watching him go through it while simultaneously grieving the person he no longer is.

Basically an essay pondering the question "What makes us who we are, our memories or personality?" disguised as a fanfic because I like getting philosophical sometimes lol And I genuinely love it. This AU is my baby and really want to work on it, but it would have to straight up be a novel-length story. I don't have that in me 😭😭

[aquagrunt]

life update

so my husband walked out of his job last Wednesday bc they were absolutely fucking awful & an incident occurred that was so beyond mishandled and insane that he no longer felt safe working there.

we have been planning on moving to the Minneapolis/st Paul area sometime in the near future. This has been our plan for the last two years.

he had an interview with a company in the twin cities that we are waiting on hearing back from, but he felt that the interview went well. It would be the exact same job he was doing at his old job. problem is that they want him to start in like. a month.

Now MY job as some of you know is bridal store manager. the bridal store that I work for is a failing business (and has been as long as I’ve been there [10 years]) and I am the ONLY employee and work directly with my boss/the store owner. small business you know. so as you can imagine… immensely improper relationship (she thinks of me like a daughter she never had). at one point many years ago I was planning on buying the store; as I explained earlier this business is NOT profitable and any bank would laugh at anyone trying to take a loan out to buy this business. so I told her that I was not buying the business anymore like. 5/6 years ago? and told her when we made our minds up to move to the twin cities two years ago. originally gave her a timeline for the move at anywhere from 2-4 years.

well, of course she did nothing to plan for me leaving. and now that I very much could be leaving in a couple months is all like “WELL I just don’t know how you expect us to sell everything off ((for the purpose of closing the business)) by then” and is giving me intense guilt trips about this. and wants to hire someone (? literally who is going to work somewhere that’s actively trying to close ?) and all this and expects me to stay on through busy season (which will end after October) because we have weddings with tuxes on the books. and it’s just all so much!!!

AND on top of that, I have to try to find a job when I haven’t been doing that in 10 years, we have to try to find a place there that will be affordable and close enough to our jobs, AND we own our house here so we have to sell it, AND we have to move four hours away and have a shitload of junk that we have to figure out what to do with. we’re planning on renting for a year before we buy a house there just so we really know if we like it there & also so it’s not so hard to go to showings and stuff for houses (like it would be from 250 miles away)

I have lived in the town I live in my whole life. my entire family is within 15 minutes of us (minus a few). it’s not as hard for my husband who has moved away from his family before.

It’s all so sudden and so stressful and I don’t think he really understands just how scary and hard this is for me. I do want to move. But I thought I had at least until next year. My grandma is 90 years old and I don’t want to be that far away from her. my grandpa went so suddenly and I don’t know if I could live with myself if the same thing happened to my grandma and I didn’t get to say goodbye.

also unrelated but I got a bad manicure today.

[youdonthavetocallmedarlinnn]

It's been a few days since I've updated about my soul mate voluntarily leaving for rehab. This Friday will be three weeks since I've seen the love of my life. Summer was always our time. We always went on trips and took my nephews to cool places. This picture is from last summer when we took them to the beach for a few days. I know he'll be home soon but I find it hard to enjoy my normal summer activities like porch sitting for one because we always brought our crap out on the porch. I'd do my macrame and he'd do whatever it is he was into at the time like woodworking or stained glass. He sold the saw I got him for drugs this past winter. Sadly that was something he really cared about and it was in that and many other moments where I feared the person that loved might be getting too far gone.

Thankfully, he knew he needed help and made the decision that a lot of people get forced into by their family or the criminal justice system. He's been there before but this time is different because he chose to go on his own. Set it up and left of his own accord. As much as I miss him and I'm lonesome without him that one fact keeps me going. He's doing this for himself but also for us and our potential future.

So yea I might be sad that my best friend/soulmate/love of my life/father to our cats isn't here to reel in the beginning of summer with me with random adventures but I'm also so proud of him. When he calls and I hear his voice and he sounds like the man I fell on love with it reminds me that this will all be worth it soon enough.

I don't want to go through this ever again but I know that with recovery there is always a chance of relapse but every time he chooses to get help or takes the time ask for it or goes to his meetings he continues to build his personal blueprint for recovery. I have also learned more about his signs and mannerisms leading up to relapse so hopefully if it ever does happen again we can detour it even sooner than this time. 6 months doesn't seem very long but it was the longest of my life. I'm just ready for my person to come home and we can continue supporting and loving one another through the good times and the bad.

My family worries about what I'll do if he relapses again and I haven't had the heart to tell them that it won't matter. That is the live of my life and I am going to see him through because he would do the same for me. He's not a bad person even when he's on drugs. He's the gentlest spirit and I could never abandon him. I'm going to school to become a substance abuse counselor. How could I abandon the person I love if my career choice is to help the people that are like him? I want to do this with him and hopefully he will want to offer himself in service to those that are like him as well.

We're about halfway through, and then I hug and kiss the person that I love most in this world. We can heal and grow together like we were before, and I will do everything I can to help him in his recovery. I won't ever abandon him.

[professorsaber]

It looks like AO3 is still down, so here’s my McFly July entry for July 11

This is a sequel to July 8, which I’m posting here.

11. Back in the Saddle

Saturday, March 9, 1996 12:04 PM

In the days after Clara got her driver’s license, Marty felt that both she and Doc were acting rather strangely.  When they had gotten home that afternoon, they had asked Marty and Jennifer to leave.  “Family issue,” Doc had said, but their kids didn’t seem to be aware of anything when Marty and Jennifer had picked them up from school.  And Marty had called Doc three times in the time since, and each time their conversation had been curt and brief.

With the Pinheads’ second album scheduled for release in only three months, and with most of the songs as-yet unwritten, the entire band had planned on spending the whole day in the recording studio that Marty and Jennifer had built into their new home.  But when Doc called first thing in the morning to invite Marty out horseback riding, Marty had to see him.

“Go,” Jennifer had said.  “Figure out what’s happening.”  She had smirked.  “Besides, I bet Steve fifty bucks I know what’s happening.”

And so, Marty headed straight for the Brown Ranch.  Once they were out riding, Marty, unsure about addressing the issue directly, said, “You know, I can’t quite remember the last time I was on horseback.”

“Wouldn’t it have been when you diverted those fugitive slave hunters?”

“Yeah, I suppose so,” Marty said.  “I know that was in 1853, but how long ago was that from, you know, here?”

“That trip was eight months ago, I believe.”

“I meant to ask, we changed history, didn’t we?”

“Presumably,” Doc said.  “Though frankly, under the circumstances, I could not care less.”

Rescuing runaway slaves.  Marty had to agree.

They headed out for nearly a mile after that in silence, their horses moving at a slow trot.

“You’ve been scaring me, Doc,” Marty said.

Doc exhaled.  “I know, and I’m sorry Marty.  Frankly, Clara and I were both a little startled by what’s happened.”

When it became clear Doc wasn’t going to say any more, Marty said, “Are you going to tell me?”

Doc nodded to himself.  “Clara’s pregnant.”

“And that’s bad?”

“No!” Doc said.  “No, hardly.  But it was entirely unexpected—we’ve been taking what we thought were sufficient precautions in regards to contraception—and it seems both of us have been caught in old patterns of thinking on the issue.”

He glanced at Marty before continuing.  “With both Jules and Verne, we were adding two people into the timestream who had never existed before.  And whose very existence could have possibly upended the timeline and drastically altered—we feared we would have to tell them that they could never be exceptional, never amount to anything, never be anything more than footnotes in history for fear that any action might destroy the future.  Add to that the dangers involved in 19th century pregnancies and both Clara and I were on the edge of panic for months.”

“But none of that applies anymore.”

“Clara and I both know that rationally,” Doc said.  “But for some reason we both have had adverse emotional reactions.  It seems that irrationally, our minds remain in the literal past.”

They reached the top of a hill at the edge of Doc’s property.  From the hill the ranch house and even parts of Hill Valley, miles away, were visible.

Marty nodded at the town.  “You’re not going to destroy that if you have more kids, Doc.”

“We’re both aware that we’ve been foolish about this,” Doc said.  “And yet—could you do me a favor, Marty?”

“What do you have in mind?”

* * *

Saturday, March 9, 1996 6:30 PM

“Well,” Jennifer said that evening, “at least I got fifty bucks out of Steve.”

Marty laughed.  “You don’t think they were being weird about it?”

“I guess it’s always a little nerve-wracking, having kids,” she said.  “Still, having you go all the way to 2026 to make sure things will turn out…”

Marty thought of the invitation he had swiped from the future.

Together with their families,

Martin Seamus McFly, Junior and Pauline Nightingale Brown

invite you to attend their wedding

Saturday, July 11, 2026

at precisely three o’clock in the afternoon

Brown Ranch 42360 Big Ranch Road Hill Valley, California

“Yeah,” Marty said.  “They’ll turn out.”

END

[princeofconjurers]

[[ It is That Time.

Watching a bootleg of Phantom on YouTube because we don't have a DVD player right now and Phantom is only streaming if you pay for it right now.

I first saw this musical 20 years ago (well, it will be 20 years ago in October, didn't quite get to 20 years. I wanted to see it for my birthday this year in October for the 20th anniversary of seeing it on Broadway but unfortunately that won't happen, even though I'm moving close to New York later this month).

I am so glad I got to see it three times on Broadway when in New York last month. I didn't know if I'd be able to see it again and I ended up seeing it three times on that trip. Such a beautiful production.

I heard Laird Mackintosh is the Phantom for the final performance? Is that true? I love him. Ten years ago he was I think Andre when I saw it twice on Broadway. He's put so much into Phantom. I also heard that Ben hasn't performed at all this month. Strange. I hope he's okay.

The first (Oct. 2003), second and third (Nov. 2013) times I saw Phantom on Broadway, Hugh Panaro was the Phantom and he's one of my favorites (as you might guess from the icon), even though the first was ten years before the second and third (that I saw two days in a row).

The fourth, fifth and sixth times (which was last month, March 2023, two days in a row then one day break in between for the third) it was Ben Crawford.

Somewhere between that I saw it twice on tour, once at Pantages with Chris Mann (July 2015) and the other at the Segerstrom with Derrick Davis (July 2019). I'd previously met Chris Mann on his tour for The Voice.

Also Love Never Dies at the Pantages with Gardar Thor Cortes as Mister Y (April 2018).

I still have the DVD of the 2004 movie I got as soon as it came out on DVD when I was like 8 (9? When did the DVD itself come out?) it doesn't work anymore and I have a different one to replace it as well as the 25th anniversary production of course.

I really need to buy a Playbill to replace the one from when I saw it in 2003, which I have seen some on ebay so at some point I will get one. I also really want to replace the Andrew Lloyd Webber 2002 Gold CD which was the first way I listened to any Phantom songs before I saw it live. I fell in love with Music of the Night at 6 years old before I even saw the musical. This musical has meant so much to me and it helped me through a lot when I was 16-18, and the height of my Phantom obsession. I am still very proud of the Phantom collection I have, every English translation of the original novel and a French language one of course, so many DVDs and a few VHS tapes, CDs, cassette tapes, books of and about Phantom and its adaptations. I've written papers on this story for college. I have seen so many adaptations, met my best friend and love because of Phantom and had many wonderful friendships because of this story.

I will miss you, Phantom on Broadway, which was my first introduction to this wonderful, tragic story. I will see you again once you come back for your inevitable revival at some point in the future. 35 years is a long time and you've had a great run. The Majestic won't be the same without you. Break a leg to whatever will be in the Majestic next having to deal with any lingering ghosts in that theatre! The Phantom will always haunt that stage, I'm sure, it's been his home for 35 years. You are a beautiful theatre and it will be so strange to see something else in the Phantom's place.

I love you, I will always love you, I will miss you, and I can't wait for your return. ]]

[lovemesomesurveys]

1. What is something in your life that you feel hopeful about right now? Well, I finally tried edibles to see if it helps my anxiety at all, as well as my insomnia, appetite, and pain. I’ve had horrible anxiety, more so than ever, this past year and the medications my doctor would allow weren’t working. I was feeling really hopeless and scared. The only thing that did seem to help was my pain med, which of course isn’t its intended purpose but I was taking it for that as well, which wasn’t good. I finally decided to give edibles a try with the hope of course of it actually helping me and to also take less pills. 

2. What was the last thing you worried about that turned out better than expected? Well, I’ve been trying this new regimen for the past week now and figuring out the right dosages and how many a day and  so far it is working. I have definitely cut back on the pills, which is really good. 

3. Name somewhere you are planning on visiting in the near future? I sadly have no travel plans. I’m hoping perhaps my new “medication” will help me feel motivated and have the desire to want to get up out of bed more and perhaps at least take a drive to the beach and park as close as we can so I can enjoy it from the car. I’d take that over nothing right now. I really miss the beach. :( Like I said, though, I’m still playing around with the correct amount and what type I take for what. I need a mood lifter kind. While it has helped some of my issues, it also makes me really tired and have zero energy which is not helpful if I want to go somewhere.

4. How often do you go grocery shopping and how much food do you usually get in one go? My mom goes twice a month for our big grocery trips. We get a lot of stuff.

5. What is a meal you eat extremely often? Or do your meals & food choices vary a lot? I have cream of wheat for breakfast, Taco Bell at least 4-5 times a week, and I have a sandwich for lunch just about everyday. I have pizza fairly often, too. It’s so wild how my appetite has changed since being home from the hospital because prior to I ate a lot of chicken, particularly chicken wings. I had that all the time before and now it’s rare for me to get chicken wings or chicken strips. I don’t know why.

6. When was the last time you felt unable or unwilling to speak your mind to someone? That’s kinda just how I am for the most part. I’d like to speak up to a couple people, but I just want to cause any drama or hurt anyone’s feelings. I just imagine the conversation going completely wrong and everything getting twisted. I won’t be able to say what I want to say in the right way. I’m getting hurt, too, but it’s best I just don’t say anything.

7. What was the last thing you changed your mind about? I don’t recall.

8. Who was the last friend you saw, and what did you do together? I don’t have any friends.

9. Who tends to show up in your dreams? Do you ever wonder if you appear in anyone else's dreams? I always have random people pop up in my dreams for some reason. Like people I know, but I’m talking like for example this kid I went to elementary and middle school with. We weren’t friends, but acquaintances. I didn’t have a crush on him or anything either. Sooo, I really have no idea why he’s the one to pop up on my dreams randomly. 

10. What is something you wish you could say to someone who is no longer in your life, or something you wish they could know? I sometimes wish I could talk to Ty again and tell him some things, but I guess at this point it really doesn’t matter.

11. Instead of flat earth, what do you think of the simulated earth theory, that we're basically all just a giant computer program or virtual reality? Nah.

12. What worries you most about your future? I’m truly afraid of getting worse or never getting much better. I’m afraid of living a life mainly stuck in bed or at home. I’m afraid I won’t be able to travel again or go places. My future terrifies me.

13. What is something you do to feel better when you're scared? I have to just try to distract myself somehow. 14. Who do you feel you can count on the most in life? Is there anyone you wish you could count on more? My mom, 100%. I know I always can.

15. What makes you trust someone? When was the last time someone broke your trust? It’s usually just unless I have a reason or feeling that I shouldn’t. You just kind of vibe with someone and gauge how comfortable you feel and how much you want to share. 

16. When was the last time you shared a secret with someone, and how did they react? I don’t recall. 

17. Are you more likely to give advice or to ask for it? I used to be the one friends came to for advice all the time, but I’m certainly in no place to be giving advice to anyone right now. I also don’t ask for it generally. Very rarely. I keep a lot of shit to myself. 

18. When was the last time you felt totally lost, figuratively speaking? How about literally? >> I constantly feel lost, figuratively speaking. I almost never feel lost, literally speaking. <<<

19. In what ways are you emotionally strong? In what ways are you emotionally weak? I feel extremely weak emotionally. And physically.

20. What is the strangest book you have ever read? How did you find out about it? One of them that randomly came to mind is “The Giver.”

21. Do you prefer to watch movies or tv alone or with other people? Is there anything you refuse to watch alone? I much prefer watching with others. My mom, brother, and I have several shows we watch together. I find it fun to have someone to react and obsess with. 

22. What was the last thing you broke? How about fixed? I don’t recall.

23. Is there a sign or symbol that means a lot to you for whatever reason (eg. seeing certain animals or birds, 11:11 or other repeating numbers, syncs, butterflies, hearts in nature, etc)? My favorite number since I was a kid has been 8. That number comes up a lot in my life, too. The number 9 does as well. I don’t know what it means, if anything, but it’s interesting. 

24. Do you have any personal ghost stories or paranormal experiences? No.

25. What do you get complimented on the most? Ha, nothing anymore. I’m a mess. 

26. What is something unusual that you find attractive? I find hands attractive, but I think that’s not so unusual or uncommon. I can’t think of anything that would be “unusual.”

27. What time do you tend to eat your first meal of the day? And your last? I tend to eat around 11 or 12PM and my last meal around 8. 

28. What was the subject of the last video you watched? I’m watching a YouTuber that does a lot of videos on abandoned places and companies that went bankrupt and/or closed down. The one I’m watching now is about Bed, Bath, & Beyond. 

29. When was the last time you traveled out of town, and where to? Over a year ago to the beach. 

30. How would you describe your overall aesthetic? I don’t know, man.

[a-land-lacking-sleep]

Electric Trains are the Future Chapter 14: Hello God, it's Me

Previous Chapter (13) - Current Chapter - Next Chapter (Expect 6/7)

Here it is, the "Coming to God" moment that every RPG party culminates into. Atop Mt. Coronet, music is meant to be played, and by god, do these two know some jams.

As stated in the Chapter notes on AO3, I'll be taking a month break from this fic to focus on writing past Chapter 16, as well as get some work done on the other WIPs floating in my docs. Expected a finished Dragged from the Whorl within this time, and at least a chapter of A New Home, the Kamado fic that was voted for, in that time as well.

When I return to this fic, I will be posting a new chapter every Wednesday instead of Tuesday, due to a change in my work schedule. Depending on what I have finished, I may stagger these out by two weeks from here on out, but I will make that call when I return.

Chapter Summary: What is God to a believer? Is He Hope? Is He Despair? To Akari, He is an insurmountable wall. To Emmet, a challenge to be wrestled into the dirt if He defies him. Chapter Word Count: 6040

As always, read below or over on AO3 with additional notes! Reblogs and comments are appreciated!

Hikari looks up at the evening sky from the Moonview Arena. She had made good time, but even making good time takes most of the day when you’re going halfway across the region. Once she had gotten to the Highlands, Sneasler had sought her out and accompanied her. Not once did she offer to take Hikari up the cliffs, which the teen was silently very glad for. Even if she trusted Sneasler to climb safely, she didn’t want to be on the cliffs. She didn’t want her luck to get her killed before she could get Ingo and Elesa home.

But now that Hikari had gotten here, she was beginning to drag. Next to no sleep, that conversation with Kamado, and then a mad dash up the mountain. Knowing what was coming just made her want to take a quick trip down the cemetery and never deal with this mountain again. Fuck Arceus and His rules. This was too much. Could she persuade Him? Would He want her to ferry Him around to prove her worth? Fight Him to fulfill a final test? Would she even get to go home, or would she have to give up everything and just live here forever?

As her breathing begins to pick up, she feels Sneasler drape her arms over her shoulders and begin lightly grooming her hair, contorting herself so that she can lick her bangs back. While it didn’t lighten the mood like it normally did, it did help ground Hikari, and bring her back to this world. To Mt. Coronet. To Hisui.

Hikari breathes in deep. Akari lets out the breath. She needs to be ready for this.

“Well well, if it isn’t Everyone’s Favorite Little GruntTM,” Akari hears a condescending voice call from the Arena, signaling that Melli had caught sight of her as she lingered at the crossroad. She turns her head as much as she can with Sneasler still grooming her, and catches sight of him walking quickly towards her location. “Out without a chaperone? No one is at the Camp near my Lord’s Arena tonight, so why are you here?”

Akari pauses for a second, just staring at Melli blankly without saying anything for a few moments. “Oh, don’t give me that look,” Melli sneers, tossing his head to the side and causing his hair to flip beautifully. “You’re beginning to remind me of the old man before you showed up. Spacing out and never acknowledging anything I ask him.” He huffs in an exaggerated manner, cutting off whatever Akari was about to say. “And never even playing along that it was because of my greatness or beauty.”

The last little bit of Akari’s brain that was able to conjure humor found herself imagining a Herdier looking at a camera judgmentally, and had to hold back the snicker in his throat. But apparently a smile peeked through, because Melli’s own smile came across his face. “Though I am glad you can smile easier than he can. I heard he got himself hurt.” While Melli kept the smile, his eyes began showing worry as he said that. “How is the Warden doing? I know I harp about his age, but he’s hardier than that.”

“He is,” Akari finds herself saying softly. “He’s alive, thankfully. He was asleep when I left.” She was trying to sound normally, but even she could hear the flat tone in her voice that was as unnatural to her as the quiet volume was.

Melli’s smile faded to a worried look, and he stepped closer, then, most shockingly of all, knelt down to look at Akari straight on. “Akari, are you ok?” 

Akari winced strongly at that, causing Sneasler to grumble above her and double her effort on parting her hair. “Yes,” she quietly says, nodding slightly only to get Sneasler to move her chin back in place immediately and hold it there. When Melli squints at her in disbelief, Akari does her best to pout. “Really, I am.”

“You don’t look like it, Akari.” Melli reaches out and gently grabs Akari’s arm by the bicep, giving it a light squeeze as he tries to smile reassuringly for her. “He’ll be ok. There isn’t any reason to worry about it so heavily. Ingo is tough, and so are you. He’ll pull through.” He then pauses and gives one of his usual smug grins. “Because otherwise he won’t get to see this pretty face again, and we know that’s why he hangs around the Highlands so much.”

That comment finally gets Sneasler to stop grooming Akari’s hair for a moment and gets a low growl out of her. “Quiet, furball. You know he likes being around me,” Melli says as he straightens back up, dusting off the front of his pants. “Whatever you’re here to do, Akari, be safe. Ingo wouldn’t want to wake up and find you gone.” 

As he turns to walk away, Akari just nods quietly before coming to the decision that she probably should verbally respond. “I’ll do my best.” It was the honest answer, but it made Melli pause, and look back at her, worry creeping back into his eyes above his impassive expression.

After another brief moment, he shakes his head in mocked disbelief. “Alright then. Well, I want you to know that I was making enough stew for me and the old man.” He turns back towards his yurt by the Arena and begins walking. “You better come by before you leave to try some and tell him what he missed before you go back to the Village!”

Akari smiles briefly at Melli letting his mask fall, before sighing and physically drooping as the weight of what was coming sunk in. Melli was expecting her to be safe and alive when she returns. But she may not. She didn’t say good-bye to anyone in Jubilife, and she may not return.

Shaking, she turns to Sneasler and hugs her tight, doing her best to stay collected. Sneasler wraps her arms around Akari, being sure not to get her claws near the girl, just calmly holding her as Akari silently sobs. Finally, after a few moments, Akari backs away from Sneasler, rubbing her eyes with the heels of her hands. “Ok. I’m good now.” Sneasler makes a noise that sound like disagreement, and Akari gives her a sharp look. “Really. I’m good to go.”

Shrugging to herself and shaking her head, Sneasler turns and begins walking up the path to the Temple, with Akari in tow. The both of them were trying to act calm as they walk the path to the cave entrance, but as they do so, the Pokemon that normally live in the way all give them wide berths. Normally, even with Lady Sneasler, some of the more aggressive species like Electabuzz would throw a warning attack at Akari. But, either due to the vibe the pair gave off, or some other energy that surrounded the pair, each Pokemon gave them space. Even the Alpha Electivire keeps a distance from them, only idly eyeing them as they pass.

Finally, the pair enter the cavern, and Akari has to suppress a shiver. In this cave, where it opens up, Beni had tried to kill her. At least, it felt like he was trying to kill her. He went away after a Pokemon battle, but the way he was talking at the time felt dangerous. And after that, Volo had stopped her here on the way to confront the frenzied Dialga and gush about the symbols on the wall. And then later to give one final hint about his plans before attempting to kill her.

This mountain top and Temple were a very bad place for her. A lot of attempted murder happened here.

Despite that, though, stepping out onto the open peak of Mt. Coronet left Akari filled with an odd peace. Sneasler still stands a few steps behind her, both backing her up and ensuring that she has an escape route. Akari nods gently to Sneasler, then begins to go up the stairs leading to the ruined Temple, not even pausing as she sees the pillars once more as she crests the top. The words Volo said flashes through her mind, “Pillars now turned to spears, stabbing into the heavens”. 

Akari pauses, and brings her hand down to wrap it around the Ultra Ball that contains Giratina. “Oh.” She had left her team behind, and only brought the Creation Trio with her, assuming that if she were to speak with Arceus, having His children as back up would be helpful. But she had been here before, and never made the connection that this isn’t just the Temple of Sinnoh.

Cyrus had very nearly succeeded where Volo failed, right on that same dias. Both had pulled Dialga and Palkia into a frenzy, with Hi- with Akari being the only trainer able to stand up and put a stop to it. The only difference was the Pokemon in her hand - Giratina. With Volo, Giratina had been a part of the problem, trying to tear everything apart to bring down their Father. But when Cyrus had put forth the same plan, they were the one who put a stop to it by destroying the Red Chain and pulling Cyrus into the Distortion World.

Akari brings the Pokeball in her hand to her forehead and closes her eyes. “Will you back me up on this, Gira?” She can’t hear their voice, but she can feel their presence through the ball; Smoke swirls around her head, and a sense of consolation fills her. With a small smile, she puts the ball back onto her belt, and instead pulls out the Azure Flute as Sneasler follows her to the dias.

Akari knew the tune that she needed to play. It came naturally to her when she held the Azure Flute to her lips. Take the initial arpeggio from the traditional mount summons, and expand upon it in a way reserved only for something higher than them. But even with this knowledge implanted into her mind, she finds herself stumbling over the notes, before she finally just gives up. Akari shakingly lets out her breath.

Then Hikari breathes back in, and puts the flute back to her mouth. Hikari thinks back to her home in Twinleaf, growing up with Barry among the forest. She thinks back to her mother cooking her dinner for her birthday the year she started her Pokemon journey. The sound of the Lake Verity’s waves gently lapping against the grass as she and Barry and their mothers would have their picnics during the summer. And finally, the lullaby that her mother would hum and sing for her whenever she had nightmares during childhood.

What was this but an ongoing nightmare? And so, with tears falling down her face, Hikari began to play the only song that she could think of. A song from her home.

The only way Hikari can describe it is that the notes float through the air, filling the space that used to be contained by the roof of the Temple. She could hear Sneasler, very softly, near her still. Finally, she reaches the end of her memories of the lullaby, and lowers the Flute from her lips. Opening her eyes, she watches the sun fully disappear under the water in the far distance, the glow of the sunset still painting the lower portions of the sky.

All at once, the glow is snuffed out, and the entire world outside of the Spear Pillar goes black. Sneasler jumps forward at this, putting herself in front of Hikari, her lips pulled back in a snarl. In front of the pair, the ground glows a soft blue, and steps begin to rise up into the air.

Ye hast sought out all Pokemon. Rise to meet thy final challenge, and catch thy final quarry.

Hikari drops the Flute from her hands, the ceramic instrument bouncing to the side as she struggles to stay standing. “W-Wait…” She finally takes a breath, and a step back, looking up the staircase. “Final… You have more?”

Before she can even do anything, Sneasler lets out a nasty yowl, the sound coming from her carrying throughout the Temple grounds, and surely up the stairs to… Arceus? ‘She has done what you’ve asked for!’ a voice calls from around Hikari as she falls to her knees, tears coming down her face anew.. ‘Seeking out all the Pokemon in this land! And you ask her for more?!’

Ah, young Lady Sneasler. I understand thine ire. I have but one last te-

‘No more tests, Sinnoh!’ Sneasler shouts up to the uncaring sky above, cutting off Arceus. The Noble steps forward, putting her foot onto the first step and throwing her arms out to the sides. ‘Look at her! You claim her as your Champion, and treat her like a toy!’ When no response comes but the quiet sobbing of Hikari behind her, Sneasler takes a few more steps up the staircase, her arms dropping and her claws tapping each step as she climbs. ‘You gave my ancestors an edict to work with and take care of humanity as long as it existed in Hisui! I cannot allow you to treat a young girl like this!’

Silence. Tink-tink. Silence. Tink-tink. Silence. Tink-Ti-

Ye need not move any further.

In a blinding flash of light, the stairs disappear from underneath Sneasler, causing her to fall 15 feet onto the Temple floor. It is quickly followed by another flash, one much larger and more centralized in front of the duo. In front of the two now, looking over the seething Noble Sneasler and the sobbing Champion Hikari, is the Alpha. 

Arceus.

I see my Champion was not prepared.

The tone is was will be impossible to read. The words make Hikari think He is uncaring, but she can parse no emotion from the voice that fills all of existence. The only other sound she can hear at this point is the rattling of the three balls on his waist, before they finally all burst open. Standing across from Arceus is His three Children - Dialga, the Eldest Son and Lord of Time; Palkia, the Middle Child and Lord of Space; and Giratina, the Banished Child and Lord of Distortion.

The Trio look at their Father silently, each of them attempting to burn holes into His body through sheer willpower as He looks at them each in turn. Finally, after a few moments, a few eternal neverending moments, He looks down at Hikari’s crying form.

Take thy time. Collect thyself and tell me what has brought you here.

Hikari continues to lay on the stone floor, Sneasler standing guard in front of her to keep Arceus away from her, while Giratina shrinks down and coils around the girl to be an additional layer of physical protection. It’s not for several long minutes before she stops sobbing and tries to push herself up, quickly getting assistance from Giratina and Palkia to sit, and then stand up. “Did… Did you even bother looking when I called you?”

Arceus lowers His head.

I was working on another moment. I had not seen thine own situation.

‘You claim omniscience, and then use that excuse?’ Giratina snaps, slithering away from Akari and growing in size to face their Father. ‘You claim omnipotence and rely on a child to stop me.’

‘Now isn’t the time for that, Giratina,’ Dialga says, stepping forward to stand on their left, still facing Arceus.

‘I have to agree,’ Palkia adds, stepping opposite of its counterpart to Giratina’s right. ‘Our Hero and Father’s Champion has a request. One that I believe you told her needed to be done by him.’

Giratina churns for several seconds, smoke billowing from their mouth, before they turn around and rapidly shrink to shoot under Hikari’s hood. With Giratina no longer making a show of defiance, the other two step back, and Arceus leans His neck down to look at Hikari over Sneasler’s head.

Hikari Mifune. Akari of the Galaxy Team. My Champion. What is thy desire? Why hast ye called out to me?

Hikari looks Arceus in the eye, then slowly watches His form become blurrier as tears began to spill over again. “My Uncle, Ingo. He… He’s hurt, and it’s my fault!” She hadn’t meant to shout, but she did, and quickly Sneasler was there to wrap her arms around Hikari. “He fell off of the cliff because I tried rushing, and he wasn’t paying attention!” She swallows the sob that nearly broke through her voice, and shakes her head, then buries her face into Sneasler’s fur.

After a few moments of silence, she speaks back up. “And I stole Elesa from Ingo’s brother…” She sniffs and pulls away from Sneasler, looking back at Arceus. “I used Dialga and Palkia to open up a distortion to try and get Uncle Ingo’s brother, and I grabbed Elesa instead… And now she’s stuck here. Because I’m a failure and I can’t even do your requests.”

“I just want them to be safe, and home, with their families,” Hikari finally says, tears running down her face without hesitancy. “I want them…” She pauses for a moment, before shouting. “I want to go home!” 

She turns away from both Sneasler and Arceus, kicking the Azure Flute across the Temple floor into a pillar. “I miss my mom! I miss Aunt Cynthia! I miss Barry, and Lucas, and Professor Rowan! I miss my biggest responsibility being public appearances, and my biggest worry being whether or not I could pass tests while on a Trainer’s License!” She squats down, and looks down at the floor. “I hate being stuck here. I love it in Hisui, but… I miss home. So much…”

Arceus silently watches Hikari, then straightens up and looks to His left, where a crack in the air was forming, white light pouring out.

Thine answer is soon on its way, young Hikari.

—

X       X |    O    | X       X

—

Emmet and Ingo used to curse how hot the coats could get down in the Subways. They had chosen the design to be the logical conclusion of a Depot Agent’s uniform, with a hint of their own personal fascination with the trains that led them there. The coats were meant to have them stand out in a crowd for ease of sight, to differentiate from other workers, and to help buff up their admittedly scrawny physique to make the pair into more intimidating figures during battle. All of that led to large coats, which were heavy enough to withstand a stray Pokemon move, but not light enough for use in a desert city like Nimbasa.

But up in the mountain paths of Mt. Coronet, Emmet found himself the best equipped for the snow and the wind. He stays only a few steps behind Cynthia and Volo, the pair of blonds leading himself and Elio through the caverns and barely used mountain trails of the Highlands. He had walked this area once before, the week he had come to visit his brother’s grave, but they had already passed the area he’d made sure to stop at. From here, it was a test of his own stamina.

In his bag, Emmet could feel the odd weight of an object that should not be out of its museum exhibit - The Azure Flute. It really wasn’t like a flute, Emmet had thought, but even in Kantonian it’s called the Heaven’s Flute, so whatever works for Arceus. Initially, he had tried to hand it off to Cynthia, but she rejected it on the basis that Arceus hadn’t answered her the first time she tried. Volo outright refused to touch it, saying he was unworthy of “Sinnoh’s Blessing”. And Elio had backed out of using it on account of mostly being here for the ride, and having worries that having Solgaleo would taint the results.

So it all fell to Emmet. He supposes that it makes sense thematically, since other than Cynthia, he’s the only one hoping for actual answers from the Alpha Pokemon Himself. They did have back up plans, because if they didn’t, then they were already admitting defeat. Cynthia has Dialga and Palkia with her, either to sway Arceus or to force their way to the past for their three targets. And even then, they had originally planned on using Solgaleo, so that option is always there. After all, Emmet loves winning more than anything else, and planning around contingencies where Gods are involved can’t be much more difficult than working doubles or multis day in and out, no?

“You doing alright, Uncle?” Elio says, hopping over to Emmet from where they had been chatting with Cynthia. “You’ve been quiet ever since we stopped by that cave back there.”

Emmet smiles, a customer service type rather than the resting smile he had been wearing for the better part of the day. “I am Emmet. Just a little winded, yup.” He makes a show of taking a deep breath before exhaling, steam blowing out of his nose in the cold air. “That cave back there was a Sneasler den according to old journals. I think it was Ingo’s Sneasler. I’m not sure.”

“Really?” Elio spins on their heel and looks back into the distance, trying to catch sight of the cave that the group had paused at momentarily to catch their breaths and make sure they were hydrated. “How do you know? Sneaslers have been gone for like, 90 years, right?”

Emmet nods curtly before looking down at the kid. “Roughly. Wild Sneasler died out around 1900. Captive ones died out around 1940.” Elio continues to walk backwards until Emmet reaches over and turns them around by the shoulder. “Safety check, Elio. Watch where you’re walking. We’re on a mountain.”

“Oh, sorry, Uncle!” Elio says, standing up straight and marching forward with their arms bent and fists balled.

“You two having fun back there?” Volo calls out from several yards ahead, where he and Cynthia had stopped by another cave entrance. “Cause we’re approaching the old Temple grounds. It’s through here.”

Emmet’s smile immediately strains, his eyes crinkling slightly as he picks up the pace, his arms swinging at his side. “Full steam ahead, then. We must arrive on schedule to our destination.” He does not pause as he passes by Cynthia and Volo, the two blonds simply following after him as he walks through the cavern. “No delays or disruptions can cross our paths at a time like this. Cynthia, do Pokemon usually live near here? Will we be disturbing nests?”

Cynthia shakes her head as the group approaches the waterfall in the cavern. “Most likely not,” she says, eyeing the Bronzong that were sitting silently along the walls of the cavern. “It seems the Pokemon here can sense the Lords of Time and Space in my possession. I doubt they will get involved.”

Volo laughs joylessly as he releases a Bibarel into the pool of water and climbs onto it. “One thing I’m constantly glad for is that Pokemon have become noticeably less dangerous as time goes on. In Hisui, we’d have to be fighting Pokemon off, even with a child of Sinnoh at our shoulders.” He wraps his arms around the Bibarel’s neck, as Cynthia climbs onto her Milotic and Elio puts out their Araquanid for themself and Emmet to climb onto. “When we get there, be careful around wild Pokemon. The only ones that will attack groups like this would be Alphas.”

When. When we get there.

The group didn’t say much else as they climbed the waterfall, and then the last few rooms of the cavern’s steady incline. Finally, they find themselves outside once more, the wind having died down but the snow still falling around them. Cynthia and Elio found themselves shivering while Emmet and Volo simply pulled their coats tighter around their bodies, pushing forward.

As the group walks through the snow, the shattered stone of Spear Pillar is already well within sight. Emmet at this point can’t even feel the cold. He is verrrry excited to see his brother again. He is verrrry excited to hold his wife in his arms. He is verrrry excited to travel back in time and do the impossible. Nothing was going to stop him at this point.

As the group moves among the ruins, Volo slows down and begins to inspect some of the pillars, briefly running his hands over the cold stone. At the 5th pillar, he slows, then stops at a jutted piece of marble. He bends down and wipes some of the snow away from the side.

Emmet huffs and stomps over to look over Volo’s shoulder at the stonework. “What is the cause of this delay? If we are to continue along these tracks toward our destination, then we must have no delays. Hesitation can cost us our course to victory.”

“This was a monument to Sneasler, one of the Nobles,” Volo says softly, trying to read the etchings on the marble. “They had written the name of Wardens for a time. I was looking for Ingo.”

Emmet nods softly before turning. “I am Emmet. I can see this with Ingo at another time. For now, we should focus.” He keeps walking towards the snow covered altar at the back of the ruin, Volo standing and following him with the others. Once at the altar, Emmet stops, and reaches into his bag to grab the Azure Flute, though he hesitates to pull it out. “Cynthia. Is there a song that we need to play? Is Arceus picky? I feel like a God would want a specific song.”

Cynthia thinks for a moment before nodding. “Yes, there is a song, but… I’m not sure what it is.” She looks over at Volo with a slightly concerned look. “There were records that the old Nobles would respond to Celestica Flutes, but no one has records of what they were specifically.”

Volo sighs and shakes his head. “They were taught to Wardens and those the Warden trusted with the knowledge, so they probably were lost when the Nobles began to pass away.” He closes his eyes and crosses his arms, thinking for a moment, before whistling a tune out over the wind. A tumbling arpeggio, repeated and then followed by three long, droning notes. 

“I am Emmet. If you expect me to mimic that, you have confused me for a Mr. Mime.” Emmet pauses for a moment, then looks down. “Very easy mistake, we both have funny shoes.”

Elio snickers loudly as Volo sighs and shrugs. “Whatever. If you have a chance to connect with Arceus yourself, then I’m sure any song could work.”

Emmet turns from the group, pulling out the Azure Flute and looking down at it. It really wasn’t a flute in Emmet’s mind, shaped like a Corsola or Pinchurin, and the holes all looked non-functional. But he had tried giving it a few experimental blows the night before they left, so he knows that it all works. In theory.

But any song? Emmet finds himself looking out, off of the mountain to the sea on the distant horizon. He can watch planes landing and leaving various cities in the distance, little more than blinking lights moving across the darkening evening sky. Here on this mountain, Ingo had lived. Lived a new life, one away from his family, one where he had no memories of anything before Hisui, but a desire to know what he had before.

Away from this mountain, lifetimes after Ingo had lived, he had instead lived with Emmet and their parents in Anville, in the quaint little Village by the train tracks. The life with their mother walking with them to the schoolhouse where she taught the older kids, on subjects much more complicated than the simple Unovan and math that the twins were on. The life with the two of them walking along the train tracks to reach the trainyard instead of walking through town, Ingo loudly discussing the various Pokemon that would come into sight and be scared away by their mother’s Granbull, Skrunchie, while Emmet quietly listened and began planning his Pokemon team at a younger age than most gym challengers even thought to start. The life where the twins would run errands for their father in Anville Town, and always stop to listen to the old woman on the bridge by the station play the lullaby for the trains.

With tears running down his cheeks, his smile falling into a frown for the first time since visiting his brother’s grave, Emmet brings the Azure Flute to his lips, and plays the lullaby once more, not just for Arceus, but for his brother across time. His fingers dance across the holes by instinct, his mind not even registering the movement as he listens to the song upon the wind. Emmet continues the song for several minutes, hoping to keep this connection with his past alive for a few more moments. 

Eventually, though, he lowers the Flute from his mouth, sobbing as the tears freeze upon his cheeks. There had been no answer. That was expected, Emmet wasn’t a Chosen One, nor was he a believer of Arceus. He was simply a Unovan tourist, playing with a sacred relic that wasn’t his to use. And despite having contingencies, despite planning for victory, Emmet felt like he had lost. That it was all for nothing.

Silence hung in the air for a few moments.

Thou art a welcome interruption.

With a burst of white light, a shape coalesced into the air in behind the altar, halting the falling snow around the group. As the form of a white Pokemon finished forming, with the body of a horse and a golden halo around its body, Volo and Cynthia both fell to their knees in reverence.

“アルセウス様、私の人生を祝福してください。(1),” Cynthia says quietly, lowering her head to continue her prayer silently.

“Nipsa-Kamuy Sinnoh, kamuy-nomi,” Volo mutters, his eyes wide open as he stares at the snow beneath him. “A-ram kamuy-nomi, kunne tursak mem kar. Nipsa-Kamuy Sinnoh, kamuy-nomi. A-ram kamuy-nomi, kunne tursak mem kar.(2)” Unlike Cynthia’s quiet prayer, Volo continues to mutter out loud, repeating the same words over and over.

Elio, however, slowly walks up to Emmet, and nudges him with their elbow. “Hey, Uncle? Is that Arceus?”

“I am Emmet,” Emmet starts, though he is interrupted.

Indeed, I am that which ye in this era call Arceus. Cynthia Kurosawa, Volo of the Celestica. Ye may rise.

Cynthia breaks herself from her prayers, and rises to her feet, though she keeps her head bowed in reverence. Volo does not move, though he pauses in his prayer before picking back up a moment later.

Elio Nozawa, such a young Champion. In other worlds, thou hast never crossed mine path. I have had many Champions across the worlds. Ash Ketchum, in his various quests. Dawn and Lucas, in their struggles to save this world. Hikari Mifune, the one who saved mine three children twice across time. However, even I can see Solgaleo chose a strong Champion with thou.

Elio puffs their chest out with a smile, then slaps their chest brazenly. “Sol and I chose each other! He’s the rising sun, and I’m his partner to ensure his light reaches those who need it!” Even without Solgaleo out of his Pokeball, Elio’s smile alone nearly lit up the area. Arceus gently nods its head, then looks straight at Emmet.

And thou. Ak-Emmet Grayn. A man of such great import that his brother clung to the memories of him through greatest loss. Of such great import that with only a name and a vague idea of thou, he prayed to me for thy safety. The one moment of faith in his life, and twas full of love and grief.

An echo of a voice sounds through the snow. To Cynthia and Elio, the voice means little to nothing. To Volo, the words are clear and the voice familiar to cause his own prayer to stop, finally looking up. To Emmet, it was everything he had hoped for for months after his disappearance. “Nispa-Kamuy Sinnoh, akor ak-Emmet kamuy-nomi, ak-Emmet wano arka atusare, wa uni kunne hom horari,(3)” said Ingo’s voice across the empty air.

Emmet’s face couldn’t help but raise itself into a smile, hearing that voice say something new for the first time in three long years. “I am Emmet. I need to know, Arceus.” He takes a deep breath, holding it for five seconds before letting it out slowly. “I need to know. Are my brother and my wife… Are Ingo and Elesa safe?”

The entire group feels the warmth of the sun upon them, as though they were out on a warm spring afternoon in Sunyshore instead of the cold peak of Mount Coronet.

Thy family art safe, ak-Emmet. Thy brother’s fall was out of mine control, but his safety was not. With his prayer, I was able to connect his life in Hisui to thy life there in Unova. And thus, thine attempts to find him would better bear fruit.

Emmet pales slightly. “So, without you stitching things together, I wouldn’t have information on my brother. I would be lost to grief. Possibly consumed by it.” Arceus remains silent as Emmet clenches his fists, then looks up at the deific Pokemon. “Will you take me to him, and Cynthia to Hikari? And our friends as well.”

You lot have a gallant guide amongst you.

With a burst of sunlight, Solgaleo springs from his Pokeball, shaking his mane playfully before roaring out in delight at Arceus’ recognition. With him now standing in the snowy ruins, the encroaching night was blasted back by sunlight, casting shadows behind each shattered pillar.

Greetings, young Solgaleo. I shall impart to thee thy imminent destination. Mine Champion, Hikari, awaits you all on this very peak. Be forewarned - Thine brother is injured. Keep courage in thy heart, however.

Emmet smiles and nods, patting Elio on the back as he joins them by Solgaleo. Volo, meanwhile, finally stands and approaches Arceus. “My Lord Arceus, I stand before you with regret deep in my heart for my past actions to reach your side.” He bows deeply at the waist, his bangs brushing the snow. “So I must know. Was I the cause of Ingo and Elesa’s disappearances? Did they fall into the distortions? I couldn’t find any other humans that had fallen, so were they the only two casualties to my arrogance?”

The air was filled with silence once more before Arceus answers.

Thou holds blame for much, Volo of the Celestica. But for Ingo, his fate was not of thine machinations. He had but fallen through a Ultra Wormhole, one which had split both the attention of myself and of the Forces of Nature in Unova. As for Elesa, she too was out of thine control. Mine own Champion pulled her in the hope of aiding Ingo’s locked memories. For these lives, thou art free of blame.

Volo’s breathing stops for a moment before he doubles over, his eyes screwed shut as he tries to hold in the tears. “Thank you, my Lord, for lifting that weight off of my shoulders.” As Volo turns around, Elio reaches up and pats his arm. While everyone’s attention is turned, Arceus disappears, and night returns to the mountain top.

“So, is everyone ready?” Elio asks, looking first at Volo, then Cynthia, then finally Emmet. With each of them nodding, Elio claps and ruffles Solgaleo’s fur. “Come on then, Sol! Let’s hit these Ultra Waves and head back to Hisui!” They scramble up onto the Legendary lion, and he roars out loud, crouching down and wiggling his butt in preparation.

As the roar reverberates through the air, a crack is heard, then seen as white light begins glowing from a thin line several feet in front of Solgaleo. With a pop, followed by another loud crack, the line expands into a white vortex, wide enough for Solgaleo to leap through and then some.

Emmet smiles, and points forward. “Everybody ready? Follow safety, and everybody smile!”

“ALL ABOARD!”