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gumnut-logic · 3 years ago

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It was late.

It had been a very long day.

A very, very long day.

Scott had been held back at the danger zone by bureaucratic nonsense and a CEO throwing a fit over a couple of Thunderbirds parking in his carpark and the resultant damage to a nearby building.

The insensitivity and self-involvement had John reining Scott in over comms. It wasn’t like he was going to hit the guy, really, no matter how satisfying it might have been. But it had been a gruelling and messy rescue digging people out of a collapsed shopping mall.

He and his brothers had been digging for hours.

Eventually he had to call it and had sent Thunderbird Two back to base.

He had intended to follow shortly after, but…obstacles.

It was just past three in the morning when One streaked into a hover above Tracy Island. The shift to vertical flight was smooth and mostly subconscious. Scott felt his ‘bird in his bones.

As he lowered her through the gap left by the pool, a dim light from the lounge told him he wasn’t the only one awake.

He had his suspicions who it might be and that only had him working through post-flight faster.

It could be Grandma, but chances were it was Virgil waiting for him to come home.

He didn’t always do this. Only after the difficult ones.

And this one had been far from easy.

Scott hurried up to the locker room and, shucking his uniform, washed the sweat and grime from his skin. It felt good to be clean, an extra step further away from the tragedy they had left behind.

He didn’t bother getting dressed other than to throw on some pyjama bottoms and an old t-shirt. he would check on his brother, possibly grab a quick bite of food and a drink, and then hit the sack.

The house was quiet as he made his way to the lounge. No doubt Grandma and Virgil combined were a force that saw the younger Tracys safe in bed. Virgil likely then turned on his partner in crime and bundled her off as well.

He was determined like that.

Sure enough, a quiet step into the lounge and he found his brother in their father’s chair.

Asleep.

Dark curls let loose from their product by a long-ago shower were a hastily combed mess on his forehead as Dad’s chair held Scott’s brother as if it were its owner. The worn upholstery cradling worn out rescue operative ever so gently.

Scott’s bare feet made little sound as he stepped across the hardwood floor. It was a warm night. The open windows let in a soft breeze off the Pacific laced with the honey scent of flowering pōhutukawa trees.

Virgil muttered and shifted in his sleep.

The sound drew Scott’s attention back to his brother. The desk lamp was the only source of light in the room beyond the starlight far above. The moon had already set and outside was almost as dark as it got, the ocean murmuring in the distance.

There was paper on the desk.

Scott didn’t use much in the way of paper himself. Most of his work was digital, often holographic and as ecologically sound as he could get it.

Virgil, however, did keep a stash of different surfaces to art on in his studio. Paper was one of them. Obviously, some had made it out tonight.

Pencil sketches covered the white sheets. Eyes, half drawn faces. Gordon popped up in one corner, a familiar smile on his face. Thunderbird One had her grapple out and was lifting something half-drawn.

He found his own face staring out of the paper. His drawn self was obviously angry and glaring at a faceless head.

Scott arched an eyebrow at the obscenity scratched into the cartridge under the non-person creature.

Virgil had obviously not been happy that Scott had been held up.

There were other words on the page amongst the drawings. Virgil doodling and possibly venting in the process. Even Scott could see the emotion drawn in graphite.

He sighed.

As if agreeing, Virgil snorted and tried to turn over in the chair, a manoeuvre that wasn’t recommended.

Scott caught his brother under his arms as he tried to slide off the leather upholstery.

He earned a grunt for his efforts. Bleary brown eyes opened and stared up at him. “Sc-t?”

“Hey.” A soft smile. “You planning on camping out tonight?”

Another grunt and his brother tried to right himself in the chair. “You took too long. Why didn’t you sic John on ‘em?”

“I did. But not until tomorrow. John needs his sleep as much as you do.”

“Yes. Yes, he does. Tol’ him.” Virgil’s eyes drifted closed again and he began to sink back into the chair.

“Oh, no you don’t. You’re going to bed, little brother.” Scott gripped Virgil a little tighter and pulled him up and out of the chair.

Various limbs pinwheeled a little and Scott ended up with his arms full of dopey brother, but he got the man on to his feet.

Virgil grumbled into his t-shirt and Scott let off a snort of a laugh. His biggest brother was hopeless when his sleep was disturbed. It was an ongoing source of prankdom – at the risk of the perpetrator’s life.

Hell, Gordon had managed to draw in a second pair of eyebrows on Virgil’s forehead once – while the man was supposedly awake and nursing his coffee.

The double-eyebrowed death monster that had resulted once enough coffee had been ingested was of legendary proportions. Grandma had literally roasted Gordon alive and a ban on markers on anyone’s faces had been instituted for all eternity.

Gordon was a multitalented artist, however, and simply switched mediums.

The honey had Scott blowing a circuit.

But dopey Virgil was a familiar and smile-inducing feature of the Tracy household.

Scott found himself grinning.

“Shuddup.”

Well, at least Virgil had managed a couple of neurons worth of thought.

Scott’s smile only got wider.

Virgil groaned and pushed his brother away and stumbled a little. “’M gonna bed.”

“You do that.” Scott had to stick out a hand and steady him as he wobbled into the side of the desk. “Need a hand?”

That triggered some incoherent grumbling that threatened bear territory. Scott couldn’t help himself and just grinned more as Virgil teetered away in the direction of the elevator.

The fact Scott had to save him from falling into the sunken lounge was probably a sign that the answer to his question was a definite ‘yes’.

A hand on his brother’s elbow prompted more grumbling, but the elbow wasn’t yanked away and by the time they made it into the elevator, Virgil had pretty much faceplanted himself into Scott’s shoulder.

The grin turned into a fond smile as he hit the button for the residential levels.

“You neeb togoto bed too.” It was muffled by the sleeve of Scott’s t-shirt.

“That’s the plan.”

“You bedda.”

Scott wrapped an arm around his brother’s shoulders. “Or what?”

More incoherent grumbling.

Scott pulled him in a little tighter as the elevator doors opened.

It was like leading a zombie down the corridor, though Scott could easily empathise. He was looking forward to his own pillow as soon as he saw Virgil to his.

A yawn escaped.

His brother looked up as if the medic had bypassed his brain and booted in safe mode. “You need sleep. Go to bed.”

He gestured towards door to Virgil’s rooms. “After you.”

Virgil frowned. “You first.”

Scott rolled his eyes and, reaching around his brother, activated the door and, with a little manoeuvring, manhandled Virgil into his rooms.

“Hey!”

His hand returned to his brother’s elbow and he marched him into his bedroom, amid protests.

“You need to look after yourself.” Virgil finger was jabbed into Scott’s breastbone.

Was it possible for a human to have one half of his brain awake and the other asleep at the same time? Apparently, some birds could do that. Gordon had gone into great detail that year they spotted some migratory waders landing on their beaches mid-transit.

In any case, Virgil obviously wasn’t all there as Scott backed him up against the end of his bed and pulled back the covers. Virgil continued to nag Scott to bed with varying levels of coherence. Smiling, Scott gave his rambling brother a gentle nudge and their gentle giant went Gulliver, flat on his back.

“Scott?!”

The eldest yanked up the covers and muffled the outraged mutterings. “Yes, Virgil?”

But his protests began to fade away and, as Scott pulled down the covers a little and tucked them in, he realised Virgil’s eyes were already drooping again.

Dopey indeed.

He brushed curls off his brother’s forehead. “Sleep, Virg.”

“Mmm, Sco’, go bed.”

Softly. “I will.”

“Mmmhm.”

Scott couldn’t help but smile a little more as Virgil drifted off.

A final touch to his brother’s hair and Scott straightened, his body creaking enough to remind him, that yes, he needed his bed as well.

He slipped quietly out of Virgil’s room and secured the door. A glance down the corridor, a thought, and he walked quietly down to check on Gordon.

The last he had seen of his fish brother had involved sad eyes and concrete dust. A quiet step into his rooms and he found Gordon as he had suspected he would.

The aquanaut was tangled in his sheets and throttling his pillow.

There was a frown on his face.

Much practised manoeuvring and he managed to straighten the Fish out and untangle him from his bedclothes.

Half asleep protests were halted by a plushie squid that awake Gordon would claim to his death never left the mantle above his bed.

Scott knew better.

His little brother quietened, falling into a deeper sleep.

After that, Scott couldn’t help but check in on Alan. It was probably a fortunate thing, because opening the door found Alan asleep in front of it.

The littlest Tracy had a history of wandering in his sleep. Scott had it checked out and it was directly related to early childhood trauma. Which one was a game of pick one.

It was managed, but occasionally it flared up. One of the most common symptoms was climbing out of bed and sleeping on the floor. Sometimes, the piece of floor chosen was a little inconvenient.

Scott was just happy the piece chosen wasn’t a balcony. Five and now Eos had been tracking Alan while he slept for years and issued alerts if he should wander too far.

Scott slipped into the room sideways and, with cracking knees, lifted his little brother off the floor.

Fortunately or unfortunately, Alan shared his sleep type with Virgil and slept like the dead. So, it was easy to move him over to his specially plush rug and snuggle him up with a pillow and quilt from his bed.

Alan muttered something about Virgil pulling him up, possibly something to do with the day’s rescue.

Scott reached out and touched Alan’s cheek.

His little brother mumbled his name and leant into his hand.

Scott blinked. The emotion that suddenly gripped him was just a sign of how tired he was.

Letting go, he pushed to his feet and slipped from the room. In the corridor, he closed his eyes and leant back against the wall for a moment.

One to go.

He tugged at the collar of his t-shirt. “Eos? You there?”

“Where else would I be?” Despite the smart-ass remark, her voice was quiet. Something she had learnt the hard way.

He ignored the comment. “John’s status?”

“John is currently in REM sleep. No signs of nightmare. Pulse regular, respiration as to be expected, body temperature 36.7 degrees Celsius. John is well, Commander.”

Scott let out a breath. “Thank you, Eos.”

“You’re welcome. Kayo and Mrs Tracy are asleep in their rooms, as is Hiram. Which is a concern, if I may say so, because he left Max on the ceiling.”

A blink. “Again?”

“It would appear so.”

Scott groaned. “Keep him out of the hangars this time.”

“I will try. But you know how he is.”

A grunt and Scott pushed himself off the wall. “I’m going to bed.”

“Good. Virgil was adamant you do exactly that.”

A frown. “Or what?”

“He said ‘or I’ll knock his ass out and drag him there myself’. His tone seemed humorous, however, John said it was a half-truth.” A pause. “Which half, I’m not sure.”

Another grunt. “Both halves, most likely.” To stave off a round of questioning at that, Scott quickly followed up with, “Tracy Island out.”

The house fell quiet after that and he let his shoulders drop, rolling his neck as he made his way to his own quarters. In his rooms lay freedom. A moment where he could just be himself, relax and sleep.

Sleep.

The door clicked shut and exhaustion caught up with him. It was a matter of steps to his bedroom, a modicum of the last of his energy to shove the covers aside, and he let himself fall face first into his pillow.

His body melted into the mattress.

It had been a shitty rescue, but his family was all home, safe, uninjured and resting.

He could let go.

So he did.

-o-o-o-

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #Scott Tracy #Virgil Tracy #nuttyfic reblog #a bit recent I know #but it is fluffy #and has sleepy Virg

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mydisenchantedeulogy · 3 years ago

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Hello Sorrow [Chapter Seven] Ignite [Karl Heisenberg]

Tag List: @courtenbae @unlikelyllamanerd @mylani3110 @imtherain @wrr000

Irina sat in bed, resting against the headboard with her knees pulled close to her chest, considering her options. She had been doing this for hours before the sun rose over the valley in the east, and even now she had no clear concept as to what to do about her arrangement with Heisenberg.

He swore he’d find her if she tried to run. The thought never occurred to her though; she was much too afraid to hide from him. Besides, the village wasn’t big enough to disappear in. The four lords controlled each of the territories bordering the village with the only entrance being to the south, up a snowy mountain trail, to which she considered hiking. But she was too ill-equipped and short of time to do so.

If she could not run or hide from him, her only option was to honor her agreement. In her heart, she knew there was no other way. Besides, Irina saw no harm in bringing him resources; she only wished to know what he needed them for.

Then, there was the matter of what he planned to do with her once he had all he required. Was he going to kill her? Perhaps he would. But not at this time, she imagined. The fact he asked her to get the resources for him implied to Irina that he seldom left the factory.

Giving him a little at a time might be an option she could exploit. But it was too soon to tell.

She sighed. Sitting on this wasn’t making her feel any better. Leaving her warm bed, she gathered some fresh clothes and took a short bath, redressing before she went outside. The sun was high above the clouds, but the weather was frigid. She tightened her torn coat around her body and took the note from her pocket, looking it over again.

Where would she even find some of these items?

Irina hummed. Perhaps the workshop. Leonardo Lupu might be able to help her. She ambled towards the maiden statue and went through the large blue gate in front of his house, knocking on his door.

His daughter Elena answered.

“Irina!? This is a pleasant surprise,” she greeted with a smile.

Looking over Irina’s unkempt appearance, her smile faded.

“What happened to your coat? It looks as though it has been through a grinder.”

She had no idea.

Irina faked a laugh. “I tore it on the washboard; the ridges are worn.”

“And the blood? Where you hurt?”

She had almost forgotten. Raising her arm, she pointed at her other wrist, covered by the sleeve of her blouse.

“Nicked myself on the ridges,” she lied.

Not certain if she believed her or not, Irina cleared her throat.

“Sorry to hear that,” Elena mentioned. “Ours is worn too. Father plans to make a new one.”

Irina hummed. “Where is Mr. Leonardo? I wanted to ask him a question.”

“He’s out, I’m afraid. A tractor broke down on the road ahead and he went to see if he could fix it,” she explained.

I suppose I could look elsewhere, Irina thought, pouting. But where will I find spare chainsaw blades?

Elena puckered her brow. “What did you want to ask him?”

Should I?

Irina saw no harm in telling her.

“I was hoping to ask him about taking some spare scrap from his workshop,” she retorted.

Elena snorted. “By all means, take as much as you like. I’ve been asking him to get rid of it all for some time now.”

“I appreciate it,” Irina said with a smile.

Bringing up her hand, Elena went back into the house, returning with a small key.

“This will get you through the gate,” she mentioned.

Irina grinned. “I’ll bring it back once I’m done.”

She took the key from Elena and wandered over to the large gate at the side of the house, leading into the backyard. Once it was unlocked, she slipped inside and took a look around. Scrap laid in heaps on the snow-covered ground; some rusted and beyond repair.

It was a start.

Irina decided to browse through the workshop first; it sat at the corner of the yard; the door wide open. She eased inside, squirming her nose as the dust in the air irritated her nostrils. Her allergies infrequently bothered her; a little dust and animal dander sometimes made her sneeze, but as of late, since she was locked in a room with dust mites and god knows what else, her tolerance must have weakened. Her eyes teared up.

She’d have to rush.

Clearing them, Irina took the shortlist from her pocket and began her search. She found 3 of the items just inside the workshop: the chainsaw blades, square sheets of perforated metal, and steel hex bolts. Enveloping them in a torn flour sack, she used manila rope to keep them together, and shoved the cardboard box of bolts into her coat pocket, then carried them outside with a grunt of annoyance.

How was she expected to carry all this? The sheet metal alone was too much to tote the distance she had to walk.

Irina huffed and searched the backyard. There had to be something she could use. And there was. Leaning against the gate was a rusted wheelbarrow. She rushed over to it and looked it over. Besides a giant hole in the bucket, it seemed usable. Rolling it over to the workshop, the wheel squeaked and stalled a bit, but at least it moved.

She loaded the scrap, careful not to put too much weight on the side with the hole, then searched for the remaining items on the list. Because she didn’t know what a reactor vent was, and because Heisenberg refused to explain it to her, Irina skipped it and went on to the next item. It took her a bit to find, having to dig it out of a scrap pile, but she checked the small vent fan from her list. It was rusted and she doubted it would work, but because it was on the list, she tossed it into the wheelbarrow.

Before she left, she tossed in a muddy red LED light to replace the one she broke in his factory and rolled the wheelbarrow out into the street, locking the gate back.

When she returned the key to Elena, the young woman gave her a plate of homemade bulz –a crunchy pan-fried dish with a creamy stuffing – that she had leftover and waved to her as she rolled the squeaky wheelbarrow down the muddy road.

Irina followed the path back to Heisenberg’s factory, resting a few times; her hands rattled from the vibration and her back ached from being hunched over so long, but she made it back to the front gate before the sun began to set.

Standing on the other side, she considered leaving the material and returning to her house but decided against it. She had no idea how he’d react. But how did she get him to open the gate?

“Lord Heisenberg,” she shouted. “Are you there? I’ve brought the materials you asked for.”

A loud screech made her jerk in fear as a speaker above the gate came to life.

“Irina … welcome back. I’ve been waiting for you,” Heisenberg declared.

The gate squeaked and slid open, allowing her entrance. She rolled the wheelbarrow up the path, heading towards the front door.

Heisenberg was resting against it, waiting for her, watching her struggle to push it up the wet grassy knoll.

“Having trouble?”

She gave him a heated look, then realized in embarrassment that he wasn’t wearing a shirt. Her eyes darted to the bucket of the wheelbarrow, watching the materials bounce around as she rolled the cart into the barn area of the factory.

Why was he not wearing a shirt? It was frigid as hell outside.

Irina took her snack from the wheelbarrow and ate one as Heisenberg rummaged around through the materials she brought. She sighed in delight; the cheese melted in her mouth and the charred crust on the outside gave it an unbelievably satisfying crunch.

God, Elena could cook so well.

“Not a bad haul,” Heisenberg stated.

He hummed, undoing the manila rope and pulling back the flour sack. “Though I see you did not find everything I asked for.”

“Might have been easier, if you had explained what it was,” Irina retorted, speaking with her mouth full.

She refused to look him in the eye.

“It looks like the cover on a fan, not hard to figure out.”

Irina grunted in annoyance. He was such an asshole. She knocked her boot on the floor, waiting for him to dismiss her.

He sauntered over to her, and stood in her view, taking the LED and tapping it against her hand.

Irina met his eyes, her face heating up at how close he was to her. God, she could feel the warmth from his body.

“You did well enough,” he mentioned with a grin. “Good news is, I still have use for you.”

How reassuring.

She took an uneasy breath, watching him in interest as he took one of the rounded snacks from the plate, shoving it into his mouth, cleaning his finger. Her heart pounded in her chest.

What in the hell was that?

Heisenberg hummed. “Not bad.”

He took the plate from her and went back over to the wheelbarrow, dragging it by the handle into the next room.

She took an eager glance at him. He wasn’t a bad-looking man; too much of a smart ass though, and a monster.

“Are you coming?”

Irina grunted. “Can’t I go home?”

“By all means,” she heard him say. “But you might not make it back before nightfall.”

She huffed a sigh. He had a point, though she’d rather take her chances in the dark than stay in that room again. Her nose itched thinking about it.

“I think I may be allergic to you,” Irina shouted.

She followed him through the doors and into the cargo bay, where he was unloading the sheet metal.

“Boo fucking hoo,” he retorted.

Irina rolled her eyes. “Can I at least have a proper bed to sleep on?”

“You can have mine, now come the fuck on, or go home,” he snapped, moving into the lift.

She knew better, but she was far too tired to care and followed him into the lift. The chances of him killing her while she slept were slim, or so she hoped.

What better chance to test her worth?

He said it himself, he still had use for her. And at that moment, something in her ignited.

#karl heisenberg #resident evil #heisenberg x oc #resident evil village

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wokestraightpuffy · 4 years ago

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Hallo, i hope you are alright and that my ask aren’t annoying but I wanted to ask do you have any c!puffy headcannons? —🤡

YOURE NOT ANNOYING AT ALL !!! NEVER THINK THAT ILU VERY MUCH. MUAH /p

as for c!puffy headcanons, i am not the best person to ever organize their thoughts properly but ill try my best >:’D

ahaha. this got. super complex and way too long and more of like an introspective study to puffy now instead of harmless fun headcanons so, uh. under read more <3 (also reminder this is all /rp and /dsmp)

* i like to think that she has a hero complex, but its a bit different since she never really sees herself as an ‘important’ part of the story, not the main character but a support one, hence ‘im fine with being the side character’ or how she’s said she doesnt care what happens to her and would gladly sacrifice(?) herself if there werent other people she had to protect. girl u need therapy urself <3

* though very open with how she feels and never afraid to say when someone/something is upsetting her, ‘opening up’ is still a whole mountain climb for her, apparently. like, she’d rant about the egg, get mad at the eggpire, let off some steam by committing arson or exploding stuff, she’ll rarely ever talk about how much the stuff that upset her actually HURT her. does that make sense? LIKE, she’ll lash out, she’ll get mad, she’ll take NO SHIT thrown at her face, but to show the kinda vulnerability of dealing with that? to cry about it talk about those feelings with someone? I think she’d rather eat her own foot lol

* adding onto the thing above, she doesnt necessarily actually realize this about herself. less of actively doing it and rather growing... used to the ‘cycle of violence’ in the smp as they call it. and the fact that rarely have people really asked, that no one’s actually available for that, w her losing her closest friends, bad and ant, sam being busy w the warden stuff... and niki. yeah. there’s foolish, but i doubt she’d ever see venting to someone she considers her son appealing

* also. puffy is just sometimes... really bad at conveying sadness. i think she’s a rare crier. id go as far to say that shes even more emotionally constipated than dream, lol (but maybe not while the guy’s in his prison arc) and that she’d be the type of person to tell you its okay to cry but beat herself up over something if she let a tear slip in a heated moment

* speaking of sadness. she’ll only ever actually Be Sad if she’s alone or with someone she doesnt necessarily care the opinions of. yknow how she mourned for tommy and blamed herself? those dialogue bits? yeah, those are only times shed actually be vulnerable

* puffy’s go to response to the egg and how its fucked up her relationship w her friends is pure fury. but, going off of her line about ‘failing bad and ant’ i like to think that she probably hates herself the most about it. THAT IS A STRONG WORD LOL BUT YEAH. she yells and curses and gets mad, but sometimes i wonder if the words she had spat before were more directed to herself

* THIS GIRL HAS SELF-IDENTITY PROBLEMS. CAN WE GET A HELL YEAH FOR THAT CHAT? outside of having no goddamn clue about where she came from, how she got here and who she even is, scrounging up a role for herself in a server with a war on the background and traumatized kids got her resignedly coerced into thinking that she is only a Parent. Only good enough when she’s actually doing something Useful for people. SO. when she finds that ship? of having a crew and having a curse? OF FINDING OUT SHE MIGHT HAVE/ HAVE HAD A MOM THATS WAITING FOR HER? the sense of control she has on herself is absolutely crushed. shattered, and she’s left to pick up the pieces w no one to talk abt it with <3

* adding onto the above, it’s why the line ‘I’m supposed to be mama puffy. me.’ hurts me so much! so yes! please cry with me :D

* also to add more on the fact that she thinks she’s only worth something when she’s being useful, puffy literally contemplated leaving the server, thinking that it wouldnt matter leaving since no one really needs her anyway, since she’s failed so many people. bad and ant, tommy, dream. shes said how foolish can take care of himself on how tubbo and ranboo have each other, how she and niki have drifted so far away from each that it might as well be a break up.

HOOOOOOOOOO OBOY . anon youve really given me the perfect chance to ramble huh? sorry for the rather incomprehensible brainrot, here’s more lighthearted headcanons about puffy asdhfkd

* she cannot stand still sometimes. she always has to be doing something extra, walking when the prime path is right there? shed rather go through tedious little holes or hop and balance onto fences to get where shes going. she’ll mindlessly fix up the path when there are holes or mismatched wood, and one time went on a long, long LONG journey cleaning up the paths tommy purposely DESTROYED near lmanburg and even added cobblestone sidings which werent there before

* puffys a bit of a sentimental person. writing in her log to clear her thoughts sometimes and cared enough to try and preserve lmanburg with the glass sheet and trying to find possible surviving artifacts of history to respect it, even though she’s never been a part of it. its also why, when doomsday happened and lmanburg got permanently poofed, she began to appreciate the buildings that are still standing and began taking more pics

* she’s not used to being... what do you call it, um, cared for? she’d deflect compliments sometimes, when shes having a particular bad day, like, she’d laugh nervously and change the subject, sometimes she’d outright deny it, most days she’d jokingly say ‘staphhh it’ and add a very genuine thanks. my point being is, do something for puffy that is mildly nice and she’d keep that moment in her heart forever.

* also funny story regarding the above. u know how karl is notorious for stealing her materials? and how puffy was contemplating doing something in retaliation for them? karl says hi for once when she joins the server and she goes ‘alright fine youre safe for saying hi’ LOL THIS WAS PROBABLY A BIT META WISE but something about this implying that the bare minimum or LESS is enough to make puffy forgive someone is very sad and funny at the same time for me. girl really said ‘oh you said hi to me? thats nice all the crimes youve ever done towards me is now forgiven. <3’ (this is a bit of an exaggeration on my part, ofc, i just think its funny LMAO)

* ironically, despite being the ‘captain’, whenever riding a boat with someone, she prefers being on the backseat and letting them drive. ig shes just there for the ride i suppose, her and her uber drivers :3

* she either has a rather unhealthy obsession with baked potatoes or she just doesnt wanna waste eret’s massive potato farm

* idc what cc!puffy says is c!puffy will always and forever be 5′2″ in my HEART. u are the shortest member, u cannot change this <3

* shes really fond of animals/ neutral mobs. she often baby talks to them and they help boost her mood a lot when shes having a bad day :D

* up to this day, the little secret rooms she’s created around the server have all been yet to be discovered, unless the one under bad’s house has been found. she rarely ever really keeps tabs on them, and more often than not they are just collecting dust. she still visits sometimes and cleans them up ofc

* she still genuinely thinks dream can change. cc!puffy’s line about that, ‘i’m his last hope.’ really makes me think about this a lot.

* ive seen people talk abt it a bit but the headcanon that puffy acts as the server mom to fill the ‘void’ of her missing her mom makes me cry at night /hj

* she really likes her rainbow onesie! i headcanon that eret gave her that along w the sunglasses, but she started wearing that less when she found her old captains uniform. shes never really said why, though, and nobody ever really bothered to ask

* god bless this woman but sometimes the server members get on her nerves sometimes so she goes out of her way to traverse along far away from the main community to maybe commit a few crimes. let off some steam. these take a few days but she always returns

i probably have a lot more hcs but i cant remember them >_> THIS IS A LOT ANYWAY. HOPE U ENJOYED MY BRAIN VOMIT. IF U READ THIS FAR ILU THANK U

if there are mistakes it is bc i am crying and cannot see my keyboard and also i am sleep deprived /hj

#captain puffy #tea speaks #god this is so long the brainrot is concerning ANYWAY #clownon

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mydisasteracademia · 4 years ago

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SFW Alphabets: Tomura Shigaraki

Y’all know the drill.

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Depends on how much he likes you, and whether the rest of the League is around. Usually to show his affection he listens to you more, looks you in the eyes, and takes your input when needed, and sometimes he might rest his elbow on your shoulder. When you’re alone, however, he can get really clingy. He loves resting his head in your lap and snuggling into you.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

He definitely talks to you a lot. Complains his ass off about missions with the League, maybe asks advice for dealing with a specific problem. he can be fairly touchy-feely with you, maybe leaning in over your shoulder or sitting with his side touching yours. If needed, he’ll grab your fingers while walking. You two probably hit it off on an online chatroom, probably talking about how much heroes suck, and when you met up in person, he was shocked at how pretty you were.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

You know he’s hugging on you as soon as you’re alone. Tomura is private about romantic affection, and he has a lot of it to give. Since this is his first relationship, his instinct is to press and see what he can get away with. As soon as you get into a good rhythm together, he likes pulling you into his lap while he’s doing something just to rest his chin on your shoulder.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

As much as he likes you, I doubt he’d be keen on settling down just yet. Remember, he still has hero society to burn to the ground. I doubt he can cook and clean that well, so he’ll need some help with that. He keeps things fairly tidy, surprisingly.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

He’d be incredibly upset while he does so, and he might just pace about in front of you and rant about how conflicted his is, but eventually he’ll tell you that you need to break up. He’s either paranoid of Sensei disapproving, or Sensei outright told him that he needs to let you go in order to focus on his goals. He’s very upset about it, but doesn’t want to go against what Sensei says (in the beginning, anyway).

F = Fiancé(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

First off, you can’t exactly legally get married. If you did, he’d probably get arrested considering his status as a villain. It doesn’t mean he doesn’t think about it from time to time in the context of you being his cute little house-spouse, ready to greet him whenever he comes home from a long day of dismantling hero society as a whole. He really thinks about it for a while, especially after you offhandedly mention actually committing to something like that. But he’s still not ready to settle just yet. Help him destroy society as you know it and maybe he’ll reconsider.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

It depends. In front of others, he’s not gonna treat you any better than them. He’ll treat you like any other comrade. But when you’re alone, he’s loads more gentle with you. You’re special to him, of course, and he wants you to know it especially when you’re away from prying eyes.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

He likes hugs, but he doesn’t like initiating them. If someone like Toga or Twice hugs him, he doesn’t push them away, but he doesn’t exactly hug back. If you happen to hug him in front of others, usually it’s a quick catch-and-release. When you’re alone, though, if you hug, he doesn’t let go. He loves your touch.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

He’s very stubborn and doesn’t say it right away. You’ll end up saying it first, and it gets him thinking. Does he love you? Eventually, though, after a while into your relationship, he says it to you when he thinks you’re asleep.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

He gets incredibly jealous, very easily. You’re his s/o, dammit, and he doesn’t want other people to intrude on his turf! He may have matured greatly past his Season 1 demeanor, but wherever you’re involved, he tends to get heated. If Dabi happens to rest an arm across your shoulders, he tends to get frustrated. If Compress steals your attention for too long, he’s fairly quick to drag you away.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

His kisses are purposeful and rough (due to his lips). It depends on his mood. Sometimes he’s content to give you a lip peck, sometimes he cups your cheeks and deepens it until you both pull away panting. Kissing, to him, is special. And he wants every one to be special.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Not exactly horrible around children, but not great, either. Since most children tend to idolize heroes, he can’t be around them for long without needing a break to take out his frustration on something (probably one of poor Kurogiri’s shotglasses). Depending on the child, though, he can be more patient than he is with most adults because he understands them more. Especially with abuse victims. (Careful that you don’t end up taking in a victim of parental abuse as your own.)

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

He likes to laze about in bed in the morning, just holding you and pressing slow kisses across your shoulders and back. When you eventually need to get up, he likes to watch as you go about getting ready for the day.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

As soon as you’re alone, he’s sitting down with you in his lap. You scroll through your phone with him, maybe play an RPG together, just as long as you get to lie in bed together he’s down for it. The two of you end up falling asleep tangled in one another’s arms (careful that his are far away from you if he’s not wearing gloves).

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Tomura doesn’t do heart-to-hearts unless it’s talking about how your ideologies align. He’s extremely reluctant to talk about his own past with you unless it’s singing Sensei’s praises as a teacher, but sometimes he just has to vent to someone about how shitty his childhood was. In those moments, as you run your fingers through his hair, he tells you about his bastard father and doormat family, his sister, and his dog. If he cries a little, you’ll never tell.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

He’s gotten a lot better about keeping his temper in check, but he still has those moments when he gets angry and sulky. No matter what, he just can’t keep his anger at bay whenever he’s around someone gushing about their favorite heroes, especially not when it’s All Might. He doesn’t like it when someone insults his abilities and underestimates him, either. All the better reason to dust them where they stand.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

He tries to remember every single little thing that he can about you. Like Midoriya, he likes to analyze you and find out for himself what you like so that he can surprise you sometimes. He has a full notebook about things he’s noticed you tend to gravitate towards, as well as things you’ve stated are your favorite.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

His favorite memory is when you first healed him. You were relatively new to the League (a find by Toga), and while he didn’t trust you yet, you had panicked when you noticed a gash in his side and immediately sat him down to try and wrap the wound. Your tender care as you wrapped him up touched him, and from that point on he paid more attention to you.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

He is extremely protective of you, nearly to the point of being obsessed. He would do anything to keep you safe. He hates being viewed as weak, but when you have to come to his aid, he appreciates it, even if he feels like he has to show off a little more to offset the nagging feeling of being inadequate.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

The two of you don’t do things as a couple often, but when you do, he puts in a lot of effort into making your dates go perfectly. He gets frustrated when things don’t go to plan, but you often manage to distract him. He puts a lot of thought into gifts for you, only picking the things he knows you like.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Aside from his scratching (which is a compulsion due to his Quirk), he can be really judgmental and sarcastic, especially when he’s in a bad mood. He tends to be a little manipulative and when you get him angry, you need to give him room before apologizing. He feels betrayed easily and requires a lot of convincing for him to let go of his hurt feelings, but he still remembers.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Before he met you, he didn’t put a lot of stock into his appearance. But afterwards, he started feeling self-conscious about his skin and face. He knows he can’t do much to help it, but it’s still frustrating when he looks in the mirror and sees how badly-damaged his skin is. He gets very insecure next to you.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Before you? No, he was totally fine. After you? Definitely. Tomura is a very lonely person at heart and while he didn’t realize he wanted a person at his side before, now he doesn’t think he can live without you next to him.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Likes to go into stores and discreetly dust All Might merch. It’s surprisingly good stress relief.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Literally anything heroic. It’s one thing to be nice and kind to people; he can definitely handle that after all the shit he’s gone through. But actually striving to be like the pro heroes? He wouldn’t be able to be around you. You can’t be judgmental either, because he knows he’s not the ideal type of guy to be around, and hearing it from you too would get old very quick.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

He’s plagued with mild insomnia and has a hard time falling asleep at night. With you, though, he’s been able to calm down enough to get a reasonable amount of sleep at night just by sleeping next to you. Still lazes about and lightly dozes in the morning, though.

#sfw alphabet #tomura shigaraki #shigaraki tomura

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shikonotama · 4 years ago

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Hello @celisart, I was your @noragamisecretsantas this year! I hope you have some sweet holidays this year 🎄 🎅

You told me, that you’d like something Yatori related. So I decided to write something about them. I hope you like it. 🤗

Silent night

The days had gotten a lot colder recently. Even during the sunny parts of the day, the warm sunbeams just barely made it all the way to the ground, therefore not able to properly heaten neither animals nor humans anymore. Despite the weather being close to freezing the whole day, you’d never consider to call it bad at all. Only the lack of pure white snow throughout the city’s streets caused all the children to stay at home, meeting their friends or playing games inside their parent’s house. Adults and elders on the other hand were busy making their way to the city and back, trying to get everything ready for the upcoming holydays at least.

Just in between all those people walking straight to their destinated place to get what they needed and then hurrying back to their houses, a young man ran through the shopping mile; not even sparing a glance on one single storefront even once. His outfit did not quite fit the weather nor was it suited for celebrating the upcoming holidays in the slightest. Despite wearing a pair of brown boots, he did not wear a coat or jacket. All that covered his body was a black tracksuit and a greyish scarf tied around his neck.

His vision was sharp and clear, his mind focused on something ahead, as if he was chasing after a thief that stole his wallet – no one around seemed to notice neither him nor the one he was chasing after, though.

“Yato, it’s no good! If we continue like this, it will-…”, the voice of a young boy reached the young man’s ears, even though there was no one right beside him.

»I know…«, he murmured, biting his lips. His fingers already felt numb and the cold wind blowing in his face caused his nose and cheeks to turn slightly red. »… but that’s the last one.«

“You sure ‘bout that?”

»Tzck…«, was all he had to add before he jumped straight off the ground and landed on top of the next building’s chimney with no struggle at all. As he stood up there, his bright blue eyes were directed to a point at about two hundred meters straight ahead of him. The bright sunlight was reflected from two blades he held – each in one hand. Their handles were both wrapped in bandages that didn’t seem to be tightened very well.

»Get ready, Yukine.«, was all he added to their conversation, as a big squirrel shaped cloud of dust rose just where Yato had been staring at the whole time. »We’re gonna finish this with just one blow.«

»Smells good!«, the big and cloudy animal turned itself around to face the black haired man, still standing on top of the chimney, firmly holding both blades. Just one moment later, without any further indication, Yato lifted himself high into the air. In the blink of an eye, he then rushed straight to the Ayakashi facing him, directing both blades to the squirrels head.

»You who would desecrate this land of the rising sun! With my advent, I, God Yato, lay waste with the Sekki... and expel thy vast defilement! – Rend!«

His two blades cut right through the Ayakashi’s body, leaving nothing but blurry dust behind. With ease, the self-proclaimed god stood up in the middle of all those busy people that were still walking by as if nothing had happened the past few minutes.

»Good job, Yukine. You’ve become really strong. Just as expected from my Hafuri.«, he grinned proudly, as both blades started to glow.

»You should be more careful, you know? If we only made the slightest mistake, some of those people might get hurt. You do know that, don’t you?!«, a blond boy had appeared right before Yato’s eyes, giving him a warning look before he sighted in relief. ‘After all, everything went well, didn’t it?’

»I knew you could do that, that’s why.«, answered Yato still grinning, then rubbing his hands to get them warm, at least a bit warmer than icy. »Let’s get going. It’s freezing cold. I’m sure Daikoku got us something to warm up again!« Again, Yukine sighted, tightened his jacket and followed Yato on their way back to Daikoku’s and Kofuku’s house, where they had been living for quite a while now – more than one year to be precise.

Kofuku and Daikoku: the goddess of poverty and her Shinki that was able to open up a vent that summons a huge amount of gloom. But thankfully, Kofuku was not the kind of god that got into a fight very easy. On top of that, Daikoku did not allow her to leave the house and explore the town or other places frequented by many people. She was not allowed to leave very often and never on her own, because her Shinki knew things would not turn out very well, as his master was known to cause disaster, wherever she went. Nevertheless, both of them lived a more or less quiet life, running a small store during the day that was very popular among children and passersby.

As it was already around half past five in the afternoon when Yato and Yukine made it back, the store was already closed for today.

»We’re back!«, Yato shouted while Yukine already closed the door behind them and they both immediately got rid of their shoes. »Time for something warm to eat!«

»Ah – Yato-chan and Yukki!«, a high-pitched and happy voice echoed through the house, right before one of the doors burst open. A young woman with bright pink hair and a big smile on her face showed up to greet them. »You’re late.«

»I’m sure he got them into some serious trouble – AGAIN!«, continued the deep voice of a man from behind her.

»Tse… what do you mean, ‘AGAIN’?«, Yato snorted and hastily turned his head to the left with a sour face.

»Common you guys, don’t start a fight on Christmas eve!«, Kofuku intervened with a smile, while she walked to the two incomers and grinned, then she observed them both and continued with a small amount of worry in her voice: »It’s gotten quite cold, didn’t it?«

»Well… yeah.«

»Doesn’t matter quite that much, does it? Just need, some fresh meal and a beer, and everything will be fine already.«

»And why do you think, you will get any of those?«, Daikoku wondered, watching every single one of Yato’s steps, as he made his way to the kitchen door.

»Ah, common! Don’t tell me you didn’t prepare some delicious food for tonight? No need to lie, Daikoku, I can smell it without any doubt!«, Yato giggled and stretched out his hand to open the door right in front of him. Daikoku on the other hand, crossed his arms in front of his chest, a mean grin on his face. »Don’t have to lie. Why would I even bother to cook for a freeloader like you?!«

»Well then… explain – THAT!«, just in time, Yato pushed the door open and stumbled.

»H-Hiyori?!?«, both Yato and Yukine looked at the brown haired girl, standing in front of the kitchen unit. When she heard the two of them shouting out her name, she turned around. After the first moment of surprise vanished from her face, a big smile returned before she answered: »Welcome home.«

»What are you doing here?«, Yato asked, still standing there as if he did not know how to react.

»She came here around one hour ago.«, Kofuku explained while Hiyori was still busy with something neither of the four was able to get a glimpse of.

»Okay, ehm… and why exactly are you here?«, he wondered, not having moved the slightest.

»She is the only one helping out, so don’t complain!« Daikoku was the one raising his voice this time.

»I’m not complaining at all! And by the way: We were busy, you know? Hunting Ayakashi to keep the people save on Christmas!«

»That does really look delicious, Hiyori!«, Yukine interrupted and stepped right beside her to get a closer look on what she was doing.

»Thanks, Yukine.«

»So… do you still need help…?«, he wanted to know, unsure what to do next.

»I’m fine, thank you. I just helped out Daikoku. But I think you could set the table?«

»Sure.«

While Yukine walked over to the other side of the kitchen to grab the dishes, Yato finally entered the room himself, walked straight to the refrigerator and grabbed a can of beer. He immediately opened it up and took a big gulp. With a satisfied grin on his face and his eyes half closed, he turned around and said: »Ahhh~ that’s what I needed! I’m sure with all the delicious food Hiyori made for us, it’s gonna be the best Christmas eve so far!« Hiyori let out a soft giggle: »You’ll always love celebrating, whatever it may be, right?«

»Wh-… y-yeah, guess so.«, mumbled Yato and from one second to the other his big satisfied grin had vanished from his face. He did not even manage to maintain direct eye contact with Hiyori. Instead, he put the can back on and took another big gulp from it.

»Whatever, just call me, when your preparations are done. Can’t wait to taste it!«

»You could help us, at least with the dishes, Yato!«, said Yukine, not even trying to cover the slight anger in his voice, as Yato walked past him. He did not reply anything, just raised his Hand into the air, before disappearing from everybody’s view.

»Argh… he can be such a jerk!«

»Calm down, Yukine. We are almost done with the preparations. You too can wait in the living room. Or maybe you should take a bath or at least a shower first? I’m sure it would help you to get warm again, plus I don’t want you to catch a cold.«

»Yeah, she’s right, Yukki. Just take your sweet time.«, Kofuku smiled, »I will help with the dish-….«

She wasn’t even able to finish this sentence properly, because halfway through it, she grabbed the plates, just to let go of them only one moment later. Neither of the tree bystanders was able to react quickly enough to prevent everything from scattering after hitting the floor.

»I told you to leave the preparations to Hiyori and me, didn’t I?«, Daikoku shook his head, while Kofuku shook of the surprised expression on her face and grinned again. »Oookay!« Her Shinki sighted and started to clean up the mess she was responsible for.

After leaving the others, Yato climbed up the stairs and entered the small room he and Yukine were given by Kofuku to live in. He walked across the room to reach the big window over on the other side. He then opened it up and shortly after he climbed outside, the can of beer still in one of his hands, to reach the roof. It was not that unusual for him to be up here. Sometimes, when he could not sleep and did not want to disturb the boy sleeping in the same room, he climbed here.

It had gotten quite a bit colder since he and Yukine arrived at the house, but for now, he did not feel cold at all. With ease, the god found his way over the tiles, right beside the house’s chimney, and sat down on the ridge. From up here, one had a great view at the city and thus it was already dark outside, all the sparkling lights. The latter were even brighter than normal tonight, because a lot of Christmas decoration had been put up.

‘This time, it’s gonna be different, huh?’, he thought and could not hide the fact, that his lips formed to a decent but honest smile. Throughout the last years he found himself wondering from time to time what it was like for all those families and friends to have a proper feast.

»Well… not too long ago we had this flashmob for Yukine’s first birthday, hm? … « ‘… that was a lot of fun, too!’ Yato tried to suppress a short giggle, while placing the can he just drank of between his legs and looked up into the clear sky. There was no cloud anywhere so all the stars above shined brightly tonight and even if the sky changed since Yato was born a long time ago, it never failed to touch his heart.

‘Damn… they really do take a lot of time. What are they even doing down there?!’, he wondered while listening to all the strange sounds and some yelling in between. »Well… whatever.«, he shrugged and put the can back up to his lips.

»There you are.«, the calm voice of a woman could be heard. Shortly after that, Hiyori appeared at the edge of the roof. It looked like she had hastily wrapped a warm jacket around her body, because none of the buttons were closed. So she tried to keep the jacket from going wild with her left hand and used her right to not lose her balance.

Quickly, Yato gulped down the beer in his mouth and sat up straight.

»I thought you’d be in your room, being lazy till we’d be done with all the preparations, but seems I was wrong, hm?«, she continued to talk while struggling to properly climb to the top.

»So… you’re complaining, too?! We fought countless of Ayakashi the whole day!«, Yato replied but as he looked into her face and seeing her smile he got confused. ‘She’s not complaining?’

»Yeah, I know that. You both are trying hard to help, by slaying the calamity. I’m sure many children can celebrate a great feast just because you two were there today.«

»You think so?«

»Sure!«

»Huh? … Mhm!«, Yato answered with a nod, still sitting on the roof, his eyes focused on the girl that carefully made one step after another to come closer. One may say her words were just a praise to make a friend feel better, but Yato knew by the way she looked into his eyes that it was not just her comforting him, but an honest answer how she felt about his latest actions. Maybe his goal, to become a god of fortune, finally came within reach! Coming to this conclusion, even if the roof was only barely lit, his cheeks turned visibly red. It may be due to the cold that started to affect his body, but why had his nose not gotten red as well?

Yato reached out for the can to get the last gulp and took his eyes of Hiyori, when he heard her scream and raised his head again.

‘Damn!’

In the blink of an eye he jumped up, the can fell out of his hand, rolled over the tiles and hit the ground. Not noticing any of this, he reached out his hand to grab hers, »Gotcha!«, he sighted in relief.

»Thank y-… Whoaaa…!«, but the roof was slippery and cold and because he already lost his balance too, the only way to prevent the both of them from falling was to pull her back in his direction.

»Ow…«, his back, as well as his head, were knocked against the roof tiles underneath, but as he was a god it did not bother him that much.

»Are you hurt?«, he asked the girl whose hand he was still holding. When he had pulled her back against his body, the both of them had fallen backwards with his back being hit against the roof and his body softening the impact of her fall. Now, as she tried to straighten herself up, their eyes met again, quite close.

»I- I’m fine, sorry… I’m not used to climb up houses while still in my human body.«, she replied with an excusive smile.

»Idiot… that’s dangerous!«, Yato breathed out slowly.

»I’m sorry.«, Hiyori repeated her apology in a more serious way than before, by lowering her voice. After a moment of silence, she spoke again: »Thanks for saving me, Yato. Not just tonight but throughout the whole year.«

Her face was pretty close to his. Who knows if he had heard her, had her face been any further apart, as she spoke quite softly. Her big, purple eyes looked directly into his, some strands of her long brown hair fell onto his face and there was no way he would be able to look anywhere else now. He did not even know how long they had been like this now. Some seconds? Several minutes? Maybe a whole hour had passed?

It had never felt that difficult to come up with some words to say to her. He was not even able to get a grasp on his own thoughts.

»You-…«, was all he was able to come up with, but as he saw the silhouette of her face, surrounded by the pale moonlight and a beautiful gentle smile her lips had formed into, he was no longer able to continue even that.

»Thank you, god Yato – god of fortune.«, she giggled, but he could tell that she totally meant what she said. ‘Fortune…?’ He had no time to think about that little word any longer. Just before he could sort out his thoughts, he felt something slightly tickling and soft touching his right cheek. At the same moment his heart burst out and started to beat uncontrollably fast. The Doki-Doki that echoed in his ears made it impossible for him to listen to anything else. Meanwhile, Hiyori placed her left palm on his right cheek while watching him closely. Her fingertips had only touched his skin for a split second, when her smile turned onto a slightly worried look.

»Are you okay? Your cheek fells chilly...«

»Y- yeah… I’m not cold at all.« ‘Not at all!’

»… and your face is all red. Maybe you caught a cold while staying outside all day?«, Hiyori continued without listening to his words. Yato shook his head. »I’m a god, remember? We don’t get ill.«

»Is that so?«

»Sure!«

After his quick reply, her features softened again. She kneed on the roof, then stood up and grabbed his hand to lift him up, too.

»Let’s head inside anyways. I’m sure something warm to eat is better than standing in the cold, be it humans or gods?!« He nodded still trying to get back control over his heartbeat. Hiyori smiled in return and turned around to make her way back to the lower floors. Before she could make any step forwards, Yato reached out for her right wrist to turn her back in his direction again.

»Wait a minute…«

»What is it?«

»…« Yato looked at her with his deep blue eyes trying to find the right words he was looking for. Almost as if he was a shy teenager.

»Yato?«

He closed his eyes for a mere second. As their eyes met again, a fresh but gentle gust blew through their hair. »Merry Christmas, Hiyori.«

»Merry Christmas, Yato.«, she smiled back, when she suddenly opened her eyes widely and directed her gaze into the sky right on top of them.

»It’s snowing…«, she whispered, but despite his heart still running wild, he could hear every single word she spoke, »… just in time.« There were not many snowflakes falling down but those that came close to them danced beautifully through the sky as if they were to celebrate with everyone.

»Let’s get back down, shall we?«

»Yeah.«, Yato agreed as she took his hand and kind of dragged him back down.

They stood in front of the foot of the stairs, so technically right in front of the living-room door, when they heard some strange noises from inside followed by two male voices giving the impression of not knowing how to deal with the situation any longer.

»Jeez… what are they even doing?«, Yato wondered, meanwhile Hiyori had walked to the door to open it. When she was just about to do so, all the lights went out and left a confused Yato standing in the dark corridor. »What happened? … Hiyori?! … Yukine?!«, he screamed, but got no answer at all.

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Yato opened his eyes and jumped to his feet. ‘Hiyori?!’ He looked from left to right, but neither Hiyori nor Yukine were anywhere to be found. »What the-…?«

He moved two steps forwards, but did not notice the body of a young man lying right beside him and stumbled over.

»You-…«, he started to complain, but shortly after he hushed. ‘Kazuma?’

When he recognised the Shinki lying on the ground, he once more looked around. He was not in Kofuku’s house anymore but in one of the city’s back roads. ‘A dream?’ The cold that had increased over night crawled over his back and made him shiver a bit.

After looking down again to check whether Kazuma was still asleep, Yato put his hand into one of the pockets of his tracksuit. With a sigh of relief on his lips, he put his hand back out again and looked at a small statue in the shape of a capybara, Hiyori made for him some days ago. A saddened smile appeared on his face, as he closed his eyes.

»I’m sorry...«, he whispered, holding the sculpture in both hands, tightly pushing it to his chest, »… we shall meet again. I promise.«

#noragami #Yato #Hiyori #Yatori #noragamisecretsanta2020 #merry christmas noragami #Merry Christmas 2020 #feels like forever since they talked

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undercoverwizardfanfiction · 4 years ago

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A Winter Night: A ROTTMNT Holiday story

Rating:G

Word Count;2358

for: @snakeeyesdraws

Characters: Donnie, Leo, Kendra

pairings: [takes breath, pulls out sword] LISTEN

update; i accidentally uploaded the draft the first time ^^’ i fixed though this is the finished version

An overtly saturated neon sign of a Santa selling sandals catches him in the corner of his eye. He uses his forearm to protect his aching eyes as he passed the sign. When he passes the blinding neon of Santa, the turtle takes a deep breath, a soft mist escaping his mouth. Honestly, he is grateful the streets aren’t more crowded. But not for his slowly numbing hands. He stuffs his hands into his unlined pockets and moves forward. Grateful more than ever that he had updated Shelldon with a heating unit so he didn’t have to weigh himself down with a heavy coat. It was making the walk to Hueso’s a bit more tolerable. He’d have to remember to update his brothers’ gear to include a heating unit like his. Course knowing them they’d probably use it to heat up marshmallows in their pockets and that was a mess he was NOT going to clean up for-

He is so wrapped up in the nightmarish scenario of having to clean marshmallows out of circuitry when a loud shriek of anger followed by a trash can flying past his line of vision causes him to jump on one foot with a shriek of fear

“Stupid AIDEN!!”

It takes Donnie a moment, and another trash can flying by his vision to realize he is not the source of anger, or in danger. He blinks and peers down the alley before having to duck in time for another trashcan to get stomped in the middle with enough strength to crunch it in half before, in a mixture of amazement he blinks. “Kendra?”

In a feral rage Kendra stomps a trashcan nearly in half before swerving around and glaring at him snarling. Her thick purple hair twisted in half ragged tangles, her beret lay on the ground as though she had thrown it to the ground before deciding that wasn’t enough to help vent her rage. Her half-crazed eyes narrowed at him. “What do YOU want?!” she bites and for a moment Donnie wishes he hadn’t stopped, “Are you here to ruin my day again?! Wreck my plans?!”

“Um,” Don blames his lack of ability to come up with a snappy come back on his even more urgent need to survive the next five seconds, or at least not end up like that trashcan. ”Are you doing something that should be stopped?”

Kendra narrows her eyes at him. “NO.”

“Do you HAVE an evil plan that I should stop? Again?” With a snarl Don worries he might have said the wrong thing.

But then she lets out an angry sigh, “No, not now.”

“Um.” He really didn’t want to end up a Donnie shaped hole in the wall, “Then, no?”

Kendra narrows her eyes at him, Donnie could barely see the little puffs of steam burst out of her nose like a bull trying to figure out if he was a matador worth charging. But then she lets out an angry growl, ”Fine, go away then,” she says, crouching down and yanking the trash can back into a standing position kicking at it a few more times to try and un-dent it. Donnie glances back at the trash cans in the road and sighs. He pulled off his gloves, cursing the fact that he didn’t bring any extra rubber gloves, and pulls one of the trash cans off the street. Kendra glares up at him before eyeing the trashcan in confusion, “What do you want?”

“To not see cars hit trash cans? Is that supposed to be a hard question?” he asks, again berating himself when Kendra narrows her eyes at him, but lets him stand his trash can next to the one she had ‘undented’, she doesn’t thank him when he drags by the other one too. But to be honest he doesn’t really expect it. But he does finally notice that, even though she traded out her leggings for sweatpants, she’s lacking her purple dragons' jacket and is wearing a dark grey sweater and boots. All signs indicated she had not been planning on being outside in December and is using all the anger she had been trying out on the trash cans to not shiver, “Where are you going?”

“What’s it to you?” she demands.

Donnie raises his hands in mock surrender. “Honestly? I was just trying to help but if you’re going to keep acting like a jerk, I’ll-“ he wasn’t sure how he was going to finish that thought. ‘Walk away?’ ‘Blog about it angrily later?’ But it ended with someone shouting ‘heads up’ and something hard slamming into the back of his head, his vision exploding in bright colors and the breaking of a snowball contacting with his head. Off balance he finds his world spinning and himself on his knees, hands holding his head trying to make sense of the pain and his disorientation.

“Hey!” Kendra’s voice was far away, but that could be ‘cause she had stormed over to yell at the kids who had thrown the snow ball. “The hells your problem?! That was basically an ice ball you weebs.” Don could barely make out their mumbled sheepish apology. He pulls off his hat and touched the soaking bandana underneath. Any hope that it had just been snow went out the window when he drew his bloody fingers off his head.

“Holy-“ Sounds like Kendra was back, his vision was spinning so bad that he assumed the spinning purple mass by his side was her. “Hey how many fingers am I holding up?!” she said holding out her hand. He could barely make out her fingers but gave a weak, “Four?” with strength surprising for someone her size, she took his arm and lifted him to his feet, pulling his arm over her neck, “Come on there’s a hospital nearby-“

“NO,” he answers quickly.

“Are you kidding me you’re HEAD is BLEEDING.”

“And I'm a giant talking turtle which do you think will matter more to a hospital staff?!” He often wondered how Yokai managed in the city without access to a hospital. He had been meaning to ask Hueso about-. He blinks, there was no way he could let Kendra take him home. But he was already close to the pizza place “I have a place I can go. But you can’t go with me-“

“Again, your HEAD is BLEEDING,” she snaps. “I’ll take you where you need to go but I won't get any closer got it?” Donnie knew she wouldn’t take no for answer and only answered with a sigh and a nod. She pulls harder on the arm wraps over her neck and took more of his weight. Despite their height difference he barely touches the ground which only added more to the feeling of being disoriented.

“Thanks,” he muttered weakly.

“Don’t thank me til we get there.” Donnie struggles to keep his eyes open but his swirling vision forces him to keep his eyes closed, a hand slaps his face lightly. “Hey stay awake nerd.”

“Pot calling the kettle-“ Donnie bit off the end of his statement as he tried not to dry heave. He could feel Kendras frozen bare arms through his coat and feels even worse for being out in the first place. “H-Hold on,” he says, stiffening his legs up to drag her to a stop. He manages to pry her arm off him long enough to peel his coat off leaving him in his long sleeved dark pink Atomic Lass shirt. “You’re obviously cold.” As callous as he is sometimes, he finds it’s better to be honest than to dance around the subject, “Shelldon has a heating unit that’ll keep me warm.” Though it wouldn’t help his arms, he could handle a few blocks though. Thankfully his vision is returning to some extent, enough that he notices Kendra looking to his pack and for a moment Don struggles not to shift to put the pack out of her sight, “That’s Shelly right? Is he still mad at me for tricking him?”

“Oh definitely. He has a stack of crayon drawings dedicated to his revenge on you.” He feels the shoulders on his back tighten as though Shelldon was reprimanding him for revealing his secret plans.

Kendra lets off a small shrug “Yeah fair enough, I’d probably do the same thing” before smirking directionally at the pack, ”But for the record little buddy, blue prints are a much better way to plot out revenge.”

Don tries to grin before dizziness settles in again. Kendra must have noticed since she ducked under his arm. “Hold on nerd, keep talking to me.”

He manages a nod, mentally keeping track of their location. “Wh-what were you doing out here kicking trash cans?” he asked. “And who’s this Aiden guy who has you so mad? Not that it's any of my business, but I’m kinda hurt there’s someone out there you currently hate more than me,” he says with an added offended tone that makes her glare at him in confusion. ”I mean not to brag, but I sorta consider it a pride and joy to have an enemy worthy of my intelligence.”

Kendra narrows her eyes. “Please, he’s not worthy of my time,” she says through her teeth. “There’s this guy in the robotics club with us, Aiden. A loser who couldn’t tell a snickers from a soldering pen. There was a contest to submit the best blueprints, and who ever won would to be our project for the semester.”

“I’ve seen you build stuff on your own though. “

“That wasn’t the point,” Kendra lets out an angry huff, “I won, like I knew I was going to. But he got second place, I checked the points and he was twelve points away from wining. Twelve! The loser pretty boy who had his private tutor help him.”

“But you still won-“

“-He shouldn’t have gotten that close. I did all my work by myself. Didn’t ask for help, spent nights coding and drafting. I should have left him in the dust a broken swaddled nerd with broken dreams. But no. I made sure he knew how I felt about it, but the creep tattled on me. Freaking snowflake got freaked out because his blue prints ended up on his front porch on fire. Since when is that illegal.”

“I mean,” Don pauses, “I think always.”

“Anyway, I got kicked off the club and that’s why I'm out here.” She shrugs. “If my Dad or step mom saw me getting this mad then they’d make me do the ‘breathing exercises,’” she said with air quotations, “Being all ‘Kendra we’re worried about you’ ‘Kendra we love and support you we just don’t want to see you go down a bad path’ and ‘Kendra where do you keep getting access to all this fire!?’” Her frustrations forced her to kick out at a sign they passed but thankfully not hard enough to knock it over, “So as soon as I’m done helping you, I’m going to see my Mom. She’s the only one who gets me.”

Donnie blames his concussion on being so surprised Kendra had a mom but tried to keep it off his features. But judging by the quiet scoff from Kendra he hadn’t done a very good job, "How about you Greeny? Why did you come out here if you already had a concussion? Don’t pretend like you didn’t have one, I saw the bandages when I was checking your scalp. You already had a head injury before you got hit in the head.”

Figures his hat would blame him, and his own disorientation for forgetting that Kendra had checked his scalp. “It's complicated.”

“More complicated then plotting revenge on a spoiled white boy in a Vanilla Ice t-shirt?” she says in a tone that tells Donnie she’s trying to make a joke. And despite his best efforts not to, he snorts slightly, “No, I'll agree it’s not that complicated.” But it still feels weird to share with a certified enemy who once tried to steal the Spirit of Labour Day (don’t ask can’t explain). Thankfully she doesn’t rush him as he tries to collect his thoughts. “I got into an argument with my brother.” He still doesn’t want to let her in on too much information. “My brothers are all protective of each-other but he's’ protective in a way that makes me nuts. He thought it was too soon for me to go out with this whole situation,” he said gesturing to his head bandage, “And I disagreed. Except I didn’t really do it in the best way.”

“I think I know what that means,” Kendra says. “Did you say something bad?”

For a moment, it takes all of Don’s remaining mental energy to not think about Leo’s face, watching his concerned features fade away to one of hurt. So hurt in fact he hadn’t even called after Donnie when he stormed out. He lets out a sigh. “I did. I wish I had a reasonable excuse for it, but to be honest I don’t like feeling like I'm depending on people. I don’t like feeling like he’s always concerned about me. I especially don’t like him being right about it.”

“Sucks when it feels like you’re under-appreciated huh?”

“Yeah.” He could make out a familiar sandal store that housed Hueso’s alley. “We’re here,” he says.

Kendra looks around, and for a moment Donnie is concerned Kendra is going to insist on taking him ‘inside’ but she ducks from under shoulder. “You sure?” she asks, “I can take you further.”

“I’m good, thanks though.” He tries to give her a confident smile but his lips only twitch in response. She gives a half shrug before she starts pulling off his coat. “Keep it. You have a long way to walk and I still have Shelldon to keep me warm.”

“Thanks,” she says pulling the coat back on. “I’ll catch you later Greeny,” she says. She looks like she's’ about to walk off when she pauses. “But for the record, it still must be nice to have brothers who have your back.”

“It is.” Don nods. “And honestly Aiden sounds like a little bitch.”

For the first time since their strange encounter began Kendra put on a full smile. “Thanks,” she says before walking off.

(#)(#)\/(#)(#)

Leo didn’t snore.

So when his phone went off amongst his makeshift ‘pillow floor’ in the living room he did not ‘snort’ awake. He made a strangled noise before sitting up. Patting his sweatpants and hoody pockets before diving into the mass of pillows. Breaching a moment later like a whale with his phone in his teeth. Hueso’s ID is flashing across his screen. With a scoff he answers. “For the last time BONE man I don’t work today-“

“First of all, that is NOT how you politely answer a phone,” Hueso starts with a snap of his teeth. “Second that’s not why I'm calling. Your brother is here with me.”

Leo blinks, he blames his previous hibernated state on why it took him so long to remember which brother had left the lair. “Donnie? Is he ok?” he said already going to his room and looking for his sword under his bed.

“He is alright, but it looks like he got hit on the head pretty hard-“

That’s all it takes for him to charge out of his room, lingering only long enough to grab the toolbox he used for a first aid kit, and grabbing his portal sword from the kitchen (vaguely remembering he had used it to cut some cheese for his peanut butter and cheese grilled sandwich earlier) and slicing the sword down to activate a portal to Hueso’s office. Without saying bye, he hangs his phone up and jumps through.

The aforementioned skeleton, who had been glaring at his phone as though offended Leo had hung up on him, gave a shriek as the turtle appears by his side. “BAH! Leo, I hate it when you-“

Leo immediately tuned him out when he saw Donnie laying on Hueso’s couch with an ice pack over his forehead, he hurried forward and knelt down. “You ok buddy?” he asks.

Donnie looks up at him from under the ice pack with a weak smile. “I don’t know, are you really uglier than the last time I saw you or is that my head talking?”

Leo couldn’t help but grin. “I thought brain injuries were supposed to make people nicer,” he says. He turns to the toolbox and starts going through the first aid supplies inside. “Thanks for letting him rest. In your office,” he tells Hueso as he sets aside a pen light and some new bandages.

“Why wouldn’t I? Out of your brothers he’s most definitely my favorite.”

“Wait you have a favorite?” Leo looks to him. “Then who's your least favorite?”

After a pause, Hueso gives a wide and strained grin. “I will leave you two to it. If you need me just call me,” he says before ducking out quickly.

It’s only then that Leo turns his barely contained worried energy on Donnie “What happened? Who did this? Do you have their address and sleep schedule-“

“Leo,” Don starts in a pained voice, “Please, my head feels like someone tried to split it with an ax. It was an accident. Some kids hit me in the head with a snow ball.“

Leo was about to start on another tirade of questions when he forced himself to take a deep breath, “Yeah, ok, I'm sorry,” he says. Also trying to ignore Donnie’s missing coat. He looks back to his supplies and pulls out a pen light. “I’m going to check your pupil dilation, but only if you're up for it.” He waits for Donnie to give a slight nod before he lifts the pen and carefully pushes the ice pack away from his eyes. Using his thumb to cover Don’s opposite eye without actually touching him, with a flash the pupil constricts and dilates as it should. He does the same process to the other “Well that’s good at least,” Leo says. “How’s your vision?”

“Spinning, but I think that’s from the pain.”

That would make sense. The red slider turtle rose to sit on the edge of the couch, carefully unwrapping Don’s scalp as gently as he can, checking his facial expression for any signs of increased pain before he lets out a sigh of relief. “It's just a surface bleed. It doesn’t look like the actual injury itself reopened.”

“That’s good,” Donnie says with a soft sigh. “You’re doing a good job.”

“I had a good teacher.” Leo made sure to give Donnie a soft smile that the turtle barely returns. “Let me just change the bandages and we’ll head home when you feel up for it. Maybe we can order some pizza; I've had a monster craving for anchovy and chocolate syrup pizza for days-“

“I was wrong.”

Leo blinks, pausing from unwrapping the new bandages with his hands. It takes him longer than he should to realize what Don’s apologizing for and when he does, he only returns to digging through his kit. “You were a little right,” Leo says quietly putting aside a bottle of alcohol, “I mean it's kinda right, right?? You're usually right-“

“No, Leo.” Donnie tries to sit up but fails to get up more than a few seconds before Leo’s grip on his arm forces him back down. “Leo I was wrong. I was angry, my head was killing me I would have said anything to hurt you. You don’t mess everything up-“

“Except I do?” Leo lets out a soft laugh. “I mean I do. Between the minotaur's pizza and Big Mama I'm surprised I get anything right-“

Don’s hand grabs his shoulders and before Leo can stop him, the soft-shell forces himself into a sitting position with pure grit alone (judging by the pain filled grimace on his face, “Would you listen to me?!” Donnie demands shaking him by the shoulders, “I shouldn’t have even said it but I would have said anything. I was angry at feeling so helpless and dependent. I was angry because you were right for trying to stop me from going out. I did need your help and I shouldn’t have been so difficult. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry-“ his last sentence is interrupted with a sob that helps him notice the tears running down his face. Donnie lets out an aggravated huff as he presses the heel of his hands against his streaming eyes to help spare his dignity in some way.

He feels the couch shift as Leo shifts closer, wrapping his arms around him. “Ok, ok you were wrong. I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing Leo,“ Donnie manages to say from his brother’s shoulder. “I’m the one apologizing not you, idiot.”

“Alright, alright I apologize for apologizing. You were wrong I was right. Is that what you want to hear?” he asks. Don nods into his shoulder. Leo rests his cheek on Dons’ shoulder rubbing his shell for a few moments as Don’s erratic breathing finally starts to calm down.

After a few seconds Don lets out a small sigh, “Damn it, I was doing so good too. I can't even tell anymore if these are meltdowns or panic attacks.”

“As long as you don’t have to deal with them alone when you don’t want to, that’s all I care about.” Leo gives him a final squeeze before reaching up and taking Don’s shoulders, gently guiding him down to lay down again. “Ok buddy. I’m going to rewrap your head, and then I'm going to go order us some food and portal us home. You just relax ok?” He waits for Donnie to nod before Leo starts applying some alcohol to a cotton ball. “I’ll be honest though, I’m sorta surprised you made it here safely.”

Don for the first time since Leo entered Hueso’s office looks him with his tired blood shot eyes. A soft smile forming on his face as he relaxes. “Yeah,” he whispers. ”Me too.”

#rottmnt #rottmnt fanfiction #Rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #leo #donnie #kendra #christmas #gift #what a long year

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piracytheorist · 4 years ago

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A Kiss for Good Luck (5/15)

Summary: So this is the story of one born lucky, and one born unlucky. Fate will keep making them cross paths, but is it to bring them together, or to test them? Captain Swan AU.

A/N: Total chapter count went up cause I decided to split the last chapter into two parts. From now on updates will come every Tuesday and Friday.

Rating: T (make sure you’re okay with the warnings on AO3)

Word count for this chapter: 2.1k (48k in total) AO3

Read from the beginning: Tumblr | AO3

Chapter 5: Emma Swan, October 31st 2000 – October 19th 2011

Emma pulls back at the sound of a whistle next to her.

"Nice catch, Captain," a girl dressed like Cruella de Vil says to the boy, but he just shakes his head, annoyed at her.

"Ignore her," he tells Emma. "She's just pissed that there's too many adults around," he says as he gives the girl a pointed glare.

The girl just shrugs and walks away.

Emma keeps her arms around the boy's neck and they keep rocking to the rhythm of the next song. Just as she's about to ask him for his name, she sees Sarah and the owner of the two villas run to the front door.

"Excuse me," she tells the boy and lets go. "I'll be right back."

She follows the two women outside and gasps when she sees the bright, wild flames burning inside their rented villa. She tries to step forward towards Sarah, but she trips and falls, scraping her arm on a sharp rock on the ground.

She's not bleeding much; she keeps her arm hidden, feeling lucky she has her zombie makeup, as she stands awkwardly by while the villa's owner is venting out her anger over her destroyed property at Sarah. Emma is too tired and too shocked to understand whose fault it is and who will have to pay for the damages.

Everything they'd brought with them was burned in the fire, including Emma's passport. Sarah says they were lucky enough that her own wallet and papers were in her purse. Early the next morning, one Emma dressed as a way too messy zombie princess and one Sarah dressed as a very tired witch with a broken hat check into a hotel, waiting for the embassy to open so they can arrange for Emma's new travel documents.

They're flying back two days later, and after a long, seemingly endless to Emma trip, she looks at the queue at passport control as if it's the final obstacle to a good night's sleep.

Sarah lets her go first, and though the security guard takes a little more time checking her passport than Emma feels comfortable with, he eventually allows her to pass. Emma picks up her rucksack, still slightly mourning the clothes and the other stuff she lost in the fire, crosses over and turns to look at Sarah.

Sarah walks to the checkpoint. After checking her passport, the security guard picks up a walkie-talkie and says something to it while staring at Sarah.

Sarah turns to look at her, worried, and Emma feels a shiver run down her spine.

Two other guards appear and walk up to Sarah, while another one walks to Emma.

Emma freezes; she watches as the two guards lead Sarah away, while she's turning her head back to look at Emma before they urge her through a door. She seems to be calling Emma's name.

“What's happening?” Emma says, still staring at the closed door. They didn't even let her cross. “Where are you taking her?”

“Just follow me. It's a matter of security.”

“You have to tell me! What happened?!”

The guard stays silent and simply walks forward. He leads Emma into an office, offering her water and a sandwich. Emma takes a few gulps of water – her mouth feels dry as sand already – but her stomach is too tight for her to manage even one bite.

Many long, tiring hours later, a woman dressed in a suit approaches Emma. The badge on her chest has that damn seal that Emma had hoped she'd never see again.

They tell her that Sarah's real name is Ingrid, that she'd migrated illegally from Norway eighteen years ago, that she never had the right to adopt Emma, that all her belongings are now part of the state...

Emma is taken away by the social worker before she has any chance to talk to Sarah – or Ingrid, whatever her real name is.

Still processing the unbelievable secrets revealed to her, she's in such a shock when she picks up a few essentials from the place she called home that she doesn't even think to call a friend. She doesn't need her phone book to remember Lily's phone number, but for the few days she stays in a foster home on the other side of Boston, she trembles at the thought of calling her after the news of her adoptive mother being a criminal have hit the neighborhood.

And Lily had sounded so excited to hear all about Emma's first crush. She wouldn't be ready to deal with such heavy news. She wouldn't be able to understand.

It's not long before Emma runs away. Sar-Ingrid has been deported, there's no good at searching for her, and no-one will take care of Emma like she did, despite the secrets she'd kept.

Part of Emma wants to believe Ingrid had a good reason. But it still lead to this, to Emma running away, breaking into and stealing a yellow Bug to sleep in and probably escape with to... somewhere. Anywhere.

Only Emma had never imagined she'd get a partner in all of this, sneakily sleeping in the backseats, all courtesy of stealing an already stolen car.

Neal is okay. Only two years older than her, he's quickly interested in her, but when she tells him no he keeps their relationship strictly platonic – and professional. It's always easier to pickpocket and shoplift when one of them plays the role of distraction.

At first, Emma keeps remembering that boy, dressed as a pirate, who looked at her in a way she hadn't been looked at before. But when the way Neal looks at her slowly starts resembling that, she thinks that maybe there was something about the romance novels Ingrid liked so much. Maybe there's no love at first sight, but there may be love at first shoplift, first trespassing, first sharing of stolen goods...

And when he promises her a home in Tallahassee, she realizes that just a look means nothing. When his lips stay on hers, and kiss them again and again. When she pulls him to the backseat of the car and what does she know, that scene in Titanic was actually realistic. When he nuzzles closer to her after he's fallen asleep.

Tallahassee is a bit of a long way, but she dares to have hope. Maybe Ingrid wouldn't be too mad. She'd committed a crime, too, anyway.

Neal convinces her to pick up some watches he'd stolen and stored in a locker. Fencing them would give them big money. Neal wants to make fake IDs for them and run off, but after seeing Ingrid's drama, Emma simply wants to give up stealing and make their life in Tallahassee. He puts one of the watches on her wrist as a promise.

As Emma waits for Neal to come back from meeting the fence, her imagination goes wild. They'll have a home for themselves. They won't have to hide, to run, to fear anything anymore. Not that she gives one damn about the law – she's just tired of running. She spins her wrist, touching the watch and thinking of Neal's promise.

But again, it's not the first promise made to her that's broken. Though admittedly, getting sent to jail for Neal's crime was way worse than any other.

He left her the car. She holds the swan keychain with its keys in her hand, then looks at the bars outside her cell's window and wishes with all her might that she could find Neal and run him over with the car he was oh so generous to give her.

Even though she's just seventeen years old, she's already heard that prison makes one tougher. Maybe Emma's exterior does get that way after eleven months in there, but she knows that inside she's still a mess. It's not just that the Bug is the only place she's got to sleep. It's not just that she sometimes still resorts to shoplifting to eat. It's also that now the pirate boy's look becomes nothing. Ingrid's promises and comforting words become dust.

People look at her and through their harsh looks she sees anger, hate, disapproval.

So be it. It's better that way. It will discourage her from trusting anyone again.

Finding a messy, exhausting job as a janitor is the luckiest she's been since Neal gave her away to the police, putting the blame for his crime on her. It's tough, and she hates it, but it pays just enough to rent an old studio that's at least got a bathroom and a kitchen.

Tallahassee is a lost dream by now. Not that she dares to dream much anymore.

Sometimes, from far away, she spots old friends and acquaintances and she makes sure to avoid them and pretend she doesn't see them. They never call her, and she's glad. What is she going to say anyway? Those people still have their homes, their families, their sparkly clean criminal records. She's not the Emma they knew, and surely not the Emma they're ready to accept.

The years go by and she feels emptier. Her jobs get a little bit better, her studio apartments a little bit warmer, but her heart never feels lighter.

She's satisfying some needs. One-night-stands are as far as she goes, though. Sometimes she allows herself to spend the whole night with her partners, but there are times that she remembers that pirate boy and she nearly feels disgusted by her life. She's stopped wanting more, she's stopped wanting something deeper. She's stopped simply wanting.

She hates herself for still thinking about Tallahassee from time to time. Even if she decided to visit, only to prove to herself that there's nothing there for her, she can never spare enough money for a simple trip there. Something always comes up; her apartment flooding, her car breaking down and needing fixing; she gives up when in the span of one year burglars break into her apartment twice and empty it from the few items of value she has.

Even ten years after Neal's fake promise, the damn thought about Tallahassee won't go away.

She wonders if it's because it's the last promise she was given. She spent the first years of her life used to nothing being permanent and secure; then Ingrid pretty much spoiled her, gave her unrealistic expectations about the world. But Emma can't find it in herself to blame her. For all her faults – and crimes – Ingrid had given Emma her love. And it's something she'd go to jail ten times for.

Boston is a big city, but it's choke-full of negative memories for Emma, and just for once she wishes she can spend her birthday somewhere and just do something.

Her boss can only give her two days off the week before her birthday. Just her luck.

Still she's got just enough savings to visit New York City. Truly, she just wants some time away from Boston – she hasn't left since she was released ten years ago. She just wants a place where she doesn't have to avoid old acquaintances, she wants something loud, and drinks, and dance. Lots, lots of dance.

The club in New York isn't half bad. Someone's cigarette burns half a lock of her hair, she spills her drink on her dress, and her shoes are killing her – she learned long ago to not trust heels with her luck, and still her flats are uncomfortable – but she manages to have a decent time.

Or maybe it's the drink that's muddling her thoughts. Maybe she's too drunk to stay on one thought for long, if the realization that her bladder has given her its sixth warning is anything to go by.

Of course there's a queue outside the of course only bathroom. She sits down next to a guy who looks as plastered as her. And she swears it's not the drink that makes all but one person disappear from the queue. And then it will be the guy's turn, and then hers... sweet, finally.

However, when the last person comes out, the guy next to her gestures with his hand.

"Go ahead," he says slowly. His eyes are drooping closed.

"No, it's okay," she says, also slowly. "I can wait."

"Go, please. I'm not one to leave a lady waiting."

"Oh, how a gentleman... what gentleman..." Shit, she's very drunk. Shit? Is that what he... is that why he wants her to go first?

He is a gentleman. And with an accent, to boot.

"Can I kiss you?" she says.

The man just shrugs.

As he sits against the wall, she touches his cheek and kisses him deeply.

#Captain Swan #captain swan ff #cs ff #ouat ff #akfgl #captain swan movie marathon #piracytheorist writes

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lastbluetardis · 4 years ago

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Chemical Reaction (20/22)

Summary: Though their chemistry class is now over, the chemistry between James and Rose is just getting started. Together, they navigate the highs of new love and the lows of coping with past trauma to forge deep and unbreakable bonds of love and commitment. Part 2 in the Catalysis series. Tagging @doctorroseprompts

This chapter: ~8000 words, explicit

If you like my stories, consider leaving me a tip? I know these are trying times, but if you are able, I would really appreciate it xoxo. And as always, comments and reblogs are very much appreciated as well.

AO3 | FF | TSP

Ch1 | Ch2 | Ch3 | Ch4 | Ch5 | Ch6 | Ch7 | Ch8 | Ch9 | Ch10 | Ch11 | Ch12 | Ch13 | Ch14 | Ch15 | Ch16 | Ch17 | Ch18 | Ch19 | Ch20 | Ch21 | epilogue

James awoke slowly, groggily. His head was pounding and his eyes were scratchy and blurry. He had slept deeply and dreamlessly, and now that he was drifting towards consciousness, he had absolutely no idea where he was or what day it was. If he’d had to give the year or month, he wasn’t sure he would have been able to do it.

He would have been perfectly content to close his eyes and try to fall back to sleep; however, the cat yowling at the foot of the bed was making that impossible, as was the sharp, pulsing ache in his bladder. Had he gone out drinking the night before? That might explain his throbbing head, his desperate need for the toilet, and the reason he was asleep in a strange bed.

“Pippin, shut it.”

James blinked through the haze of his vision. Rose lay next to him, but they weren’t in his bed. And they definitely weren’t in Rose’s bed; he had way too much room to splay his legs without them falling off the mattress. But the room was familiar. They were… in his guest room?

The events of the past night finally clicked. Rose was here. Rose was here after they’d made up from their awful fight, and she’d stayed the night with him.

His chest warmed with love and gratitude at the sight of Rose pulling a pillow over her head as Pippin began meowing more earnestly upon realizing both humans were awake.

“I hate your cat,” Rose mumbled, her voice nearly inaudible.

“You love him,” he cooed. Pippin paced in the thin strip of space between their bodies, then stepped onto James’s lower belly. James yelped and swiped his cat to the floor, ignoring Pippin’s cry.

Rose snorted. “All right?”

“I really need a wee,” he squeaked. He vaulted out of bed and sprinted across the hall to the guest bathroom, ignoring Rose’s laughter behind him.

After attending to his over-full bladder, James stumbled to the kitchen—noticing with a grumble it was only seven in the morning—and he filled Pippin and Merry’s food dishes. Preemptively, he went into the basement and placed their bowls down there, knowing he would start painting before too long. Neither cat realized what he intended to do until he trekked up the stairs and closed the door behind him. He heard the frantic sounds of racing feet, then the scratching of paws and claws at the door, followed by the most piteous mewl he’d ever heard.

“Oh, you’re fine,” he said. “Go eat your breakfast, bud.”

Not particularly wanting to stand there arguing with his cat, James turned away from the basement door and went into his guest room. Rose was snoring lightly, her chest rising and falling with her even breaths.

He hadn’t been sure if he would see this sight again, and he knew he would never take it for granted. Though wide awake, thanks to his stupid cat, James instead slipped beneath the sheets once more, nestling deep into the mattress. It wasn’t as cozy as his mattress, a little too firm for his liking. He suddenly wondered whether Rose liked his other bed or favored this one; in all the months they’d been sharing a bed, he never once thought to ask if she preferred firmer or softer mattresses. Maybe they could invest in one of those fancy, dual-firmness mattresses he was always seeing commercials for on the television.

James began getting antsy after only a few minutes of lying beside Rose. He tried to ignore it, to take advantage of snuggling with her, but his mind was awake and itching to do something. Plus, they weren’t really snuggling. He was on his side, watching her sleep.

Not creepy at all, he muttered to himself.

Noticing that he was beginning to fidget, James relented with a sigh. Pecking a soft, barely-there kiss to her forehead, he slipped out of bed again and padded into his kitchen to start coffee and clean up the dishes from the night before.

Quietly as he could, he emptied the dishwasher and hand-washed the few dirty dishes in his sink while his coffee brewed. He had the belated realization that the scent of coffee might be enough to disturb and wake Rose. Oops.

Well, there was nothing he could do about it now. He grabbed his hazelnut-flavored creamer from the fridge and poured a healthy dollop into the bottom of his caffeine molecule mug. He took his coffee to the kitchen table and grabbed a crossword puzzle book to keep himself busy; he didn’t want to start painting yet, since the fumes and the noise would probably wake Rose, if she wasn’t already awake.

Surprisingly, it was another hour before Rose joined him. James was deeply engrossed in his crossword and didn’t hear her soft footsteps; he jumped when she linked her arms around his neck and rested her chin on the top of his head.

“Morning,” she murmured, voice gravelly.

“Morning.” He tilted his head up, accepting her kiss.

“Did you sleep well?” she asked.

“Mhm. Like a rock. Which is nice, since I slept for maybe four hours last night. Well. Last morning. I didn’t actually try to go to bed until six, and I didn’t really sleep. Just sorta dozed on and off and…”

“You went to bed at six?” Rose interrupted, a frown evident in her voice.

“I was busy,” he said, a little defensively. “Gollum wee’d on my bed and the guest bed, so I had to wash all the sheets and duvets. D’you know how long it takes those things to dry? Oh, by the way, Gollum’s got a UTI. He’s at the vet. I should be able to pick him up today or tomorrow. But I was busy washing all of the blankets and sheets, and then I figured I would vacuum and wash my bathrooms between loads, and then I realized I hadn’t dusted in a while, so I—”

Rose leaned down and silenced him with a swift, hard kiss. His mind went blank as he cupped his hand around the back of her neck to hold her in place. She pulled away too soon for his liking and utterly ignored his pout.

“I love you, but blimey, you need to work on not talkin’ so much before I’ve had my first cuppa tea,” she drawled, ruffling his hair.

She moved away from him to start the kettle and to grab a mug and tea bag. James stood and refilled his mug with his third cup of coffee.

“Did you sleep well?” he asked, filling the mug to the brim to finish off the coffee in the pot.

“Not really,” she admitted.

James’s shoulders slumped. “Oh. Was it the mattress?”

Rose blinked. “What? No.”

“Is that mattress too firm?”

“No, it…”

“Do you like the mattress in my bedroom? I was thinking this morning that I never really considered the type of mattress you like, and if you don’t like what I have we can go shopping together for something you and I can both comfortably sleep on and…”

“Jesus Christ,” Rose muttered under her breath, rubbing the heels of her hands into her eyes.

James abruptly stopped speaking, his ears and cheeks burning. “Er, sorry.”

“Your mattresses are fine,” she said. “If you would’ve let me finish, I was about to say I had weird dreams that kept waking me up. I dreamt Jimmy showed up. In one of the dreams, you and him became best friends…”

“Fat fucking chance,” James blurted, irrationally irritated at his dream self. “Rose you know I would never…”

Rose rolled her eyes. “I know. Didn’t keep my subconscious from dreamin’ about it though. And in another, Jimmy kept shoutin’ at me for the most ridiculous things that I can’t really remember. I didn’t want to keep dreaming about him, so I figured I’d get up and we could start painting your bedroom.”

James stepped up to her, arms outstretched for a hug, if she wanted it. She did, and tucked her head beneath his chin, linking her arms around his hips.

“I haven’t responded to Jimmy yet,” she said quietly. “I didn’t tell him I got his letter. I don’t know what to say to him. Or if I even should say anything.”

James gave her a tight squeeze. He wanted to tell her to block his number and burn his letter, but ultimately the decision was hers. He would simply be there for comfort and support, a shoulder to lean on, an ear to vent to.

“I’m proud of you,” he whispered, kissing the top of her head. “So proud. I’ll be here for you no matter what.”

She tightened her hold around him, nearly clinging to him and ignoring the beeping of the kettle.

“Thanks.” She sighed and pressed a kiss to his collarbone. “I’m gonna make an effort to tell you when I talk to Jimmy. If I talk to him.”

James ran his fingers through her hair. “I’ll be here to listen when you’re ready.” He kissed her gently. “Can I make you some tea and toast?”

She nodded and loosened her arms from around his hips, then allowed herself to be guided to an empty kitchen chair.

They ate a meager breakfast of toast and scrambled eggs while they sipped their respective hot beverages. When they’d finished eating and their plates and mugs were in the sink, James led Rose to the guest bedroom and found some old, ratty clothes she could borrow. He donned the shorts and paint-splattered t-shirt he’d worn the day before, and gave Rose a pair of mesh shorts and a frayed, stained t-shirt he often wore to do yard work.

“Right! Ready to get painty?” he crowed, clapping his hands together,

Rose giggled and nodded, but paused and asked, “Are Merry and Pippin gonna get in our way?”

“Locked ‘em in the basement,” he assured. As though to alert the world of his displeasure, Pippin began meowing very loudly from the basement door.

Ignoring his wailing cat, James took his phone with him in case the vet called, then he walked down the hall and flung open his bedroom door. The paint smell had dissipated somewhat overnight, and to his delight, all the walls looked dry enough for a second coat of paint.

They took a few minutes to discuss a plan of attack, wherein it was decided James would put the second coat on the ceiling while Rose started on the walls. That was how the next few hours passed, with James climbing up and down the ladder and working around Rose.

When the ceiling was completed, James opened up the can of glossy white paint to get started on the crown molding. Rose had finished two of the four walls, and they looked beautiful; the paint was even, with no brush or roller marks left behind.

His legs and core were getting sore from balancing on the ladder, and he wanted to say sod it to the crown molding. But he hadn’t been particularly careful when applying the paint to his walls and ceiling; as a result, the trim work was speckled with blue-gray paint. With a sigh, James dipped one of his smaller brushes and began the arduous, painstaking task of painting the trim around the ceiling.

After about an hour of scaling up and down the ladder, of reaching up and out to apply the paint, his back and shoulders were nearly burning with exertion. While he wanted nothing more than to stop for the day, he was eager to have this damn project finished. He was tired of his house smelling like paint and of needing to keep his poor cats sequestered in the basement.

He climbed down the ladder and returned the lid to the paint can, figuring they were due for a lunch break. With a groan, James leaned down and touched his toes, twisting slightly. It crackled like a bag of crisps. He exhaled as he straightened, then lifted his arms up and over his head. His back popped loudly, spreading relief through his entire spine.

“God that felt good,” he sighed, raking his hands through his hair. It felt a little damp with supposed perspiration.

“You’re covered in paint.”

James glanced over to where Rose was working the paint roller up and down the walls to apply a clean, even coat. His focus narrowed to the flex of her shoulders, visible even through the over-large t-shirt she was wearing. His mind’s eye could easily see the soft, smooth expanse of her back, the jut of her shoulder blades, the flesh on either side of the valley of her spine, the subtle dimples that peeked just above the waistband of her trousers. His fingers itched to push her shirt up, to map out her back and her belly, to press himself against her and kiss the side of her neck and her shoulder and…

He forgot she had spoken until she glanced over her shoulder at him expectantly.

He cleared his throat. “Well, you’re one to talk. You’re covered in paint too.” She’d pulled her hair up into a messy bun at the beginning of their venture, and several strands had escaped over the course of the morning, billowing around her face. Small streaks of paint adorned her forehead and cheeks from where she no doubt impatiently pushed her hair aside. “Besides, we’re painting. By default, that means we’re going to end up covered in it.”

Rose grinned, her tongue poking out of the side of her mouth. His stomach gave a funny little lurch, and he wanted to chase her tongue with his.

“Your hair is practically white,” she teased.

“No, it’s not,” he said, rolling his eyes fondly. “Don’t be dramatic.”

“Oh yeah?” she challenged. “Look at your hands.”

He blinked at her, then glanced down. To his horror, he saw that most of his right palm was coated in paint. He looked to the ladder: the brush he’d been using had wet, sticky paint all along the handle.

“Oh, no,” he moaned. He raced into his en suite and saw that Rose was right: paint was streaked and clumped in with his hair.

He groaned.

“Told ya.”

Rose stood behind him and linked her arms loosely around his middle. She rested her palms on his stomach and began to rub long, lazy lines up and down his torso. Goosebumps rippled across his skin and he tried to keep himself from shuddering at her touch.

“You ought to be more careful about where you set your brush,” she murmured, stretching onto her tiptoes to plant a kiss to the nape of his neck, right above his shirt collar. “Want some help washing it out?”

“My beautiful hair,” he whined, mostly to hear her laugh.

He succeeded; she giggled and reached up to ruffle his poor, paint-splattered hair. He could feel how stiff it had gotten with paint.

“C’mere.”

Rose dropped her arms from around his middle and skipped into the bedroom for the roll of paper towel they’d been using to try to keep their hands relatively clean. Clearly he had failed in that regard, and his hair had paid the price.

While she did that, James washed his hands, scratching at the dried paint with his nails until his hands were spotless and pink once more. He then angled his head at Rose when she finally joined him in the en suite. But she shook her head and boosted herself up onto the vanity countertop instead. She ripped off a few sheets of paper towels and ran them under warm water to moisten them.

She gestured for him to step closer, and he readily did. He was not expecting, however, for Rose to link her legs around his hips. She hooked her ankles over one another behind his thighs and pulled him even closer. He sucked in a sharp breath as the front of his hips met with hers.

Automatically, he rested his hands on her thighs. Her borrowed shorts had ridden up, and he couldn’t help but touch her bare skin. Her legs tensed, drawing him in, before they relaxed again.

“C’mere,” she repeated, and he leaned into her.

He dropped his head so it was in easier reach for her; his new vantage gave him a teasing view down the front of her shirt, which had gaped low in front as she leaned forward and up. He couldn’t see anything beyond the soft swell of the tops of her breasts and he had the ridiculous urge to rip the front of her shirt open.

Rose sank her fingers into his hair as she began to scrub the damp paper towel through it. He bit his lip as sparks of pleasure shot across his scalp whenever she used her nails to scratch at a particularly stubborn bit of paint.

“God, you really worked it in deep,” Rose muttered, voice an octave lower than normal.

“What can I say? I’m very thorough.” His voice cracked, and he cleared it impatiently.

Rose’s hands gradually stilled in his hair. She set the damp cloth to the side and he took that to mean she had given up on his hair. He lifted his head and met her gaze, as dark and hungry as the desire churning in his gut.

He wasn’t sure who moved first, but suddenly their lips met, softly at first them more urgently as Rose flung her arms around his neck to pull him closer. Not knowing where to put his hands, he cradled them at her lower back, splaying his palms across her spine. James groaned and shuddered as her tongue slid against his, mapping out the contours of his mouth. She flicked her tongue along the roof of his mouth, then the backs of his teeth, then his upper lip. Next she sucked his lower lip into her mouth and bit it gently, scraping her teeth across it before she released it.

Heat unfurled low in his stomach, twisting and tightening his guts as it concentrated into a steady, dull ache in his groin. He could feel himself getting hard as Rose tightened her legs around his waist, pulling him in, in, in.

God, he wanted her. He wanted nothing more than to bury himself in her, body, mind, and soul. He wanted to make love with her, to hold her tightly as he pleasured her. He wanted to make her forget all about the heartbreak of the last twenty-four hours and to simply feel.

But after what she’d told him about makeup sex with Jimmy, would she even want to have makeup sex with him? He didn’t know, and so he would be perfectly satisfied to simply lose himself in her kisses for the rest of the afternoon. It would be enough to cradle her in his arms and let their breaths mingle in the same space as they shared kiss after kiss.

“You’re thinking too loud,” Rose mumbled into his mouth, reluctantly pulling away. Her lips were red and slightly swollen, her eyes dark and hooded. He recognized that expression, and his stomach clenched with anticipation.

“Sorry,” he said, leaning in to kiss her.

However, she pressed her hand to his chest. “Wait. Do you want to be doing this?”

“You can’t feel my interest in this?” he drawled, smirking. He wasn’t fully hard yet, but was hard enough that there was no way Rose couldn’t feel it. Even so, he pressed himself lazily into her.

“There’s a difference in you wanting it versus your body reacting to it,” Rose said with a shrug. “If you’re not into this…”

“I am,” he promised. After a moment’s hesitation, he decided to share with her what had been going on in his head. “I was just wondering if maybe you weren’t. What you said yesterday about makeup sex with Jimmy…”

He trailed off with a small shrug. Rose’s expression softened, and she leaned forward to press a gentle, brief kiss to his mouth.

“We used to have angry sex instead of talking,” she said. “You and I spent an hour last night talking things out and apologizing. You opened yourself up to me and made me feel comfortable to open myself to you. You let me know how I hurt you without raising your voice, calling me any rude names, or swearing at me. And you let me tell you how you hurt me without getting all defensive or dismissive about it.”

James’s blood began to boil as his hatred of Jimmy Stone was rekindled. He pushed it aside, however, to stay in this moment with Rose. Jimmy didn’t get to take up space between him and Rose, especially when they were sharing such intimacy together.

“That’s what I want from a relationship,” Rose concluded. “And now I would like to make love with my best friend because I want to make him feel good and show him how much I love him. And I want to forget about anything else because nothing else will ever be more important than him and me and what we share together.”

James’s chest tightened and he swore he had never and would never love anyone more than he loved Rose. He covered her lips in a frantic, hungry kiss, feeling as though he couldn’t get close enough to her. She moaned into his mouth and slipped her hands beneath his shirt, mapping out the planes of his stomach, his obliques, his chest. He shivered at her touch, nerves sparking.

He stuck one of his hands under her shirt, walking it up to her breast, while his other dipped into the front of her borrowed shorts. They were loose, giving him plenty of room to work. He groaned when his fingers met with her wet heat.

“Got hot and bothered watchin’ you,” she gasped as his fingers teased her, tracing long, slow lines through her. “Was gonna snog you on the ladder but figured that probably wouldn’t end well. Don’t really want you breaking your back falling off the ladder ‘cos I couldn’t keep my hands to myself.”

James snorted lightly. “I was getting distracted watching you too. I love seeing you in my clothes.”

“Good thing I like wearing your clothes. God.” She hissed when his fingers circled that wonderfully sensitive bundle of nerves. Her hips arched into him, urging him on.

He eagerly complied, keeping his touch light and unhurried, relishing the variety of sounds she made. From the low moans to sharp inhalations, the noises she let out tightened the coil in his belly. He was so hard and desperate to rub against something, or to shift aside their clothes and enter her. But he also wanted to continue pleasuring her, so he worked to ignore the demands of his body.

Rose, however, was as in tune with his body as he was, and must have sensed how tense he’d become. She stuck a hand down the front of his shorts and wrapped her fingers around his hard length. He groaned at the sensation, at the friction of her hand moving lazily up and down. Her rhythm was as slow as his, mirroring the motion of his fingers against her.

All the while, James kissed her. Their kisses grew clumsier as their breathing turned ragged. He gave up on kissing her and instead lavished attention to the side of her neck, concentrating his efforts on the sensitive skin beneath her ear and where her neck joined her shoulder.

“Rose, I want you,” he rasped, his belly clenching impatiently. “I want to be inside you. Let me make love to you. Let me make you feel good.”

She let out a whimper, her fingers tightening around him. He arched his hips greedily, urging her to continue even as he fumbled with the best way to shift her clothes.

Sensing his deliberation, she reluctantly took her hand out of his pants. She moved them to the edge of the vanity on either side of her hips.

“Here,” she panted.

She unhooked her legs from around his waist, then tightened her abdominal muscles and arms as she lifted her bum off the counter. Wasting no time, James hooked his fingers in the waistband of her shorts, grabbing them and her knickers. He slipped them down her hips and thighs in one smooth motion. She impatiently wiggled her legs, helping him remove her cumbersome clothes, before he finally got them free of her feet. He threw them to the floor, then made to drop to his knees in front of her.

“No,” she said, grabbing the front of his shirt to halt his movements.

He blinked. She loved oral, just as he liked giving it. “But…”

“Later.”

“Promise?” he asked with a pout.

She grinned. “You can go down on me for as long as you like later. But for now…” She cupped her hand around his erection through his shorts, stroking him slowly. He shuddered as his breath escaped him in a low groan. “I want you inside me. Right now.”

Carefully, she lowered his shorts to free his erection. He worked them all the way down his legs and kicked them off behind him. He next grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head. Rose scrabbled with her shirt as well. She threw it to the floor, then reached behind herself to unclasp her bra.

The heat in James’s belly tightened as her breasts were revealed. In his (totally unbiased) opinion, they were the most beautiful pair of beasts in the world.

Now that they were both naked, it dawned on James that there were far comfier places to do this.

“Let’s move to a bed, love,” he said, even though it was so, so tempting to stay right as they were. It would be easy to step between Rose’s legs and push himself into her wet heat; it would feel incredible, being surrounded by her, making her moan, feeling her clenching and throbbing around him.

He shuddered violently as his need spiked, but Rose was already hopping down from the vanity countertop in all of her naked glory. He couldn’t help but catch her in his arms and kiss her. He hissed when his erection pressed to her hip. He grabbed her arse and pulled her into him.

“Y’know, standing-up sex is much more difficult and uncomfortable than countertop sex,” Rose drawled, though her words died on a gasp when he covered her breast with his mouth. He flicked his tongue against her nipple and scraped his teeth across it.

It became too awkward to keep his neck bent like that, so he instead replaced his mouth with his hand and moved his lips to the side of her neck.

“You are utterly irresistible,” he breathed, repositioning his hips so his erection was stimulating her as well. He flexed and arched his into her, ignoring that primal urge to enter her, to make hard and fast love with her.

“Counter’s right there,” she sighed, threading her fingers through his hair and hooking a leg around his waist.

Oh, God, that was the angle he needed. On his next forward grind, the tip of his cock slipped through her folds, teasing him with a hint of heightened pleasure. Fire blazed through him, a desperate, aching, burning heat as his body exploded with sensations.

He thought he would never again get to do this with her, yet here he was, mere seconds from joining with her in that most intimate way that belonged just to them. She was the only one he would ever share this with, the only one he wanted to share this with.

“Rose,” he gasped helplessly, grinding into her harder and faster.

Raw desire overwhelmed him, and he could hardly do anything but cling to her.

“Bed.”

Rose lowered her leg from around him, causing him to slip away from her. He grunted in displeasure as his cock was met with the cooler air of the en suite.

A small, soft hand slipped through his, pulling him into the bedroom. The smell of paint was all around them. Brushes and rollers and paint cans were strewn around the room, but in the center of the room was a beautiful, glorious, comfortable bed. It was covered in a protective cloth canvas, but it would be a simple matter to shift the canvas aside.

Rose, evidently, had the same idea. She grabbed the edge of the canvas and shoved it to the foot of the bed, leaving them enough space to crawl onto the mattress.

They moved in perfect synchronicity, with Rose settling on her back, legs fallen to the sides, and James hovering atop her, his hips cradled in hers.

Rose wasted no time; she took him in hand, lined him up, and guided him inside of herself. He couldn’t help the soft cry as he was surrounded by her. She echoed his moan, locking her legs around his hips and digging her nails into his shoulder blades.

James began to shake. Hot shivers pricked across his body, and he had the mortifying dread that he was about to come any second. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to think about anything other than how good it felt to be inside Rose, how safe and loved he felt, how relieved he was to be making love with the love of his life when, for a long, exhausting, harrowing day, he thought he’d lost her and broken this beautiful life they shared.

It was then that he realized his body had been telling him he was about to start crying. Hot tears slipped down his cheeks, before they were brushed away by gentle hands.

“James.” Rose caressed her thumbs beneath his eyelids, a silent request. He opened his eyes and saw that hers, too, were glistening with tears. “I love you. More than I can say. More than you’ll know. More than I thought I could ever love someone. You are my happy ending, the happy ending I never thought I’d have, and I want to spend the rest of my life loving you and laughing with you and crying with you.”

A choked sob bubbled up his throat and he spared a thought for how ridiculous they must look, lying on a bed in a paint-strewn room, connected as intimately as two people could physically be, and yet they were both crying.

“I love you, Rose,” he answered, voice raw. “Thank you for…” For what? For loving him and letting him love her? For letting him apologize and giving him an apology in return? For being patient, kind, and loving? For making him feel at home for the first time in a long, long time? “For everything.”

She brought his face closer to hers and brushed a ghost of a kiss to his cheeks overtop the tear tracks, then to his lips. She planted kiss after kiss to his lips, gently at first, then more frantic as he slid his arms under her shoulders to hold her closer. Their mouths moved greedily together, falling into a rhythm they each knew well as James began to move atop her.

Rose broke the kiss with a sigh, arching her hips into his. Their kisses grew more sporadic, with James concentrating his efforts on her neck and collarbone. She felt amazing, the slick drag of her tightening muscles around his cock sending frissons of pleasure across his entire body, head to toes.

He gathered her impossibly closer, burying his face into her neck as he breathed her in, her scent overpowering the smell of paint in the room. He was surrounded by her, by her warmth, her body, her love. With every thrust of himself into her, he was being consumed, giving himself willingly to her and receiving all of her in return.

Rose began trembling, clenching around him as her breathing hitched. Shifting his weight and balance, he took one of his arms away from her to slip his hand between their bodies to rub the place they were joined. Her back arched, thrusting into him as she squeezed him tighter, tighter, tighter…

She cried out his name, the sound full of pleasure and relief as she was swept away by the force of her orgasm. Shuddering and shaking, her nails dug hard into his spine as she clung to him. He could feel his own pleasure mounting, feel the urgency building within him as he quickened his pace.

His body was too small to contain the maelstrom brewing inside of him. His lungs constricted, leaving him panting raggedly at her shoulder as he moved within her. Rose had stopped pulsing around him, so he returned his arm to the mattress, bracing himself as he snapped his hips harder and faster, chasing his release.

Rose scraped her nails up and down his back, raising goosebumps across his skin and pulling a low groan from deep in his throat. Fuck, she felt incredible. He never wanted to leave this moment, yet he was desperate to reach his climax, to join her in that overpowering ecstasy.

Her lips were at his ear, her hot breath tickling it deliciously as she whispered, “I love you, James. My James. I love you.”

He cursed and cried out as the tension in his belly flared sharply, then rolled outwards, boiling his blood and leaving pleasure in its wake. He’d never felt so good and was sure nothing else would ever feel as amazing as this, despite the past four months proving to him that making love with Rose would always be addicting and overwhelming.

He was thoroughly exhausted when the tide receded and he slumped bonelessly into Rose. He could hardly catch his breath and he was sure his arms would never stop shaking.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Rose mumbled, sounding as worn out as he felt, “but if makeup sex with you is always going to be that intense, we’re gonna need to find things to argue about at least weekly.”

James snorted, then giggled, before he was full-on belly laughing. Rose was laughing just as hard beneath him, her shoulders shaking as she gasped for breath. His abdominals ached by the time he managed to pull himself together.

“Your hair is still a mess,” Rose said, running her fingers through it.

Shivers prickled across his scalp. He moaned and pressed closer.

“I think a shower is gonna be the only way to get all the paint out,” she continued.

“Mmm. I could use a bit of help. To make sure my hair is utterly paint-free.”

She grinned. “I s’pose I could be persuaded to join you. After all, I might’ve gotten paint in my hair and need someone to check it out for me.”

“See? I’m doing you a huge favor,” he said.

Rose pinched him, then sighed and melted into the mattress and pillows. “We probably ought to get more painting done before we shower though.”

“I dunno about you, but it would take an act of God to move me from this bed right now.”

At that moment, James’s phone began to trill with an incoming call. He grunted in annoyance, unsure where he’d left his phone, and figured whoever was calling couldn’t be more important than his post-coital cuddle with Rose.

“Aren’t you gonna get that?” she asked, trailing her nails lightly up and down his spine.

He huffed. “Unless God is calling, no.”

“It could be the vet,” Rose said as his phone continued to ring. “Didn’t you say Gollum could come home today or tomorrow?”

With a displeased groan, James pushed himself up to his forearms, then carefully rolled off of her. His muscles complained at the movement; his legs barely held his weight as he stumbled around the room, searching for his phone. The call had ended by the time he found it sitting precariously top of the canvas-covered nightstand. Rose had been right: it was the vet. He learned upon listening to the voicemail message that he could pick Gollum up any time that afternoon before six o’clock.

“Let’s shower then fetch him,” Rose suggested. “We got a lot done today and can finish up tomorrow, if that’s all right.”

James was sure he would be even sorer tomorrow, but he absolutely did not want to do any more painting today. He enthusiastically agreed, and then waggled his eyebrows and said, “Shower time?”

Rose rolled her eyes but a small smile crossed her lips. She shifted off of the bed, looking as stiff as he felt; hopefully the warm water would help loosen their muscles.

James should have known it would be impossible for their shared shower to be purely functional. As they washed themselves and helped each other scrub off stubborn flecks of paint, they found any excuse to stand closer than necessary. Their damp, soapy bodies rubbed together deliciously and James couldn’t help but trail wet kisses across her skin as his body thrummed with renewed desire. When Rose shampooed his hair and dug her nails deep into his scalp to scrape away all of the paint, James thought he was going to combust on the spot. All of his blood pulsed into his cock with dizzying intensity; by the time Rose rinsed the suds from his hair, he was grinding himself firmly into her hip.

“Again?” she asked with a smirk.

“Please,” he rasped. “I want you.”

“Shower sex requires more balance and strength than I currently have,” she said, sliding her palm down his belly to take him in hand. “But I can think of something else I can do with this.”

With that, she dropped to her knees before him and wasted no time in slotting her mouth over him. Pleasure sparked up his spine and goosebumps prickled across his skin despite standing beneath the warm spray of water. Her tongue drummed across his cock while her hand stroked the base of him.

She built him up with a steady rhythm, and James let himself be lost in her ministrations, for once unbothered that he wasn’t going to last very long. He couldn’t bring himself to care, not when the friction of her hand and the suction of her mouth felt so bloody good.

He grunted out a warning when the heat in his belly coiled in on itself. Smirking, she took her mouth off of him and pumped her hand harder and faster down his cock. She arched her chest closer, the overhead lights shimmering off her wet, flushed skin as the head of his cock brushed the swell of her breasts, and oh God, he was done for.

The tension unsnapped in a sharp wave of pleasure and relief that left him moaning and curling his toes into the wet, textured floor of his shower. He thrust into the sensations rocking through his body as her hand continued moving on him, drawing out his orgasm for as long as she could.

He cursed when his ears stopped roaring and his head stopped swimming. Rose was still crouched in front of him, evidence of his pleasure spattered across her breasts as she lazily stroked his softening cock. He shivered.

“Thanks,” he croaked a bit stupidly.

She grinned. “My pleasure.”

“Pretty sure the pleasure was all mine, actually.” He helped haul her to her feet, and he crashed his mouth to hers. Between kisses, he murmured, “That felt incredible. Thank you.”

“I love doing that to you,” she replied, sighing when he tilted her head back to kiss her neck.

“Looks like you got all covered in paint again,” he drawled, trailing his fingertips across her breasts.

“Really? That’s your line?” she snorted.

He pouted. “What’s wrong with my line? That was a brilliant line.”

She simply rolled her eyes, but another smile tugged at her lips. “That was a terrible line and so cheesy and so dorky.” Before he could splutter out a rebuttal, she kissed him and said, “But you’re my cheesy dork.”

His blood warmed and he hummed, his body overflowing with love and appreciation for her. He kissed her softly and whispered, “Since I got you messy, it’s only fair that I wash it all off.”

“Hmmm?”

James trailed his fingers up and down her sides, from her breasts to her hips, in long, slow strokes. Her nipples pebbled and tightened so invitingly, and he couldn’t keep himself from taking one into his mouth. She arched into his touch, fisting her fingers through his hair to hold him in place. As if he would ever want to move.

Time ceased to mean anything as he lavished attention to her breasts, letting his tongue and the spray of the shower rinse her chest clean. Her breathing turned ragged the longer he allowed his teeth and tongue to tease her nipples and the curve of her breasts. When his back and neck grew too sore to remain hunched as he was, he dropped to his knees before her and gave the same attention to her hips and lower belly.

She thrust closer to his touch, trying to get him where she wanted him, but he smiled to himself and grabbed her hips, halting their impatient movements.

“James,” she whined, tugging at his hair. “I didn’t make you wait.”

“As I recall, earlier you told me, and I quote, You can go down on me for as long as you like later. It’s later, isn’t it? And I am nowhere near satisfied yet.”

“James, please,” she begged, and fuck, if she didn’t know what that did to him.

He shivered and tried to continue kissing her hips and thighs, but he was desperate to taste her, to hear her sounds of pleasure.

“C’mere.” He tapped one of her legs, encouraging her to drape it over his shoulder. “I won’t let you fall.”

Rose obeyed, bracing her back on the shower wall for balance and leverage. She gripped his hair tightly with one hand while her other shot to the washcloth holder. Her knuckles went white from how hard she clung to it.

“Relax,” he breathed, planting barely-there kisses right above where he knew she wanted him.

She growled in frustration and arched into him. He caressed her leg, then finally lowered his mouth and lick a long, slow line through her folds. She cursed and squeezed his hair, before loosening her hold.

He feasted on her as though he were a starving man. He couldn’t get close enough, couldn’t taste enough of her. Her urgent moans spurred him on, and he redoubled his efforts.

“James. I’m gonna…”

He hummed into her, loving her sharp cry as she trembled apart around him. Her thighs shook and he made sure to brace himself to take on more of her weight in case she lost her balance. Rose dug her heel into his spine, pressing him closer to her as she sighed his name and a string of curses.

Many long moments later, Rose shakily unhooked her leg from his shoulder and urged him to his feet. He held her to him trailing his fingers up and down her spine as she worked to slow her breathing.

“I love you,” she mumbled, face buried in the side of his neck. “You are so good at that.”

He puffed up with pride. “You deserve nothing less. Besides, I love doing that to you. Though I’m miffed you wouldn’t let me go on for longer.”

As though to contradict him, their hot water turned lukewarm, then went suddenly frigid. James, who had his back to the spray, yelped and leapt out of the water’s path, knocking Rose into the wall.

“Christ that’s cold!”

Rose cackled and ruffled his wet hair before she reached around him and turned the water off. “See. It’s a good thing I didn’t let you carry on. I would’ve been furious if a jet of cold water interrupted that.”

James sighed, then grudgingly stepped away from Rose to exit the shower.

“Dunno about you, but I’m starving,” Rose said while they towel dried themselves.

“Worked up quite an appetite, did you?” he asked, winking.

“Nah, I think it’s just ‘cos it’s way past lunch time,” she replied sweetly.

When they were dried and dressed once more, they exited the bedroom and closed the door behind them, then released Merry and Pippin from the basement.

They inhaled a quick lunch of turkey sandwiches and sour cream and cheddar crisps, with half of a cupcake for dessert. As James cut the cupcake in half—horizontally between “happy” and “birthday”—he remembered the gift he’d had stashed away in his backpack all month long.

“Oh, bugger,” he muttered to himself, ignoring Rose’s look of confusion as he abruptly dropped the knife and rushed to the front door where his bag hung from a peg on the coat rack.

He rifled through it until he found the thin, rectangular velvet box. He had nearly decided on a thicker square box until he realized the box looked like it might hold a ring, and he hadn’t wanted to send mixed messages. If—when, he thought hopefully—he proposed to Rose, he wanted that to be the first and only time she thought a proposal was coming. He didn’t want to tease it in front of her without following through.

Necklace box in tow, he returned to Rose and held it out to her. “Happy birthday. I’ve been carrying it around all month to give to you whenever you told me it was your birthday. It slipped my mind last night.”

Rose’s cheeks turned a delightful shade of pink as she accepted the box from him with a mumbled, “Thanks,” and a brief kiss. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and rocked on his toes and heels as she took the lid off of the box.

“Oh, it’s beautiful,” she breathed, running her fingertips delicately across the silver chain and pendant. She looked up at him and smiled. “Thank you. I love it.”

He exhaled in relief; he hadn’t been sure what her response would be, since she had an aversion to gifts. But he’d seen the infinity heart design and hadn’t been able to resist.

Rose must have noticed his reaction, and she smiled sheepishly. “I’m trying to be better about accepting gifts. Especially since you enjoy giving them. I really love it, James. Thank you. Will you put it on me?”

She took the necklace out of the box and handed it to him. He draped it around her neck then clasped it, brushing a kiss to her nape to sign off on a job well done.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, unable to resist kissing her again.

She hummed and melted into him, resting her head on his shoulder. He leaned forward to press a kiss to her lips as she said, “Let’s finish lunch then we can collect Gollum.”

“I’d rather continue kissing you,” he countered, leaving kisses along the side of her neck.

“We can keep kissing when we get home,” she answered, though with how she threaded her fingers through his hair, she was in no rush to put an end to their activities either.

“Or… we can kiss now.”

Rose breathed out a laugh. “You should be a responsible pet owner. Let’s fetch Gollum, then when we get back, we can snog on the couch for the rest of the night.”

“Hmmm, you drive a hard bargain.” He planted a final kiss to the patch of skin right below her ear, enjoying her slight shudder, then pulled away to guide her to the kitchen and their shared, halved cupcake.

#ficandchips #doctorroseprompts #dwfic #doctor who #ten x rose #ten x rose au #james x rose #university au #romance #lemons #my fic #chemical reaction #catalysis series #chemical potential sequel

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readingsbylibramc · 3 years ago

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birth chart reading for @nancydrewandhisbuttsniffingdog

hello! welcome to your reading. I’m gonna give you a quick overview of what I’m going to analyze about your natal chart. feel free to ask me anything if something isn’t clear, of course. you’ll find out your dominants’ influence on your persona, your physical appearance, impression on others and the way you approach the world; your ego, identity, the real you; your reactions, your desires, inner emotions; your way of expressing your feelings, your mind and ideas; your desires and approach to love; your energy tank, instincts and temperament; in-depth analysis of each house with their rulers and analysis of heavy aspects; love life + soulmates/karmic partners interpretation; your relationship with your friends; your family life; your approach to career and work in general + possible jobs suggestion; your style, fashion sense analysis; life purpose and past life description; basic transits’ analysis to describe your current mood and, last but not least, your secret skills, how to make the most out of your soul and manifest what you desire based on your birth chart.

🦋 chart shape, dominants

your chart is a splay shape, meaning that your planets are located randomly in different groups in your chart. people with this type of chart are usually very talented at different things. they can focus their attention on different matters, from family, to work, to love. everything is important for you, and you try to live your life to the fullest. you may be particularly talented at things that require action, it doesn’t matter whether it’s physical or mental. you may be very good at sports, dancing… or maybe you’re good at leading, you could easily be the boss on your work place. since you’re interested in so many things, you could easily be skilled at all of them to be honest. my advice would be to pick the hobby that is most important for you and care about it more than the others. that’s because people with this chart usually tend to do so many things that they may lack precision. it’s better to give all of yourself to what’s important for you.

your dominant planets are the moon, mercury and mars. you are a very emotional person, you probably feel things intensely even though you may be prone to mood swings. you are also a very hard-working person, you are a perfectionist and you strive to be the #1 at everything you do.

your dominant sign is virgo. with virgo as your dominant sign, I assume that you're very astute and practical. you have great problem-solving skills, and you have the ability to stay collected even under stressful situations. you're quite logical, but you also a warm, generous heart. you love helping others, as long as they don't try to take advantage of your kindness.

your dominant element is fire. you have a warm heart, even though it may be covered by your confidence and independence. in fact, you always strive for the first place. people may be intimidated by your presence, as you're a serious competitor. thanks to this competitive nature of yours you may be very positive and optimistic, making you a good and supportive friend/partner.

🌎 ascendant in cancer, 15° / 2nd decan ruled by the moon and pluto

with your ascendant in the sign of cancer, you appear way more sweet and approachable than your virgo sun, which is obviously very beneficial for you. being a water sign, cancer risings individuals are very intuitive and emotional, and that is exactly how you approach the world. you rely more on your 6th sense rather than logic, and mixed with your virgo sun you're both logical and empathetic. you can read people's mood very well, it's easy for you to understand whether someone is sad, angry, happy... because of that, you always try to make people feel at ease, you're always kind with people, and that makes you extremely likeable. also, since cancer is ruled by the moon, you're probably a very genuine person. it's hard for you to hide your real emotions, and even if you wanted to hide them you wouldn't be capable. you could also have frequent mood swings. you have a strong sense of family and comfort to you, and hence it's extremely essential for you feel at ease to truly be yourself. let's suppose you're with a group of friends, and they suddenly bring someone with them that isn't very nice; you would probably get very stiff, and your mood would immediately go down. you also tend to be like a mother / sister to others, you hardly ever have superficial bonds. physically, since cancer is ruled by the moon you may have very round and big features to you; you could have big, watery and round eyes with perfect lashes, a button nose, plump lips... in addition, you may be petite or average height, and you could bloat easily.

cancer venus conjunct cancer ascendant: you have the planet of beauty (venus) conjunct your appearance (ascendant). you're surely very attractive! even if you're not a conventional beauty, there's still a certain charm to you that can't get overlooked. you're very feminine and polite, especially with strangers. you care about the impression you make on others, even though you shouldn't worry that much, as it's generally good. you're probably very sociable, it doesn't matter whether you're introverted or not. you still have amazing social skills, and you also have a very charming voice. you literally draw people to you, I imagine it's not hard for you to make new friends and engage in conversations randomly. you also care a lot about the way you look, hence you probably have a skincare/workout routine, and you're fond of shopping and selfcare in general. you want to always look at your best; that's caused by the fact that you're secretly quite of insecure about your looks. you may have the tendency to think that the compliments you receive aren't honest, and people are just trying to be nice to you. another downside to this placement is that you may attract people's jealousy. even though this could be a self-esteem boost for someone, it may be hard for one to handle, in your case especially in relationships, maybe with your friends, but I'll talk more about this later.

cancer ascendant square libra mars: you could say things impulsively, and sometimes you're too blunt and hurt people's feelings. you don't do it on purpose, though, there's no malice behind your acts; it's just your natural way to express your opinions. on the other hand, you probably have a very strong charisma to you that makes you look very captivating and bold. people see you as a leader, and hence they could get intimidated by your presence. to cope with this placement, you can try controlling yourself and your words before speaking. I'm aware that it's a way to vent your anger, but you can find another way that doesn't hurt others.

🌞 sun in virgo, 8° / 1st decan ruled by mercury

this is the least intimidating virgo decan. you probably have a reputation for always being calm and elegant, as you try to avoid conflicts as much as possible. you're very smart and insightful, and you strive for perfection; in a room, you always want to be the best, whether it's fashion-wise, or maybe at work or school. you're a perfectionist, you can't bear being #2. to be perfect, you don't bring others down like aries, though. that's because you want to prove your power to yourself, not to others. it's like a way to increase you low self-esteem. in fact, it depends a lot on your achievements; if you don't meet your expectations, you start going through a hard time of insecurity and struggles. you find beauty in aesthetically-pleasant things, therefore you care a lot about hygiene and possibly about looks too. for example, your house probably looks very neat, and you chose your furniture wisely. you clean it everyday, you can't stand dust or any bad smells. you're also very organized, but you tend to base your life too much on a schedule. you love communicating, despite your taurus moon that definitely makes you more secretive than other virgo suns. your eyes talk for you, though. you're also very introspective, and you're fond of art and creativity in general. you're very critical, both of yourself and of others. you don't do it with malice, though, but you want to frequent people that try to be at their best all the time, just like you after all.

virgo sun square gemini jupiter: this is a hard aspect, which could make you feel even more proud of yourself due to your taurus moon. you may feel like the universe is constantly against you, especially with your pessimistic virgo dominance. you may feel unlucky, or even overindulge in things you like to cope with sadness or anger. you may have the tendency to overeat, buy useless things etc. you go from having a low self-esteem, to even looking very bossy without even realizing it. you struggle to keep your identity balanced, even though you might have not been aware of it at first. to achieve fortune and joy in life, you need to work hard for it. to do so, you have to learn your karmic lessons in this lifetime, which probably revolve around your job and finances.

🌙 moon in taurus, 2° / 1st decan ruled by venus

the moon is exalted in taurus, so it's definitely a good placement! you're very peaceful, you try to avoid conflicts when you can. taurus' most striking feature is that they crave stability, whether it's financial, in love etc. you must be very stubborn, as taurus is a fixed sign, this placement, paired with your imaginative cancer energy, makes you settle on making your ideas concrete, and it's very beneficial. it makes you capable of achieving any goals in your life. you're also very artsy, and you may fancy particular art styles. you have a good eye for aesthetics, and you care a lot about the looks of your house, body, clothes etc. you have excellent concentration, and that is another thing that helps you achieve your goals and make your ideas concrete. last but not least, you're amazingly patient, and that makes you a great friend. probably, they vent a lot of their worries to you, as you're also a great listener.

taurus moon opposite scorpio pluto: your emotions are so intense that they almost scare those around you. in fact, you're prone to accentuated mood swings; when you're happy, you start smiling and laughing joyfully. when you're sad, you're the type to cry, scream, even throw up in some cases. that's how far you go with your emotions. maybe, you also feel repressed to express your feelings exactly for this reason. you probably also have a conservative/possessive mother (or just any member of your family), with whom you don't feel at ease expressing your emotions. or maybe, your mother was absent throughout your life. on the other hand, you can understand others' feelings, but be careful not to use it to manipulate others. you could also be very paranoid, and might develop addictions and anxiety disorders, especially with your sensitive cancer rising.

🗣 mercury in libra, 0° / 1st decan ruled by venus

you're very diplomatic! you always try to be nice and gentle with your words, you don't want to hurt anyone's feelings. your tone of voice is extremely soft, sometimes it could even be hard to understand what you say, as you could naturally have a low voice. you're extremely balanced, you have amazing problem-solving skills as you're able to see both side of an argument. it's natural for you to understand what's right and what isn't, and most of the times you're actually right. when you're with someone you're not really close to, you could even be the accommodating type who allows others to speak over your voice, or maybe you let others speak first as a gesture of kindness. I feel like with your mars dominance you have very strong opinions, and you're actually particularly proud of them. luckily, this placement makes you able to communicate them with diplomacy. you could often get angry if someone tries to prove you wrong, but aside from that, you try to be very elegant and formal when you speak. you're probably not fond of cursing, or at least you try to appear as mannered as possible with people you're not comfortable around. last but not least, you're such a charismatic, smooth talker that you result very persuasive. you're able to trick people with your words, which appear very diplomatic and calm.

libra mercury square sagittarius saturn: this placement gives you limitations and lessons regarding the way you think and talk. it may be that you’re too shy to approach others and to say what you think, so you just don’t try. otherwise, if you actually take action and try to overcome this problem, you could get into troubles. that’s probably caused by the fact that you don’t really pay attention to your words. you may be particularly pessimistic, or maybe you lack confidence in social interactions due to these problems, which could be possibly caused by your parents, or perhaps interfer in your relationship with your family. in fact, you may argue quite often with others, and misunderstandings are also common. this is something that gets naturally better with time, but in order for it to happen you need to take action. you may for example start speaking with others more at work, anything that allows you to challenge your mind and voice, in order to make you gain experiences and become a master at it. many celebrities, once they mastered this hard aspect, got loads of success. you can do that too, you just need to work on it.

❤️ venus in cancer, 22° / 3rd decan ruled by the moon and neptune

when it comes to love, you're extremely affectionate. you need someone who connects to you emotionally, it matters way more than physical attraction. in a partner you look at their manners, not at their appearance, and hence you're probably not the type to fall in love at first sight. you most likely dream of building a family with your future spouse, you want to be a parent not only to your child but also to your spouse. you like nurturing others, you may be attracted to younger or even immature people that need to be 'saved' by someone to become mature, or perhaps you're the one who craves to be nurtured in a relationship. you probably love being called 'baby', 'honey', 'sweetheart'... this type of names that you find extremely sweet. you may also get clingy at times, as you're most likely very fond of pda and skinship as well. the downside to this placement is that cancer brings sensitivity to whatever placement occupies. that means that you get extremely sensitive when it comes to love, and hence you may be the type to get extremely sad, even depressed, after a break-up, or perhaps you could start caring more about your partner's feelings than yours, becoming quite accommodating, so beware of that now that you know it. don't forget to keep your individuality safe.

☄️ mars in aries, 11° / 2nd decan ruled by mars and the sun

you're very impulsive, it's natural for you to act before you think. you're motivated to pursue your goals, and even though this is a chaotic placement, I think it's a good match with your taurus moon. it mitigates taurus' laziness. you're a natural born leader, you love being the boss and being seen as a point of reference, even though this could make you seem a bit bossy when working in groups. people may see you as fearless, but that's because you don't think much about your decisions. even if you make a wrong choice, you don't give up and try anything to solve it. in fact, you can't stand losing. you're a serious competitor, you always strive for the 1st place. that's also caused by the fact that, with your cancer rising, you're likely afraid that people could see you as too weak, and then take advantage of your kindness. you're very defensive, but your purpose isn't hurting others, but protecting yourself.

🏡 houses

your 1st house is in cancer, with also your venus sitting in this house. the first house rules the exterior, while the moon, cancer’s ruler, rules the inner part of yourself. that means that the way you look depends on how you are inside; if you’re sad, you may have this very depressed look not only on your face, but also in your eyes above all. or perhaps, you could be the type to be what you eat, so you could gain weight easily as soon as you don’t eat clean. you could also be quite weak, you don’t really have high stamina, you’d rather sleep than work out, but being physical active is extremely important for you. you come across as someone very shy, and you most likely are, even though you give off very good vibes, you don’t look intimidating like your scorpio moon would. venus here also makes you come off as someone very kind and warm, people probably look up to you for your charm. you are probably very smart and you could also be a very smooth-talker. physically, you may also have an heart-shaped or round face, with a defined cupid's bow and doe eyes. possibly, you may also have freckles. the ruler of the 1st house is in the 10th house: you are most likely a very mature individual. you probably love your job, you like being in charge and leading people. you could possibly be a bit materialistic, but you work hard to achieve your goals.

your 2nd house is in leo. your self-esteem depends on matters like money, possessions, as well as your influence on others. you may feel confident when you’re praised and spoiled with compliments and material things, you may enjoy being in the spotlight as it increases your self-confidence, even though you’re quite shy so you don’t feel very at ease. you feel confident when you’re able to earn money and you’re financially stable, and hence you probably felt guilty as a child to ask your parents for money for example. you probably love luxury, you aspire to become very wealthy, live in the house of your dreams, etc. you could also dream of becoming famous. and actually, with this placement, you could make money from leo-related matters, and hence being in the spotlight, creativity (especially theatre / drama), comedy, etc. the ruler of the 2nd house is in the 3rd house: you could possibly gain money through communication, and hence you may become very wealthy thanks to things such as teaching, writing, translating, singing, etc .

your 3rd house is in virgo, with also your sun placed there. you’re very precise and polite in the way you express your thoughts. you’re probably very careful to grammar, vocabulary etc… you love looking and being knowledgeable. you’re more of a logical type rather than an intuitive person, you hardly ever do something only out of curiosity. you’re very cautious about the decisions you make, and hence it could take you some time to finally choose something, but that’s because you just don’t want to regret anything. you think deeply about your choices, and most of the time they turn out to be right. you’re strongly opinionated, but you may be a bit too harsh when you express your ideas. sometimes you could even hurt someone, as you’re extremely honest. you don’t like sugar-coating your words. you’re also very intelligent and hard-working, and you can’t stand messy things. you’re probably very neat, you like having schedules and you may even keep an agenda / diary where you keep track of your appointments and other things you have to do.

your 4th house is in virgo, with also your libra mercury there. this is another placement that points out that you lack something due to your family. maybe they couldn’t spend much time with you, as they were busy with work. or maybe, they were overprotective of you, making you insecure. probably even both. this doesn’t mean that you’re hurt, you may not even be aware that you’re lacking a piece of yourself actually. yet, it’s still there, and it influences you a lot on your day-to-day affairs. it could also be that one of your parents was particularly strict, and hence you had to grow up sooner than other kids. or perhaps it's the opposite, you felt like it was impossible for you to grow up, as you had to depend on your parents.

your 5th house is in scorpio, with also your pluto being here. your hobbies most likely include self-expression of any kind, anything that you consider private is told through your creativity. also, with scorpio in this house, you may as well be attracted to darker hobbies like astrology, tarots… possibly, you may be into thriller or even into horror. you may also like psychology, criminology… this type of things that are able to stimulate your mind in some way. you could possibly want to be a risk-taker, deep down. also, you want to become a master in what you like, and hence you tend to go extreme to become perfect. you may dedicate a lot of your spare time to your hobbies, for example, even if you have to work. your romantic relationships may be very intense, you could attract particularly jealous or even obsessive partners in your life. some of them may be painful, but they’ll be essential to become mature and grow up into a better, wiser person. in addition, I see you as the type of person who doesn’t like showing off their partner. you probably keep both your love interests and hobbies personal, you only talk a little about them to your close, trusted friends, especially with your pluto in this house that makes this energy even stronger.

your 6th house is in sagittarius, with also saturn, uranus and neptune sitting there. you are most likely very dedicated to your routine; you could have some workaholic tendencies, you feel the need to be perfect at whatever you want to do in life. in fact, you probably don’t realize that you work more than you should, as you have fun at work and you also like taking care of yourself. if you’re into exercising, you could be the type to workout everyday even if it’s not necessary because it makes you feel good. or perhaps, you could literally skip your sleep just to finish a book you started writing. you’re used to work hard, and hence you most likely do it with pleasure if it involves something you love doing. you try to be very productive in your day-to-day life, even though you don’t mind including fun and relax in your routine either. you may have a ‘light’ work, that is you could turn an hobby of yours into a job, or perhaps you’ll make lots of friends or even lovers on your work place that will make it more pleasant for you to go to work. you may also be very lucky, you could easily get jobs that offer a nice income for example. your health could be good, even though you may struggle with it at first. you could also be inconsistent with diets or workouts for example, and you could suffer from sudden diseases. you could also suffer from poor mental health too, such as an anxiety disorder for example.

your 7th house is in capricorn. this placement makes you very patient with other people, you could be the type to give other possibilities to others for example. capricorn in the 7th house may also manifest in a lack of romanticism in an individual, but I don’t think it’s totally your case. I assume that you are quite romantic, but exactly because of your romanticism, you tend to get very picky. you want your partner to meet your ideals of perfection, and hence you may often end up not dating anyone, or being let down by your own lovers. actually, you could even be afraid of love, especially because there could be a lot of karma around your relationships. you could have to experience lots of hardships throughout your love life, but they’ll help you become more mature. it’s also recommended to get married after your saturn return with this placement, hence after your 27/28 years. you may in fact attract partners that could be quite moody and unconventional, probably very unpredictable as well. with the ruler of the 7th house in the 6th house, you may marry a co-worker of yours, or maybe your boss. perhaps, you may even meet them at your work place, or you two will work in the same field.

your 8th house is in aquarius. you could possibly have an unexpected yet barely painful death, or perhaps someone in your life has died / will die all of a sudden, you may often experience scenarios of this kind. possibly, you could even die due to electricity, and or at least it will be a very fast death, I don’t see it being violent or turbulent at all. or maybe, you’re surrounded by unpredictable events of loss of any kind in your life. that is, it could also happen with your money. it’s important not to risk too much with this placement, especially with gambling, or you may end up getting in serious problems. you’re fascinated by the occult, and you may even be/been able to talk to dead people. you’re very intuitive, and it’s easy for you to read through people’s words. you may as well have prophetic dreams.

your 9th house is in aquarius again. you’re an avid believer of your philosophical and cultural beliefs. you may be interested in teaching, and you could do it through innovative and technological tools. you’re also interested in foreign music, books, movies and any type of hobby. you may be attracted to genres like thriller, sci-fi… you could also believe in aliens. at school you may be considered particular, almost weird for your interests. you’re open-minded, as you appreciate the differences in people and cultures all over the world. jupiter here gives you the natural need to keep grasping information around not only in school but in your life in general, as knowledge is where you find happiness. you hate being told what to do, you want to be free in the decisions you make. you may have to live unexpected situations, as 9th house is also about experiences. you’re the type to feel proud doing something never seen before, as you aspire to be a trend-setter. this may also manifest in your musical, fashion etc. taste. you’re also very opinionated, and you defend your beliefs pretty strongly.

your 10th house is ruled by pisces, with also your mars and the moon placed there. you may be unsure of your future career, or at least indecisive. you may want to do different things, or maybe you have completely no idea. hopefully, the rest of the reading will shed some light on you. usually, people with pisces in the 10th house’s cusp make great healers, hence you may become a doctor of any kind, especially a psychologist. you may also work in the creative, artistic field, e.g you could be an artist, a writer, a musician etc. finding a career is your ultimate goal in life, and it will most probably include communication and mental stimulation of any sort. it’s pretty much the source of your confidence and energy, what your life revolves around. you may have to connect with people on an emotional level for your job, you could probably pursue a creative career that will allow you to express your feelings. I repeat that you would make an awesome psychologist, as you’re able to understand people’s deeper emotions.

your 11th house is in taurus, jupiter is also placed in this house. you could possibly attract people with taurus traits, and hence your friends could be quite stubborn and possessive, but also very loyal and responsible. they could possibly be wealthy, and they could have some artistic, creative interest and / or talent just like you. you may have some trust issues, you’re careful about who you trust, and hence you’re quite cautious about who you befriend. your long-term goals include financial stability, you may be quite materialistic as you enjoy wealth. yet, I assume that thanks to your water placements you’re not as work-focused as other earth placements, you actually also value emotions and feelings too. I feel like you probably have very big goals and dreams that you want to come true. venus indicates that you’re most likely very lucky, and hence you have the potential to achieve everything you desire. jupiter in the 11th also indicates that you may often befriend people, you may be very sociable and make friends easily or perhaps you just attract lots of people in your life. the ruler of the 11th house is in the 1st house: your ultimate goal could involve being confident, maybe achieving your ideal image of yourself. you may also have friends that are very similar to you personality-wise or even physically.

your 12th house is in gemini. the 12th house is the house of fears and gemini rules over communication, and hence you could be afraid to approach others, you’re very shy. you don’t like speaking in public either, same goes for expressing your opinions. you’re always afraid that people may judge you for your ideas, your interests and for the way you speak. on the other hand, you’re a quite spiritual individual. during your sleep you probably get to have lots of meaningful dreams, even though you may sometimes not remember many of them, or even none. it’s a skill of yours that you’ll be able to embrace once you finally wake up spiritually. as I’ve already mentioned above, you could have prophetic dreams and, with gemini’s presence in this house, spirits, angels and other higher entities may try to communicate with you through your dreams or subconscious. you may also be the type to talk non-stop when you’re drunk, and you may even have a habit of talking to yourself. the moon here indicates that you tend to keep your feelings private, you don’t like sharing how you feel. the best way to get to know yourself is being alone and exploring your inner self, maybe even by using tools like astrology, meditation, tarots, etc. you also tend to have lots of energy and ideas, but you may struggle to take action. you could be quite lazy, in a certain sense, or perhaps your energy consists of sporadic bursts rather than constant motivation.

❤️ love life, soulmates

in love you attract capricorn, pisces, cancer and scorpio placements. your future spouse will most likely have cancer and scorpio traits placements; they’ll be very reliable, mature and responsible m, but also with a warm heart and a hidden insecurity to them, even though they are most likely very possessive. they could be very family-oriented, and they won’t lack passion either. your chart hints that you’ll most likely meet them through your friends, perhape they're going to become your friend first and then you'll start dating. you could possibly also meet online, or perhaps during a tough period of your life, when you're growing up. your children will have heavy scorpio / aries traits; they’ll be very active, especially physically, and astute. they’ll be very attached to you and your family in general, even though they could get too possessive, jealous and immature at times. they’ll be very assertive and atheltic as well.

👶🏻 family life

your mother is probably very hard-working, and she has a strong role in your family. she loves being spoiled and appreciated, together with receiving attention. yet, she could sometimes be quite superficial because of that, but deep down she’s very romantic and mannered. she may have gemini placements, or maybe taurus, libra or virgo. your father is a bit softer than your mother, and he might be a pisces or have any type of fire/sagittarius placement in his chart. your father could be a bit moody and / or unpredictable, and he may also have some addictions in the worst case. yet, he also has a very sweet and outgoing side to him that he may struggle to let out. if you have siblings, they’re probably virgos/ fire signs. you have a very pleasant relationship with them, you're all very playful and generous and you used to always stand up for each other, even though there could have been a bit of competition.

📊 career

you most likely have great communication skills and writing abilities. you’re very logical and precise, you’d definitely do well in a field that requires calm and organization. I can also picture you being an amazing teacher or even professor. based on your other placements, you could also do well at literally any creative career! you may be a dancer, a singer, or even something more complex like a creative director. otherwise, you could also be successful as a designer, an architect, a scientist… something that allows you to be mostly independent, but that can still guarantee you mental stimulation and a decent income, and that also allows you to use your creative neptunian energy. last but not least, I also see you being an incredible healer, therefore you would make a skilled therapist, psychologist or even a nurse.

👚 fashion sense, style analysis

your style is most likely very androgynous, you wear pieces of clothing that are literally suitable for everyone. you probably prefer wearing oversized fits rather than tight clothes, and you're also fond of sweatshirts, big cardigans or jackets, oversized t-shirts... anything that feels very comfortable, but that still has some feminine, classy energy to it. you may like softer, natural shades of colours like white, beige, black, etc. in your clothes, and you could also enjoy prints and graphics on them. you may also be attracted to vintage fashion.

👁 past life, life purpose

during your past life, it was hard for you to get out of your comfort-zone. you preferred staying in your small environment rather than challenge yourself. that made you again awareness of how to act in small communities, but this lifetime you need to go farther than that. you need to prove that what you learned in your past life is the key to nurture your skills, and be able to apply them in a larger environment. you may find yourself travelling a lot, gaining lots of widsom from your experiences... in this lifetime, you basically need to learn through the communication abilities you gained in your previous life.

🤔 major transits analysis / may 26th

since your natal pluto is conjunct your transit moon, you may feel particularly moody in these days. it could be that you’re starting to crave love or communicating in general in the first place, but in addition you also feel the need to change. you may feel very intense emotions, but at least you have a stronger will-power, therefore your manifestations may come true quicker for instance. just be careful not to stress yourself by being too bossy or suspicious. especially since today it's the total lunar eclipse with jupiter in pisces, take it easy! take a day off if you can, or at least try doing something relaxing. luck is on your side, just keep your vibrations high.

🧿 manifest what you want, secret skills

your secret skills revolve around finances and just security in general. with a positive attitude, you may attract material luck: money, clothes, houses… everything that you desire. since you’re a logical person, I assume the most efficient way for you to manifest through the LOA is writing! take a notebook and just write down positive affirmations, such as 'I have the car of my dreams’ etc. you may also write them on post-its and glue them around your house, so that you can accelerate the progress. you can also try to idealize your wish before trying to manifest it. for example, if you want a new sweatshirt, try to imagine yourself wearing it. you could also go into a shop and actually try that sweatshirt it on; being in contact with it will boost the law of attraction even more.

and this is the end! thank you again for booking a reading, let me know if you have any questions :) - libramc xx

#astrology

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lonestarbabe · 4 years ago

Text

Eye of the Storm: Chapter 3: The Road You Take Alone

*Can be read as a stand alone (AO3)

Carlos tries not to let his mental health spiral out of control.

Carlos isn’t used to waking up to an empty bed, and he misses hitting a limb when he stretches his body too far onto the other side. Even though T.K. still technically lives with his dad, he’s been spending a good deal of time at Carlos’. Carlos has gotten used to having him around, so when he’s gone, it’s too quiet, and Carlos can hear his thoughts rage in the stiff air of his mind, forming hard peaks like beaten egg whites. His thoughts are becoming unruly. They’re angry and anxious. You’ll never be happy, they tell him. Something will always make you feel dissatisfied. Things always go wrong, and you never know when the awfulness will strike, so you have to be prepared for all the badness that will come. If you aren’t prepared, bad things will happen.

His head pounds as the thoughts crescendo. His bed is lumpy under his body and his sheets are oddly scratchy. Usually, his bed is a safe little oasis, and the worrying doesn’t start until his feet reach the floor, but his thoughts are bolder today; they have no regard for those blessed moments of aimless contemplation that he loves so much. There’s no time for you to be tranquil. The world is unhinged, and you’ve got to find a way to fix it, or at least your little part of it. I just want to relax. No time for that. You’ve got to start your day. Five more minutes. Start your day. Two more minutes. Start your day. One more minute. I won’t say it again: start your day.

There’s so much he has to do, he knows that, but his mental to-do list is disjointed like building blocks after a child has torn them and scattered them across the room during a tantrum. He needs to piece them back together, but it takes so much energy just to do that let alone tackle the items on the list. The world is an overwhelming place when you can’t even process your own thoughts. I need to get going or I’m going to waste the entire day. Listen to yourself. You’ve got to hurry up and get something done before you give up on trying. I can do this. Getting my shit together can’t be that hard, can it?

Order is not something that Carlos likes to do; it is something he has to do. It keeps me from losing my head. Nothing feels right when left to chance, so each morning, he shakes the question marks as well as he can. He plans and he prepares for the day ahead. He lists the things that are likely to go wrong, and he thinks of ways he’ll address them when they happen. He reminds himself that he can handle the obstacles because, at one time or another, he has prepared for them all. But there are too many variables, and you cannot alphabetize a list if you don’t know the first letters of the items on that list. You can make deductions and guesses, but you can’t know. It is fruitless to try to control the inevitable mystery that comes with being alive, but Carlos tries. If he thinks about a thought long enough, he can work it to death. Once it’s dead, he can feel okay. For a while.

He’s got his thoughts under control most of the time. He’s learned to work through them efficiently, shoving them out of the way each morning and each night before they can drag him too far down into the abyss of rumination. While he’s taught himself to work through them quickly, some days, thoughts are sticky. They are gum glued to the ground with superglue, waiting for an unsuspecting shoe. The thoughts cling to his mind, oozing over the information he actually needs, and he has to work just a little bit harder to scrape them off of the walls of his brain.

Thank god people couldn’t see thoughts because if they could, they’d see that Carlos’ thoughts are twisted remnants of what thoughts should be. They’re the warped pieces of metal left after a plane crash— they don’t have much function, but their sharp edges can cut you. He doesn’t want today to be one of those days that brings those destructive thoughts to the forefront of his brain, but Carlos feels darkness sneaking into his brain with about as much stealth as a cat with a giant bell weighing down her steps. Somedays, it slips in without a trace, but it doesn’t matter because no matter how it comes, it always gets in.

He wishes he didn’t have the day off work. The space in his schedule leaves too much room for intrusion. Distraction has always been the thing that keeps Carlos sane. Work, working out, going out with friends are some of the things that keep him on his toes and feeling level. Distraction can’t take away all the darkness, but it can hold it away until it finally crawls back into bed with Carlos one quiet morning.

He should have known that the darkness would come on like this. The darkness – that’s what he’s always called it, but he isn’t sure whether the name makes it sound worse or better than the clinical name. You wouldn’t expect it from him, the depression, but it’s a familiar foe. He’s usually the one that people use as a strong pillar, and he hates how weak the darkness makes him feel. His depression comes in waves, and it comes unexpectedly. Some things may trigger the depression, sure, but it can come when he’s feeling good, just as it can come when he’s already feeling bad. It usually doesn’t last long, but it waxes and wanes and hangs over him even when he can’t see it.

It’s time to get up, his brain persists, urging him to suck up the lowness in his core and get on with what he has to do. Stop lazing around and do something. You could get so much done today if you just did it. Why are you like this? What’s stopping you other than yourself? Do something. Anything.

He drags his feet over the side of the bed, and the ground comes against his heels too fast, and he has to balance himself to not tumble back into bed. Oh, but I’m tempted. I could give in to the urge, wrap myself in blankets, and close myself off to the world. As the urge to do nothing calls to Carlos, his need for order also beckons. He has a routine for a reason because that routine keeps him from spiraling. One missed part of his routine can turn into pacing his apartment for two hours replaying his whole morning in his head to catch any discrepancies.

Somehow, I’ve got to get through this day. Carlos has learned that when a day seems impossible, you have to take it one step at a time, but he’s never been a one step at a time kind of guy. He’s good at taking tiny, careful steps because they feel safe and require the precision he’s programmed himself to give, but those baby steps grate on him. They bring out the obsession and make him exert way too much energy for what should be easy. He becomes consumed by little details that shouldn’t matter until he can’t think anymore.

The perk of a small apartment is that it doesn’t take long to pull his body to the kitchen and drag his feet down the stairs. Carlos feels like a robot as he prepares breakfast. Prepares is a strong word for what he does, but on days like today, pulling a toaster pastry from a shiny aluminum packet counts as preparation. The treat should taste like cinnamon sugar, but it’s cardboard against his tongue. He finishes it, and then he eats its waiting twin because he knows that’s what he should do. He washes his breakfast down with instant coffee that looks and tastes like mud.

He doesn’t have to clean the dishes because he’ll use the mug for more coffee when he’s showered, but even though he ate neatly and didn’t make much of a mess, he wipes down the counters as he usually does to simulate a normal day. Because I need to act normal. You’ll never be normal. But I can try.

After he cleans up breakfast, fatigue pulls at his eyes. I could just go back to bed. I have nothing to else to do, so I might as well just give up. What else am I going to do with my time? Going back to bed won’t make him feel any less tired, though, so he decides to force himself into the shower. He stands under the hot stream, letting it purify his thoughts more than his body. He stands there until the hot turns cold, and he’s so deep in his thoughts that he doesn’t notice the change until his teeth begin chattering.

Carlos forces himself into new clothes, and he doesn’t know what to do next. He’s restless. You have so much to do. Your life is a mess. Start by trying to clean that up, and then, we’ll go from there. If you can’t get your act together, you’re hopeless. Cleaning— I can handle that.

Cleaning isn’t Carlos’ idea of fun, but it seems like the natural solution to messiness, and maybe if he can get his living space spruced up, he can sort out the clutter in his head. He’s diligent when he cleans. He doesn’t just scrub surfaces; he uses three different products to make sure every square inch is wiped off as well as humanly possible. It probably doesn’t make much of a difference, but putting so much effort into something keeps his brain from scrambling. He dusts every crevice, and he vacuums using all the attachments to make sure no corner goes untouched. He even wipes down the bottom of his table just because he can imagine how much dirtiness must be under there. Cleaning is just the right amount of mind-numbing to pass the time without making Carlos have to think too hard. Since he’s cleaning, Carlos decides, what the hell, he might as well do some laundry, knocking all the dirty details of life off his list. Getting stuff done normally feels good, but Carlos doesn’t feel much of anything.

The morning blurs into the afternoon, and Carlos only notices the difference when his mom calls just a little after one. Carlos dreads the conversation as much as he’s glad that it will give him something to do. Carlos loves his mom, but she doesn’t stop talking whenever she calls, and she usually comes to him to vent. He doesn’t think she realizes that she’s doing it, and mostly he doesn’t mind, but he’s already feeling drained. Even with tiredness pulling at his brain, he answers the phone because it’s his mother, and how can he not answer the phone? She won’t stop calling until he responds, anyway, so he might as well get it over with. “Get it over with,” what a way to talk about your mother. You can’t try to be just a little nicer? She gave birth to you. The least you can do is listen to her. How much energy could it possibly take? Suck it up and do your job as a son.

His mom’s worked up about Carlos’ brothers’ grades. She gets worked up about his brothers a lot, and it’s not so much that the twins do anything that wrong. Mostly, they’re her last babies, and Ana is having a hard time accepting that all her children have become adults. Carlos’ brothers have never been academic, and he knows no matter what Ana says to them, they’re not going to change. “There’s something wrong. They’re not as diligent as you were,” Ana complains. “I don’t know why they’re so easily distracted.” Carlos wants to tell her, Of course, they aren’t as diligent as I am. They’re not anxious nutcases who try to be angels to keep from causing any negative emotions in other people. They don’t have to be diligent because they’re allowed to be regular kids. They aren’t responsible for their mother’s emotional balance. “They’re smart kids, but they’d much rather make jokes than do their work.”

“That’s hard,” Carlos tries to sympathize, “but they’re hardly kids anymore. They’re in college. You can’t micromanage their grades. I know it’s a challenge for you, but sometimes, you need to let go a little bit. You’ll always be their mother. College isn’t going to change anything.”

Ana tuts, “They still live in my home. They’ll follow my rules. They shouldn’t disrespect their mother. I may not be educated, but that doesn’t mean I’m a fool. I know plenty. It would serve them to remember that. I’ve been on this earth over a half-century!” Carlos’ mom has always been insecure about her lack of higher education. She’d always been good in school, but going to college had not been in the cards for her, and now, she feels lesser with all her children having more education than her. She’s proud of them, Carlos knows— she’s always been so proud of her children— but he can tell that she thinks about all the things she might’ve done if she’d found a way to go to college. In most areas, Ana is confident, but in others, she’s full of insecurity. Maybe that’s how all people are. A bit of confidence and a world of insecurities.

Carlos is quick to reassure Ana, “No one thinks you’re a fool. We know how smart you are, but when you’re young, the wisdom of your mother isn’t that appealing. They’re probably just trying to find themselves. They’re testing their limits, and it won’t always turn out well for them, but they’ll learn. They’ll come back to you when they need your help.” Carlos doesn’t know that. He’s not a psychiatrist, but it sounds like the right thing to say. Ana probably won’t see it that way, though. She never sees things your way, and I don’t blame her. You’re crazy and unstable and act like you’ve got it all under control when you can’t even reassure your own mother properly. What good are you if you can’t accomplish the one thing you’ve been practicing for pretty much all of your life? Get it together Carlos.

Ana goes on, and Carlos knows the conversation has only just started, but he already wants to make an excuse about why he can’t talk any longer. But I can’t do that to her. “I’ve indulged all their interests. It wasn’t easy, but I made sure they could do all the sports they wanted. All I ask is that they keep their grades up, and I don’t like that they aren’t keeping their end of the bargain. I’ve made sacrifices, so many sacrifices.” Carlos always felt a pang of guilt for all the things his mother had sacrificed. They’d never had a lot of money, and Ana had given everything for her children so that they could have whatever opportunities they wanted.

All his life, Carlos has tried not to take too much. I need to be careful what I ask for. If I can’t get it myself, I shouldn’t have it at all. He’d gotten a job as soon as he could. He’s saved his money and paid for as many of his own expenses as possible. She’d never asked him to do it, but he knew how much she gave to her children, and he never wanted the burden of depriving his mother. He hated to see her not having the things she wanted because of her children, so he made a vow to pave his own way. Yet, she’s still given him so much that she will never make him give back. And you don’t deserve any of it. What have you done to deserve it other than being a bitter son who resents his saint of a mother?

He knows that way she makes him feel isn’t normal, and it probably isn’t healthy, but it’s too late to set boundaries, and he knows that she isn’t doing it on purpose. He feels selfish whenever the bitterness pops up. She loves you unconditionally. How can you be mad at that? What kind of a monster resents his mother who has only tried to give him the best? She’s not perfect, but no person is, so why hold her to some unachievable standard. There must be something wrong with you if you cannot accept her how she is. She’s not the problem— you are.

“I know, Mamá, but it’s normal for them to want to stray from the nest.” Ana would never be the kind of mother who took a back seat, even as her kids grew up and started families of their own. So much of her identity is centered around caring for her family, and the changing way she cares for them has made her feel like she’s lost her purpose. She’s one of the most self-sacrificing people that Carlos knows, and even when she’s given all that she could possibly give to her children, she wants to give more.

“You never did. You were always such a good boy.” At what cost? I tried so hard to be what you wanted that I forgot how to be myself. Until he had joined the police academy, Carlos had been unsure of what he wanted. What his mother wanted for him had become such a big part of his mindset that it drowned out what he wanted for himself. He became a chameleon to please her, to boost her confidence, and make her feel like a successful mother, and it was hard to learn to be himself again, which is why sometimes he feels better when he keeps a distance from Ana. He loves her, and he’ll always be close to her, but he also needs a life of his own, or he will go crazy.

“I’m a different person, so I needed different experiences. There’s nothing wrong with that. It just shows that we all have different abilities.” We all don’t feel like we have to change ourselves to be what other people want. “The twins are fine.” They’ve never been that into academics, and they are mostly still in school to continue with sports, so Carlos never expected them to get good grades. “They’re not failing, are they?”

“No, but they can do better.” Not while being happy, Carlos wants to argue. He doesn’t want his little brothers to go through the same turmoil that he has.

“You can’t force it.” Carlos knows better that the more you try to force something, the more out of control you become. Not that knowing that stops you from trying to force control. You can’t help it, can you Carlos? You keep trying to capture something that was never meant to be held. You’ll always come out a loser like that.

“I know that, Carlos, but maybe you should talk to them.” I should have known that this is where the conversation was headed. She always wants me to be the voice of reason, the cool older brother who gives them wisdom that they wouldn’t listen to if it comes from their mother.

Carlos tries to keep the agitation out of his voice. “And say what?” He shakes his head, but she obviously can’t see it. “They’re not going to listen to me either. They think I’m uptight.” Carlos’ family always jokes that he should relax a little, and he does relax. He can be spontaneous and flexible, but it’s harder to be that way in front of his family because they’ve come to rely on his rigidity, his ability to never bend under pressure. It’s all just a façade, but they don’t need to know that. They don’t need to know about the insanity in my head. They would look at me differently if they knew, and I can’t afford their perception of me to change. He’s afraid of what they would think if they knew the truth. What would his mom do if she knew that Carlos wasn’t okay all the time? She would probably blame herself, and Carlos couldn’t have that.

He imagines coming clean, sometimes. It is so lonely to handle the weight of his dysfunction on his own. He likes to fantasize about blurting everything wrong out in one go and not giving a damn what everyone thinks. It would be cathartic, and he wouldn’t feel like he has to hide so many parts of himself because that’s what he is doing. He’s hiding because it’s easy to hide than to own his imperfections. He doesn’t want anyone to see him as broken, especially when they sp desperately need him to be solid.

“They do not see you that way. They look up to you. You’re their big brother. They’ll listen to you. Just tell them to shape up. I’m worried about them.”

“That’s a bad idea. I don’t want to get in the middle of this.” As the oldest boy, Carlos usually takes his role as an older brother in stride, but he’s so exhausted, and he doesn’t think there’s anything he can say that will please everyone involved, least of all himself. He’s not up for handling this family drama, especially when he doesn’t really understand what the drama is. “I don’t think it will help for me to say anything,” Carlos adds so he sounds less defiant, but he’s got to hold his ground on this one thing or he’ll be sucked into a mindset that makes his obsessions and his worries worse.

He hears Ana sighing loudly on the other end of the phone, “Do you think one of your sisters can talk sense into them?”

“Mamá, I don’t think anyone is going to change their minds. They need to take the initiative for themselves.” But she won’t listen to me on that. She can be so stubborn sometimes, and I don’t know how to make her hear what I’m saying. You might as well give up talking because she’s never going to change.

To Carlos’ surprise, his mother laughs. “You sound so much like your father sometimes, Carlos. He always believed that you kids would sort yourselves out if we gave you the room to experiment.” He can hear her smiling over the phone. She always smiles when she talks about Carlos’ dad. “I was never able to be like that. I worry too much. You’re all my babies, you know. Even now that you’re old. I remember holding you in my arms. You were a big baby, but even a big baby is so tiny. I was afraid the world would break you.”

“I got stronger,” Carlos says,

“You were always a sensitive kid. I’m glad you grew out of it. The world is hard on sensitive kids. And foolish ones. Your brothers are foolish ones. They’ve got a lot of ambition. They’ve got good ideas, but they have no sense about how cruel the world can be. You’ve seen the bad. You saw your father’s flaws more than they did. He gave you kids your freedom, but he liked things a certain way.”

“We don’t have to talk about this.” It isn’t that Carlos minds talking about his dad, but he knows a conversation like this can cause his mother to spiral. She tries to hide her mental distress when it happens, but Carlos sees it. Like mother like son. He notices the way she becomes quiet and the way her eyes are red more than they aren’t.

“I want to,” she admits. “Your father could become… withdrawn.” Your freakshow comes from both sides then, huh? “He’d focus on one thing, and everything else would become background noise. You and Glo were old enough to see that.”

“I remember, but that’s not how I remember him. I remember him cooking us meals and running around with us at the park. I remember him reading us books and helping us imagine our futures. I remember hugs when we were scared and soup when we were sick. Everyone has bad days, but Papá’s were mostly good.” Some people are better at hiding bad days than others, but we all have them, especially in my family.

“I never told you kids how he died.” Carlos can barely stand to hear how choked his mother’s voice is. It sends a ripple of fear through him.

Carlos feels his heart skip a beat. He’s not sure why she’s bringing this up now, but nothing that she’s saying is a surprise. She’s never said the words. She’s refused to admit that their father didn’t die in his sleep, but the kids all know. There’s a quiet understanding between them that he’d drunk himself to death. Carlos had never really seen his dad his drunk. His dad had always kept his addiction secret, but there had been signs. Looking back, he always knew. Everyone around them knew, but they didn’t mutter the words. They kept what was behind closed doors behind closed doors, and that never helps anyone.

“We know,” Carlos says so his mother doesn’t have to say it. She’s been denying the true cause of death for over a decade, and Carlos is afraid of what will happen if she says the words out loud. It’s why no one in his family has ever brought it up. “Glo and I figured it out.”

“He wasn’t a bad man.” Carlos only ever saw the part of him that was good. Come on, you knew. You always knew. You pretended you didn’t, but it was clear as day that your dad had a problem, and you should have done something about it. You should put the pieces together sooner and tried to do something about it. Now, he’s not a good man or a bad man; he’s a dead man.

“I know. He was sick,” Carlos says. Just like me. Just like you. Just like all of us. “He did the best he could.”

“I wanted to protect you from it,” Ana says, and Carlos isn’t sure if she’s trying to justify the lies or is slipping back into the delusion. No, you wanted to protect yourself, he wants to shout, but he bites his tongue because he’s not going to fight with a woman who tried to give him everything in her power. Making her unhappy wasn’t going to make him happier.

“It’s okay, Mamá. You did the best you could. You don’t have to be sorry,” and just like that, he absolves her. He always absolves her, even if it means condemning himself. Isn’t that just what a decent son is supposed to do?

When his mother is done talking, Carlos hangs up the phone. He stops fighting the thoughts growing louder in his brain. He gives in to the urge he’s been resisting all day, and he goes back to bed. Because what’s the point of staying up any more. What else do I have to do? Sleeping will make the day go quicker, and right now, that’s what Carlos needs.

When Carlos wakes up, he doesn’t feel refreshed. He’s still thinking about the conversation he had with his mother, and he thinks that maybe he should call his brothers after all, but he doesn’t. Instead, he calls his oldest sister, Gloria, because as the oldest sibling, she knows very well how it feels to be given more responsibility than you are prepared to carry. “Did Mamá call you?” Carlos asks after a brief greeting.

Gloria laughs, “She called me first. It was unusual. You know you’re the favorite.” You’re only the favorite when something goes wrong and needs fixing.

“You know that’s no true.” If I am the favorite, it’s because there’s so much of me that I hide. She’s only seen the parts of Carlos Reyes that she needs to see. I’ve buried all the rest because doing so will make her happier. Carlos knows that if his mother knew that he’s not as level-headed as he pretends to be, she wouldn’t feel the same way about him. She wouldn’t turn to him for help, and she wouldn’t talk to him as openly. Telling the truth could destroy the relationship with his loved ones as he knows it, so he chooses to keep silent.

“You’re all she can talk about with her friends. She’s so proud.”

“She’s proud of us all,” Carlos assures his sister.

“That’s what favorite children always say,” Gloria teases.

“You can take a turn being the favorite, Glo. She wants me to talk to Gabe and Dave again. Their grades aren’t high enough for her liking.”

“You set the bar too high and now the poor kids are expected to be straight-A students.”

“Like you were any better.”

“Maybe not,” Gloria says, “But she knows they have trouble in school. David especially.”

“Meanwhile, Gabriel is the one who jokes through his studies.” Gabriel distracts David, who has a hard enough time focusing on his studies in the best of circumstances, so having the two boys together can do more harm than good.

“You didn’t call to talk about the twins, did you?” Gloria asks astutely.

“No,” Carlos admits. “I’m not interested in trying to get their grades up. As long as they're not failing and doing decently well, I don’t see a need to get involved.” He can be honest with Gloria because he knows that she feels the same way that he does.

“Why did you call then?” Her voice is gentle, and it reminds Carlos of when his mom used to sing him to sleep.

Carlos sighs. “I don’t know. I guess I just wanted to check-in. I’m worried about Mamá.”

“She seems okay,” Gloria reassures him.

“She talked about the way Papá really died today, Glo.” There’s a long pause, and Carlos can hear his sister breathing over the phone, but she doesn’t say anything. “Glo? You still there,” he adds to try to get her to reply.

“She actually said the words?”

Carlos’ brain sinks a little. “Well, no. She didn’t say it explicitly, but she admitted that she never told us the truth about what happened.”

Gloria sounds indignant, “As if we didn’t know. The denial has never been for us.”

“I know that.” He crosses his arms over his chest like a petulant child.

“Did you tell her that?” Gloria’s voice has raised just enough that Carlos knows this conversation has gone off course. He doesn’t know why he chose to do this to himself, on a bad day especially. He doesn’t have the energy, but since it’s too late to get out of the situation, he has to find it. When he needs to, he can always embezzle it from other parts of himself that need less upkeep. When he has bad days, sacrifices must be made.

Gloria sounds annoyed now. “Of course, you didn’t. You never tell her how you feel.”

“What does it matter to you?” It’s his life and his feelings. He can tell them to whoever he wants.

“Because you shouldn’t censor yourself anytime she has a mood. She’s not going to stop having them just because you cater to her and I know it’s a lot for you to manage. You’re not responsible for protecting someone else from themselves.” But that’s what Carlos has always done. He’s a protector by nature, and when he sees someone in trouble, he steps in.

“Be nice. She’s your mother.” Gloria’s frustration with her mother is obvious. It’s not that she’s not sympathetic, but she’s never experienced what Gloria has experienced. She doesn’t understand how hard it is to rise above your bad days.

“And I love her, but she needs professional help. Too much of her life is centered around being our mother. She can’t rely on us to fill in all her gaps. She needs a life of her own. I hate seeing her when she gets bad, and she’ll keep getting bad unless she decides to make a change.” If Ana knew that she was talking about her this way, it would devastate her, and just the thought of her overhearing this conversation makes Carlos want to end it, but he lets Gloria say her piece.

“Well, that’s never going to happen.” That’s the problem. He knows that she’s never going to seek help on her home, so it’s either he tries and fails to help her or he doesn’t try at all. Trying feels better than doing nothing.

“So what then? You have to be whatever makes Mamá happy?” Isn’t that what I’ve been? How can I be anyone else at this point? She needs me, and I can’t let her down. Carlos knows that they don’t have healthy boundaries, but that’s just how his family is.

“I don’t always choose what Mamá wants.” For as many concessions he makes with her, there are some that he is unwilling to let her cross for his own sanity. “She didn’t like the idea of me being gay.”

“She always accepted your sexuality.” That’s the simple way of putting it. His mom has never been anything but supportive. When he told her, she hugged him and said that she loved him no matter who he loved, but he had always had a feeling that her initial acceptance had been because it would make her a bad mother not to accept him, and being a good mother is the thing that she has always most wanted to be, often to the point of too closely resembling the stereotypical image of a mother.

“I know she always loved me just the same, but it took time for her to get used to it.” He doesn’t remember her saying bad things about gay people, but he had seen her smile fall just a fraction when he told her the truth.

“She’ll get used to other things, too. Your relationship with her can evolve if you let it. It might be better for everyone.”

“I can’t stop worrying about her.” The worry is lodged in his mind. It is one of his oldest friends, and no matter how far he goes, it is part of him. He’s spent so long concerned about his mother that not exhausting so much energy worrying would leave a hole in his life. As messed up as it is, he doesn’t know who he is without his fears. If he let them go, even just some of them, he thinks that things might get even worse. No one else seems to understand the way he needs to indulge the worry to feel safe.

“And I’m not asking you to, but you don’t have to deal with everything alone, hermanito.”

“Yeah maybe,” Carlos says because he’s too tired to argue with her about her. “I’ve got to go Glo,” he says as an escape from the conversation. “T.K. is calling.”

“Okay, Carlos, go talk to your man. I love you.” He’s lucky to have Glo. She’s always trying to look after him when he’s trying to look after everyone else.

“I love you too. Talk soon,” he says before hanging up and putting the phone beside him. The phone is silent now, and he misses the noise, but he is relieved that he doesn’t have to listen anymore just the same.

He lays back on his couch and flips the TV on. He turns to his favorite crime drama, the one that got him interested in law enforcement, but he doesn’t pay attention. He lets the scenes pass through his brain mindlessly without leaving a dent in his memory. He stays there for hours, only getting up when he’s hungry or needs to use the bathroom. He lets the hours blur until his mind is so numbed that he needs to do something just to remember there’s a world outside his apartment.

To find a connection to the outside world, Carlos has T.K. over in the evening because starting the next morning, T.K. has to work for two days, and Carlos doesn’t want to wait that long to see him even though he’s not in the mood to be around people.

When Carlos opens the door to his apartment, T.K. throws his arms around Carlos. He tilts his head up for a kiss. He smells sweet, and maybe time with his boyfriend is exactly what T.K. needs. “You don’t know how glad I am to see you.” T.K.’s hold is firm and the weight of T.K. against his chest knocks out the breath that Carlos has been holding.

“Long day?” Carlos asks. T.K. opens his mouth, but he looks at Carlos’ face and closes it again; T.K. swallows hard, pushing the words on the tip of his tongue down to his stomach. He can tell that something is wrong with you. Get your act together. He doesn’t want to hear about all your issues. Keep that shit to yourself and don’t bother your boyfriend about it.

T.K. says, “You look tired.” Tired was too light of a word for the utter depletion Carlos felt in his bones. You’re so whiny. Could you shut up for just five seconds? You’re giving me a migraine.

He’s not going to like that answer because for some reason he wants to learn everything about you, even the worst parts of Carlos Reyes. “That doesn’t answer my question.” They could circle like this forever, redirecting each other’s words because neither wants to burden the other with what they both try and fail to hide.

Carlos doesn’t miss the way T.K.’s eyes are overcast, but he watches T.K. tug a smile onto his face as he pulls back whatever he might’ve said if he hadn’t noticed that something was off with Carlos. Carlos feels guilty. You’re the worst boyfriend. You can’t even support him when he needs you. I’m trying. Not hard enough. T.K. pecks Carlos’ lips. “I missed you, that’s all,” T.K. adds, and Carlos can’t help but worry that there’s more to it than that. He wonders if his perception is off. Maybe he’s making a lot out of nothing. He tends to do that. You sure do.

They order pizza and put on a movie when Carlos can’t find many words. T.K. picks at the pizza and Carlos doesn’t pay attention to the movie. Aren’t we a fun pair? By the time the credits roll on the screen, Carlos has no idea what just happened as T.K. gives his impromptu review of the movie. T.K.’s excitedly talking, and Carlos doesn’t process the words he is saying, but it feels good to hear T.K. being so full of life when Carlos feels so depleted.

“Yeah,” Carlos says distractedly to something that T.K. says. “That’s true.”

T.K. gives Carlos a confused look. He chuckles. “You’re not paying any attention to me, are you?” His voice is light, but it still makes Carlos feel like shit. Guilt spikes in Carlos’ bloodstream. I should be more attentive when we get to spend time together.

“I’m sorry, Ty.” How many times can you say “I’m sorry,” before it starts to lose its meaning? It’s always the same old story with you Carlos. Try something new for once. I’m so bored.

T.K. shakes his head, “Don’t be. You know I don’t mind talking to myself.” But you shouldn’t have to, Carlos wants to say. Your boyfriend should be more attentive.

“I should still listen.” That’s right you should, but you’re so selfish. You try to do things for other people, but it’s only because you’re greedy for their love.

“Really, it’s fine. I get it.” He doesn’t get anything. “Are you okay?” T.K. asks, and Carlos knows that he should be able to talk about it— the depression, especially. He remembers T.K. telling him once about everything being gray, so he knows T.K. gets how it feels. Carlos’ depression is different than T.K.’s, though. It’s fueled by pathological obsession and worry more than anything else. Still, he thinks T.K. might understand or try to understand more than most people would. He wouldn’t be one of those people who tries to understand and then doesn’t listen. Carlos has met many of those. They hear the word depression, and they start to assume. They think depression is laziness or intense sadness after the loss of a loved one. They think it is just a feeling. “I’m depressed,” they say when they are feeling sad, but they don’t consider what it must like to have depression. It’s not a passing mood Sometimes, they have a deeper understanding, but very few can understand the nuances, and even though T.K. may get how Carlos feels, Carlos doesn’t think he can talk about it. His throat feels like it may close whenever he starts to say the words, so he shuts up.

It’s a strange role-reversal when Carlos tells T.K., “I’m fine.”

T.K. raises his eyebrows, probably because he knows that people who say they are fine are usually lying. “We’re both hypocrites, aren’t we?”

“Yeah? How’s that?”

“We both want honestly about how we are, but we both don’t want to give it.” That might be the closest thing T.K. has been to admitting he’s not fine. It might be the closest he ever will be. Carlos gets it. It’s hard to accept that you might not be okay, especially when other people need you to be okay. It seems simpler to pretend that you’re fine. The thought takes the air from Carlos’ lungs and not in the way that feels like a release.

“I’m not trying to push you to talk about anything, but you know that you can talk to me, right?”

“Of course,” Carlos lies, trying to force a smile.

“Do you need to talk now?” T.K. pushes him just a little further. Carlos shifts his body further from T.K. on the couch, and T.K. sags against the cushions. Maybe now he knows how he makes you feel all the time, the malicious part of Carlos thinks.

“No, I’m good.” He can hear the waver in his voice. I’m so tired, and I can’t shake the drowsiness no matter how hard I try.

“Carlos—” T.K. tries to say, but Carlos will have none of it. He doesn’t want his thoughts or his feelings to be dissected because they’re not something he can share with other people. They’re his alone, and he’s not going to burden anyone else with them if he doesn’t have to.

“Drop it, T.K.” Carlos’ voice is authoritative, and maybe that’s the wrong move because T.K. has never listened much to authority. But to Carlos’ shock, T.K. almost backs down. Almost.

T.K. bites the side of his cheek. “I’m just worried.”

“Well don’t be,” Carlos can’t help but say harshly, and he regrets the words the minute they leave his mouth.

He feels hopeless because he wants to make everything better, but there’s no easy fix for not being okay. There’s no way to wake up and immediately exterminate the termites that chew at the core parts of your mind. You have to swim through a boiling, sludgy roux as it begins to curdle and drag you down with its soiled weight. You have to pull back your skin to see what’s happening inside. You have to hope that something changes even when change is an upside-down mountain that you somehow have to climb.

Carlos isn’t sure he has the energy to climb, at least not right now.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you,” T.K. says, sounding sincere, but it irritates Carlos to hear the worry in his voice.

“You don’t have to worry about me,” Carlos insists, taking on a calmer voice. Try worrying about yourself, he wants to tell T.K., I’m not the one slowly killing myself. No, you’re just worrying yourself to death.

“I’m not an expert, but that’s kind of being in a relationship, isn’t it? Worrying about the other person and wanting to make sure they’re okay.” T.K. puts his arms around Carlos and leans his head up to whisper in Carlos’ ear. “I’m here if you want to talk.” T.K.’s breath is hot in Carlos’ ear, and it warms Carlos to know that he isn’t alone, but it also doesn’t make a difference because there are some things that Carlos needs to keep to himself. He likes to think he’s saving T.K. from the pain of knowing what Carlos struggles with, but deep down, he knows that what keeps his lips pressed shut is the shame that comes with not being the strong, unwavering pillar of support that he wishes he could be. Carlos wants to be that person that doesn’t bend under pressure. He wants to be the effortless kind of okay because most of the time, he is okay, but he has to fight to be that way.

“It’s been a long week,” Carlos admits, but he doesn’t know how to explain the week wasn’t long because it was awful. It’s dragged for no other reason than there’s something off inside Carlos’ brain.

“Jenkins being an asshole again?”

“He’s always an asshole,” Carlos replies about his least-liked coworker. “But no, Jenkins hasn’t been worse than usual. It’s just been hectic,” Carlos explains because that sounds like the most normal reason for not being your normal self.

“How so?” Carlos doesn’t feel like talking, but he doesn’t want to reject the efforts that T.K. is making, so he figures he can just give a little and maybe that will create harmony between them.

“You know how you have a really busy shift and then when your mind stops being pulled in so many different directions, you get really tired, and then you don’t know what to do with your time?” T.K. nods, encouraging Carlos to go on. “It’s like that. I’m crashing after a long several shifts.”

“But you can handle it?”

“Yeah,” Carlos assures, kissing T.K.’s forehead and running a hand through his hair. “All I need is time to recover before my next shift. It helps to have you here.”

“Babe, I’ll be here whenever you need me to be.” But Carlos would never ask that of T.K. T.K. leans his head on Carlos’ shoulder. “I know how hard your job must be. You see some crazy things on patrol.” The funny thing is that it isn’t mostly the things he sees at work that get to Carlos. There will always be incidents that cut deeply, but for the most part, he’s good at compartmentalizing the bad things that happen on the job.

T.K. sits up and leans closer to Carlos, and he kisses the spot just above his collarbone. His lips are soft and warm from the coffee he’d just had, but Carlos can barely sense the warmth. “Is there something I can do to make it better?”

Carlos cannot tell T.K. how he is feeling because this mental tumult is the road he takes alone. It is a road of shame and self-doubt. It is a road of feeling unprepared for each new day. It is a treacherous road that’s just dirt, rocks, and inclines. Carlos wouldn’t want to bring anyone he loved with him down that road. Yet, he knew they would all go down it if he asked— if they knew it existed. They wouldn’t just go down it with him; they’d help him pave it. They’d help him put guardrails on the edges and streetlights in the dark corners. They’d form a community around the darkness. But Carlos isn’t ready to put his secret little road on the map, so all he can do is try to stay on his feet and continue on a lone journey down the road.

#text #my writing #elise writes #my fics #long works #8000 words #eye of the storm

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gumnut-logic · 4 years ago

Text

Late

I had a bit of a rocky night last night with a sick daughter and lots of lost sleep. She’s okay, but I was up between 2.30 and 5.30am. She went to bed at 4.30am and I took the opportunity to relax by writing self indulgent sleepy fic starting with our two eldest boys. I was totally wiped at the time, so didn’t finish it until tonight.

Warning: 2228 words of fluffy self indulgent goop that goes nowhere. Perfectly attuned to a slightly depressed, sleep-deprived Nutty. Also, lots of Virg, possibly so floppy he fell out of character. Ultimately Scotty took over, but it was supposed to be about both of them, so I don’t mind. ::eyes the Scotty fans who have me surrounded::

Many thanks to @tsarinatorment @janetm74 and @scribbles97 for the reading and support. ::hugs you lots::

I hope you enjoy :D

-o-o-o-

It was late.

It had been a very long day.

A very, very long day.

Scott had been held back at the danger zone by bureaucratic nonsense and a CEO throwing a fit over a couple of Thunderbirds parking in his carpark and the resultant damage to a nearby building.

He and his brothers had been digging for hours.

Eventually he had to call it and had sent Thunderbird Two back to base.

He had intended to follow shortly after, but...obstacles.

It was just past three in the morning when One streaked into a hover above Tracy Island. The shift to vertical flight was smooth and mostly subconscious. Scott felt his ‘bird in his bones.

As he lowered her through the gap left by the pool, a dim light from the lounge told him he wasn’t the only one awake.

He had his suspicions who it might be and that only had him working through post-flight faster.

It could be Grandma, but chances were it was Virgil waiting for him to come home.

He didn’t always do this. Only after the difficult ones.

And this one had been far from easy.

Scott hurried up to the locker room and, shucking his uniform, washed the sweat and grime from his skin. It felt good to be clean, an extra step further away from the tragedy they had left behind.

He didn’t bother getting dressed other than to throw on some pyjama bottoms and an old t-shirt. he would check on his brother, possibly grab a quick bite of food and a drink, and then hit the sack.

He was determined like that.

Sure enough, a quiet step into the lounge and he found his brother in their father’s chair.

Asleep.

Virgil muttered and shifted in his sleep.

There was paper on the desk.

Scott didn’t use much in the way of paper himself. Most of his work was digital, often holographic and as ecologically sound as he could get it.

Virgil, however, did keep a stash of different surfaces to art on in his studio. Paper was one of them. Obviously, some had made it out tonight.

He found his own face staring out of the paper. His drawn self was obviously angry and glaring at a faceless head.

Scott arched an eyebrow at the obscenity scratched into the cartridge under the non-person creature.

Virgil had obviously not been happy that Scott had been held up.

There were other words on the page amongst the drawings. Virgil doodling and possibly venting in the process. Even Scott could see the emotion drawn in graphite.

He sighed.

As if agreeing, Virgil snorted and tried to turn over in the chair, a manoeuvre that wasn’t recommended.

Scott caught his brother under his arms as he tried to slide off the leather upholstery.

He earned a grunt for his efforts. Bleary brown eyes opened and stared up at him. “Sc-t?”

“Hey.” A soft smile. “You planning on camping out tonight?”

Another grunt and his brother tried to right himself in the chair. “You took too long. Why didn’t you sic John on ‘em?”

“I did. But not until tomorrow. John needs his sleep as much as you do.”

“Yes. Yes, he does. Tol’ him.” Virgil’s eyes drifted closed again and he began to sink back into the chair.

“Oh, no you don’t. You’re going to bed, little brother.” Scott gripped Virgil a little tighter and pulled him up and out of the chair.

Various limbs pinwheeled a little and Scott ended up with his arms full of dopey brother, but he got the man on to his feet.

Hell, Gordon had managed to draw in a second pair of eyebrows on Virgil’s forehead once – while the man was supposedly awake and nursing his coffee.

Gordon was a multitalented artist, however, and simply switched mediums.

The honey had Scott blowing a circuit.

But dopey Virgil was a familiar and smile-inducing feature of the Tracy household.

Scott found himself grinning.

“Shuddup.”

Well, at least Virgil had managed a couple of neurons worth of thought.

Scott’s smile only got wider.

Virgil groaned and pushed his brother away and stumbled a little. “’M gonna bed.”

“You do that.” Scott had to stick out a hand and steady him as he wobbled into the side of the desk. “Need a hand?”

That triggered some incoherent grumbling that threatened bear territory. Scott couldn’t help himself and just grinned more as Virgil teetered away in the direction of the elevator.

The fact Scott had to save him from falling into the sunken lounge was probably a sign that the answer to his question was a definite ‘yes’.

The grin turned into a fond smile as he hit the button for the residential levels.

“You neeb togoto bed too.” It was muffled by the sleeve of Scott’s t-shirt.

“That’s the plan.”

“You bedda.”

Scott wrapped an arm around his brother’s shoulders. “Or what?”

More incoherent grumbling.

Scott pulled him in a little tighter as the elevator doors opened.

It was like leading a zombie down the corridor, though Scott could easily empathise. He was looking forward to his own pillow as soon as he saw Virgil to his.

A yawn escaped.

His brother looked up as if the medic had bypassed his brain and booted in safe mode. “You need sleep. Go to bed.”

He gestured towards door to Virgil’s rooms. “After you.”

Virgil frowned. “You first.”

Scott rolled his eyes and, reaching around his brother, activated the door and, with a little manoeuvring, manhandled Virgil into his rooms.

“Hey!”

His hand returned to his brother’s elbow and he marched him into his bedroom, amid protests.

“You need to look after yourself.” Virgil finger was jabbed into Scott’s breastbone.

“Scott?!”

The eldest yanked up the covers and muffled the outraged mutterings. “Yes, Virgil?”

But his protests began to fade away and, as Scott pulled down the covers a little and tucked them in, he realised Virgil’s eyes were already drooping again.

Dopey indeed.

He brushed curls off his brother’s forehead. “Sleep, Virg.”

“Mmm, Sco’, go bed.”

Softly. “I will.”

“Mmmhm.”

Scott couldn’t help but smile a little more as Virgil drifted off.

A final touch to his brother’s hair and Scott straightened, his body creaking enough to remind him, that yes, he needed his bed as well.

He slipped quietly out of Virgil’s room and secured the door. A glance down the corridor, a thought, and he walked quietly down to check on Gordon.

The last he had seen of his fish brother had involved sad eyes and concrete dust. A quiet step into his rooms and he found Gordon as he had suspected he would.

The aquanaut was tangled in his sheets and throttling his pillow.

There was a frown on his face.

Much practised manoeuvring and he managed to straighten the Fish out and untangle him from his bedclothes.

Half asleep protests were halted by a plushie squid that awake Gordon would claim to his death never left the mantle above his bed.

Scott knew better.

His little brother quietened, falling into a deeper sleep.

After that, Scott couldn’t help but check in on Alan. It was probably a fortunate thing, because opening the door found Alan asleep in front of it.

The littlest Tracy had a history of wandering in his sleep. Scott had it checked out and it was directly related to early childhood trauma. Which one was a game of pick one.

It was managed, but occasionally it flared up. One of the most common symptoms was climbing out of bed and sleeping on the floor. Sometimes, the piece of floor chosen was a little inconvenient.

Scott was just happy the piece chosen wasn’t a balcony. Five and now Eos had been tracking Alan while he slept for years and issued alerts if he should wander too far.

Scott slipped into the room sideways and, with cracking knees, lifted his little brother off the floor.

Alan muttered something about Virgil pulling him up, possibly something to do with the day’s rescue.

Scott reached out and touched Alan’s cheek.

His little brother mumbled his name and leant into his hand.

Scott blinked. The emotion that suddenly gripped him was just a sign of how tired he was.

Letting go, he pushed to his feet and slipped from the room. In the corridor, he closed his eyes and leant back against the wall for a moment.

One to go.

He tugged at the collar of his t-shirt. “Eos? You there?”

“Where else would I be?” Despite the smart-ass remark, her voice was quiet. Something she had learnt the hard way.

He ignored the comment. “John’s status?”

“John is currently in REM sleep. No signs of nightmare. Pulse regular, respiration as to be expected, body temperature 36.7 degrees Celsius. John is well, Commander.”

Scott let out a breath. “Thank you, Eos.”

“You’re welcome. Kayo and Mrs Tracy are asleep in their rooms, as is Hiram. Which is a concern, if I may say so, because he left Max on the ceiling.”

A blink. “Again?”

“It would appear so.”

Scott groaned. “Keep him out of the hangars this time.”

“I will try. But you know how he is.”

A grunt and Scott pushed himself off the wall. “I’m going to bed.”

“Good. Virgil was adamant you do exactly that.”

A frown. “Or what?”

“He said ‘or I’ll knock his ass out and drag him there myself’. His tone seemed humorous, however, John said it was a half-truth.” A pause. “Which half, I’m not sure.”

Another grunt. “Both halves, most likely.” To stave off a round of questioning at that, Scott quickly followed up with, “Tracy Island out.”

Sleep.

His body melted into the mattress.

It had been a shitty rescue, but his family was all home, safe, uninjured and resting.

He could let go.

So he did.

-o-o-o-

FIN.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #Scott Tracy #Virgil Tracy

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