#sometimes there’s a gray area for teenage relationships but since we all know how well their relationship ends I think it’s safe to say

[yuttikkele]

HARLEEN you are a VICTIM. that is an EIGHTEEN YEAR OLD MAN who GRADUATED HIGH SCHOOL. YOU ARE FIFTEEN HARLEEN KICK HIM IN THE BALLS

[spicymayo1983]

Hiya. This is chapter 20, the finale to this series. After welcoming your miracle baby girl you have the family that you've always wanted.

Two gorgeous kids, a loving husband, what more could you ask for?

Will this be the happy ending you've always wanted or will fate deal you another cruel blow?

Warnings, angst, smut, squirting, female receiving oral sex, not for anyone under 18.

20+years earlier, Yavin 4

Even as teenagers you had always sensed that there was a deep bond between you and Poe.

It was a unique bond that transcended time. It felt almost mystical. Surreal in a truly beautiful way.

Your parents never tried to discourage your relationship because even they knew, and could see, the tender love that was shared between the two of you.

It was a love that truly only came around once in a lifetime.

Late one night you're tossing and turning in bed, unable to sleep, when you hear a gentle knock at your bedroom window.

You immediately turn on your bedside lamp, and see the smiling face of your boyfriend.

You jump out of bed and open the window. You grab his arm and pull him inside your room.

"What are you doing here you dork? It's almost 4 in the morning". You tease with a slight laugh as you help him up.

"I sensed that you couldn't sleep, so I brought you these". Poe replied softly with a slight smile as he presented you with a small bouquet of freshly picked wildflowers.

"Oh Poe, that's so sweet". You tell him with a smile as you plant a soft kiss on his lips. "You're truly something else".

"Let's sneak out and go to our favorite spot". Poe whispered into you ear as he kissed your neck. "I want to cuddle you and look at the stars".

You quickly get dressed and the two of you quietly sneak out of your bedroom window.

Once at the spot overlooking the ancient temple the two of you relax on the damp, cool grass.

It seemed like there were a million stars in the sky that night.

You playfully climb on top of Poe and start to kiss him. The two of you roll around a little, making out and playfully wrestling.

Poe finally pinned you down, with a giggle you say,

"Oh no, looks like you win, what do you want the prize to be?"

"You". Poe replied quickly, smiling wickedly and passionately kissing you on the lips.

You unbutton your shirt a little, revealing your bare breasts. The tightness in a particular area of his pants betrays the fact that Poe is more than ready for you.

Poe kissed all the way down to your bellybutton, you removed the belt to your pants and he unzipped them for you, revealing your soaked panties.

With a quick kick your pants are off and on the ground. His head immediately went between your legs and he started to lick your clit through your underwear, making you close your eyes and cuss.

Poe slid three fingers inside of your tight hole as he nibbled on and sucked your swollen clit.

Your underwear quickly came off next.

It must have been a combination of the cool, damp grass against your bare skin and the intense pleasure he was treating your body to but you could feel your legs start to tremble and shake.

Your tightness gripped onto his fingers, gave them a squeeze and then gushed warm fluid all over him.

"Wow". Poe said softly as he gently removed his fingers from inside your body, softly stroking your clit and inner lips with his thumb. "That was really hot".

As your legs continued to tremble Poe began to lick your inner lips, teasing and pulling on them gently with his soft lips.

As you relaxed on the cool grass, nude and looking up at the millions of stars, Poe took his clothes off and climbed on top of you.

Because you were so wet his thick cock slid easily inside of your warmth.

"Poe". You whimper softly, closing your eyes and savoring the pleasurable sensation of your bodies connected together.

"I love you forever". Poe whispered into your ear as he leaned down and gave your neck a playful nibble.

Afterwards, just as he had promised, Poe cuddled with you under the stars.

As he's holding you tight in his strong arms you kiss him and ask,

"How did you know that I couldn't sleep?"

"I don't know". Poe replied with a laugh as he kissed you back. "That's what is so weird about it".

Present day

Whenever you're not doing well your mind wanders off and you recount the delightful memories with Poe.

You were able to return home with your baby girl two days later.

You're sore, and exhausted and weak, unbelievably weak. You can barely muster enough energy to even roll over on your back.

Poe was worried about you, this wasn't normal and he could sense it.

It was almost like you were slowly fading away, keeping your eyes open was a difficult task, it was like your body was finally giving up.

Poe had been taking care of his newborn daughter and now nearly 5 year old son by himself and he was at the end of his rope.

Your friend Esmaria came over to help.

"Poe, how is she doing?" She immediately asked.

"Not very well". Poe explained, with tears in his eyes as he snuggled his infant daughter. "She can barely move or keep her eyes open".

"I'm sure she'll be okay". Esmaria told him as she gave Poe a hug.

"I think we need to get her back to the doctor". Poe explained as he continued to snuggle little Kya, giving her a little kiss on the forehead. "But she's being hard headed and won't go".

"Ugh, typical y/n". Esmaria told him with a deep sigh as she shook her head a little. "I think she's just depressed after having the baby".

Poe pulled up a chair next to your bedside and held your hand in his. The look on his face was a mixture of heartache and worry.

"Are you feeling any better?" Poe asked, leaning down and kissing you softly on the forehead.

"Not really". You reply weakly, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Is there anything I can do for you?" He asked again, tears streaming down his face. "Anything to make you more comfortable?"

"Poe, I think this is it". You tell him tearfully. "I think I'm dying".

"No, no, don't say that". He replied back quickly, shaking his head as he kissed your frail hand. "It can't be, it won't be, we can get you back to the doctor".

"I love you Poe". You tell him softly as you struggled to keep your eyes open. "I love our son and daughter too. Take care of them for me".

"Please don't leave us". Poe begged softly as he continued to hold your hand. "We were supposed to grow old together, remember?"

With a weak smile on your face you mouth I love you to your husband one last time as you close your eyes and drift away forever.

Ten years later

"What was mom like? Dad?"

"She looked a lot like you, I guess, with a different hair and eye color".

It was a full decade since you died. Poe was with your now 10 year old daughter in Yavin 4, who looked a lot like you only with her father's hair, skin and eye color.

Kya was 3 days old when you passed away. The older she got the more she would ask questions about her mother.

Poe told her what he could, but it was still extremely difficult to talk about you. He thought about you, his soulmate, constantly, and wondered what you would be like today.

Poe was in his mid 50's now, his once dark hair was mostly gray except for a few stray strands.

He had fully embraced the silver fox look and had aged gracefully. Poe was very distinguished looking.

He was still the leader of the black squadron.

Boe was a handsome, muscular 15 year old who was the direct image of his father. He was also into flying, adventure and getting into a little bit of trouble.

The girls loved him but he didn't have one steady girlfriend yet.

Kya was a beautiful, intelligent 10 year old whose interests included music and writing. She was a quiet introvert.

Esmaria, your best friend, had become Poe's second wife. She was an excellent stepmother and your children loved her.

Poe was visiting your grave with Kya. He was attempting to tell her all about you but it was still difficult for him.

He felt like half of his soul was gone. Poe loved Esmaria yes, but to him it was a different kind of love.

It lacked the passion, depth and intensity that the two of you had shared.

Kya went off by herself, leaving her father alone at your burial site.

"I miss you everyday". Poe confessed tearfully as he leaned down to clean off your headstone. "It still hurts like it was yesterday".

"Thank you for the beautiful kids, they're a pain in the ass sometimes but most of the time they're great". Poe continued, laughing a little. "Kya looks just like you, she's beautiful. Boe looks like me".

He left your family cemetery and headed to your favorite spot that overlooked the rainforest and temple.

Poe relaxed on the cool grass and with tears in his eyes imagined you next to him, cuddling him, kissing him.

When he opened his eyes you were right there, a figment of his imagination perhaps? But it looked so much like you.

Your image was solid, just like a real person. And your skin was soft and warm.

The memories came flooding back. The Summer days spent as teenagers, him consoling you after losing your parents, the day he found out that he was going to be a father.

You looked young, beautiful and healthy. Poe leaned over and kissed you tenderly, and with a huge smile on his face said,

"Y/n, things haven't been the same without you, I think about you every day".

"Poe, I didn't want to leave but I was sick and my body gave out". You explained, smiling a little. "I'm no longer in pain now".

"We were supposed to grow old together but I'm the only one that got old". Poe told you with a slight laugh.

"It isn't fair".

"I have to go now". You told him as you shared a final kiss. "But please tell Esmaria thank you for raising our children".

"I will". Poe told you with a weak smile as he stroked your soft cheek. "Goodbye".

With those final words you are gone again. The tears continued to stream down his face as he realized that you weren't coming back.

"Dad! There you are! We were looking all over for you".

The tranquil calm was interrupted by Boe and Kya, who had been looking for their father all afternoon.

Boe gave his father a huge bear hug, with a slight smile on his face Poe told them,

"I needed some alone time, I hope you kids didn't get into any trouble".

"Nah dad, I was just showing Ky around the temple". Boe replied quickly, smiling a little. "I think we're ready to go now".

Poe hugged his daughter tight, smiled and said,

"Your mother would be so proud of you two".

The end

[jtrokujo]

𝐈𝐂𝐄 𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆

paring: Semi Eita x fem!Reader

word count: 1.9k

warnings: none

gerne: fluff, romance

summary: In the happy relationship, which did not have a good start, the couple gets ready for a date, but how it ends was different than expected.

—

In the back row I saw my friend's playmates, because today the Shiratorizawa were playing against the Karasuno.

I have to admit that even though I know the people on the Karasuno team, I still have no impression of the players.

But they seem to be nice people and the orange haired one doesn't seem to be a problem for almost any volleyball player until they meet him.

The team has an advantage for being able to jump pretty fast and high, but my gut feeling still tells me that the Shiratorizawa will win tonight.

When Semi scored a point, the students in our school stood tall and cheered loudly.

Just like her I cheered loudly and clapped for the team, to be honest I had to laugh a bit like lost Semi looked up just to see me, the reason I'm sitting in the back is very simple: I forgot.

I had an appointment with a friend, but when she reminded me we left quickly.

I can be a great friend sometimes.

However, I have to remember how much I hated Semi, no, seriously, the way he was.

He gave me the cold shoulder, treated me like dirt and when we were supposed to do partner work together, I wanted to jump out of the window.

Marked me as a bitch and didn't even do half of our delivered work on the grounds: "If you can talk so much, you can certainly do so much work too."

But it was only through this group work that we got close.

You could tell that no matter how callous he seemed towards you, he really cares about his friends and comrades.

My feelings towards him only came after our group work was finished, but shortly before that he seemed different to me too, almost nice.

He kept me and my friends company, which was a bit strange, but you get used to it quickly.

After that time we went to school together, I accompanied him to the sports hall and sometimes even was there because we often had an appointment after his training.

I always didn't care how I looked before, because he seems to accept me as a person as I am, it's nice to know that there is still someone in this world who is interested in you as a person.

I still remember our first date when we had a little bike ride through the city, the bruises and the sore muscles hurt, but everything has its price.

And besides, I wasn't the only one who fell off my bike about 5 times.

Back in the present, I saw that the last sentence was almost over, whoever got the last point won.

Restricting my fingers and looking at the players on the field, I saw that the number 3 still managed to prevent the ball from landing on the field.

That was close, but the ball was so high that Hinata herself didn't know where it would land.

It is not slow, but it is not fast enough to be able to endure it either. It landed on their field, causing all of my classmates to jump and scream.

I got up and cheered my friend's team.

The gray / white-haired man looked helplessly through the crowd just to be able to see his girlfriend, but he didn't know that she was making her way to the entrance so that they could leave the sports hall together.

Several minutes have passed and (Y / N) 's cell phone rang, immediately she saw his name on it and accepted it "Where are you?" she heard his voice right away, she replied that she was in front of the entrance and asked him where he was.

The friend in turn said that he would be there in a few minutes.

Said and done in less than 3 minutes, she saw her boyfriend, Semi.

Slowly she walks up to him and hugged him and said to his ear "Congratulations on your victory."

He looked at her lovingly and hugged her again, this time a little tighter.

In the middle of nowhere, someone kept us and our embrace company.

Semi and I quickly broke out of our embrace and saw his red-haired friend, Tendo.

"Come on, all things are 3." he sighed in disappointment, which made him lightly hit his red head by Semi.

Painfully he rubbed himself on the injured area and greeted me "Hey (Y / N) ... your neck has gotten longer."

Faster than lightning, Semi hit him a little harder.

Tendo held his head protectively and kept repeating "It's okay, I'll stop!"

After the two volleyball players had calmed down, Tendo asked us if we wanted to do something together, I nodded and answered his question.

At the same time, Semi stares at his cell phone and said that we have to go, we quickly said goodbye to Tendo and made our way to where we want to spend our date.

There was silence between us on the way, but that's nothing to complain about, no, on the contrary.

Apart from the different dates, we often spend a quiet togetherness.

I know where this silence came from, or how this silence became part of our relationship, but I know one thing, no matter where I may be, as long as Semi is by my side, there is nothing Semi nor I can complain about.

But as much as I want to have a conversation with him, I have to think about the fact where we want to spend our date.

It was Semi's suggestion and I agreed without hesitation.

Of course, I don't mind if Semi decides where we want to spend our date, but I also care where we spend it.

Ice scating.

That I don't like it comes out of the question, but I have to admit that I've never done it, we recently went to a water park even though Semi wasn't a big fan of it, but he said "As long as you're by my side , everything is perfect. ", so it would be a little shit of me to say that I don't want it.

I know he would have offered me to stay the night or something else, but he said he had a surprise for me.

"(Y / N), is something wrong?"

My friend looked at me in amazement and squeezed my hand a little tighter.

"No, it's okay. I was just thinking." I tried to calm him down.

Still, Semi was a bit persistent and asked again what was going on.

"It's just, I've never skated before, so I'm afraid that I might get injured or even hurt."

Out of nowhere my friend giggled, causing me to stare in amazement. "Since when have you been so soft?" his arm was on my shoulders and pulled me closer to him. "What does that mean?" I asked him in amazement.

"Do you remember our first meeting, that's all I want to say." answer Semi and took my hand.

TIME SKIP

"Well finally." I sigh, relieved, but the fact where we are leaves me with a strange tingling sensation in my stomach.

But as long as I have Semi by my side, I shouldn't be worried.

"Let's go?" Semi asked me, I answered bluntly with a nod and hold his hand a little tighter than before.

When I finished tying the laces together I wondered why I was so scared.

"(Y / N), do we want?" asked Semi and looked me in the eye, his eyes shone something, what exactly I didn't know.

"Yes." I answered and tried to get up "Shall I not help you?" he asked immediately.

"No, no, it's okay, come on."

We saw a lot of people, some of them were parents with their children, some teenagers and some couples in love.

Caution, Semi and I kept them company. "Are you sure not to help them?" "I'm not a toddler, semi and besides, maybe there is some talent in me." I said confidently and immediately took his hand.

Hand in hand we made several rounds together, but I would have fallen down several times if he hadn't had such a reflex.

I admired a couple who fascinated me, it looked like they would have been able to do it several years ago, but he doesn't know the saying "Practice makes perfect".

The boyfriend noticed that his girlfriend was paying him no attention when he was talking to her.

He looked in the direction and saw a couple, but since he didn't want to come across diagonally, he gently pulled his friend's hand and continued what they stopped before.

Less than a minute later, his girlfriend said with enthusiasm, "Shall we try it together ?!"

He looked at his girlfriend diagonally and answered her question with "I don't want to end up in the hospital."

She hit him lightly on his stomach and this time said a bit irritably "Don't think so badly. I can certainly do it and now we're going to show the others what the volleyball player from Shiratorizawa and his girlfriend can do."

As much as the volleyball player would like to deny it, he has to admit that he is afraid.

But not only for himself, but also for his girlfriend.

Sighing, he gave up and asked his girlfriend what she would like to try with him.

"I run, so to speak, towards you and then you catch me and turn me up in the air."

"(Y / N) what that 'Dirty Dancing'? Semi asked a little disgusted and raised an eyebrow.

"Well, if you put it that way ... yes of course. You only live once and no contradiction!"

In the positions (Y / N) started to 'run' towards her boyfriend, Semi was able to catch her in time, but unfortunately he lost his balance too quickly, which is why he and his girlfriend landed rudely on the ground.

The small crowd immediately helped the couple, but (Y / N) quickly lost consciousness.

TIME SKIP

In the white room the friend emptied his water-filled glass while the cold raindrops hit the large pane.

When he was about to try to get up, his left slightly broken foot stopped him and sat down again in vain.

Lost in thought, he was staring at us nothing.

"Semi?" his girlfriend asked tiredly.

"(Y / N)!" relieved that his girlfriend is awake again, he hugged her the next second.

She asks immediately where she is, Semi answered all the questions one by one and said that they can go back home after a little examination.

After the little examination, the couple was allowed to go back home, the parents and their girlfriends are standing in front of the hospital with their respective cars and immediately rushed up to the couple and hugged them.

When he arrived at his girlfriend's home, they lay down on the bed and fell asleep in just a few minutes.

The next day the sun shone out of the window, which woke the couple, Semi moans annoyed and covered his face with the blanket of his girlfriend.

However, she quickly landed on the ground.

Slowly he opened his eyes and saw his girlfriend "Get up it's 11 o'clock."

Together in the kitchen he sees the finished breakfast on the table. "You ... you did that?"

Annoyed, she looked at him and muttered "Yes, I did that and now eat."

"Yes ok thanks."

As they finished the meal (Y / N) started talking out of nowhere.

"I'm sorry."

"What for?" he said, looking down at his girlfriend.

"You know about your ankle.

Now you won't be able to play volleyball for a while. "

Semi took his girlfriend's hand on his and said, "As long as you're okay, I don't care about anything in the world. Please know that, (Y / N)."

[petri808]

The Truth is not far from Fiction

@nalu-week bonus day AU prompt. Ghost story, modern setting, 7k words

Based on a real life experience.

One day late in the afternoon, Layla Heartfilia hears talking and pops her head into her toddlers bedroom. She sees the four-year-old playing with a doll in the middle of the floor, just babbling away and smiles. “Who are you talking to Lucy?”

The child’s brown eyes beam at her mother. “Mishi wanna pway wich doll.”

Assuming it was just an imaginary friend, the woman plays along. “I see. And are you being a good girl and sharing your toys?”

“Uh-huh, mommy.”

“That’s a good girl. I’ll be back shortly to get you for dinner, okay, you just keep playing nicely with your friend.”

“Otay,” Lucy giggles and looks at the girl sitting across from her, “Mishi you hungy too? Oh.” She then looks back at her mother, “Mishi say no can eat.”

“Why is that dear?”

“Mishis dead.”

><><><><><><><><><

From all outward appearances, Lucy Heartfilia was just your typical teenage girl. She had her tight-knit group of friends, a girly-girl when she wanted to be, but deep down was just as comfortable hanging with the guys. Fangirling over the latest manga heartthrob or relaxing with a good book were her two favorite things to do, well that and spending time with her best friend slash boyfriend Natsu Dragneel.

Natsu was born and raised in Hawaii whereas Lucy was a transplant to the islands. After her mother’s death, her father moved them to Hilo when the opportunity to invest in some new property developments came about. It was a small town compared to the big city they’d left behind, but it was a beautiful place and Lucy fell in love with it quickly. She knew her mother would have loved it because if there was one thing Layla Heartfilia had instilled in her daughter, it was a love of the stars.

Every cloudless night on the island provided a perfect opportunity for stargazing thanks to the role of the observatories on Mauna Kea; the islands largest volcanic mountain. Nothing brighter than an orange amber glow was allowed by law, cutting down on the amount of light pollution in Hawaii. Lucy loved it and took any opportunity to simply kick back under the stars picking out her favorite constellations.    

It was now the summer of their graduation from high school and the friends wanted to do something together to kick it off. A few options were thrown around, but when the idea of relaxing under the stars came to mind, Lucy suggested a camping trip. Campfires and smores, maybe some hiking, or even better, snuggling after dark. The group was sold.

“Gajeel’s dad said his contact will let us stay at K.O.E.C in volcano for the weekend since it’s not being used during the summer.” Levy McGarden was the first friend Lucy made after moving to the island and Gajeel Redfox was the girl’s boyfriend.

Lucy tips her head in confusion. “Where’s that? I don’t think I’ve heard of it before.”

“Oh,” Levy chuckles, “sometimes I forget you weren’t born here. In elementary school, all the kids are taken camping there. It’s like an educational retreat cause it’s right next to the national park.”

“Ah, gotcha. So, it’s a camping ground?”

“Mmm, sort of. There’s a building and a big grass area and a bonfire pit.  I don’t know the details if they’ll let us use the main building, but it’ll probably be fine if we just set up tents. Gajeel said the guy will give us a key to the gate when we arrive so we can go in and out.”

“Sounds perfect to me.”

Despite her father’s wishes for Lucy to go to a bigger college in the states, she decides to stay local for now, though that still meant relocating to a different island. It was true her decision was partially based on where her boyfriend was also attending school, but Chaminade University had a good reputation as well as the programs she was interested in. Natsu had graduated the year prior and received a football scholarship to attend the University of Manoa.  He’d be home for the summer in just a couple of days and she was excited to spend as much time with him as possible.

Starting fresh in a new place during middle school after leaving all of her friends behind in California can be tough on any young person, so it was really thanks to Levy and Natsu for making her feel so welcomed in Hawaii. On the first day of class Levy had befriended her and introduced Lucy into the group of kids that would stick together all the way from Waiakea Intermediate through Waiakea High. They’re like a second family for the girl who didn’t have any siblings and a father who was too busy to pay much attention.

But that was part of the beauty behind her and Natsu’s relationship. It wasn’t something that happened overnight, rather blossoming over several years from a friendship until one day their friend Gray Fullbuster pointed out they were already a pseudo couple so they might as well just make it official. Whenever Lucy thinks about that moment, it always makes her smile, because Natsu had simply chuckled, asked if she wanted to be his girl, she said yes, and they went on with the conversation as if nothing had changed.

Bright and early on a Friday morning, the group meets up at the local McDonald’s parking lot before the caravan heads out as a group to the Volcano area. Lucy rides with Natsu in his pickup truck, while everyone else were in other vehicles. There were eight of them total on their way for a fun filled weekend out in the countryside. It was the first time Lucy would be spending an extended amount of time in the area. Prior to this trip she’s only visited the park to do the typical tourist things like seeing the Jagger Museum or hiking the sulfur banks.

As they make their way to the area, no matter if the vehicle slows or accelerates, the road ahead blends as Lucy stares out the window. Greens, browns, mixed with multiple colors when they pass buildings. Her mind drifts with it, strangely lulled by an energy she cannot place, nor is even aware of its pull on her. The radio playing becomes a background noise with only the bass beats standing out… the drums especially calling to her and lulling her into a spell.  

“You okay, Luce?” Natsu questions her as she stares out the passenger window. The normally chatting girl was surprisingly quiet through the drive.

Lucy breaks out of her trance and looks over at her boyfriend. “Yeah, sorry I was just spacing out.” She smiles to allay his concerns. “I was so excited for this trip that I didn’t get much sleep.”

He reaches over and squeezes her hand with a smile. “How about I set up the tent first thing so you can take a nap?”

“I think I’ll be okay once we start doing stuff.”

“Whatever you say,” he winks.

She really wanted to enjoy this trip but the closer they got to the area the more a churning knot tightened in her stomach. It was a dubious feeling to place, not sick as if she were coming down with a cold, and she didn’t get motion sickness like her boyfriend, it was more like a foreboding feeling. Though a strange time to kick in, she had been a little stressed out about going off to college in the fall, so perhaps it was just a case of nerves.

That must be it, Lucy chalks up the weird feelings and rationalizes them as nothing more than a case of the jitters. Going away from home to a new place was a scary proposition, but she reminds herself she won’t be totally alone. Natsu will be on the island and so will Cana Alberona another close friend. And hey, thanks to the internet, those like Levy will be a simple click away too. She takes a deep breath and releases the churning emotions. It was time to focus on this camping trip and make it memorable.

When the caravan of vehicles pulls into the parking area, everyone waits with their vehicles while Gajeel settles up with the caretaker. Once that was complete, the group starts the task of setting up their gear. They break up the work, with the men focusing on the bigger jobs, erecting the tents, tables, and carrying the heavier items. The girls follow up with the sleeping bags, getting the food and other supplies squared away.

It was a nice place, just like Levy had described to Lucy. To the left of the parking lot was a large main building that housed expansive rooms used as classrooms. Downstairs were restrooms and showers, along with maintenance rooms. The caretaker had turned on the hot water and electricity for them to use on the bottom level, but the upstairs rooms were locked for security purposes. There was also security lighting around the building and on the street, but from what Lucy could gauge, once the sun goes down, the area would be quite dark. Good thing they brought a bunch of lanterns and flashlights.

In front of the building and parking lot, it opened up into a sprawling grassy area surrounded by trees. Beyond the trees were homes and subdivisions. At the very edge of the lawn, Lucy could see the bonfire area her friend had mentioned tucked in a corner. According to the caretaker, it was no longer used for full bonfires due to the threat of starting a forest fire, but they were allowed to make a small, normal sized campfire for doing things like roasting marshmallows or for warmth. The pit was also ringed with fallen Ohia tree logs to sit on.

The place was serene alright… but why was that nagging feeling eating away at her? As she stared towards the bon fire area, every fiber of her being was screaming at her to stay away from it. She didn’t like the vibes this place was giving off, which made absolutely no sense to her. It looked completely safe and quiet, they brought children here to camp for Pete’s sakes! Surely, the county wouldn’t allow visitors if this place wasn’t safe.

A shiver rushes along Lucy’s frame despite the lack of a breeze. Maybe she was just psyching herself out, so she turns away from the pit and focuses on something that did make her feel safe. Natsu had just finished setting up their tent. It was time for her to get their bedding down so they could settle in. Perfect, she could do that.

“So, how do you like it?” Natsu asks her as soon as she walks over to him. “Nice, right?”

“It’s a really scenic place,” Lucy agrees. She didn’t want to concern or spook him with her true thoughts of the place. “Is the tent ready?”

“Yup,” he grins, “pretty sure it won’t cave in.”

She chuckles, “I’ll get our sleeping bags and stuff set up.”

Natsu pulls her close and wraps his arms around her waist. “Just make sure I’ve got easy access to ya,” he wiggles his eyebrows. “After six months apart, I need to make up for lost time.”

That brings a flush to her cheeks and a giggle from the woman. “I think I can figure something out.”

He places a soft, lingering kiss on Lucy’s lips. “Remind me again how I managed to make you my girl?”

Lucy grins coyly, “by being an adorable dork.”

“Dork? Says the weirdo,” he chuckles and kisses her again. “Okay, you get cracking on this and I’ll be back in a bit after we set up the campfire for tonight.”

She just nods and watches him walk away for a moment, before turning her attention to the tent. Natsu had even added an additional tarp over the top in case it rained, how thoughtful and smart considering the weather here could turn without warning. Everyone had set up their tents, five in total, at distances from each other. Lucy chuckles in her head, knowing they weren’t the only ones with a little hanky-panky on the agenda.

Instead of using the sleeping bags as they were designed for, she unzips the two sets completely open, using one as the bottom and one as the blanket, finishing off their makeshift bed with the pillows. She then takes the bags that holds their clothing and toiletries and places it in the corner of the tent. Lastly, she double checks that their lantern was working properly and stores it near the entrance, so it was easy to turn on when needed.

With their accommodations ready, she could relax a little while she waited for Natsu to return. Since she didn’t know how long it would take the men to finish, Lucy decides to lay down and close her eyes. He’d suggested she take a short nap, and well, it seemed like a good idea now.

The moment she closes her eyes, the sunlight fades away behind her eyelids as her body slowly gives in. ‘This sleeping bag… is really comfortable…’ She felt peaceful, a sense of stilling calm like in the eye of a hurricane. The blue skies brought warmth streaming through the thin nylon fabric of the tent, pacifying the nervous pin pricks licking along her frame. Is that music playing somewhere? Lucy wonders as the edge of oblivion comes calling... Does someone have their bass cranked up?  

‘Did I sleep the afternoon away?’ Lucy looks around as the hairs on the back of her neck stand on edge and the sickening feeling pitted in her stomach tightens. Something’s wrong, her mind screams. Where was the tent?! Why was she in the forest?! Where did everyone go? She was taking a nap and suddenly she was in the middle of the dark Ohia forest.

It was deathly silent save for the drumbeats and chanting getting louder— so loud that she felt it in her bones. No other signs of life, of crickets or coqui frogs, nor distant sounds of the homes she knew were laid out around the campsite. Only the drowning of drumbeats and the word kapu (sacred) repeated over and over. She covers her ears in a useless attempt to shield them from the noise, but it was as if they were coming from inside her head.

‘Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!’ Her voice cracked and trembling, desperate to get away from the torment. Fight or flight takes hold and she starts to back away, but her legs feel like rubber, her feet like dead weight. She looks down as a silent scream bubbles up in her throat. Why is her feet sinking into the mud! The ground had been solid a second ago!

She opens her mouth to cry out for Natsu, anybody, but no sound leaves her. Panic sets in, sending her mind into a tailspin, and energy surges through her body. She claws at her throat in desperation, why wasn’t her voice coming out! Her mind is begging for someone to please hear her screams. Natsu! Where was Natsu?!

Something grabs her from behind and her arms begin flailing out desperate to fight back.

“Lucy, wake up!”

“Natsu!” The blonde screams, kicking and punching as she sits straight up on the bedding. Still in a panicked fight for her life, she scrambles away until her back hits the wall of the tent. Her brain is struggling to take back control from the dreamworld, but the sounds were all she could hear roaring in her eardrums.

The hold around her center felt as if something very strong and powerful was squeezing the life out of her. All she could hear in her head were her own screams and that incessant drumbeat! Make it stop! Make it stop! The tears are pouring down, clouding her vision and marring the scene in front of her. Get me out of here!

“Lucy, Lucy!” Natsu grabs hold of her wrists to keep her from hitting him. “It’s a dream, Lucy, you’re okay now.” His own panic was rising faster than a flood. Why wasn’t she responding to him? Her eyes are open, but she was staring past him as if he didn’t exist just screaming for help.

“Lucy?” He feels what he can only equate to as sticking your hand in an electrical socket. His hands start to tingle and the air around them heats up. “W-What the hell is going on?!” Natsu squeaks out as a true fear takes hold. He could understand daymares, but this… this was abnormal!  

She thrashes against his hold for a few more seconds, shaking her head as tears pour in torrents down her cheeks. But despite the eerie shocks Lucy was giving him, he holds on tight until the opportunity presents itself to pull her into a fierce bear hug. Natsu had no idea what had set this off, so he fights off his own panic and does what he can, cooing and speaking softly to calm her. He couldn’t tell if his voice even had any weight behind it, but it was all he could muster.

“Shhh, babe I got ya now. Whatever it was, you’re safe.”

Natsu cradles her head, keeping it locked against his chest. There are footsteps around the tent along with a few ‘are you guys okay’ being asked. He responds that it was just a bad dream and not to worry. Lucy must have been much more tired than they’d realized for her to fall asleep so deeply and enter the dream stage in less than 30 minutes. He and Gray had only completed a third of the firepit when Levy had come to get him. The woman had heard distressing sounds coming from his girlfriend and they’d been enough to concern her.

Though Lucys mind was coming out of the dream world, and reality was taking hold again, a heavier panic sets in. How was she supposed to explain this to him? There was something about her life that she’d kept secret from everyone for fear of being looked at as a freak, and most of the time it wasn’t a problem to keep it hidden. Lucy fights to gain back control and to stop shaking. ‘It was just a dream Lucy,’ she tries to psyche up the lie in her head. ‘Nothing paranormal about a dream. It’s the stress manifesting itself.’ She didn’t want to worry anyone.

She takes several long, slow, deep breaths until the panic attack starts to wane. “Thank you, Natsu I-I’m fine now. I’m so sorry. I think all the anxiety of college is just getting to me.”

“No need to apologize Lucy, leaving home is scary. But you know I’ll be there for you right?”

“Yeah,” she cracks a smile. “I know you will be.”

“That was a pretty crazy dream though. Do you remember what it was about?”

Kapu… “No,” she shakes her head as if accentuating the word, but in reality, wishing the sounds echoing in her head would disappear.

“Okay.” His gut tells him not to push the topic until she was ready. Natsu kisses her forehead, “well if you do and you wanna talk about it, I’m all ears.” He smiles at her, “hey, why don’t you go wash your face, catch your breath, and maybe hang out with the girls to distract yourself while I finish up what I was doing?”

Lucy nods, “That’s a good idea.”

Of course, the moment she sat down with her concerned friends they bombarded her with questions about the daymare. Cana the ever-budding ‘spiritualist’ of the group pressing for information so she could discern the meanings behind what Lucy had seen. But she feigned not remembering anything once she’d been awoken by Natsu. She didn’t want to remember, rather forget it had ever happened. So, she falls back to the same excuse she’d used for him. Why not? At least if it were a consistent lie it would be easier to keep up.

“Are you sure Lu?” Levy reaches over and places a hand on her friends knee, “cause the way you were screaming… I swear even I was getting chills.”

“You literally sounded like you were being murdered.”

“Blunt enough, Cana?” Levy rolls her eyes. “She doesn’t need to be freaked out any more than necessary.”

“I really appreciate you’re guys concern, but I swear I’m fine now. I don’t remember what it was about and if it’s as bad as you’re saying, I’m glad I don’t remember.”

Levy fixes Lucy with a stare. “At least promise me if it happens again, you’ll talk to me.”

“I promise.” Lucy smiles back hoping to allay her friends concerns. “I think my nerves are just fried over college.”

To Lucy’s relief the rest of the group quickly switched into that topic. Juvia Lockser, Gray’s girlfriend was already a Sophomore in college, but she and the others shared their feelings of anxiety. It turns out they all felt similar to her, maybe even more so. Levy and Cana were born and raised in Hilo and had never travelled outside of the state before. Juvia is a transplant like Lucy except she came here for college from Seattle, Washington. It was only after meeting Gray at the University last year that she was folded into their group.      

“Lemme see if I can explain it,” Levy taps her chin. “A lot of islanders feel like they’re stuck here— okay maybe not stuck, but like… they don’t wanna leave their comfort zone. So, going away for college is really nerve wracking, that’s why I’m really anxious about it and excited at the same time.”

“Speak for yourself,” Cana chimes in, “I’m nervous sure, but I can’t wait to go to Honolulu! First thing I plan to do is hit the clubs! And I plan to drag you with me Lu.”

“Oh, no, no, no,” Lucy waves her hands excitedly while laughing, “don’t drag me into that!”

“Aww, come on, think about it! I’ll get you all hot and bothered and unleash you on Natsu.” Cana winks, “I’m sure he won’t mind.”

“OMG!” Lucy throws a handful of ripped grass at her friend as the other girls burst into laughter.

It’s not long in chatting with the girls that Lucy’s fears subside and the daymare is semi-forgotten. They talk about the rest of their plans for the weekend, like how tomorrow will be spent in the park checking out the latest volcanic activity and hiking the trails. Someone needs to stay behind to watch the camp, so Cana and Loke de Lioncourt agree to do it. Their reasoning is let the couples have fun exploring, but everyone else knows that the pair wanted some “fun time” to themselves.

Things were still quiet for Lucy by the time the men finish prepping the fire pit. The girls had made a simple lunch of sandwiches for the gang, so the guys join the conversation and things continue to flow smoothly into a relaxing afternoon. With Natsu by her side, Lucy feels an additional calming energy and that helps to settle the remnants of creepy sensations she was still having. She didn’t know how of why he was having that effect on her but welcomed it regardless.  

No matter where you go, there are spirits and because of her abilities, Lucy did what she could to acclimate to her surroundings. After moving to the islands, she familiarized herself with local legends and lore, about the gods and aumakua’s (spirit guardians), and so much more. There were tons of spirits here. But that didn’t mean she knew everything or when or where she may encounter them, and she certainly was no expert in how to deal with it. There’s no training manual for this stuff. The lucky ones find someone to mentor them, but beyond picking up tidbits where she could, Lucy worked by intuition most of the time.

After the incident in the tent, Natsu’s instincts were heightened. He couldn’t get a good read on what Lucy was thinking or feeling, but he could tell something was bothering her despite her downplays. But unless she was willing to tell him, he could only guess why her energy was spiking in an unusual manner and as darkness approached it was only increasing.

He watches her closely and starts to notice more troubling signs. Clearly, she was trying to hide them, but her mood was starting to change from engaged to removed. Where she was chatting normally at lunch, Lucy had slowed to only answering when spoken to. It was as if her mind was elsewhere and her energy level was waning. It reminded him of her behavior in the truck on their way to the site. Was it returning again?

“Here you go,” Natsu hands Lucy a plate of dinner. The group had barbecued some meat and thanks to the buildings electricity were able to make rice for a starch.

“Thanks,” she smiles, though the look behind it gave off a disinterested vibe.

Lucy had been holding her arm around her stomach as if it were bothering her. He’d just hoped she would say something if that were the case, but she never had. He sits down beside her, eating, and continuing his vigil. Was Lucy getting paler, or was it just the waning light? Even her eyes seemed dimmer.

“Are you feeling ill, you don’t look well.” Natsu finally whispers hoping not to gain attention from the group.

“Huh? Why?”

“You just look a little peaked is all.”

“I don’t know,” Lucy picks at the contents of her plate, “maybe I’m still tired… I kinda feel zapped all of a sudden.” She was feeling ill, as if an unexpected flu was kicking in, but she didn’t want to admit it. Her stomach was queasy, and her head was starting to get dizzy.  

“If you’re not feeling well, I don’t mind taking you home.”

“No, no,” she shakes her head determined to push through this bout. “I don’t wanna ruin your weekend.” But shaking her head was a bad idea and now she really felt dizzy. Why was this happening now? She’d been perfectly fine when they were in Hilo.

“Luce, helping my girl out isn’t gonna ruin my weekend.”

“Are you sure? Because…” her voice trails out and eyes roll back seconds before Lucy collapses forward. She never had a chance to finish.

The next 30 seconds is like a slow-motion scenes in a movie. Her name is screamed, and gasps ring out. Natsu reacts on instinct, dropping his plate and shooting his hand out to grab her before she face plants onto the ground. Everyone around them is on their feet in a flash, rushing over for support. When he lands partially under Lucy, Gajeel and Gray help him to get back into a sitting position with the unconscious woman still cradled in his lap.  

Natsu could feel a dark energy gathering around her that hadn’t been there before, triggering electrical sensations along his skin, similar to what he’d felt in the tent. This was not good… not good at all! Whatever had affected Lucy earlier in the day was intensifying. “I better get her to the hospital, somethings not right!” He scoops the unconscious woman up and gets to his feet.

Gray reaches out to support some of Lucy’s weight as Natsu stands up. “Yeah, man, do what you gotta do.”

“And don’t worry about your stuff, we’ll take care of it,” Gajeel chimes in. “You just worry about you’re woman.”

Levy places a hand on Natsu’s arm, her eyes clouded and barely holding back the pain of her concern. This was her best friend. With such an eventful afternoon, every worst-case scenario was running through her mind. Was Lucy sick? What kind of illness could strike a healthy young woman down so quickly? “Please call us as soon as you find out what’s wrong, okay, promise me.”

“Will do, Lev, I promise. Thanks guys.”

As Natsu secures Lucy into his truck, the girls grab the couple’s personal belongings like Lucy’s purse and a duffle bag of clothing for him. The camping gear, tent and such will be safe in the care of their friends. He was doing all he could to stay calm because the last thing he needed was to lose control and wreck his truck or something. When he climbs in and starts up the vehicle, he notices Lucy starting to stir a little. She was strapped in so she wouldn’t fall over, and her body stayed slumped, but her head was working to hold itself up. “Lucy? Can you hear me?”

“Yeah…” she mumbles with her eyes closed.

“I’m taking you to the hospital.”

“What… happened?”

“You collapsed.”

Once he makes it out of the country roads and clears the forest, the truck roars it down the highway. Natsu wanted to get Lucy to the hospital as quickly as possible since it was about 40-50 miles away. Lucy was healthy, so he was concerned with the speed this illness had hit her, fast and hard.

He keeps his eyes on the road but checks on the woman in his passenger seat every few seconds. When they’d put her in the truck, she was barely ambulatory and coherent. Lucy still had her eyes closed as she rested her head in the crook of the door frame and seat. She was breathing normally as far as he could tell and at least her arm had relaxed away from clenching around her abdomen.

If he didn’t know better, it was as if Lucy had fallen asleep again. But the longer he watched, the more he could tell the situation was changing. After 10 minutes of driving and reaching the Fern forest area, she had shifted in the seat, stretching out her legs and sitting upright.

“How ya feeling Lucy?”

“A little better,” she responds. It was strange, but the heavy pressure she had felt back at the camp was slowly lifting the further they got away from it. Her body still felt tired as if all the energy had been sucked from it, but at least the foreboding vibes were melting away and she could breathe easier again. It was a complete reversal of how she felt going to the area.

“That’s good to hear.” It wasn’t just her words that brought him some relief. Natsu could sense the shift. The aura around her was no longer as dark as it had been at the camp.

Another 10 minutes or so passes by and they’d reached the town of Mountain View. Here Natsu was forced to slow down due to a slower speed limit and higher traffic flow. They come to a red traffic signal, so he takes the opportunity to make a better assessment of his girlfriend. Not only was Lucy’s eyes open, but they looked bright and her skin wasn’t as pale anymore. She was sitting fully upright just looking around as if taking in the view. Certainly not the look of someone being rushed to the hospital.

“Could we stop and grab food,” Lucy asks out of the blue when they’re about to hit Keaau town. He turns and looks to see her smiling at him. “I’m really hungry all of a sudden.”

“Um, yeah sure,” his eyebrow raises in confusion, “we could stop at McDonalds.”

“Great!”

“You know,” he pauses, “you seem a lot better Lucy, like completely normal and that’s kind of freaking me out.”

Lucy averts her eyes and her lips curve down in a small frown. “I’m really sorry for worrying you Natsu.”

“Is there something you’re not telling me?”

“I don’t really like to talk about it…”

“Well I think I deserve to know considering you just scared the hell out of me Luce.”

She sighs, “You’re right— I-I don’t know exactly what happened back there, but there is something I haven’t told you or anyone else.”

Natsu can see the moisture building in her eyes, she was clearly torn and upset over whatever it was. He wasn’t angry that she’d withheld something from him, maybe a little annoyed, but he assumed she had a good reason for it. Lucy was never one to lie to him, so this must be a big deal to her. “You know I’d never judge you, right? You can tell me anything.”

“I know you wouldn’t,” she sighs again. “You don’t need to take me to the hospital, there’s nothing medically wrong with me.”

“Are you sure?”

Lucy nods. “Can we grab food and go back to your house? Then I’ll come clean… a-about everything.”

He picks up her hand and kisses it, nodding before turning off into the shopping complex’s parking lot. They order food through the drive through, then set off for his parent’s house in Hilo. It takes them about 20 more minutes to arrive and after giving a half-hearted explanation of cutting their trip short to his parents, the pair settle upstairs in Natsu’s bedroom.

Starving had been an understatement as Natsu watched Lucy inhale her burger. Normally he would finish meals first and would have to wait for her to catch up. It was eye opening, and probably the first time in all the years they’ve known each other he’s witnessed it. Of course, the whole day has been filled with new experiences with her, and this was the least concerning of it all.

With her food gone, Lucy pushes herself up and sits back against his headboard contemplating exactly how she should explain things to Natsu. She didn’t know why she was so worried about telling him, since he’s never been judgmental before. In fact, he often teased that he found her quirks endearing. But this wasn’t exactly normal. For his part, Natsu just sat on the bed in front of her in a cross-legged position, patiently waiting.

With her fingers fidgeting in her lap and her eyes boring holes into his comforter, Lucy starts out with a question of her own. “Do you believe in ghosts?”

“Never seen one before, but I believe it’s not impossible for them to exist.” He shifts in his position to let his legs stretch out and props himself with his arms behind his back. “I mean growing up here and being bombarded by the culture kind of gave me an open mind to it.”

“W-What if I told you that I’ve been able to see them since I was a kid? Would you think I’m weird?”

“You mean weirder than I already think you are? No,” he chuckles, “I wouldn’t.”

“I’m serious!” she pouts.

“So am I,” Natsu laughs harder. “Hey, I’m sorry,” he leans forward and pats her foot, his expression softening. “I’m just trying to show you that it doesn’t bother me. I’m not making fun of you, I promise. Is that what is was back there, a ghost?”

Lucy shakes her head. “I don’t think it was a regular ghost, and I still don’t fully understand what happened.”

“How about starting from the beginning. You were distracted before we even got to the place.”

“It was strange… like, as we drove into the area, I was getting a creepy feeling, you know, like when the hair stands up on the back of your neck? I tried to ignore it, but it only grew stronger once we reached the site. I kept telling myself it was nerves and then that daymare happened.” Lucy didn’t want to admit it, but in hindsight all the warning bells were there, and she’d chosen to ignore them. The creepy feelings, the energy drains, that daymare… If she’d listened to her instincts, she could have invoked a protection barrier. Of course, with how strong the energy source had been, she didn’t know if it would have worked, but trying would have been better than nothing.

“Yeah, the daymare. Do you remember it?”

She squeezes her eyes shut still wishing she couldn’t, but nods, “I do.” Sometimes her abilities came in handy and other times it was more like a curse. Lucy couldn’t see ghosts, but she could feel them, hear them, and being a sensitive attracted them to her. Most were benign, simply stuck in this realm, while others were angry and strong enough to affect the living world. As a sensitive, Lucy was more likely to become a target because just as she could sense them, they could sense her.

“Are you up to telling me? You don’t have to if you don’t want to cause you were pretty freaked out about it.”

“I should…”

Natsu realizes just thinking about it is triggering a small panic attack again. He sees her body start to shiver and shake. “H-Hey,” he quickly crawls over, pulls her into his lap and cradles her. “Don’t force yourself.”

“No, I-I want to. Maybe if I let it out, i-it’ll help.” Lucy releases an exhale. “I was in the forest hearing all these drumbeats and chanting and it was getting louder.” Her hands cover her ears as if she was re-living the dream. “I was so confused, no idea how I got there. My feet started to sink into the ground, and I couldn’t fight back when something grabbed me. I-I started to panic and the word kapu kept ringing in my head. I was screaming for you, for anyone… ugh the drums! A-and that’s when I woke up.”

He moves her hands away from her ears and tightens his embrace in a bid to make her feel safe again.

“After you calmed me down, I was able to forget about it for a while. I figured it was just a bad dream and moved on. But then during dinner I started to feel drained, like all my energy was being sucked away. I tried to ignore it thinking I was just tired and the next thing I knew, I woke up in the truck.”

“And this has never happened to you before?”

She shakes her head no. “At least not this bad before.” This wasn’t the first time Lucy had encountered an area heavy with spiritual energy. The islands were rife with it, but this was the first time that it had affected her to this extent.

“So, it has happened before?”

“Sort of… like once before when I went to a place that I learned later has evil spirits.” Lucy relaxes a little. “Best I can explain it, is when there’s really strong energies around me, it makes me feel weird, like zapped. Maybe there were powerful spirits around the camping area.” A chill runs along her spine causing her to shiver. “Definitely not going back to that place again.” Lucy looks up at Natsu. “Do you think I’m crazy?”

“Far from it.” He hugs her tighter. “You just have a gift and there’s nothing wrong with that.”

Lucy snorts a laugh, “can I return this gift?”

“Mmmm,” he chuckles too, “probably not. But you know, you’re not alone, right? I mean, you’re the only person I know that’s actually seen stuff, but as far as being sensitive, you’re not the only one. My mom says that I have a little bit of empathic abilities. I don’t know,” he shrugs, “I just know I pick up on how people are feeling around me. That’s why I kept asking if you were okay.”

“Wow,” her eyes widen, “I had no idea.”

“Yeah, cause I don’t advertise it,” Natsu laughs. “The guys know about me, but it’s not something I talk about to others.”

She sighs, “guess we were both hiding something from each other.”

“I won’t hold it against you, if you won’t hold it against me.”

“Thank you Natsu.” Lucy leans up and kisses him softly. She cups his cheek in her hands, “I really appreciate you being so understanding.”

He places his hand over hers, eyes smiling, just holding the special moment. “I’m just glad you’re okay.” He then pulls her head against his shoulder.

Lucy settles happily on his lap just relieved that the whole ordeal was over. It was disheartening that she wouldn’t get to hang out with their friends this weekend but having Natsu with her was enough for now. They still had the rest of the summer to spare.

While she recuperated in his arms, Natsu sends a text to Gray and Levy explaining what happened. To his surprise the girl sends a message back saying she may know what Lucy was experiencing. There was a Hawaiian legend from the volcano area that may explain it. So, he calls Levy and puts her on speakerphone.

According to the girls readings, during the time King Kamehameha the First was working to unify all of the islands, many battles took place with local chiefs, including in the volcano area. Legend holds that sometimes spirits of deceased soldiers will continue to march in death. Such ‘Night Marchers’ have been seen right around the area where K.O.E.C. is located. They come out at specific times, which Levy had no idea when that could be. But perhaps, that was the source of what affected Lucy?

It was as good a guess as any.

Levy, “Some say that if the living encounters them, unless there is an aumakua in the procession of marchers to protect that person, they can become ill or even die from exposure. Course no one’s ever verified any of that.”

“I remember reading about the night marchers. I always thought it was exaggerated like a lot of claims are.” Lucy frowns, “but it sure explains what I might have been sensing.” She’d studied local lore because it was interesting to her and the culture in Hawaii made it fairly easy to research things. Stories of ancient tales and ghostly encounters abound here, but there was so much information, it wasn’t always easy to tell fact from fiction.

“Do you think they were warning you or something?” Natsu questions. “Cause it wasn’t even fully nighttime yet and I heard they come out later in the evening.”

“Ugh,” Lucy groans, “I have no idea because I really don’t fully understand all this stuff yet. Like I said, I thought night marchers were just folklore, so I never believed all the stories. But thanks Levy, knowing what it might have been makes me feel a lot better that I wasn’t going crazy.”

Levy, “Aww, you’re welcome Lu! It’s kind of late to pack it in for the night, but everyone agrees we rather find somewhere else to camp so you guys can join us for the rest of the weekend.”

“Wow, really? That’ll be so great!”

Levy, “Of course! It’s always better when everyone’s together. Take care you guys, and don’t worry about us. I’ll text you as soon as we figure out the plan.”

Natsu hangs up the phone and bundles Lucy close. “So, what’dya say? Spend the night here with me?”

“Your parents won’t mind?”

“Pfft, my parents love you. Just kinda bummed we can’t… you know,” he grins.

“I’m just as bummed about that too,” she teases, “but there’s always tomorrow.” Lucy cuddles against him and closes her eyes. Natsu’s energy was so soothing to her and now she knew why. It was kind of amusing that she ended up with a guy who had gifts like her, albeit a different one. Still, it made her feel normal for once in her entire life. “Thank you again Natsu, you know, for everything.”

He kisses the top of her head and leans his against hers. “You’re welcome, weirdo.”

“Yeah, well a weirdo you’re stuck with.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

><><><>Notes<><><><

Much of the spookier elements are based off an experience I had when I was around the age of 11 when we were taken to this location for a school trip. By the end of the day I was getting so sick a chaperone had to take me home, but just like in the story, once we were away from the area, I was completely fine. I’ve had many experiences over the years, this one isn’t even the scariest. No idea how you label me, all I know is I am sensitive, possibly an empath, I absorb and affect energy. I don’t actually see spirits, I just sense them and generally unless they are strong like those in this story, they don’t bother me or can’t because I can repel them now. Oh, and the reason I made Natsu have something too is just because lol. My husband actually sees stuff, and I think it’s ironic that I picked someone that has gifts too. 

[wildeoaths]

LGBTQ Book & Film Recommendations

Hello! As someone who tries to read widely, it can sometimes be frustrating to find good (well-written, well-made) LGBTQ+ works of literature and film, and mainstream recommendations only go so far. This is my shortlist. 

Some caveats: 1) I have only watched/seen some of these, though they have all been well-received.

2) The literature list is primarily focused on adult literary and genre fiction, since that is what I mostly read, and I feel like it’s easier to find queer YA fiction. Cece over at ProblemsOfABookNerd (YT) covers a lot of newer releases and has a YA focus, so you can check her out for more recommendations.

3) There are a ton of good films and good books that either reference or discuss queer theory, LGBTQ history and literary theory. These tend to be more esoteric and academic, and I’m not too familiar with queer theory, so they’ve largely been left off the list. I do agree that they’re important, and reading into LGBTQ-coding is a major practice, but they’re less accessible and I don’t want to make the list too intimidating.

4) I linked to Goodreads and Letterboxd because that’s what I use and I happen to really enjoy the reviews.

Any works that are bolded are popular, or they’re acclaimed and I think they deserve some attention. I’ve done my best to flag potential objections and triggers, but you should definitely do a search of the reviews. DoesTheDogDie is also a good resource. Not all of these will be suitable for younger teenagers; please use your common sense and judgement.

Please feel free to chime in in the replies (not the reblogs) with your recommendations, and I’ll eventually do a reblog with the additions!

BOOKS

> YOUNG ADULT

Don’t @ me asking why your favourite YA novel isn’t on this list. These just happen to be the picks I felt might also appeal to older teens/twentysomethings.

Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe

Clap When You Land by Elizabeth Acevedo - poetry.

Felix Ever After by Kacen Callender - trans male teen protagonist. 

Red, White & Royal Blue

Simon vs the Homo Sapiens Agenda

The Gentleman’s Guide To Vice And Virtue

The Raven Boys (and Raven Cycle)

> LITERATURE: GENERAL

This list does skew M/M; more NB, trans and WLW recommendations are welcomed!

A Little Life by Hanya Yanagihara. One of the most acclaimed contemporary LGBTQ novels and you’ve probably heard of it. Will probably make you cry.

A Single Man by Christopher Isherwood. Portrait of a middle-aged gay man.

Brideshead Revisited by Evelyn Waugh. M/M affair, British student high society; definitely nostalgic for the aristocracy so be aware of the context.

Call Me By Your Name by André Aciman. It’s somewhat controversial, it’s gay, everyone knows the film at least.

Cronus’ Children / Le Jardin d'Acclimation by Yves Navarre. Winner of the Goncourt prize.

Dancer From The Dance by Andrew Holleran. A young man in the 1970s NYC gay scene. Warning for drugs and sexual references.

Dorian, An Imitation by Will Self. Adaptation of Orscar Wilde’s novel. Warning for sexual content.

Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Cafe by Fannie Flagg. Two wlw in the 1980s. Also made into a film; see below.

Gemini by Michel Tournier. The link will tell you more; seems like a very complex read. TW for troubling twin dynamics.

Giovanni’s Room by James Baldwin. Another iconic M/M work.

Lost Boi by Sassafras Lowrey. A queer punk reimagining of Peter Pan. Probably one of the more accessible works on this list!

Lie With Me by Philippe Besson. Two teenage boys in 1980s France.

Maurice by E. M. Forster. Landmark work written in 1914. Also made into a film; see below.

Middlesex by Jeffrey Eugenides. An expansive (and long) novel about the story of Cal, a hermaphrodite, by the author of The Virgin Suicides.

Orlando by Virginia Woolf. Plays with gender, time and space. Virginia Woolf’s ode to her lover Vita Sackville-West. What more do you want? (also a great film; see below).

Oscar Wilde’s works - The Picture of Dorian Gray would be the place to start. Another member of the classical literary canon.

Saga, vol.1 by Brian K. Vaughn and Fiona Staples. Graphic novel; warning for sexual content.

Stone Butch Blues by Leslie Feinburg. An acclaimed work looking at working-class lesbian life and gender identity in pre-Stonewall America.

The Holy Innocents by Gilbert Adair. The basis for Bertolucci’s The Dreamers (2003). I am hesitant to recommend this because I have not read this, though I have watched the film; the M/M dynamic and LGBTQ themes do not seem to be the primary focus. Warning for sexual content and incestuous dynamics between the twins.

The Animals At Lockwood Manor by Jane Healey. Plays with gothic elements, set during WW2, F/F elements.

The Hours by Michael Cunningham. References Woolf’s Mrs Dalloway. Probably a good idea to read Virginia Woolf first.

The Immoralist by André Gide. Translated from French.

The Song of Achilles by Madeline MIller. Drawing from the Iliad, focusing on Achilles and Patroclus. Contemporary fantasy that would be a good pick for younger readers.

The Swimming Pool Library by Alan Hollinghurst. Gay life pre-AIDS crisis. Apparently contains a fair amount of sexual content.

What Belongs To You by Garth Greenwell. A gay man’s coming of age in the American South.

> LITERATURE: WORLD LITERATURE

American and Western experiences are more prominent in LGBTQ works, just due to the way history and the community have developed, and the difficulties of translation. These are English and translated works that specifically foreground the experiences of non-White people living in (often) non-Western societies. I’m not white or American myself and recommendations in this area are especially welcomed.

All Boys Aren’t Blue by George M. Johnson. The memoirs and essays of a queer black activist, exploring themes of black LGBTQ experiences and masculinity.

A People’s History of Heaven by Mathangi Subramanian. Female communities and queer female characters in a Bangalore slum. A very new release but already very well received.

Confessions of a Mask by Yukio Mishima. Coming-of-age in post-WW1 Japan. This one’s interesting, because it’s definitely at least somewhat autobiographical. Mishima can be a tough writer, and you should definitely look into his personality and his life when reading his work.

Disoriental by Négar Djavadi. A family saga told against the backdrop of Iranian history by a queer Iranian woman. Would recommend going into this knowing at least some of the political and historical context.

How We Fight For Our Lives by Saeed Jones. A coming-of-age story and memoir from a gay, black man in the American South.

In The Dream House by Carmen Maria Machado. Another acclaimed contemporary work about the dynamics of abuse in LGBTQ relationships. Memoir.

Girl, Woman, Other by Bernardine Evaristo. Contemporary black British experience, told from the perspectives of 12 diverse narrators.

> POETRY

Crush by Richard Siken. Tumblr loves Richard Siken, worth a read.

Diving Into The Wreck by Adrienne Rich.

He’s So Masc by Chris Tse.

If Not, Winter: Fragments of Sappho, trans. Anne Carson. The best presentation of Sappho we’re likely to get.

Lord Byron’s works - Selected Poems may be a good starting point. One of the Romantics and part of the classical literary canon.

Les Fleurs du Mal by Charles Baudelaire. The explicitly lesbian poems are apparently in the les fleurs du mal section.

> MEMOIR & NONFICTION

And The Band Played On: Politics, People and the AIDS Epidemic by Randy Shilts. An expansive, comprehensive history and exposure of the failures of media and the Reagan administration, written by an investigative journalist. Will probably make you rightfully angry.

How to Survive A Plague: The Inside Story of How Citizens and Science Tamed AIDS by David France. A reminder of the power of community and everyday activism, written by a gay reporter living in NYC during the epidemic.

Indecent Advances: The Hidden History of Murder and Masculinity Before Stonewall by James Polchin. True crime fans, this one’s for you. Sociocultural history constructed from readings of the news and media.

Queer: A Graphic History by Meg-John Barker. It’s illustrated, it’s written by an academic, it’s an easier introduction to queer theory. I still need to pick up a copy, but it seems like a great jumping-off point with an overview of the academic context.

Real Queer America by Samantha Allen. The stories of LGBTQ people and LGBTQ narratives in the conservative parts of America. A very well received contemporary read.

The Argonauts by Maggie Nelson. Gender, pregnancy and queer partnership. I’m not familiar with this but it is quite popular.

When Brooklyn Was Queer by Hugh Ryan. LGBTQ history of Brooklyn from the nineteenth century to pre-Stonewall.

FILMS

With films it’s difficult because characters are often queercoded and we’re only now seeing films with better rep. This is a shortlist of better-rated films with fairly explicit LGBTQ coding, LGBTQ characters, or made by LGBTQ persons. Bolded films are ones that I think are likely to be more accessible or with wider appeal.

A Single Man (2009) - Colin Firth plays a middle-aged widower.

Blue Is The Warmest Colour (2013) - A controversial one. Sexual content.

Booksmart (2019) - A pretty well made film about female friendship and being an LGBTQ teen.

Boy Erased (2018) - Warning for conversion therapy.

BPM (Beats Per Minute) (2017) - Young AIDS activists in France.

Brokeback Mountain (2005) - Cowboy gays. This film is pretty famous, do you need more summary? Might make a good triple bill with Idaho and God’s Own Country.

Cabaret (1972) - Liza Minelli. Obvious plug to also look into Vincent Minelli.

Calamity Jane (1953) - There’s a lot that could be said about queer coding in Hollywood golden era studio films, but this is apparently a fun wlw-cowboy westerns-vibes watch. Read the reviews on this one!

Call Me By Your Name (2017) - Please don't debate this film in the notes.

Caravaggio (1986) - Sean Bean and Tilda Swinton are in it. Rather explicit.

Carol (2015) - Cate Blanchett and Rooney Mara are lesbians in 1950s America.

Clouds of Sils Maria (2014) - Hard to summarise, but one review calls it “lesbian birdman” and it has both Juliette Binoche and Kristen Stewart in it, so consider watching it.

Colette (2018) - About the bi/queer female writer Colette during the belle epoque era. This had Keira Knightley so by all rights Tumblr should love it.

Fried Green Tomatoes (1991) - Lesbian love in 1920s/80s? America.

God’s Own Country (2017) - Gay and British.

Happy Together (1997) - By Wong Kar Wai. No further explanation needed.

Heartbeats (2010) - Bi comedy.

Heartstone (2016) - It’s a story about rural Icelandic teenagers.

Henry Gamble’s Birthday Party (2015) -  Queer teens and religious themes.

Je, Tu, Il, Elle (1974) - Early Chantal Akerman. Warning for sexual scenes.

Kill Your Darlings (2013) - Ginsberg, Kerouac and the Beat poets.

Love, Simon (2018)

Lovesong (2016) - Lesbian and very soft. Korean-American characters.

Love Songs (2007) - French trio relationship. Louis Garrel continues to give off non-straight vibes.

Mädchen In Uniform (1931) - One of the earliest narrative films to explicitly portray homosexuality. A piece of LGBTQ cinematic history.

Maurice (1987) - Adaptation of the novel.

Midnight Cowboy (1969) - Heavy gay coding.

Milk (2008) - Biopic of Harvey Milk, openly gay politician. By the same director who made My Own Private Idaho.

Moonlight (2016) - It won the awards for a reason.

My Own Private Idaho (1991) - Another iconic LGBTQ film. River Phoenix.

Mysterious Skin (2004) - Go into this film aware, please. Young actors, themes of prostitution, child ab*se, r***, and a lot of trauma.

Orlando (1992) - An excellent adaptation of Virginia Woolf’s novel, and in my opinion far more accessible. Watch it for the queer sensibilities and fantastic period pieces.

Pariah (2011) - Excellent coming-of-age film about a black lesbian girl in Brooklyn.

Paris is Burning (1990) - LANDMARK DOCUMENTARY piece of LGBTQ history, documenting the African-American and Latine drag and ballroom roots of the NYC queer community.

Persona (1966) - It’s an Ingmar Bergman film so I would recommend knowing what you’re about to get into, but also I can’t describe it because it’s an Ingmar Bergman film.

Picnic At Hanging Rock (1975) - Cult classic queercoded boarding school girls.

Portrait of a Lady on Fire (2019) - By Celine Sciamma, who’s rapidly establishing herself in the mainstream as a LGBTQ film director. This is a wlw relationship and the queer themes are reflected in the cinematic techniques used. A crowd pleaser.

Pride (2014) - Pride parades with a British sensibility.

Rebel Without A Cause (1955) - Crowd-pleaser with bi coding and James Dean. The OG version of “you’re tearing me apart!”.

Rocketman (2019) - It’s Elton John.

Rent (2005) - Adaptation of the stage musical. Not the best film from a technical standpoint. I recommend the professionally recorded 2008 closing night performance instead.

Rope (1948) - Hitchcock film.

Sorry Angel (2018) - Loving portraits of gay French men.

Talk To Her (2002) - By Spanish auteur Pedro Almodóvar.

Tangerine (2015) - About trans sex workers. The actors apparently had a lot of input in the film, which was somehow shot on an iPhone by the same guy who went on to do The Florida Project. 

The Duke of Burgundy (2014) - Lesbians in an S&M relationship that’s going stale, sexual content obviously.

The Gay Deceivers (1969) - The reviews are better than me explaining.

The Handmaiden (2016) - Park Chan-wook makes a film about Korean lesbians and is criminally snubbed at the Oscars. Warning for sexual themes and kink.

The Favourite (2018) - Period movie, and lesbian.

Thelma And Louise (1991) - An iconic part of LGBTQ cinematic history. That is all.

The Celluloid Closet (1995) - A look into LGBTQ cinematic history, and the historical contexts we operated in when we’ve snuck our narratives into film.

The Miseducation of Cameron Post (2018) - Adaptation of the YA novel.

The Neon Demon (2016) - Apparently based on Elizabeth Bathory, the blood-drinking countess. Very polarising film and rated R.

The Perks of Being A Wallflower (2012) - Book adaptation. It has Ezra Miller in it I guess.

The Rocky Horror Picture Show (1975) - No explanation needed, queer and transgressive vibes all the way.

They (2017) - Gender identity, teenagers.

Those People (2015) - They’re gay and they’re artists in New York.

Tomboy (2011) - One of the few films I’ve seen dealing with gender identity in children (10 y/o). Celine Sciamma developing her directorial voice.

Tropical Malady (2004) - By Thai auteur Apichatpong Weerasethakul. His is a very particular style so don’t sweat it if you don’t enjoy it.

Vita and Virginia (2018) - Virginia Woolf and Vita Sackville-West biopic

Water Lilies (2007) - Celine Sciamma again! Teenage lesbian coming-of-age. 

When Marnie Was There (2014) - A Studio Ghibli film exploring youth, gender and sexuality.

Weekend (2011) - An indie film about young gay love.

Wilde (1997) - It’s a film about Oscar Wilde.

XXY (2007) - About an intersex teenager. Reviews on this are mixed.

Y Tu Mama Tambien (2001) - Wonder what Diego Luna was doing before Rogue One? This is one of the things. Warning for sexual content.

[secretsofthedarkestkind-arch]

Ramble part 4 for season 1 episode 1. Twenty minutes left to go. The further I get into this I might be braver to move away so much from canon. I don’t really have faith in myself to write these characters but I’m going to try. At least some of them. 

As always triggers are tagged if I miss something please tell me.

Word count: 3,085-- longest one yet

Part One Part Two Part Three

@storieswrittcn​ (Tell me what you think, just don’t kill Caroline yet.)​

Lee was leaning against the lockers, her back and the sole of one converse touching the metal,  when the bell finally rang to dismiss the current class period. There wasn’t any reason to scurry off knowing if a teacher saw her she’d just get into more trouble. The brunette could have just left the building, gone back to the boarding house, but she actually wanted to see what Stefan was going to say. Of course, she didn’t want a lecture but to see him riled up somewhat gave her a thrill. She was bolder than she’d been when they were younger. Seventeen or even eighteen year old Lee wouldn’t have questioned authority like she just had. Seemed dear Stefan was the same. 

She’d seen the beginning fires of jealousy spark in his eyes due to the look Elena was giving her. The regret that it hadn’t been him to step up. Little did her brother know he didn’t need to worry. Lee had no interest in the young doppelganger, she was a knock off of the original. That didn’t mean she wouldn’t try to befriend her; out of necessity for what was to come and out of boredom. Besides, the toad needed to be put in his place. 

Stefan was one of the first out of the room, his features a mixture of sulking and pure anger. Lee didn’t fear the anger as she might have when she was still human. Her brother gripped her arm above her elbow, his enhanced strength stinging as his fingers dug into her skin. He might be weaker than she was because of his source of blood but that didn’t mean when he was angry his touch wasn’t enough to make her want to hiss. Lee didn’t though, refusing to give him that much satisfaction. 

He drug her away from the other prying eye, especially of two specific people, toward their own lockers. “What the hell was that?” Stefan snapped out, not so nicely pushing Lee against the metal. 

“Careful,” Lee warned, her own lips starting to curl into a snarl. “Your precious Elena is watching and you wouldn’t want her to start to think you’re violent on top of being a coward would you?” She taunts. Stefan looked from the corner of his eye to see Lee was in fact right. Bonnie and Elena had followed them but stood a few feet away both watching. The older sibling let go of her arm and opened his locker. “All I did was put that ass in his place. He was baiting people, just to belittle them when they failed. You know I can’t stand men like that.”

“You should have just left it. You’re lucky he didn’t do more than kick you out into the hall.” Stefan sighed, trying to pull his temper in.

“Lucky?” Lee asked more than amused. “Why? Because I was stirring things up? Please, Stefan. Me acting like a rebellious, disrespectful sixteen year old is not what Zach was talking about last night.” She rolls her eyes, “Don’t hide behind excuses like you always do.” 

Stefan slammed his locker closed, eyes narrowed at Lee who didn’t back down. “I don’t hide behind excuses.” The vampire ground out between clenched teeth.

“You do and you always have,” She took a small step closer, “Just as you’ve let the words of others guide your actions.” Excluding when you were a ripper, Lee thinks. 

“You’re just as bad as Damon.” Stefan looks her up and down, “Why did I think asking you for help was a wise decision?”

She’s about to tell him she’s more than likely worse than their elder brother when a throat clears behind them. Lee looks past Stefan’s shoulder to see Elena standing there with Bonnie. The young witch is giving Stefan a distrustful look while Elena seems almost hesitant to interrupt, books tucked tightly against her chest. “Hey,” Lee exhales, moving from the lockers to stand closer to the two girls. 

“Hey,” Elena says tucking some hair behind her ear. “I just--well, we really--wanted to say thank you.”

“What you did was pretty badass. I don’t think anyone has ever tried to take Mr.Tanner down a few pegs like that.” Bonnie gives Lee her attention.

Lee knows Stefan is hating the attention she’s getting, to be honest, she’s not enjoying it either. “You don’t have to thank me. He was pushing my buttons. His last gibe was just too much of a low blow to ignore. People like him piss me off.” Lee explains, “I would have done it even if his words hadn’t been directed at either of you.” She shrugs trying to brush the compliments off.

“Right,” Bonnie gives her a smile that is supposed to be knowing but couldn’t be farther from the truth. 

“You’re still coming to the falls tonight, right?” Elena asks almost hopefully.

“We are,” Stefan finally cuts in. Both girls look at him before waiting on Lee to answer.

“I told Caroline I’d be there, I try to always keep my word.” Lee adjusts the satchel over her shoulder.

“And Caroline is the only reason you’re going?” Bonnie asks. She’s as much trouble as Emily was, Lee can just feel it.

“More like for a beer and some music,” Lee counters. The brunette purposely grabs the strap of her satchel that’s across her chest with her left hand, hoping the two will see her daylight ring and take a damn hint. If they see it, they don’t say anything. The warning bell for next period rings out. “And with that, I’m off to art. I’ll see you all later.” 

-----

Lee can’t remember the last time she’d been to the falls and she didn’t think it had ever been for a party. With her cell phone in hand, the vampire looked through her closet once more. She wasn’t exactly wanting to draw attention to herself, more because yet again another day had gone by without Katherine replying. Lee knew it wasn’t because she was in danger. Niklaus was far enough from New York that it wasn’t a worry. No, her lover’s silence was likely due to the joke of a June wedding. It was only a seven hour drive from their loft in New York to Mystic Falls, Lee could only hope Katherine wasn’t planning on showing up this early.

But if she did, Lee didn’t want the attention of three teenage girls or more on her. “Presentable but understated,” She mutters, free hand reaching for a pair of darker gray skinny jeans tossing them on the bed behind her. “Not Daddy but not a slob.” Her eyes scanned her tops, grabbing a lighter grey tank top paired with a black and grey flannel. “Maybe a little daddy…” Lee can’t help the snort of laughter that follows. Katherine knew who she’d chosen to spend eternity with. She tosses the shirts back onto the bed also. “Shoes…” Lee wasn’t going to ruin a pair of converse just to get to the falls, “Maybe something a little less teenager….” She grabs a slimmer pair of black suede Timberland boots. “Perfect.”

-----

The music hit her ears before they could truly see the group of teenagers, “Aren’t they worried they’re going to get caught?” She questioned but didn’t expect an answer from Stefan. He’d been broody the rest of the day since their scene in the hallway. “Oh come on, you can’t ignore me forever.” Still nothing. “Just tell her, I’m not who she thinks I am. Not a lie,” Lee moves to walk backward so she can look at her brother. “Tell her, I’m an ass.” She holds up one finger, “That I’m...arrogant.” Another finger. “That I have too many walls to break down, that I’m already in a committed relationship.” Two more fingers. “Oh! If you really want to stop her, tell her that I still suck my thumb.” That caused a smile to start at the corners of his lips, “Still suck your thumb?”

“I don’t but she doesn’t need to know that.” Lee shrugs, she paused for him to catch up and linked their arms together. “I’m not Damon, Stef. I don’t want your girl. I have my own and I’d die before I ever thought of cheating on her.” Either by her own hand or Katherine’s.

“When am I going to meet this woman that’s stolen your heart?” Stefan asks, “It’s been how many decades now?”

“You might sometime soon. But for now, she stays a mystery.” Lee tells him. “Our family and loved ones don’t mix.”

----

They finally made it toward the picnic area, students everywhere. Lee un-linked her arm from Stefan’s to avoid being hit by an over enthusiastic jock who clearly was already three sheets to the wind. She looks around, taking it all in, briefly wondering what it would have been like to grow up like this. Her aunt used to say Lee  was a soul gifted long before her correct time. The brunette could see herself here, with these teens-- not worrying about running, family feuds that lasted over a century. This could have been her time. But it just hadn’t been. She swallows roughly, she’d been born when she had been so she could be on that train in 1862. She had to believe that. The alternative was depressing. 

Stefan came to a stop, Lee knew what he was doing and used her own hearing to try and find someone they’d know. “Just admit it, Elena.” Bonnie’s playful tone fills her ears, Lee taps Stefan’s arm.

“Oh, okay, so he’s a little pretty.” Elena seems to hesitantly admit. Lee turns to her brother with a smirk and an entertained glint in her eyes.

“Seems you’re perfectly fine in her eyes,” Lee teases, they both look until they find the girls by a bonfire.

“He has that romance novel stare.” Bonnie argues. Stefan starts to let a smile cross his lips and Lee laughs.

“That’s a new one,” She mutters.

“Stefan looked--” Lee stopped listening with a groan as Stefan’s smile grew. 

“And now I need something stronger than beer.” Stefan pushed her side lightly. “Come on lover boy, stop listening and start living.” He starts to follow after her when Caroline jumps in front of them.

“Hey, you made it!” Lee can see the joy in her eyes, over which one of them she isn’t sure yet. But the blonde is happy to see them.

Lee gives her a friendly smile, small nod of her head, her hands moving to tuck into her back pockets. “Yeah.”

“I did.” Stefan tells her, his own small smile on his lips, hands moving into his front pockets. They aren’t siblings at all.

“Well, let’s get you a drink.” Her attention solely on Stefan. Lee knows a train wreck is about to happen. Can see the gears turning in Stefan’s head about how to get out of this. Lee only prays he uses a little tact for this. 

“Well, I’m---” He tries to start.

“Oh, come on.” She grabs his hand from his pocket to tug him off. Stefan looks at her almost helpless.

“Rather you than me,” Lee mouths she can’t hide her mirth at the situation, but follows after them. Really just to find the drinks. 

She’s only a few steps behind them when she feels the air change, almost as if it’s electrically charged. Lee knows that feeling all too well, magic; uncontrolled, strong magic. The vampire stops, head snapping back to find Bonnie again. The scent feeling her nostrils telling her that it’s from the Bennett line. That kind of magic loose in a crowd of unsuspecting teenagers spells bad. Lee just starts to walk toward them when Bonnie jerks her hand away from the beer bottle where her hand had been resting on Elena’s.

“What?” Elena asks not knowing how to take the small moment they just had.

“That was weird,” Bonnie is overwhelmed. Her voice unsteady. “When I touched you, I saw a crow.” Those words stop Lee once more in her tracks. Damon…

“What?” Now Elena is the one starting to become overwhelmed. Lee can only imagine why, she’s been right all along.

“A crow.” Bonnie repeats as she tries to recall what she’d seen, “There was fog, a man.” Elena’s heartbeat skyrockets. She’s slightly panicking now. “I’m drunk. It’s the drinking,” Bonnie is trying to calm her friend down. “There’s nothing psychic about it.” She takes the bottle away from Elena. “Yeah? Okay. I’m gonna get a refill.” 

“Okay?” Elena isn’t sure what just happened. “Bonnie!” 

Lee cuts through the crowd, weaving until she’s at the young witch’s side. Bonnie jumps slightly. “Don’t do that,” She chuckles still unsteady, she goes to bump Lee but the vampire avoids it. She can’t let Bonnie accidentally pick up on something.

“Didn’t mean to scare you. You alright?” Lee asks genuinely concerned.

“What? Yeah!” Bonnie brushes her off. “Just getting a refill. Did you just get here?”

“Mm-hmm, Stefan got dragged away by Caroline. I was just on the hunt for a drink when I saw you. Care to show me where I can find that beer I mentioned earlier today?” She gives her a charming smile. 

Bonnie laughs with a nod, “Yeah, come on.” 

----

Stefan and Elena had disappeared off together, not something Lee hadn’t expected. But that did leave her alone with Caroline and Bonnie. They’d found themselves on one of the lower bridges talking. They didn’t seem like bad people. Bonnie was someone who truly cared about Elena, was a real best friend. The parallels between Katherine/Emily and Elena/Bonnie kept growing, but each set was vastly different. It almost sucked that when this was all over whatever friendship she built with the youngest Bennett would be ruined. 

Caroline though, Lee just hoped the teen made it out of this alive. The more time she spent with the blonde the more of a tortured soul Lee saw. To most the blonde would see selfish, conceded, overly flirty. But like the night before Lee saw something more. She was lost, no clue of where she belonged or if she did. She didn’t seem like anyone’s first pick, brushed aside for someone-- Elena-- else. She needed a friend that wouldn’t judge or use her for her social rank within the halls of Mystic Falls High.  “So is Elena really your brother’s type?”

Lee takes a long drag from her beer bottle, “I’m not really sure.” Partly true. The two hadn’t really been around each other long enough in decades for her to really answer that. But she did know Elena had his attention--if that was because she looked like Katherine or something more, Lee wasn’t sure. 

“How do you not know?” Bonnie asked outwardly doubting her.

“We don’t really do the whole deep talking thing,” Lee set her bottle down on the ledge behind her. “We don’t bond over girls. He does his thing and I do mine.”

“So you are…” Caroline starts but can’t seem to bring herself to finish what she’s assuming.

“Gay...lesbian?” Lee chuckles, “Yes, I am. If my clothes at times aren't enough of a giveaway.” Not that Lee dressed how she did to fit a stereotype. These clothes were just more comfortable; less suffocating and more her. She studies Caroline’s face, “Does that make you uncomfortable?”

“No!” Caroline jumps to reassure her, taking a step closer. “No, not at all.” She rests a hand on Lee’s arm.

“We’re open-minded,” Bonnie adds in. “We live in the year 2009. We might be in a small town, but that doesn’t mean we’ll judge you. Other people, can’t really say anything about them.”

Lee uses the arm Caroline is holding to grab her beer again, a sly way to get out of the grip, “That’s good to know.” 

“Do you have a type?” The blonde ventures, that flirtatious glint back.

“Caroline!” Bonnie chides.

Lee laughs again, “It’s alright Bonnie.” She takes a breath, “I’m already in a relationship.”

“Oh, I sense an epic love story,” Bonnie wiggles her eyebrows.

“Is she here in Mystic Falls?” Caroline doesn’t seem defeated yet, she’s going to see what her options are.

“Maybe,” Lee acknowledges Bonnie first. “And no,” Her eyes travel back to Caroline. “She’s not. We’re doing long distance at the moment.”

“That can’t be easy. Don’t you think you deserve someone who's right in front of you?” Caroline bites her lower lip.

The blonde is almost as bad as the Sommers’ girl back in 1864. God, Lee hopes Katherine isn’t anywhere near the falls. Lee raises a brow, “You’re shameless aren’t you?”

“Does that bother you?” Caroline takes a step closer and Lee can hear Bonnie mumbling something under her breath.

“No, it doesn’t.” Lee takes a step back, “But I love her.” Lee’s got to find a way to shut this down.

“Mysterious, badass, a charmer, and loyal even when there’s a chance she would never find out? She’s a lucky girl.” Bonnie cuts in and Lee is so thankful.

“I’m just me,” Lee mutters before taking another drink.

At that moment, Matt joins them. “I found them.”

“Hm?” Caroline hum slowly, turning her eyes away from Lee. “Who?”

“Stefan and Elena,” He nods to a bridge further up and all four turn to look.

“Cozy,” Lee comments.

“Romantic,” Bonnie throws out.

“Predictable.” Caroline grumbles.

Bonnie looks at Caroline as if she had two heads, “You were just all--”

“I know,” Caroline cuts her off. “Still, predictable.”

Lee turns away, she goes to say something when she hears Elena ask Stefan if he’s okay. Her head snaps back, trying to figure out what’s going on. Stefan moves away from the doppelganger.

“Oh, um…” He starts rubbing his eyes, face. “Yeah, no. It’s, um, it’s nothing.” He tries to explain away what Lee can only guess is his eyes changing. 

“Excuse me,” Lee sets her bottle down, starting to move away from the small group.

“Where are you going?” Caroline asks.

Lee points up to the two on the bridge, “Stef doesn’t seem the best.” She catches Bonnie’s eyes, “What’s the fastest way up there?” She could use her abilities but with how many people that are here someone would surely see.

“I’ll take you,” Bonnie reassures her.

“He seems fine now.” Matt breaks in. “He’s leaving her.”

Lee glances up to see Stefan moving away from Elena, “--get us a drink.” The younger Salvatore sighs. He’s got to get this shit under control.

[taste-thewaste]

Potential-Madderton fic

Title: Potential Ship: Madderton Word count: ~4800 CW: Fluff, angst, mutual pining, misunderstanding sort of steering the plot lol Summary: Richard and Taron decide to take the next step and go out on their first date...but it’s a disaster. After, they don’t know where they stand with each other. A/N: This fic is a labor of love lol. Someone prompted me from a list of winter prompts that I reblogged forever ago, “our first date goes horribly so i don’t know why i say yes to a second date, and now, we’re stuck at the diner until the snow slows down and i'm having fun” and I’ve been working on this for a long time. This is the longest fic that I think I’ve written! It’s full of fluff and angst and gratuitous writing, so beware lol. Thank you for reading :)

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They’re sharing a pint in a tiny pub, and Taron’s just been stopped by the third person timidly asking for his photo. His eyes light up as he enthusiastically smiles for a selfie, his arm wrapped tight around the girl who owns the phone he’s staring into, and then he gives her a quick hug as she jets off back to her group of friends. Richard’s no stranger to being recognized-it’s happened twice to him tonight, as well-and it’s just a hazard of going out. Taron returns to the table and smiles sheepishly at Richard. 

“Sorry, Rich. It’s not always my favorite thing, but I’m still...grateful, you know? These people enjoy seeing me, my work, and just...I can’t believe this is my life sometimes.” Taron casts his eyes down, his cheeks pink from the beer and the heat of the tiny space and from his own brazen vulnerability. Richard just tilts his head, a slow smile spreading on his face. 

“Can I take you out to dinner Friday night?” Richard blurts, and then his own cheeks are pink and matching Taron’s. 

They’ve spent weeks in this place of non-definition, this gray area of relationship, not acknowledging the ways in which things have changed. They spend their evenings together, in pubs, in the cinema, in each other’s living rooms, and things are, functionally, very similar to the way they’ve always been. Except that now Rich’s knee brushes against Taron’s when they sit on the sofa, and neither of them move; Taron’s eyes linger on Richard’s just the slightest beat longer than they used to; once, in a fit of daring fueled by a few beers, Richard had pulled Taron close to him in a tight hug, buried his face in the sweet spot on T’s neck, kissed it just gently. 

No, they haven’t acknowledged these small moments of intimacy, not until now, and Richard has made a firm, calculated leap into reality. 

“Dinner?” Taron asks, softly, and Richard nods. 

“I...like you,” Richard says, his words trailing off into almost a whisper. It is raw, and vulnerable, and he is filled with fear as soon as the words leave his mouth. Taron is silent for a moment, and in those moments are everything Richard’s worried about since he came to the conclusion that he wanted to ask T out. He feels like a bloody teenager, like he’s covered in pimples and misread the signs; in those few silent moments, he rethinks everything he’s been thinking about this man. He pictures Taron recoiling in revulsion, accusing Richard of being mad, storming out of the pub. He thinks of all of the many ways he could have misread these last few weeks. He admits, to himself, that things were not clear in the slightest. 

“I-I mean, if you’d like to get dinner, that is, no pressure. It could be like tonight, just picking up some food, a beer, whatever, it doesn’t have to be anything serious…it doesn’t have to mean anything.” Now he’s stuttering like a teenager, good Christ. 

And then Taron’s hand is on his, gently, but it’s intentional and Richard looks up, allowing his eyes to meet Taron’s, and he’s calm again, because Taron is calm. 

“Yes, I want to get dinner, and I do want it to mean something,” Taron says evenly, and how could he have been nervous? His face breaks out into a relieved smile, and he nods.

“Okay. Sounds good,” Richard says, and the two of them finish their beers, make plans for Friday evening, laugh at everything stupid.

-------

Friday comes around, and for all the confidence that he’d felt when accepting, Taron will never admit to anyone how nervous he is about this dinner with Richard.

He gets dressed hours early, pulling on a pair of slacks that are both comfortable and flattering, clinging to his bum in just the right way. He pairs it with a dress shirt-dark blue, it brings out his eyes-and a jacket. It’s 4:05, and Rich isn’t due to arrive until 7. Taron’s cheeks flush as he realizes just how early he is, just how nervous he is, but it’s true. He doesn’t know why, but his stomach is churning with anxiety, his hands are shaking, and the only thing he’s certain of is that if he opens his mouth to speak, he’ll vomit all over his expensive shoes. He sits on the couch for a moment, willing his heart to stop pounding. 

“This is bloody ridiculous,” he says to himself, his voice echoing throughout the flat. “It’s Richard.” He has nothing to be nervous about; this is his best mate, his pal, the man with the ocean-blue eyes that he can’t stop thinking about. He’s been dreaming about something like this for ages, since the first time they kissed on Rocketman, and now it’s here and he can’t stop freaking out. 

He stands up from the couch and physically shakes out the nerves, flaps his arms, rolls his neck, attempts to release the tension. “I just have to chill out,” he mutters to himself. 

He kills the next three hours in a variety of ways. He attempts to read three different books, setting each of them down after just a few sentences or paragraphs. He turns on the telly and flips through the channels at lightning speed, not registering anything in front of him, ignoring the blur of the sounds and colors. He shuffles through the music on his phone, changing the songs one after the other. The activity that sticks longest is the game he makes of catching popcorn in his mouth; he tosses them in the air, tilts his head back, careens wildly to let the pieces fall into his mouth. 

By the time Richard arrives to pick him up, Taron is full of popcorn and feels like his eyes are spinning in his head. He’s more nervous than before, somehow, so when the knock comes at the door, he almost pukes. He frantically smoothes down his hair, takes a deep breath and opens the door.

--------

Richard decides to take Taron to the nicest restaurant he can find; he deserves that much, he deserves the world, Richard thinks. He makes a reservation and spends three days choosing what to wear. He bites his nails to the quick and when the day finally comes, he almost talks himself out of going. 

I could tell him I have food poisoning. I could tell him something’s come up and I have to fly home. I could tell him...anything, I could tell him anything because what if this is a terrible idea? 

The only thing that gets him into the car and across to Taron’s flat is reminding himself, calmly, insistently, that this is Taron, after all, his little Duckie, and this will all be fine. It’ll be better than fine, it’ll be brilliant. 

These words simply get him into the car and over to T’s, though. They do little to quell the nervous feeling in the pit of his stomach as he drives there, the trembling in his hands as he approaches Taron’s door. Before he knocks, he takes one last big, deep breath, and reminds himself of the fact that he is absolutely certain he’s the only one who’s nervous. He’s sure that Taron is completely calm and ready for this evening. He reminds himself that everything will be just fine, better than fine. It will be wonderful.

He knocks.

-------- 

I don’t know that I’ve ever been nervous about something and had it turn out worse than I was imagining it, Taron thinks as he lays in bed that evening. It is 10:04 P.M. and he is laying in bed alone, the calling card of a date that didn’t go the way either party had hoped. Taron curls up into a ball and pulls the covers over his head, wishing he could stop reliving their evening, but unable to stop. 

It was as though every moment of their relationship up until that point had vanished out the window. Not just the small tender moments over the last few weeks, but their entire friendship. The car ride was silent and awkward, the only sound coming from Richard fiddling with the radio stations. 

Once they got to the restaurant, the awkwardness only swelled. They both behaved as if they were complete strangers who’d met on an app or through a mutual friend, strangely formal and courteous. Richard didn’t tease him about his hair or the bits of popcorn stuck in his teeth; he didn’t joke with Richard about the way he was walking as if there was a pole shoved into an uncomfortable position. They didn’t even talk about Rocketman or any of their shared experiences. They spoke politely and civilly, talked about the weather (cold); perfunctory details about their families (they were both close with their mums); their taste in music (similar). 

Taron was actually grateful when the food arrived, as it gave him something to do other than stare at Richard awkwardly and smile. They both ate quickly, barely glancing at each other throughout the meal.

“Quite good,” Richard remarked once. 

“Indeed,” Taron answered, swallowing thickly and taking a long drink of water. 

After they’d finished eating, the waiter came back and began to describe the dessert specials, until both Taron and Richard interrupted him with a sharp, short, “No!” 

Richard’s face flushed and he offered the waiter a shaky smile. “No, thank you, sir. Just the check, if you don’t mind.” 

Richard had insisted on paying, despite Taron’s repeated attempts to either pay for the whole thing or toss in his own portion, and they left quickly, for a repeat of the painfully silent car ride back to Taron’s flat. 

Once they’d arrived, Richard unbuckled his seat belt and started to open the door, but Taron had stopped him. 

“‘S okay, Rich. Why don’t we say goodnight now?” he’d muttered. Richard had cast his eyes down and nodded. “Thank you for dinner.” 

“Thanks for coming,” Richard had said quietly. “Have a good evening.” Taron had nodded and practically fled from the car, his heart thumping in his chest. 

Now, here he is, in bed alone at an absurdly early hour, and his heart is still thumping, but from something else. They’d tried it, going out, and it hadn’t worked. That isn’t what’s upsetting him, though. Sure he’s sad that their attempts to turn their relationship into something more haven’t worked; he’s been looking forward to more. The excitement of more between he and Rich has kept him going for longer than he cares to admit, and now that he knows it won’t work between them, the letdown is hard. 

But what’s really hard is the crushing feeling that something has changed between them. He’s closer to Richard than he is with almost anyone else. Rich is kind and funny and smart and the idea of losing him in any way, any capacity, as his friend, is devastating. He can’t shake the feeling that that’s what’s happened, though, and it’s too much for him to handle.

Taron burrows deeper underneath the covers and shuts his eyes. 

-------

The next morning, Richard rolls over in bed and squints against the bright sunlight. The first thing he’d done after getting home was fix himself a drink, then another, and another. It’s making the early morning sun a bit harsher than usual, and it’s, blissfully, all he can focus on for a minute. Then the previous evening floods back, and he buries his face in his hands. 

He’d been so stiff, so uptight, so worried that everything was going to go wrong that he’d ruined it all. He’d wanted Taron to like him so badly that he’d been unable to think of any reason why Taron would like him in the first place. He’d been unable to think of a single thing to say that hadn’t already been said, and then their night had ended obscenely early. 

After a shower, choking down a late breakfast and trying not to puke, he decides to fire off a text to Taron. Bugger it, he thinks as he types it out and sends it before he can lose his nerve. 

Hey. Thanks for going with me last night.

It takes twenty minutes for Taron to answer when it normally takes just a minute or two-the man is glued to his phone, always searching for cat videos and recipes-and the fact of that doesn’t escape Richard’s radar. 

No problem.

Richard’s heart sinks at the reply. It is blunt, matter-of-fact, to the point. There’s no banter, no back-and-forth. He takes a deep breath and plunges forward. 

Wanna grab a beer later? 

This time his reply takes two hours to arrive, during which Richard has taken to pacing the floors, worrying, flipping through channels. When it finally comes in, he leaps on his phone and hates himself for being so manic. 

Not today. Maybe next week.

There is no question mark at the of his sentence, he is not asking Rich if he’s free next week. He is making an excuse, deflecting from the question Rich had asked him. Rich quietly clicks his phone off and slides it onto the coffee table. His heart sinks, and tears well up in his eyes, unbidden. He sits on the couch, the low evening light just starting to filter in through the windows. 

Well, he thinks, at least I know where we stand now. He has taken the best friendship he’s ever had and ruined it in one evening, or so it seems. He knows he should leave Taron alone now. Their date had gone disastrously bad, the kind of bad that you write a shitty movie about, and he knows he should just let it be and see what happens naturally. 

This, of course, is something Richard simply can’t do. 

He spends the evening wallowing, watching bad TV and going to bed early. When he wakes the next day, he turns his phone back on, hopefully, and waits to see if Taron has sent him any messages. Maybe he’d misinterpreted the text last night, maybe Taron had just been in a bad mood or tired. Maybe, he thought hopefully, maybe he’d even misinterpreted how bad the entire date had gone! 

He waits a moment for his phone to catch up, but there are no notifications from Taron. One from his mom, another from his sister, and one from Jamie, but none from the person he really wants to talk to. His heart sinks, and he slides the phone back onto his nightstand, forgets about it for the rest of the day. 

-----------

When Richard texts him the day after their disastrous date, Taron sits with it for a while, lets it roll around in his head like a marble. His first instinct is to fire something back to Rich immediately, a gushing text about how he’s sorry it was so awkward and he wants to try again and no matter what he will always want Rich as a friend. 

But he stops himself. He tells himself he will wait, at least a little bit. 

During those twenty minutes, Taron’s mind whirls at a million miles a minute, and by the time he finally decides to text back, he’s convinced himself that Rich had only reached out to be polite. It would be just like Rich to do that, he thinks. The man is over-the-top polite in every scenario; he thanks everyone over and over, he holds doors open for strangers, he pushes his chair in when he leaves a table. It’s something that Taron has always admired in Richard, a quality that has always made him love him even more. 

But now he thinks that maybe Rich has only texted him to be polite. Maybe he’s just texting him to be nice so that their friendship doesn’t end on the sour note that had been their date last night. So when he answers, he is cordial, but there is no emotion behind it. He nearly scoffs when the text comes through and Rich pretends like he wants to hang out again; another attempt at being polite. He deflects, and their conversation ends. 

After he sets his phone down, he is filled with an immense sadness, like a weight pressing down on him. He wants nothing more than to crawl back into bed and hide under the covers again; disappear from the world until he feels ready to face it without Richard. 

But face it without Rich he must, because the show must go on. If life has taught him anything, it’s that.

---------

For the next two weeks, they are both at a stalemate, both men wanting desperately to reach out and both being too stubborn and pig-headed to do so. Taron sits in his flat, goes over the scripts that he’s sent, stares occasionally at his phone and pretends like he’s not hoping to see Rich’s name light up. He watches telly mindlessly, flipping through the channels and trying to distract himself from Richard’s face, which pushes its way into his mind more often than not.

Richard does the same, but he also cleans like a madman; when he’s stressed, he cleans. He scrubs the bathtub, polishes the countertops, and reorganizes his entire closet. He alphabetizes his bookshelves and rearranges his pots and pans. When he’s done, his flat is practically sparkling, and he’s still thinking about Taron.

Despite the fact that they are both constantly thinking about the other, neither of them wants to be the first to text. Neither of them think there is anything to text about. 

One night, though, Richard is sitting at home and he’s bored. He’s more than bored, he feels as though he will crawl out of his skin if he doesn’t get out of his flat right that very second. He’s done everything he can think of to keep himself entertained; he’s read books, he’s flipped through the channels, he’s listened to music. Nothing has kept his attention, and as such he is practically vibrating with anxiety and irritation. 

So he grabs his keys and his coat and he takes off for a drive. The night is cold and clear and it smells like winter. He marvels at the blue-black sky, inky and full, the weight of the world seeming to hang just above him. His car starts up smoothly, and he rolls down the windows just a bit despite the cold, letting the sweet night air blow into the car, making him chilly. 

He pretends like he doesn’t know exactly where he’s going, pretends he’s just driving for the sake of getting out of the house. Maybe he’ll stop and get ice cream or a coffee or even a beer, maybe, at least that’s what he tells himself.

He’s not surprised, however, when he finds himself pulling up outside Taron’s, walking boldly to the door, and knocking. His knuckles are sharp on the door, and he feels like he’s never heard anything louder than this sound as it rings out into the night. 

There’s a long moment and T doesn’t come to the door. Richard considers just leaving, hanging his head and tripping back down the sidewalk. He wrestles with his brain for another moment, and is just about to turn around and leave when he sees the doorknob turn. 

And then Taron is standing there, and it’s like a punch to Richard’s gut, just seeing him. He’s wearing a pair of plaid pajama pants and a tight white t-shirt, and he looks good, fuck, he looks good. His hair is fluffy and disheveled, and his face is slightly soft and puffy, his eyes blinking rapidly and confusedly in the bright porch light. He has been sleeping, Richard realizes, and he feels bad. 

“Rich? What the hell are you doing here?” Taron asks, his voice still thick and husky from sleep. It’s a valid question...what the hell is he doing here? 

He is unable to say anything for just a moment as he just gazes at Taron. They’re only a few feet away from each other, but it feels like miles, and the air feels electrically charged with everything that’s not being said. Richard wants to reach out and grab Taron, pull him close to his body, bury his face into the sweet spot on his neck where his skin is always the softest, tell him how much he has missed him and how he doesn’t care if they ever go on another bloody date again, he just wants him, all of him, exactly this way. 

Instead, he stands just so many feet away, his arms crossed over his chest in an effort to look casual but really just making him look uncomfortable, which he is, and then he shrugs his shoulders. 

“Well?” Taron asks, and his voice sounds slightly hysterical. “It’s 11:30 at night, what are you doing on my porch?” 

Rich is slightly shocked at hearing how late it is; he’s been so in his own head lately that time has had almost no meaning. I missed you, he wants to say. I am here because I cannot imagine my life without you in it in some way. Because I missed the sound our voices make when they’re together. Because I missed your laugh. Because I missed being near you. He can’t say these things, though; he doesn’t know why, he just knows that he can’t. So he shrugs, struggling to maintain his nonchalance, and before he knows it he blurts out “Are you hungry?” 

Taron’s eyes narrow. “You came to my house at 11:30 p.m. to ask me if I’m hungry.” The words fall out of his mouth flat, and Richard suddenly feels like the biggest fool. It is over between he and Taron, and he has been unable to accept that. He has to. 

“Yeah,” he mumbles, shifting his gaze to his feet. He hears a tiny sigh escape from Taron’s mouth. 

“Give me a minute,” Taron says, and Richard looks up just in time to see T disappear back inside. When he comes out five minutes later, he’s wearing worn-in jeans and a thick sweater; he tugs his front door closed, locks it, and looks at Rich. “Where to?” 

----------

They end up at a shitty all-night diner, the kind you see in indie movies and read about in novels with beveled edge pages. There’s only two other people inside, a pair of weary-looking old men eating limp sandwiches. There’s one waitress, bustling around behind the counter, refilling the coffee pots and wiping everything clean, and a bell rings out as Taron and Rich push the door open. They ease into a booth, their bums sliding across the cracked, faded leather. Rich runs a finger along the edge of the table, cracked formica. 

“Not exactly five-star accommodations,” Rich says with a small smile as he hands Taron a menu from the stack at the other end of the table. 

“It’s fine,” Taron says, meeting Rich’s smile with one of his own and cracking his menu open. 

The drive over had been silent, but the silence was not unwelcome or hostile. They were not trying to impress each other or mend any fences; they were simply together, as they’d been a thousand times before. 

Now the waitress bustles over and asks them if they need a moment before ordering; she is tired, and her voice suggests she’s been here for hours. They both order coffee, nothing more, and she sets down two mugs, fills them, returns with cream and sugar. 

Rich smirks as he watches Taron dump in his customary truckload of sugar, and outright laughs at the look on his face after he takes a big gulp of it. 

“Stuff’s horrid,” Taron whispers, but he is smiling still. Richard takes a drink of his own and nods hastily. It tastes burnt and bitter but he’ll always be grateful to that cup of coffee, because it breaks the ice between them, gives him enough courage to speak. 

“So what’ve you been up to the last couple of weeks?” 

Taron stirs his coffee absent-mindedly. “Not much. You?” 

“Yeah, not much.” 

“I--I’m glad you came by. I’ve missed you,” Taron says. “A lot,” he adds, under his breath. A warm feeling spreads in Richard’s stomach, his heart flutters a bit.

“Why didn’t you text, or call me?” Rich asks. 

“Why didn’t you text or call me?” Taron fires back, a steely glint in his eyes. It doesn’t upset Richard, it makes him smile even more. Taron has always been stubborn, and it’s one of the things Rich loves best about him. It can be infuriating at times when you’re begging him to just do something simple, but it also means that he’s stubborn about what he loves, too. If he’s being pig-headed, it means there’s still something there. 

“I thought I’d buggered our date up so badly that I’d ruined everything. I didn’t want to bother you. Especially after how you answered my text the morning after,” Rich says. 

“I thought you only texted me to be nice. You’re always so polite, I thought you were just doing it because you thought it was what you were supposed to do,” Taron says in the tiniest of voices, and it breaks Richard’s heart a little. He imagines Taron, sitting in his flat, thinking that his best friend, his...whatever-the-hell-they-were, was only talking to him to be polite. He impulsively reaches out and catches Taorn’s hand across the table. 

“I’d never lie to you, T. I’d never do anything disingenuous to you. You mean too much to me,” Richard says earnestly, squeezing Taron’s hand. “The truth is that I’ve missed you so much these last few weeks that it actually, physically, fucking hurts. It sounds dramatic but it’s true. I wanted nothing more than to ring you a million times. I just kept replaying our disastrous fucking date over and over in my head…” 

Taron laughs. “It really was brilliantly awful. What happened?” 

Richard passes the mug back and forth between his hands. “I don’t know, I wanted to impress you so bad. I picked the nicest restaurant and I dressed nicely. I was just so nervous, and I wanted you to like me so badly…” 

“God, Richie, I would’ve thought you knew me well enough to know that I’m impressed by you exactly the way you are,” Taron says lightly. “I mean, you’re the most talented actor I’ve ever seen. But besides that, you’re funny, and smart, and incredibly kind. You’re the kindest person I know. And the fact that I even get to know you is amazing. So, you see, you’d already done the impressing by the time we even got to the date.” 

He says all this effortlessly, as though these are things he just inherently knows and has thought about for ages. He says them as those his words are just true, as if they don’t mean everything in the world to Richard. But they do. 

“T, I...can we start over? With everything?” Rich’s cheeks flush with a hint of pink, and his hands are now laid, flat, on the chipped formica table. They are shaking, just a bit, from the nerves and a rush of love and the wholeness of it all. Taron reaches across and grips both of Richard’s hand in his. 

“Isn’t that what we’re doing?” Taron asks, a grin slipping onto his face, and Richard matches it eagerly. 

------

They leave the diner an hour later, full of bitter coffee and a slice of apple pie that they’d shared, and Taron looks up at the sky. Snow is swirling around them in great tufts, coming down in a dizzying array of white. Richard’s car is already covered in it, and their shoes, hastily selected sneakers instead of the boots that would’ve been more helpful, slip and slide through the fine white powder. The world is still, at almost 1 a.m., as the snow cascades down around them. 

“It’s beautiful,” Taron says, his voice as soft as the flakes that land in his hair. His eyes are shining with the reflection of the snow and the bright streetlamp.

Richard reaches out and pulls Taron close to him, finally nuzzles that sweet spot on T’s neck. Taron scrunches his face up and laughs a little, and the sound is like music to Rich’s ears. “Not as beautiful as you,” he whispers in Taron’s ear. Taron leans over and impulsively, madly, kisses Richard. It is insistent and present and better than anything they’ve shared together so far, somehow. It is a joining together, a reminder of why they started this in the first place, an erasure of their terrible first date. Richard smiles into it. 

“Come back to my place?” Taron asks, and Richard nods. He laces their fingers together and leads Taron to the car, towards Taron’s house, towards a future together.

[dippedanddripped]

In the brief history of street culture, Hitomi Yokoyama is one of its most prominent hidden figures. If Hiroshi Fujiwara is considered the de facto “godfather of Japanese streetwear,” Yokoyama is most definitely its godmother. A contemporary of UNDERCOVER founder Jun Takahashi and Tomoaki “NIGO” Nagao — who would go on to establish A Bathing Ape and Human Made — Yokoyama was at the forefront of Tokyo’s Ura-Harajuku movement that gave rise to Japan’s cadre of covetable brands like WTAPS, Neighborhood, Bounty Hunter, and countless others.

As a teenager growing up in Tokyo’s Yotsuya neighborhood, Yokoyama became fixated with the British punk bands she saw on TV and heard on the radio. “I was listening to The Clash, Adam & The Ants, and The Sex Pistols,” she says. “The first thing in fashion I got really excited about was Malcolm McLaren and Vivienne Westwood’s clothing I saw Johnny Rotten wearing.”

It was through seminal Japanese magazines like Takarajima that she got put onto McLaren and Westwood’s Seditionaries clothing line and SEX shop in World’s End. She also discovered “Last Orgy,” an influential Takarajima column started by Hiroshi Fujiwara. It was basically a cheat sheet of what brands, bands, and trends were about to blow up.

But Yokoyama didn’t just read about what was cool — she lived it, too, exploring Tokyo’s underground nightlife at clubs like Picasso and Nabaron, which played everything from ska, rockabilly, and reggae to the hottest bands in London at the time. The scene got her close to Jun Takahashi and future Bounty Hunter founder Hikaru Iwanaga, who played in a tribute band called the Tokyo Sex Pistols, and NIGO, who sometimes stepped in as their drummer. Yokoyama remembers how the now-icons dressed at the time, recalling Takahashi as a would-be Johnny Rotten and Iwanaga as a stand-in for Sid Vicious.

“This kind of place was more like a culture school than just a club,” she says. It’s where she learned how to dress and met like-minded people who shared the same passions, like Vivienne Westwood and punk. “It was a real life social network in the days before the internet.”

NIGO and Takahashi had met at Tokyo’s prestigious Bunka Fashion College, the same institution that produced Yohji Yamamoto and Junya Watanabe. Yokoyama worked at a hair school in the neighborhood called Ciao Bambina, which doubled as a community hub for area youth, since their parents weren’t allowed in. NIGO got his hair cut there, and Yokoyama admits she used to steal a product called Rock Gel, a hard hair gel ideal for Takahashi’s avant-garde punk hairstyles.

At the same time, Takahashi and NIGO were becoming a dynamic duo in their own right. They had taken the reins of Fujiwara’s “Last Orgy” column and brought it to Popeye magazine (the newer, younger answer to Takarajima) under the moniker “Last Orgy 2.” It was clear they had the juice now, so under Fujiwara’s mentorship they turned their platform into a first-of-its-kind retail concept: NOWHERE.

Before that store opened, Yokoyama remembers the small network of streets as a neighborhood with hidden gems interspersed throughout. There was Hitomi Okawa’s MILK, Nobuhiko Kitamura’s Hysteric Glamour, and punk boutique A Store Robot, which Yokoyama frequented. But NOWHERE began the evolution of Harajuku’s backstreets into an in-the-know shopping destination. The shop launched both Takahashi’s UNDERCOVER and NIGO’s A Bathing Ape.

“Jun started making clothes on a domestic sewing machine, making one-off items. He was a genius at an early age,” remembers Yokoyama. “Then you had NIGO, who was a massive expert on vintage clothing and had great style.”

The Ura-Harajuku scene and the brands to emerge from it would expand from a small underground community to a huge global movement, and Yokoyama would play a crucial part in that transition when she moved to London in 1993.

“My plan was to study English and go to make up school,” she explains. “One day, I was walking down the street and I met a guy called Barnzley. He recognized my Seditionaries clothes and was very curious about my UNDERCOVER clothes.”

Fate made it so that one of the first people Yokoyama met in London was one of its most well-connected people. Simon “Barnzley” Armitage is a fixture of London’s club scene and its underground subculture. As a shop guy for Vivienne Westwood and Malcolm McLaren, he took advantage of the store’s screen printer to make bootleg Chanel T-shirts before getting into deconstructing clothes. He’s donned many hats and worked on numerous projects throughout the years, including co-founding the label A Child of the Jago with Joe Corre — Westwood and McLaren’s punk progeny.

Yokoyama’s Seditionaries fit caught his eye immediately, and they connected over a shared love of clothes, music, and punk culture. Yokoyama was still looking for a room, and Barnzley actually had an opening at his flat, recently vacated by Spanish artist Luciana Martinez de la Rosa.

“I think Hitomi was quite happy to move into a flat full of cool clothes, art, and records,” recalls Barnzley. “Maybe not so happy I kept her up all night with loud music, girls, insane pop stars, and messy graffiti artists.”

Yokoyama admits she didn’t get much sleep thanks to the loud music, but describes the London she found as “like Disneyland.” With Barnzley as her cultural sherpa, she rubbed shoulders with Joe Corre, Nellee Hooper of The Wild Bunch, Paul Cook of The Sex Pistols, Primal Scream’s Bobby Gillespie, and Paul Simonon of The Clash. Many of the figures she previously only read about, that seemed worlds away in the translated pages of Japanese glossies, now became face-to-face acquaintances.

“Everybody seemed to be a pop star, artist or model,” she says. “It was nonstop ’til 4 a.m. most nights.”

In addition to putting Yokoyama on to London’s hippest clubs and clothing stores, Barnzley also introduced her to Cuts, an underground hair salon that was pretty much the city’s answer to Tokyo’s Ciao Bambina. Founded by the late James Lebon, younger brother of fashion photographer Mark Lebon, he created a template for a new breed of alternative hairdressers. Inspired by the DIY ethos of punk, Cuts was the first in a new type of independent hairdressers whose multi-ethnic aesthetic chimed with that of Ray Petri’s wabi-sabi Buffalo style.

“It was a hub for street fashion as there were shoots for i-D and The Face. It was also where you’d find out information on clubs, clothes, and all that culture,” Yokoyama says. “Working there was more like a very fashionable club than a hairdresser. It was my introduction to fashionable London.”

International Stüssy Tribe member Michael Kopelman was also a Cuts regular. In 1989, he founded Gimme 5 as a distribution company, spreading the gospel of Japanese streetwear by introducing brands like Neighborhood, UNDERCOVER, visvim, BAPE, and Hiroshi Fujiwara’s GOODENOUGH into ahead-of-the-game boutiques like Hit and Run (later renamed The Hideout). By 1995, Kopelman and Yokoyama’s mutual appreciation had grown to the point where he felt comfortable enough offering her a job. “We were both into similar things from Japan. Nobody else in London was,” he says succinctly.

With no previous background in art (and never even having worked on a computer before), Yokoyama’s strong sensibilities informed what would become Gimme 5’s aesthetic. Inspired by everything from Eames chairs, old record sleeves, and comic books, she taught herself to use programs like Illustrator, eventually designing a Gimme 5 clothing logo cribbed from Jack Kirby’s Fantastic Four comics. Her work went on to impress her friends back in Japan, leading to graphic work for UNDERCOVER, A Bathing Ape, Real Mad Hectic, and Let It Ride as well as New York brands like aNYthing.

By the mid-2000s, Yokoyama received a major profile boost when she designed a purple and maroon Air Stab for Nike’s sought-after 2006 Air-U-Breathe pack. She was inspired by the lightness of the sneaker, as well as images of rabbits and cats jumping around in her head, leading to the striking graphic on the heel she describes as “paws with eyes.” She followed it up in 2008 with a mostly gray Air Max 90 Current created under Nike’s Co-Lab program for the Beijing Olympics.

Despite her impressive pedigree, Hitomi Yokoyama’s work seems largely swept under the rug in the story of streetwear. Perhaps that’s because she’s always gone under the pseudonym “HIT.” It was a conscious decision on her part, creating an air of mystery around this cryptic, Japanese designer in the vein of a SK8THING or SKOLOCT.

“I started working with all these men’s brands and they wanted to the put the designer’s name on the shirts,” she says. “There weren’t many females around at the time, and I was worried that people from that scene would not take me seriously if they knew I was female. So with the alias HIT, I would not be discriminated against; it’s genderless.”

Yokoyama’s most prolific collabs aren’t just with products, but people. Through her friendships in Tokyo and London, she helped foster long-lasting relationships, like linking Mo Wax impresario James Lavelle and NYC graffiti writer Stash with NIGO. She also became especially close with the late, legendary stylist Judy Blame, who was the inspiration for Dior’s Fall/Winter 2020 men’s collection. Yokoyama is in the final stages of her own Judy Blame tribute, a brand called Available Nowhere that uses Blame’s archive on a series of T-shirts, jackets, shirts, and scarves.

Whatever she’s doing, Hitomi Yokoyama is eternally grateful for the chances London gave her as a wide-eyed young woman from Tokyo. She admits that if things hadn’t worked out abroad, she’d have probably moved back to Tokyo and worked at a Shinjuku sushi restaurant. Now she wants to pay that kindness forward to the next generation.

“I hope to work with artists, designers, and interesting people who might be not well-known,” she says. “I want to help young people with lots of energy learn from old people with experience.”

Words: Andy Thomas

[fatechica]

You don't need to post this on your blog or anything, I just hope you don't feel pressured to change how you write because of recent drama. I say ignore those people. If they don't like it, if they jump to ridiculous conclusions, that's their problem. Your writing is good, and the people who read it will know it's good, and the people who know you know you are good.

Anon, first of all, thank you for the kind words about my writing and thank you for giving me an out with regards to answering this publicly. I appreciate both so much and thank you so much for your kindness and consideration.

That said, I’m going to do the ill-advised thing and wade into this. Not because I desperately want to, but because there are things I need to say that I think should be part of this discussion. 

A NOTE BEFORE I BEGIN:

While I welcome honest debate about the nuances of this general topic, I will not engage in dishonest, hostile attacks. I am not afraid to turn off all anons and continue on Tumblr mostly as I have been: as someone who primarily reblogs gifsets and graphics and occasionally posts links to my fanfic. I cannot be bullied off this platform - in fact, I will not. I have been around for too long to let people hiding behind the safety of anonymity dictate to me what is and is not allowed.

It is not up to anyone here but me what my level of involvement is in this fandom and in this space and no one has the right to decide for me. Go ahead and block me from seeing your content directly if that’s what you want (if that’s even possible - I never know with Tumblr sometimes). But I exist on Tumblr for reasons other than Stranger Things (weird, I know, considering that’s all I reblog) and my self-worth isn’t tied up in this platform. So, with that said….

To start, to say that I am disappointed in what I saw today in the Stranger Things fandom is a massive understatement. Regardless of what caused this - regardless of your opinion on what is, essentially, a gray area (as in an area that not everyone agrees about the definitions of) - ganging up on and bullying people is completely unacceptable. If you can’t see why that’s wrong, then I don’t know what to tell you.

Fandom should be a space where everyone feels like they have a place. Not the same place that you have or I have. But if they want to participate in their own corner, there should be somewhere they can look at and go “yes, that is where I can be”. And this is regardless of what that might look like.

For example, I hate the Harringrove ship. Like with a passion. I think it’s incredibly disrespectful to Steve’s character and I cannot understand the leaps of logic required to turn Billy’s storyline into something worth redeeming. I think it’s also incredibly exploitative of gay relationships and it squicks me out to no end.

Does that mean, however, that I don’t want people who do ship them to have somewhere to go? Of course not! People have a right to engage in a piece of fiction however they choose (because, at the end of the day, it’s fiction and the characters on the page literally aren’t physically harmed). And it’s not up to me to say what isn’t allowed.

But, conversely, I don’t have to see it if I don’t want to. No one can force me to read Harringrove fic or engage in Harringrove posts on tumblr. But, here’s the thing: I’m responsible for curating my own fandom experience. Which is why I filter out the Harringrove tag on AO3 and block the Harringrove tag on Tumblr.

I would never, however, go the Harringrove tag or find a popular Harringrove blog and harass them. Even if I think it’s wrong. Even if I think their ship is exploitative. I would never try to drive people out of a fandom because their experience doesn’t mirror mine, because they get enjoyment out of something differently than I do.

But, that’s about a ship portrayed by actors who are of age. Which is where the very gray area in what happened today comes into play.

I think we can all reasonably agree (even though I know there’s some people who won’t) that explicit material about characters portrayed by underage actors is wrong. And, when I say explicit, I mean play-by-play, detailed descriptions of sexual acts.

Some people will disagree with me. That’s fine. I literally cannot stop anyone from having their own opinion about fictional characters.

(I know some people will argue that it’s different when they’re aged up and they’re imagining different people as older versions of the characters, but that’s between you and your conscience. And, like with Harringrove, I just don’t wanna read it at all. Nor do I want to write it.)

But there is a massive difference between writing about exploring healthy, emotional intimacy (which often includes suggestions of physical intimacy since a lot of, though not all, relationships are made up of both) and writing smut meant to titillate.

The first is character-driven, diving in and showing how people form healthy relationships. The second is just exploitative.

The first is about coming-of-age when you’re in love and you don’t know how to handle everything and you’re figuring it out as you go. The second is about shock and arousal.

The first is about balancing the emotional and the physical, about trust and respect and love, about how it feels to be head-over-heels in love with someone; it’s about how we grow and mature and set healthy boundaries. The second is about pornography and that’s it.

The first sometimes includes hints of sensuality and suggestions of more. The second is only��about the physical and nothing else.

(And, yes, I’m aware there is a whole sub-genre of “Porn with Feelings”, but this fandom has not really embraced that as a sub-genre so it’s not worth mentioning.)

Now, like I said, we can all pretty much agree that the second one is wrong. 

But the first one? That’s up to your comfort level. It’s up to you to decide where that line is.

You don’t want to read fiction about older teenagers navigating relationships, which often includes dealing with their own sexuality? Well, then, the back button is your friend.

You think anyone who suggests that something physical happens between teenagers means that the author is imagining those very teenagers having sex? Well, then, that’s you projecting onto that author. You don’t know what went through that author’s head when they wrote it.

If you think that everyone who writes anything or suggests anything intimate about characters who are played by underage actors are immediately imagining those characters played by those actors having sex, then you are no better than the people you’re accusing of imagining that very thing. Because guess what?

Now you’re imagining it, too.

I have to say, it takes a lot of nerve to go into someone’s writing and tell that author what they were thinking when they wrote it. I know once a piece of fiction is released into the world, the author loses the ability to control how it’s interpreted, but authorial intent IS A REAL FUCKING THING and NO ONE is allowed to dictate to an author what he or she was thinking when they wrote it.

Because unless you’re a mind reader, you have no goddamn clue what that author was thinking. And if you get offended by what you’re reading then, like I said, the back button is your friend.

Which brings me to the final thing I want to say at the end of this very long essay: we have got to stop gatekeeping in this fandom.

Believe me when I say that gatekeeping and purity trolling in all forms has led to the downfall of many fandoms and fandom communities (see: ALL OF LIVEJOURNAL). I’ve been there - I’ve watched it happen. There is literally no better way to stifle creativity and fandom growth by dictating what is and is not allowed in harsh, black and white terms.

So, if we want to have a healthy fandom where open discourse is allowed, where people can share their interpretations of the characters and explore what must be going through their heads as real people growing up might be experiencing, if we want to make this a place where people feel included for years to come, if we want to have a space where people can create and post and share, WE NEED TO STOP DOING THIS.

Learn to agree to disagree. Learn that some people have different boundaries of acceptable and appropriate than you. Learn that most people do not approach sensitive topics from a place of exploitation and titillation.

I’ve long been concerned that we aren’t mature enough as a fandom to handle nuanced discussions like the one that didn’t happen today.

To be perfectly honest, I don’t have a lot of hope for this fandom if things continue on the way they are. And, though I’m not going anywhere for the time being, I hope that I’m proven wrong. I hope we can learn the difference between inappropriate and uncomfortable; I hope we can learn how to have nuanced, respectful discussions where we disagree and separate to our own corners to experience fandom how we want to experience fandom.

I hope that we can figure out how to grow up as a community.

But absolutely nothing I saw today tells me we’ll be able to do that.

[umbralich]

Never ending survey

RULES: Repost, do not reblog. Tag 10 blogs!

Tagged by: @lareine-kira and @paleshadeofrose

Tagging: @hangedemperor , @istolin , @maximiloix , @trahja-tia , @eorzeasfrozenknight , @charm-in-spades , @thorcatte , @haila-wetyios , @a-sharlayan-abroad

---

BASICS.

FULL NAME: Varg Blacksoul, formerly Timur Oronir NICKNAME: Varg-Varg (given by Lareine), Stiffy and Grumpy (given by Silke) AGE:  54 BIRTHDAY:  9th sun of the 1st astral moon ETHNIC GROUP: Xaela Au Ra NATIONALITY: Othard, Ishgard LANGUAGE/S: Common, xaelic, ishgardian SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Demisexual ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: Biromantic RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Single and not looking for company. HOME TOWN / AREA:  Dawn Throne, Azim Steppe CURRENT HOME:  Pillars, Ishgard PROFESSION: Paladin, medic/healer at Ishgard’s service.

PHYSICAL.

HAIR: Long and silvery grey. EYES: Black with white limbal rings, small irises. FACE: Angular features, long nose, high cheekbones. LIPS: Narrow, often cracked, slightly darker than his usual skin color. COMPLEXION: Grayish purple BLEMISHES: Dark circles SCARS: Lots of scars which he keeps hidden at all times. Two thick, long ones are visible and almost go across his right eye. TATTOOS: No tattoos. HEIGHT:  210cm WEIGHT: Slightly underweight BUILD: Slender but masculine, somewhat toned. FEATURES: Black markings around eyes, and naturally thick, black claws. ALLERGIES: None USUAL HAIR STYLE: At work or formal meetings it’s combed back either completely or with some locks on his temples left loose. In more casual situations he mostly just lets it be. USUAL FACE LOOK: Calm, focused, narrowed eyes. USUAL CLOTHING:  Full, dignified heavy armor or parts of it combined with a long coat, formal robes, jodhpurs, vests, blouses and high-heeled boots.

PSYCHOLOGY.

FEAR/S: Imprisonment, being held or tied down, physical pain, betrayal. ASPIRATION/S: To be successful, self-sufficient and powerful until the end, to bring as many as possible wrongdoers to justice, to find an heir, and catch people still on the loose who managed to escape his revenge long ago.

POSITIVE TRAITS: He keeps his word, doesn’t leave things unfinished, is a good motivator for slackers, aims for high-quality results in everything, is reasonable and logical.

NEGATIVE TRAITS: Insensible towards most of people, logic always comes before his own or other people’s feelings, very straightforward, capable of cruelty if necessary.

TEMPERAMENT: Calm SOUL TYPE/S: Thinker ANIMALS: Gray wolf

VICE HABIT/S: Smoking. He hates it, but it’s the least harmful thing that calms his nerves down, and he’s addicted. He tries to limit it though, and use it only in worst occasions, since he doesn’t want the side effects affecting his health or work. If things get especially grim, he also has full stashes of potent liquor and intravenous sedatives.

FAITH: Science usually comes first, but he’s also spiritual in some way. It’s one of those topics he doesn’t discuss with anyone. Some of his duties include working as a cleric, so it may have something to do with Halone. Or then it doesn’t, and it’s just another job.

GHOSTS?: Has seen them with his own eyes so can’t deny their existence. AFTERLIFE?: He hopes it exists, for reasons. REINCARNATION?: It’s a possibility.

POLITICAL ALIGNMENT: Generally neutral, but on demand would choose the side of underdogs: ignoble, the poor and the sick, minors etc. Wouldn’t show his alignment publicly if it was a threat to himself. Would also pretend to be supporting the oppressor, only trying to sabotage their work at every opportunity. Even I’m not sure would he actually die for anyone else or some common cause. He has fled once to save his own hide and he could do it again. Knows main points of what’s going on and where around the world for the sake of common knowledge, but is only interested in topics that concern himself. Has been a target for racists since arriving to Ishgard as a teenager, so he despises them from the bottom of his heart.

EDUCATION LEVEL: Learned

FAMILY.

FATHER : Not relevant MOTHER :  Not relevant SIBLINGS : None that he knows of EXTENDED FAMILY: Iris Ymir (patient and protege) and Arsene Dreadeois (butler)

NAME MEANING/S:

Timur is a Turkic and Mongolic name which literally means iron. In Indonesian, timur translates to east and symbolizes hope by the rising sun.

All members of the Oronir tribe believe themselves to be direct descendants of Azim, the tribe's god of the sun.

Varg is wolf in swedish. Varg was also originally a nickname given by his friends at the Steppe. It was the only thing he kept after starting his new life in Ishgard and severing his ties with his homeland.

Blacksoul was given by his comrades in the army for being so ruthless towards enemies - both the ones on the battlefield and the ones captured.

HISTORICAL CONNECTION?: None

FAVORITES.

BOOK:  Science, mythology, swordplay, alchemy, etc. Everything that has something to do with his work or hobbies. DEITY: Halone seems to share most of his values. HOLIDAY: Doesn’t celebrate any. MONTH: September and October. There isn’t many little things in life he gets pleasure from, but fall colors is one of them. SEASON: Fall and winter. PLACE: His estate, cathedrals, libraries and forges. WEATHER: Thick fog, rain and sunshine at the same time. SOUND/S: Fire, rain and musical instruments when someone who actually knows what they’re doing plays them. SCENT/S: Herbs, iron, parchment. TASTE/S:  Whisky, tea, whatever Arsene makes. FEEL/S:  Clean clothes, heat radiating from a fireplace. ANIMAL/S:  Doesn’t like animals except for his chocobo, Mori. NUMBER: Doesn’t care about numbers. COLORS: White, black, blood red, gold, silver.

EXTRA.

TALENTS: Accuracy of a chirurgeon, skillful with swords, managing to define a goal fast in any kind of surprising situation and being very patient and stubborn at achieving it.  BAD AT: Admitting he has weaknesses, comforting people, having fun, small talk, relaxing. HOBBIES: Reading, studying, weapon maintenance, alchemy. TROPES: Antihero, tragic hero and mad scientist. Definitely could also be a villain. Depends on whom you ask.

QUOTES:

“Since you seem to be so worried of my… customers, perhaps I should take you along the next time I interrogate them. You would see with your own eyes what kind of delicate, exquisite and misunderstood individuals they are, when they spit on you, mock their victims and brag about the amount of people they have raped or murdered.”

“Today it happens. Make sure she is out of here before I return tonight. I am no longer even sure which one of them is the worse one.”

“It was a mere procedure. If procedures were considered intimate, I would be close friends with half of Ishgard by now.”

“Do tell me... If you work as much as you claim, how come you are always broke when we meet?”

“Very well. Play something for me. Let us see are you a man of your word.”

MUN QUESTIONS.

Q1 :  If you could write your character your way in their own movie, what would it be called, what style would it be filmed in, and what would it be about?          

A1 :  He’s been busy sticking his spoon into so many soups during his life that you could probably make a trilogy of his fooleries feats. The first part would tell about his early life in Azim Steppe and how he was forced to leave from there, the second part about how he found his soulmate and adapted to his new life in Ishgard, and how it all eventually ended up into a shitstorm, and the third one would be the current storyline. No clue about the name, though. The Soulforge would be perfect but too bad it’s taken.

Q2 :  What would their soundtrack/score sound like?          

A2 : Bloodborne, Dark Souls and Amnesia the Dark Descent OSTs are absolutely the closest ones you could get to Varg. Orchestral, choir, bowed string instruments, both epic and monstrous. Even if there were more peaceful pieces here and there, while listening to them you’d still have that same feeling of dread you used to have while playing the original Resident Evil and Silent Hill games and finding a safe room: you just barely escaped death but can’t stay in the safe haven forever.

Q3 : Why did you start writing this character?          

A3 : He’s quite different compared to my Forsaken shadow priestess in WoW, whom I used to RP for... two or three years? Long story short: I wanted something else for a change. I also used to have an old Forsaken death knight, who was a lot more similar to Varg, but he was more evil. He existed pretty much only for occasions when someone needed a true villain for some plot. He was funny however and I always thought it was a pity I didn’t get chances to RP him more often.

Q4 : What first attracted you to this character?          

A4 : He’s a mixture of four different OCs of mine, with a bit of his original spice ofc. One of them came into being in, uh, somewhat obscure conditions. Kept seeing him in my dreams when I was a kid, and he became one of my imaginary friends I used to have back then. And not just one of the many, but the closest one. Also generally in entertainment I couldn’t care less about Lukes and Frodos. Villains, tragic heroes and the like are my thing. They’re usually the most multilayered and interesting characters.

Q5 : Describe the biggest thing you dislike about your muse.

A5 : Perfectionism. I’m similar and it sometimes drives me nuts to watch him neglecting himself while trying to achieve perfection. If I could physically talk to him I would go and slap him and be like “EAT. SLEEP. YES THE THING IS GOOD ENOUGH ALREADY. LEAVE IT.”

Q6 :  What do you have in common with your muse?          

A6 :  Well, already kind of answered this one, but wait, there’s more: insomnia, nightmares, PTSD, misanthropy and cynicism come to mind first. And booze. How could I almost forget booze? I believe I know what misery is so I’m good at RPing miserable characters and make them look as authentic as possible. *lols like Alcyone from Magic Knight Rayearth* We both also have a strong sense of justice and nonexistent sympathy for those who use others as stepping stones. Aye I know, sounds a lot like a self-insert character, but it’s not like that. It’s more like... before meeting him/the OCs he’s based on, I used to be quite a scentless and tasteless kid. Similarities and peer support attract. And I’ve also learned from him.

It’s also a lot like me and Lareine. We became friends because we had 95% of the same interests and problems but perhaps that’s why we get along so well and understand each other.

Q7 :  How does  your muse feel about  you?          

A7 :  He would probably hate and like me at the same time. Or couldn’t decide. We both like peace and quiet, doing our job well is fundamental and our basic values are pretty much the same. We would get along well if we worked in the same place. However, unlike him, I have some horrid procrastination seasons, crippling self-esteem issues, tend to put other people’s needs and opinions above my own and keep stressing about things for 7 billion souls instead of just myself. I’m suspicious of pretty much everything else except Lareine and our plushie crow Agatha, except that Agatha creeps me out sometimes as well when she takes out a knife and sits next to my bed at night, staring at me, can’t watch Hachiko without bawling my eyes out during the entire movie, love puppies and kittens and danger noodles and I’m addicted to video games. Very likely he’d kick me out as well.

Q8 :  What characters does your muse have interesting interactions with?        

A8 : Varg would never admit it to himself, but I think he gets best along with people who are a bit silly in some way, and who get on his nerves by being too carefree and doing stupid things. Lareine and Iris, when they’re behaving. Arsene, who’s kind at everyone. Currently Shaura is my favorite. Varg himself is so uptight people like them help breaking his gray routines. Also a bonus: he doesn’t see them as a threat, so that’s probably the closest he’s able to get to relaxing among other people.

Q9 :  What gives you inspiration to write your muse?        

A9 : I’m a fan of my own characters. It doesn’t feel like I would’ve created them. I saw them with my third eye or something and I’ve just written for others to read what I’ve seen. I don’t plan RPs beforehand. I just let the hound loose and let him do whatever he wants. So far I haven’t got tired of my characters’ antics and could just write more. The only obstacles are limited hours per day, necessary evils like eating and sleeping, procrastination, trying to sort out my life, and the damn FFXIV. SOMEONE PLEASE TAKE IT OUT OF MY HANDS.

Q10 : How long did this take you to complete?          

A10 : Ehh, maybe 4-5 hours.

[bennwriting]

Cat and Mouse

Fallout: Part 2 of 2 (for now) This is supposed to be part of a larger work, but these two chapters are all I don't hate so far.

When I woke up, he had pulled the sheet up over us and moved his head up to his pillow, but he was mostly in the same position. Arm still around me, though I’d rolled onto my side. I watched him sleep for a little while, peaceful and relaxed. 

I had no idea what time it was, but the soft light peeking through the blinds suggested either dusk or dawn. Either way, I was hungry. We’d skipped dinner in favor of getting naked and then sleeping it off. So I carefully eased out from under his arm, cleaned myself up a little in his bathroom, stole a t-shirt from one of his drawers, and went to figure out whether I was making dinner or breakfast.

Dinner, as it turned out. It had only been a couple of hours since we fell asleep. I rummaged through his kitchen for what I could put together and got to work. 

I was just about to go wake him when he shuffled into the kitchen, sleepy-eyed and adorable, hair going in every direction, in just a pair of shorts. 

“I smell food. What time is it?”

“8:15. I was starving. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Of course not. You know what’s mine is yours. Whatcha makin?”

“I baked those pork chops you had in the fridge and made some pasta. You wanna throw a salad together?”

“Perfect. I’ll grab some wine too.”

“Oh fancy!”

He just laughed and went off to find a bottle before coming back to make the salad. Before we sat down at the bar to eat, he wrapped me up in a big hug. 

“Thank you. For dinner. And everything.”

“You’re so, so welcome.” I smiled up at him. 

He kissed my forehead and let me go, and we enjoyed a quiet, relaxed dinner together. After we cleaned up the kitchen, Jamie smiled bashfully at me. 

“I was thinking of getting in the hot tub. What do you think?”

“I think I didn’t bring my suit.”

“Oh. Um. You could go in in that … or go without? No one will see but me.”

I smiled at him. “Jamie Benn. Are you suggesting we go skinny dipping in your back yard?”

“Well. I was suggesting you could. But yeah, if it makes you feel better about it, I could too.”

“Ok I will. And you can if you want. Up to you.”

“I will. It’ll be fun. Look at me, having fun.” He plastered the most ridiculous, hilarious, fake-beyond-belief smile on his face, and I lost it. Which was apparently the desired effect because it was followed by a genuine, open-mouthed, tongue-out, dimpled laugh. 

When we’d stopped cracking up, he grabbed my hand and led me out to the hot tub, then left me to undress while he turned on the lights and jets. When he turned back around, I was still standing there watching him. 

“Change your mind?”

“No I just … was waiting for you I guess.”

“Well I was trying to give you a head start,” he smiled. “All I’ve got is shorts.”

“Can you um, go first?”

“What are you shy all of a sudden?”

I looked down at my feet. 

“Heyyy hey no, I was kidding.” He wrapped me up in a hug. ”Mouse, I’m the shy one around here. Quit trying to steal my thing.”

I giggled into his chest. “I could never.”

Bunching up the back of the shirt, he looked into my eyes. “Can I?” 

I nodded and lifted my arms as he pulled it over my head and tossed it on a chair. 

“There, we’re even now. You good?” 

I laughed. “Yeah, I’m good.”

We finished undressing together and giggled like teenagers as we stepped into the hot tub and sank into the water.

I sighed. “Ok yeah that feels really good.”

“Yeah it does.”

I still felt more exposed than him. Tried scooting further down into the water, not comfortable. Crossed my arms over my chest, felt awkward. Jamie must’ve noticed the squirming. 

“Hey Mouse? Come sit by me?”

I smiled and moved over to his side of the hot tub. He pulled me up against his side, rested his arm behind me, hand on my shoulder, kissed my temple. I looked up, smiling, and he turned toward me. One thumb traced the daisy chain tattoo up my arm and over my shoulder. 

“Have I mentioned how much I love this?”

“The tat or the skinny dipping?”

A smile. “Both.” Lips touched mine — so, so softly until I reached up to pull him closer. A deeper kiss, my legs draped over his lap. Hand drifting up the outside of my thigh, tugging at my hip, running up my spine to the base of my skull. 

Emotional and intense but soft. Two people who never expected this, both hyper-aware of their own issues but willing to just go with the moment. 

When we finally stopped — hours later? no concept of time — I was totally relaxed. We rested our foreheads together for a moment, both smiling, then I scooted further into his lap and nestled into his chest. He leaned back against the side of the hot tub but kept his arms around me, one hand on my thigh and one rubbing softly on my back. We were quiet for a bit, both enjoying the closeness. 

“This is what I miss the most about being in a relationship,” I sighed. “Shit, sorry, didn’t mean to bring that up.”

“It’s ok,” he said softly. “I miss this too. A lot. Fuck, you know what? I haven’t been in a real relationship in like two years. We were just friends who used to be together that still texted and fucked occasionally.”

“Ouch. I mean, neither have I, but we had the sense to officially end it two years ago.”

“We probably should have. It was doomed the minute she moved to LA.”

“Would you if you had it to do over?”

Heavy sigh. “Probably not. That probably makes me an idiot.”

“No, it makes you loyal and in love. Maybe a little hopelessly so, but not an idiot. Would it have hurt less if you’d ended it then?”

“I don’t know. Maybe? We’d have done less damage to each other. But we wouldn’t know whether we gave up on something that could’ve worked. I’d probably always wonder.”

“Well then maybe this is how it needed to go down. You can make a clean break now.”

“Yeah. Shit, I still don’t want it to be over. Even after everything that happened. But I can’t do the long distance thing anymore. It’s too hard.”

“So what do you miss the most?”

“God, she made me laugh. She’s crazy. She dragged me out to so much stupid shit. But I had fun. Even at fucking Disneyland, my nightmare. We still had fun.”

“I could not believe she got you on that ferris wheel.”

“Me neither. Pretty sure I almost died.”

“Oh lord, you’re so dramatic.”

“I swear to god my heart stopped.”

“Such a baby.”

“Yup. Sure am. Mum’s baby.”

I giggled. “That too.”

“So what really happened with you and Kevin? Did he not want to move to Colorado?”

“No, I um, kinda moved to Colorado to get away from him.”

“You what? Did he hurt you? Do I need to beat his ass?”

“Noooo no no nothing like that. I just thought it would be easier. If we didn’t see each other. Like at friends’ parties or the grocery store or whatever. I think I … really hurt him. When I broke it off.”

“Oh. Why did you break it off then?”

“It … wasn’t fair to him. That I didn’t want to, y’know.”

“Ohhhh. So wait, you never had sex? You were together like two years.”

“Two years and one day, actually. And yes, we had sex. But I um, didn’t …”

He waited for me to finish the thought, and when I didn’t, he kissed my head and hugged me. 

“It’s ok. We can change the subject if you want.”

I took a deep breath. “No, I don’t mind. You wanted me to explain more anyway. That’s as good a place to start as any.”

“Do you wanna go inside? Would that be more comfortable?”

“Actually, no, this is good. I like the … contact. As long as I’m not cutting off the circulation to your legs.”

“No, you’re perfect. Featherweight,” he laughed. “And I’m enjoying this. Holding you. Feels good.”

“Yeah it does. So … yes, Kevin and I had sex. Although not until we’d been together like six months. I uhh … never really wanted to. It’s not that he was bad at it. He did all the right things. I just wasn’t into it. Which was completely unfair to him. So I broke it off.”

“Did he know? That you’re … what did you call it again?”

“Gray-a? Yeah, but he didn’t really get it. Which is understandable. It doesn’t necessarily make sense if you don’t feel it yourself. We did talk about it though. And he really did try to understand. But he thought he could fix it.”

“So it’s not something you can fix, right? Like it’s just who you are?”

“Exactly. It’s like being gay. It’s not a disease like depression, and it’s not a hormone imbalance. Sometimes it does feel like I’m broken. But there’s not a cause. And it’s not all bad. It just … complicates things.”

“Ok so explain again what it means. Like I’m 12 years old.”

I laughed. “Ok. I’m gonna oversimplify the crap out of this or you're gonna be even more confused and probably bored senseless. Like 1% of the population identifies as asexual, which means we don’t experience sexual attraction. So say a really hot chick walks by, totally your type. Your body reacts. Your brain reacts. You get that I’d-hit-that feeling. Aces don’t experience that.”

“Never? For anyone?”

“Well, straight-up asexual people don’t, no. This is where it gets complicated. So there’s a huge spectrum of asexuality. Straight-up aces don’t experience any kind of sexual attraction. But there’s a massive gray area between that and normal sexuality.”

“Which is where you are. So gray-a.”

“Yup. In my case, I only feel it with someone I really care about, and I need a trigger of some kind. Like cheering you up today. It’s a physical reaction to emotion, I guess is the best way to put it.”

“That’s … a really limited set of circumstances.”

“Yeah. It is. And my life would be so much simpler if I worked the way you do. But here I am.”

“So next week, you probably won’t feel the same way?” 

“Oh maybe still next week. It’s lasted longer than that before. But next year? Probably not.”

“Ok I can’t really wrap my brain around that. But I get that it’s not something you can change. Sorry it complicates your life.”

“Yeah me too. But I’m used to it. It’s better now that I know I’m not a freak. Well, not the only freak.”

“I don’t think you’re a freak.” He hugged me close, and I hugged him back. 

“Thanks, Jame.”

“So did you ever feel it for Kevin or were you just …”

“Going through the motions? Yeah, pretty much. I mean I thought he was good looking. And I did love him. But it never translated to wanting to rip his clothes off.”

He smirked. “You wanted to rip my clothes off?”

“Not literally, ya shit. But I damn sure did wanna get you naked. And by the way, I’m a little pissed at you for never sharing that panther tat. It’s gorgeous.”

“Thank you. But it’s like your mouse. It’s … private. For me. I like sharing it with you now though. Thank you for sharing this with me.” 

He softly touched the mouse on my ribs, then let his hand drift up to cup my breast as he pulled me into a kiss. 

He ran his hand over my body, everywhere he could reach. Looked quietly, earnestly into my eyes. “Thank you for sharing all of this with me. It means a lot.”

“To me too.” 

“You good to stay out here a while longer?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.”

He pulled me against his chest and kissed the top of my head. We were quiet for a long time, enjoying the feeling of being in each other’s arms and the warm water swirling around us. Occasionally one of us would trail fingertips across the other’s body, press lips to skin, breathe in the other’s scent. But mostly we were just still and content. 

Jamie, ever the worrier, was the first to speak. “So what happens after tonight?”

“What, between us?”

“Yeah.”

“What do you want to happen?”

“I don’t know, honestly.”

“Well, we’re still friends, of course.”

“Obviously.”

“We don’t need to be more if you don’t want.”

A long pause. “What if I want?”

“Do you?”

“I don’t know. Maybe?”

“I’m happy to do more of this if that’s what you need.”

“What about you? What do you need?”

“You to be honest with me. You’re obviously not ready to start a new relationship.”

“No. Definitely not. But I already have a relationship with you. Can we just add the other part into that?”

“What, friends with benefits?”

“I hate that phrase, but yeah, something like that, I guess.”

“You know I can’t promise my um, physical reaction will continue.”

“I know. But if it does?”

I sat back so I could look him in the eyes. 

“We need to set some ground rules.”

“Yeah, sure, definitely. I’m obviously not in a great place right now, and the last thing I want to do is hurt you or fuck up our friendship.”

“Ok.” I thought for a bit. “First things first. I’m not your toy to be used when you have needs and then put back in a box. If you need me, you ask, and if I’m up for it, we go. But if I’m not, you can’t get pissy about it. I want to still be friends like we were before, not just fuck buddies. Ok?”

“Absolutely. I don’t want to ever just use you. If I wanted that, I’d find some puck bunny to fuck. I’m not entitled to your body or your friendship. I’ve gotta be worthy of both.”

“The same goes for me. I’m not going to use you either. I won’t ever ask for anything you’re not ready for. You don’t need to take me to fancy dinners or buy me things. We’re not dating. There’s no pressure.”

“I do want to take you to nice dinners, but only because I like good food and I like your company, not because I’m trying to impress you.”

I laughed. “Ok, fair enough. But let me pay once in a while.”

“You can buy at the places that aren’t stupid expensive. I’m not letting you pick up the check at Nobu.”

I smiled. “I can deal with that. That place is way too rich for my blood.”

“It’s so good though.”

“I should hope so!”

“We’ll go soon.”

“Ok.”

“Anything else?”

“When you’re ready to move on, you tell me. I don’t wanna get in the way of your future.”

“You’ll be the first to know. Fuck, you’ll probably know before I do.”

We both laughed. It was so true. 

“Ok. I think that’s about it.”

“Yeah.” Big, sincere eyes searched my face for doubts. “Mouse, if you ever don’t want me, tell me. I won’t take it personally, I promise. And if I’m stupid and an ass about it, smack me. Don’t ever do anything you’re not 100% into just because it’s what I want. What you want is just as important.”

“Deal.” It came out more breathless than I intended. 

Soft lips on mine, gentle and sweet, and soft hands moving up my shoulders to cradle my face. When we’d had our fill, we rested our foreheads together with soft smiles. 

“Getting sleepy, Chubbs. Bed?”

“Mmm, yeah, bed sounds good.”

As I followed him out of the hot tub, I got an up-close view of his ass, and I tripped on the last step. I gracelessly – barely – caught myself before I face-planted on the pool deck, but it was too late for my dignity as he spun around and saw me stumble. 

“Oh my god, are you ok? I’m so sorry, I should’ve helped you out.”

“No, it’s fine, I’m fine, just uhh, clumsy. Not your fault.” Totally your fault, I thought. Your ass’s fault. Jesus Christ, put a warning label on that thing. I couldn’t look him in the face, but I was having trouble finding an appropriate alternative. Everywhere I looked made me blush harder. 

“Mouse? Are you sure you’re ok?” I could hear the smile in his voice, damn him. “You’re awfully pink.”

“Hot tub. Hot water, right?” I stammered as I picked up my clothes, trying not to get them too wet. “Plus I just almost ate concrete, so that’s embarrassing.”

“Ok, c’mon, let's get you inside and make sure you didn’t hurt yourself.”

A towel seemed to wrap itself around my body, and a hand at the small of my back — ready to catch me? push me? — somehow made me feel comforted and uncomfortable at the same time. But I let him guide me through the patio doors into his bathroom, which oddly was the first time I noticed he had wrapped a towel around his waist as well. It sat low on his hips, and if I thought his bare ass was distracting …

“Mouse? You there? Earth to Mollie.”

“Hmm? What?”

“I said let’s have a shower and rinse off the pool water before bed, eh?”

“Oh, right, yeah, good idea.”

“Hey,” soft hands again, lifting my chin to an even softer voice, “are you sure you’re ok? Didn’t hit your head, did you?” Gentle fingers pushed my hair away from my face, concerned eyes looked me over for any visible damage. 

“No, no I caught myself.”

“Ok so what’s wrong? You’re spacing out on me. Did I do something?”

“No … well yes, but …”

“Oh god, what did I do?

“Nothing bad! I just, um, you, uh …” I could feel the blood rushing to my face. 

“Whatever it is, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

“No, don’t be sorry, it’s fine, it’s nothing. Oh my god, just say it, Mollie, Jesus Christ. I came face to face with your ass stepping out of the hot tub and promptly forgot how to walk, ok? That thing should be registered as a lethal weapon. It almost killed me.”

Now it was his turn to blush scarlet — and then try really hard to stifle the belly laugh that followed. 

“Sorry,” he wheezed Canadianly between giggles, “I swear I’m not laughing at you.”

“You’re a terrible liar, Jamie,” I deadpanned before bursting into giggles of my own. “Shut up! It’s the first good look I’ve gotten at that thing. It’s very distracting! You’re very distracting.” I poked at his abs, which were still tensed with laughter, and hooked my finger into the front of his towel. “This whole look is very, very … distracting.” I trailed off — distractedly — and ran my other hand up his chest, letting my own towel fall while I tugged at his. 

His giggles quickly subsided, and he stepped into me, hands running up my sides, smiling when I dropped his towel on the floor. 

“Looks like you’ve got me naked again. What are you gonna do with me?”

“Mmmmmmmmmmmmm wash you,” I giggled and walked over to turn on the water, leaving him cracking up in the middle of the bathroom. 

When I stepped into the shower, he joined me, still chuckling softly, and wrapped his arms around me from behind. 

“You always keep me on my toes.”

“I just needed to hear that laugh.”

“Me too. Thanks.”

I turned around in his arms and looked up into his sweet, smiling face, and I couldn’t resist reaching up to run a hand over one dimpled cheek. He looked so much lighter than he had when I got there. Not cured by any means but definitely not as lost. 

“This smile looks good on you.”

This blush was soft. “You put it there.”

I smiled back and pulled him down into a tender kiss, which he deepened. Not a steamy, sexy kiss, but one full of feeling. 

We washed — ourselves and each other — and headed to bed, where he spooned up behind me and kissed my cheek. 

“Good night, Mouse.”

“Good night, Chubbs.”

We’d worry about the fallout later.

—

daisy chain tat

mouse tat

[ilovemygaydad]

part 3/? of punk!patton gets adopted by single parent logan

part one - part two - part four - part five - ao3 version - masterlist (includes asks)

pairings: one-sided pining moxiety, eventual logince, background pining remceit, mentions of past thomas/female oc

warnings: swearing, lots of emotions, anxiety, worry, sympathetic deceit (his name is DC), jealousy, sadness, one-sided pining, rivalry mentions, depression mentions, divorce mentions, being held back a grade, arguments, anger, crying, unhealthy coping mechanisms, embarrassment, like some angst (sorry buds but emotionally closed off patton is an angst fest), food mentions, possibly something else

***feel free to send me questions or comments! i’ll answer them to the best of my ability, and everything is tagged under “punk!patton au”

a/n: this one is.... so long

(a clarification: logan and patton aren’t really father and son--they’re more like legal guardian and child. neither of them were looking for a father/son relationship, so they agreed that it wasn’t for them. i just didn’t clarify)

a few weeks had passed since the whole clothes incident, and patton and virgil had actually become real friends

which was why patton was unnerved when virgil’s foot wouldn’t stop tapping in their first block class

patton scribbled out a quick “you okay?” on a piece loose leaf paper and nudged virgil’s leg to get his attention and passed over the note

a few moments later, the paper is passed back to patton, and virgil’s neat writing reads “yeah, just nervous”

“about what?”

“well... i was going to ask you if you wanted to join my family for our twice-monthly disney marathon on saturday. dad’s college friend comes with his son, dc. he’s a senior. everyone wears onesies, and we just chill and watch cartoons for the night. you don’t have to come if you don’t want, but i thought you might enjoy it.”

and patton’s like

oh

okay

this is... a thing

so he writes back, “sure. i think dc is in my photography class?”

and virgil passes the note back one last time, but the timing went poorly, and the teacher sees

she’s like “mr sanders. mr summers. are you passing notes?”

and patton rolls his eyes as he takes the paper and clips it into his binder “no, ms w. virgil thought that he’d missed some of the notes yesterday by accident, so i gave him my sheet so he could double check.”

and the teacher is like ,,,,,,, fine and goes back to teaching, but virgil looks over at patton and gives him this small, thankful smile

and if patton has some weird, fluttery feelings about it, then that’s fine

even though he doesn’t

(the note says “7pm--last house on zora lane downtown. you’ll know the one ;)” and patton finds it really cute)

so saturday rolls around, and patton picks out some pajamas to go in because he doesn’t have a onesie

logan had offered to buy him a onesie, but patton looked up one that he thought he might like, and it was nearly forty dollars. he refused to let logan spend so much money on something so stupid

he settles on a black muscle tank and black jogger sweats because there’s no way he’s going to break his aesthetic for a disney marathon

he does wear his glasses, though, because he doesn’t want to deal with the hassle of taking out his contacts before going to sleep and then putting them back in before anyone wakes back up, and he’s too blind to just go without

and he hates how the huge, square frames look on his face, and the lenses are so damn thick

but he wears them anyway because he has to

logan drives him to virgil’s house and it definitely wasn’t because logan was hoping to catch a glimpse of virgil’s dad what???

virgil was right--his house was so easy to find. it had a ranbow flag flying by the door, and about twenty little rainbow pinwheels stuck around the garden

it was either the sanders’ house, or it belonged to the world’s most excited five year old

the thing is, virgil didn’t mention that it was huge with gigantic fucking windows and a chandelier that was visible from the fucking street

patton gives a quick goodbye to logan and goes up to the door. he rings the doorbell, and almost immediately, the door swings open. there’s a tall man in a stitch onesie and round glasses smiling at him, and all patton can choke out is a small “hello”

and this man squeals

like

squeals

and then he says, “you must be patton! virgil has told us so much about you--come in!”

it isn’t like patton is just going to say no, so he walks inside and follows this stranger through the house, looking around as they go

the place is just as big as it looks from the outside. there’s a formal dining room to the right and a large office to the left

patton wouldn’t really call the dining room “formal,” however, since all the chairs and the table are random colors and sizes and styles

but that doesn’t even mention the vast foyer with floating stairs to the second level on the left side of the hall and bridging to the upstairs on the right

patton couldn’t believe he was somewhere so fucking nice

they keep going and patton gets a few glimpses of the shiny kitchen and lush living room as they head through a door to the basement

disney music filtered up the stairwell as they descended into the finished basement

it smells like cookies and popcorn

they round the corner and there’s a little entertainment area with a rainbow of giant, fluffy bean bag chairs and a very large flatscreen tv that was currently on the main screen of winnie the pooh

there was also a bookshelf full of disney DVDs (and even a few VHS tapes of the classics)

virgil, roman, and dc were sitting on a couple of the bean bags, but virgil immediately hopped up and threw himself at patton when he noticed that he was downstairs

“you actually came! and you have glasses!!!”

patton huffs out a laugh as he wraps his arms around virgil and hugs him back “yes, i did show up, v. i wasn’t going to stand you up. and, yeah, i do have glasses. i didn’t want the hassle of bringing my contacts and solution and shit, so i just wore my glasses even though they look stupid”

“that’s bullshit!” virgil almost shouts, but he quickly corrects his volume “the glasses look really nice, pat. i swear.”

and there’s that stupid fluttery feeling again

patton rolls his eyes as virgil releases him from a hug, and he’s actually able to get a good look at his friend

virgil’s wearing an eeyore onesie, which matches the disney onesie theme of roman’s mushu onesie and dc’s beymax onesie

patton almost feels left out in his regular pajamas, but he cuts that shit out right the fuck away

virgil gestures to the man who brought pat downstairs “that’s emile. he’s dad’s college friend, and you said you know who dc is already” he still points to the boy who was draped over his bean bag upside down and staring at them with his heterochromatic eyes—the gold one standing out against the darker birthmark around his eye. dc flashed a peace sign, and patton waved back

virgil turns his gaze to the cookies and popcorn set out in the middle of the floor by the tv “those are free to eat—just don’t get between dad and the snickerdoodle ones. he’s vicious. and, i’m only telling you this because i know for a fact that i’m speaking too fast for him to understand”

so they all sit down and watch the movie

patton decides to not notice when virgil moves from a pink beanbag to a purple one right next to patton’s blue one

the movie starts, and it’s all goofy and fun in the basement. the sanders and picanis are quoting the characters and singing along to the little songs

even roman, who signs along with a soft smile on his face

patton is kind of in awe at how relaxed everyone is

he’s also in awe at how freaking cold it is in the basement

he can feel himself curling up and shivering, and he totally regrets wearing a tank top

patton doesn’t know how, but virgil sees him shivering and hops up from his chair, whispering a hasty “i’ll be right back” before sprinting upstairs

when virgil returns, he’s holding a bundle of gray fabric that he tosses to patton

when the bundle is unfolded, patton sees that it’s a hoodie with cat ears and paws and a big pouch in the front

“sorry that it’s so cutesy,” virgil whispers. “it was the most black thing that i own...”

and patton just laughs a little because,,,, virgil’s thought process is really adorable and weird sometimes

like any hoodie or blanket would have done, but virgil absolutely had to get patton the darkest colored one

pat puts it on and instantly feels much warmer

after winnie the pooh, they change to black cauldron

roman whines for a little bit because “there aren’t even any songs!” but eventually concedes because it’s virgil’s favorite and he isn’t going to not let his son watch the movie on disney night

after that’s done, the adults decide they’re going to go to sleep

emile says it’s because they’re old, roman says it’s because he has yet to meet his prince charming in his dreams, and he is looking forward to it

as soon as the adults are gone, the teenagers move closer to the food in the middle

“so,” virgil starts. “it’s time for our gossip session. patton, you’re completely free to sit out if you feel uncomfortable”

“what, uh, does this ‘gossip session’ include...?” pat asks because honestly ???? he’s a bit afraid of what he might hear

dc decides to answer, saying, “usually it’s about what teachers are being shitty again, how classes are going, do we have any annoying group partners. that sort of fun stuff”

and patton just nods because that’s not bad at all

and then virgil does that cute thing like in the movies where he crosses his legs and rests his elbows on his knees and he puts his chin on his hands and he leans forward

you know

that thing

and he says, “sooooo dc. what’s up with that cute boy from school that you like? oh, what was his name? ryan? ray???”

dc rolls his eyes and crosses his arms, and his voice comes out clipped and low

“i don’t have a crush on remy sanders, who you already know because he is your cousin. first of all, stop doing that every time you bring him up. second, stop fucking bringing him up”

virgil just kinda goes “aw, bud, you totally have a crush on him!”

and dc flips out

“you fucking know how much i hate your teasing about crushes, and then you go and tease me in front of someone i barely know? at least i don’t do that! actually, you know what? maybe i will tell patton who you have a crush on because, fuck it! we’re letting all of our secrets out, anyway! virgil has a crush on—“

virgil cuts him off with a loud “STOP” and patton swears that time froze in that room as everyone stares at each other

“i’m sorry,” he continues. “it was so uncool of me to tease you in front of patton without your consent. i just—i think you and remy would be good together, even if it’s just as friends”

dc stands up and starts to march to the stairs “remy and i were nothing more rivals in school, and now that he’s out of the competition, we don’t have anything to connect us. just fucking drop it. i’m going to bed”

patton doesn’t really know what the hell is going on with this remy guy, but he knows some major shit just went down

he decides to focus on virgil instead of the twinge in his chest at the mention of virgil having a crush on someone

really softly, patton asks who remy is

“he’s my cousin,” says virgil “he’s technically the year above, but he got held back last year because of some personal stuff that messed with his school work.

“ever since we were kids, remy and dc were rivals in school. they were both smart and athletic and talented, and they wanted to be the best. they had a lot of chemistry despite the constant bickering, and i tried to get them to become friends instead of rivals. it never worked because remy spends weekends with his moms, so he couldn’t do disney nights, and on the days he was with his dad and could hang out, dc was busy with gymnastics.

“then, after rem got held back, they pretty much ceased all contact. i knew that both of them were hurting because they lost the thing that fueled them to be the best that they could be, but it was pretty obvious that they were missing each other, too.

“i just want them to be happy!” virgil ends, hunching in on himself

patton hesitantly opens up his arms

“do you... do you want a hug”

virgil doesn’t even answer; he just launches himself forward and pretty much tackles patton to the floor in a hug

he’s sobbing now, and patton doesn’t really know what to do, so he pats virgil’s back every so often and whispers nice things to him

eventually, virgil’s breathing evens out and he’s just sniffling into the soaked cat hoodie

patton slowly releases him and rubs virgil’s arms gently in a reassuring gesture

“i’ve never actually done this whole sleepover thing before,” pat says with a sheepish grin, trying to play up the act (even if it is partially real). “would you mind if i slept in your room?”

virgil looks surprised for a second, but then his face smooths out into a tiny smile

“yeah, sure. it’s getting kinda late.”

they pack up the leftover food and stick it in a cupboard by the stairs before going upstairs

virgil grabs patton’s hand as the make their way to his room because tbh he needs the comfort

patton doesn’t mind

virgil opens the door to his room, and it looks just how patton expected

the bed is straight ahead from the door and placed at the bottom of a large window with pink curtains. the blanket and pillows are floral patterned in pastel colors. there are tall, white bookshelves on both sides of the bed that are filled with books of all sizes and colors; however, they look to be organized by age and genre, starting with children’s books and ending with adult fiction and nonfiction. there’s a door that leads to what patton assumes is an en suite bathroom and double sliding doors to the closet. the walls are painted a very light purple, and the remaining furniture are all a slightly darker purple. there’s a wooden desk strewn with tons of office supplies and a vanity with a large mirror and makeup neatly organized in small plastic drawers

everything just screams virgil

while patton is busy ogling at the room, virgil had gone and grabbed a sleeping bag and extra pillow, setting them up on the floor

“i’m gonna go brush my teeth, so make yourself comfy in the bed!” virgil said as he walked into the bathroom

“woah, wait—i’m not sleeping in the bed! this is your house. you get your bed!” patton argues as he takes off the wet sweatshirt and looks for a place to put his glasses for the night

“nuh uh!” virgil sticks his head out the doorway, toothbrush in hand and toothpaste all over his mouth. “you sleep in the bed”

“you aren’t sleeping in that sleeping bag. i refuse to let you do that.”

“fine!” virgil went back into the bathroom, and patton assumed that the argument was over, but virgil came back out with the same fiery look in his eyes. “if i can’t sleep in the sleeping bag, neither can you. get your ass in that bed before i tackle you”

patton had never been so afraid of a 5’7”, 130 pound boy before

he quickly slid under the covers with virgil following after he flicked off the lights

within just a few minutes, both boys were fast asleep

there is so much warmth when patton starts to stir in the morning

he’s just so warm, and he loves it

he curls into the warmth, and for a second he thinks about falling back asleep

and then there was a soft giggle

patton jolted back, opening his eyes to see that he was face to face with virgil

he had been cuddling virgil

and virgil was laughing at him

“awwww, pat! you’re so cute when you’re asleep! you kept trying to cuddle me.”

“shut the fuck up,” patton grumbled, putting his glasses back on and slipping out of the bed

“but it was so cute!!!”

“and if you tell anyone,” patton growls (although, there isn’t much bite behind it) “i will end you. I have a reputation to uphold, and i won’t let you ruin it”

virgil just laughs and follows patton downstairs, teasing him the whole way to the kitchen

roman’s already there, sitting on the counter and stirring a bowl of something

“morning, dad!”

“morning, starshine. why does patton look so grumpy?”

patton slumps into a chair at the table all emo and grumpy, and virgil softly sighs

“i was teasing him, and he got a bit grumpy at me. i’m sure he’ll lighten up as soon as we have pancakes to eat.”

surprised, patton glances over at virgil. he was expecting virgil to completely expose him like the older kids at the orphanage had done, but virgil hadn’t. the smaller boy smiles gently and winks, sitting down next to pat

there’s this strong urge in patton to lean close to virgil, but he squashes that feeling down right the fuck away

“hey, has dc been down yet...?” virgil asks, and patton can see that he’s genuinely still worried and upset about what happened last night

“i am now,” dc announces as he walks into the kitchen

patton is Extremely uncomfortable right now

dc and virgil are just staring at each other when virgil speaks up again

“look, dc, i’m really sorry. it was super selfish of me to try and force your life a certain way based on what i wanted. i’ve always just wanted you two to be happy, but i let my own emotions get in the way”

there was a long pause, and for a second, patton thought that dc was going to throw hands or something

“i forgive you, virge,” dc sighs, and he sits down next to virgil. “i’m sorry, too. i was about to deal a low blow, and that was equally shitty.” he groaned and hid his face in his hands. “and you were right”

“right about... what, exactly?” virgil asked

“i have a crush on remy”

“oh. oh! oh my gosh, dc! that’s sweet! aw, i’m proud of you.”

patton has NO clue what’s going on, but he thinks it’s a nice family moment, so he decides not to intrude

dc and virgil chat for a few minutes, and patton stares at the table silently

it feels a bit like breakfasts at the orphanage where everyone else would laugh and talk and be normal kids

and he would just

sit

alone

all the while, roman had been cooking, and he shouts out, “alright, every-gay--i mean, except patton?”

“nah, i’m... i’m gay, too.” 

“sweet!” roman says with a sigh of relief. “every-gay, it is time for... cinnamon roll pancakes!”  

a huge--like, at least thirty--pile of pancakes was set in the center of the circle, and everyone immediately began to set pancakes on their own plates and slather the frosting on top

dc and virgil began to banter with each other and, against his better judgement, patton joined in

and it felt...

really nice

patton was getting to know virgil’s friends and family better, and it was so interesting to finally be part of some sort of family dynamic for the first time

then he looked over at virgil, who was stuffing pancakes into his face and

the feelings kind of hit him straight in the face

he’s in love with virgil

virgil, his best friend

virgil, who tried to defend him even after he’d been a total asshole

virgil, who... had a crush on someone else

patton almost drops his fork as a sick, sad feeling twists inside of his stomach

he can’t be in love with virgil because virgil doesn’t love him

for the rest of the morning, patton’s all fake smiles, and he keeps quiet

he says a quick goodbye to virgil when logan shows up to drive him home, and he sits silently in the car as logan chats with roman for a few minutes

he doesn’t turn around to wave at virgil

when he gets home, he immediately goes to his room and cries into his pillow

life was a lot easier when he stifled his emotions...

to be continued... in part four

asks are loved and encouraged 💖💖💖

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[justalittlelitnerd]

Broken Knight by L.J. Shen

Photo credit to goodreads

After I finished Pretty Reckless in record time and enjoyed it so thoroughly I knew I wanted to read whatever related books L.J. Shen had to offer. While Knight and Luna weren’t overly present in Daria and Penn’s book they were mentioned enough by Daria that it was clear they would make for a good story. Broken Knight didn’t disappoint. 

Much like in Pretty Reckless the family dynamics are complex and the books really explore the effect that has on kids especially teenagers. Luna is raised by her father and stepmother and is selectively mute after her mother abandoned her as a toddler. Luna communicates through looks as much as sign language and it was nice to see her friends learn sign language to communicate with her rather than pressing her to talk. On the other end is Knight, who, in addition to dealing with the complex identity issues that often stem from being adopted, is also dealing with his mother’s worsening health and further turns to booze and drugs to cope. He’s always been able to count on Luna who he has always believed is his endgame. Until everything changes.

When Luna decides to attend college all the way across the country (at Vaughn’s insistence) the tenuous threads of their lifelong friendship start to fray before snapping all together when she breaks their unspoken promise. They continue to circle each other, changing in ways that neither expected, wondering if there’s still hope for a future for them. 

This book isn’t a true enemies-to-lovers, nor is it a friends-to-lovers, but some sort of gray area that only emerges when a lifelong friendship is destroyed in order to build a relationship from its ashes. The way that Knight and Luna are at the beginning of the book is clearly unsustainable and they were both using each other as crutches. It only makes sense that their friendship needed to be altered entirely for them to come out of it as an actual couple that could last. It really sucks that Luna made the choice she did, but I can see how if she hadn’t, if she had come home and Knight had confessed his feelings, they never would have made it. She never would have spoken and never would’ve grown strong enough to be his equal because their whole friendship was based on him protecting her and the book was heading for a moment when he would need to be taken care of. 

Now that I’ve read all three I think this one was my favorite because I loved the setup and the characters and the complexity of Luna and Knight (I also love their names). 

Keep reading for my fave quotes!

I didn’t want to kiss her. I wanted to zip open my skin and tuck her into me. Hide her from the world and keep her mine.

I loved her with the ferocity only a non-biological child could feel—hungry, visceral love, only better, because it was dipped in gratitude and awe.

I’d never seen him like this before—a storm within a storm.

I’d thought the memories of Valenciana nicked my heart, but that was nothing compared to the violent rip of it when I looked at Knight, realizing for the first time that he was going to break that piece of my heart he held hostage. Not maliciously, no, and definitely not intentionally. But it didn’t matter. Hit-and-run or struck by lightning—a death was a death. A heartbreak was a heartbreak. Pain was pain.

“Moonshine,” he whispered. “You fill up the empty, dark space—like the moon owns the sky. It is quiet. It is bright. It doesn’t need to be a ball of flame to be noticed. It simply exists. It forever glows.”

There was just one crack in my unshakable, good-natured, billion-dollar smile, and hot-motherfucker-jock stereotype persona. A barely noticeable chip. You could see it from one angle. Only the one. And only when Luna Rexroth entered the room and our eyes met—for exactly the first half-second, before I rearranged my features back into my usual smug grin.

Luna Rexroth was beautiful. Sure. But so were a lot of other girls. Difference was, Luna carried her beauty like it was something borrowed. Carefully yet casually, not making a fuss about it. She wouldn’t stand in line for anyone, anywhere. She’d stand out, glowing with quiet pride.

Up until then, the idea of Luna and me was, well, more of a fact. Roses were red. The sun rose in the east. A seahorse could move its eyes in opposite directions (Moonshine told me that herself), and Luna Rexroth was going to be my girlfriend, then fiancée, then wife.

It wasn’t a secret I’d chop heads and bring down the sun for Luna Rexroth.

Never breaking our gaze, I’d put her hand on my own heart, so she’d know, without a doubt, she wasn’t the only one whose heart had a chunk missing.

But Luna looked like nature. It was like kissing the entire fucking forest from our spot in the treehouse.

She knew that between the stigma and the person laid an open abyss, and in its depth, the truth.

There was some anger in my voice, and it made me furious with her. I tried so hard to accommodate whatever wish she had for us. When she wanted kisses, she got them. When she wanted friendship, she got that, too. What about what I wanted from her? What I needed?

I sometimes wondered what hurt more: Losing someone all of a sudden, like in a plane crash, or losing them piece by piece, like I did Knight. It was like feeling a once-warm body growing cold next to you in bed.

They used the word smitten because batshit crazy wasn’t cute. But everyone knew I was smitten with chicken wings and vintage Tumblr porn, not with Luna. With Luna, I was in fucking everything. Love. Lust. Obsession. Take your pick.

I wanted to tell her: You need to come back. Or maybe we can do the long-distance shit. I don’t care. But you slapped me, and that meant something. It meant that you care. I also wanted to say, I know you don’t believe this could work, but not trying is no longer an option. For four months I’ve wanted to give you this ultimatum, but it felt weird to do it through Skype. But now you’re here, and I’m not letting you go before we sort this shit out. Then I wanted to add, I kissed another girl in front of everyone, and it felt like cheating. And to promise her, It meant nothing. She meant nothing.

He was a dash of the boy who’d give me the entire world, thrown in with a giant, hard man who fought any positive feeling toward me.

Watching Luna kiss Vaughn, or Vaughn kiss Luna, if we’re being technical here, was God’s way of telling me he hated me on a personal, profound, go-fuck-yourself level.

Knight’s saving grace was his eyes. Everything about him was perfect to the T, an all-American superhero who could slide comfortably into Chris Pine’s shoes and give him a run for his money. But his eyes were slightly different colors, one the shade of moss, the other more hazel. He was imperfect, but only if you looked really closely. Too closely for his comfort. Too close for him to ever allow. I could never fall in love with a hundred-percenter…but Knight was a solid 99.99%.

It was like watching a car crash—or your pet Chihuahua standing up on two legs, reading Shakespearean poetry while sipping on black tea.

I’d been so busy on me-me-me island, I never bothered to sail to other territories and check in on her.

His unanswered messages were piled up in a neat corner of my phone’s memory like broken dreams, hung on a clothesline, damp from my tears of guilt.

I climbed up to Luna’s window for the first time in months, a fucked-up Romeo in a story that was definitely a comedic tragedy.

“You only get one life, Luna. One stab at this thing called happiness. Why deprive yourself of things you want just because they weren’t given to you the way you hoped for them to come? Life is like a book, a long chain of scenes threaded together by circumstances and fate. You never know how thick or thin your book is, so you better make the most out of every scene, enjoy each chapter.”

How could I ever have let him slip from my fingers? How could I have given him up? Who even cared? Love is selfish. Love is raw. Love is unfair, and unpredictable, and unstoppable.

It felt stupid to say it in the same way it felt stupid to think it. We were so much more than steady. I was going to marry her. I’d known that with every fiber of my being before I was fully potty trained, for fuck’s sake. I just hadn’t known how to label it back then.

Sometimes I’d climb up the forest’s mountain, look at the nothingness surrounding me, and think—this is it. The end of the world. Right here. Or it was when thunder cracked, and fog descended over the roads, misting the car windows. Or when I concentrated on that thin line between the skyline and the ocean, imagining myself sliding into it and letting it suck me into another dimension.

“‘Don’t be a Rosie. Be a Dean. If you want something, no matter what it is, go for it. Falling in love is rare.’” Luna’s eyes were now on Knight, only Knight, and something in the room shifted. She wasn’t merely speaking the words, she was becoming them. “Don’t give up this precious gift. Chase it. Catch it. Hold it close. Don’t let it go. And if it leaves anyway…” Her eyes clung to Knight, and for the first time—for the very first time since I’d known my own son—there were tears in his eyes. It gut-punched me to the other side of the room. “Fight for it,” Luna finished.

“Always. Whenever. Forever,” he mouthed, his lips still on mine. I decided to complete his sentence, the way I’d imagined it in my head so many years ago. “I choose you.”

[ariadnelives]

Chapter 24 -- The Ethics of Killing a Mind-Controlled Person

[Missed earlier chapters? Go catch up here! Otherwise, welcome back! Oh, and make sure to join our discord server! Chapter can also be found @ ao3”]

“Do you ever notice how we always get captured?” Spacebreather asked Sweettalk, who was, like herself, shackled to the table in front of them.. “Like, you’d think after eight years we’d start building a rescue plan into the original plan.”

“At least it’s us who got captured,” Sweettalk said, “I’m pretty sure I can glamor us out of these handcuffs, and I know there’s not a person on this ship who can take you in a fight. Do you think Ghostrunner got off the ship?”

“I sure hope not,” Spacebreather replied, “knowing her, none of them have any idea she’s here. Having an ace in the hole isn’t a bad thing.”

“Heh,” Sweettalk chuckled.

“What?”

“Ace in the hole?” Sweettalk said expectantly. “That’s you.”

“I don’t follow.”

“I mean, we’re locked up, in a world of trouble, we’re ‘In The Hole’ if you will, and you’re kinda asexual, so… Ace in the Hole.”

Pilar let out a long angry sigh.

“You’re just mad you didn’t think of it first.”

Pilar scoffed. “See, this is why you drive me up a wall sometimes. Always so flippant, always so cocksure, even when it’s absolutely not the moment for it, you crack a joke. You can’t take anything seriously”

Sweettalk rolled her eyes. “Some people appreciate a bit of levity in dire situations.”

“Like who?”

“Like your sister.”

Pilar sighed again. “Maybe I’ve been a bit unfair to you.”

“You’re a lot harder on me than you are on any of the other Whiptails.”

“Yeah,” Pilar replied. This surprised Sweettalk, who didn’t think Pilar realized she was treating her differently. “It’s just, like, in the past few weeks I’ve done a lot of introspection, and I think I might be projecting some of my own self-esteem issues onto you.”

“I literally can’t imagine why.” Sweettalk was not being sarcastic.

“When I first found you, you were an orphan girl who’d lost everything, you were next to homeless, and you had this… fiery streak in you, this anger at the system, at cruel fate, at the childhood you’d lost. I recognized it right away. That was the same fire that consumed me. Everything I hate about myself, I saw in you, and that… wasn’t fair of me. I wanted something better for you than the path I went down, I wanted to be sure that you wouldn’t end up being anything like me. It wasn’t fair of me to dislike you… and I don’t dislike you, not really… but I totally understand why you don’t like me.”

“Respectfully?” Sweettalk snapped after a moment, “That’s a total load. Of course I was angry, but do you know where I’d be if I wasn’t on your crew? I’d either be dead in some ditch somewhere or running low-level cons like Prescott to keep a roof over my head. I was already a criminal before you found me, so if anything, you just made sure I didn’t need to be one to survive. And no one ever said I didn’t like you, in fact—”

Sweettalk stopped short.

“Go on,” Pilar said sheepishly.

“In fact, I’ve always looked up to you. You’re cool, you’re smart, you’ve mastered just about every fighting style in the system, you’ve got a great relationship with the biggest nerd I’ve ever met, you’re not cocky about any of it, and when I was a kid, you strutted into my life like a knight in shining armor and showed me that there was a place in the universe for lost girls like me. If I didn’t like you, I wouldn’t give a shit about your approval.”

The room fell silent for several seconds before Spacebreather spoke. “Do you ever notice that a lot of our crew’s problems could be solved if we stopped bottling things up all the time?”

“You and Sasha are definitely sisters.”

They both chuckled, and Pilar asked, “so, do you have a plan to get us out of here?”

“My silver tongue is useless without someone to con,” Sweettalk said. “How about your muscles, can you bust out of these handcuffs?”

“Not without breaking my wrists. Makes me wish  Ariadne was here, there’s not a shackle in the universe she can’t escape from.”

“Or Sasha, she could mend your wrists pretty quick if you could get loose.”

“Seems we’re at a bit of a loss without our better halves,” Spacebreather mused. “We’re gonna have to play off each other. When they come in, here’s the plan—”

The returning crew was greeted by a very surprised Alicia at the receiving pad.

“Prep a recovery team,” Ariadne said promptly, “Ghostrunner is en route with the cult’s ship. If we’re lucky, they’ll be here within three hours.”

“Are we preparing for an attack?” Alicia asked.

“No, but make sure the spiderweb is fully operational,” Ariadne explained, “we need it to disable the ship as soon as it arrives in our airspace without frying the onboard tech. We still need the coordinates from the onboard relay. Sasha!”

“Yes, cap?”

Ariadne asked, “how’s your anxiety?”

“Anxiety, cap?”

“Your girlfriend and your sister are being held captive,” Ariadne said, “they don’t get along and it’s the first time they’ve been alone together since your sister found out you were dating.”

“I’m trying not to think about it.”

“Fair course of action. Honestly, after all this time we should really just start building a rescue plan into the first plan we come up with.”

Sasha pondered this. “I wish Mingxia was here, she always knows what to say.”

“And I wish Pilar was here,” Ariadne replied, “she always makes me feel protected when we’re under fire.”

“Well, we’re at a bit of a loss without our better halves,” Sasha said, “so we’re going to have to lean on each other. Now, it might sound crazy, but I’ve got a plan. Can you still establish a remote connection to their systems through the relay?”

The red-robed Acolyte sat at the table across from Spacebreather and Sweettalk. He was a gray-haired white man whose only noteworthy feature was a prominent bushlike quality in his dark eyebrows.

“Why is it that every time the Zealot’s glorious vision is disrupted, we always trace that disruption back to the same group of teenage miscreants breaking into our compound?”

“Offense taken,” Spacebreather attempted to cross her arms before realizing her shackles would prevent her from doing so. “She’s a teenager. I’m a fully-grown miscreant.”

“I don’t care how old you are,” the Acolyte hissed. “Your little friends made off with our property, they’ve somehow taken control of this ship, and frankly, it doesn’t exactly make me want to do you any favors. So, you should know that the only reason you’re alive right now is that we need something from you.”

“Bite me,” Spacebreather replied, and the Acolyte got visibly angry.

“What she means is,” Sweettalk said calmly, “what do you need? I’m sure we’d be able to help.”

“Where have they taken our property?”

Pilar scowled at the idea of young girls being referred to as property, and promptly raised her middle finger in response.

“Spacebreather, that’s not doing us any favors. I’m sorry, sir, she’s just a bit on-edge. Talk to me, I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”

“We know they can just brainwash us into doing whatever they want,” Pilar growled at Spacebreather, “that’s how they got this waste of a hairpiece to do their bidding, so why should we cooperate willingly?”

“I don’t particularly want to be brainwashed,” Sweettalk responded. “Just because this guy has no free will doesn’t mean I don’t value mine.”

“What are you talking about? The Zealot’s Acolytes are pure of faith. We do not require conditioning to fulfill his glorious vision.”

“Let me get this straight, you’re all totally in control of your own actions?” Sweettalk asked.

“Of course,” the Acolyte responded, and Pilar smirked, “and we won’t be forced to condition you, if you tell us what we want to know. Now. Where is our property?”

At this point, Pilar spat directly in the Acolyte’s face.

“That’s it,” the Acolyte bellowed, and called in two other large men to assist him. “You two, in here now. Take this insolent girl to the armory and execute her by firing squad.”

Pilar smiled broadly. The two men unlatched the bar that kept her cuffs secured to the table and walked her out of the room.

“Oh, you’ve done it now,” Sweettalk laughed. “I hope you’ve made peace with your god.”

“What are you talking about?” The Acolyte asked.

“You just signed the death warrant of everyone in that firing squad, and yourself,” Sweettalk explained, “that woman is a force of nature. She’s unstoppable. You’d better cherish every remaining minute of your life, I’d guess the number is already down to single-digits.”

Pilar was standing with her back to the wall of the armory.

“Last words?” She asked.

“Make ‘em quick” one of the twelve members of the firing squad said. Pilar could roughly gauge that they were standing six feet in front of her from his voice.

“You misunderstand,” said Pilar, “I am offering you your last words.”

“What?”

“Me, handcuffed, blindfolded, unarmed, up against a dozen grown men with fully loaded pulse rifles trained on me. If you went and got a few dozen more guys and some bigger guns, it might even be a fair fight. So, if any of you have any last words, now is the time to say them.”

“She’s just trying to stall,” another said. “Fire on my count. Three. Two. O—”

It was at this moment that Pilar dropped suddenly to the ground and twelve pulse rounds left scorch marks in the approximate area where her torso was just moments before.

Despite her arms and legs being shackled, she still managed to move with relative swiftness. Planting both her arms on the ground behind her, she managed to swing both of her legs around into the knees of the leftmost Acolyte, sending him toppling into the man next to him and creating a domino effect that at least managed to disorient the entire line.

Pilar took advantage of this opportunity to remove her blindfold, but didn’t have time to do much else, as the Acolytes were back on their feet.

Three of them managed to fire off their weapons but Pilar was able to avoid both shots in time, and in the same fluid motion, pulled her rear end and legs over the shackles on her arms. Her hands weren’t free, but at least they were now in front of her.

Two more Acolytes fired off shots and she dodged them as she got to her feet. She needed flawless timing if this was going to work. One of them was carefully taking aim for a headshot. She had to be faster than him, and she’d need to execute this move perfectly, or else she would be finished for sure.

One moment before he pulled the trigger, Pilar launched herself up into the air several feet and snagged her handcuff chain on an ornate light fixture hanging from the ceiling. The pulse intended for her head now fired through the space where her head had been, which was now occupied by the chain holding her legs together.

Now that her legs were free, she twisted her torso so the chandelier would spin and kicked them out, knocking five of the firing squad to the floor.

She dropped back to the ground as another Acolyte took aim at her and, thinking quickly, she swung the chain between her wrists around the neck of one of his compatriots and pulled him in front of her.

The shot landed squarely in the man’s throat, severing Pilar’s chain. He toppled to the floor, dead, but not before Pilar was able to grab his gun.

She got three shots off before anyone could realize what had happened. Three Acolytes slumped down on the ground.

Pilar now found herself in the center of the room. Five more of the armed men took aim and pulled the trigger. Pilar ducked just in time to dodge the crossfire. One shot hit a nearby munitions rack, knocking several grenades to the ground near the ankles of the three men standing furthest back, and the other four shots landed in the chests of the other four men, who’d been standing behind her before she’d ducked.

Three Acolytes were left, and her weapon was overheating. It would be unable to fire without another heat sink. One of them attempted to physically tackle her so the others could shoot her more easily, but she managed to spin her weapon around and break his nose with the butt of the rifle, knocking him back into his two peers.

With the half-second this afforded her, Pilar grabbed one of the dead Acolytes’ weapons from the ground, and took aim at the three remaining men.

“Should’ve picked better last words,” she laughed, aimed at their feet, and fired. The plasma round connected with one of the grenades, setting it off, and the explosion created a chain reaction that set off every explosive in the immediate area.

“She’s been gone for eight minutes,” Sweettalk said, “I’d say that gives you about forty five seconds to live. Are you prepared?”

“Your friend is dead,” the bushy-eyebrowed Acolyte said, “and you will be as well if you don’t cooperate soon.”

“You know, I’ve never been on the other side of good-cop-bad-cop before. I can’t believe it worked.”

“What?”

“My good cop got you to tell us that you weren’t mind-controlled, meaning my friend knew it wouldn’t be unethical to kill you in self-defense. My friend’s bad cop got you to detach her from this table and hand over twelve shmucks with guns for her to take. And in about fifteen seconds, she’ll be at the door with all twelve guns.”

“You’ve got to give up this absurd fantasy,” the man said.

“Nine… eight… seven…” Sweettalk said irreverently.

The Acolyte insisted, “your friend is dead. Just tell us wh—”

There was a knock on the door that stopped him cold. A moment later, Pilar kicked down the door with, as promised, eleven rifles, several dozen heat sinks, and a few grenades in a bag slung over her shoulder, in addition to the rifle she was aiming at the Acolyte’s head.

“Your firing squad is dead,” Pilar said. “Surrender command of the ship and I let you keep the top of your skull.”

“You can’t take all of us. If I die, you’ll die too.”

“Devotees of the Red God cult,” said a loud, clear voice suddenly coming over the loudspeaker. “This is the pirate Ariadne. I am now in command of your ship. I assume several of you have been killed or at least seriously maimed by my associate onboard. Cooperate with her directives, and you might live. Fail to cooperate and we will open the airlocks. My associates are equipped to survive this. You are not.”

“She’s bluffing,” the Acolyte said, “No way she could control the ship’s subsystems remotely.”

“And just to prove I’m not bluffing…” the voice said, “Ghostrunner, cut power to the lights.”

The lights switched off immediately.

“I’d listen to her,” Pilar said, “She won’t hesitate to space you clowns, and she sounds like a great kisser.”

The Red God sat on his fiery throne and watched on a security monitor as 437 red-robed bodies fell through the airlock and into the void of space.

“It’s only a matter of time before they find me,” the Red God said to the empty room, knowing he would be heard anyway. “All free-thinking acolytes fall back to defend the Pit of Fear.”

A gravelly voice replied, “sir, we can still access the Life Center facility from the access points on Mars. Should we activate the Thralls to go in and reclaim the ship?”

“The access points are compromised,” the Red God replied, “these meddling teenagers have set the portal device adrift in space. The only things left in the rental properties now are the information desk and the Suffering Tests. Try to go further than that and you’ll meet the same fate as the failures who couldn’t prevent a handful of misguided sorority sisters from taking my property.”

“We could redouble our efforts,” the voice said back, “We could amp up the power on the Suffering Tests. If it works, we should be able to implant the programming even without the subject’s consent.”

The Red God growled, “you couldn’t have figured that one out before letting them take my new body?”

“Sir, it’s not reliable, your transferral is too important to entrust to an emergency measure like this.”

“The Thralls will have to wait,” the Red God said, “They’ll be no use if these children find me. First, we kill them at the Pit of Fear and put my mind into its new host by any means necessary. Then there will be nothing standing in the way of a unified Martian Paradise.”

“A glorious kingdom of morally perfect servants enthralled by their king,” the Acolyte prayed reflexively.

“I’ll see you at the Pit,” the Red God said impatiently, “arm yourselves to the teeth.”

[mariellewritesalot]

In Conclusion, 2018

Goodbyes have always seemed second nature to me, but as soon as they happen, there’s either nothing, or so much more left to say. It’s one of those things that should come easy for writers with much pain and experience to show for, but decides to be a creative roadblock with a deadline. The end always does feel like a new beginning, if you think about it; partially because goodbyes are often times so sudden that we barely have the chance to take a breath before speaking. It could also be the exact opposite: a slow burn that gives us time to prepare, but still manages to completely take us aback on how real it feels, so we end up letting out what begs to come forth, without knowing that some things are better left unsaid. I am a firm believer that people only mean what they say the moment they say it, and as I am writing this, I feel the weight of the entire year on my shoulder about to be eased by the promise of consolation: what lessons were learned, and how do I apply them? 

To tell you the truth, I’ve always had an inkling that 2018 was not going to be my year, but now I see that there were just a lot of battles that I won and lost, tragically. Most of the time chronically, so I truly felt whatever fortune life presented at that time. The first half of the year provided me with heartbreaks in the demise of a relationship, the death of a friend, and a rejection that threw my college future off-course for a while, before I was able to redeem myself: what’s meant to be, always will be. I graduated Senior High School with flying colors. I got into UPD through a talent test in writing. I watched LANY and Harry Styles live. I worked my first job at my cousin’s spa in Tomas Morato as their supervisor in the summer, met so many people I now can proudly call constants. I released a short story after a long writing drought. I learned a new thing or two, like how much I enjoy writing in Filipino that the course I never imagined taking gave me a mission to widen my writing span with a purpose. I joined the controversial 96th Philippine Collegian that raised eyebrows, but gave me a new family and so much insight on journalistic writing. I applied for UP Children’s Rights Advocates League (UP CRAdLe), my first org in UP, to give myself an avenue to help out. I gave my first talk on creative writing, alongside seasoned professionals, at PUP. I turned nineteen without much fuss, something my spirit animal Lily Aldrin-Ericksen (from HIMYM) will not approve of. I went out with my friends more, learned new ways to get around the city (and broke my curfew) at the same time. I decided it’s okay not to be okay sometimes, gave myself breathing space from my overachieving, perfectionist ideals and took care of my anxiousness rather than tolerating habits that contributed to its continuity. True to its promise, taking it day by day gave me the ride of a lifetime. I felt like I matured more this year than I ever have before, and I have that to be grateful for.

I also saw a silver lining when the next half of the year led me to the love of my life, only to fall short when I was doing so much for so little, and was given uncertainty and indecisiveness in return. It felt more than just saying goodbye to a person. There was too much on the line, so it started to feel like losing a part of myself especially because I found my best friend in the same person. But resiliency in two people can mean see you again or see you around, still, even in the attempt of friendship for the sake of the people affected. I never noticed how hard it was to fix things I can’t take the blame for; hence being forced to sit this one out because it’s out of my control. Forgiving myself proves to be a task I need to conquer in order to accept it. However, I can’t tell you how beautiful it is that even in hurt, just by looking back, I’m surprised of the love I’m capable of and the memories shared that no one else but the both of us know of. I will miss the people around us the most. What also adds salt to the wound is the fact that I’ll probably never have the chance to say my goodbyes or explain things from my perspective. I guess growing up means there has to be room for love to take shape in different ways, or for time and space to hone us into better people until we’re exactly where we need to be. If anything, I just have to let life run its course. Let the chips fall where they may (an ode to that iconic Gossip Girl Season 5 finale) until I get the winning hand. God has always had His own way of surprising me. If a love is meant to be, I’d know. I am my mother’s child, after all, born into a family that was favored by destiny and a lot of faith.

The lessons disguised as experiences I gathered this year were all pointing to the same virtue: patience. Let me tell you, for someone as anxious as I am, it’s hard to trust anything or anyone if I know I can take things into my own hands. I’ve always been the type to organize and plan whenever I could, I often feel restless because I choose to work for whatever I want and currently have. I guess that’s why even in different scenarios, a recurring theme I notice, in terms of learning, really, is to wait. In times when I don’t realize I am waiting, I wake up one day really happy because I got what I wanted, but I barely acknowledge all the times I had to sit still for it to happen. I truly want to forgive myself for ever trying too hard or not trying at all, for all the opportunities missed, and the embarrassing honest-to-god-knock-me-out moments I’d rather not relive. I apologize for any of it, because if you know me well enough, you’d know I thought about it over and over until I am certain of what to take the blame for and what to do next time I am faced with a similar situation. I will no longer punish myself for being too much, rather, I will redirect my energy to things and people that deserve it. It’s a long way to go, but what matters to me the most is that I’m trying to be better and acknowledging my wrongdoings along the way. I have the start somewhere, don’t I?

This year also gave me a rude awakening on commitment and priorities. I think I’ve made myself ready for anything, especially long-term, if I deem it worthy of my time and effort. I also see myself as someone with good time management (aka my “I’ll complain about it but you’ll never see me not do it” complex) so my priorities were never an issue, however, even if my IQ doesn’t suffer, my EQ does. I can’t blame anyone but myself for being such a hopeless romantic because no matter how much I deny it, I quite like being all lovey-dovey. However, after a series of failed attempts and investments despite being in my best behavior, I guess it truly is the time to let love take the backseat for a while. I’m crossing my fingers that I won’t break my own rules this time. After all, I can stand on my own, and ironically, it’s what men always seem to love about me until it backfires drastically in different ways. I either stray away from my usual, uptight self, or stay in the upper hand, until they get tired of it. I guess there is some truth in the belief that you fall out of love for the same reasons you fell in it. For 2019, the only person I am looking into falling in love with (again and again) is myself. I still have a lot to work and reflect on, and stubbornness to let go of. For whatever it’s worth, I got to admit that though there is the aura of loneliness that clings on solitude, nothing feels as good as going to bed without worrying about another person. In return, I’ll cling onto any good feeling that comes out of this as hard as I can.

There’s something about the end of another year and the beginning of a new one that rouses everyone from their stupor (momentarily) until we’re all out for blood, or the best version of ourselves. At the very least, it’s always for the benefit of ourselves and those around us, lest we forget what we came in for. I have a lot of things planned out for myself in 2019, a new set of goals to achieve and dreams to pursue. I’ve always made myself busy to fill voids. I can’t divulge any further, since I somehow still have the tendency of losing interest whenever I tell people what I am up to. Maybe it’s because I live for the thrill of it all, and the shock from everyone, including myself, when I manage to pull things off. There’s a certain charm to things when you least expect them.

The only thing I want to attest to right now is my promise to write more for leisure and give you more content to look forward to, both in Filipino and English. I can never be too sure of myself, since a new year can also mean a new set of problems, setbacks, failures, and heartbreaks I may never be prepared for; but at least I know that come what may, I will always be provided with the strength and courage to get through. If I had known then that growing up meant more than just the no-fail linear path that includes the college-job-marriage mindset, I would have wanted to stay young longer. Adults have often tried to warn me and others, though, so it’s fair game. I just wish I wasn’t so in the rush. I’ve always thought I was mature for my age, but at nineteen, I feel more confused by the minute. There’s so much more to learn and experience before I ever deem myself worthy of honor. Sometimes I can’t believe I’m almost out of my teenage years when I know I still have my childish moments. This is a process I’m willing to see through, no matter how unbearable it gets. As a writer, it’s imperative for me to experience life in the extremities of emotions, more than just the gray areas I’m well acquainted with. It’s what helps with the craft, well, I can’t write about what I don’t know. If I could wish for something in 2019, it might as well be to regain my footing from the setbacks of 2018. 

I’m ready if you are. Stay tuned.

*Let’s connect with each other through Spotify: mariellewashere.

[deanandcastrash]

Being a writer, forcing ideas into the world came naturally, and it was a bad habit that Castiel had to learn how to break. 


When he was younger-a young writer-Castiel used to think something so far out there was great, and he would force it into words, onto a page that it didn’t fit. 
Those ideas would turn into these rabid monsters, clawing at the page, chewing up each letter of each word between their sharp teeth. 
He knew he had to learn to let it come naturally, but he didn’t know exactly what that consisted of. He didn’t know how to do that. 


One morning, after many countless nights sitting behind a blinking cruiser, Castiel got up out of bed, turned on his computer, and wrote the first thing that came to his mind and everything that came to his mind until he had a string of words lines long in front of that blinking cruiser. 
He wrote mostly of his life, things that meant a lot to him. It was the most fun to write about. 
It surprised him so much-that he had written so much-that he knew that this is what he must do. This was the only natural thing he knew to write. 


So every morning for quite a few years, Castiel would get up and sit behind the computer. Sometimes for hours, sometimes for just a few minuets, and he would write about everything that came to his mind (or mostly everything).

Once he got better at writing; once he felt more confident, he would stare at a word on the page and weigh it down with his arms, his arms that carried his life- his memories. He picked the words that could support the weight. He picked the words that could handle the pressure. Soon though, Castiel began losing the details of his childhood. He couldn’t remember his beloved cats name he had through middle school. So, one morning, sitting behind his computer screen, behind that blinking cruiser, Castiel took a trip to his grandparents house back in Kansas. He walked up to the front lawn. He felt the grass in his fingers. He walked inside, and he didn’t look at the neighbors house next door. Each morning, Castiel explored each room. He looked desperately for some old toys he might have left behind, or some forgotten memories. Each morning, Castiel took a trip to the place he used to call home. It had been months, and Castiel had only found a few things that he hadn’t expected; only small surprises had occurred recently. Nothing big enough to satisfy his writer needs. It had been several months more before Castiel gave in. He wasn’t going to find any bigger surprise than the thing he was sure he was hiding.

One morning, when Castiel woke up, his black hair littered with gray, his eyes once a bright blue and full with life, now dull and dark, he sat behind his computer for the first time in years. He stared at the blinking cruiser before him.

Castiel had stopped writing. He had stopped trying to remember specific details because there was this one huge detail that was always getting in the way. But this morning, for some reason, was different.

Castiel closed his eyes, and he typed.

Cas took a trip to his grandparents house, but once he got there, he knocked on the neighbors door.

Dean Winchester was just about the worst behaved seventeen year olds to live in Lawrence Kansas, and Lawerence was a big city. 

He walked big and acted bigger. He did the normal rebellious teenage number, you know, stealing things from the gas station and keying peoples cars. Getting and giving illegal tattoos. Most people saw him for just that, a teenage guy who smokes, skips school, and gives no shits, but when Castiel met him back when he was only a twelve year old shy-guy, he saw him for who he really was. Dean loved his brother more than he loved himself, and he would do anything for him, and even though Castiel was three-and-a-half months older than Dean, he looked up to him because of it.  

Castiel knew who he really was, and even as they began to drift apart and Dean started wearing too much flannel and listening to so much rock and put on this persona that was oh-so familiar to his dad, Castiel still remembered who he was. Castiel was still his best friend, even though he wrote as many words as Dean listened to in his music, and owned as many scratchy green and purple sweaters as Dean had green and purple flannel.

Castiel was actually wearing his greenest sweater when he knocked on Deans door after school one day, and he grinned when he saw him. “Hey, Cas. Been a while.” “Well, if you went to school it wouldn’t seem so long.” “Yeah, well, that school thing really isn’t my thing.” “Too bad.” Dean nodded and grinned at his sweater again. “Let’s go somewhere, yeah?” “Sure.” Castiel shrugged and watched as Dean yelled inside to tell his brother he would ‘be out with Cas for a while’.

Cas followed Dean to his car and he started it up and drove out of the driveway.

Things were a lot different from what they were when they were twelve.

They were seventeen now, both could drive, but Dean had the car. Really it was his dad’s, but Dean was the one taking care of it and driving it around. That was different. And Dean had tattoos now.

‘non timebo mala’ was tattooed on his wrist, Latin for ‘i will fear no evil.’ Above that was a tat of a roaring tiger, broken up into geometric shapes. Red roses with green spiky stems filled the spaces between that and another tattoo, which were the numbers 1967, for his car. Above that was the last tattoo on his right-arm sleeve-the zepplin zoso symbol with all of the other album symbols mixed in with it. Dean had one more tattoo. It was on his right-side collar bone, and it said ‘so it goes.’

Castiel didn’t have any tattoos. Not much about Castiel had changed since they were twelve. It was really just his relationship with Dean that had changed.

They went from classmates working on projects in school together and sitting alone at lunch to casual friends who just drove around town in silence when they were bored just to have each other’s company.

They used to talk about girls and how awful the math teacher was. Cas missed that, they missed the fact that they used to talk at all. Castiel’s senior year of highschool was almost halfway over and he was afraid that after he graduated they wouldn’t even hang out anymore, so Cas had been coming over to Dean’s more and more often to hang after school.

He desperatley wanted to relearn how to communicate with Dean. It wasn’t so long ago that Cas could look at Dean and know what he was thinking.

What happened?

“Where are we going?” They had been driving for hardly five minuets, but Cas didn’t know why they had gone this direction, downtown was the other way, and they always drove downtown.

“Someplace different.” Dean turned onto a smaller road and from there turned into a parking lot, and you wouldn’t believe what of.

It was a park.

A small play area for kids off to the side, but everywhere else was anchors and anchors of land with walking paths and park benches and flowers and trees.

Dean parked the car and took out the keys. “Someplace we can talk, ‘cause we haven’t done that in a while.”

Cas didn’t know what to say, but it didn’t matter because Dean was already getting out of the car.

Cas followed him down a path and they began walking together, their steps in sync. 

A tattooed, high school drop out, flannel wearing boy and a straight A, scratchy sweater wearing boy. Walking together. In a park. On a warm thursday afternoon.

“So, you done any writing latley? Anything you’re working on?”

Castiel widened his eyes in surprise. Dean remembered that he writes? “Uh, yeah, actually, I’m working on my first novel right now.”

Dean looked over at Cas. “Oh yeah? Mind telling me what it’s about?”

“It’s about this guy who’s in a coma and he realizes it when his girlfriend isn’t acting right. She’s giving him signs and clues as to how to wake up and he has to pay attention to catch them to wake up before it’s too late.” 

Dean’s eyebrows raised and he nodded in approvement. “It’s so cool how you still write, Cas. I mean you were so good at it years ago, you must be brilliant at it now.”

Cas blushed, ‘Oh, I don’t know about that.”

“Come on, it has to be true. You need to show me some of your new stuff sometime. I only like to read if you’re the writer.”

“Okay, sure. We should sometime.”

They made it to a picnic table in a nice shaded area under some trees.

Dean took off his flannel leaving his black short sleeve shirt, and put it on the tabletop before he sat down and propped his feet on the seats below. Castiel faced him on the table, sitting criss-cross.

Cas stared at Dean’s arms propped up by his sides holding him up, stared at his tattoos.

“Dean, your Latin tattoo, the one that says ‘I will fear no evil,’ why did you get it? What does it mean to you?”

Dean held up his arm and examined his tattoo.

“Evil is just anything bad or scary to a person. Like this tiger,” Dean pointed at his own skin. “But if you look at evil with a different perspective, you shouldn’t be fearful of it anymore. This tiger is broken up into 5 different pieces, each representing a different persepctive, or point, or reason I have for not being scared of bad things.”

Castiel was in complete shock at the Winchester’s words. He never expected his tattoos to have so much meaning. 

“So basically one is bad things help us appreciate good things, another is if you’re going through something bad, it can only get better.” Dean was going through them all, pointing at each piece of the tiger. “You should appreciate what you have before it becomes what you had, once bad things pass you’re left smarter and stronger, and this last one is basically you have family and friends who love you and are there for you if you need them.”

Dean was pointing at the biggest piece of the tiger.

“Wow, Dean, that is such a better explanation than what I was guessing!” Castiel chuckled and so did Dean.

“You wanna know what the roses are for?” Dean asked, and Cas scooted closer towards Dean and nodded.

“Yes, I very much do.”

“Each rose represents a person I can always count on.”

Cas counted the roses on Dean’s arm. there were four.

“Guess who they are.” Dean stared into Castiel’s eyes and Cas looked down at Dean’s arm and studied the roses.

Cas touched the first rose on Dean’s arm. “Sam.”

Dean nodded, “Easy.”

Cas touched the second one, “your dad.”

“Yep.”

Cas touched the third rose on Dean’s arm and thought hard. He knew it was his uncle. . .what was his name? “Your Uncle Bobby!”

“Hey, good job Cas. Bet you can’t guess this last one though.”

Dean was right. Castiel had no idea who the last rose could be for. Dean didn’t have much of any family, let alone anyone else he could count on.

Castiel traces the lines of the tattoo with his finger. Dean’s skin was warm, warmer than the air and it was a warm day. He had freckles and you could see them through some of the light colors of his tattoos. He had so many freckles.

“I don’t know? Benny?”

Dean chuckled. “No way. I could never count on Benny like I could count on Sammy, or dad, or Bobby.”

Cas looked away from the rose and looked at Dean, his fingers still running across Dean’s skin. “I don’t know. Tell me.”

Dean grinned at him, his green eyes catching light. “It’s you, Cas.”

“What?” Cas felt his heart skip a beat. He dropped his hand from Dean’s arm.

“It’s you. You’re the fourth rose. I can always count on you to be there for me. Even when I do dumb shit like start to smoke and drop out of school. You’re always there for me when I need you.”

“Dean. . . “ Castiel couldn’t really describe what he was feeling, but it was a lot like the time he was hanging out with his middle school crush named Hannah at the school fair. When they were alone and Castiel kissed her.

“I hate how we don’t talk like we used to anymore. I really miss hanging out,” Dean said.

“Me too, honestly.”

“Well, I’m glad you feel the same. It’d be a damn shame if I got a tattoo because of you being there for me and you didn’t even want to hang out.”

Castiel laughed, “Dean I can’t believe you’ve had that tattoo for that long but never told me.”

“You never asked before.”

“Well, I’m glad I finnally did.” Time suddenly started moving in slow motion. Castiel couldn’t rub off this feeling that he had to kiss Dean. He had never felt this way with Dean before, but the way Dean’s eyes were glowing in the light, the nearness of his mouth, and the feeling of Dean’s rose tattoo under Castiel’s thumb was just really a lot.

Castiel had his hand on Dean’s arm again. He was circling the tattoo with his thumb. Cas could see Dean’s face and how he was looking at him, but Cas couldn’t look Dean in the eye. He would kiss him. Right now though, it was hard to think Dean didn’t want that with the way he was inching his face closer and closer to Cas’s.

Dean kicked his legs up onto the table and turned to face Cas, who’s eyes were glued to Dean’s arm.

Their knees were brushing.

“Cas,” Dean whispered. 

Cas didn’t even move. “Cas, look at me.”

Dean’s other hand cupped Cas’s chin, and he tilted Castiel’s head to look at Dean. It was like Dean was staring into his soul.

Dean didn’t force Cas to kiss him, although he easily could have. It was as though Dean was too afraid to do it himself, but he was growing impatient. Like he had been waiting his whole life for this moment. Cas really didn’t want to make him wait any longer. Who would’ve guessed the one with the tattoos would be too shy to make the next move?

Dean let go of Cas’s face. His hand fell to his side.Cas grabbed his arm. He was holding both of Dean’s arms. 

Dean was looking at Cas with this look that he didn’t even know how to begin to describe.

It was a whole new level of lust, and it was all from Dean. Dean Winchester. To him, Castiel.

Where had this feeling been all along?

Castiel couldn’t wait any longer. He let go of Dean’s arms and instead cupped the sides of Dean’s face and pulled Dean into a kiss.

Dean responded almost immediatley, and almost violently as he sucked on Cas’s lips so hard. Cas pulled Deans hair and put his hand on the back of his neck and brought him in closer.

Dean uncrossed his legs and Cas found himself on his knees on a picnic table with Dean Winchester’s legs wrapped around him, pulling on Dean’s shirt, and Dean pulling Castiel’s hair.

Dean tasted like childhood, and love, and red rose tattoos. He tasted like freckles and warmth.

Castiel never wanted to stop kissing Dean, but when he did, and they walked back to the car, Dean told Cas how every thorn on his rose was a time when Dean wanted to kiss him but couldn’t.

And why they stopped talking started to make a lot more sense.

This time, when Castiel was done writing, he had lines and lines of words in front of the cruiser, but he also had streams of tears going down his cheeks.

Castiel always tried to force a story out that he knew nothing or felt nothing about. He never before tried to write about this.

He would never sell a book about a gay couple, it was the 70s. He’d always try to write about a girl and a boy, but he knew nothing about females in relationships.

Last night, though, when Dean and Cas lay on the couch together talking about the past and rubbing old tattoos, Cas said fuck it.

He managed to get this far. He stayed with Dean for this long, his dad, brother, and uncle supported him. The world would just have to learn how to. Castiel was done with trying to force ideas out into the world. He wanted to put stories out there, real life stories.

Dean had people who were there for him no matter what, so did Cas. It was time to stop being afraid of evil.