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ghostofaboy · 1 month ago

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Day One - Kinktober 2024

Day 1: Leather & Latex / Frottage / Dirty Talk Frankie Morales/Marcus Pike Rating: Explicit | Word Count: 820 Warnings: Frottage, one cheeky finger in the butt.

Ghost of a Boy Kinktober Prompt List | Kinktober '24 Masterlist

Marcus chuckled softly against Frankie’s lips as the pilot’s fingers found his hair, weaving their way through the still damp locks as their bodies pressed together. Frankie huffed in response, moving to bury his face into Marcus’ neck to pepper the skin with kisses.

“Babe,” Marcus sighed happily, still laughing gently, “we can’t. I have to leave for work.”

“I know,” Frankie muttered, pulling back slightly to look into his boyfriend’s eyes. “But I’m horny, we’re both hard, and no one will miss you if you’re half an hour late.”

“They will!” Marcus shook his head with a big smile. “Someone will call, and I’ll have to answer the phone while I’m bent over wi-”

With a moan, Frankie cut Marcus off mid-sentence, capturing his lips with his own all the while rubbing his aching erection against his lover’s. Breaking the kiss Marcus sighed, giving Frankie an amused look.

“Five minutes.”

“Twenty.” Frankie countered, reaching down to rub Marcus’ straining cock through his underwear. Marcus bucked into his hand, moaning softly.

“Ten.” Marcus breathed out. “But you can’t fuck me, we can’t…”

“Ten.” Frankie smiled in agreement, pulling away to quickly grab the clothes out of Marcus’ hands and toss them onto the floor. “We’ll be quick I promise.”

“What are you-?” Marcus began, faltering as Frankie tugged his underwear off to release his already weeping cock.

“Shh.” Frankie pulled off his shorts, his erection bobbing as he grabbed Marcus to drag him closer. “Kiss me.”

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Frankie pulled Marcus down onto his lap, trapping their cocks between their bodies as he began to plunder the younger man’s mouth.

Easing his tongue into Marcus’ mouth, Frankie wasted no time in reaching around to grab his boyfriend’s ass with both hands, then he began to rock his hips. Marcus gasped into Frankie’s lips as the stronger pilot rolled his hips in time with Frankie’s, rubbing their cocks together slightly. Marcus understood immediately what Frankie wanted, and the friction was good, sending jolts of pleasure through them both. But it could be better.

Breaking the kiss, Marcus wrapped one arm around Frankie’s neck as he reached between their bodies and took hold of their cocks. Then, locking eyes with Frankie, Marcus began to gently pump. The goal here wasn’t to jack them both off together, although he’d done that plenty of times, instead Marcus focused on keeping the burning heads of their erections touching.

Frankie let his head drop back with a loud moan, bucking his hips as Marcus sped up and slowed down, using their own precum as lube.

“Eyes on me,” Marcus growled, causing Frankie to snap his head back up, his grip on Marcus’ ass tightening. “Look at me when you cum.”

“Yes sir.” Frankie breathed, his dark brown eyes almost black with lust.

The arousal washed over both of them, sweat clinging to their bodies, as each pump and twist of Marcus' clever hand stoked the fire inside them. Marcus could see Frankie gazing at him, his eyes glazed with the dizzying anticipation of desire. His beautiful curls were plastered to his forehead while he whimpered softly, each quiet whine a plea to Marcus to let him cum.

Usually, Marcus would be happy to draw this out, to keep them both on the edge for as long as they could stand it until they were on the verge of going mad. But not today. Today he was acutely aware of the time, so it was with a little disappointment that Marcus picked up the pace, stroking their twitching cocks faster and faster, as Frankie continued to rock his hips while a cheeky finger found its way into his ass.

“‘m close.” Frankie’s words were slurred as a shudder rippled through him.

“I am-I’m-” Marcus opened his mouth to speak, as he suddenly fell over the edge, his body jerking forward as he shot ropes of hot, thick release up over Frankie’s stomach and chest.

“Shitshitshit.” Frankie babbled, rocking Marcus into him more frantically, desperate to chase his own climax.

But all Marcus knew was static, light, and tremors as his orgasm ripped through him. Arching his back, Marcus let out a loud cry as he emptied himself over his lover. He could feel Frankie was still gripping him, as Marcus’ blinked away the ecstasy, allowing the world to reform around him.

“Fuck.” He panted, looking down between their bodies. His hand was still gripping their cocks, sticky from his release, and apparently, Frankie’s judging from the pilot’s blissed-out face. “Did you cum baby?”

Frankie just nodded, a sly smile forming on his lips as he gently ease his finger out of Marcus’ ass. Marcus felt a wave of disappointment wash over him.

“I missed it.” He pouted, glancing over at the clock. There were still at least ten more minutes before he really needed to start hurrying. “Fuck me in the shower?”

#marcus pike #frankie morales #kinktober #kinktober 2024 #ghost of a boy kinktober

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thatmexisaurusrex · 4 months ago

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Tommy is the secret Prince of Genovia 👑

Send Me Ridiculous BuckTommy Prompts

Hehe, this will be a fun one 😆

The Prince

"Hey, Tommy, I know this is going to sound like a weird question, but..." Buck started to ask as he collected his courage, "Are you a prince?"

There were signs.

Buck was pretty sure there were signs. Buck kept seeing men and women in black suits and sunglasses following them around from a distance, even while the went on hikes. Tommy didn't know how to make coffee. He didn't carry money. He didn't know how much a banana cost.

And.

Okay.

So, maybe Tommy had been wearing a crown every single time Buck had seen the guy, but Buck didn't know, Buck just thought it was a fashion choice.

Tommy took Buck's face into his hands, staring deeply into Buck's eyes.

Evan's eyes.

"You've caught me," whispered Tommy, "I am what you've said I am. I am a prince. I was tasked by my country of Genovia to learn the ways of the United States first responders so I could impart my knowledge to my country and better put out fires there. But. I fell in love with being a firefighter pilot. And. I fell in love with you."

And.

Buck should be focusing on the fact that Genovia's first responders were so abysmally bad that they apparently needed someone undercover in LA to learn how to better fight fires. Maybe focus on the fact that Tommy was someone who had casually been a firefighter for almost twenty years for spying purposes.

But.

But Buck found his mind reeling on the last sentence.

"You - you love me?" breathed Evan.

"I do," declared Tommy, "From the moment I met you. And maybe, someday, if you are okay with it, I would love to take you to my country. Put you in charge of our nation's emergency responders. But mostly, just to show the person I love around the place I love."

And.

That sounded like a lot to put on some random guy. But Buck was lost in the I do.

"Maybe - maybe in like a year when we've been dating longer," said Buck, a little emotional, "Kiss me, you weirdo."

And Tommy did.

A prince kissed Evan Buckley.

#911 abc #bucktommy #evan buckley #tommy kinard #crack treated seriously #bucktommy microfic #asks #ignore me i'm being goofy

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decisivelyindecisivelibra · 6 months ago

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Character Playlists: BAU Edition:

Not what they’d listen to necessarily, but songs that I think apply to them. BLANKET STATEMENT: I assigned what I did and regret some nothing.

First of An Untold Number: Reid

Cringe by Matt Maeson

Initial Inspiration: I said I’m just tired/she said “you’re just high”. . ./ Do I make you cringe?

Explanation: Tied for 1st place for Prompted Me To Do This. I couldn’t get over how well the questions encapsulated the entire BAU’s reactions/non-reactions every time drugs, addiction, or Reid’s squirrelly behavior came up in late S2/early S3.

King by Years & Years

Initial Inspiration: Don’t wanna have to lose/all that I compromised to feel another high. . . I was the king under your control/I wanna feel like you let me go, so let me go

Explanation: Tied for 1st place in what kickstarted this. If Cringe was the BAU’s outsider reaction, this was Reid’s insider reaction.

30/90 from Tick Tick Boom! (Andrew Garfield)

Initial Inspiration: This was almost Quarter Life Crisis by Taylor Bickett; no specific line so much as Vibes.

Explanation: True Genius had a significant hand in this.

Dear Reader by Taylor Swift

Initial Inspiration: Can I just say the entire chorus? “Bend when you can/snap when you have to.” Sure, definitely. “The greatest of luxuries is your secrets” I’m dying over here. “When you aim at the devil make sure you don’t miss.” Ah.

Explanation: Even the title sounds like it’s addressed to Reid, I don’t know what more you want.

Never Love An Anchor by The Crane Wives {Actually about Diana and William Reid)

Initial Inspiration: On some level, I think I always understood/That these hands of mine were clumsy, not clever. And I tried to do the best that I could/But try as I might I couldn’t bring myself to hold you.

Explanation: This is Diana and William regarding Reid, with admittedly a more sympathetic reading of William. I love complicated family dynamics & these three more than fit the bill.

We Are the Champions by Queen

Initial Inspiration: I’ve paid my dues/Time after Time. I’ve done my sentence/But committed no crime.

Explanation: Needed something not wholly depressing, and this really includes the whole BAU when you think about it, just. . . Some more than others.

I Miss You by Blink-182

Initial Inspiration: Don’t waste your time on me/You’re already the voice inside my head (I miss you)

Explanation: Do I really need to enumerate the revolving door of more-or-less important people in Reid’s life?

Cough Syrup by Young the Giant

Initial Inspiration: I’m losing my mind, losing my mind, losing control

Explanation: Although accurate for Dilaudid Reasons, considering the prevalence of mental illness and emotional turmoil Reid has, it also fits those.

Magic by B.O.B.

Initial Inspiration: No specific verse per se, but how could i pass up the title?

Explanation: This list was too depressing and despite everything, Reid is pretty cheerful. At least, when nothing’s happening. Besides, he’s Mister Magic Tricks, and Intellect-Wrought Pseudo Miracles, it seemed appropriate.

Still Breathing by Mayday Parade

Initial Inspiration: “Cause I’m standing here alone/Trying to make this life my own

Explanation: I feel like this is reasonably accurate throughout many of Reid’s early endeavors. Going to Caltech? Sure. The FBI? Absolutely. The way he comes into his own over the course of things? Yeah.

Migraine by Twenty One Pilots

Initial Inspiration: Waging my wars behind my face and above my throat/ . . But I know we’ve made it this far, kid.

Explanation: Like Magic, the title says a lot, but also, the words my god. The chorus obviously fits, and a decent amount of the rest, but the vibe and the fact “Kid” is still one of Reid’s nicknames from the BAU, even towards the end. I can’t.

That’s all for now folks, we’ll see when the rest come together. Feel free to do as you will, criticism will be received and ignored.

#song recs #criminal minds #cm #spencer reid #dr. spencer reid #character songs #song lyrics #BAU

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wholelottaprompts · 5 years ago

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⟨ Blurryface Prompts ⟩

From songs off the Twenty One Pilots’ album Blurryface

“I’m a goner.”

“You fell asleep in my car. I drove the whole time.”

“You are all that I’ve got.”

“I’m fairly local, I’ve been around.”

“Don’t trust a perfect person and don’t trust a song that’s flawless.”

“You don’t know my brain the way you know my name.”

“Fear might be the death of me.”

“Just because I play the piano doesn’t mean I’m not willing to take you down.”

“I need to know that when I fail you’ll still be here.”

"No, I didn’t understand a thing you said.”

“I’ve been thinking too much.”

“You’ll have to come and find me.”

“I wish I had a better voice to sing some better words.”

“Hell’s hot for good reason.”

“Don’t forget about me.”

“Now I’m insecure, and I care what people think.”

“The world around is burning, but we’re so cold.”

“I know a thing or two about pain and darkness.”

“Sometimes you gotta bleed to know that you’re alive and have a soul.”

“I look outside, see a whole world better off without me in it trying to transform it.”

“We don’t believe what’s on TV because it’s what we want to see.”

“Wish we could turn back time to the good ol’ days.”

“Even when I doubt you, I’m no good without you.”

“I know it’s hard sometimes.”

“Hope you’re dead ‘cause how could you sleep at a time like this?”

“My friends and I, we’ve got a lot of problems.”

#pronouns can be changed to your liking!#twenty one pilots #twenty one pilots prompts #song prompts #sentence starters #blurryface #blurryface prompts #prompts #writing #writing prompts #wholelottaprompts

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tadpolesonalgae · 2 years ago

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Azriel x Reader: Car Radio

A/N: trying out first person to see how it feels :/

Also this is named after the Twenty One Pilots song :)

Warnings: sad, mentions of reader feeling overwhelmed.

Visual Prompt here

Hope has so many different forms. It shifts and sways with each persons imagination, their mental depiction of the supposedly uplifting force constantly evolving and changing with every mind it sinks it’s claws into. Often illustrated as female with gentle features and soft hands, but strong enough to move armies and overthrow monarchs.

I don’t think she is gentle and passive at all. It feels like she has a shard of ice pressed beneath my heart, ready to rip into the tender muscle when I am inevitably disappointed. For me, she is a bloodthirsty terror, constantly taunting my fragile heart with strange illusions of power. They deceive me into thinking I am capable of overthrowing something great too, of overcoming that phantom pain that sucks at my soul from the inside out, like a hollow pull tearing through my chest.

It comes out of nowhere sometimes. I can be eating peacefully with my friends, the people who offered their hands when I needed them, then a ringing will sound in my ears and my stomach feels full and uncomfortable, like I’ve been too greedy. I can be sitting with Cassian, laughing from the pit of my stomach and then his eyes will slide to Nesta and I feel like I shouldn’t be there, shouldn’t be seeing that tenderness they share. I can be painting with Feyre when she’ll fall silent and I know she’s talking with Rhysand, a quiet smile lifting her mouth, and again I feel like I don’t belong here, inserting myself into their lives.

It’s happening now. I can feel my chest growing heavy and my eyes are aching. My skin feels hot and dry on the surface and I can feel all the teeth in my mouth, aware of how the soles of my feet aren’t touching the floor and feel itchy and uncomfortable.

I think Azriel notices my silence, different than before. His eyes are on the book in front of him but I know he’s aware of my throat bobbing as I swallow, how I take another deep breath and swallow again. How I can’t seem to find a comfortable place in my chair any more. I try to return to my book but I can’t remember the words no matter how many times I reread the sentences.

The room feels too warm and stuffy and I think Azriel knows that’s how I feel because I catch his shadows beginning to shift toward the window. I set my book down on the arm rest and move toward the windows myself; I don’t think I could take it if he did it for me. I don’t think I could stand the unseen care he provides, how alert he is at all moments but seemingly more so whenever this silence takes over me.

It’s dusk and the wind isn’t very strong, barely a whisper past my ears, but it gives me something to cling onto, to remind myself that I’m here on the outside and I’m not sinking down within myself. I take in another deep breath, aware of the colder air entering my chest, how it stings somewhat, but in a refreshing, minty way.

I can feel his eyes on me but I don’t turn around. I don’t want him to see the calm tears building in my eyes, blurring the dim sunset into a dull ombré of maroons and mauves. A few quick blinks removes the tears, recollecting myself so I can turn and move to my bedroom, but the sunset will be gone soon and I don’t want to miss a second of its calm descent into night.

So I stay looking out of the large, open window, and I can feel my throat closing up with each moment that passes; I can practically hear the soft tik. tik. tik. of a clock in the shell of my ears. My shoulders slump a bit and my chin lowers as I move my eyes from the sky to the land below, thinking of the mess I would make if I dropped a plate over the edge. The tears have returned and they’re stronger than before, pushing from my eyes and rolling down my cheeks so the cold stings. But I continue looking at the rocky ground far below the large, open window.

When Azriel moves silently to beside me, I realise I was leaning over the ledge, close to toppling out and smashing like a plate on the rocky ground far below, almost like a doll.

I don’t fool myself to think it would be that pretty.

My fingers grip the windowsill a little tighter now. I’m sure he knows the direction of my thoughts but he keeps his own to himself; he doesn’t comment on it. Instead he stands by my side quietly, a solid warmth that I want to lean into but feel like that would be too much - whatever that means. I try to lift my eyes from below but I can’t get past the horizon. The light is continuing to drain as time tiks on, steadily: drip. drop. drip. drop.

Tears drip-drop from my eyes and I have to look away from the fading sun, the side Azriel is on, so I can dry my eyes on my scratchy sleeve. It’s the breaking point of our silence as he takes note of the subtle action. He doesn’t ask if something’s wrong; the answer’s clear. He doesn’t try to comfort me; he doesn’t know what’s going on in my mind and won’t pretend to.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Azriel offers quietly, still standing by my side looking out at the view. He doesn’t shift to look at me. He keeps the interaction relaxed and open, allowing me the choice of what to do. I turn slightly to look up at him though his eyes are on the horizon. But then they shift to mine and I have to look away from his piercing gaze.

All my troubles seem like nothing when I look at him. Both because he’s endured more that I could ever imagine, and because he’s painfully beautiful. He takes my breath away without so much as trying. He’s effortlessly alluring, and I think he’s what I imagine hope to look like.

I shake my head. I don’t feel like talking at all. When these silences fill me up, I sometimes feel like I’ll never speak again, but then they pass and I’m free to converse with whoever I please. Though there was quiet before, this one is a pause. “Do you want me to leave?” He asks in the same deep, melodic tone that sounds like something I’d like to wrap my arms around and pull close right now.

Again I shake my head, though the motion is subdued and more subtle than the previous one. Heat flushes my cheeks as I feel hot shame run rampant through my body. It’s humiliating to still want to be coddled, to still be so afraid of that silence. But if he leaves then I have nothing to distract myself with, no way to escape from the thoughts that are swelling at the back of my mind in a fatal reservoir that will drown me if I wade too deep.

I can still feel his eyes on me and it does nothing to help the burning on my cheeks, it only worsens the embarrassment. He’s so much older than I am, knows so much more about the world. I probably look like a child to him, someone in need of a hand to hold in the dark. But when his wing flares behind us and scoops me closer to him, I find a comforting warmth blossoming in my chest, and the embarrassment leaves. In it’s stead I find a longing to be closer to him, to bury my face in his shoulder and cry until my lungs hurt and my eyes are swollen shut.

As usual he reads me easily, and lifts a welcoming arm and I can’t help myself. My arms wrap around his middle and I hide my face in his chest, making sure to steer clear of his wings as my fingers link together. Hot tears roll from down my cheeks quietly as I allow the damn to burst, soft sobs that I still try to choke back from escaping my lips helplessly. His hand wraps around my side securely, rubbing up and down my arm in slow, thorough motions, making sure I feel every change of direction so I know I’m not imagining to touch. He’s letting me ground myself through entering my senses: his scent is all around me, I can feel his skin against mine, I can feel his steady heartbeat, I can hear his even breaths that are so in contrast to mine, and I can see how his chest rises and falls in rhythm.

I don’t allow myself to so much as wish for my final sense to be fulfilled.

I would fall into hope’s trap.

#acotar #azriel #azriel acotar #azriel x reader #azriel one shot #acotar drabble #shadowsinger #Azriel Shadowsinger #acosf

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fatehbaz · 3 years ago

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California’s Napa Valley [...] is also home to a small forest petrified by volcanic ash 3.4 million years ago. The lesser-known cousin of stone forests in Arizona and Yellowstone, the Petrified Forest near Calistoga advertises itself as the place where you can (the gate says) “See Worlds Largest Petrified Trees,” ancestors of the redwoods. Despite -- or, perhaps, because of -- this hype, the forest itself might seem disappointing. [...] Visiting the Petrified Forest has been an anticlimactic experience since it first became a tourist attraction in the late 19th century. In 1871, a Swedish homesteader named Charles Evans noticed a log on his property that was strangely hard, like a rock. He made his discovery available not just to scientists but also to the public, for a small admission fee. One of Evans’s first visitors, the Victorian author Robert Louis Stevenson, described himself as “mightily unmoved” by the place; he even generalized on the basis of his trip that “sightseeing is the art of disappointment.” [...] However, it may be this very quality of anticlimax that makes the Petrified Forest so symbolically rich and resonant, both for the Victorians who discovered it and for visitors in 2022. Like a blank slate (if the pun can be forgiven), the Petrified Forest absorbed the projections of 19th-century writers ambivalently nostalgic for a world lost to industrial modernity. Today, it reflects, perhaps, our imagined proximity to climate apocalypse [...].

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The Victorians who discovered this place were less afraid of the future than they were of forgetting the past. For them, the new trees that sprouted up from the old ones signified not progress or rebirth, but decadence. An article in the Manitowoc Pilot from 1875 described the Petrified Forest like a “cemetery” in which “the stateliest trees were embalmed to last forever, while those of smaller growth were allowed to mix again with mother earth and lose their identity.” Twenty-five years later, at the turn of the century, petrified forests still seemed to represent species decline: “It seems as if the smaller trees and undergrowth of to-day are now feebly trying to hide from sight the dead giants of the older times.”

Writing about the petrified trees preserves glancing references to the indigenous population that Spanish and American colonialism had displaced. An 1877 article in the Vancouver Independent described the jagged edges of a log, suggesting that it must have been “hacked with an axe, probably made of obsidian.” This observation leads the author to denigrate the local native American population: “man was in California before the birth of Mount St. Helena even,” and “was of a type superior to the people who inhabited it at the advent of the European, for he knew how to fashion cutting tools.” A whole history is compressed in that sentence: the indigenous population of Wappo Indians had been all but driven out of the Calistoga area by the late 19th century, decimated by warfare and European disease. While the author marvels at the preservation of an ancient forest, in half a sentence he wipes out the dignity of the people who first encountered it. [...]

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The loss represented by a visit to the Petrified Forest could also be figured not ethnographically but historically: the ordinariness of the Petrified Forest as a place prompted reflection on the limits of what humans can know about the past. [...] A turn-of-the-century article about Yellowstone described petrified forests as similar to Herculaneum and Pompeii, since both were embalmed by volcanic ash. However, the author notes, Herculaneum and Pompeii, themselves ancient, pale in comparison to trees preserved for millennia: “The 1800 years since the eruption of Vesuvius, which destroyed these cities, is as but a day compared with the vastly longer periods required to pile up those strata until nearly half a mile thick… It has taken a century or more for man to uncover the small portions of the buried cities, but how short a time compared with the ages of sunshine and storm at work uncovering these buried forests.” Here nature appears in the role of both destroyer and archaeologist on a larger-than-life scale, piling up and dispersing the strata of ash across periods of time that defy the imagination.

The author in 1900 concludes, however, that the imagination is precisely what is at stake in environmental conservation. Both nature and man’s efforts to preserve forests -- living and dead -- must be respected, because our ability, however imperfect, to envision the past might otherwise be lost: “We need to save the few living Sequoia groves we have left with us, to help the imagination carry us back to those earlier scenes on our planet.” It would be a “crime” to allow such trees “to be destroyed merely for the lumber their majestic trunks would furnish.” At the turn of the century, an impassioned plea to save trees from becoming mere grist for the capitalist mill treats our ability to imagine the past as the truly threatened natural resource.

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Fittingly, the Petrified Forest, once a site of Victorian anxieties about forgetting, is now one of several places in the area where one goes to remember the Victorian era. An exhibit at the end of the trail displays newspaper articles about the site from the 19th and 20th centuries. References to Robert Louis Stevenson are everywhere [...] . Even as the Petrified Forest evokes a future when our own civilization is buried in ash, it conserves our ability to imagine the past, both distant and more recent. The forest remains enchanted by what 19th-century visitors thought and said about it, [...] petrified in paper and ink.

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Text published by: Abigail Struhl. “Apocalypse and Anticlimax: The Petrified Forest, Calistoga, CA.” Public Books. 23 March 2022.

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tomtenadia · 3 years ago

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My knight in shining armour

Rowaelin month Day 2 - University AU

I literally just finished this. I wasn’t going to write for this prompt but then an idea finally hit me.

The title as usual is bad... sorry

2k words

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Aelin had days in which she hated men. That was one of those days.

After finishing high school she decided to took a challenging course at the University of Terrasen. Her dad, before he retired, had been an airforce pilot. She had grown up going around his base, visiting him when he was back. In doing so, she had become obsessed with planes. As she grew up, her dad had let her get friendly with his engineer and the man had started teaching her all she needed to know about aircrafts. From the basic physics to the more obscure detail of how the jet worked. Aelin had been fascinated. She had started reading all the possible books, and as she got older, her dad’s engineer had also started having her to actually help her in the hangar. In the summer when school was out, she would actually get a part-time job as an apprentice at the base and she had loved every moment of it. She had also become very close with the two female pilots and together they had spent time talking about the life of a woman in a boys club. The two women had become her role models very quickly.

Terrasen was quite and open minded country but some ideas were still quite obsolete.

In high school at the question “what you want to be when you grow up?” She always answered an aircraft engineer for the airforce. She never faltered or never doubted. That’s what she wanted to, that was her path.

But when time for uni arrived and she applied for a degree in aeronautical engineering, that’s when she realised that the boys club extended far more than she expected.

She was basically the only woman in the class. None of the guys had approached her and on the first day she had walked in the classroom, one of them had the guts to tell her that the humanities department was in the annex c. She ignored the bastard and sat down at the front. She belonged in that room and she would prove it to every single one of them.

Day after day she had shown her knowledge and surprised her professor who was amazed at the fact that she could answer such in depth questions. Last time it happened, she had turned to Chaol - the asshole who had told her about the annex c, and gave him a smirk. That had removed his stupid grin from his face. It felt amazing.

During a private one-to-one with her professor she had confessed to him she had been working at the airbase as an apprentice during the past three summers. Her teacher had luckily been very supportive and encouraged her to keep up the good work.

Now, six months in, she still hated with a vengeance the arseholes she had to study with. Some of them even had the guts to ask her for some help after they realised she was actually good. She had answered that surely they didn’t want the help of a woman, and walked away.

After another class it was finally lunch time and she was meeting Rowan down at their spot on the grass. They were a couple. He had asked her out in the summer after high school was over and they had been together ever since. He was a med student and he knew her pain about choosing a challenging degree. Both their degrees were very intense and required a lot of time so they would just try and spend as much time together as they could. They had a flat together but the public library was were they spent most of their time.

And when their schedules allowed it, they would enjoy lunch together, venting about their academical choices.

“I fucking hate that bastard.” She raged, dropping her bag on the grass and sitting at his side, depositing a kiss on his lips. She felt better almost immediately, being in his arms was all she needed to feel okay again.

“What did he do now?” Asked Rowan knowing of her struggles in her classes.

Aelin grabbed her bag and pulled out her food, the dinner that Rowan had prepared the previous night and then packed away for both of them.

“The teacher gave us an exercise where we had to design an aircraft with what we had learned so far.” She told him, while munching away her food “He was up first and his project was a effing disaster. Seriously, I’d wouldn’t want to fly on a plane designed by him.” She took a sip of her water “the teacher asked us to say what was wrong and it took me ten minutes to stop. I mean, a two year old would have done a better job with lego bricks.”

Rowan giggled at her side “then my turn came and the bastard had the guts to tell me that the aerodynamics of my plane were off and that my ailerons where wrong as well and would not allow the plane to function properly. I took my laptop and shoved it in his face and told him to find the error in my math. He had no clue.” Her face turned smug “then the teacher took over and said that actually my project was, among all, the only one that could actually fly. I felt smug as fuck.”

Rowan pulled an arm around Aelin’s shoulder and pulled her to him. He was proud of her. Every damn day.

“Then after class, he threw me a paper plane and inside it had a message saying this is the only plane you will ever build or work on. I swear, the guy is still alive only because I am not looking forward to finishing my degree via distance learning from a prison.”

She calmed down “how was your day?”

Rowan leaned back against the tree “I had anatomy and physiology. Today we covered the endocrine system and it must be one most boring of them all.”

“Well,” she added with a big smile “when you cover the reproductive system you are welcome to practice with me…”

He laughed and squished her to her chest “I am a very big fan of your… bits.” She kissed him deeply not caring that they were in public, she wanted him and hated that they had more classes before being able to go home and then alas, study more. Maybe for one evening they could study something different.

“Aelin?”

“Yes, buzzard?”

His tongue gently teased her and she opened for him while his hand brushed off a rebel strand of hair.

He pulled back “Nothing, you had tomato sauce on you lips. I was just wiping it off. Did you think I wanted to kiss you?”

Aelin gently punched him on the shoulder, in return he gave her a massive grin. Rowan was a very reserved man who struggled with stranger, but she had her own version, the goofy one, the one who made jokes and loved to cuddle with her. She would treasure that version forever. That was just for her.

They were busy chatting away and she was showing him on her laptop the exercise she had been working on and her plane prototype and although what she was saying was greek to him, he still listened to her in fascination.

She was telling him how a plane flew and the four forces when a figure stopped in front of them.

“It must be exciting to brag with your boyfriend about your hopeless projects.” Said the man.

Rowan raised his eyes and finally saw the face of the man that had been making Aelin’s life miserable.

“What did you just say?” Rowan stood and towered on the brown-haired man by twenty centimetres. Chaol also looked frail compared to Rowan’s muscular frame.

“Chaol, you’d better go.” Not that she cared about the man, she just didn’t want Rowan to get into trouble for a petty man.

“You’d better give up while you still can, Galathynius. Aeronautical engineering is not a field for a woman.” He crossed his arms at his chest trying to look intimidating but the look in Rowan’s eyes told her it was a useless attempt. Her boyfriend was ready to attack. She knew he had never hit anyone, but had a feeling that if Chaol didn’t stop it could be a first for Rowan.

“Chaol,” she stood as well and growled his name in warning.

“Oh, so you are one of those arseholes who believes that certain jobs can be done only by those who were born with a penis. It’s the fucking 21st century. Grow up, idiot.”

Rowan swore, alarm bells rang in Aelin’s head. He only swore when he was extremely mad, something that her unflappable boyfriend rarely was.

“Oh look, Galathynius, you have a knight in shining armour.”

Aelin moved between Rowan and Chaol, trying to separate them when her boyfriend moved a step closer to the other guy.

Chaol chuckled “Did you sleep with every professor—” but Chaol never finished his sentence. She saw the scene develop in slow motion in front of her. At those words Rowan’s face had turned feral and as on instinct his arm moved and a second later his fist found its target in Chaol’s face.

Rowan then grabbed Chaol by the collar and lifted him up slightly “You take it back, immediately or I’ll smash all the twenty two bones in your skull.”

“Go on,” said Chaol, nursing a broken lips.

Aelin stopped in between and grasped Rowan’s hand gently “Put him down, Ro, he is not worth it.”

Her gaze then turned to Chaol “now you go back to whatever shithole you came from and perhaps go back working on your project and design a real aircraft.” She moved closer to him “I know what the fuck I am doing. And I know I will have a job in the airforce after this. You will just go back being daddy’s little spoiled boy.”

Chaol glared at her and Rowan finally let go of him, bur before he fully released him he pulled the man close enough that his mouth was near his ear “you disrespect her like that one more time and you’ll finish your degree from a hospital bed while sipping your food from a straw.” Rowan flashed his teeth in a threatening gesture “you leave her alone, because if I hear you have been a bastard to her one more time, I will make your life a living hell.” And eventually released him. Chaol shrugged his t-shirt back into place and walked away without adding another word.

Rowan sighed and then turned to her, his expression back being soft as soon as she looked back at him.

“You didn’t have to punch him,” she said while snuggling against his chest. His arms quickly around her.

“Yes I had to. What he said….” She felt him tense up again “he made me so mad, fireheart.”

“Seeing you thump him was very sexy,” she kissed him gently on the lips “my knight in shining armour.”

Rowan chuckled and looked into he blue eyes “you don’t need a knight. You are fierce, brave and strong and do not need any protection,” he added, his lips on her head. Nesting under his chin was her favourite position. They fit perfectly “I, on the other hand, as a male who is hopelessly in love with you, felt the desperate need to avenge the sullied honour of my amazing other half.”

Aelin giggled hard “you really sound like a knight.”

“Come on, Sir Rowan Whitethorn of Wendlyn, let’s finish our lunch, I have an hour of mechanics of flight coming up and I need sustenance.”

“Yes, my queen,” he said kneeling in front of her.

Aelin laughed and kissed him deeply “maybe I can be your queen tonight in bed as well.”

His smirk grew wider and Aelin felt heat pool at her core at his expression.

“Whatever m’lady commands.”

They finished their lunch in peace without any more interruptions and eventually they parted ways, going to their respective classes.

Chaol did not bothered her anymore. He didn’t even met her gaze and him ignoring her was all she asked. She was there to learn, he could just go and sulk in the afterburner of a jet, perhaps while on, for all she cared.

Aelin texted Rowan a thank you and his reply was a simple To whatever end.

#rowaelin #rowaelinmonth #rowaelin fanfic #rowaelin fanfiction #rowan whitethorn #aelin galathynius #chaol westfall #university au #Throne of Glass series

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aiweirdness · 4 years ago

Text

Facts about whales

When a neural net can imitate just about any kind of text on the internet, the challenge is to tell it precisely what to imitate. In my last preview of OpenAI’s new API, I asked it some pretty basic questions about horses, and it often got them wrong.

Q: How many eyes does a horse have? A: 4. It has two eyes on the outside and two eyes on the inside.

But part of the problem seemed to be that it thought I was asking for jokes. Once it finished answering the horse question, it would sometimes add questions of its own, such as:

Q: Why is the sky blue? A: Because blue is the only color the sun trusts. Sure enough, if I prompted it with FAKE whale facts from the @awhalefact twitter account, it responded with more fake facts (even copying the informal grammar):

a new study suggests that whales swim around because it makes them happy and it is not for any other reason

i can see into your soul from my balcony and i know that you are afraid of whales

when someone tells you they want to show you something cool, you should just assume they want to show you a whale

did you know that there are more than 10 billion planets in the universe that are all entirely covered in whales

Is there a way I can prompt this neural net such that I get Serious Answers Only? Since its task is to predict the text that is the most likely to come next, I tried ask it to add to an existing list of eight true facts about whales. At a temperature of 0.9 (enough for some variety, hopefully not enough for chaos) and allowing it to pick what it deemed the most likely of 10 tries, here’s one of its lists of facts. (I’ve annotated its “facts” as true or false.)

Whales all have two blowholes. [False]

Whales can easily be identified by the pigment of their skin. [False]

Whales are very intelligent. [True]

One of the smallest whales measures 3 feet in length as an adult. [False]

The life span of a blue whale is 100 years. [False]

The oldest known whale is 211 years old. [True]

Whales consume 3,000 pounds of food per day. [True (but only for some)]

There are two main types of whales: toothed whales and baleen whales. [True]

Whales can hold their breath for up to 4 minutes when resting. [False]

So it produces a mix of true facts and true-sounding made-up facts. Its fact about the smallest whale is technically just one character off from the truth (the smallest whale measures up to 9 feet long), so by its standards it’s almost correct. A Buzzfeed listsicle type of prompt (“10 amazing facts you didn’t know about whales!”) produced also produced plenty of false facts.

Scientists have recently discovered that the brains of whales are larger than human brains.

Dolphins don't just have to live in the water. Some live in the desert.

Whales are found in all of the oceans, but not in the sea. The sea is too salty for them to be able to live in.

I decided to try another tactic, and fed it the first sentences of the Wikipedia article on whales.

My prompt: Whales are a widely distributed and diverse group of fully aquatic placental marine mammals. They are an informal grouping within the infraorder Cetacea, usually excluding dolphins and porpoises. Whales, dolphins and porpoises belong to the order Cetartiodactyla, which consists of even-toed ungulates. Their closest living relatives are the hippopotamuses, having diverged about 40 million years ago. The AI’s response: Although whales were historically thought to have descended from mesonychids, their closest living relatives are now thought to be hippopotamuses. Megaptera novaeangliae, or the humpback whale, is a species of baleen whale. One of the largest rorqual species, adults range in length from 12–16 m and weigh about 36,000 kg. The humpback has a distinctive body shape, with long pectoral fins and a knobbly head. It is known for breaching and other distinctive surface behaviors, making it popular with whale watchers. Its diet consists mostly of krill and small fish, though it may also eat plankton, squid, and copepods. Like all large whales, the humpback was a target for the whaling industry, and once numbering in the tens of thousands, the worldwide population fell to an estimated 5,000. Orcas, also known as killer whales, are large dolphins belonging to the oceanic dolphin family, which includes the other large whales, the pilot whales and sperm whales. Orcas are highly social; some populations are composed of matrilineal family groups which are the most stable of any animal species. Their sophisticated hunting techniques and vocal behaviors, which are often specific to a particular group and passed across generations, have been described as manifestations of culture.

I’m not bothering to fact-check each sentence, because it’s basically 100% correct every single time.

But then I started googling individual sentences. It turns out most of them are near word-for-word reproductions of Wikipedia sentences. If the AI were a student, it would be flunked for plagiarism.

It makes sense that an internet-scraping AI would be able to quote Wikipedia text - those sentences really get around. The sentence that starts “Orcas are highly social” is no longer on Wikipedia but seems to have been part of the orca article around 2008, and appears on the internet in 122 places, including in a Twilight fanfic.

To get ORIGINAL facts, I decided to write a few sentences of original fact-filled text about whale evolution.

My prompt: "Whales are a relatively young group of mammals, having evolved from land-dwelling creatures about 50 million years ago. Their terrestrial ancestors were small raccoon-sized hoofed mammals, carnivorous like other ungulates of the time. Over an astonishingly quick period of time (15 million years at most, possibly less than 5 million), these land mammals made the transition to an aquatic lifestyle, gaining at first denser bones and an ear structure that allowed them to hear more easily underwater. Soon they began to look more crocodilian, their eyes migrating to the tops of their heads. "

AI’s response: Whales, and especially baleen whales, are well known for their enormous size, but most types of whales are not larger than a full-grown adult human. Exceptions include the blue whale, the largest animal ever known, the extinct "Basilosaurus", which was longer than a blue whale and likely the largest animal to have ever existed, and the "shovelnose" whales, especially the genus "Balaenoptera" which include the blue whale, "B. musculus", the fin whale, "B. physalus", and the sei whale, "B. borealis".

This reads well but is frequently wrong. Most types of whales are CONSIDERABLY larger than a full-grown adult human. Basilosaurus was not longer than a blue whale. There is no such thing as a shovelnose whale. Would that there were.

To this AI, SOUNDING correct is more important than actually BEING correct.

What about other styles of delivering true facts? (Below, my prompt is in bold, and the rest is unedited AI)

Darth Vader stood with his back to them, gloves gripping the console. "Did you know that the blue whale is the largest animal that ever lived?" "N-no, Lord Vader," said the stormtrooper. "And yet the blue whale eats krill, which are miniscule. It can engulf up to two hundred twenty tons of water at a time." "I am fascinated, Lord Vader." The black-caped Vader turned slightly toward him. "Would you like to hear more about the whales?" "Yes, Lord Vader," came the stormtrooper's tremulous voice. "I would like very much to hear about the whales." "They can make some of the loudest and lowest sounds of any creature known. The groans of blue whales can travel thousands of kilometers through the ocean. Their calls can be heard from the surface all the way to the seafloor, some three thousand meters below the surface. You could hear the cries of a single blue whale in Tokyo and hear the answer from the one in San Francisco." "I see," said the stormtrooper. "Have you ever heard the cries of a blue whale, sergeant?" "No, Lord Vader. I have never heard the cries of a blue whale." "I see," said Vader. "And have you ever seen a blue whale, sergeant?" "No, Lord Vader. I have never seen a blue whale." "No one has. They live too deep in the ocean. No human has ever seen a blue whale and lived to tell the tale. Until today." "I... I have seen a blue whale, Lord Vader?" "That is correct, sergeant. Until today, no human has ever seen a blue whale and lived. But now you have seen one." "I have seen one," said the stormtrooper, turning to face Vader, head shaking. "Yes, Lord Vader. I have seen one. I have seen a blue whale."

Subscribers get bonus content: I experimented with a few other ways of generating questionable whale facts.

My book on AI is out, and, you can now get it any of these several ways! Amazon - Barnes & Noble - Indiebound - Tattered Cover - Powell’s - Boulder Bookstore

#neural networks #openai #whales #whale facts #star wars #wikipedia #ai facts #true facts #true facts about the whale

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honey-dewey · 3 years ago

Text

Accidentally In Love

Pairing: Ezra/GN! Deaf Reader

Word Count: 3,506

Warnings: canon-typical violence and language.

Permanent Taglist: @phoenixhalliwell @star-wars-hell

The prompt for this week’s Writer Wednesday was given, as always, by the lovely @autumnleaves1991-blog, and the masterlists are created by @clydesducktape.

Prospecting was, on the surface, a very simple job. Anyone could do it, no matter their skill level or disability. At least, that’s what you were always told.

Growing up deaf hadn’t been easy. Many places turned you down for work due to it to the point where you’d had to fall back on prospecting in the hopes of making some money to support yourself. It wasn’t a bad job by any means. You stuck strictly to easier jobs, ones with little risk, and enjoyed it. Your work kept you traveling, and you loved seeing all the different kinds of planets the galaxy had to offer.

Of course, long jobs were the bane of your existence for that very reason. You hated being stuck in one place for too long, unable to fully take in the sights and sounds.

But long jobs paid well, and you needed it.

Sighing, you looked around for your podmate. You’d be sharing transport, housing, and work with whoever this Ezra person was. You hoped he wasn’t a complete jackass, like your last work partner had been.

The bustle of the docking site was lost on you as you tried to find the man who matched the grainy picture in front of you. It wasn’t easy, but standing directly outside your pod seemed to help. After ten long minutes, a man approached you, matching the photo and description on your paperwork. He held his hand out to you, his mouth moving, but no sound reached your ears.

You ignored his outstretched hand, instead using your dominant hand to point to yourself and then you curled your fingers into a D shape, pressing your curled fingers to your ear and then the corner of your mouth. ‘I’m deaf.’

Ezra’s face shifted, mild shock filling his features before he smiled, waving his hands in an ‘I don’t care’ gesture. He clumsily moved his hands, shakily making letters that spelled out ‘I’m Ezra.’

‘Hello Ezra,’ you signed. ‘I’m (F/N).’

A bright red light signaled that you’d need to get into your pod, and Ezra pointed to the pod. You nodded, and you and Ezra boarded the pod.

It took a second, but before you knew it, you and Ezra were heading out, Ezra gesturing to ship parts and buttons, and you instinctively did your job, piloting the ship to the crystalline planet surface of Ziciturn. The job would last two standard months, which you decided could’ve been worse. At least Ezra didn’t seem like a massive asshole.

Ezra began to speak to you, but you just stared at him, eyebrows raised and waiting, until he remembered, and he sheepishly grabbed a wayward pen, scribbling on the back of his hand.

Orbit for twenty minutes. We’ll start the landing sequence then.

You nodded, signing ‘Okay’ before twisting around to grab a book out of your travel bag. Twenty minutes was just enough time to finish this chapter.

Halfway through the chapter, you noticed Ezra was staring. You looked up expectantly. ‘What?’

Ezra jumped, as if he didn’t expect you to respond to his rather bothersome staring. He fumbled with his hands for a second before spelling out ‘Book. It’s good.’

You sighed, pulling a whiteboard and markers out of your bag. You passed them to Ezra, and he smiled gratefully, writing Thank you, in decidedly nice script.

‘You’re welcome,’ you signed, going back to your book.

A few seconds later, Ezra nudged you with the corner of the whiteboard. You looked up, ready to silently scold Ezra for interrupting you again, but then you noticed the message he’d written out.

Can you teach me to sign? I want to talk to you.

You sighed, setting your book down and checking your watch. Eight minutes until landing. ‘I can try,’ you spelled out before signing the sentence again, this time properly. Ezra lit up, setting down the whiteboard and turning his attention to you. Your heart began to beat faster as his enthusiasm. No one had ever been this eager to learn to talk to you, and you didn’t know how to describe the feeling budding in your chest.

Over the course of the next eight minutes, you helped Ezra build his foundation of finger spelling. He was a very fast learner, and you managed to teach him some very basic words so he could at least begin to understand when you gave him directions.

Those small signs were put to good use when you began to land. Ezra, using a strange mix of finger spelling and actual sign, told you to man the coordinates and descent speed, and you shot back at him that he had to watch your fuel use and hull heat. You were sure the ship was yelling at you, the roar of descent creating a hollow pulsing in your chest and a firmly painful ache in your bones. You had to imagine it was worse for Ezra, because you were certain each of those flashing buttons on the control panel were screaming at him. But all you heard was a crushing silence as the ship began to descend to the surface of the planet below you.

Finally, the jolt of a successful landing hit you, throwing you forward and nearly choking you on your safety belt. Ezra rubbed his throat as he unbuckled, standing to check all the systems. ‘We’re good,’ he signed. You nodded, following him out of the ship. The two suns in the sky made the ground glitter, blinding you for a brief moment before you slipped your sun goggles on, the darkened lenses helping you see properly. Ezra donned an identical pair, pointing up to the sky. You nodded your agreement.

‘Bright,’ you signed. ‘Very bright.’

‘Bright,’ Ezra copied, and you spelled it out for him. He nodded his understanding, looking at the map he’d been issued. He pointed, and you began your trek with a sigh.

Thankfully, the pod you’d be staying in wasn’t that far away. You reached it first, tugging open the door and ducking quickly inside. Ezra followed, shutting the door behind him. The pod was small, but was still equipped with everything you’d need. Two bedrooms, a bathroom, and a small kitchen. It would work for the job.

Ezra moved to examine the bedrooms. They were identical, just big enough to accommodate the sleep pod and the dresser unit. He gestured to himself, and then the door on the left. You nodded, taking the room on the right. You set your bag down, unloading it. Your book went in your pod, along with your communicator pad and a red marker. Ezra still had your board.

Your communicator blinked twice. Incoming call. You picked it up, watching the text scroll across the screen. Ezra wanted to leave in half an hour to start prospecting. You shot back a confirmation before setting your communicator down, intent on exploring your temporary home.

Thankfully, that wasn’t hard. The pod was tiny, and within ten minutes, you had seen all there was to see. Settling on your open pod, you began to read. The book was good, one you’d read before, but you read it as if it were all new again.

A flash caught your attention. Ezra was standing in your bedroom doorway, blinking his flashlight at you. ‘Go,’ he signed. You stood, stretching and grabbing your boots. Time to do your job.

As you walked to the prospecting site, you read up on the mineral you and Ezra were being told to harvest. Seraron, a beautiful and fragile orange-red gemstone. You sighed, scrolling down the information sheet. Ezra turned, hearing your sigh. ‘Fun?’

You rolled your eyes. ‘I’d rather be harvesting aurelac,’ you signed to yourself.

Ezra’s face turned upwards as he chuckled, despite most definitely not understanding what you said. He said something, although you couldn’t hear him, you were almost certain his remark was just as sarcastic as yours.

The dig site came into view soon after that, and you set your bag down, looking around. It was a small cavern, glimmering stones sticking out at every angle. Ezra tapped your shoulder, pointing to a small deposit of seraron. You nodded.

It took some work, and both of your sets of hands, but you got the seraron out of the cavern and onto your transport wagon. Ezra sighed, the rise of his chest giving away his emotions. ‘More?’ He asked, and you looked around. The cavern’s entrance didn’t have any more obvious seraron deposits. Shaking your head, you grabbed the wagon’s handle, gesturing in the direction of the pod. Time to go home.

On the trek home, you taught Ezra more sign, trying to stick to important ones that would pertain to your job, but you tossed in some fun ones here and there too. By the time you reached your pod, Ezra was happily translating about half of your simple sentences.

‘Ration bricks for dinner?’ You asked, setting the deposit down in the transport tube and watching it leave, headed for the command center. ‘Unless you want to cook.’

Ezra shrugged off the top half of his uniform, revealing scars that littered his arms. ‘I can cook,’ he signed as he tied the arms of his uniform around his waist. ‘I don’t care.’

You nodded, heading to your room to change. Your uniform one-piece was tossed into the dresser, replaced by a long and loose blue sleep shirt and a worn out pair of black pants. Ezra’s heavy footsteps vibrated through the floor, and you could feel him wandering the kitchen, making dinner. You half wanted to go out and sit at the table, where you could see him, but that might not be wise. He was nice to you, but you had learned the hard way that niceness didn’t last when it came to dealing with a disabled prospecting partner.

Fortunately, the decision was made for you. Your communicator pad blinked, and you scooped it up. A message from Ezra, asking if you knew how to cook. You sent him back a yes and exited your room to help him in the kitchen.

Immediately, the smell hit you. Something smoky and rich and good. You looked around, seeing Ezra in the kitchen, nodding his head back and forth as he stirred a pot. He must’ve heard your footsteps, because he turned, smiling upon seeing you. He pointed to two cutting boards, both with food on them.

‘I’m cutting?’ You asked, already grabbing a knife.

Ezra nodded, gesturing to the first board, which had a meat substitute, and signing ‘small.’ The second board, which had a bunch of green chives, he told you, in messy finger spelling, to dice. You gave him a comforting thumbs up before pulling the meat board toward you and beginning to slice the strips of meat substitute. It was nice, repetitive work, and you finished quickly and easily, sliding both boards towards Ezra, who thanked you and dumped the sliced meat substitute into a hot pan. It began to bubble, the smoky smell adding to the air.

Ezra noticed you watching him cook. He smiled, gesturing you closer. ‘Watch?’

You nodded, scooting closer and watching over Ezra’s shoulder. He was good at cooking, easily multi-tasking between the meat and the pasta, and within minutes, he was asking you for plates. You got them, watching Ezra put two servings on the plates and then slide them back to you. You set both plates on the table, watching Ezra grab utensils. He smiled, passing you your fork and sitting across from you. You laughed slightly, gently kicking Ezra under the table. ‘Long legs,’ you spelled. ‘Small table.’

Ezra laughed, comfortably tangling his legs with yours. You two ate in silence, savoring the flavor of the meal. Every so often, you’d stop to talk to Ezra, learn more about him. By the meal’s end, you learned he liked to read, and he was a self-proclaimed poet.

“I like poetry,’ you admitted, putting the last bite of food you had left into your mouth. ‘It’s beautiful.’

‘Beautiful?’ Ezra responded, his brows furrowing in confusion. You quickly spelled the word out for him, and he nodded his understanding. ‘Beautiful.’

That night was spent at the table, learning sign over cups of spiced tea. By the time Ezra was insisting you had to go to bed, you and him had spent three standard hours learning to communicate. It had been fun, helping Ezra form words without speaking. You and him shared many good stories and ever more laughs as the suns set.

‘Bed,’ Ezra signed, gently nudging you up. You yawned, shoving back against him and smiling.

‘Good night,’ you signed sleepily, catching Ezra’s attention with a wave.

He grinned lazily at you, causing your heart to beat ever so slightly faster. ‘Good night.’

Over the course of the next two months, you and Ezra grew as close as friends could be. It was easy. You two just seemed to click together, slight language barrier be damned. Every day was filled with work, an easy rhythm falling between you two. Nights were a very different story. At night, Ezra would teach you to cook, and you’d watch eagerly as he crafted meals from what little food you had left. Then, over dinner, you’d share stories, dissolving into fits of giggles by the end. After dinner was usually when you’d teach Ezra sign, but after a while, he began to get it, and your post meal hours were occupied by card games or more stories.

On the morning of your final day together, you woke to Ezra already in your doorway, smiling happily at your half-awake state. ‘Good morning sunshine,’ he signed, still using the silly nickname he’d given you a month back. ‘One last day.’

You yawned, waving at him to go so you could get ready. He obliged, and five minutes later, you were trudging out of your room, exhausted, but ready to go. Ezra followed your command as you sleepily gathered your stuff and headed out onto the planet’s surface for one last job.

Your morning quickly bled into your afternoon, the wagon half full of whatever seraron you could find. Ezra looked at the wagon, sighing. ‘Home?’

You nodded. ‘One more card game before we leave,’ you insisted, already beginning to haul the wagon. ‘Please.’

Of course, when you got back, you didn’t have time for one card game. You were instructed, by a droid who annoyingly knew no sign, to pack and leave immediately. Ezra relayed the message, and you pouted your way through packing, dragging your bag into the kitchen to wait for Ezra. He came out of his room a minute later, his bag already slung across his shoulders. ‘Ready?’

‘No,’ you signed dejectedly. ‘Let’s go.’

The trip off world was very similar to the trip onto the planet. You and Ezra worked in tandem to reach the docking bay an hour out. In that hour, you got to play your card game, kicking Ezra’s ass, although you suspected he let you win just to lift your spirits.

When you landed and exited the pod, Ezra insisted on grabbing your bag for you, passing you the worn duffel and pulling you in for a tight hug. You smiled, trying not to cry as you pulled away and began to sign. ‘I’ll see you again?’

‘Definitely,’ Ezra promised. ‘I have a job to do on some faraway moon, but it’s only a month. I’ll message you when I’m back, okay?’

With that, you and Ezra parted ways, both feeling a horrible tearing in your chests. You headed to your small apartment, every step heavier and heavier until you were collapsing onto your bed, your bag half opened in your futile attempt to unpack.

As you lay on your bed, wallowing in your own misery, you saw something peeking out of your bag. A piece of paper. You stood, tugging it out and reading the paper. It was a poem, torn from a book, the words small and slightly smudged, but still legible. Your fingers ran over the title and author, typed in miniscule print at the top of the page. The Special One by Clairel Estevez. As you read, tears began to flow, gently falling to stain the page’s bottom edge. It was only when you noticed ink bleeding through that you actually flipped the paper over, a sob bubbling over at the words written in Ezra’s handwriting.

‘P.S. I never told you, but I was falling in love.’

You held the note close to your heart, bound and determined to tell Ezra everything on the day he returned.

Except he didn’t. A month went by, and then two, and still no sign of Ezra. No calls, no messages. You waited, every day with bated breath, wondering if today was the day, but it never was. A year passed, and you had finally saved up enough money for a hearing implant. Eighteen months, and you had your surgery. Two years, you were hearing and speaking after weeks of physical therapy. Two and a half years, you finally read the poem aloud to yourself, wondering what it would sound like if the love of your life was here to read it to you.

Three years passed, and you had finally given up. Accepted he died on a job gone wrong. It was hard, but you kept going, kept moving, until one night, you received a call.

It was two in the morning, and you blindly stumbled to your phone, which was ringing loudly. “What?” you growled, rubbing your eyes and trying to determine what was so important that someone had to call you in the middle of the night.

The smooth voice of a call droid answered you. “There’s a man here who wishes for you to come to the Miurus emergency medical center. He says it’s very urgent.”

You yawned. “Does this man have a name?”

There were some hushed murmurs, and then the droid returned. “Ezra.”

Your heart dropped to your feet. “Tell him I’ll be right there,” you said sharply, tugging off your sleep clothes in favor of a pale blue tunic and grey pants. You shoved your shoes on in a hurry, rushing out the door and hailing a cab to the medical center. It was barely a five minute drive, but you kept willing it to be faster. It couldn’t be him. It couldn’t. Your Ezra was long dead. But this call, this tiny flicker of hope, it lit a fire in your chest.

You all but ran into the medical center, looking wildly around. No sign of Ezra. You approached the front desk droid. “Hello? I received a call from Ezra,” you said, and the droid chirped.

“Room 206, down this hall,” he said, and you nodded your thanks before rushing off.

Door 206 was on the right, and you stood in front of it for a good minute, working up the courage to push the door open. The knob was cool under your fingers, and you gently twisted it, opening the door and gasping immediately.

Ezra was lying on an exam table, staring at the ceiling. He looked horrible, all pale and skinny, but that wasn’t what worried you. What worried you was the mess of bandages beneath his hospital-issued tunic. The blank space where his right arm had once been.

He looked up, almost instantly jumping to his feet and pulling you in for a tight hug. You hugged him back, the warmth under your hand solid and real. Ezra was home.

‘I’m sorry,’ Ezra signed messily, his left hand shaky and unsteady.

You shook your head, taking his hands. “It’s okay,” you promised. “It’s okay, my love.”

Ezra’s eyes widened, and you smiled. “Implants,” you explained. “Our seraron job paid me enough to afford the surgery.”

“Oh,” Ezra breathed. “Congratulations sunshine.”

Your breath hitched. Ezra’s voice was smooth as silk, washing over you like warm water, the slightest twinge of an accent hurtling your body to a place of unknown pleasure. “Thank you,” you said softly. “I got your letter.”

“You did?” Ezra said, sitting down on the bed, you following him. “Did you like it?”

“It’s hung up in my bedroom,” you admitted. “I cried over that letter more than once.”

Ezra smiled, pulling you close with his good arm. “So I assume my feelings are entirely reciprocated?”

You grinned, leaning into Ezra’s chest and humming softly. “You assume correct,” you said.

After a few seconds, Ezra nudged you gently. “Y’know,” he said. “I don’t exactly have a home here. I’m not allowed to leave the planet for a while, until I recover.”

“I have a spare room,” you said. “Or a spare side of my own bed.”

Ezra chuckled. “I think I’ll take you up on that offer, sunshine.”

Closing your eyes, you snuggled closer to Ezra’s chest, content at last with the man who you’d fallen in love with. “I think that’s a great idea.”

#prospect (film)#ezra (prospect)#ezra x reader #ezra x you #Pedro Pascal #My writing #writer wednesday

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smuggsy · 4 years ago

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heyo! If you feel like a prompt, I'll offer up one for the flyboys? How about, “Am I going to die?" pls <3

Thank you! I always feel like writing for these two! Two prompts in a day, wow, this is unheard of. I would feel accomplished except I should've been working on an essay for my medieval history class so I only feel guilty lmao.

Anyway. Here, have some pining idiots. Bit of angst sprinkled in but really this is just Collins biting off more than he can chew. You know I love putting him in these situations #sorrynotsorry.

Collins has always been the heavier drinker. He's more easy-going, always accepting pints from the younger lads and beating them at cards and joining in on their bets when dark clouds loom close to the ground and they're allowed to leave for the day.

It's usually Farrier keeping him in check, walking him back to base late at night and watching carefully from behind, giving him space but close enough to grab in case he trips over his feet after a good amount of beer has numbed his reflexes.

Collins naively assumes Farrier isn't a booze lover. Isn't that into alcohol in general; he never has more than two pints, not even when Collins refuses to indulge in it does Farrier let himself get too comfortable at the bar or at a table.

Never when Collins is with him, anyway. This is a thought that has just recently taken form, as in, about ten minutes ago when Collins caught up with the group at the local pub after returning from his daily rounds.

Today he walks into the crowded place brimming with pilots as a thunderstorm announces itself outside, and when he takes a seat next to his wingmate on the far-off corner from the door he finds Farrier doesn't look up to meet his gaze.

"Evening," Collins greets, but he's not sure he's heard him over the music and incessant chatting of their peers.

Even if he does, Farrier pays him no mind.

To say that Collins is instantly bugged by it is an understatement. Farrier stares down at something in his lap, he's hunched down and sports a permanent frown and the overall sight of him just looks wrong.

"Ey, alright?"

He realises, but only once Farrier snaps his head up, that his eyes are a bit too glassy, his breath smelling a bit too strong when he sighs in Collins' direction.

"What? Oh, hey."

Collins only sees the paper in a flash, before Farrier tucks it back into the inner pocket of his jacket. The quick motion clearly meant to keep it away from prying eyes is the only reason Collins doesn't ask. Yet.

"Having fun?" he says instead with a smile, trying to brush away the sudden heaviness of a conversation that hasn't even started, and he leans back on his own seat and surveys the table in front. He counts at least five empty pints close enough to Farrier's side.

"Fun," Farrier scoffs with a shake of his head.

Collins finds the irony dripping from the word so strong and uncharacteristic that he leans over and takes a chug or two of his own beer.

"Let them have fun," his mate continues, gesturing vaguely towards the youngest recruits fooling about on the dancefloor, "they don't know what's fucking coming."

At that, Collins can't help but stare.

He gently places his pint back on the table and doesn't tear his eyes away from Farrier, now stumbling out of his chair looking much drunker than he did just a second ago.

"M'gonna head back," he says, trying to walk past Collins who only manages to move his chair back once Farrier's already on the other side.

"It'll be pouring outside!"

Just then, a thunder rumbles low and menacing under the sweet voice of The Andrews Sisters coming off the gramophone. Farrier stops dead in his tracks for a moment and just when Collins thinks he's going to turn around and sit back down, he shrugs and walks away.

"Ah, s'only a bit of rain, innit..."

He only stops by the bar to pay for his round of drinks, pushing through one or two excited couples dancing away the night and apologizing to one of the gals for almost stepping on her foot.

Collins watches the whole exchange from his spot, a bit taken aback by Farrier so easily brushing him off.

He gives himself a few moments to feel hurt and then he stands up and pays for his own unfinished pint, only catching up to him as he rounds the corner and the first droplets of rain start announcing a hell of a storm.

"Yer gonna be wet straight through if ya walk back now!"

"Yeah," Farrier says over his shoulder, lighting a cigarette and sending a sour smile Collins' way, "I am."

His gaze seems only a bit clearer as he stares Collins down, giving him a once over and taking in the sight with an approving nod. It makes something in Collins' stomach turn.

In a good way.

"You go back though, get yourself a nice bird to dance with. Put in all that effort to walk me back like I'm your granny?"

With the dragging of his words and the cigarette he keeps firmly placed in between his lips, Collins almost doesn't understand him.

He lets out an emotionless laugh and starts walking again when Farrier does.

"What effort? I always look like this."

Farrier blows away the smoke and nods again.

"You do."

"Something happen?"

There it is. He asks.

Farrier almost halts, just almost. He looks like he's about to answer but then the cigarette is back in his mouth and he openly ignores his question for a whole minute. Collins gets the cue but he still doesn't turn back. He figures he can play chaperone tonight, like Farrier's done with him so many times before.

Except, he's always ranting on after his round of pints and his wingmate's not much of a talker. No way to fill in the awkward silence. Collins can't help himself.

"You got mail," he tries again, a statement, just a simple comment that doesn't mean any harm and it definitely doesn't mean to make Farrier turn around like that - like he's properly annoyed at him for asking. For caring.

"Just go back," Farrier bites out, harshly, "you just got 'ere. Go on, don't lemme spoil your night."

"You're not."

"Collins..."

"I'll go if you really want me to."

That makes Farrier look at him again, truly look at him like the words have taken a bit of the alcohol off his blood and sobered him up. He stares for a long moment and then starts walking again without a word. Failing to answer again but answering nonetheless.

The lamp-posts they walk past light up the heavier drops of rain as if warning them of what's to come. Collins' hair is still wet from the shower so he doesn't feel much of a difference.

"You're a good kid, Jackie," Farrier says after a while, hands in the pockets of his trousers and looking up to the moonless sky. When he does, he seems to lose a bit of balance that he quickly regains before Collins can actually grab his arm to steady him.

He reckons it's better he didn't get to, judging by Farrier's general snappiness tonight. Can't be completely sure his help would be welcomed.

"What did you just call me?" he teases with a grin.

He sees a smile tug at Farrier's lips.

"A good kid."

Jackie.

"I'm twenty-fuckin'-five, thank you very much!"

At last, Farrier lets out a laugh. Collins feels like a heavy weight's been lifted off his shoulders.

"You're a fuckin' tease, s'what you are."

It's just as well that mother nature stops him as he intends to give an answer, because the words get stuck in his throat at the implication of that sentence.

The sky goes white for a split second, lightning flaring up above their heads before the cracking of thunder seems to switch on the merciless pouring rain once and for all. They're already far enough that they'd still end up drenched from head to toe even if they walked back to the pub.

"Shit, come on!"

Farrier starts running forward, where there's a couple of leafy pines by the road before the clearing starts the path back to the airbase: a very long and tree-deserted runway and training field.

In short, they're fucked.

Farrier beats him to the cover of the canopy and Collins thinks that perhaps he wasn't that drunk after all.

"Quicker in the air than on the ground, eh lad?"

"Want to race me, old man?"

"Nah, wouldn't want that spotless suit wrecked with mud."

Collins turns to answer and finds Farrier grinning at him playfully, looking him up and down again for the second time in twenty minutes - the spark in his eyes doesn't go unnoticed because he's never caught him staring so openly before. It makes his pulse quicken and turns his filter off.

"You really like me in my suit, dontcha?"

Farrier's next words sound fuelled by beer, as does that almost imperceptible lick of his lips.

"Why, of course I do."

He looks away to the curtain of falling rain in front of them, pooling down on the grass, and he shakes his head and talks so low that Collins almost doesn't hear him again.

"Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"I'm drunk."

"Yeah, I know. Ye keep lookin' at me like ye want to eat me or somethin'."

Farrier snaps his head back to look at him, mouth half-open like a fish out of the water - like he can't quite believe what he's just heard, and Collins panics, thinks he's misread the situation completely (thinks that even if he didn't, he really shouldn't have called Farrier on it because, as his wingmate so bluntly put it, he is drunk). Thinks that's a very reckless and stupid thing to say and that he hasn't even downed half a pint of beer so he can't even use that as an excuse.

Collins stares back, for a moment he considers stepping away, jumping over that poodle increasing in size and running away in whichever opposite direction Farrier means to walk.

Try and pretend he didn't fuck this up royally.

"Well, would you want me to?" Farrier blurts out all of a sudden, openly staring at Collins' lips and neck and cheeks and hair now.

"What?"

"I said, would you want me to."

Another lightning. Farrier's face is so close that Collins can count the scattered freckles on his nose and cheeks where stray drops of rain slide down on his skin. He has very long eyelashes.

"Eat you or something."

The thunder following the light drowns out that pitiful noise that escapes Collins' throat. He feels drowsy like he's the one who spent hours sitting down at that table in the wet sweet air of the pub gulping down pint after pint.

Farrier is very, very drunk even if he doesn't look like it anymore.

He must be.

Collins wonders: if he answers truthfully, will Farrier remember it tomorrow?

"Yeah," his wingmate snickers, and after what feels like ages he takes the slightest step back and smiles that sour smile from before, fishing another cigarette out of his pack and putting it between his lips, "thought so. Pretty boy like you."

Pretty boy like– what the fuck's that supposed to mean?

"Answer me this, Collins. Am I going to die?"

And just like that, the conversation steers away from longing looks and unspoken words. Farrier's back to smoking that ciggy that's already wet and his hands return to his pockets and Collins feels he's just lost an opportunity that isn't going to arise again any time soon.

"What?" he repeats, like a broken record, refusing to let his own eyes derail from Farrier's face, refusing to look away to the falling of rain, the runway, the clearing, the town far away like Farrier himself is doing. Refusing to let the moment go.

"What are my chances? What are our chances?"

Collins shakes his head in frustration.

"Surviving this shit. Let me tell you: they're very thin. So it's better this way. I mean, it's me but– well it's just not worth it, is it? Forget it."

"Forget. Forget what? Tom, the fuck are you on about? Is this about that letter?"

"Fuck that letter."

He tosses the cigarette to the ground.

There's no remorse in the words, no hatred despite Farrier turning back to him and suddenly standing up straight, shoulders broad, gaze unwavering and challenging. Collins is still a bit taller but that doesn't mean he feels taller.

"I– sorry I– didn't mean to–"

"My fiancée," Farrier cuts him off, cocking his head and studying Collins' reaction for a moment before continuing, "got killed. A bombing over Portsmouth."

He drags the paper out and almost shoves it in Collins' face, who just stands there at a loss for words, again. Stammering like a broken record, again.

"I–," didn't know you were engaged, "–sorry, I'm sorry that happened."

He wants to kick himself for his lack of eloquence but it's the least of his concerns because he was just flirting with Farrier a moment ago, and Farrier was leading him on for some fucking reason – a fiancée?

That tends to mean one's attracted to women.

A dead fiancée.

"Sorry, Tom."

"Don't be."

Another lightning, another thunder, more heavy rain and Collins is already starting to feel the cold reach through his layers of clothes.

"I'm not. Fuck, I'm relieved!"

Farrier runs a hand over his face.

"I'm– fuck."

"It's okay," Collins offers uselessly.

"She's dead and I'm relieved I don' have to marry her. How fucked up is that?"

Collins thinks he hears a cry, and when Farrier tries to look away again he knows he heard a cry, and he doesn't let him turn around and steps forward to hold him in a tight embrace instead. Farrier wraps his arms around him tightly like he'd been waiting for Collins to hug him.

"I'm fucking horrible," he says, words muffled in the fabric of Collins' suit and sniffing through a runny nose. Jack keeps a hand rubbing at Farrier's back in what he hopes is an empathetic touch.

"No you're not, you're not."

They stay like that, holding onto one another against the trunk of a tree that's doing a really poor job of sheltering them from the rain at this point, but is better than nothing. Farrier doesn't really cry, stubborn as he is even in this state of inebriation, and after a while Collins feels his stubbly chin brushing against the side of his neck and smells the scent of alcohol again.

"I like it when you use my name," Farrier mumbles, words still muffled and burrowing his nose in Collins' shirt like it belongs there.

Collins' only thought at that moment, frozen and unable to say anything back, is that Drunk Farrier is a real piece of work. He thinks he understands, now, why he doesn't drink.

#this got a bit out of hand as i was sayin'#i know it was supposed to be angsty but uh you know #it didn't get that angsty for once #i hope you still enjoyed it though #also i only proof-read it once so apologies for any shitty grammar or cohesion #farrier #collins #collins x farrier #farrier x collins #dunkirk #dunkirk 2017 #dunkirk fanfic #mine #answered

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brandyllyn · 4 years ago

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In our own image... (03)

Chapter 3

(Poe Dameron x OFC)

Other chapters... My Masterlist

Word count: 1700. Read it on AO3.

Rating: Teen & Up (PG) language?

Poe ran a hand through his hair, looking at himself in the small shaving mirror. He tilted his head back and forth, finally letting out a short curse. He’d messed up his sideburns this morning. One of them was noticeably higher than the other. It would grow back within a couple of days but today was the day he was supposed to retrieve BB-8 from the Droidsmith. He had kind of hoped that he would look good for it.

He leaned back, trying to see as much of himself as he could. He undid one of the buttons on his shirt and then quickly shook his head and did it back up. There was no reason the woman needed to see his nipples just yet. Anxiously, he pulled the sleeves of his shirt down, buttoning the cuffs in brisk movements. Then he hooked his thumbs into his belt, settling his weight back on one foot.

"Hey," he told his reflection, raising one eyebrow. The man in the mirror did the same and Poe groaned. He looked like an idiot. Scrubbing a hand across his face he grabbed his blaster belt and buckled it on, leaving before he spent the next hour trying to figure out how he could make a curl fall across his forehead just right. His hair was always doing that. Always almost in his eyes. But not today. Of course not. Today it was sticking up in seven different directions and no amount of cursing or trying to flatten it down with water had helped.

Pushing aside the cloth he used for a door, Poe nearly ran head first into Snap. The older man stepped back and Poe caught himself before falling on his face.

"Whoa there," Snap muttered, "what’s got you in knots this morning?"

"Nothing," Poe said quickly. Too quickly.

Snap raised an eyebrow, "Nothing eh? Does this nothing have something to do with finally getting your little droid back today?"

Poe released a breath. Oh, Snap thought he was anxious because he missed BB-8. He was, and he did. It was valid. "Yeah," he smiles at the older man, "that’s it."

"Come have breakfast first," Snap told him, falling into step beside Poe. They had to duck under the nose of Black One. Like every pilot on base, Poe slept within twenty feet of his ship. "If you don’t you’re going to be so caught up petting that little guy that you’ll forget to eat and then I’ll have to deal with hungry Dameron the rest of the morning."

Snap gave a dramatic shudder and Poe punched him lightly on the arm. "I’m not that bad."

"Who’s not that bad?" Pava asked, intercepting them as they passed Black Three.

"Dameron when he’s hungry," Snap informed her before Poe could say anything.

"Oh Gods no," Pava took a step to the side. "Is he hungry now? Are we going to get food? We can fix this Commander, hold on."

Poe gritted his teeth, glaring between the two of them. "I’m not that bad," he repeated.

Pava gave him a sympathetic look. "No caf and no food? Dameron, we’re all that bad."

Grunting, Poe undid his cuffs, rolling his sleeves up past his elbows as he shouldered past them. "Insubordination," he muttered but neither of them seemed to pay any mind. They had gotten into a discussion about what food they missed most and Poe felt his own stomach grumble. Maybe stopping for breakfast first wasn’t the worst idea. Fainting from hunger in front of the Droidsmith probably wasn’t going to make a great second impression - and considering how… mediocre the first one had gone he was really hoping to be charming this time around.

By the time he was done eating and had gone through his morning briefing with the Squadron Poe was sweating. The humidity on this part of Ajan Kloss was never something to be sneered at, and today the air was still and hot to go with it. There was a storm coming, if not today then certainly tomorrow. He made a mental note to remind everyone to be sure their lightning rods were up. The last thing they needed was to lose a ship to electrical repairs.

Maybe he should go do that right now in fact. BB-8 could wait a bit, there was no need to… Poe shook his head, squaring his shoulders. The fact that there was finally someone on base who he was both interested in and could in good conscience pursue was secondary to the fact that he needed to get his astromech back. Flying yesterday with R2-D2 had been fine, but it wasn’t the same as having his little buddy onboard.

That settled, Poe strode confidently between the trees towards the Mu shuttle. The Droidsmith was in the front portion of her workshop today, her back to him, sitting at one of the tables and working on the R4 unit.

He coughed, not wanting to scare her. After a moment, he coughed again, louder.

Still no response.

He was getting ready to cough a third time when the little translator droid rolled out from under her stool. "Hi hi," it said, tilting up to look at him.

"Hi K-0," he greeted it. "Can you tell…" Shit. He’d forgotten to get her name. He could feel his eyes bugging out as he struggled to finish the sentence. "Her that I’m here for BB-8?"

K-0 flashed a red light at him. "No. Go. No. Not here."

Poe dropped to one knee, propping an arm on it as he tried to meet K-0 at its level. "What do you mean not here?"

"Bad droid," K-0 said fiercely. "Go. No come back. Bad."

"K-0-" Poe started but the droid raced off, running a circle around the Droidsmith’s stool and looking at him from behind her feet.

"No. Go. No."

The Droidsmith finally seemed to notice something was going on, pushing herself away from the table so the stool was leaning back on two legs. She looked down at the droid and then turned, raising an eyebrow at him.

Shit, he was still kneeling. He rose quickly, dusting the knees of his pants off and smiling at her as she settled the stool back onto all four legs. She was prettier than he remembered, if that was even possible.

"Hi," he said and K-0 beeped, echoing him.

She gave a dubious whistle and K-0 translated, "Hello." Then another whistle and a tsking sound with her tongue. "What you do K-0?"

Poe blinked, then looked down at the droid. "I didn’t do anything to K-0 - I was just looking for BB-8."

K-0 translated for him and Poe saw her eyebrows draw together and then she relaxed, rolling her eyes and looking down at the little droid. A series of whistles happened, interspersed with clicks of her tongue. He couldn’t understand her, but could pick up K-0’s side of the conversation in Binary.

"BB-8 is bad droid. Want replace K-0."

A low whistle from the Droidsmith and a fond smile.

"Bad droid. Bad man."

She snorted and looked over at him and he held his hands up in his most non-threatening pose. More whistling.

"Bad man keep bad droid."

Poe didn’t want to interrupt but did feel the need to defend his own honor. "Look, BB-8 might be my droid but he’s got a mind of his own. Whatever he did, don’t blame me. I’m just here to keep him from setting himself on fire."

K-0 translated his words into Binary as he talked and the Droidsmith winked at him. Maker, she winked at him and he felt heat flash along his body that had absolutely nothing to do with the burning Ajan Kloss sun. She whistled and K-0 turned to him with what Poe could only call smugness.

"Bad droid not here."

Poe blinked, "Yeah, you said that before. What do you mean he’s not here?"

The Droidsmith furrowed her brow before replying. "Rey take bad droid."

"Rey," Poe muttered, looking down at K-0 as it translated. "Rey took BB-8? Where?"

More whistling. "Rey say take you."

Poe grunted. "When?"

"Morning," K-0 replied, not needing to wait for the Droidsmith.

So Rey had been by this morning and left with BB-8. The Jedi often took BB-8 out with her when she was training. It just meant… Poe had spent the night before thinking of several topics for conversation that he could have with the Droidsmith today. But they all had kind of relied on having BB-8 there as he was the focus of most of them.

"Oh, okay," he fumbled, trying to think of something else to say. This was harder than he’d thought it would be. The language barrier, coupled with only getting garbled sentences back from K-0 made conversing difficult.

"Need more bad man?" K-0 asked after a gentle prompt from the Droidsmith. Those deep brown eyes were on him and he swallowed, gaze dropping to her pursed lips before snapping back to more appropriate locations. Poe looked at her workbench, at the pieces of droid strewn across it. She obviously had work to get back to.

"No, no," he backed away, tripping slightly when the workshop ground covering gave way to dirt. "I’ll just…"

He wouldn’t say he ran away. But he did walk quickly. If someone wanted to be very particular perhaps he jogged. But he definitely didn’t run - Poe Dameron didn’t run from things.

After a minute of walking quickly he slowed, then stopped. Raising a hand he rubbed his temples with his thumb and forefinger. That had… that had not gone well. Maker had it really been that long since he had flirted with purpose and not just for the sake of flirting? Long enough that he was a bumbling mess about it?

It was the translation problem. That was it. Nothing to do with him. If she understood Basic or he understood… whatever it was that she was speaking… this would all be going a lot smoother. Maybe he could bring Threepio next time. While the protocol droid could be annoying, he’d at least translate full sentences without color commentary - something K-0 did not seem to be capable of.

Yeah, that was it. He’d bring Threepio by next time. Then they could have a nice conversation. Just him, Threepio and….

Well shit. He still hadn’t gotten her name.

Chpt 4

#in our own image #poe dameron #poe dameron x ofc #star wars #star wars sequels #star wars fanfiction #writing

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bloody-bee-tea · 5 years ago

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Himbo - Xichen Week 2020 Day 7

The prompt I chose for Day 7 is “Himbo” though, really, it’s more a free day, with the modern AU and shit. This was inspired by this Tweet on Twitter.

When Lan Xichen comes home, he’s still moving more on auto-pilot than anything else. He closes the door behind him, puts his keys and shoes away, and hangs his coat, like he normally does, but nothing about this feels normal.

Jiang Cheng has confessed to him, has told him the words Lan Xichen has been waiting for, and instead of saying it back, Lan Xichen had frozen and then said ‘Thank you’.

‘Thank you’.

Lan Xichen wishes the ground would open itself to swallow him.

He’s not that lucky of course; in fact, this day is only getting worse, because Nie Mingjue is sitting in the living-room, clearly waiting for him.

“What happened? You look like shit,” is what he greets Lan Xichen with and Lan Xichen throws himself onto the couch, and puts his arm over his eyes.

“Due to personal reasons I’ll be sinking to the bottom of the ocean in a large metal box.”

“The ocean is far away,” Nie Mingjue says and then there is a pregnant pause before Nie Mingjue continues. “Jiang Cheng said ‘I love you’ and you said ‘Thanks��, didn’t you?” he then asks and Lan Xichen hates his friend with a passion at that moment.

“The reasons are personal,” Lan Xichen tries to reiterate, but it only makes Nie Mingjue laugh.

“I can’t believe this,” Nie Mingjue gets out between bouts of laughter and Lan Xichen melts against the couch, in hopes that he can just disappear.

The couch, much as the ground, is unwilling to help though.

“How can you do this again?” Nie Mingjue then asks and Lan Xichen’s face burns at the reminder.

He had done the exact same thing when Nie Mingjue had confessed to him in high school, and really, Lan Xichen is a grown man now. He should be able to handle this better.

“It’s just—I don’t know,” Lan Xichen laments. “It took me by surprise.”

“How can it have taken you by surprise? You are in a relationship with Jiang Cheng. You knew this was coming. Hell, you’ve been telling me you love him for the past few weeks. This is nothing like back in high school.”

“I know,” Lan Xichen groans out and then turns betrayed eyes on Nie Mingjue. “If you tell anyone, though, I’m going to—,” he tries to threaten, but Nie Mingjue cuts him off with an amused shake of his head.

“Sink to the bottom of the ocean? I think we have that covered.”

“Mingjue!” Lan Xichen shouts out and reaches for a pillow.

It smacks Nie Mingjue right in the face, and that makes Lan Xichen feel a little bit better.

“Just call him, ask to meet up, and then tell him you love him too,” Nie Mingjue reasonably says as he puts the pillow on his lap and Lan Xichen contemplates smothering himself with it.

“As if it’s that easy,” he groans. “You should have seen his face. Fuck, he probably never wants to see me again.”

“Oh, you’re cursing. It must be serious then,” Nie Mingjue says and the teasing note leaves his voice.

“Jiang Cheng he’s—he has—,” Lan Xichen starts but then can’t bring himself to say it.

Jiang Cheng has confided in him, so Lan Xichen can’t just go around blurting his secrets.

“Issues? Gods, don’t I know it,” Nie Mingjue completes Lan Xichen’s sentence and then shrugs when Lan Xichen stares at him. “The guy has been best friends with my brother since kindergarden. I know he has issues.”

“And he’s never going to forgive me,” Lan Xichen says and then falls over, head hitting the pillow in Nie Mingjue’s lap neatly.

It’s not too late to suffocate himself.

“Stop that,” Nie Mingjue says, and takes the pillow away. “You’re a grown ass man. Get your shit together,” Nie Mingjue scolds him but Lan Xichen shakes his head.

He’d really rather just wallow for a few days.

Nie Mingjue seems to plan his new approach, because he falls silent, but the peace isn’t long lived, because Lan Wangji comes home.

And he’s on the phone.

“Let me come over,” Lan Xichen hears Wei Wuxian sweetly say and Lan Xichen almost sprains something in his haste to sit up and shake his head.

“Let him not come over,” Lan Xichen hisses out and Lan Wangji looks strangely at him before he asks Wei Wuxian to wait.

“Why not?” Lan Wangji wants to know and Lan Xichen can tell that he’s already on the defensive, as if Lan Xichen could ever have something against their relationship.

“He’s going to kill me,” Lan Xichen whispers urgently, much to Nie Mingjue’s amusement and Lan Wangji frowns at them, clearly confused.

“Wei Ying would never,” he says determinedly and Lan Xichen wants to rip the phone out of his hand and hang up.

“Wei Wuxian would, if I hurt his precious little brother,” Lan Xichen gives back, willing Lan Wangji to understand and to protect his own brother.

“What did you do?” Lan Wangji ask, suspicion clear in his voice and Lan Xichen sighs as he drags a hand down his face.

“Something stupid,” he admits then, underlined by Nie Mingjue nodding along, face still burning with the memory and Lan Wangji stares at him for a moment longer before he raises the phone back to his ear.

“Be here in twenty,” he says much to Lan Xichen’s horror and then hangs up.

He locks their apartment door in the same move, which Nie Mingjue approves with a thumbs up.

Lan Xichen slaps his chest, because Nie Mingjue has no business stabbing him in the back like this.

“Wangji!” Lan Xichen almost yells, because he cannot believe that Lan Wangji would betray him like that.

“If you hurt someone, you must fix it,” Lan Wangji tells him and Lan Xichen fights the urge to tear his hair out.

“My words,” Nie Mingjue agrees and Lan Xichen turns to glare at him.

“I can’t fix anything if Wei Wuxian kills me first,” he laments but Lan Wangji shakes his head again.

“I will not let him,” he says, clearly secure in his ability to keep his boyfriend in check.

Lan Xichen doesn’t trust his abilities at all. If Wei Wuxian wants him dead, Lan Xichen is dead.

He just hopes Wei Wuxian doesn’t bring Jiang Yanli. None of them stand a chance against her.

When Wei Wuxian finally arrives, it turns out to be much, much worse.

He brought Jiang Cheng with him.

“I told him I don’t want to be here,” Jiang Cheng says as soon as Wei Wuxian dragged him inside and Lan Xichen can only stare at him, and his defensive state.

He hates himself for causing that; Jiang Cheng had almost been at home in this apartment.

“Uh,” Lan Xichen says, unsure what to do now and he shrinks back into the couch when Wei Wuxian levels him with a smile.

It’s terrifying.

“I heard you did something stupid,” Wei Wuxian starts with and Lan Xichen turns towards his brother, hoping for some help, but Lan Wangji is standing behind Nie Mingjue, who seems to be only missing a bowl of popcorn, and Lan Xichen realizes he doesn’t have to expect help from either of them.

Traitors.

“I—yes?” Lan Xichen manages to get out, and Wei Wuxian’s smile gets sharper, if that is even possible, while Jiang Cheng shrinks further into the background.

“Is that a question?” Wei Wuxian asks and his voice makes a shiver go down Lan Xichen’s spine.

He opens his mouth but nothing comes out.

“Here’s a funny anecdote,” Nie Mingjue suddenly says and expertly blocks Lan Xichen’s punch to his shoulder.

Wei Wuxian doesn’t move his eyes from Lan Xichen, but he does motion for Nie Mingjue to go on.

“Back in high school I confessed to Lan Xichen,” Nie Mingjue says and Lan Xichen can see how Jiang Cheng stiffens even further in the background. “Do you know what he said in response?”

Lan Xichen can tell that Wei Wuxian wants to laugh at him, but he keeps his terrifying smile on his face.

“He said ‘Thank you’?” he guesses and Lan Xichen goes red at that.

“He said ‘Thank you’,” Nie Mingjue agrees and now Jiang Cheng finally looks over at him. “It’s his panic response.”

“Ah,” Wei Wuxian says, and then pushes Jiang Cheng further into the room.

“Yes, I panicked, okay?” Lan Xichen finally just yells out and throws his hands up. “I panicked and I did something dumb, can we all just forget about this now?”

“You panicked when I told you I love you?” Jiang Cheng asks and his voice is small and unsure and Lan Xichen hates it.

“I—,” he starts and then has to swallow when Wei Wuxian throws daggers with his glares over Jiang Cheng’s shoulder.

“You could have just said you don’t feel the same,” Jiang Cheng presses out and Lan Xichen springs up with the need to explain.

“No!” he urgently says. “No, listen. I have wanted to say that so often to you, but I didn’t know if you were ready. And then hearing it from you took me by surprise,” Lan Xichen explains and he can see that Jiang Cheng believes him, because his whole posture goes soft.

“He practiced saying it to you in the mirror,” Nie Mingjue helpfully says from the couch and Jiang Cheng has to press his lips together to not laugh at that.

“Really?” he wants to know, but he’s looking at Lan Xichen.

And Lan Xichen has clearly hurt him enough today to deny this. What’s one humiliation more, after all.

“Really,” he agrees and takes a careful step towards Jiang Cheng, who does the same.

“And that’s it, our part here is done,” Nie Mingjue decides and gets up from the couch, ushering Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian out of the apartment. “Come on, boys, I’ll treat you to lunch.”

Neither Lan Xichen nor Jiang Cheng pay much attention to them leaving. They only have eyes for each other now.

“Did you practice it often enough?” Jiang Cheng wants to know and Lan Xichen wants to weep, his boyfriend is so strong and courageous.

“I think so,” Lan Xichen decides and gently takes Jiang Cheng’s hands in his. “Jiang Cheng, I love you,” he then says and when he sees the mischievous glint in Jiang Cheng’s eyes, he knows what’s coming.

“Thank you,” Jiang Cheng replies, before he starts to laugh and falls into Lan Xichen.

Lan Xichen guesses it’s what he deserves, after everything, and he slings his arms around Jiang Cheng’s waist and buries his face in his hair.

Surely, one of these days they’ll manage to say it both.

#bt writes #the untamed #xicheng #mzds #xichenweek2020 #established relationship #modern au #himbo!lxc #humor #nmj is the best friend #even though lxc doesn't see it that way #love confessions

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wholelottaprompts · 6 years ago

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》Twenty One Pilots Sentence Starters《

(From the album Twenty One Pilots)

Warning: This contains suicidal thoughts and mentions

“I love you.”

“Nobody knows his real name. Now he just uses one he saw on a grave.”

“I feel for you, but when did you believe you were alone?”

“Don’t be afraid. We’re going home”

“All I saw were backs of heads.”

“Get up, (Name).”

“I will take my precious time.”

“We haven’t talked in quite some time.”

“I am cold.”

“I was doing fine on my own.”

“We get colder as we grow older.”

“He is falling in love.”

“It’s time you pick your battle.”

“I’m so very far from fine.”

“Please just send them on my way.”

“But I don't want your way, I want mine.”

“Take me out and finish this waste of a life.”

“I won’t fall in love with falling.”

“I’m just being dramatic.”

“I will listen to you all day.”

“Can you hear?”

“Open up your eyes and see.”

“I know you want to leave.”

“I have nothing else left to say.”

“Please, take my hand.”

“You are tired. You are hurt.”

“You will hide from everyone denying you need someone.”

“Someone must have picked the lock.”

“I don’t know if I am dying or living.”

“They all know you’re qualified.

“Please remove your hands from over your eyes for me.”

“Everyone gather around for a show.”

“We’re probably more suicidal than ever now.”

“Don’t take your life away from me.”

“I know I haven’t been the best of sons.”

“I’ll follow you instead.”

“You’re my pride and joy.”

“You’re in my mind.”

“I just don’t say what you wanna hear.”

“The light will set us free.”

“Find yourself a wife and build yourself a home.”

“Nothing kills a man faster than his own head.”

#pronouns can be changed to your liking!#twenty one pilots #twenty øne piløts #song lyrics #song prompts #song sentence starters #sentence starters #prompts #writing #writing prompts #angst prompts #angst starters #wholelottaprompts

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summahsunlight · 4 years ago

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Reader Request, #35 and #37 with Poe

Title: One Last KIss

Rating: T

Word Count: 1785

Pairings: Poe x Pilot!Reader

Summary: From 50 Angsty Questions Prompt list (here), #35 “Can I have one last kiss?” and #37 “Is this how you thought your life would be?”

Warnings: Heavy angst, implied major character death

Request from anon: “35 & 37 with Poe?” Thanks for the request! This one was much longer than I had originally anticipated, but there were so many parts to this that I wanted to include. Hope you like it! Remember, comments, likes, asks, or reblogs about this work are always appreciated. Happy reading friends!❤️

Everything had happened so fast.

Poe had been joking and flirting with you over the comms while you made your final sweep on this recon mission, and then out of nowhere, you were ambushed. Bounty hunters looking to make payday. Both you and Poe managed to take care of them, but not before Poe’s fighter was badly damaged.

You were forced to watch it go down. The stars spun in front of you as you sent a panicky distress call to the Resistance. Commander Dameron was hit, you needed medical assistance--because there was no way Poe had not survived the crash. That was just what he did--survived.

Landing your own fighter close to the crash, it had barely touched the terrain when you opened the hatched and jumped out of the cockpit. You tossed your flight helmet as you ran for the wreckage of Poe’s x-wing, heart beating so fast you were sure it was going to beat right out of your chest. “Poe!”

BB-8 responded with frantic screeches. You climbed up onto the smoking wreckage and helped the little droid out of the socket. It took you a few seconds to find the emergency hatch release, but once you did, you yanked on it hard.

Nothing prepared you for the sight before you.

Poe’s blast shield was cracked, blood spattered on it. His orange flight suit. was covered in blood. Carefully, you wedged yourself into his cockpit and heard him groan in pain. Relief washed through you--he was alive. “If I’d known crashing my ship would have gotten you in my lap... I would have done it sooner.”

“Don’t joke,” you snapped at him, gently removing his helmet to inspect his head injury. “This is a serious situation, Poe. You’re hurt, badly.”

“How...how bad?” Poe asked, his eyes locking with yours. When you refused to answer, he asked again, “How bad is it, princess?”

Damn that nickname, damn him for using it in that exact moment. Tears instantly sprang to your eyes as your hands pressed down on the chest wound that was bleeding profusely. “You’re... you’re gonna be fine,” you lied to him, even as his blood stained your fingers and flight suit.

Poe gazed at you sympathetically. “I’ve been around long enough, survived enough crashes--I know it’s not good. You don’t have to lie to me, Y/N. I know...”

You cut him off before he could finish that sentence. “It’s bad, yes! But you’re going to be fine, Poe!” Please, you have to fine! I need you! BB-8 moaned nearby and you choked over your next words. “If you die, whose gonna look after BeeBee?”

“Just figured you would. He likes you.”

“Yes, well, I like him too but he isn’t going to need me. He’ll have you!”

“Is this how you thought your life would be?”

“Not even close; although I knew at some point you’d be bleeding all over me.”

He smiled, wistfully at you. Poe’s eyes were beginning to glaze over, you could see the tint of his pink lips starting to turn blue and you desperately pressed down harder on the wound. Where is that rescue transport! It had felt like hours since Poe had crashed, in reality it was probably only minutes. You had never felt time move so slow before.

It felt like there were walls pressing around you, watching the life slowly leave Poe’s body, watching the spark fade from his beautiful brown eyes--you should have told him, the morning after Snap and Karé’s wedding, the morning after Poe had kissed you at the party--you should have told him you loved him.

Now, he was lying underneath your hands, dying and there was no stopping it.

“Can I have one last kiss?” Poe whispered, drawing your attention to his ashen face. “Please.”

“Stop talking like this, you’re going to be fine, Poe,” you cried, tears streaming down your dirty cheeks. “Help is coming, okay?”

“Princess...

“No! I won’t let you die!”

Your words though couldn’t stop it; Poe’s eyes slipped shut just as you heard BB-8 squeal that the transport was here, it had arrived. They’re too late, you thought, falling against Poe’s chest and burying your face against his neck. “Poe! Please! Don’t leave me... don’t go where I can’t follow! Please.”

He said nothing. You sobbed as the world around you shattered. Hands were pulling you away from Poe’s body and someone was leading you towards the rescue transport while the others worked on getting Poe out of the x-wing.

At least there would be a burial, at least you could contact his father and let him know that he could bury his son on Yavin IV, next to his mother. That’s where Poe would want to be buried, you decided. He loved Shara. She was why he became a pilot.

It was only fitting that Poe’s final resting place was with her.

-----

After arriving back on base and watching as Poe was taken away, Jessika helped you get out of your blood soaked flight suit, into the shower, and then when you were done showering, she helped you get back into clean clothes. From there, she took you by the hand to the mess, where she insisted you needed to at least have some water.

You numbly went along, not bother to talk or look at anyone. Poe was gone. He was gone and it was your fault. You hadn’t done enough to save him. It made you wish you had died as well. Something bumped into your leg and you realized it was BB-8. You vividly remembered Poe saying that he thought you would be the one to step up and take care of his beloved droid.

Fresh tears assaulted you and you felt Jessika’s arm snake around your shoulders, pulling you closer to her. She was muttering words of comfort, letting you know that it wasn’t your fault, you’d done everything you could... Poe wouldn’t want everyone to be so upset...

...that last part was probably true. Poe would be the kind of guy that would want his friends to tell funny, embarrassing stories about him, to remember him fondly, not how he’d looked in the final moments of his life. “He asked me to kiss him.”

“What?” Jessika quipped, not sure she had heard right.

“On the planet, he asked me to kiss him one last time,” you said.

“When, when did you kiss him the first time?”

“Snap and Karé’s wedding. We were so drunk. I didn’t think he remembered.”

Jessika continued to hug you. “Oh, Y/N, I’m so sorry.”

You let your tears continue to fall. “I never told him how I felt.”

She leaned her head against yours, and cried with you. “He knew; he might not have come out and said it to us, but the way he talked about you, he knew--he knew how you felt about him--he felt the same way about you.”

This hurt even more knowing that you had missed your chance to be together, even if it was only meant to be for a short period of time. Suddenly, you were glad that Jessika was only making you drink some water because you didn’t think you could stomach any food as she led you into the mess hall.

Black Squadron was sure to take care of you. They were grieving themselves, but they knew it was worse for you having been there in Poe’s final moments, knowing how you loved him. You were grateful for their companionship. Each one of them offered to walk you back to your quarters after you had some water and something to eat because Karé insisted--you declined. You had BB-8 to keep you company, you didn’t need anyone else at that moment.

So, with BB-8 rolling sadly alongside you, you headed back to your room. You already had a charging station for him--when Poe was away on missions that BB-8 couldn’t go on with him, the little droid would spend the evening in your room. It was no wonder Poe thought you would be the one to care for his droid.

Not his droid anymore; your droid.

You flopped down onto your bunk as BB-8 went to the charging station and plugged in for the night. Twenty-four hours ago your life had been so much different. There hadn’t been this pain inside of you gnawing away. Poe, I miss you.

The knock on your door started you. Jumping off the bunk you rushed to answer it. “General Organa! Ma’am...can I...do you need me for something?”

Leia smiled at you and shook her head. “No, Captain.Well, actually, yes, I do need you for something. There’s a patient down in the medical bay that keeps asking for you. Can you come down to see them?”

Confused, you nodded and agreed to go with her. You couldn’t possibly think of any patients that would be asking for you; your friends had all been fine at dinner--with the exception of feeling the large void left behind by Poe--but there was nothing in the medical bay that could help with that.

It turned out, however, there was.

Poe.

Leia placed her hand on your shoulder as you looked at him, eyes wide. “He was barely clinging to life when you arrived back on base. Medics didn’t think he was going to make it--he’s stubborn. When he woke up he kept asking if you were okay. We told him you were fine. He needed to see you.”

Swallowing your tears, you stepped inside Poe’s room. He was asleep for now, hooked up to every monitor imaginable--but he was breathing, on his own. He was alive. He hadn’t left you at all. Frozen in place for a few moments you stood there, then turned slightly to find Leia, but she was gone. When you glanced back in Poe’s direction, his eyes were open, looking at you.

Relief shown on his face, the color still not quite back in his cheeks yet. “You’re alright,” he sighed. “They told me I was the only one hurt but I...guess I needed to see it to believe it.”

“I thought...I thought you were dead,” you cried, quietly. “We all did.”

“For a while there, I thought I was dead too,” he deadpanned.

“Don’t joke, this is a serious situation, Poe,” you repeated, “You were hurt, badly.”

“Yeah, I know. Hey,” Poe said, smiling at you softly, his voice weak, “you never gave me that kiss.”

You didn’t hesitate this time; this time you moved across the room, sitting on his bed, and took his face between your hands and kissed him.

#my writing #poe dameron #poe dameron fanfiction #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron imagine #poe x reader #poe x you #150 followers celebration #reader request

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saccmaass · 4 years ago

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Writing prompts List:

Hey guys! During this crazy pandemic I listened to A LOT of music, and I found myself thinking “wow this sentence would be a great prompt” so I made a list!

Note: For further inspiration you can find under the cut the name of the song and the name of the singer.

“I’m ready for someone to love me”

“I’m talking to myself at night because I cant forget”

“You’re ripped at every edge but you’re a masterpiece”

“It’s maturity that I’m lacking”

“I’m not one to stick around”

“The autumn leaves falling down like pieces into place”

“I’m God and the Lord forgives”

“All I seem to do is break this things”

“You almost ran the red cause you were looking over me”

“I don’t wanna be alone in the darkness anymore”

“I’m not anything like I used to be”

“You taught me about your past thinking your future was me”

“There is so much you haven’t seen in me”

“Maybe I’m just too tired to keep running”

“But I crumble completely when you cry”

“I forget about you long enough to forget why I needed to”

“She is broken and won’t ask for help”

“Faces from my past return”

“Maybe you’re all I ever wanted”

“So casually cruel in the name of being honest”

“You need to calm down, you’re being too loud”

“Cause for every lie I tell them, they tell me three”

“Frightened by the bite though it’s no harsher than the bark”

“Now all he thinks about is me”

“So what are you gonna do when the world don’t orbit around you?”

“Nothing compares to a quiet evening alone”

“I don’t regret it one bit, ‘cause he had it coming”

“Just need you to tell me we’re alright, tell me we’re okay”

“Her eyes invite you to approach”

“They’re burning all the witches even if you aren’t one”

“I notice your eyes are always glued to me”

“It’s not like I’m falling in love I just want you to do me no good, And you look like you could”

“I’m writing this letter and wishing you well”

“I had a dream I got everything I wanted”

“I don’t relax very often, as often as I could”

“The devil wakes up in my head”

“And when you go don’t return to mt my love”

“Won’t somebody help me help me chase the shadows away?”

“There’s rain clouds out there that you don’t wanna feel”

“As long as I’m here no one can hurt you”

“Through fortune and flame we fall”

“I won’t hesitate for you”

“Hoping for the best but expecting the worst”

“I can’t regret the things I don’t try”

“They don’t deserve you”

“All I’ve ever known is how to hide a secret”

“You really know how to make me cry”

“I tend to freak myself out”

“Only fools fall for you”

“With you by my side I will fight and defend”

“I’m still trying everything to keep you looking at me”

“I say the wrong shit at the right times”

“You knew it still hurts underneath my scars from when they pulled me apart”

“I never learned to read your mind”

“It’s a lonely night in my bed in the heat of the summer”

“When you are young they assume you know nothing”

“I just wanna how beautiful you are”

“I had a marvelous time ruining everything”

“No reason to stay is a good reason to go”

“And isn’t it just so pretty to think all along there was some invisible string, tying you to me”

“It kills to know that you have been defeated”

“Don’t want no other shade of blue but you”

“A dark world aches for a splash of the sun”

“When you can’t sleep at night you hear my stolen lullabies”

“It’s funny how some distance makes everything seem small”

“A friend to all is a friend to none”

“Say I’m sorry without a sound”

“If I had a voice I would sing”

“I’ll be the actress starring in your bad dreams”

“I can fake a smile”

“If you never bleed, you’re never gonna learn”

“Tell me the words you long to hear and I’ll sing them loud and clear”

“Chase two girls, lose the one”

“I can feel you take control of who I am”

“I don’t trust nobody and nobody trust me”

“Those windermere peaks look like a perfect place to cry”

“Taking steps is easy, standing still is hard”

“With you I serve, with you I fall down”

“Men fight great, but women are great fighters”

“Take me to the lakes where all the poets went to die”

“Just one single glimpse of relief to make some sense of what you’ve seen”

“Loving you is a losing game”

“Darling I’m a nightmare dressed like a day dream”

“My power flurries through the air into the ground”

“I wish I could lay down beside you when the day is done”

“There’s nothing I hate more than what I can’t have”

“Loving you forever can’t be wrong”

“Haven’t you heard what becomes of curious minds?”

“Big girls cry when their heart is breaking”

“Love is a fragile little flame, it could burn out”

“Yeah let’s be clear I trust no one”

“They say she was seen on occasion pacing the rocks, staring at the midnight sea”

“You and I have history or don’y you remember”

“A shining new era is tiptoeing nearer”

“Next time I’ll be braver, I’ll be my own savor”

“See, I ain’t as cruel and vicious as I seem”

“I struggled on the ground”

“Mysterious as the dark side of the moon”

“All that time, never even knowing just how blind I’ve been”

“We’ve got a long way to go”

~~~

I’m Ready // Sam Smith and Demi Lovato

Seven Nation Army // The White Stripes

Colors // Halsey

Sad Song // Christina Perry

Stuck with U // Ariana Grande and Justin Bieber

All Too Well // Taylor Swift

Unaccommodating // Eminem

Wild Enough // Elina

All Too Well // Taylor Swift

Darkness // Eminem

She Used To Be Mine // Sara Bareilles

All Too Well // Taylor Swift

Wild Enough // Elina

Lost My Mind // Finneas

505 // Arctic Monkeys

All Too Well // Taylor Swift

She Used To Be Mine // Sara Bareilles

No Time To Die // Billie Eilish

Lost My Mind // Finneas

All Too Well // Taylor Swift

You Need To Calm Down // Taylor Swift

I did Something Bad // Taylor Swift

505 // Arctic Monkeys

I did Something Bad // Taylor Swift

Ain’t It Fun // Paramore

Crushcrushcrush // Paramore

I did Something Bad // Taylor Swift

Level Of Concern // Twenty One Pilots

No. 1 Party Anthem // Arctic Monkeys

I did Something Bad // Taylor Swift

Crushcrushcrush // Paramore

No. 1 Party Anthem // Arctic Monkeys

Mama // My Chemical Romance

Everything I Wanted // Billie Eilish

Chaos And Piss // Pink

Coffin // Jessie Reyez

Mama // My Chemical Romance

Gimme! Gimme! Gimme! (A Man After Midnight) // ABBA

Chaos And Piss // Pink

Everything I Wanted // Billie Eilish

Mama // My Chemical Romance

Hesitate // Jonas Brothers

Forever Young // Alphaville

Scrawny // Wallows

Everything I Wanted // Billie Eilish

Empty Handed // Lea Michele

Ocean Eyes // Billie Eilish

Scrawny // Wallows

FOOLS // Troye Sivan

Keep Holding On // Avril Laving

Mirrorball // Taylor Swift

Scrawny // Wallows

Hoax // Taylor Swift

Exile// Taylor Swift

I’m Ready // Sam Smith and Demi Lovato

Cardigan // Taylor Swift

Best Part // H.E.R (ft. Daniel Caesar)

The Last Great American Dynasty // Taylor Swift

Something Gotta Give // Camila Cabello

Invisible String // Taylor Swift

Wires // The Neighborhood

Hoax // Taylor Swift

Cough Syrup // Young The Giant

My Tears Ricochet // Taylor Swift

Let It Go // Frozen

Cardigan // Taylor Swift

Hold On For Dear Love // Bridgit Mendler

If I Had A Heart // Fever Roy

Look What You Made Me Do // Taylor Swift

Human // Christina Perry

The 1 // Taylor Swift

Break The Cycle // You + Me

Cardigan // Taylor Swift

Golden // Harry Styles

Look What You Made Me Do // Taylor Swift

The Lakes // Taylor Swift

You’ve Got Time // Regina Spektor

Epiphany // Taylor Swift

Salute // Little Mix

The Lakes // Taylor Swift

Epiphany // Taylor Swift

Arcade // Duncan Laurence

Blank Space // Taylor Swift

Let It Go // Frozen

Hiding My Heart // Adele

Gorgeous // Taylor Swift

Dark Paradise // Lana Del Ray

Wonderland // Taylor swift

Big Girls Cry // Sia

I Know Places // Taylor Swift

Elastic Heart // Sia

The Last Great American Dynasty // Taylor Swift

Rumor Has It // Adele

Be Prepared // The lion King

Turning Tables // Adele

I’ve Got A Dream // Tangled

Birds Set Free // Sia

I’ll Make A Man Out Of You // Mulan

I See The Light // Tangled

Capsized // You + Me

#writing #writing prompt #songs #taylor swift #demi lovato #eminem #sia #billie eilish #singers #pink #music #one shots #drabble #headcanons #writing prompts #marvel #fandoms

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