#watch them try to out-blue-ball each other in increasingly Extra ways

[sparkwhorunswithwolves]

I don’t know why, but now I’m picturing Peter as a tiny kitten agressively shredding Chris’ “clothes”.

Fashinable Hunter Clothes become a thing by accident, because Chris doesn’t really care what they put him in on a day to day basis, but he also doesn’t have the same range of motion in some of those things and “Clothes in a fight are not optional, Peter“.

---

Chris nearly has a heart attack when he sees the nipple pircings.

Victoria calls Chris the second Peter left the building because that was Rude and is Just Not Done. And deserves to be Punished.

Because this is where Peter miscalculated.

He’s had his half hour of peacocking half naked through Victoria’s office, but he then leaves them alone, and with no way of getting his hands on them either.

So he gets to his hotel room, they text for a bit, and Peter spends the night feeling smug about himself.

Until he gets to the meeting, and is prepared to waste 3 to 5 hours listening to these idiots talk.

He gets the first text an hour into the meeting, asking him how it’s going.

Then he gets the pictures; Victoria in a white lacy top, her back to the camera; Chris in a light grey shirt that’s at least 2 sizes too small and tight pants that leave nothing to the imagination.

And Peter will never not appreciate pictures of his 2 favourite people, but he also knows them enough to not trust this.

Chris bend over his car, clounds in the background.

A picture of both of them together in the rain, completely soaked, their clothes hiding absolutely nothing.

Both of them in their bed after sex, halfway through the meeting.

Peter is stuck here for the next 4 days. He doesn’t like this game anymore. :(

Chris Argent + tight shirts

[ohheyitsokay]

good eye

part 4 of the ‘hey batter batter’ series

pairing: Francisco Morales (Frankie, Catfish) x reader

wordcount: 3.5k (I’m only 14% sorry about that)

warnings: strong language, extremely mild injury, Benny Miller working out, a little bit of a cliffhanger ending

summary: it’s a Triple Frontier baseball AU! Trust me, you don’t need to know anything about baseball. 

“good eye” is an encouragement for batting players, essentially applauding them for having good judgement when and when not to swing.

In this chapter, the guys becoming increasingly aware of how interesting you are to the whole gang - and what they’re going to do about it. 

>>

Bottom of the ninth inning – the end of the game.

Sometimes players fixated on the score, glancing at the flashing lights or acting desperately but for Will, keeping it in his head was just as natural as breathing. Floating around first base made it easy for him to keep an eye on everything, and stay focused under the summer sun. His team was up by two.

The opposition was at bat – their final advantage as the home team. He didn’t feel particularly nervous, but couldn’t breathe easy just yet. They already had two outs, thanks to his little brother’s inhuman speed and some excellent Garcia pitching, and just one more to go before it was all over. Preferably, this would happen before the man on third made it to home base. 

There was a bead of sweat rolling down, down, down his temple over his cheekbone, and into his beard. The clouds from the start of the game were long gone – even with his cap, his blue eyes were getting tired.

They were focused on the batter, not even Pope, and never the crowd, since it was always just a blur of noise and rival colors and waving hands. The closer the game came to an end, the more the mass of people writhed with tension. It was better just to ignore it. There was no reason at all, but he looked up just for a split second and he saw a single, tiny form make itself clear, sending a confusing thrill down his spine.

A familiar crack rang through the air and he snapped back to focus. The batter was hurling towards him, the crowd was holding it’s breath as he looked around, almost frantically.

Where was the ball?!

Your form was still in his minds eye, he didn’t understand, but then – there, in the outfield. No, here. Instinct had taken over.

It was in his glove, and his left toe had found first base. Will heard a curse as the opposing player plowed behind him a second too late, a yell from the umpire, and then the satisfying groans of the other team’s fans.

Pope crashed into him first, then whoever else was the closest. It was giddy and triumphant chaos, hands clapping his shoulder, sweaty hugs, slaps, and high fives, and Will barely noticed any of it. Jogging back to the locker room was quick, the crunch of their shoes in the grit of the field like a stampede, impossibly loud. The locker room wasn’t as bad. It would have been louder if they had lost, like they had expected. Something still felt strange in his gut as they changed and rinsed off and packed their things.

You were interesting to him, he liked how real you were. He was normally the one that grounded others, that kept his head, learned his lessons and left the game on the field. It was nice, spending time with someone he didn’t have to do that for – or really anything for. There wasn’t a need to put on a show for you, or be your steady sidekick. It was nice. But it had only been a lunch and a night at the bar, no reason to know the shape of you, much less be thrown off by it.

He was taking extra care to clean his newest tattoo, absentminded, when the locker-talk caught his attention.

This was the first away game they had won this season, and everyone was debating why their luck had changed. Some of them were arguing loudly, ridiculously, and as usual, his friends started gravitating together, interested, but with lower voices and cooler heads.

“Do you think it was because I wore last weekend’s socks, Fish?” Benny was grinning, as his friends eyebrows answered for him. Frankie was superstitious, but in a way he’d gotten from his abuela, not the game. Will had a thought, the confusing last moment of the game clicking into the conversation, his eyes meeting Pope's for a moment.

“Actually, I have a theory,” he kept his voice quiet. If the rest of the team got wind that William Miller was participating in the banter, they’d be all over him, sure he was right only because he rarely cared. His friends looked at him, curiously, and he chewed on the idea for a moment, liking it more and more until he actually believed himself when he told them.

Their good luck charm?

You.

-

Tom had missed the conversation, occupied with a love-sick staff member in a quiet corner of the stadium.

He would never admit it, but he always needed a distraction when the winning catch had nothing to do with him. And Molly had to travel with the team most weeks anyway, the availability becoming increasingly more appealing than trying his luck with a random fan.

The next day after practice, he found her again and this time, despite the crude nature of the location, he took little more time. It was strange, to grab her without pent up frustration driving his actions, but not an entirely unwelcome change of pace.

He didn’t dwell on it, almost running away, but she did, trailing her fingers over the places his had been as she put herself together again. She wanted to remember each one, to savor them like it was the first time. And maybe it was – the very first time he had even kissed her with no particular personal agenda. Of that, she didn’t feel as guilty about wanting more.

Tom had long since slipped out the door when she finished the process, just slipping on her heels when the someone knocked.

Opening it, she found an eager and awkward shortstop pushing into her office. He seemed nervous, more nervous than she had seen him during photo shoots and press conferences and final innings. It wasn’t what she expected – not the demeanor the players normally held when they asked for favors. Professional athletes were confidant, suave, even. Ben had something else going on, something sweeter, maybe even innocent.

He called her ma’am, and she rolled her eyes when he asked for you number.

“Don’t you boys ever talk?” she was kind of annoyed. Ben was confused, it showed on his face.

“Tom got it awhile ago,” she started, and he got it, immediately. The older man hadn’t told any of them that you would be at the bar last week. He wondered if you knew he had arranged it. Something felt off but before he could ponder it she finished.

“And Santi got it yesterday.” Actually, she was more than annoyed. You hadn’t seemed special at all when you’d been there opening weekend. Your grandfather was sweet but nothing about that day could explain why three of the players were willing to bend the rules to find you again.

Tom’s voice rang in her ears: he’s got it bad for her. That didn’t quite fit what she was seeing, but she cooled down a little.

She didn’t even have to shoo him away, his thank you, ma’am, sorry to bother you made her feel like an old lady as he turned on his heels and trotted off.

The younger Miller was increasingly thoughtful, but he could feel something shift in the air. Then he shrugged it off. He was sure he’d find out, sooner or later.

-

“Ben, where’s your brain?” Catfish had caught him making eyes upside-down at the girl standing by the athletic trainer while he was mid workout. He didn’t really need a partner to work out, but they tried to go together, to spot on another and to argue over who could bench press the most.

He watched as his friend’s brain and body scrambled to put down the weights and he stood up too fast.

Across the room, girlish laughter bubbled and Benny blushed, still not attending as he grabbed the water bottle he was being offered and squirted himself in the mouth.

“What?”

Frankie shot him an amused look, gesturing vaguely, his point now proven. This had happened before. The young player was almost certainly going to tell him some random information now to distract him and trying to avoid the inevitable teasing.

“Did you know Tom got her number?”

It worked. There was almost no context, but he knew immediately and there was a twist in his stomach. It was the answer to a question he didn’t know had been on his mind - Catfish fully short circuited.

Redfly got your number? That was why Frankie had found him putting the moves on you before they were scheduled to meet. He was shaking his head, dazed, when Ben added, “And Santi got it a couple days ago, too.”

A moment of silence, and then,

“Fucking what?!” 

Heads around the private gym turned.

Ben hissed for quiet as he dragged him towards the locker room, and he found himself allowing it as he heart tried to catch up with his mind. No way Pope was going after you too.

“Weird, right?” Frankie felt like ‘weird’ was putting it mildly.

“I just asked for it,”

“You -"

“- because I wanted to be friends, but,” the younger man was ignoring his sputtering panic. He didn’t know if he should be mad or grateful. “Why wouldn’t they tell us?”

That stopped his racing heart. That was the question, wasn’t it? Frankie dragged his hand down his face, smoothed his mustache, readjusted his hat, trying fruitlessly to ground himself.

He said something noncommittal in response, barely hearing himself as he changed the topic. Ben was watching him, he could tell, but it wasn’t as though he could explain why he had reacted so strongly. He didn’t even know why.

It’s not like the feel of you against his hand was all he had been thinking about for the past few days.

His head was spinning, and not in the same way as when he had heard you were at the last game.

Of course other men had their eyes on you. You were gorgeous. His hand twitched on the locker as an image of him pressing you against it flashed through his mind. Shoving it down, he moved on.

You were smart, too, and kind. Certainly he couldn’t be the only one who liked the way you looked when you were thinking, or the little messiness of your hair, or the curve of your neck and shoulders as you leaned against the table.

There was a flare of something green in his chest. He was thinking about your hand on his arm, the way it made him feel like he was your anchor, the white lines on the ground guiding your feet. That, was his. For a moment, his brain reminded him of your lips on Pope’s cheek, your fingers on Benny’s shoulder, and palm on Redfly’s jaw. The locker door resonated in the quiet room as he slammed it shut. Even your eyes in Ironhead's for just a moment… it made him want to kidnap you, press into your space, surround you with his body until all you could see or touch or think about was him. Or maybe it was the opposite. Maybe what he was aching for was for there to be a room full of handsome, athletic, perfect men, and for you to seek him. Find his eyes, and hold them in yours until you reached each other. To choose him. 

Either. Or maybe both.

Whatever he’d been saying got lost on his tongue.

Benny was looking at him thoughtfully, and Frankie sighed, his anger slowing to a simmer. It was absurd, he knew that. Knowing didn’t make it go away, but it helped.

Really, he should be lucky he got any of you at all, that alone was a minor league miracle. Hiking his bag up, he clapped his friend on the shoulder and changed the topic once again.

The smell of dirt and grass and sweaty men faded as they walked out of the room, and when someone made a group chat that included you, Frankie remembered that he liked his friends. The bats in his bag clanged like bells, and Ben said something that made him laugh, and he thought he was a fool to have forgotten it.

-

Santiago was the first one there, over half an hour early, by accident or design you had no idea. He made all of James' things look small, and it made you laugh, because you knew it was only the beginning.

You’d been added to a group chat a few days ago. The list of total bizarre things happening to you was increasing every day of knowing them but you couldn’t exactly complain. It was exciting and honestly, you ached for them in a way you couldn’t explain. Seeing Santiago sent sharp excitement through the anxiety of preparation, but even with the handsome man removing his shoes, you couldn’t help but check behind him for Francisco.

It had been a joke, sort of. They had invited you out and you retaliated by saying you owed them a meal. You should’ve known, already, they weren't afraid to take you up on it, and you’d had to use James as your crutch. His house was much bigger than your apartment, and he was so excited to talk to them it was adorable. Before you’d even turned to Santi properly, they were already chatting, and you watched, smiling.

He looked good. It really was almost as if they actually were family – not physically but you could see it in how they interacted. Santi was more cleaned up than he’d been at the bar, thanking your grandfather like it really was an honor to be welcomed into his home. Jimbo was standing as tall as he could to scruff the younger man’s perfect hair, and you laughed as he clarified that they were always welcome, as long as they helped cook. And when Santi grinned, agreeing readily, the line on his forehead smoothed.

The stress of hosting even such strange guests lessened again, and you slipped back into the kitchen.

Not two minutes later, he found you there, and you could feel him watching you, lounging against the door as graceful and powerful as a panther. Slicing vegetables to grill, you let him, for the time being. He would tell you what he was thinking if he wanted to.

It made you smile again, when his large, calloused hands began to make motions for you to let him take over. Determined or maybe even insistent, but not entitled. He mimicked your cuts, checking silently for your approval, and you saw something in his eyes you hadn’t noticed before.

Over food and drinks he had been smart and clever and passionate – an idyllic picture for over-ambitious fans. None of that was gone, but there was another layer under it, something distinctly humble, and if your dreams hadn’t already been occupied, you might’ve fallen in love with him a little bit. Prepping food to the sounds of quiet music and the rhythmic thumps of the knife against the cutting board felt domestic, but in a familial way. There was no pressure for words, for you, and when he did speak, it seemed as though he agreed.

“This might sound fu… uh, stupid but I’m glad there aren’t bobble heads around.” Of him and his friends, he implied. You wondered if he checked his language for your sake, or out of mindfulness for James.

“He really respects you guys,” you shrugged. “He’s always lecturing me on remembering that you’re human, and not overstepping normal people boundaries.”

Pausing your salad assembly, you stole a glance at him, only to find deep brown eyes looking at you curiously. His hand scraped over the stubble on his jaw, and you could almost see his thoughts, running diamonds in his head.

“Is that why you shot Redfly down?” he wasn’t looking at you, so he missed the tilt of you head. You didn’t need to know the nickname to know what he was talking about, but he clarified a moment later.

You weren't prepared for this to come up, but it shouldn’t have surprised you.

“Yes and no,” was the most honest answer. “He’s already got a girl, whether he knows it or not.” You felt good, talking to him, good like laughing, so you did. It was a strange moment, when the team’s outfield dreamboat had leaned in to kiss you, and you turned him away, but it wasn’t weighing on you at all.

Santiago was grinning at you, hands still, and you wondered if this was the first moment the two of you were seeing each other clearly. Biases and judgement and wariness stripped away easily in the kitchen, like the peels of potatoes.

“So,” his tone and eyes were mischievous, and you had never felt more like an almost stranger was your brother. “If one of the other guys asked you out, you would consider it?”

Face flaring with heat, you barely contained a squawk. He let out a triumphant noise and you shoved him. There was no doubt he wasn’t talking about himself, but you still wanted to melt into the floor.

“Don’t think I haven’t seen –”

“Shut up shut up shut up!”

Both of you were laughing when the other men pushed through the front door.

Santi answered their raised eyebrows by sticking out his tongue.

-

There was moments all the time in baseball, where when you have the ball and have to choose which opposing player gets to make it safe and who you’re going to try to get out. It’s a split second where you feel torn in two, and that was exactly how Frankie felt now.

When he had seen you, flushed and laughing, part of him wanted to give a damn thank you speech to Pope for helping bless the world with that, and the other part of him wanted to murder his best friend.

They had all pushed into the little home and he tried to focus on greeting James and looking at the cozy, dated furniture, the humble decorations, clearly cleaned just for them. There had been a moment, where you’d waved at what felt like just him, and his heart rate had doubled. He tried to talk with the guys, the friend you had invited, or help grill or set the table or … anything, but all he wanted was to find you again.

Staying by your side the other night felt as natural and the ball hitting the palm of his glove, time and time again. It was exactly where he was meant to be.

And you were so lovely he wanted you to press into him so close he absorbed just a fraction of your glow. He wanted to wrap you up and take you with him wherever he went, or maybe just settle into your shadow, to follow you forever. It felt greedy, which he didn’t really mind, but the problem was that it was unrealistic.

You were working hard to be a good host, floating around, making sure everyone was content, helping, handling things, or happily having heaping helpings of your cooking. There was another game on the TV, and James was telling stories, and his friends had made themselves right at home. In a strange way, it felt like a Sunday with his abuelos, and cousins, casual and comfortable. It was telling, of you, fitting, and he liked that, but it was distinctly missing... you.

Santi found him, listening to James, trying not to look over his shoulder for you, hand twitching to find it’s place on you again. They kept their voices low, trying to be respectful, as they caught up on the last few minutes, hours, days. Frankie felt a pang of guilt, wondering if he had been subconsciously avoiding his friend. There was still some more private communicating they had to do… He offered Pope a drive. That would do it.

There was an understanding as the looked at each other, under the music and talk, and clatter of dishes. Will was making James laugh, loud and care-free. The uneasiness settled in his gut – he trusted Santi with his life. He could certainly trust him now, with whatever this was.

Not long after, Frankie found himself being herded through the little house, around tables with glasses and napkins, and back into the little kitchen. There was a reassuring squeeze on his shoulder, and then he was alone with you, for the very first time.

Your eyes were big, staring at him, as you held a pile of dirty dishes.

He wanted to kiss you.

Of course, he didn’t, only cursing himself as he awkwardly offered to help. When you shook your head, your hair fluffed, and with the sunlight through the window, he was having trouble remembering how to function.

Frankie was solid, known for being sturdy and safe. Not like Will was, with his ethics and upbringing like roots into the ground, but that of Atlas, supporting the world on his shoulders.

He was the cornerstone of the team, the background man behind the curtain, with hair and eyes and thighs that Santi swore made women swoon.

And he was doing dishes in the kitchen of your grandfathers house, weak in the knees because you had smiled at him, impressed and grateful. His mind was telling at him to talk to you more, to say something interesting or impressive or to make you laugh when he heard you yelp.

The sound was awful, and adrenaline pumped into his blood as he realized you were hurt. Swinging around he didn’t see you for a moment before registering you had sat down, hard, and were clutching your wrist. There was a thick line, throbbing and an angry red – burnt.

When his knees hit the tile, he didn’t even notice the dull pain. His hands grasped yours as you tried to apologize, explaining the stove was still hot after you had turned it off. Frankie heard you, really he did, but he mind was chanting do something! And stringing Spanish curses, demanding that he protect you, that he fix it.  

He didn’t realize how close he was to you until your eyes found his. it crashed into him the realization that if he leaned forward, tilted his head a bit, and sunk a little lower onto his knees, he could have your mouth against his. 

Panic slowing, he looked at you. You were so sweet and beautiful, collapsed on the kitchen floor with him like the two of you were the only things in the world, and you were trying to tell him you were fine, that it was a silly accident. Frankie felt ridiculous, caught up in his thoughts, and he just... threw aside logic.

Time stopped, and he kissed the burn.

>>

taglist:

@fangirl-316 @scribbledghost @writeforfandoms @beautyagegoodnesssize

hey batter batter taglist:

@icanbeyourjedi @studyofawearymind @hnt-escape @athalien @the-witty-pen-name

[songbirdsingingthings]

As The Years Went By (Daichi Sawamura x Reader

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN ANY OF THESE CHARACTERS, THEY BELONG TO HARUICHI FURUDATE You didn’t really understand why people hated the rain… you found it rather beautiful. Maybe it had something to do with age. No longer were you anxiously waiting to go and play outside with the kids of the neighborhood - now you were studying for your final exams, holding a job at the local bakery, and on top of that, being manager of the boys volleyball team. Being a 3rd year has been, to put it bluntly, kicking your ass. You never really meant to make your schedule this busy, all of the opportunities just kind of fell in your lap as the years went by. 

The first was as the Karasuno boys volleyball team manager. You had loved volleyball for most of your life, but never expressed the want or need to actually play the sport. You were far more interested in looking at the subtle movements between the players on the court and how in tune they all were with each other. That’s what led you to becoming friends with a brown-haired boy when you were about twelve years old. You saw him playing volleyball with some other boys in your grade at the middle school court. You had to stay behind at the middle school since you were in charge of planning out your year’s graduation party. After writing down where most of your grade was going for high school, you were exhausted. But, curious as ever, you poked your head out and watched the boys, bump, set, and spike the ball. The brown haired boy, however, caught your attention. The grin on his face was kind of mesmerizing and the way he moved with such intent and purpose to receive the ball was incredible to you. It was almost as if-

“Hey! Do you want to play?” The boy’s voice startled you, causing you to drop the big binder that you were holding. Embarrassed, you managed to hoist the heavy thing back into your arms. You shook your head, “U-uh, sorry! I was just watching, I don’t play. I can go now!” The brown haired boy couldn’t believe how fast you were talking, so he jogged right up to you and placed a hand on your shoulder. It was a little weird, considering that you were about two inches taller than him, but he was smiling nonetheless. 

“Well, why don’t you sit down on the bench then? It’s a lot closer to the action!” He said. You blinked, speechless for a few seconds, and then returned a small smile.

“Okay, as long as I’m not bothering you guys.” You said. The brown haired boy shook his head.

“You’re anything but a bother! It’s like we're playing for an audience now. I’m Daichi Sawamura, by the way.” 

“Y/N L/N,” You said, smiling. 

From that day on, you and Daichi had begun a friendship that grew stronger through each experience you went through. First it was revealing to each other that you both had chosen to attend Karasuno High. The wide smiles on each of your faces were considered blinding to anyone who could see them, except to each other. Then, it was your decision to become manager of the boys volleyball when Daichi had made the team. The moment you walked into the gym as the boys started to warm up, you knew that you belonged there. The smiles from the boys in your year greeted you warmly. Asahi Azumane, Kōshi Sugawara, Daichi Sawamura, and you had formed quite the friend group ever since that day.

Next was your job at the local bakery. As a second year, you wanted to earn your own money. The times that weren’t taken up by your managerial position or your avid studying, you and your friends would go out to the mall or at restaurants, and you always felt bad asking your parents for money. They, of course, were happy to give you spending money, but due to your independent nature, you longed for a tiny taste of the real world. So, you interviewed at your favorite little place to study and grab a bite to eat. Thankfully, the people who ran the place already knew, and loved, you. They put you in an apron almost immediately and set you up at the cash register. The look on Daichi, Asahi, and Kōshi’s face as they walked inside to grab a cup of coffee after practice was incredible. The three of them reached over the counter to give you a tight hug in congratulations. After that, they became regulars at the little shop.

And finally, you were in the top 5 percentile of your grade. This was both a blessing and a curse to find this out. You were happy that the hard work you were putting in was paying off, but that only made you study more and more. It caused a somewhat withdrawal of you spending time with friends and really having fun. Your schedule consisted of going to school, volleyball practice, working a three hour shift at the bakery, and then studying until it was almost 2 in the morning. 

Currently you were nodding off during volleyball practice. The drumming of rain on the top of the gym was like a perfect little lullaby to you. You heard the yells coming from Daichi to the team, having them go through various workouts. Normally you would’ve been wide awake, maybe even ogling Daichi as you could normally see the strain of his muscles through his shirt when they were doing burpees. As the years went by, thoughts of Daichi were increasingly invading your mind, but you weren’t opposed to that. Daichi was special. He was caring and respectful of everyone, well mostly everyone, he met. His commitment to his team was admirable and he maintained good grades all at the same time. A special place in your heart was dedicated to this boy. 

Thankfully, the owners of the bakery had given you an entire week off from work due to them having renovations done. While you were free from that responsibility, the principal gave you a massive one recently - designing and managing the 3rd years end of year dance that was rapidly approaching. Not really having the ability to refuse, you “gladly” took on the operation. Your brain was now fried. You kept getting  budgets for the team and the school mixed up, all of the opinions of the students and faculty were revolving around in your head, and now you had to choose between streamers and balloons. So, you thought that if you closed your eyes for a second, you would be able to think clearly. Well, you fell asleep. Oops.

A shaking of your shoulders woke you up. As your eyes slowly opened, you saw gorgeous chocolate eyes staring into your own Y/E/C ones.

“Y/N, are you okay?” Daichi asks, concerned. Nodding, you raise yourself so that you’re sitting. The gym was mostly empty - practice must be over. Mentally face-palming for missing the entire practice, you were about to ask what had happened when Daichi spoke. “You didn’t miss anything. Just Hintata and Kageyama bickering over something stupid.” Earning a laugh out of you, Daichi gave you his hand to help you stand up. Gladly accepting, you stood, smoothed out your skirt, and grabbed your bag. Looking out of the double doors of the gym, you softly cursed. It was still raining and you had forgotten to grab an umbrella this morning. 

“Do you happen to have an extra umbrella?” You asked Daichi sheepishly. What a stupid question, you thought, nobody has two umbrellas with them!

“No, but I do have one. Care if I walk you home?” Daichi asks, giving you a classic smile. You give him an even bigger one. Not at all.

The walk home was lovely. Since you and Daichi don’t live that far away from each other, you didn’t feel guilty for having him walk you to your house. The two of you talked about the team, your job, and your new responsibilities with planning the dance.

“I just don’t get it Dai! I mean the logical color choices are black and orange because those are our school colors, but there’s this whole group of people who are campaigning for silver, white, and blue! Like where the hell did those colors come from?!” Daichi listened to you vent, nodding and laughing at the appropriate moments. Finally, the two of you reached your house. Just as you expected, none of the lights were on. Your parents were very busy people with jobs that required them to work pretty late hours. Seeing this, you sighed. “Thank you for walking me home Daichi, I really appreciate it.” You say, giving him a smile. 

“Hey, if it’s okay…” Daichi begins, blushing a little, “what if I stay with you until your parents get home? I don’t really like the thought of you here all alone.” Now it was your turn to blush. Of course, you have spent lots of time one on one with Daichi, but this felt oddly… intimate. Of course, you were perfectly fine with that. 

“Y-yeah! Come on in!” You say, opening the door and allowing Daichi to step into your house. You shut the door behind you as Daichi walks around, looking at the pictures hung up on the walls. You see him stop at one, which intrigues you. Making your way over to where Daichi was standing, you look at the photo. It was from your first year at Karasuno. You were, surprisingly the second tallest out of you, Daichi, Asahi, and Kōshi, but that fact no longer held up. Daichi was now a couple inches taller than you, but you didn’t really mind. Laughing a little, you nudge Daichi with your hip. “Shorty,” You say with a slightly teasing tone. Daichi looks back to you, emphasizing that he was, in fact, actually looking down at you.

“Oh yeah?” He chuckles, “We’ll see about that.” He grabs your phone from your pocket and raises his hand so that it was the highest he could possibly reach.

“Hey! That’s so not fair, your arms are so much longer than mine!” You shout, jumping up a little to try and snatch your phone back from him. That’s when your phone pinged with a notification. Oh shit. Oh shit, shit, shit. You remember texting your friend, Kiyoko,  about how Daichi offered to walk you home. She knew about your crush for the brown-haired captain, so the text she sent back would probably be about Daichi. This situation couldn’t be more awful.

“Oh look! It’s from Kiyoko, I wonder what she says!” Daichi says in a teasing manner. 

“W-wait! Hold up, give me it back!” You say, a lot more desperately now, chasing him around the downstairs floor. He managed to gain quite a lead against you and flopped onto the coach so that he could read the text.

“‘Why don’t you ask Daichi already Y/N, it’s not like he’s gonna say no’...” Daichi read aloud, confused about the nature of the text. As soon as he read that, your eyes went wide. “What are you gonna ask me about, Y/N/N?”  Trying to think of an answer quickly, Daichi knew that wheels were spinning in your head. Standing up slowly, he walked over to you, and put his hands on your shoulders. He was no longer the boy asking you if you wanted to play volleyball. He was a man trying to get an answer out of you. “Y/N, what were you going to ask me about?” He says, softly now.

“Dammit Kiyoko…” you mutter, looking at your feet. Daichi knew you well enough to tell when you were lying, so you were going to have to tell him the truth. Yes, you wanted you and him to go to that stupid dance you were planning together. You have been daydreaming about it for the past month. You in a pretty dress and him in a handsome suit, walking arm in arm into that banquet hall. He would ask you to dance with him to a slow song, leading you to the middle of the dance floor. His hands would be on your hips, yours wrapped around the back of his neck, maybe even playing with his hair a bit. At the end of the night, he would bring you to a quiet spot, maybe the practice gym, and confess his love to you. Alas, that was in your imagination. Now, you had to tell him, indirectly, that you like him. “Umm, Kiyoko was referring to uh,” you swallow and close your eyes, your head still tilted down towards your feet, “she was referring to me asking you to the dance.” Silence greeted the two of you for a bit, but was interrupted by Daichi wrapping his big, strong arms around you. He held you tightly and even laughed a little bit. A little shocked, you open your eyes. He pulls away from you, just a bit so that you and him can see each other.

“Well I guess you beat me to it, huh?” He says, giving you a grin. Your confused face makes him laugh even harder. “I was going to ask you tomorrow. I had the whole thing planned out with the team. We even got you a volleyball that says “Dance with me?” on it.” Daichi laughs out loud. Now, you joined him. “Since it’s kind of out in the open though, I guess I can do it right now.” Pulling the volleyball out of his bag, you recognize it immediately.

“Is this the ball from when you invited me to play?” You asked slyly, taking the ball out of his hands, looking at the ball. You found the “Dance with me?” written on the part just above where you’re supposed to pump it up.

“Yeah, how could I get rid of it? That was the first time I really spoke to a cute girl.” He said, winking at you. Your cheeks lit up. “So, Y/N, will you go to the dance with me? And then, go out with me after?” He asks. You give him the biggest smile he’s ever seen on you.

“Of course Daichi!” Feeling high on adrenaline, you move towards him and softly grab his face with your hands. He nods immediately which prompts you to close the small gap between the two of you. His lips were soft and his hold on you was tender. His hands wrapped around your waist, but slowly inched up so that your face was now in his hands. You two pulled apart for what seemed was way too soon, but you were pretty out of breath.

“So… what color tie should I get?”

[savoryscribbles]

Kaminari Relizes He Might Be Bisexual

Main masterlist

Bnha masterlist

So I love Kaminari, Shinsou, Bakugo, and Kirishima, and I ship them all with myself. But subversive that’ll never happen I also ship them with other characters, I love Kiribaku, Tododeku, and and Shinkami, because I’m a sucker for the grumpy/rude x ball of sunshine trope, it’s my favorite ever. So here have this drabble I have made up which is based on this post here by the lovely @paunchsalazar specifically the first panel. I hope I did it justice. :;(∩^﹏^∩);:

Also, haha, Sweater Weather played while writing this, completely by accident, I just put my playlist on shuffle, and I have over 1,000 songs on there so it was like over a 1/1000(probably less than that? Idk how shuffling works on spotify) that it would play and it did lmao.

Warnings: Angst(I guess it is considering the kind of stuff I write), boi questioning his sexuality, fluff, platonic comfort(I guess)????, swearing, Kirishima being the best gay bff everrrrr, Shinsou being lowkey heteronormative(even tho he’s big gay), teeny tiny manga spoilers(only about the stuff right after where the anime leaves off), Shinsou being oblivious(surprising I know)

Another thing I’d like to say, this isn’t my usual content, I usually only post x reader stuff, but I hope you all enjoy nevertheless. Without farther a due...

⊱ ❀ ✿ ꕥ ✿ ❀ ⊰

Kaminari knew he liked girls since he was younger. Sure he had gay friends, and sure he might have thought once or twice ‘do I like boys?’ ‘Am I gay?’ But he always shot down these questions quickly, because he liked girls, he can’t be gay if he liked girls, right?

Then why did he feel this way? Why was his heart racing whoever Shisou walked by? He thought this feeling was solely reserved for girls, at least for him. Need less to say he was confused. And scared, what if he wasn’t straight? He knew he had no reason to be scared, and there was nothing wrong with not being straight.

Shinsou knew he was gay. He never likes girls as more than a friend, and when he started his teen years and looked at yah know... porn. He always found himself to be the most turned on by the male, even when he first started, and watched the most basic boring ass porn ever, he’d always focus on the man more.

So while it was a surprise that he found himself staring longingly at the blond fuckboy, it was not because he was a boy. His suprise had was more because Kaminari was not his type, at all. His type were the most stereotypical ‘bad boys’ or people who were openly gay. He liked to say he didn’t have time for people questioning themselves.

Both of them on the outside acted unfased by their realizations. Well, Kaminari tried, he failed though. Shinsou didn’t though, which made Kaminari more worried. Because what if Shinsou doesn’t like him?

All of these thoughts about his sexuality ran through his head nonstop, ever since Shinsou had done the joint training with classes 1-A and 1-B. And he tried to push them down, and hope they went away, but they didn’t. And they got worse when Shinsou joined 1-A. And one day Kaminari was just so sick of being confused, and had the courage to actually talk about his thoughts, so he brought it up to Kirishima. ‘He’s gay, so he would know stuff, right?’

“Hey. Um Kirishima?” Kaminari started in shire of where to begin.

“What’s up bro?” Kirishima responded.

“Nothing. Not nothing though, there’s something I need to ask you.”

“Well shoot bro, anything you need you can tell me.” Kirishima said, and luckily his encouraging words helped boost Kaminari confidence.

“How do you know if your gay?” Kaminari asked quickly.

“Hmm, well that’s kind of difficult, I guess I didn’t know if I was gay, I kind of just didn’t like girls, and found boys more attractive.” Kirishima answered, tapping his chin.

“Why do you ask? Do you think your gay?” Kirishima asked.

“Well no, because I like girls, I know I like girls, I like them a lot, but there’s a boy, and he makes me feel how I feel when I see a really cute girl.” Kaminari said nervously, finding it difficult to actually put his feelings to words.

“So you think you like boys and girls?” Kirishima questioned, trying to understand the situation at hand. Kaminari nodded, saying silent.

“Well to me it sounds like your bisexual, if you want a label for it, you don’t need a label if you don’t want to though.” Kirishima deduced, trying time help his friend the best he could. But Kaminari nodded and said a simple ‘thanks’ before walking away.

‘Bisexual huh? Bisexual, I like girls and boys, I am bisexual’ Kaminari said inside his head over and over again, testing how it sounded. He liked it, it brought him peace he hasn’t felt in a while. ‘I am bisexual. I AM BISEXUAL!!!!!’

But just because he knew his sexuality doesn’t mean that he has the confidence to tell the guy he fell for. But it’s a start and he’s happy.

Shinsou found it increasingly harder to ignore his feelings towards Kaminari. Especially when they sat right next to each other, or when they trained together, or when Kaminari invited him to a study session with Kirishima and Bakugo, or when Kaminari would sit next to him at lunch.

His schedule consisted of, wakings up, think about Kaminari, get read for school while thinking about Kaminari, go to school while thinking about Kaminari, pay attention in school but inevitably getting distracted by Kaminari, go back the dorms and in his room, study while thinking about Kaminari, stay up late while thinking about Kaminari, go to bed, and repeat. This annoyed him to no end. ‘Why wont that straight fuckboy get out of my head?!’

He always did this whoever he fell for a staight boy, he’d push all the feelings down until they were gone, and it worked, so why they fuck wouldn’t it work this time? Whatever was happening, he was not having it, he was fucking done with these feelings, and one solution he never did was confess. But that was the only solution he had left.

Kaminari was ready. He was ready to tell Shinsou his feelings, he wasn’t ready for rejection but that’s not something he wanted to think about. He had just came back from the nearest floral shop, and was making his way to his dorm room, when he ran into Shinsou. He almost dropped the flowers he got. Which was something he didn’t want, he had to pay extra to get it custom made with the flowers he wanted. The bouquet consisted of blue, purple, yellow and black flowers, all colors he knew Shinsou liked, but they also represented both of them, the blue and purples for Shinsou, and black and yellow for him.

‘Oh he must be on his way to ask out a girl.’ Shinsou noticed. He hated the sting he felt in his chest, but that’s why he was here.

“I need to tell you something-“

“I need to tell you something-“ They both said at the same time.

“You can go first.” Kaminari said, as Shinsou went silent.

‘Why did he need talk to me?’ ‘There’s now way right?’ ‘No no no.’ ‘I couldn’t even date him if he did.’ ‘I don’t date people like him.’ He was to distracted by his thoughts to hear Kaminari speak.

“Hello? Earth to Shinsou?” Kaminari said waving his hand in front of him.

“Oh sorry, what did you say?” Shinsou respinded snapping back to reality.

Kaminari laughed “I just said you can go first.”

‘I love his laugh.’ ‘No bad Shinsou! No feelings no feelings for straight dudes!’

“Okay. Well I wanted to tell you... I find you attractive, like really attractive, like in the gay kind of way. But I know you’re straight, which is fine, I just need to tell you so I can get over you and move on with my life.” Shinsou said with a straight face.

Kaminari stood in shock at what he had said, happy the he felt the same. However Shinsou took this shock as the ‘suprised a gay guy likes me, a straight guy.’ Kind of suprise, so he nodded and started to walk away, which made Kaminari come out of his shock.

“Wait! That’s what I wanted to talk about though!” Kaminari said running after him. Shinsou was taken aback as he heard Kaminari’s words. He turned around to face him.

“I like you too. I find you attractive too.” He explained

“Oh and these are for you, I’ve never dated a guy before, but whenever I go out on a date with a girl a bring her flowers.” Kaminari nervously put his hand with the bouquet out, while the other found the back of his neck.

Shinsou was confused, Kaminari liked him, but he mentioned girls. He had no problem dating bisexual guys, but he had one to many experiences where they would say they’re bisexual, but end of being straight and breaking his heart.

He took the flowers “uh, thanks I guess? I’ve never gotten flower before.”

“But about the like me and girls, are you just questioning? Are you bisexual? What’s going on there?” Shinsou asked.

“Oh, umm. Well I’m pretty sure I’m bisexual, I talked to Kirishima, and he suggested it to me and I liked it, so yeah.” Kaminari shrugged.

“You don’t just ‘like’ a sexuality, it’s not something you choose.” Shinsou responds, starting to get angry, ‘so he might be messing with me huh?’

“No no it’s not like that! The label felt comfortable, like more right I guess? Than straight?” Kaminari rushed, trying to explain himself.

“Look I get that you like me, and I may like you too, but I don’t date guys who are still trying to figure their sexuality out.” Shinsou responded, and started to walk away again, he might not stay true to his words if he didn’t.

‘He’s to cute. Why does he have to be cute? He’s probably just straight.’

“Wait!!!” Kaminari cried, he wasn’t just going to let him get away, not when he knew Shinsou liked him too.

Shinsou didn’t stop this time, he kept going. ‘Don’t turn around. Don’t turn around. You don’t date straight boys. You told him, these feelings should be gone!!!!’

“Please!!!” Kaminari said, his voice getting closer to Shinsou. “Please wait let me explain! I’m not confused about my sexuality, I figured it out I’m just having a hard time putting it into words!”

‘Don’t turn around. Don’t turn around.’ ‘Fuck it.’ Shinsou turned around to find Kaminari right behind him, and he did something he’s never done. He grabbed Kaminari’s shirt and pulled him down into a kiss. ‘His lips they’re soft, so soft.’

Kaminari stood still for a moment before he started to kiss back. Snaking his hands around Shinsous neck.

“Was that as good as kissing a girl?” Shinsou asked after pulling away.

“Honestly? It was better, way better.” Kaminari reponded before kissing him again.

And it would be one of many kisses they would share.

[wildshub]

WHO: The Twilight of Adams WHAT: The boys head over to the cliff to turn on the repaired radio, hoping to get into contact with someone who can rescue them.  WHEN: Day 2 NOTE: For future reference.

Callum Callum would rather hike to the cliff and back with broken legs twenty times over than do it once with all of the other boys from the plane. Between two of the boys having to be carried and Warren teaching them all a song about how English was his favorite subject the entire way there, the Canadian felt thisclose to offing himself. The only thing keeping Callum from doing so was knowing that when they reached the cliff, they could finally turn the radio on. The radio that was now all fixed thanks to Jorts and JJ. “Yo, hey!” He called out to Sebastian when he first caught a glimpse of the boy and the fire they'd started. “They fixed the antenna. Let’s get this thing going." He practically yanked Warren off of Blue's back and dragged him over to Sebastian once they reached their destination. Not even bothering to ask Warren if he could touch his bag, Callum unzipped it and got the radio out, showing it off to Sebastian like it was the Stanley fucking Cup. "The twerps fucking did it."

Sebastian Sebastian could have waved at Callum, he could have given him any more of a greeting than the simple nod of acknowledgement that he did but he wasn't trying to be hella gay or anything, so alas, he remained fairly static. "Shit, you're kidding me," he found it hard to believe that Jorts could accomplish anything other than being chronically annoying but he didn't say that, instead he allowed himself to relish in the feeling of success, as limited as it was. "Wait, wait, wait, before we go too crazy, we need a strat," he instructed with his hands out in front of him, warning the other boys. "You said we've got limited battery on this thing- we don't want to waste it stuttering like idiots. We need to know how we're gonna handle the frequency and we need to know what we're gonna say and we need to know it by heart before we even touch that on button,"

Lukas "Yo, the fuck, dude, " Lukas objected half-assed-ly as he witnessed Callum pull Warren from Blue's back and basically dragged him over to Sebastian and the fire like they were about to sacrifice the Nordic cripple. Though he'd stuck towards the back of the group the hike up, now shit seemed to be happening he pushed the pace to catch up. Nudging Blue on the arm as he passed, he asked " You good? " with raised brow, referencing the bullshit Callum was on. But he didn't linger long, making his way to Thing 1 and Thing 2 but on steroids before they ruined his whole day of work on that stupid radio. " Bro, just because you couldn't even think to turn the thing on doesn't make the rest of us Stephen Hawking or whatever the fuck, " He said, announcing his presence with dry tone. He cast a glance to Warren, just to make sure the fucker hadn't lost a leg in the last thirty seconds thanks to Callum and his island famous manners. " If we're lucky, and, really fucking stupid lucky, " he was trying his best to be serious but even with his best efforts he still sounded kind of like he was taking the piss, " the frequency hasn't moved far from whatever channel it was on to begin with. But, it was in the ocean, " and Callum basically dry humped it all night, " so chances aren't looking too hot. Whatever we say it's gotta be short enough that we can say it, wait a few seconds on that channel for response, then move on without wasting a fuckload of battery. "

Sawyer With an extra hundred-and-some pounds on Sawyer’s back, the hike up the cliff had been a bitch on his ankle. But it was considerably less damage than Liam would’ve done if he’d tried to climb up on his own – and Lord knew they needed all the manpower they could get if they were stuck here any longer than a couple nights. After letting him down, Sawyer wandered over to where the rest of the group had congregated, clapping Canada on the shoulder and standing on his tiptoes to get a good look at the radio. "Shame we can't tap into a police frequency," he said. That would be his first try if a radio happened to wash up onshore with its batteries still intact. "How about our plane number, the number of guys stranded here, and, uh...shit, to bring us some fuckin' life rafts or somethin'."

Liam while liam was extremely grateful that sawyer offered to carry him up to the cliff, he couldn't help the feeling of guilt the entire way. he may be the shortest guy out of the group, but he was still pretty stocky and muscular. lukas probably weighed less than him. but thankfully they made it and the other boy let him down, liam hopping a few times before getting steady on his feet, making sure to not put too much pressure on his bad leg. "does anyone remember the plane number?" he spoke up, feeling like he was going to be shot with a bunch of sass from the meaner members of the group. "but uh, yeah, definitely say how many of us are here..."

Blue blue nodded in response as people check in on him, and he didnt mind shooing them off but the truth was carrying warren was tiring. he leaned against a tree, catching his breath while watching the others regroup, rallying around the radio. "is there like....a global mayday code?" his words came between breaths, occassionally glsncing around. "how many of us are injured too maybe....?"

Callum Callum shrugged the Hick's hand off of his shoulder, shooting him a clear dude, the fuck? look. "Who even remembers a plane number?" He pointed out. "Does anyone know it?" A question for the rest of the huddle. "Number of guys is good. And the injured thing too." He gave Blue props in the form of a nod for that. "But global mayday code? So like what, 911?" Nothing else came to mind.

Sebastian Sebastian listened to the others, some more carefully than others. "I don't think we need to waste time talking about who's injured and who's not, nobody's dying and they'll figure it out when they get there," he suggested, though the number of people in need of rescue was definitely worth mentioning. "Nah, 911 is just the U.S. bro, there's another one for international emergencies but that's on cell phones. Radios are a whole different ball game, it doesn't work like a dial-in service"

Liam liam froze for a second as everyone started talking over each other to figure out the best way to go about this. he always had a bad habit of freezing in stressful situations, and this was about as stressful as it could get. but after some talk about 911, he tried to find his voice and speak up. "i'm pretty sure you just say, like, mayday three times or something. the other people will figure it out. you don't need a code. at least that's what they do in movies."

Lukas Lukas didn't know why telling whoever might be listening how many were injured was necessary at all but maybe they would edit before the decided on a final message. For the most part he stayed quiet (shockingly) while ideas were thrown around, just watching the two meatheads with the radio. Afraid they might get a little too riled up and break the thing, like he hadn't been basically tossing it around that very morning. He didn't know the flight number, even though his mother had said it a million and one times just yesterday, but Lukas did know an international mayday code. " Like, SOS? " He asked, looking to the group, surely these dumb motherfuckers didn't mean that and not be able to think of it. " That's the international distress code, " or if it wasn't technically, at least anyone on a boat or plane out there would know what the fuck it was.

Blue as he sat beside his pal liam, he listened in, but looked to sky like he'd see a helicoptor and could say nevermind to all this. "so..sos, uh...what 9 stranded...mayday?" it wasnt like he expected his word to make an impact but he has hoped he could organize all this before having to carry warren back down.

Sawyer Sawyer feigned hurt when Callum shrugged his hand off, rolling his lips together to stifle a chuckle when he looked away again. He couldn’t see shit with everyone huddled together like this, so he opted to step back from the group and poke a rock around with his toe. “It don’t work like a GPS,” he interjected, “so nobody’s gonna know what the hell we’re talkin’ about if we just go in with a stress signal. Flight number’s our best bet of being located, with the name of the island we were s'posed to land on second.”

Sebastian Sebastian found himself getting increasingly frustrated with the group he'd unfortunately become a part of by way of disaster. "That's a fucking morse code distress signal- not a stress signal and it's for when you don't have a radio, this is different," his voice became a little harsher as he continued. "Yes, you say mayday, we got that part sorted, okay, we need to tune into a frequency so that we're actually saying it to somebody that can actually do something about our situation and not some fucking ninety year old ham radio loser in Iowa trying to make a friend," he explained. "-but you're right. We need flight number or anybody with a unique enough name. I'm Sebastian Claude Sergeant," he announced, though he wasn't convinced it was unique enough. "Blue, Dash- those your legal names? You're probably our best bet if so unless your last names are Smith,"

Sawyer Sawyer raised his hand, still kicking a rock around. "I got a criminal record."

Warren For once, this conversation got interesting to him. He turned to Sawyer. "That's sexy. For what?"

Sebastian Sebastian turned to Sawyer suddenly at the revelation, "What the fuck?" perhaps it was the suddenness of the statement or perhaps it was the fact itself but either way, it had surprised Sebastian in that moment. "Okay, you're out, nobody's coming for you," he decided, as if a criminal record immediately made Sawyer disposable, regardless of what it was for. "Shut up, Von Trapp, now is not the time," he spat at Warren a moment later, "Names, who has a good one," he reminded the group.

Blue blue was ready to responde but hearing sebastian's full name caught him off guard. "word? ok. blue barrowcliffe. legal name." he offered an understanding look to sawyer, not based on shared experience but moreso on wanting sawyer to feel alright. unless he murdered someone.

Sawyer "Hotwirin' a 1500," he replied, winking and clicking his tongue. "Meanin'~" Sawyer spun around on his foot. "They can legally look me up in state records. You got state records in your name, Claude?"

Liam liam's eyes widened when sawyer say that out of nowhere. of course that annoyed sebastian and the two went at each other. liam just looked down at his feet and mumbled to himself, "i do." not that anyone asked him. but he just hated how heated everything was getting and wasn't really thinking.

Sebastian Sebastian did not, for a second like being referred to by his middle name, especially not with such a facetious fucking tone from Deliverance. "Yeah, cowboy, I got a birth certificate, a social security number, enrollment in school, my car is registered, I've got medical records- do you want me to continue, genius?" he asked bitterly before Liam piped up. "You do what, bro? If you've got something to say, use your words,"

Lukas " It's a radio thing, dude, " Lukas said, mainly just to be contrary to Sebastian but he was also fairly certain he was right. He snorted a laugh when Sebastian revealed his middle name, but didn't risk saying anything about it. The snort was enough to let Gigantor know that it sounded fucking stupid. Looking to Sawyer when he revealed his criminal record, he didn't think now was the time to bring up his own. And plus, high school drug dealing didn't really compare to auto theft. But, it was still a good idea. " Yo, that's smart. " He complimented, though Liam's confession was far more surprising. Unlike Sebastian he could put together context clues. " A criminal record? Does it beat auto theft? " He asked, not really able to imagine short king doing anything besides maybe some smoking. " I'm thinking it's between Big Blue and GTA right now, " no one cares what you're thinking, Lukas.

Liam he looked up when sebastian addressed him, not realizing anyone heard him. "nothing," he said quietly, deciding to stay quiet for the rest of the time.

Callum "Okay, so... fuck." He shook his head, keeping up with that entire exchange made his brain feel like mush. "We'll use Blue's name, mention how many of us are here and... shit,  really does no one remember the plane number?"

Blue blues proximity allowed him another front row view to liam’s emotions and he gave him a soft pat on the back. while he hadn’t wanted to rock claude’s boat, he felt protective to the guys he was so critical of. "hey, we're getting sidetracked. let’s agree on a message and get home. I domt know the plane number or the pilot’s name.....what fucking company even set this retreat up?"

Liam "no, it does," he said to lukas when he asked, feeling like he was just wasting everyone's time anytime he spoke. he glanced over to blue and gave him a small smile when he tried to comfort him. "it was the twilight of adam," he remembers because his lawyer kept repeating it to the judge as if it was some church thing to rehabilitate him.

Warren Warren was never one for idle moments. He was the type of person who hated being still for too long. Nothing bored him like conversations that seemed to go nowhere. He was a person of action. The only way he could tolerate another minute of these boys not recalling information and sharing their gay middle names was if he was drunk, and unfortunately, there was not a drop of Dom Perignon Brut in him. He sighed. "Okay, you know what–" He had a lot of energy saved up from being carried up here. He could do this. He hopped over and snatched the radio out of Callum's hands, making quick work of getting away by prancing over to the ledge where he knew everyone would be careful around him. He turned the radio on. "Mayday, mayday, 911, this is Blue Cliffebarrel, I'm on an unknown island with 15 other boys and one of us have a criminal record, over."

Lukas Maybe they all should have expected Warren to be the one to cause trouble, but it certainly surprised Lukas when he made a grab for the radio, succeeded, and then hobbled away to the edge of the cliff before anyone could do anything about it. " What the fuck, " he reacted, more statement than question but it quickly got more heated when the cripple started talking " Dude! " He raced over, though Warren's plan worked and he slowed down when he got close to the edge. " Did you not hear any of that shit about the battery? " He snatched the walkie out of his hands, feeling a lot better now he had it rather than Warren or either of the Hulk impersonators. " And none of that even made any fucking sense, if anyone heard that they're just gonna think we're some idiot kids fucking around. " He said irritably, turning the thing back off. Too be fair, they were some idiot kids but he thought they were trying their best not to fuck around.

Sebastian  Sebastian's patience had been wearing thing, needless to say. Not that it had been particularly in tact even before the other boys had started squawking at each other. When Warren snatched the radio, however, regardless of his precarious position, Sebastian launched. "Are you fucking kidding me? Do you want to fucking die today? You said nothing- nothing of any value and nobody understands your goddamn hurdy durdy bullshit anyway," his was easily the most offensive of all the accents on the island in Sebastian's firm opinion. He couldn't believe he was in agreement with Jorts but for the first and perhaps the last time, Jorts was right, this was not the time to fuck around and he was glad the radio was turned off again. "Thank you" he offered the smaller boy genuinely, slightly relieved that the radio was seemingly in the hands of somebody that was taking this shit seriously now.

Warren "I said everything you all were talking about," Warren launched into his own defense as the walkie was snatched away from him. " Did I miss anything?" He asked the group, not waiting around for their answers. "I didn't miss a beat!" And then of course, Sebastian had to go off on him because if he didn't go off on someone every hour, his penis would shrink in size and that clearly couldn't happen. "Oh fuck off, Claude. Je m'en fous, frère. Coller l'antenne dans ton cul! Vous vous sentirez mieux."

Sawyer Right. Sawyer didn't speak French, but those sounded enough like fighting words for him to step between Claudia and the angry little Swedish man, putting a sizable distance between them. "Yeah, alright, oui oui. Last thing we need is to start fightin' with each other, so let's just...re-calibrate. Curly can take it from here, yeah?"

Sebastian Sebastian squared his shoulders at Warren's squealing, "Yeah you missed the part where you did anything fucking useful- Barrel-cliff, are you fucking kidding me?" he had registered it the first time but reminded of the mistake, he fired up all over again. Then came yet another Claude jab, "Call me Claude one more fucking time, I dare you, I'll hit you so goddamn hard you'll have to learn to speak French without teeth," he warned, whether Warren was on the cliff or not didn't matter much to Sebastian when his patience was being tested. He inhaled sharply at Sawyer's advice and nodded his head, "Yeah," he agreed, cracking the knuckles of one hand in his palm, "Back to square one,"

Lukas Ask him an hour ago if Lukas ever thought him and Sebastian would be on the same side of an argument Lukas would have made a fart noise in response. But now look at them, Lukas was having to hold back another Claude comment after he was thanked. Hyper aware of the cliff edge seeing as Claude was basically shaking Warren over it he took a few steps back towards the group and the fire. " Yeah, " He confirmed, looking up when Sawyer spoke. He actually didn't want this responsibility but he did not trust any of these idiots with it, not even the idiots he liked, so it had to fall to him. " So, " he started, running over all the suggestions from before Warren's interjection in his head. " Mayday, flight number, Twilight of Adam. How many of us there are, and a name they can look up easily. " He listed the things off, counting them on his fingers and conveniently leaving out the ones he thought were dumb. " That it? " He asked the group, letting it sit for a beat before he brought up the point Callum had just before. " Does anyone have any idea of the flight number? " Because he sure as fuck didn't.

JJ with all the bickering in the air, Jacob got lost in thought trying to figure out if the geographical landmarks of the island could tell him any more of their current location. Other than tropical and approaching rain season, he didn’t seem to notice much else. It wasn’t until Lukas had presented the questions again that his mind was pulled back to reality. “Private hire Boeing 12596...” he replied calmly. “Fifteen survivors. Heading through South-West links. Jacob Sanders, that’s my name. Plane crashed roughly two hours and fourty minutes from the expected arrival time to Hawaii. If the pilot flew the right route, they should be able to find us.” He said all he had to say and left the others to decide what to do with it. Of course, he felt he knew a better way to do so but did not want to be met with Sebastians anger issues, Warrents utter imbecility or anyone else’s need for explanations.

Sebastian Sebastian pointed at JJ and clicked his fingers, "That's it- fucking perfect- almost. A few changes- you're gonna say you're Blue Barrowcliffe, Canadian national- and make sure you mention that the plane went down. Private hire Boeing- whatever- down," he corrected, "Don't waste time we don't have," he justified a moment later.

Warren Warren rolled his eyes at all of Sebastian's threats. Hagrid didn't scare him one bit. He made faces behind Stumbo the Giant's back as JJ swooped in to save the day, doing his best to stay standing on his good foot as he listened in. He supposed what JJ said was far better than what he'd come up with. He didn't like how Sebastian seemed to be happy about it. He was going to do something to change that. "Are we sure we don't want to go with Sebastian Claude Sergeant? Because I would cross oceans in seconds just to see what kind of person that gay ass name belongs to."

Sebastian If it wasn't clear that Sebastian had had enough of Warren by now, the look on his face after his most recent comment would surely make it clear, even to NASA. He spun around to face the male and wrapped his hand around his neck firmly, "Good idea, I'll throw you across the fucking ocean to show you what kind of person I am," he suggested savagely, tugging ruthlessly at the other boy's throat as he got in close to his face.

Warren "Not really my kink but choking is close. Do it harder," Warren gasped out, grinning like an idiot as his face grew red.

Sawyer Their brief moment of triumph was quickly overshadowed by Sebastian’s short temper, and none of them were currently in the position to weather that storm. Sawyer acted on reflex, reaching out to grip Sebastian’s shoulder in a feeble attempt to pull him away from Warren and the edge of the cliff they were standing on. “Woah woah, hey - fuck, man, enough, you’re gonna kill him!”

Lukas Thank God JJ had enough braincells to make up for the rest of this sorry gang of misfits. Lukas felt a wave of relief wash over him as JJ was able to answer all the questions he had and without being an absolute moron about it. " Boeing 12596, heading through South-West links, " he repeated those details, nodding as he tried to commit them to memory. But on top of that, JJ had been calm about most things so far, approaching everything with reason, so it made Lukas think he'd be the least likely to stumble under pressure. Plus, JJ was probably the only person besides himself that he didn't need to watch like a hawk with the radio. " Alright, do you wann– " he starts to offer the radio, but before he can finish Gigantor and the Nordic cripple were having at it. " What the fuck, " he uttered for the third time in about five minutes, looking over at the interaction but with the radio still in hand he made no move to get between them like Sawyer did. Even in the weird circumstances an abrupt laugh escaped him at Warren's gasped comment. Then he looked to Callum, probably one of the only guys in the group that had any chance of taking on Sebastian. " You wanna fucking get control of your buddy there? " He raised his brows and tilted head towards the situation aka Warren getting murked and liking it.

Sebastian Sebastian stumbled back with hands on his shoulders but he didn't take Sawyer's words as a warning, "Then I'd be doing everybody a goddamn favor," he shot back, it didn't seem like a bad thing if the loudmouth European took a plunge off the edge of this conveniently placed cliff if it meant he didn't take any more shots at fucking up their plans for survival...or call him Claude again. He shrugged Sawyer's grip off of him but it didn't do much to ease his hostility toward Warren who was pressing just about every button Sebastian had at this point.

Callum Callum was fixated on the radio. He just wanted everyone to shut the fuck up so JJ could turn that thing on and spout all the information they took forever to agree on already. But then Warren. The fucking invalid idiot just couldn't keep his mouth shut. He sighed, moving away from JJ to assist Sawyer in deescalating the situation. "Yo, hey, Sebastian-" His concern for the situation grew when the Hick was shrugged off and the pressure around Warren's neck didn't ease. "Hey! C'mon!" He grabbed onto Sebastian's shoulders and pulled, hoping a more aggressive approach would make a difference.

Warren Warren was suffering. But he was also: thriving. Seeing the anger on Sebastian's face brought him joy like you would not believe. It was the only fun he's had on this island so far. "Is this all you got, Claude? Did Daddy not show you how it's done? You have to do it like this-" His hands left their position over Sebastian's, moving to grip Claude's neck with his own fingers.

Sebastian It was the name, it was the mention of his father, it was the shit-eating grin on Warren's face. Sebastian was immediately seeing red again and no amount of 'hey come on's from any of the other boys was enough for him to simmer down. "You wanna lose this fucking hand?" he asked, gripping onto the other boy's wrist still with Warren's  hand wrapped around, "Try it, I fucking dare you, see what happens,"

JJ He was mildly amused by the situation at hand. He found Sebastian’s irrational anger to Warrens imbecilic digs to be a waste of time and energy. Perhaps neither of them were aware just how important energy was in situations such as these, where the distance between them and their next meal was unknown and so was the distance between them and the rescue. Trying to speed the situation up, he’ll take the radio over from Lukas and move aside from the dick measuring contest. He adjusts the antenna until he can hear out the clear static. “Mayday, mayday” he will repeat, hoping the channel would pass through their call for help. “Maybe we could..” he skips through different channels, trying his best to find something intelligible, in any language. “We should get higher.”

Radio "92.1–" Static noises.

Lukas Unlike JJ, even preoccupied by the radio, Lukas was growing increasingly concerned about the whole Warren and Sebastian situation. Maybe if they weren't so close to a cliff, he wouldn't be so concerned– but then again Dash's words about Sebastian being their very own General Zaroff came to mind. His attention snapped back to JJ and the radio when the radio seemed to spurt something out, though it was hard to hear. " Did that just say something? " He asked looking back up at JJ, maybe he'd watched Ghost Adventures too many fucking times and was just making himself hear shit in the static. He nodded in agreement at the idea of getting higher, their makeshift antenna needed all the help it could get. Though, he couldn't leave without saying anything. " You think they're good? Like Sawyer and Callum probably have it handled, right? " He asked, glancing to the group by the cliff and then back to JJ, once again asking him for some reassurance that they weren't all gonna die here.

Sawyer Sawyer’s gaze flickered between the two groups of boys, spine stiffening as the radio whirred and crackled to life. That was it—that light at the end of the tunnel they were all so desperately chasing after. It was too fucking close for them to turn their backs on it now. He shot an urgent look at Callum, tilting his head toward Sebastian as if to say, fucking pull him off.

JJ With Lukas' attention dancing between the radio and the bikini contest, JJ focused entirely on quickly securing the antenna further using the string coming off his sleeve. As the static started coming through he could feel his body buzz with surprise and he'll press the button to the right. "Mayday, Mayday, Boeing 12596 coming through, do you copy?" he releases the button to allow the other side to process and continues to walk further up the hill, unsure if the change of location was actually helping the process or if they would have had a better chance sticking to the coast. "Come on..." he says, turning towards the group. "We might have something."

Callum The radio! It was obvious to anyone what Callum cared about more. Honestly, would it be the worst thing if Sebastian crushed Warren's windpipes? They could use all the quiet they could get to hear that thing. "Sebastian, come on, quit it-" He hooked an arm over Sebastian and leaned back, hoping his weight and the force would successfully separate the two. "Yo, Texas! A hand!"

Warren Warren has never been so close to death before. And he's taken a dangerous cocktail of party favors with nothing but a shot of absinth in his stomach once before. "Come on, Daddy Claude! Harder! Show me how you do it back home!" He laughed maniacally.

Sebastian That was the last straw, or maybe it was the laugh, or maybe Sebastian was just over tired but he wasn't fucking around anymore and without a moment more of hesitation he threw his weight into a punch that connected seamlessly with the other boy's face.

Sawyer “Jesus Christ,” Sawyer muttered beneath his breath; the first time he’d ever considered calling for God to help them escape from this apocalyptic hellhole. He hadn’t been quick enough to grab Sebastian’s arm before it reeled back, releasing with a sharp punch that caused a crack so loud it sent chills down Sawyer’s spine. He did, however, have the sense to grab Warren’s arm and yank him forward—at least enough to keep him from plummeting to his early death. “Alright, we need to cool it. Now.”

Lukas Okay, so, JJ's non-response didn't fucking settle Lukas' nerves at all. So instead he simply had to focus on the radio, the yelling all getting a little too fucking real for him real quickly. When he suggested moving, Lukas followed, though not without casting a glance over his shoulder to catch the argument getting more and more heated by the second. When a fist connected with Warren's face, Lukas was shocked. Not that Sebastian had hit someone, that was fairly predictable, but just at the whole fucking situation. " Yo, we gotta fucking get to someone before Gigantor fucking kills him. " He said, not bothering to hide the growing panic, turning back to JJ and continuing to follow him further up the hill. Using the ideal of not witnessing a death on top of all the trauma of surviving a plane crash to focus him on helping with the radio.

JJ He would have continued walking as he was and expecting everyone to fall in line. Once again, as per usual, he was let down by the sheer lack of ability some humans possessed to prioritise. Looking over his shoulder, he witnesses the argument, teasing and pinning had now gotten much too real and he'll stop in his tracks, passing the radio over to Lukas before heading back for the group. For the first time, he will approach Sebastian directly. His voice remains calm, almost quiet. "If you walk front of the line, you won't be able to hear the next thing coming out his mouth. Come on, radio is buzzing." he'll give Warren a look filled with pity, uncontrollably so and with the same tone he'll not even bother to check if the others head was still in place. "You walk the back of the line. Your leg is fucked enough." with a sigh, he'll look over at everyone else. "Everyone good? Can we keep moving?" they still had to reach the peak and walk all the way back before the sun sets. Otherwise, they might have just made a fatal mistake.

Warren Warren spat, a spatter of red and enamel on the ground when he did so. "Fuck..." Coughing, he gripped onto Sawyer to stay standing. He accidentally put weight on his bad foot in the middle of the chaos he'd started, so in addition to his mouth throbbing from the impact of Sebastian's fist, his leg now twinged with pain too. "He started it..." Warren had the audacity to say, holding onto to Sawyer a little tighter in anticipation for how Sebastian would react to that.

Sebastian Sebastian looked at the male with pure and utter disdain at how pathetic he looked and sounded. "-and I'll finish it too, don't think I won't," he barked in response, more than happy to give him another smack to even out the bruising on each side.

Callum Callum clapped a hand over Sebastian's shoulder. "Stop. C'mon, man." He was tired. He just wanted to get to the fucking peak like JJ said and try to reach out to someone. This shit, whatever was going on between Sebastian and Warren, it was a pointless waste of time.

Sawyer Normally, Sawyer liked to think of himself as the one with his head screwed on (somewhat) straight in times of disarray, but the calm coldness of JJ’s voice as he addressed the other boys was eerie—even to him. He stumbled a little as Warren shifted his weight into Sawyer’s side, looking down to see splatters of blood painted across his own white undershirt. Shit. He’d just bought this one for the trip, too. “Yeah, nah, JJ’s right. We’re done with all...this.”

Lukas The next couple seconds happen way too fast for Lukas to process in the moment. One second, he'd handed off the radio duty to JJ and the next JJ was successfully pulling the two that were fighting (if you could call what Warren was doing fighting back,) apart and seemingly ending the commotion. He was paused on the hill, watching it all unfold, but after a second another unintentional chuckle tumbled from his lips. " Are y'all done? " He called out to the group by the cliff, amusement on his tongue and shit eating grin back on his features as if he hadn't been scared shitless moments ago. " 'Cause we actually got fucking signal on this mother fucker, " He said enthusiastically, holding up the walkie in celebratory manner. A small and probably shit attempt to stop another fight from breaking out any second.

Sebastian Sebastian raised his hands, though there was a self-satisfied smugness coloring his features that made it obvious that he was pretty pleased with himself, despite the blood shed- or perhaps because of it. "I'm done," he announced plainly, happy for all things to be said and done as long as Warren didn't dare open his fat mouth again, at least for another half an hour or so. He wiped his hand on his shorts, whether it was spit or blood he didn't know, nor did he care, "So we're high enough to get a signal, now we need to find a better channel, right- is that what we're saying?"

Lukas Okay was it just Lukas or were he and Sebastian actually getting along? Nothing brings people together like almost murdering and almost witnessing murder. " Pretty much, " Lukas confirmed, though it was mainly just an assumption. His radio knowledge was still relatively basic, even after rebuilding this one with JJ. " We're gonna go a little higher, see if it can get any clearer. 'Cause while you guys were jacking each other off or whatever, " he had to make a joke, even dismissively, he couldn't actually acknowledge what he had just witnessed " I swear to God, this thing said something. " He insisted, though he hadn't actually caught what it had said in the moment.  " So let's go, " he said, turning on his heel and returning to the mission of getting a bit higher before anyone could get back to the murder.

Sawyer The snort that escaped Sawyer after Curly’s little dig was entirely involuntary, but also entirely deserved. He was just glad he didn’t have to be an accessory to murder today—that’d be a hard one to explain to his parole officer when he got home. With a final, mournful sigh for his dirtied, bloodied shirt, he chucked the thing off over his head and handed it to Warren. “For the bleeding, Bateman.” Sawyer clapped his hands together. “Now let’s get the fuck outta here.”

Warren "Thank you, Yeehaw." His lips pushed into whatever form of a smile he could manage. Warren bunched up the shirt and pressed it to his mouth, giving Sebastian a nasty glance as he did so.

Callum "Alright." Callum clapped his hands together, glad JJ was able to settle the commotion. "Let's fucking do this." He was more than ready to put this dumb shit behind them for the sake of accomplishing what they actually came to do today. He jogged up to Jort's side, wanting to be up close to the action in case the thing crackled to life again.

Lukas As the group continued up the hill, Lukas returned his attention to the radio. Turning it back on, he adjusts the antenna until he's satisfied with the static settling and speaks into the machine. " Mayday, mayday. This is Blue Barrowcliffe, one of fifteen survivors of flight Boeing 12596. Do you copy? " It felt completely silly to say he was Blue, the Canadian that looked literally nothing like his scrawny New Jerseyan self, but aside from JJ he didn't know if he could trust any of these guys with the radio. " I repeat, fifteen survivors of flight Boeing 12596, " he said the numbers slowly and clearly, if someone heard them the numbers would be their saving grace. " Do you copy? "

Sebastian Sebastian could hardly fucking believe that Jorts had actually managed to stick to the script, he'd nailed it. "Canadian- say you're Canadian," he reminded Lukas, waving his hand a little with encouragement as he listened carefully to the static on the other end of the radio device, praying that words in any language came from it- even one of the languages Von Trapp spoke would do. "Keep going," he insisted, his heart in his throat as he awaited a response from somebody with the potential to save their sorry asses.

Radio Lengthy static noises. "Ha-" Static noises. "Gehen-" Static noises. "Liest du-" Static noises. "-nächsten hafen." Static.

Sawyer The excitement was palpable now, eyes lighting up and heads perking with hope. Sawyer grasped the shoulder of the boy nearest to him and shook it, laughing. “Fuckin’ A, we got a fuckin’ German!”

Liam liam stood off to the side as everything went down. his hand flying up to over his own mouth as he watched the altercation between sebastian and warren, but the last thing he was going to do was step in between them and end up in the same position because sebastian redirects his rage to him. but finally lukas can get a message out. static and a few broken words that he couldn’t understand, heart sinking when sawyer announces that it’s a german. “does anyone know german?” he asks, looking around at the others.

Blue blue hadnt said much during the saga, other than an extremely confused "why the hell did i have to carry him" when warren zoomed into chaos at a speed blue's exhausted mind and body couldnt keep up to. he sat away from the drama, and while he would normally intervene to save morale but his body seemed glued to ground. hearing his name echoed by the others tothe radio, he imagined his parents and his sister, and a lump in his throat had to be swallowed down, tears avoided for now. as the confrontation got more violent, blue rested his head between his knees, fighting sleep or panic, the yelling and tension a little too intense of a reminder of...her. he resumed his role helping the injured, though more resentkful of helping mr instigator. "warren......youre swiss, eh? dont your people speak like swiss french and german? what'd they say, man?"

Lukas Lukas is about to tell Sebastian that he doesn't even sound Canadian, not even a little bit, and that saying he was would be kind of fucking stupid when the radio spattered to life in his hands. He looked down at it, amazed. After half a second of awe at his own handiwork he tried moving the antenna and pushed himself to move up the hill faster to help get rid of the static. Sawyer picked up on the language before he did and he glanced over his shoulder at the rest of the group. He sort of had his toes crossed for JJ to come through again, even if his behaviour was a little unsettling– but then Blue addressed the European. And while he was probably their best chance, Lukas wasn't feeling especially eager to let him have the radio again. " Anyone else? " He asked, looking around the group and avoiding the now toothless Nordic cripple. " Don't need to be fluent, just enough to say we need help. "

Dash Dash watched the entire shitshow with varying degrees of amusement and disturbance. Initially he didn’t see much point in following everyone up the hill, like, logically speaking, mostly because didn’t know jack about radios or distress signals or even their flight number. But he did want to be there if they made contact with anyone. So he ambled up near the back of the line, and spent the first few minutes of the hike looking at a cloud in the shape of Marge Simpson’s head, glad that Lukas and JJ seemed to have things covered on the radio front. Douchebag Callum was there too or whatever, he guessed, and Sebastian came through, even if he took his roid rage to the max and punched Eurotrash in the mug over a couple gay jokes. Dash’s lip curled at the blood spat out on the ground. He didn’t really vibe with all the sadistic shit, and he’d take bets that the little guy had half a chub through the whole thing. “Nein, bro,” Dash shook his head. He had maybe a handful of phrases in Spanish and Tagalog in his repertoire at max. And if any anxious fact stuck with him, it was that the battery was on its last legs, so he glanced toward JJ in hopes he could step in ASAP.  He reminded Dash of a guy he went to elementary school with who learned those wack languages from Lord of the Rings for fun and hid under desks to hiss at people as they walked by. Surely he knew some German. “American public schools kinda fell off with the whole foreign language thing.”

JJ As the radio went on, he tried his best to decipher what was being said. His German was rusty at best, mostly based on old philosophical texts he picked up at college. Extending his hand to get the radio back, he’ll rub the top of his brow as he recalls the words. “Hilfe, Hilfe! D-das ist Jacob Sanders. Fünfzehn Menschen am Leben. Privatflugzeug Boeing 12596 kaputt. Wir brauchen hilfe.” He knew the German was butchered, but he believed he’d said the most important things in the process. “Hallo? Kopierst du?” He’ll shift the radio around, trying his best to get the signal.

Warren Warren was tired. His mouth hurt. On top of losing a tooth, one other in his mouth felt loose and he hated it. He didn't really care that they'd made it to the peak, leaving the business of getting into contact with help to whoever had a hard-on for talking to strangers in the group – Mister Moley Man and the smart one. They seemed to have it figured out and he really needed to pee. Besides, with the space at the peak much smaller than where they were before and everyone so excited about it, he felt as though he'd be caught up through overhearing while he tried to take a piss where he was at the back of the group. He was halfway done with his leak when he heard German, making him turn on instinct and accidentally getting piss on shoes. "Agh, nein–" Two quick shakes and he pulled his track pants back up, hopping over to the front. With his bad leg, he had to touch some shoulders on the way so he wouldn't fall over. What the boys didn't know wouldn't hurt them. "Du sprichst Deutsch?" He asked the smart one as he hobbled up. Schlecht, but he left that in his head. Stretching out his hand, he opened and closed his fist a couple of times, asking for the device.

Sawyer Sawyer held up a finger and thumb. "S'German, actually."

Sebastian Sebastian rolled his eyes at the budding discourse, "Which is the same thing- moving on. What did they say?" he gathered the gist of what JJ had relayed back, he's a lesbian, the private flight number, uh whatever else- it didn't matter, Sebastian was pretty sure he'd pretty much stuck to the script. "Does that mean we're near Germany or a country that speaks German? What countries outside of Germany speak German?" he couldn't think of a single one that wasn't landlocked or anything but tropical- no freakin' way they were near Western Europe.

Sawyer Sawyer just looked at him like he felt even worse for him than he did when they found out his middle name was Claude. "Dude."

Dash Dash pressed his tongue against the inside of his cheek to fight back a fleeting grin at Sawyer’s emphatic dude. “I dunno dick about who’s speaking German other than the Krauts, but could be a passing ship, right? Maybe we’re in international waters or some shit.”

JJ He looks at Warren and his eyes wonder for a moment if the other is genuinely fluent or just proceeding to be a more persistent human equivalent of hpv. “I speak limited amount.” he answers honestly as Sebastian proceeds to throw in a question which would by all metrics be considered dumb if it wasn’t somewhat valid. Before he can answer, Dash adds to it a more plausible explanation and he’ll nod. “German speaking countries are Germany, Austria, Belgium and Luxembourg. German is also an official language in Switzerland and Liechtenstein, but it sounds different. It is highly unlikely we’re close to any of those...” his eyes now on Dash. “It may very well be the case. Any other ideas?”

Liam watched as everyone silently as they freaked out over who may or may not speak german. his anxiety rising with each moment as their chances of rescue started to lessen the more they used up the battery of the radio. he stayed away from the group, off to the side and pulled out his tech deck out of his pocket and started spinning one of the wheels anxiously to try and calm himself down.

Sawyer "Maybe," Sawyer said, leaning in close to the other boys like he was about to tell a secret, "the operator's just bilingual."

Warren "I live in Switzerland, I speak German," he told JJ. To emphasize his point, he stretched out his hand more blatantly. "Give it to me. Or do you want to stay on this island forever?"

JJ Instinctively JJ will look over at Lukas as if to get some type of blessing or permission to pass the radio to the village idiot. Still, he didn’t have any real ownership of the thing so he stretched his hand out, anxiety rising. He was almost certain the other would either send off a message too ridiculous for the other end to decipher or fully throw the thing on the floor just to get his other leg broken and bleed out in the woods. “Go on then. Careful with the antenna...”

Joe Joe's initial relief at hearing a voice on the other side of the radio was dimming as Henry Bowsers but hopefully redeemable starting asking irrelevant questions that made no sense."Pinky's right it's probably a ship. There's no way there's no way there's a hermit nearby that just happens to hack into radio signals." Who the fuck still used radios besides sailors and boy wonder (not that JJ counted he seemed to have swallow an encyclopedia) ? Watching boy wonder hand over the walkietalkie to Warren was an extremely nerve wracking experience."Be careful Warren."

Lukas With only a couple Hebrew words along with his questionable at best English skills Lukas was mainly sitting this conversation out. If it could be called a conversation, mainly it just felt like a lot of bullshit but what else was new on this island. When Warren revealed he could speak German, and they all kind of knew that because of the song he'd sung on the way up the hill, Lukas had to grimace. It was their best chance, so he gave a small nod to JJ as it was passed over. " Remember, flight Boeing 12596. " Again he said the numbers slowly, fingers and toes crossed old gap tooth wouldnt fuck them all over.

Warren Finally, Warren thought as the radio came into contact with his hand. "Danke, wunderkind." That was so drawn out and dramatic. It's not like he's done anything crazy with the radio before. He hopped over and lifted a hand, swatting it in the group's general direction to settle their apparent nerves. Then he pressed the transmit button spoke. "Ja hallo? Kannst du mich hören? Wir sind auf einer Insel gestrandet. Wir brauchen deine Hilfe."

Radio Static noises. "kannst du-" Static noises.

Lukas It's like watching a toddler handle a bomb, Lukas is just waiting for it to fuck them all up big time. But somehow, it doesn't. Not yet at least. He doesn't hear anything that sounds like numbers come out of Warren's mouth but he also knew literally no German at all. When the radio responded he raised his brows, as if the two words the voice said could possibly mean anything useful. " What's going on? Do we need to go higher still? " He asked, because he was like 65% certain the voice had been cut off by the static.

Warren For once, Warren was invested. He shook the walkie slightly and held it against his ear. Then he spoke into it again, thumb on the transmit button. "Ja? Hallo? Hallo? Kannst du mich hören?" He hopped forward a little, perhaps needing to get a little higher. "Yeah, I think so," he answered Lukas. It was a shame. They were at the peak already. But the edge had a slight lift so Warren was going to take the chance. "Hallo?" He tried again. He heard some static, some response in German before the walkie went dead suddenly. "Shit." He shook the thing. Perhaps a little too vigorously. "Hallo??" He turned on the foot he was balancing. "I think it– Ahh!" The ground beneath him crumbled. Warren slipped. Quickly, he used grabbed onto whatever of the edge he could, releasing the walkie from his grasp to do. "Help! Help!"

Sebastian Sebastian had his arms folded tightly across his chest to keep them at bay as he listened to the chatted shift from person to person. It seemed as if everybody had something to say but nobody was saying anything useful to the situation. "We might just be in a dead zone, I mean look at this place- who knows where the next tower is," he explained, worried that there wouldn't be another radio tower or any man-made structure for hundreds and hundreds of miles from where they stood. He heard the crumbling rock before he truly registered what had happened and as the walkie hit the ground, Sebastian reacted to try and catch it, though his efforts were thwarted at the last moment, his attention divided by Warren's shrieking. "Fuck, Warren!" the words spilled from his mouth as he stumbled as close to the edge of the cliff as he could without risking another rockfall. "Bro-" he looked back at the other guys over his shoulder, "What the fuck- do something!" he practically squealed.

Lukas When Warren moved past the bulk of the group, so did Lukas. Eyes on that radio. He really did not think he was gonna care so much about it. " Hey! " He reacted when Warren fucking shook the thing, as if it wasn't already fucking precarious. Moving towards him, more to take the radio off him than pull him away from the edge of the cliff– but then the fucking dude took a dive off it. " Holy shit, " Lukas moved quickly when he fell, he thought he cared about the radio but he didn't even notice Warren had dropped it yet. Instead falling to his knees, scraping skin since the alterations he'd made that morning. Leaning over the edge he reached out his hand to Warren, holding onto stable ground as best as he could, but he was still a fraction too far away. " Grab my fucking hand, dude! "

Sawyer "Fuck-" Disaster struck in such quick succession: the radio, the crumbling peak, Warren--Sawyer's heart fell to his stomach with such force, he felt like he was about to shit it out of his asshole. He raced to the edge of the cliff, grabbing onto Lukas's free arm. "Pull him up, I'll anchor you!"

Sebastian Sebastian's breath caught in his lungs at the sight. Ten minutes ago he'd wanted to slay Warren where he stood and now, the thought of the other male plummeting to his death right before him made Sebastian want to throw up. "Grab his arm, grab each other's arms, lock in," he insisted, certain that Jorts' clammy ass hands were going to just help Warren fall to his death quicker than ever. "Fuck it- grab me," he insisted, wiping his hand and arm on his shirt before grabbing Warren's forearm firmly.

JJ All he could think about was the exact impossibility of seeing the radio again and for a second he thought about stepping on Warrens hand to push him off with it. As he paused to think, the others jumped to help, and he offered a hand to yeh guys as they moved into action. The stability of the cliff was unknown at this point and a dangerous place to be placing weight so he tried his best to focus on the situation at hand as opposed to possible catastrophe.

Warren Sebastian? Sebastian wanted to help him? Warren knew now wasn't the time to be picky. Beggars couldn't be choosers after all when their arms were aching and they were hanging off a cliff. He pictured his 8th grade English teacher's cleavage one last time before throwing all caution to the wind and letting go of his grip on the ledge to hold onto to Sebastian's arm for dear life.

Sawyer The harder Sebastian pulled, the more unstable the ground became. Sawyer's pulse rocketed, heartbeat thundering in his ears as earth crumbled from the very edges of the cliff Warren was dangling from. He whipped around to face the rest of the group--all frozen in various stages of shock and panic--eyes wild: "Guys--"

Dash Dash saw it all happen in slow motion. Warren turned on his foot, then plummeted. One second he was there and in the next he was dangling from the edge like some kind of Wiley Coyote bit. Dash stood frozen, panic seizing his chest. In what world was he equipped for this shit? “Are you fucking kidding me?” he asked no one particular, his voice inching up high and reedy with shaky incredulity. He watched as Sebastian, then Lukas, and finally JJ leapt forward to help. “What the cucking shitfuck this is so fucking fucked.” It was Sawyer’s panicky voice that made him take a step forward, half-wondering if he ought to grab a hold of the back of Lukas’ shirt as some kind of useless backup for a second before he finally did it. “Guys — Jesus, the whole thing’s gonna come down.” But what was the alternative? Letting Warren eat shit and die?

Lukas Lukas was willing to admit (to himself) he was fucking grateful Gigantor joined him on the edge of the cliff. Lukas Skinny Arms Tozer was gonna have no hope of pulling Warren up on his own though he actually hadn't thought of that in the moment. He thought he nearly felt his stomach fall out his asshole when Warren made the move to cling to Sebastian's arm. Feeling a tightness on the back of his shirt he took that as a cue to move again, pushing himself back up, on his feet but still crouched by Sebastian and the dangling Swiss. Glancing over his shoulder to see it was Dash that pulled him up, see Lukas knew he got good vibes off that dude. He'd give a proper thanks later but for now he gave an out of breath nod before he looked back to Sebastian. " You got him? " He asked, barely allowing time for an answer before he's looking back to Dash, Sawyer and anyone else that was braving the cliff edge. " Let's pull them up. " He said, trying not to think about the the precarious cliff face everyone was so desperate to point out.

Callum This was all too fucking insane. How was Warren in a near death situation for the second time that day? Not wanting to deal with a dead body on top of trying to survive on a deserted island in the middle of nowhere, Callum dove headfirst into the chaos, grabbing onto Dash to give him support because there was no way this skinny fucker could realistically help Warren, Sebastian and Jorts. "Pull 'em up, pull 'em up!" He urged, mentally preparing himself for the energy he was about to exert.

Dash Dash nodded back once toward Lukas and if his thoughts weren’t too preoccupied with the fact that they were all surely about to plummet to their deaths, he might’ve twisted around and mocked Callum’s deep, booming pUlL ‘eM uP pUlL ‘eM uP to his face. The guy’s hand gripped tightly to Dash’s arm though, pretty effectively making extra sure to keep that petty, poorly timed instinct in check—and probably ensuring that he didn’t full-on Kermit over the edge of the cliff, too. Fuckin’ jocks. Dash gritted his teeth; he didn’t know if it was in his head or not, but the ground felt shaky under his feet. He dug his heels in and used his other hand to grab hold of Lukas’ arm to create some kind of human chain, his breath coming fast and shallow, and did his damned best to keep their skulls intact.

Sebastian Sebastian's heart was in his throat as Warren grabbed onto his arms, his grip pinching the skin though he was far, far too drenched in adrenaline to notice the pain. "Come on, come on," he bellowed, urging the other boys to give it all they had, lest both he and Warren tumble over the edge and into the rocky waters below. At least it would be a quick death, he supposed.

JJ Several things have happened in a span of seconds that JJ could not process. First, Warren hanging off a suspiciously strong cliff. Second, Sebastian of all people putting his ass on the like to save the other. He wasn’t sure if he was dreaming. If maybe all the years of shit sleep had caught up to him and he was now stuck in some hallucination limbo making shit up. Either way, he didn’t say anything, he balanced his weight and pulled onto the guy in front of him and prayed to God and Saints and whoever might have been listening, for this to be over soon. — He was still pissed about the radio, pissed that he’d even passed it to the other, pissed that there was no way now to make his phone work either. Not without the parts he used for the antenna.

Liam liam watched in horror as warren grabbed the radio, babbling into it before eventually stepping off the cliff. in the split second between him falling and everyone snapping into action, liam actually though he had falling to his death. and with most things since the crash, he froze yet again. but a second later, he shoved his toy back into his pocket and ran over to everyone else. which he later realized was a bad idea because pain was shooting up his leg as he grabbed on to one of the other guys to help pull the kid up. thankfully the stress of it all, he was able to ignore his own leg and focus on getting warren back on to solid ground.

Blue everything appeared to blue in flashes, the group heading up the cliff, and the chaos when the cliff crumbled. he watched the other spring into action, and took a deep breath to pump himself up. "Get him! Is he okay" He pulled on whatever body parts or clothes he could to help the others, blue felt the solidarity that he felt with his teammates back home. "Is the radio grabbable?" he was sweating, panting, and the desperation was coursing through everyone it seemed. "Save warren. Get the radio. Save Warren. Get the radio." He chanted to himself, pulling along with the rest of the group. "Save. Warren. Get. The. Radio."

Warren With everyone pitching in to help him, it seemed that Warren would live to see another day. His body was yanked up and onto solid ground again thanks to the efforts of Arsch mit Ohren and the rest of the boys hanging onto him. The second he felt firm rock below him, he wriggled as best he as he could past the boys to further in, wanting desperately to put as much distance between himself and ledge as possible. When he felt it was safe, he dropped to the ground and rolled onto his back to stare at the orange sky above. "Heilige Scheiß..." He was breathless, chest heaving up and down rapidly. Never in his life has he felt such a rush. It was a terrible thing to think about but he wondered how much 'near death experiences' would sell for. Thrill seekers like him would surely pay a hefty price. What Warren really should have been thinking about though was the radio, and how it was no longer in his hand and probably in a million little pieces hundreds of feet below them or lost to the waves of the ocean. He had yet to recall the reality he and the boys were in and how dire it was that they got into contact with someone.

Sawyer Sawyer fell back with the rest of the boys into a sweaty, adrenaline-clouded heap, wincing at the harsh impact of solid rock against his elbow. Nobody dared speak for those first fragile seconds, as though the silence was a crumbling cliff and puncturing it with words would cause it all to come tumbling down. This wasn't a game anymore. The isle was no longer a midpoint in their journey, a pit stop on the way to a boys' retreat in Hawaii; it was a living, breathing thing, with the power to swallow any of them whole at a moment's notice. He rolled to his side, dog tags clinking together as he let out a shaky breath: "the radio...fuck are we gonna do now without the radio?"

JJ He falls back and for a moment he just sits there in silence with the rest of them. He will then get back to his feet, wipe his hands and dust his trousers and look over at Sawyer having considered the exact question throughout the conundrum. “Nothing to do. It’s gone, it’s done.” all they could do now is hope that the Germans or whoever the fuck, heard their message and was on the way. Regardless, the sun began to set so he pointed towards the downhill path. “We should head back before it gets dark...”

Lukas Relief of not having to witness Warren's death washed over him, for the second time that day. But it only lasted a moment. Pulling himself free of the cluster of boys that had pulled him back up off the cliff face, he moved back towards the edge, looking over it in hopes of seeing the walkie on a ledge or something. Perfectly in tact and working a dream, ideally. But nothing. All that fucking hard work, and for fucking nothing. He turns back to the group, eyes landing on the culprit and any relief that he was alive long gone. " You fucking moron, fuck's sake, " If Warren had managed to stand before Lukas turned around, he absolutely would have shoved the bastard. Not over the cliff, but at least back to the ground. Seeing as he was still down, Lukas tried to not let the anger build. JJ, who with each passing moment seemed to be closer and closer to having the emotional complexity of Chucky the fucking Doll, made a good point. They should head back before it gets dark. Seeing as he was already up, he offered his hand to help up the guy closest to him (and who was not Warren).

Blue blue accepted lukas' hand, grateful for any assistance the guys had to give. "thank you." his tone was somber, torn between gratitude for jort's work with the radio, and like the others devastation for what they lost. "im sorry." a reflex more than a habit, a conditioning she taught him. the thought of spending another night was unappealing, and with each hour the fantasy of this being a camping trip was disappearing. he moved towards the front of the group. "alright, we did good. I know this wasnt the outcome we wanted, but their was some macgyver inspector gadget shit that was amazing...and out teamwork pulling a man up. Thats the kind of trust we gotta lean into......carry the injured and lets head back. Warren, when your concussion or whatever gets better, we NEED you to tell us what they said."

Dash Gravity proved itself to be a bitch not once, but twice. Warren luckily managed to get back up from the side of the cliff face, but once the tension of holding tightly and pulling released, Dash fell back and into Paul fuckin’ Bunyan behind him. Even with the air knocked out of lungs, he managed to release a hybrid relieved-slash-disbelieving laugh after a moment's silence when any rescue mission for the radio was declared null and void. Because what the fuck. He hoped his elbow at least got one of Callum’s soft spots as he struggled to his feet, clasping onto Lukas’ hand as soon as he let go of Blue’s. “Well that was a total shitshow.” And like, who knew what the lederhosen-looking dickhead was telling the Fuehrer over the line? The u-boats could’ve been well on their way to haul them to some undisclosed lab by morning. He cracked the knuckles of his right hand, his limbs left a little shaky post-adrenaline rush, and shook his head. With a sharp exhale, he edged away from the sudden drop. His heart racketed just looking where Warren had been clinging on. “Yeah, yeah, down before dark, but what’s the punishment for the high crime of nuking what was probably our one chance at direct communication, man?” In a half-assed attempt at fairness, he tacked on: “I know he didn’t like, spike it on purpose here, but.” Cue: womp womp. “Be real. Are we or are we not totally fucked?”

JJ The corner of his lip lifts slightly as Dash asks what the punishment is for the accidental crime of losing their best chance out of this Island. It’s not that he found it particularly amusing, it’s just that he thought punishment was rather obvious. “The punishment is being stuck here.” He will reply simply. “What impacts one of us - impacts us all.” It’s time we start acting like it, he thinks as he shoots a look towards Warren and Sebastian and then down to his hands. “One fucks up, we all fucked up.” Trying to remain positive he will face Dash and start walking further from the edge of the cliff. “Perhaps whoever’s on the other side has got our message. We’ve only been here for little over a day so it’s also possible the search party separate from the radio is underway. We should stick to the beach for now, keep the fire going...as of right now —“ with the radio gone “it’s the best option.”

[theawkwardundercoverwriter]

Bucky X Reader

Description: Bucky and Y/N in the 40s. If Steve had a younger sister this is how I imagine their lives would be.  (Inspiration and scenes from Captain America: The First Avenger). Not factually accurate. 

Warnings: Abuse, swearing and of course amateur writing. No editing has been done. 

Part One:

No matter how many times you madly readjust your hair the purple blotches only deepen above your eye. 

“No no please.” You murmur to yourself. The overwhelming sense of panic runs down your spine as you note the time on the wooden grandfather clock that sits almost mockingly above the fireplace. Steve would be home anytime now most likely with Bucky in tow. Ever since your parents died both Steve and Bucky have gone the extra mile to look after you. Both held a protective gaze over you at all times. If either of them saw you in this current state they would flip. 

You grab your powder, smothering it above your eye causing you to wince - mostly in frustration that the welts couldn’t be covered to the extent you want them to be. 

You feel completely stupid as you evaluate the damage left on your body. You had a cut on your forearm that was still bleeding. A trickle of blood is currently seeping through your dress sleeve. The new shoes that Steve somehow managed to buy for your birthday are scuffed, and the bow of your hat remains detached, lying on the floor.  You had gotten into a fight with your boyfriend, Eric. You’ve been courting him for only a couple of months, but his nasty side becomes increasingly evident as each day passes. He’d enlisted for the army, he, of course, had the extra pressure of serving his country as his father was the mayor of Brooklyn, Fiorello H. La Guardia.  He had to go and fight in the war; his drafting day inches closer and closer which means his explosive nature heightens. The fight you two had was over Bucky. He as usual accused you of having feelings for your brother’s best friend. You didn’t try to deny it, because deep down, you both knew it was true. Bucky’s smile had the power to mend any ache. He is your rock, especially when your mom died. You wouldn’t know where you would be without him. He knew all your secrets, all your fears and how to make you laugh like no one else. No man could ever make you feel the way he did. Watching Bucky go on countless dates broke your heart, it nearly tears you apart at the near mention of another woman. But you ignore the dull ache in your chest; instead of pining over your brother’s best friend you alter your attention elsewhere. You decided that you didn’t want to be heartbroken by this beautiful man anymore so instead, you came up with a plan. Erica was the answer to get over Bucky. 

He beats you. He yells at you. But you still stay. You figure you aren’t exactly innocent when it comes to Eric and his drama. You are and have been using him, maybe not on purpose, but if you were being honest with yourself, he’s a distraction. It made you a guilty party in this mess.  So you stayed and remained silent. If anyone found out the mayor's son was hitting his lady, there would be a huge scandal. Your reputation would be damaged and Steve would run off and get himself killed if he and Eric ever came face to face. 

Rushing around the room you quickly change into another dress, discarding the stained one into a ball at the bottom of the closet.  You fumble in the kitchen cabinet looking for bandages. The number of times you’ve had to fish them out of the draw for Steve when he came home beaten and bloody has gotten you familiar with first aid. 

Two familiar voices irrupt in laughter from outside the walls of your home. “Crap.” You hiss as your fingers fumble with the bandage. 

“Ah, I can’t find my key.” Steve huffs from outside the door. Tying the bandage up and pulling your sleeve down you take a deep breath attempting to calm yourself. 

“Seriously man? Again?” Bucky laughs. You hear some movement and scuffling outside. You assume it’s Buck grabbing the spare key from underneath the loose brick just outside the apartment. A few seconds later the key jingles in the keyhole and the door swings open. 

“Hey Stevie, did you manage to get some bread while you were out?” You call walking towards both men pretending that it was any other normal day. 

“Sorry Y/N, I got caught up. I’ll get us some tomorrow.” He shoots you an apologetic smile. You walk towards them ready to give him an ear full when something stops you dead in your tracks. 

Bucky stands proud and tall in his army uniform. Gold flakes dance in his blue eyes as he drinks in your appearance. 

“You’ve got your orders?” You nearly choke out. 

“Yeah, first thing tomorrow.” You swallow the thick lump that’s formed in your throat. “Y/N, don’t look so sad.” He gently coos. Bucky pulls you into his side, gently rubbing his fingers up and down your arm in an attempt to comfort you, but it does nothing to soothe your aching heart. You dreaded this very day. His hand continues to trace soft patterns as he senses your unease but he soon hesitates. His hand hovers over the bandage hiding under your sleeve. Your eyes interlock and immediately a rush of panic overloads your body as he starts to notice the messy hair, the overdone makeup and the bandages sprawled out in the kitchen. You can see his mind working overtime, putting all the pieces together. His eyes burn into your soul and for a second you are convinced he can see right through you. Quickly pulling your hand away you turn your attention to Steve. Examing his appearance you notice the bruises on his face. They were nearly identical to yours. 

“Seriously Steven? Again?” You huff, “You got into another fight? Who was it with this time?” You begin to fuss over him but he swats your hands away, not allowing you to fully inspect his wounds. 

“Y/N I’m fine.” He wines. 

“Honestly is it too much to ask to just walk away?” You can feel Bucky’s eyes scanning your appearance but you ignore him. 

“Are you going out tonight Doll?” Bucky quizzes. 

“Yeah what’s with the clown makeup, you don’t need it Y/N, you’re beautiful, just like mom,”  Steve interjects. “ And I promise I will be careful next time.” He says while planting a soft kiss on your cheek. “You don’t need to worry about me.” 

You roll your eyes; you’ve heard that before. 

“I haven’t made dinner because I’m going to the Stark Expo.” You answer Bucky while staring at your bare feet.  

“Oh so are we, I just need to get cleaned up.” Steve groans, “Double dates are never fun, but here I am, getting pressured into this situation, again.” He walks into the cupboard retrieving a new tie without any bloodstains leaving you and Bucky alone. 

You silently plead for Steve to come back. 

“Who are you going with?” Bucky asks. He steps closer to you, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.  You can feel his warmth radiating against your skin. You ignore the shivers he sends up your spin and silently curse at Bucky as butterflies explore in your stomach. 

“With Eric.” You reply, trying to will yourself out of Bucky’s grasp. 

“Is that who did this to you?” He replies softly in your ear but you notice his jaw tighten. You pull away, scrambling to find your shoes and purse. 

“I’m running late, I have to leave now. Eric is probably wondering where I am.” You shout loud enough for Steve to hear from the other room. 

“Wait sis, we will walk you. I’ll just be a minute.” Steve calls out to you.

“You can tell me, doll. I promise I won’t get Steve involved.” He pleads, searching your eyes for the truth. 

“I will see you later tonight. Don’t leave without saying goodbye to me okay?” You ignore him. You reach on your tippy-toes and place a soft gentle kiss on his cheek. 

“I’m all good Steve! Stay at least a mile away from me tonight at all times.”  You yell as you reach for the front door.

“Take care of him tonight.” You instruct Bucky as you fly out the door. It takes every bit of strength to hold in the tears that so desperately want to escape. 

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

Part Two:

The stench of the alcohol burns your tongue as Eric pulls you in for a sloppy kiss. Passer bys shoot you dirty looks as Eric continues to make a show of PDA. 

“I’m sorry about today. I won’t happen again.” He mumbles into his flask. You were currently leaning up against the fence watching the crowd play fun carnival games and dance the night away. 

You’d only been here for an hour, and so far you’d engaged in zero fun. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Bucky,  Steve and two other girls. Steve looks uncomfortable, while the blonde woman looks bored. The brunette is attached to Bucky at the hip. However, Bucky’s glances haven’t gone unnoticed. About half-an-hour ago he spotted you with Eric and has made a conscious effort to stay close ever since. The sight of him in his uniform causes tears to pool in your eyes. There was a chance he was going to die and that very thought made you want to breakdown and scream. 

“Seriously Y/N? You can’t keep your eyes off him can you?” Eric’s voice booms, as he takes another swig of his flask. “You can’t help yourself!” He gets considerably louder causing some heads to turn. 

“Eric I wasn’t-” You start.

“Don’t. Lie. To. Me.” He hisses in a tone so deadly the pit of your stomach drops. 

“Eric it’s not like that.” You begin to explain. Familiar fear creeps in. If you didn’t shut this down now, a very public scene would occur. Eric is twice your size, so any attempt of getting away is slim. He pulls you into his firm grip and tightens each time you squirm. 

“You’re a filthy bitch.” You cry out as he pushes you back into the fence. You stumble back dropping your purse. 

“Hey, that’s my sister!” You hear Steve say as he charges at Eric. You and Steve are pretty much the same in height and weight. There is no way Steve could ever take on your date. In fact, three years ago, Eric beat up your brother in one of the parking lots downtown. Steve’s face was so swollen you could barely recognise him. 

“No Steve, please. Don’t.” You scream but it’s too late. Steve is on the ground groaning in a matter of seconds. Kick after kick you desperately scream at Eric to stop. 

A few seconds pass, hearing a scuffle you blink furiously but your eyes are blinded by tears. The grunting seems to halt suddenly but you can’t seem to stop crying. This is your worst nightmare. The whole of New York, your brother and Bucky have just laid witness to your daily abuse. 

“You’ll pay for that Barnes!” Eric’s voice screams from a distance, but the only thing you can focus on is the loud pounding in your chest. 

“Hey Doll, Shh, I’m here.” A familiar voice whispers in your ear.  Your body is shaking uncontrollably as the shame sets in. Bucky’s hands fly to your face assessing the damage. “Are you hurt?” He asks, but the only reply you can manage is a whimper. “Y/N? Are you hurt?” He scans your body furiously for any injuries. 

“Y/N! What the heck was that?” Steve yells causing you to flinch. Your brother has never yelled at you in your life. “You need to explain this to me right now.” His eyes are filled to the brim with rage and his breathing ragged. You’d never seen him like this.

“Take a walk Steve, you're scaring her,” Bucky instructs as he finishes his examination. 

“No. Buck cmon!” Steve insists. 

“I said take a walk. Come back when you’ve calmed down.” Bucky says which Steve reluctantly follows. “It’s okay man, I’ve got her.” He assures. 

You watch as your brother angrily picks up your purse and stalks in the opposite direction kicking a trash can in anger. 

“Cmon beautiful let's sit down.” Bucky gently commands as he leads you over to the park bench he pulls you into his side protectively. 

“I’ve never seen Steve so mad.” You whisper glancing down at your fingers. 

“He’s just scared Y/N, he feels like he failed you as a big brother.” He sighs, as he scratches his head, “Frankly I feel like I’ve failed you as well.” 

After a moment of silence Bucky speaks up, “Why didn’t you tell us?”

“I didn’t want Steve to get involved. As you just saw he likes to think he can take on the world.” You mumble.

“Okay, I get why you didn’t tell Steve, but why didn’t you tell me.” He gently wipes a tear that’s managed to escape. “I would have handled this for you.”

“I don’t know,” You whisper, wishing you were anywhere other than Bucky’s accusing eyes.

“That’s not good enough Y/N, why didn’t you tell me when I asked today?” He pushes. His jaw tightens and his brows furrow. 

“Because you're leaving Buck.” You finally gain the courage to look him in the eye, “You leave tomorrow, and as soon as you leave I lose the ability to count on you. I’m not stupid. I know Steve is out there, day after day trying to get shipped off into a war zone. He will either get accepted or thrown into jail for lying on the enlistment form, so I can’t rely on him either.” You swallow back the ball of cement that seems to be lodged in your throat. “I thought I could deal with this on my own, ya know, without you because soon enough, it will just be me.” You take a deep breath, “I guess I just wanted to prove to myself I could handle this.” 

“Come here.” Bucky pulls you into a fierce hug and for just a split second all your troubles melt away. 

“I’m always going to find my way back to you Y/N. Always.” He whispers.

“Not if you die in the war.” You whimper. “What if this is the last time I ever see you.” Your heart starts to pound in your ears as horrible thoughts burn in the back of your mind.

“Hey, shh, Doll.” He hushes, “I will come back, even if I have to crawl through barb wire or walk thousands of miles without food or water just to see your pretty face. I will. I will always find my way back to you.” He presses light kisses to your bruises and pulls you in closer.  

“But I need you to promise me something.” He gently grabs your chin so you are both holding eye contact. “I need you to promise me that you won’t ever go back to him or any guy like him okay? Actually on second thought, maybe don’t go near any guy that isn’t me or Steve.” He shoots you a goofy smile and you nod causing him to let out a light chuckle. 

“I’m only half-joking about that last part.” He reassures, he takes a second to think before making his declaration, “When I get back I’m taking you on a real date Y/N, I’m going to show you what true love is.” He looks down at you, adoration shining in his eyes. “I’ll make you forget all about that scum.”

You laugh, loving the sound of that. “You’ll have to tell Steve and then get his approval first.” You joke lacing your hands in his. 

“He knows doll, he’s always known about my feelings for you,” Bucky whispers. For a second it feels like the world just stopped turning.  Your face must mirror the confusion you feel inside because Buck laughs as you try to comprehend the words he so confidently spoke. 

“You better come back to me Barnes.” You whisper as you gently kiss his lightly bruised knuckles from when he saved both you and your brother. 

Bucky was and will remain your hero. 

Apologies for changing the storyline of Bucky & Steve. And a double apology for not editing this but it’s 12am here. 

[moonb-eam]

skater boy au part i

i deleted this by accident!! trying to figure out how to fix it when the “keep reading” function wasn’t working!!

but this was a prompt fill for an anon, for number 40 on the ship starters!

(i saw that video of max riding around the streets of paris on a skateboard and i thought.....interesting.....eliott on a skateboard.....you might say.....he was a skater boy....)

that was where the inspo for this prompt fill came from asdfjk

i hope you like it, anon!!!

no. 40 “Have I entered an alternate universe or did you really just crack a smile at me?”

Lucas has his headphones in, volume high, and he’s sitting on a set of concrete steps, eyes glaring into the back of Yann’s head.

Glaring because Yann is taking forever, even though he was the one who suggested that Lucas meet him at the skatepark before they grabbed lunch. But when Lucas arrived, he’d just waved, and skated away. Now Yann is rolling back on forth on his board, casual as you please, talking like he’s got all day.

And while the June sunshine is warm and pleasant on Lucas’s face, it’s been almost fifteen minutes and Lucas is hungry. He’s about five seconds away from marching over to Yann and forcibly removing him from the park.

Because Lucas is hungry. And he’s bored. It has nothing to do with the fact that Yann is talking to Eliott fucking Demaury.

Lucas watches with narrowed eyes as Yann says something that makes Eliott laugh, ducking his head down towards his chest. He’s wearing a snapback, leaning against his upright board in a way that makes the muscles on his arms stand out. Lucas can’t be sure but it looks like he has a new tattoo. Something that might be music notes. He’s so perfect it physically hurts.

Fuck’s sake.

What is your problem with Eliott, Yann had asked him a few weeks ago. Why do you hate him?

I don’t hate him, Lucas had responded, which was true, despite how Lucas was always insulting Eliott about something, always making fun of him.

It’s not hate. It’s so completely the opposite of that, so far into another galaxy, but Lucas also doesn’t trust him. Someone who is as good-looking, charming, and popular as Eliott Demaury must be an asshole. There must be something up with him, at least some sort of unbearable entitlement that comes from the whole world being in love with you. Lucas sees it all the time; in the way teachers give Eliott homework extensions without any fuss, in the way the cafeteria workers always give Eliott extra noodles at lunch, in the way a legion of fans follow Eliott around the school, sighing at his every step. He gets treated like a fucking prince. 

And Lucas won’t be another face in the sea of Eliott’s admirers. He won’t. He can’t.

So it’s up to Lucas to keep reminding Eliott that, actually, he ain’t shit, because clearly no one else is going to do it. And if Lucas is able to hide himself, hide his eyes and his laugh and his blush and how he can barely control those things around Eliott, then all the better.

It would just be so much easier if Yann wasn’t friends with him.

As if they can hear this thoughts, both Yann and Eliott turn to look at Lucas, Yann grinning in a way that makes Lucas nervous.

What? He mouths, frowning at them.

Yann turns to say something to Eliott, head bent low, and Lucas watches as Eliott’s brow furrows, his fingers tapping at his lips in a nervous gesture Lucas has become all too familiar with.

Not that he’s been looking. Lucas is just observant. Very observant.

Eliott glances back at Lucas. His hand is back at his side, but his eyebrows are still furrowed, eyes so focused they make Lucas shift awkwardly on the spot. He’s never been the centre of Eliott’s attention like this, has never had those infamous eyes so focused on himself. It makes his chest feel too tight for his lungs.

For no reason at all, Lucas flips him off.

Eliott grins, wide and crooked, as sudden and sharp as lightning.

He drops his board back down to the ground, he’s stepping onto it, Yann calls something after him, and Lucas realizes he’s coming over; Eliott is skating over to where Lucas is sitting, wide grin still in place.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Lucas pauses his music and takes his headphones out.

“Hi,” Eliott says, coming to a stop in front of him. He kicks his board up and catches it with one hand, leaning it back against his leg.

Lucas raises an eyebrow. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing.” Eliott laughs and shrugs at the same time, a combination of gestures so at odds with Eliott’s outward appearance, with the black clothes and tattoos and intimidating model-esque height. “Yann said you looked bored.”

“I am bored.” Lucas winds his headphones into a ball and stuffs them into his pocket. “I want to go eat, but apparently Yann needs another fucking hour to roll around on a wooden plank.”

Eliott throws a hand out to the park. “You mean this isn’t exciting for you? Your standards are so high, Lallemant. Would you rather be at an opera?”

“I would just rather not spend my time watching stupid boys fall onto the pavement, thanks.”

“That’s funny. I thought you’d be used to it now.” At Lucas’s frown, Eliott adds, “Having boys fall for you.”

Lucas bites down on his cheek. Hard. “Is that supposed to be a compliment of some sort?” Lucas leans back onto his hands. “If it is, I think everyone might seriously be overselling your charm.”

“Oh, everyone? Everyone talks about how charming I am?”

Lucas rolls his eyes. He’s getting his bearings back, taking shallow breaths so Eliott doesn’t notice, but he’s thrown off—he’s not as quick as he usually is. “As if you don’t know.”

Eliott’s shrugs again, and his shoulders stay rounded forwards, his whole body hunching. “Yeah, I hear some things. I don’t know why…” Eliott huffs and runs one hand through his hair. The motion makes his bicep bunch up in a terribly appealing way, but Lucas barely notices, too busy watching Eliott’s face, watching a complicated series of expressions pass over it.

It makes him wonder.

“Maybe you’re right.” Eliott says. “I’m not that charming. Or at least, not charming to the right people.”

Lucas blinks. He’s not even completely sure what they’re talking about anymore. “Who are the right people?”

“Arnaud, obviously.”

Arnaud. The middle-aged security guard at their school with the perpetual scowl on his face, who seems to hate teenagers more than anything else in the world.

Lucas bites down on his cheek again, but he’s too late, there’s a runaway smile he can’t catch.

Eliott notices.

“Oh my god.” His eyes widen dramatically. His hands fly up to his chest and his board clatters down to the ground. “Have I entered an alternate universe or did you really just crack a smile at me?”

Lucas is fighting himself and he is losing. He can feel the way his mouth is twitching at the corners. He tilts his face up towards the blue sky, shaking his head. “Must be an alternate universe.”

“Well.” Eliott’s voice is quiet, his next words coming out in a rush. “Is this an alternate universe where you’ll agree to go on a date with me?”

Lucas snaps his head back down, so quickly a sharp pain shoots up his neck.

What.

Eliott has his hands in his pockets, eyes moving from the ground, up to Lucas, and back down.

“What.” Lucas says with absolutely no inflection. His chest is about to split open. He might faint. “Eliott, what are you—”

“So, yeah.” Eliott interrupts him, clearing his throat, moving his hands out from his pockets, then immediately stuffing them back in. “I, uh. I was wondering if you…maybe, uh, wanted to go on a date.” There’s a pause. “Together. If that wasn’t obvious.”

Lucas’s entire world has just been turned on its axis and he’s sure his mouth is hanging open, because what the hell is going on? He and Eliott don’t even, they don’t—

“But we hate each other,” Lucas blurts out. Eliott frowns at that, and Lucas’s voice rises an octave. “Don’t we?”

“No. At least, I don’t.” Eliott’s board is slowly rolling away from him, rattling towards a downward ramp, but neither of them notice. “I always thought it was—” A self-conscious cough. “I always thought that was flirting? Like, this whole time I thought we were flirting. Were we not flirting?”

Flirting. Christ on a cross, maybe Lucas has slipped into another dimension by accident, because surely this isn’t happening to him.

They stare at each other, incomprehension hanging between them; Lucas still in shock, Eliott looking increasingly uncomfortable.

“If you’re not interested,” Eliott starts, voice resigned, shoulders drooping, and no, Lucas doesn’t like that, he’s not totally sure what’s happening, but he doesn’t like that, “then that’s fine, obviously, I wouldn’t expect you to—”

“Oh my god.” Lucas interrupts him loudly, hands stretched out in front of him. “Eliott what the fuck, I’m not going to say no.”

 Eliott stops. Blinks. “No?”

“No. Fucking hell. You—why would I say no?”

Eliott’s hands fly out to his sides, “I don’t know! Because you don’t like me! Because you thought we were actually arguing? That we hated each other?”

Lucas groans. “Oh, no. Eliott.” He drops his face into his hands. He doesn’t want to say this, but he thinks he might have to. “Eliott.” There’s an uncontrollable giggle bubbling out of his chest, like the pressure there is starting to lessen, pieces of painful longing being released with giddy breaths. “I’ve had a crush on you for months.” Lucas says helplessly into his palms, as if the words can be caught there, kept secret in the creases of his skin rather than reaching Eliott’s ears.

Eliott’s voice is quiet when he says, “Months?”

“Almost a year,” Lucas says, because dignity is something other people have. “Me and literally everyone else on the planet. So.”

“I don’t care about everyone else.”

Lucas scoffs, lifting his head from his hands. “Please.”

“I’m serious.” Eliott’s eyes are intense on him; shards of icy blue that Lucas can feel under his skin. How many times has Lucas thought about those eyes, and then immediately beat himself up for thinking about those eyes? “I’m asking you out, Lucas. Because I like you. I really do.”

“What the fuck.”

Eliott frowns. “Okay, you just said you’re not saying no but I have to say this doesn’t really feel like a yes.”

“Oh my god, shut up.”

“See? You’re still being mean to me.”

Lucas abruptly stands from his perch, clambers down the few stairs separating him from Eliott until he’s right in front of him. Eliott’s hands are rising like he’s worried Lucas is about to tackle him.

Lucas is considering it, he won’t lie, but he needs to—

He needs this moment to happen again. He needs to say it because it’s Eliott and Lucas has been pretending that he’s not in love with Eliott for so long.

In love—

“Ask me again.” He demands, eyes boring into Eliott’s, cheeks flushing, hands practically shaking at his sides. “Eliott. Ask me again.”

Eliott nods once. Twice. “Okay.” His hands lower, hanging limply at his sides. “Do you want to go on a date with me?”

“Yes.” Lucas says evenly. Clearly. 

A wide, pleased smile blooms across Eliott’s face. “That’s good,” he says in a small voice, and Lucas realizes Eliott is reaching for him, fingertips seconds away from touching Lucas’s t-shirt and he knows he will absolutely combust if Eliott touches him—it’s all too overwhelming already, Lucas is a shooting star afire with impossibility and he is burning—so he slips away, dancing past Eliott towards the rest of the park. 

Eliott is staring after him, hands frozen in the air, fingers extended out.

A shiver wracks Lucas’s entire body when he thinks about those hands touching him, those fingers dancing across his skin. Not now. Oh god, not now. But maybe…

“When do you want to go on a date?” He asks, slowly walking backwards.

“Tonight.” Eliott says immediately and Lucas laughs, his chest cracked wide open, breaths caught on the breeze. “Are you free tonight?”

Lucas is not free tonight. He and Yann were going to play video games but really, he and Yann play videos games every Saturday, so.

“I might be.” He replies easily, adopting Eliott’s shrug for himself, acting like he’s not burning from the inside out, like Eliott’s gaze isn’t an ice cube sliding across his heated skin, melted drops trailing down his back. 

“I’ll message you.” Eliott calls out, and Lucas flips him off, just because he can, before he turns his back on Eliott, half-running over to where he can see Yann, leaning against a railing with his arms crossed and a smug expression on his face.

“I knew you liked him,” Yann croons when Lucas gets close enough.

“Whatever.”

He and Yann have barely made it out of the skatepark, Lucas bitching at Yann about how hungry he is, about how Yann definitely has to pay for his lunch now, when his phone buzzes with a DM from Instagram.

Lucas opens it.

srodluv: hi 

srodluv: do you still want to go on a date with me?

srodluv: how does 8 p.m. sound? i’ll pick you up?

lucallemant: yeah no thanks i changed my mind

srodluv: D:

lucallemant: ew don’t use the capital D face

srodluv: D: D: D:

lucallemant: 8 is fine

lucallemant: i’m so excited

lucallemant: when you say pick me up

lucallemant: you better mean a car

lucallemant: or walking

lucallemant: not a skateboard

srodluv: :D

lucallemant: eliott

srodluv: :D :D :D

[elisaphoenix13]

Take A Break

Quill had been acting weird lately. He always approached Scott like he wanted to say something but then he would rub the back of his neck and walk away, muttering under his breath. It was weird because Quill just didn't do that. He was known to say what was on his mind, and it even got him into trouble sometimes. But he had done this three times in the span of just as many weeks, and if it were physically possible, Scott would have question marks floating around his head right now.

There were even a couple of times when it seemed like the celestial would actually say something, but then the alarms would go off in the tower and Quill would look relieved as well as annoyed. They would suit up and help take care of whatever or whoever decided to make trouble, and when they got back home, they showered and collapsed into bed. If Scott grew into a giant, then they showered, collapsed into bed, and Scott slept for the next three days. Quill's strange behavior stopped after the second time the alarms went off so Scott figured that maybe he just needed advice he wasn't sure how to ask about and decided to go to someone else.

Now he was back to his usual self. Annoyingly so since Scott was trying to work on some schematics at the island counter on one end, and Quill was standing at the other end flicking tiny balled up pieces of paper at him. He only did that if he thought Scott was working too long. Quill annoyed him into a break. Scott wouldn't let it work this time though. He was almost finished. It would take one more hour tops.

"Baby, you're puffing out your cheeks again." As if to prove his point, Quill flicks a small piece of paper at Scott and hits his cheek.

"I am not!" The younger rubs his cheek with his shoulder when his boyfriend flicks another tiny paper ball at it. "Stop that!"

"You've been at this for five hours. Hunched over the counter. You're making my back hurt just looking at you." Quill cackles when he flicks another ball and it lands in Scott's very cold mug of coffee.

"One more hour."

"I'm just gonna keep flicking things." Quill warns him.

He did too. He circulated through different ammo as well. Tiny paper balls turned into Skittles, those sliding completely across the counter and the schematics and onto the floor by Scott, who only rolls his eyes. It was secretly amusing to watch a single piece of candy slide across his vision and his blueprints, as he scribbled notes and whatnot onto them. Every once in a while, Scott would actually stop the candy to throw into his mouth, but otherwise made no indication that he was stopping.

That was a mistake on his part though. It only fueled Quill's attempts to annoy him into a break, and he soon traded wasting Skittles into flicking magnets across the counter instead. Those were definitely more obnoxious and also not edible. Magnets slid across the counter one after another and Scott actually felt one of his eyebrows twitch. They were much harder to ignore and he didn't even have to look up to know Quill was preening. He knew how to get to Scott.

But he still refused to give in. He really was almost done. One more room to plan and then give his blueprints a thorough look over and he would be done. He even told Quill that but he still flicked magnets across the counter. Each and every one slid past and fell off onto the floor with a clatter, until finally, Scott brought his hand down on the next magnet in annoyance when it slid by.

Except it wasn't a magnet.

Scott was pretty sure they didn't own any magnets that had a fuzzy texture to them, and when he lifted his hand to examine the supposed magnet, he froze. It definitely wasn't a magnet. In fact, it was a small felt covered box that had Scott's heart jumping into his throat, and his mouth go dry. He stared for what seemed like hours before finally snapping his head in Quill's direction and finding a serious expression on his face.

"I meant it when I said I would move heaven and earth for you. I'll even tear the stars out of the sky. I just...I want you to know how serious I am about us. I know I go back out to space a lot but there isn't a single second I don't think about you. Out there or even right here. I also meant when I said I will always come back for you. You and Cassie. So please...make me the happiest man in the universe."

Scott was speechless. He was also fairly positive that if his eyes grew any wider that they would simply pop out of his head and roll under the counter and be lost forever. Was this why Quill was acting so strange recently? It would definitely explain a lot. He was growing increasingly frustrated for what seemed to be no reason to Scott until Quill finally seemed to snap out of it and took care of whatever problem he was having. Except he didn't. He just suddenly got very good about hiding how irked he felt.

Then a small nagging voice whispered to him from the corner of his mind. His first marriage failed. What if this one did too? What he and Quill had was amazing and he didn't want to screw it up. Things were just fine the way they were right?

No. A bigger part of his mind practically screamed at him that this was it. This was his chance at true happiness. Quill treated him like he was the most precious thing in the universe, and even treated Cassie like a princess. Even with the scars Scott sustained from his time in confinement with that psychotic lady, Quill looked at him like he was the most perfect thing. He held Scott like he was a treasure, was always gentle about touching his neck to make sure he didn't cause him any unnecessary pain, and was so unbelievably overprotective. Quill already took care of him. Of them. Getting married would just be a formality at this point.

He and Quill really were a dumbass version of Stephen and Tony now that he thought about it.

A heavy sigh comes from Quill before he slowly approaches Scott and reaches for the box. "Forget it...I don't want to pressure you-"

Scott only grips the box tightly and drops the pencil in his other hand so he can reach up and grab the celestial by the front of his shirt. He pulls him down into a needy kiss and groans quietly when Quill plunges his tongue down Scott's throat. The thought that a god was his boyfriend blew his mind, but a god as his fiancè? His husband? His mind nearly shut down. He would be married to an overprotective celestial that only had eyes for him and Scott inwardly preened at the thought. Of course it was just an awesome bonus to the fact that it was Quill. He was going to marry his best friend.

Quill pulls away, panting lightly from their brief makeout session. "Scott...I need an actual answer."

"Yes! You gigantic, suffocating, overprotective teddy bear of a man!" Scott pulls him down into another kiss before a thought occurs to him and he pushes Quill away and holds up a finger with the hand holding the box. "On one condition."

"Anything." The pirate breathes.

"No wedding. Let's just elope or something."

Quill smirks. "Sugar...we can get married in a trailer park for all I care."

Scott wrinkles his nose. "That's romantic."

Quill chuckles as he dips his head and pays careful attention to Scott's neck and jawline. It was something Scott didn't think he could live without anymore. It was already hard enough to sleep in their bed when Quill had to go out to space for days, sometimes weeks at a time. When he was gone, the bed felt too big. It felt cold, and that was when he wasn't considering the fact that Quill was his own personal heater. The world felt too big and empty when the pirate wasn't holding him, and he never thought he would want that. That he would need it. He was being taken care of for once.

"I haven't even looked at the ring yet. The box could be empty for all I know." Scott says as he lifts his arm to hook around Quill's neck so the man can continue trailing kisses while he opened the box.

"It's nothing special. Just a little toy dispenser plastic ring."

Scott snorts. "I kind of half believe you. You would do it just for the la-"

Scott opens the box and gawks at what he sees. The band was nothing short of amazing. It looked like it was dark gray polished stone, lined on both sides with obsidian, and when Scott tilted it, it had a light blue sheen to the rock. It was...unearthly. Which could only mean one thing.

"Quill?"

"Hmm?"

"How exactly did you afford this?"

"I may not have money here, but in space? I had a few extra units to spare." The celestial pulls away and plucks the ring out of the box. "It's made from a meteorite. This one in particular comes from a rare one. That's why there's a blue color to it. It cost a little extra but you know...only the best for you." Quill says with a shrug that Scott knew he definitely didn't feel. No, he was gloating, but it was okay.

"I have one more condition." Scott says with a grin and Quill tilts his head curiously. "We don't tell anyone and see how long it takes them to notice the rings."

Quill guffaws. "I knew I wanted to marry you for a reason!"

They both look down at the blueprints on the counter and then Scott stands up long enough to jump and wrap his legs around Quill's waist.

"How about that break?"

"Oh thank god." The pirate groans out as he makes his way to the stairs and up to their room. He moves too close to their bedroom door, accidently smacking Scott's head against it and he winces. "Sorry...what was it that Harley called us?"

Scott rubs the back of his head as Quill opens the door. "A disaster couple?"

"Yeah, well, he may be on to something."

[legolaslovely]

With You Part 1

A/N: Here is a Richard series I’ve been working on! This entire thing was inspired by this one video, I encourage you to watch it and fall in love but please don’t cry (like I did)! This will be 6 parts. Thanks for reading friends!

Pairing: Richard Armitage x Reader

Word Count (this part): 1,084

Warnings (for series): drinking, serious makeout sesh, tiny bit of angst because plot lines are cool but mostly fluff because be STILL MY HEART RICHARD 

Summary: (Y/N) and Richard are together again, working on a new film project. Will the tension between them ruin everything, or will they give in to their feelings for each other? 

You adjusted your bag on your shoulder as you strolled out of the elevator and down the long hallway. The butterflies in your stomach and your thrashing heart in your chest refused to be ignored. You did your best to hide your smile as you thought of seeing him again.

You and Richard had worked together before. Whether you shared the stage or the screen, the tension between you was always palpable and you found it increasingly difficult to say no to his lingering touches and soft smiles. But you had rules. You would not bring your work life into your personal life. Being an actor in this city was hard enough without relationship troubles on top of it.

But Richard was different. He wasn’t the brooding man he so often portrayed or the self-centered ass so many men in your profession turned out to be. He was kind, intelligent, passionate, funny and damn beautiful. You almost slipped the last time you worked together and he knew it. This time, you made a pact with yourself. You wouldn’t budge.

You took your seat for the first reading of the project you were so excited about. It was just a coincidence that Richard ended up being your costar… and love interest. No one had even mentioned his name until you saw his reply to the mass email confirming he’d attend the read through today. Your nerves hadn’t rested since.

You made your way around the room, greeting actors you knew and some you didn’t. You had a lengthy conversation with the director, Peter, about how excited he was that you agreed to do the film. He soon brought over the costume designer and she gushed over you and how she was looking forward to dressing your character.

You claimed a seat against the windows and opened your script, waiting to dive in. You took a long sip from your water bottle and almost spit it out when you heard his smooth voice behind you.

“(Y/N). How are you?”

You turned to see his grin and watched his eyes float down to your lips. You stood and embraced him. “I’m good, Rich. How are things with you?”

“Things are great. It’s good to see you. I’m excited about this one,” he said. You felt his hand lingering on your back.

“Alright, let’s get things started. Richard, over here,” Peter waved him to a seat across the table from you.

After Peter said some opening remarks, he had everyone around the large table introduce themselves. It was something he always did and you hated it. You barely listened to anyone else as you rehearsed what you would say. When it was your turn, you forced yourself to look around the table and smile as you announced your name and your role.

Of course Richard’s voice was smooth and worry free when the time came for his introduction. He smirked at you and his blue eyes had a mischievous twinkle in them as he passed the ball to Peter again, as if he could read your mind.

You glued your gaze to Peter as he spoke to the small crowd and tried your hardest to take in his inspiring words. Though you felt Richard’s eyes on you, you refused to give him any attention. Until you felt his foot nudge yours under the table.

You tucked your feet far under your chair and looked to him with wide eyes. He had a conquering, lopsided grin on his face and he tilted his head in question. You rolled your eyes and decidedly looked to Peter again as he finished his speech.

Throughout the reading, your head was down and all your focus was aimed toward your work. Despite your current frustration with Richard, you were thrilled to be working with him again. Already, he was bringing great insights to his character and yours just through his words and inflections. You both easily carried the script.

When there was a break in your action, you risked a glance at him. You were surprised to see he was already looking at you, and a sweet smile shone on his thin lips. You swallowed hard and returned to your script, but you heard his soft chuckle.

“Alright, let’s take a break, everybody. Be back in 15.”

Richard stood and you jerked your head toward the hallway, urging him to follow you. You flew out of the room and waited for him down the hall, trying to calm your raw nerves. You weren’t sure you’d be able to work with him driving you crazy like this. He already had your mind wandering to inappropriate places.

He sauntered up to you and leaned his hand on the wall beside you. “Yes?”

“Can you just cool it with the eyes and-and the smirks? I’m trying to work, Rich.”

“I didn’t realize my eyes had such an effect on you.” He leaned toward you.

You sighed and shook your head sharply. You never knew what to say when he was like this. You wanted to drag him to the nearest empty room and devour that infuriating smirk.

“You always do that when you’re frustrated with me.” He took your chin in his fingers, but you swatted his hand away, making him chuckle. “You part your lips just so… just enough for me to see you push your tongue against your top teeth. Even your characters do it.” He was staring hard at your lips now and you licked them self-consciously. He laughed. “They do that too.”

You rested your head against the wall and sighed. “Rich, you gotta stop.” Then you slid away from him and started down the hall.

You heard him running after you. “(Y/N), wait.” He gently grabbed your hand and landed in front of you. “I’m sorry. I’m just happy to see you- to be working with you again.”

You stared at where your hands met and twiddled your fingers with his and gave into your smile. “Me too.”

“Come to mine tonight, just to go through lines. We’ll order pizza and work, that’s it.”

You looked up at him through your lashes. “Mushroom pizza?’

“Extra mushrooms.”

You nodded. “Okay.”

You started down the hallway towards the others and he broke the short silence between you. “Maybe you should sit next to me. Then I wouldn’t be able to distract you with my eyes.”He blinked wildly.

You pushed him and rushed into the crowded room, trying to hide your smile.

[ten-thousand-paper-wasps]

They were going to rob Duke Enerwaeir blind.

Or, at least, he and Falk were. Morrin was becoming increasingly suspicious of their absences and subsequent newfound wealth, and she couldn't keep a secret, so of course Nells wasn't going to tell her. They all had their roles to play in this gambit. She just happened to be at her most convincing when she wasn't aware she needed to lie.

It was a dress ball, so there was plenty of money to be had, if their hands were quick enough. Naturally, that meant spending an evening looking absolutely delicious.

His immensely gorgeous hunk of Husband was completely slaying it. Zakurr's lustrous, glossy braids were now adorned with tiny, delicate chains. Each of his four horns was buffed to perfection. The length of fur about his waist was shining and soft and it smelled like apples, sweet and spiced.

That wasn’t all, though. Zakurr had put on the boots Nells was ever so fond of. They went all the way up his legs, ending nearly at the top of his thighs. Nells was almost drooling, just thinking about him. Why did he have to go and be all scrumptious?

Nells himself wore a long dress, all dazzling greens and blues. The material shimmered as he moved, with a slit up the side to expose his long, shapely legs. His hair was painstakingly combed out and pinned in place, an elegant waterfall of soft mahogany. He even put on heels.

Falk looked nearly as delectable as Nells did. They wore a tightly fitted top that bared the entirety of their midriff. The center of the chest was cut out, as well, showing off their shape. They also had a pair of expensive burgundy pants that were loose about the hips and tight below the knees. Falk had chosen to keep their regular boots, seeing no reason to forego sensible footwear, opting instead for heavy gold jewelry.

And Morrin! Oh, his beautiful Morrin. She'd granted him a boon, permitted him to fuss over her for an evening. Her fiery, red-gold mane billowed about her like a cloud, sparkling with tiny jewels. Her hands, wide and rough and ravishing, fluttered uncertainly at the hem of her vest, a stately forest green piece of silk and silver. She was dazzling, a diamond in her own right, but ill at ease amongst the upper echelons of nobility.

It made a certain amount of sense, he supposed. Masonaile, where she'd lived all her life, hadn't had much in the way of wealth. Of course she felt out of place here. But, he was pleased to note, she was handling it admirably.

Morrin was shaking hands and trying to dance and blushing up a storm whenever she was complimented. There were pretty people all around her, giving her their attention. He spies Falk moving among them, hands quick and dainty and pockets charmed to be impossibly deep.

Zakurr looks on, using his immense height to keep watch. People buzz around him like mayflies. Two men knock into him on purpose, but one look sends them scrambling.

Then, Falk waltzes, moving from dancer to dancer, to Nells, flushed and panicked. "It's Morrin," they pant. "She's with some ashing young Earl, he's trying to get her alone."

It takes him a moment to process why this is horrible. Ordinarily, Morrin was devastatingly capable. She would have killed him and been done with it. But they were at a ball, and she'd been thoroughly disarmed, spending nearly half an hour pulling out weapon after weapon. There was an entire table just for her things.

She had nothing on her person with which to kill the Earl. Additionally, she was under the impression she mustn't, for reasons of diplomacy. So, he supposed, it was up to their little family to rescue her.

First, Zakurr had to be told.

"Honeybear," Nells commanded. "Get ready crush some skulls. Morrin's got a boy problem."

Smoke on the wind, but she'd let him, too. She would let the Earl do whatever he wanted. Why had they told her they wanted to win favor from the Duke? "Just don’t cause a scene and it'll be fine." She would be terrified of letting them down. She would call it duty.

Harkenship had been a bitter lesson. He could not let her be hurt like that again.

Falk moved the quickest, palming a knife from a serving tray and plunging it into the Earl's kidney, soft and silent. The Earl let out a low gasp and dropped. Morrin's face was a mix of relief and horror.

It was chaos after that. Morrin stomped on the Earl's neck, killing him. His friends moved to kill her, but Nells was faster. His long legs were wrapped around the neck of the biggest one, choking him, while Morrin threw punches hard enough to crack stone and Falk smashed kneecaps with impunity.

The other guests were screaming in terror and outrage, crowding eachother like a swarm of rats. Zakurr took one step toward the fight and they parted before him like a desperate tide.

When he got there, he kicked a Baron to the floor and Falk leapt up for a kiss, drawing Zakurr's strength into themselves and pressing their bag to his bare chest. "Grab our things. I love you."

And Zakurr was off, charging to the low tables to retrieve their weapons. Falk's bag never filled, no matter what he put in it, so he emptied every table in the room before moving on to the Duke's personal valuables. With everyone distracted by the fight, he had plenty of time.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

"Grab our things," Falk told him, already feeling Zakurr's power roiling in their chest. "I love you."

They slammed a palm to the floor and the ground quaked beneath them. Stone erupted through the floor in angry spikes. How dare he. How dare a mortal Earl try to dishonor Falk's oldest friend? For Morrin, Falk would do anything.

Right now, it meant killing a dozen people they'd only intended to steal from for doing her the supreme insult of defending the Earl. He earned his death. He earned it the second he laid eyes on her and made his move.

Falk was angry, and Nells had a feral smile, and Morrin was going to go home after only bloodying her perfect knuckles. She was too precious to them to be hurt.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

Owlsby was disguised as an unfortunately deformed carriage horse. He was getting to be too big to hide, so it only made sense to find new ways to take him into town. The extra legs were hidden under a blanket and tucked up out of sight. Nells convinced him to allow Zakurr to hitch him to a stolen cart. In the right lighting, like now, under the half moon, it was very nearly convincing.

Zakurr tossed Falk's bag in the back and hopped into the seat, letting out a sharp whistle. Owlsby roused himself from his nap as Nells came sprinting out of the building, Morrin tucked under one arm and protesting. As soon as they were safely at his side, Zakurr whistled again, louder and sharper. The building caught fire.

Falk appears in his lap with a soft pop, makeup smeared, with a very unsettled lizardfolk in their arms. Her dress was lovely, if shredded and burnt.

"Falk," he warns, "Did you kidnap her? You know we can't take her with us if she doesn't want to come."

The lizardfolk in question blushes and mumbles that she'd love to come, anywhere in the world as long as it isn't here. Zakurr resolves to ignore it for now and question her in the morning, if she's still around. He slaps the reigns gently and Owlsby takes off for the inn. They can pay the fee and collect their packs, but it isn't wise to stay in town. Not after that.

It would be nice, he muses, really nice, if this could just stop happening. Theft was all well and dandy if it kept them fed, and it did, so Zakurr wasn't about to complain. But he would love it if he didn't have to strike entire towns off of their map when Falk and that idiot elf got a little too greedy.

There was no need to rob every noble at the ball. No reason. And then one little human man gets too handsy when Falk can see him, and now he's dead for it.

True, the Earl had definitely been in the wrong, and sure, he could believe Morrin was glad of his death. But it was something that could easily have been resolved without any blood, had Zakurr been the one to reach him first, and Falk's increasing bloodlust as of late concerned him.

That amulet stank of evil and death, but they refused to take it off for any length of time. Zakurr was willing to bet his fifth kidney that it was to blame. Power was a lure Falk had never been able to resist.

He only prayed his dearest Nells did not become so foolish.

[ninaahelvar]

3 times Owen wants to kiss Claire + 1 time they actually kiss

Prompt from @dwayne-cirocjohnson: “You’re my roommate who’s super cute and it’s the middle of the night and you’re cramming for your exams in your flannel pajamas and disheveled hair and it’s becoming increasingly hard for me not to kiss you”

AO3

A/N: I fell into this prompt and just....everything is wonderful my friends. Have fun. (also, shout out to @scoundrels-in-love for being my beta today - true saviour) 

1.

Claire always liked to cram for exams right up until the last possible minute. Owen found this out the hard way when he went for a glass of water near midnight and saw the redhead. On the couch, her laptop screen shining with a blue ominous glow and her glasses hanging low as she was hunched in a weird position as she read. The only way Owen could describe it was a sort of gollum-like position. Admittedly, the sight was enough to shock him into shouting and collapsing against the wall. But it became almost regular around finals. Owen understood.

It became a regular thing. The messy buns, two pairs of glasses on her head, the famous study pjs with their flannel design, and pens shoved into the bands of her hair. She was a mess and all their friends said so. So, why was it, that Owen found her so goddamn irresistible? He saw her on her good days, the days where she wore the skirts and the jumpers, hair done perfectly and everything on her person in order for classes. Claire was the picture of perfection when she went to class and studying for tests during the semester. Then, the finals came, and she turned into a disaster.

Owen wasn’t sure what it was. He only been in one of her classes in the first semester; that’s how they met. Owen was her partner in an assignment, and yeah they didn’t really get on much, but he thought she was fun, for the most part. When she was complaining one day in class about her dorm room, Owen suggested that they get an apartment together. And yeah, he was seeing someone at the time, so it wasn’t a huge deal. Until they broke up and Owen realised that the feisty roommate of his was breaking him slowly, making him fall ridiculously hard for her. All their friends knew it. But no one said anything about it.

After Owen had changed majors and their courses became different, Claire and Owen saw each other less during the day, but always spent their nights together in their little apartment. When Owen came home from work, he found the lights turned on, save for the single blaring light of a laptop screen. It was a tough one, because he also heard the soft puffs of air of a slumbering Claire. He rounded the corner to their living area, and found her hanging over the side of the couch, cozying up on a pillow.

Her exam was two days away, and she was nervous. Hell, Owen was nervous too and he wasn’t even taking the class. It was only mid semester exams, but she was stressing about it like it was the end of it all. Owen sighed, bending down at the side of the side of the couch and watching as the little breaths became a perfect pattern. God, he thought everything about her was perfect, didn’t he? It wasn’t fair. Owen let his head hang before looking back at her.

It was the first time he’d ever thought about it, wondered if he could. Wondered if he could kiss her. It was a selfish thought, letting himself indulge it, imagining her slight response before they let themselves sink into something more.

Owen reached out, fingers tentative to even dare it. The lonely strands of hair, falling just inside the rim of her glasses were tempting, just ready to be moved, and for Owen’s fingers to just be close to her, if only for a second. He tried to nudge them aside, but the tickle of her hair against her face spooked Claire awake.

“I’d never cheat!” she yelled, clutching the edge of the couch, then looking at Owen as he looked at her, confused, “what?” she asked, flicking the hair out of her face and pushing her glasses up her nose.

“You...think about taking exams when you sleep?” Owen grinned, trying to suppress the laugh, but it fell easily, escaping him so much he had to fall back on his ass just to let the laugh out fully.

“Shut up,” Claire muttered, kicking his foot. She yawned, taking her laptop and moving the only source of light to her room. Still, the everpresent glow around her, even when she lazily smiled back at him before shutting the door, Owen had the overwhelming urge to chase after her, following that smile with a kiss until she lay comfortably. With his knees rising, he rested his arms on them, watching her door for a moment before getting up and making himself a snack before bed. He shuffled off, and let himself think about the messy red hair that made him wonder about the likelihood of college romances lasting beyond these formative years.

2.

Maybe it was blue balls; maybe because he hadn’t gotten laid in months was why he couldn’t stop picturing himself with Claire. He was desperate to kiss her, just to be able to taste her lips like so many others had. They sat across from each other at their breakfast table, textbooks and laptops scattered across it, the clear line between the two courses showing in how much text was on each page or the slideshows that flickered through on laptop screens.

Claire tapped her foot against the leg of the table, fiddling with her earring as she wrote things down in her notebook. She was completely in the zone. Owen was supposed to be taking notes, but foolishly he was staring. He had a nasty habit of that. It felt so idiotic to just fall for her constantly, but he was a fool. Reaching up to her hair, she pulled out another pen and placed the one in her hand in her mouth. He couldn’t describe why or how, but it felt beautiful to watch her so something so ridiculous. He had a goofy grin on his face when Claire looked up at him. He lost it quickly, feeling the rising heat on his cheeks.

“You know,” Claire started, putting her pens down, “if you keep getting distracted by the wall, you won’t be able to ace your animal behaviours class,” she joked, but at least she didn’t notice he was staring at her.

“You know that’s my major, why do you have to make me nervous?” Owen replied, trying to dig back into his work.

“To keep you on your toes, Grady,” Claire laughed, and it made Owen stop again. He wanted to hear her laugh more, the squeak of a laugh, the snorting as she really enjoyed herself. He liked all of the weirdness that radiated from her.

“How’s business going?” he asked.

“I am exhausted,” Claire groaned, burying her face into her papers as Owen laughed, “but if he doesn’t give me extra marks on this presentation, I am going to sue,” she said, gripping tightly to her pens, picking them back up.

“I’m sure you know how at this stage,” Owen said, leaning forward, “and there’s no way he taught you that ‘cause Professor Finn is scared of you,” he smiled. Claire pointed her pen at Owen, eyes narrowing on him.

“You know me too well.”

“We have been living together for like a year and a half,” he chuckled.

“Yeah but you also had a girlfriend. Didn’t think you’d notice me,” Claire commented, pulling a textbook forward.

“It’d be impossible not to notice you,” he confessed, before smirking, “gollum.” Owen bit into his lip, stopping the laugh, but his shoulder still shook as he couldn’t help it flutter out. Claire threw her textbook forward.

“That was one time,” she yelled.

“Sure. And what are you going to say this time? You were doing it to exercise your back? Oh no wait, that was your bullshit excuse last time!” he challenged and Claire pushed her chair out from under her, trying to round the table.

“Oh come here, you’re dead,” she called out, and Owen was already up, keeping a distance between them, as well as their kitchen island.

“Your exam is in three weeks! If you kill me, you’ll need to fit my body disposal and cover up all in the middle of your very tight schedule,” he tried to reason, knowing full well that Claire had every last minute of her days up until her exam planned to a tee. If he messed that up, he would be just as dead. And it stopped her. She smiled and giggled, rolling her eyes.

“I hate that you actually have a point,” she muttered, combing her fingers through her hair. She pushed off the kitchen island, moving back to the breakfast table. “I’m killing you after the finals,” she pointed at him, before dragging her textbook back to her.

“I don’t feel like this is going to go well in my favour, so hopefully your mind palace like brain forgets to do it,” he chuckled, getting a can of energy drink from fridge and drinking some of it before going to sit down.

“You’re right again. Can’t say I’ll remember your name by the end of these three weeks. It may become less important to me,” she smirked, digging herself back into the mess of her project.

“You...wound me, Claire,” he gasped, walking back to his chair and sitting back down. Claire looked up from her work, leaning forward with a challenge set into her shoulders.

“Oh no, what are you going to do about it?” she smirked. The look in her eyes, the teasing notion in her voice - it was like she knew what she was doing. And all Owen could think of was surging forward, knocking everything to the ground just to kiss her. She was testing him, and he was damn near about to fail; fall for the easy trap that she set for him. Owen could do it, push the table aside, kiss her swiftly as they fell to the floor, rolling in each other’s embrace as their kiss lasted as long as she would allow him.

“You’re awful,” he said, resigning into his chair and hated the fact that he wished for more than just playful banter.

Falling for her was becoming the worst thing for him. But he loved it anyway.

3.

“Hey, come on, we gotta go,” Owen nudged Claire. Of course she fell asleep at the library, she only had a few days until the exam of her life and she was neglecting a few things. The beanie that was never usually worn was on her head, hiding the fact that her hair had been unwashed in a few days. Owen kept her company, giving her focus questions and timing her mock exams. Claire went over everything, over and over again, Owen reading out words, and Claire telling him the meaning of them all. They were there from late afternoon to middle of the night. She was brain dead - the type of brain dead where words were repeated and sentences were never finished or the soft asking of “you know?” to the confusion of everyone around. Owen knew she was struggling, and it was time to get out of there.

Gathering up all her notes how she’d want them, putting them in her bags and hitching them up on his shoulder, pulling Claire to her feet as she groaned. “The business model,” she started, mumbling something that was unintelligible. Owen scoffed out a laugh.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, helping her to walk,  “we’re heading home,” he told her, as Claire linked her arm with his, walking in time with him. Her eyes were shut and her head rested on him in her drowsy state.

They walked along the sidewalk, walking back to their apartment peacefully and the night air changing to bring in cooler winds.

“Food,” she grumbled, clutching at her stomach.

“I’ll get Chinese,” Owen whispered to her, the urge to press his lips to the top of her head as he smiled was overwhelming. He liked the wholesome stuff, the stuff that may be simple and mundane, but a treasure in the heart of someone in love.

“Yay,” she said monotoned. Claire could have tried for enthusiasm, but Owen was sure that every last brain cell was used to its capacity; crammed to the brim.

They missed the lights to cross, having to wait through the mounting traffic that did not ease. Owen huffed, pulling the bags up on his shoulder again, but as he shifted, Claire had become comfortable. So, she did what she always did, she cuddled closer to thing providing the comfort. It was Owen, in this case. He still, looking down at her, watching as she smiled as she held onto his arm and her weight shift into him easily.

With her head resting on his shoulder, the light still not telling them to cross, Owen could savour the moment with her. A snapshot of all that he wanted; something more than friendship, a lust for love found within the other. He hated that he was hopeless romantic sometimes. Though he was awful at it, he still kind of wanted the whole show, to treat a woman right, to hold her hand and kiss her whenever and however she wanted. He may not succeed all the time, but god, he’d try every goddamn day for Claire.

But he never pushed past the step that crossed them over, that tilted their roommate status from friends to lovers.  To have Claire Dearing in your life, it was like a miracle. He’d seen how people had fucked up their relationship with her, how they did something that she couldn’t stand to be around, to let them stay. Owen never wanted to be a statistic that would hurt Claire. And he knew damn well she knew how many people had done her wrong.

It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen the worst of it when her past boyfriend left.

He hated that she cried at night.

And that comforting her felt so wrong, that he let her sit in her room all night.

The lights sounded, and they continued just another block to their apartment. And all the while, Owen hated that they were moving so fast. He didn’t get his moment to wake her with a kiss as they walked up the stairs, or hold her by their front door as she giggled with the little snort when she became overwhelmed with the feeling in her chest, kiss her in the midst of it. Owen missed his chance to kiss her goodnight at her door, or kiss her goodnight in a bed that they would share. And Owen lay awake, wondering Claire had wanted ever thought of him like he thought of her.

+1

Owen was waiting outside the exam building, knowing Claire’s exam was over any minute. His animal behaviour exam was done with the day before, and he was excited that he and Claire were free. He had a bar of chocolate, wine and Ben and Jerry’s ice cream all waiting back at the apartment; he wanted to pick Claire up in case it didn’t go as well as they both planned.

A few minutes more, and the courtyard was filling with students, some more defeated than others, but he could see Claire straight away. Her hair was bright that day, actually washed because of course she needed to feel fresh and alert for her exam. Owen made sure he didn’t have any alarms that would wake her before she needed. He missed his workout in the morning, but he felt like he deserved it after the exam.

Claire was walking aimlessly, clicking things on her phone until she saw him waving ridiculously hard to gain her attention. Suddenly, she broke into a large smile that made Owen’s heart ache. Racing over, Owen watched as she avoided bumping into people, her hair flicking back and forth as she ran.

Jumping straight into his arms, Owen staggered back, his face soon burying into the crook of her neck as she squealed out of joy. Claire was no longer on her feet and Owen only really noticed when he could turn without the encumbrance of her feet holding them still. Owen basked in the feeling for as long as he could before letting her fall to her feet, still glowing in a joyous way as she was practically hopping with excitement. As she stared up at him, Owen couldn’t help but think about how easy it would be to kiss her, how normal it would feel. Claire ducked her head, fixing hair behind her ear before she looked back at him.

“I think I passed,” she smiled, letting out a sigh of relief.

“That’s awesome!” Owen said, pulling her in for another hug before letting room between them once more.

“And you’re to thank,” she said, nudging his arm.

“Okay, that’s a lie,” he scoffed, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

“You stayed up with me and helped me study,” she started, “made sure I ate and slept right. You were there for me and I just…” Claire’s words trailed off, as though she couldn’t voice something within her or lost herself in thought.

Owen laughed again, “Me? Helping? Claire, you did everything, I was just that roommate that never lets you live down that time you were gollum and scared the cr-”

Before Owen could finish his sentence or react, Claire was on her toes, hand on the back of his neck as she pulled him down to her. Their lips met in a soft and nervous pairing. They were unsure at first before Claire stepped into him, deepening the kiss to how she liked. And he realised...she was kissing him. He wasn’t dreaming, because he could taste the subtle stain of coffee on her lips and could feel the slight shake in her hand as she bound it into his jacket. They parted, but Claire barely stepped away from him. “Thanks, Owen,” she beamed, and Owen blinked, unable to find the words.

“I...uh…”

“God, that took us long enough, didn’t it?” she laughed, her hand slipping down to his, fingers intertwining, and that giant smile of hers was blinding him to sense. All he could do was nod as she laughed and leaned into him, holding him close and not letting him slip from her slight embrace. They began walking, though Owen felt slow, as though the walk itself was helping him catch up.

“Did you just -”

“Yep,” Claire replied.

“And are we going to da-”

“Yep,” she confirmed once again.

“Okay,” he nodded, “I like that,” he said, finally being able to kiss at the top of her head, arm draped over her shoulder as her hand reached up to tangle her fingers with his own.

Back at their apartment, Claire put down her purse on the kitchen island and turned back to Owen. “Hey, you know that time we were arguing about me being gollum?” she asked. Owen looked at her, nodding and smiling to her.

“Yeah? You were getting super competitive,” he said, putting his keys down near her bag. But she stepped away, a playful hop away from him. His eyes narrowed on her.

“Yeah, ‘cause I wanted you to kiss me, Owen,” she said, backing away from him slowly. He knew what she was doing this time.

“What?” he said, just as Claire walked slowly away, looking over her shoulder with a sly smile. “Wait, no, you can’t just walk off like that,” he said, moving forward.

“What are you going to do about it?” she asked, her brow raising and Owen smirked, surging forward and chasing Claire swiftly. She squeaked when he finally caught up, both of them collapsing to the couch, kissing and giggling with the joy of everything. He was glad he finally got to kiss her. It was everything he could have imagined and more.

God, he’s so glad he messed up his first semester classes.

[bloodycalligraphy]

multi-purpose-tool-guy replied to your post:

im just gonna.... scoot in here and uh..... enable you..... scoot scoot....

OK hear me out. Here’s some TLJ-based Kylux mpreg thoughts.

I think Snoke always knew Kylo was the knock-off brand of what he really wants. That Kylo is broken by the fact that he FEELS SO MUCH and he lets his feelings drag him around even though he clearly wishes he wasn’t like this. He was probably always like this. 

And Hux? Hux is useful but Hux lacks the sort of power that Kylo has by birth and breeding. Also he’s an absolutely sucking void of a human being with bile where other people have blood. He’s easy enough to control, but mostly exactly as you would a dog — reward it when it’s good and make sure it knows you could beat it if it’s not. Watch the teeth. Don’t take your eyes off it.

They’ll be steps to power, but are they really going to be heirs to his vision? Or are they the tools he’ll use until he can get better, shinier, less buggy and broken ones?

I’d like to thank the Rlos who want Rey to “continue the Skywalker line” because that sure sounds like the exact sort of shit you could feed Kyle Ron to make him do some Fucking Weird Shit and well, General, just lie back and think about the Empire. Kyle has probably never seen junk that wasn’t his own and the one Knight that he kissed once got sent out by Snoke to some planet acid-spitting worms and came back with their lips melted shut by scar tissue. And frankly I’m not sure anyone has ever in his life taught Hux that sex is about anything other than Power and Pain.

Anyway, Kyle over here’s like literally twice as wide as Armie, so obviously he’s got the space in that refrigerator-size torso for whatever demonspawn comes out of this.

Throw in some Force garbage about how if Kylo doesn’t spend a certain amount of time around Hux regularly he feels like he’s gonna puke his kidneys out because this INCREDIBLY FORCE SENSITIVE fetus would like to vibe with whatever weird vibes Hux gives off. Actually they’re probably very chill. Since he’s only got one (1) emotion: Hatred. And he’s got a boss and a PAIN IN THE ASS who can read his mind, I’m sure the inside of his brain is WMD blueprints and elevator music most of the time.

So they chill. They don’t... like each other? But maybe they realize that they’ve made some misjudgments and now they’re actually even better prepared to murder each other.

Hux starts researching weapons that a lightsaber can’t block. Force-resistant materials. He starts packing a couple extra energy blades on his body at all times. He buys a slug-shooting rifle and starts carrying it damn near everywhere.

Kylo is still gonna be killing his dad and getting gut-shot by a wookie and finding the true power of hatred after THE ANGRIEST GIRL IN THE WORLD hands him his own ass on a platter, obviously. You could stuff a whole watermelon in that boy and it would not slow him down. But it’s fucking with his head. Are his priorities... right? What does it all mean? Existential crisis with a side of his body literally doesn’t belong to him and he didn’t choose this at any point and WHY IS HE DOING ANY OF THIS AT ALL

Things explode. Things still very, very much explode.

And that’s going to be rather important, really, because Hux knows he can rebuild a planet-sized weapon and he can buy a new warship and he can train a hundred thousand more child soldiers. Every life except his own is replaceable and it always, always has been.

And Kylo is thinking obsessively about family, about his parents, about his childhood, about his life and where it has lead him, about right and wrong, light and dark. 

But all things must come to an end? And the boy sith who would be supreme leader doesn’t have enough time to telepathically tell Rey NOT to swing by really not a good time right now. 

Kylo gets his guts excavated by unfeeling, uncaring medical robots because this is a hideous dystopia of reproductive rights or something. Hux is there because, well, he’s a little bit of a sadist everyone knows that. That’s the only possible reason he could be there, isn’t it?

Haha no. He’s gonna make eye contact with that blue-eyed, screaming creature and all the crazy in that heavily hair-gelled head is gonna skew in exactly the expected ways. Because, well, he can BUILD another weapon. He can BUILD another army. But he can’t BUILD a fucking baby. Or well, he could, but it wouldn’t be this exact baby, now would it? And honestly, honestly? Why would he build any other? This one is PERFECT. He made that and it’s his and he would rather drown in his own blood than let anyone hurt it. 

(See? He’s not his father after all. He cannot even understand his father in this moment. He has always known himself to be weak and sought to protect himself. Now here is the weakest imaginable version of himself and he feels that same urge. It’s his and he will protect it or he will die. That has always been the only two options.)

And Kylo wakes up with his internal organs rearranged and stapled back together to see a fucking armed sociopath holding HIS CHILD and nearly kills Hux right then and there except if he died then he would definitely drop the baby and if Kylo sits up too fast his spleen is gonna pop out probably. 

They don’t even have to talk about things or lie to each other because they have spent a stupid amount of time with one another and they know. The fear in Hux now is the same fear that is swallowing Kylo up like a howling cyclone.

So they go to Snoke and it seems very much like Hux will betray Kylo like the untrustworthy dog that he is and Kylo will stay the loyal and steady servant of the darkness, but Kylo is a nest of serpents held together by medical tape. And all of Hux’s research? Well, if you want to blow the most powerful Force user you’ve ever met’s head off his ugly shoulders? You might need a real firearm and some Force-resistant bullets.

Cue a very different fight against the Praetorian Guard. Rey shows up twenty minutes late with Starbucks to a room full of corpses and fire and Kylo “Ben Solo” Ren trying to hold his torso together while Armitage “General Hugs” Hux looks increasingly red-faced and distressed at a very small and screaming baby.

No lightsabers explode.

No one’s around to sign the paperwork on DJ’s deal so he fucks off on the first ship he can break into while Phasma’s calls keep going directly to Hux’s voicemail.

The Resistance makes it to Crait safely and Holdo does not explode anything and Rose does not have to contemplate kicking 500,000 stormtroopers to death with her own two feet. (I mean she doesn’t, but she still DOES.)

Phasma’s call goes through. 

“Hey I’ve got two big Resistance morons and a soccer ball.”

“Cool. We killed the Supreme Leader and also it’s a girl.”

“Congratulations, sir. Does she have a name?”

“Not yet, I was a little busy.”

Rey watches Kylo get increasingly pale. “Are you okay?”

“Not really,” he says.

Hux remembers that someone helped MAKE this baby and she’s probably fond of him or something. Maybe Hux is fond of him. He’s not sure yet exactly. But he would probably shoot the scavanger girl if she hurt him. Of course, he would probably shoot her anyway, y’know? Just because.

Chewbacca is sort of waiting for Rey to come back.

He does not expect her to come back in the company of the First Order’s three most powerful leaders and also Rose, Finn and a VERY ANGRY BB-8.

Also there’s a baby? It’s a very cute baby. She’s got Ben’s nose already.

“What’s her name?” he asks.

“Haven’t decided,” Kylo Ren says at the same time Rey says, “I don’t know.”

They glare at each other. Chewie does not smack Kylo upside the back of his head simple because it looks right now as though a stiff wind would knock him over just as well. Also, well, he wouldn’t have helped Rey with this COMPLETELY INSANE PLAN if he didn’t think Ben Solo could still come home.

He can’t. Really. This is not Ben Solo going to his mother. This is Kylo Ren going to General Organa with three and a half hostages and a burning desire to get some war criminals off the hook.

(Maybe DJ does a nice thing and leaves something explosive behind when he goes. Or he gives the whole First Order a computer virus or something. They’d deserve it.)

Anyway, Hux probably is still set on handing his daughter the whole known universe and does something incredibly stupid like pull a gun on Leia and gets every blaster in the room pointed at him while he’s holding the infant Skywalker scion. Kylo forcibly (haha) disarms everyone in the room and gently sets Hux on his damn fool ass and not so gently shuts his jaw so tight he can barely breathe. But he can still breathe.

This still unnamed baby is going to be a princess in a world where everyone won’t be trying to kill her all the time, isn’t that good enough for you? (It isn’t, actually, but Hux can make world domination a back-up plan for at least the next two hours.)

Phasma refuses to take off her helmet. Or talk to anyone.

Rey is going to loudly insist that they’re not that bad — and they have a baby! They can’t be bad? At least the baby is probably not bad! 

Leia is going to call Kylo “Ben” and so everyone else is going to follow suit as he bleeds internally and hates them all. He would still stab his uncle if he saw him.

(MAYBE HE DOES HAHA.)

Does Phasma particularly care if her life’s work is sacrificed on the altar of peace? Uh, as long as she still has her LIFE, not particularly. 

Empires, warships, armies can be rebuilt. The universe is always going to be there to conquer. Right? And "princess” doesn’t seem like such a bad title, really, when it’s his baby girl.

Kylo is still an angry, bitter sack of vipers. Hux now has two emotions and they’re both terrifying and involve firearms. Not saying they “fall in love,” but they do practice kissing and trade insults that are maybe affectionate? Hux kills more than one person who tries to get at Kylo with his bare hands and a energy blade. They try extremely hard to be good parents.

Phasma takes her immunity and fucking RETIRES to make LOTS OF MONEY doing what she’s GOOD AT which is fighting and not dying.

Anyway they name the baby Padme. She has a COMPLETELY HIDEOUS temper and blue eyes like her great-grandfather.

Thanks for coming to my TED talk.

[entergamingxp]

Playing Celeste’s Farewell DLC is a masterpiece of High Resolution Play • Eurogamer.net

Happy Second Birthday Celeste! I’m late again, I know. But thanks to the Farewell update released last September, Celeste is imprinted on my 2019 as much as it was the year before. Because Farewell is brilliant.

Now, this is a small spoiler, but you have to hold down as Madeline falls, to speed her descent enough to just (just!) catch the falling spring block as it plummets away from you.

Holding down stretches Madeline, squashing and squeezing her as she accelerates – way too quick for comfort – towards a tiny, moving chunk of moon rock. This is right at the beginning of Farewell, Celeste’s DLC finale. And it’s precise: Panicky and stylish and more genuinely thrilling through the fingers than some whole games manage with their-canned, smoke-and-mirror bluster.

And even though I reckon I’m pretty fluent in Celeste – which I not only beat, but beat-beat-beat (those C-Sides!) – it took me ages to work out. Ages! Ages to consider pimping-up the dropping-down, that core part of a platformer’s rise and fall; its inhale-exhale. And this was before the really new stuff: The jellyfish parachutes and the blowfish and That Bird. Here was a problem of springs and spikes, Celeste’s bread-and-butter, and a long chasm I couldn’t seem to make it across, teasing out a new trick from a palette of movement I thought I already knew.

But Farewell is just getting started.

What unfolds thereafter is a mini-epic, practically a game unto itself that just keeps on extending, surprising, delighting, exhausting. Madeline is trying to find a friend, and this takes place on the Moon. As with Celeste Mountain, it’s a journey inwards as well as onwards. But this is more of a Majora’s moon, with its own hazy strangeness. With pinks and cyan, and distant star fields of starfish. With hi-hats and synth, then cello and violin. With platforms that bob like buoys and tight coral mazes that shine iridescent, like a sea shell’s inside. And, later on, a glitch.

A little way in there’s a drop – literal, musical, environmental – that I wish everyone could experience, an uprush ascent from darkness and synth into gleaming, blue-bloom luminescence. With tiny, glowing amoeba-creatures swimming through the air. Then, this chorus of strings like morning has broken.

Man, I love a good platformer! The feel of them. All that after-touch. A little more press on the jump button, before a quick release. A little more holding right, then a little less. All that in-air inertia management that makes the whole jumping arc feel analogue and alive, with the real, sticky physicality you get from holding down the run (or gun, or whatever) button throughout. All the kneading of the pad needed to leap.

And Celeste’s game-feel is one of my favourites, where each jump is a pitcher’s wind-up, a curving feint before a blink-fast dash elsewhere – any direction, whatever your momentum, no questions asked. And where walls are grabbed and clung to with the R-Trigger, and the Ueda-ish sense of tactile connection this builds. Where every animation has bounce. And, I’ve realised, where the movement feels so supple, granular; with so much bend and flex and nuance.

Because Farewell is calibrated from the off in the mode of Celeste’s hardest challenges (the beat-beat, and the beat-beat-beat), each screen feels like a level in itself: Advanced Classes in Celeste’s instrument of movement, demanding a new mastery, a subtlety of understanding of something you thought you already had down. It requires an attention to the particular, to increasingly small slivers of space-time, screen-inches compressed with micro-dramas that you half work out, half feel out. A little extra lean into a wall-side escalator, perhaps. A pocket of slack if I let go slightly later.

I’m not sure I’ve played another game in such high fidelity. With such high-resolution control. With enough depth that it can reveal a crouching dash jump – that was there all along – in the Core C-Side, the second bonus version of an already bonus level. And then in a post-game DLC like Farewell it can – impossibly, astoundingly – reveal another move midway (and it’s a doozy). It’s one of gaming’s all-time greatest, most robust and rewarding game-feels, I think. And Farewell feels like not just an expansion but an encore, an Out-With-A-Bang finale that manages to fold the old into the new.

So, all your favourite toys return, like the Celestial Jelly and the Hairy Brambles (not their official names) as old friends slightly changed (and sometimes coupled up). And the new additions feel indispensable on arrival, lending new rhythms and weights. The jellyfish gliders in particular, have this gratifying, dash-extending fwip and then a parachute whumph and then a languid, tugging glide that makes the air feel viscous and thick; with a soft hum of connection through the pad throughout. I suppose they make a thematic sort of half-sense too: adding some subaquatic float and suspension to what were already the flingiest, soaringest lines in gaming.

But all your favourite flavours of Celeste-ing return as well. One act is a key-hunt branching out from a central hub, like in Mirror Temple. Another hangs like a huge, suspended engine of movement for Madeline to arc in and around and over and under in one uninterrupted sequence; a C-Side unto itself. Sometimes, a room might be a breathless run of light-touch platforming that you skim over, like a stone on water. At others, an act will take the edges of an old mechanic – like the on-off acapella beat-blocks, and the gameplay kink that means they stay in when Madeline is in front of them – and embrace and extend it into a whole section of syncopated play, where you play in off-beats and in-betweens.

Special mention to the entire room given to a tiny aside to do with the bounce of a cloud, that plays like a joke told in jump.

And the things you do with springs.

Sometimes I’ll watch back my Switch recordings agape, dumbly repeating ‘No Way’ (and worse), slightly incredulous at the routines I somehow managed, too absorbed and in a state of tired automaticity to fully appreciate as I did them. Because the things you’re asked to do are amazing, absurd. Often, levels feel less like obstacle courses to overcome, than contraptions designed to require platforming badassery. Jumping beauty. Motion joy. As if screens were an inverse-engineered machinery of moments, a celebration of the wordless, ineffable pleasures of momentum, purified and accentuated in two dimensions (without the dilution and disruption of a z-axis and a camera). Like outrageous solos of space and timing – with elasticity and swing, with Matrix, anime style and flourish – but bottled and fixed by these challenges that necessitate them. Madeline and her trailing hair giving weight and shape to brilliant patterns of movement, like leaves giving shape to the wind.

(I am writing this in Autumn).

But, the other thing I like about platformers, about Celeste, about games, is that unique, thickened space they take place in. Where light and sound and feel are wound together, like threads of a rope, that tactile uber-texture when everything coheres into a compound, playable thing. Not as direct as synaesthesia, I don’t think, where one sense is felt in another; nor as literal as rhythm-action. But another thing that happens, triangulated from all these elements, forming somewhere between you and the screen. I’m sure there is a word for this – probably hyper-specific, probably German, probably GameFeelengeist or something – but I don’t know it. But I know that I’ve loaded up Celeste to dash around Reflection’s spacey caverns, playing life into its palette of emerald greens and crystalline blues.

And I know that in Farewell, the challenge is so high I just submit to the endeavour, the inevitability of death; engaging the determined, meditative half-focus required for these groundhog-loops of gameplay to slowly, surely improve. Entering that enclave of ever-time, that absorption primed with the potential of progress. Precise coils of gameplay being wound tight into fingers and thumbs. Stirring myself into the scene by repetition, accumulation, the whole thing gaining mass. So that talking about the music, or the graphics, or the game-feel in isolation doesn’t quite work.

Instead, there’s purple star fields. A pulse in the pad in time with a beat. A bird that swings like a lasso. Fluorescent shower-fall on a jelly umbrella. Bright arpeggios that rise and fall like waves alongside rhythms and patterns of time and space. But most of all, a thickening in the middle.

Do you remember in school, where one kid would hold their hands out, palms inwards, at about shoulder width apart?

Another kid – the accomplice – would stand opposite and hold their hands outside the first person’s, like brackets. Then the first kid, their hands on the inside, would try to squeeze out as hard as they could, to bring their arms apart. The second guy would be pushing their hands inwards to resist this. And now both are locked in an intense, straining stillness like in those movie scenes where someone is desperately pushing a knife to another person desperately resisting. Here though, it’s basically just foiling a clap.

And then, after a while, they release! And from this: magic. The first child’s arms are drifting automatically apart – now free and loose and unimpeded. But when he tries to bring them together again, there’s a stubbornness. Felt as a swell, a sphere, a something within his palms. A ball of force that plumps the air, like a Hadoken before it turns to flame.

And it reminds me of games, the way they happen; in your muscles as well as through your senses.

In Celeste, there’s also kindness. A reassuring postcard and a You Can Do It, a Campfire Conversation and now, in Farewell, a ‘Hello Strawberry’. There’s that bobble of the menus, and those marker-pen borders, and a new Assist Mode spiel, now re-written to be more inclusive. So many instances of care in this thing you push and press your way through, inflecting the whole experience, the tone of this world that you open up from a home screen.

So that what emerges – between the hands, after hours, in aggregate – is something else: a knot of associations that also feels like encouragement, a comfort, a strength. Like something good, an affirmation sounded-out in play and firmed up by effort. With a relatability and warmth not just spoken or stated, but solid and tactile, full-bodied, made of movement and input and response: What Celeste feels like whole.

I could have missed out! When I first played Celeste I nearly settled for all the strawberries, and maybe a few B-sides. Cashing out at the usual game-replete of A Pretty Solid Effort. If I’m honest, maybe my usual replete in general. But my cousin takes things lighter than me (example: he’s one of those guys who can go onto Netflix and just start watching things randomly) and his continued interest tipped me over into trying, and then succeeding, at something that at first seemed too hard; a challenge too far.

But I have an actual Celeste scarf that says You Can Do It. Because I did!

And now I’ve done Farewell, too. A generous gift of an experience, with new sounds and sights, and new ways to play. But it’s also a celebration, and a consolidation, of something brilliant: A game you hold between your hands, that feels like comfort, kindness, strength. First with the pad, and then just the feeling.

from EnterGamingXP https://entergamingxp.com/2020/02/playing-celestes-farewell-dlc-is-a-masterpiece-of-high-resolution-play-%e2%80%a2-eurogamer-net/?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=playing-celestes-farewell-dlc-is-a-masterpiece-of-high-resolution-play-%25e2%2580%25a2-eurogamer-net

[mikeyd1986]

MIKEY’S PERSONAL BLOG 143, February 2019

On Monday night, I went to my Boxing small group training session at CinFull Fitness. Quite a few people were running late so Cinamon and I were wondering if anyone was going to turn up for tonight’s class. Luckily, Jade, Patrick, James and Scarlett ended up coming in the end. Tonight’s workout consisted of: several boxing drills, med ball slams and kettle bell squats (5 reps +5 each round), 3 rounds of walking lunges, 10 squats and 10 push ups, one minute of jab box combos (increasing by 1-2 reps).

I was struggling a little tonight. Maybe it was due to my sleeping problems, lack of energy during the day, lack of air circulation, group performance anxiety, who knows? But I feel like my boxing technique is gradually improving. At times, I do miss a rep or forget a movement but I just keep going, keep trying and keep striving. Thankfully the weather outside was pretty mild and not overly hot so I could breathe and recover easily.

On Tuesday night, I did my Body Balance class with Astrid Christophersen at YMCA Casey RACE. The weather was acting particularly strange tonight. One minute it was clearing up, the next it delivered another downpour of rain. Luckily I was undercover inside the group fitness room when it did decide to come down. Tonight we ended up doing release number 68 which consists of tracks including Of The Night by Bastille, Elastic Heart by Sia, Come Get It Bae by Pharell Williams, Maps by Maroon 5 and Pretty Hurts by Beyonce.

It was generally a pretty cruisey release with a double Tai Chi Warm Up to start. Sun Salutations & Standing Strength (Mountain pose, Downward Facing Dog, Plank, Crocodile, Intense pose, Warrior 1 into Warrior 3. Triangle pose. Side Angle pose). Balance & Hip Openers (Eagle pose, Angel pose, Star pose, Divers pose, Frog pose, Swan pose with quad stretch). Pilates (Oblique twists with crunches, Extended toe taps, Bridge pose, Arm balances, Crocodile pose). Twists (Seated twist, Twisted Down Dog, Twisted Pyramid pose). Hamstrings (Supine Hamstring stretch, Turtle pose, Wide Legged Forward Fold). http://www.totallylesmills.com/site/BODYBALANCE

On Thursday morning, I had an appointment to see my psychiatrist Dr. Ricardo Peralta at Vita Healthcare in Mount Eliza. Today it honestly felt like I had a snowball of pressure mounting up inside of me. It didn’t help that I was feeling weary and restless either. It was difficult to tell if my medication (50mg Quetiapine) was actually having a benefit besides making me sleep for longer. Sadly it wasn’t doing much for my energy levels during the day as I’ve felt a steep decline this week.

The 50 minute drive from home to Vita Healthcare honestly felt like a chore possibly because I had a large to-do list to get through today. Annoyingly, I felt sleepy the entire time behind the wheel which meant that I had to dig up extra energy to concentrate and focus more on the road. I relaxed a little when I finally arrived at the clinic, though it didn’t take long for me to get really flustered and nervous. I guess I really didn’t want this appointment to be a waste of time and actually get my money’s worth. (Dr. Ricardo is NOT cheap to see but he’s worth it!).

It didn’t spend much time beating around the bush, I got straight to the heart of the matter: my sleeping problems and low energy levels. I asked him whether he knew of a sleep specialist that I could see in order to get a sleep study done and come up with an official diagnosis. Thankfully he did and he wrote me up a referral to see one located at Wattletree Consulting Rooms in Frankston. Now the next step will be to book an appointment with them and hopefully they can work out why my sleep has been so terrible.

I couldn’t explain why I was feeling so anxious today. Perhaps it could be related to the unstable and inconsistent weather this month, my poor sleeping patterns, not eating the right foods, my mood swings, high stress levels from work. Could be a whole lot of things. But things felt a lot more smoother today at the clinic with the receptionist processing my medicare rebate and booking another appointment for me. Unlike my last visit in which everything felt like it was up in the air. https://www.vitahealthcare.com.au/our-team/#ricardo

On Thursday night, I cooked a basic fish and chips with steamed vegetables for dinner. This was probably the easiest meal I’ve done so far and thank goodness for that because I haven’t been feeling particularly energetic recently. Following this recipe, you start by mixing chopped herbs, olive oil and lemon juice together. This will be the coating for your fish at the end. Then you can fry up the fish fillets in a frying pan. I bought the blue grenadier as they were on special at Coles. Whilst this is happening, you can cook up some frozen chips in the oven and steamed vegetables in the microwave. That’s pretty much it. https://www.mumslounge.com.au/lifestyle/food/lemon-herb-fish-fillets-recipe/

On Friday morning, I caught up with my Mum and her friend Jules for coffee at Degani Cranbourne Park. We spent an hour talking about our experiences with driving tests, Jules’ recent overseas trips to Scotland and the Northern Territory (Watch out for those crocs!) to our poor sleeping patterns and finding sustainable employment. It was a nice time even with all the visual and auditory distractions that a large shopping centre tends to bring.

On Friday night, Mum and I went out to the movies to see Escape Room at Village Cinemas Fountain Gate. *START SPOILERS* Directed by Adam Robitel (Insidious: The Last Key), this film combines elements from Saw, Cube and Final Destination and is based upon the idea of real-life escape rooms. Six strangers get send a mysterious package containing a black cube and once opened, they discover that they’re each invited to participate in an escape room challenge hosted by MINOS ESCAPE ROOMS. There is a cash prize of $10,000 up for grabs for the winner.

Let’s run through each of the strangers. Zoey Davis (Taylor Russell) is a quiet achiever, has a shy personality and university student studying Quantum Physics. Ben Miller (Logan Miller) works inside a store room at a local grocery store and is generally an arsehole to everyone. Jason Walker (Jay Ellis) is a stockbroker from a major corporation and is very cocky and arrogant. Mike Nolan (Tyler Labine) is the oldest and also the most likable and talkative of the bunch. Amanda Harper (Deborah Ann Woll) is a war survivor and has claustrophobia plus post-traumatic stress disorder. And Danny Khan (Nik Dodani) is a video game nerd, escape room veteran and very annoying (He just won’t shut up!).

Once they all arrive inside the waiting room, this is when the game actually begins. The objective is to find clues hidden around the room, solve puzzles and find a way to “escape” each room. But the twist here is that these rooms are designed to kill the participants inside. This first room for example becomes a giant furnace. The rooms themselves become more complex and elaborate as it goes on. The strangers also discover that they are actually connected to each other by the fact that each of them have been the sole survivor of a major traumatic event.

Later on, we also discover that the “game” is being controlled by a mysterious Game Master named Dr. WooTan Yu, who’s name seems to pop up everywhere in each of the rooms. Speaking of rooms, they are very creatively designed and easily the best feature of the film. My favourite would have to be a deadly bar complete with a billiard table and a liquor shelf. Each time the phone rings, an ear-piercing dial-tone noise can be heard and the room suddenly starts falling apart to reveal an elevator shaft on the outside. Then the classic song “Downtown” by Petula Clark starts playing and gets increasingly more distorted.

Like the films I mentioned before, each of the strangers starts to get knocked off one by one until there’s only two left. Of course the film doesn’t come to a simple conclusion but throws in plenty of twists and leaves it open to a future sequel. Besides the corny dialogue and paper-thin characters, I still really enjoyed what Escape Room had to offer in terms of the thrilling set pieces and a shadowy organisation pulling the strings. 7.5/10 *END SPOILERS* https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VXk5qYKpq0Q

“So we're different colours. And we're different creeds. And different people have different needs. I can't understand. What makes a man. Hate another man. Help me understand. People are people so why should it be. You and I should get along so awfully.” Depeche Mode - People Are People (1984)

“Now I'm not looking for absolution. Forgiveness for the things I do. But before you come to any conclusions. Try walking in my shoes. Try walking in my shoes. You'll stumble in my footsteps. Keep the same appointments I kept. If you try walking in my shoes. If you try walking in my shoes.” Depeche Mode - Walking In My Shoes (1993)

[misselaineousme-blog]

Environmental Gift Guide: More Thought, Less Waste

Halloween and Bonfire Night have come and gone. The nights are longer and temperatures colder. Shops have turned themselves over to gift wrap and bath sets, coloured lights and chocolate boxes, tinsel and trendy toys. Christmas is definitely on its way. If you’re concerned about reducing waste, how do you avoid adding to the tsunami of brightly coloured paper, plastic, and other bits and bobs that are about to land on our doorstep?

I originally tackled this question in a blog post last year, and while I think my suggestions are still sound—use a bit of creativity to wrap gifts and for the love of all that’s holy don’t use greeting cards or gift wrap with glitter—I have been pondering what else can be done.

They say it’s the thought that counts when it comes to gift giving, but how much thought has really gone into many of the items that end up under the tree, in a stocking, or given at an office gift exchange? It feels like Christmas has become an excuse for just getting something—anything—that is vaguely appropriate. We have conflated quantity with caring and adopted the attitude that something is better than nothing.

How to combat this while still participating in holiday traditions? I think much of it boils down to shopping mindfully rather than on autopilot. It’s asking the questions, “How long will this gift last? Is it something the recipient actually needs or wants?” It’s looking at the packaging: can it be recycled? It’s even going so far as to think about the disposal: is it the type of item that will break quickly and end up in a landfill before the end of January? Or was it built to last and could have a second life in a charity shop? Does the gift even have to be tangible at all? After all, we are living in an increasingly dematerialised world as films, books, and music shed their physical presence to take up residence in the Cloud.

With all this in mind, I’ve put together a list of some of my favourite eco (or eco-ish) gifts, and I hope it helps you find something for everyone on your list:

For the caffeine addict:

With 2.5 billion coffee cups disposed of every year in the UK, anything that can make a dent in this number is a big help. I like the cups by eCoffee: made from sustainable bamboo, they come in fun patterns (I’m partial to the William Morris designs), are incredibly lightweight, and are a great size for that morning cuppa. You could also consider getting a personalised mug or something  a bit different through Redbubble (useful if your recipient is a fan of pop culture references).

Looking for a bit extra?  Fairtrade tea or coffee is a nice stocking filler, or a voucher to a friend or family member’s favourite café is a great way to reduce waste while letting them get exactly what they want.  

For the sporty:

There are so many stylish reusable water bottles out there now that you are spoiled for choice when it comes to shopping for the athlete in your life: metal, BPA-free plastic, foldable … helping to avoid single-use plastics is a gift that benefits everyone.

For those with—or without—a green thumb:

I love the idea behind Seedball: native wildflower seeds are wrapped up in a bit of clay, chilli powder is used to keep the insects away, and compost to give the seeds a head start. They come packaged in a lovely tin that is perfect for a stocking, or buy one of the sets to give as a main present. Simply sow the seeds on the ground or stick a few balls in a pot to enjoy flowers throughout the year.

This next gift suggestion is a bit unusual but bear with me: a compost bin. If your recipient’s garden has the space and it’s something they’ve shown an interest in but haven’t gotten around to getting yet themselves, a basic Dalek-style compost bin could be just the ticket. Bow or ribbon optional.

For the explorer:

Giving experiences that can be used throughout the year is a great way to almost completely eliminate Christmas waste while also helping the recipient make lasting memories. You’ll have science on your side too: it’s been shown that people tend to gain greater happiness from experiences rather than things. To this end, consider giving an annual membership to the National Trust, English Heritage, or the British Museum (the latter is one of my favourite gifts to find under the tree!).  Or think local: in our neck of the woods there’s Westonbirt Arboretum, Bristol Zoo, Bowood House, and Longleat.

For the wildlife lover:

Gifts for the garden are the type that keep giving: bee houses, bat houses, bird feeders, and nest boxes help provide wildlife habitat and give the recipient something to watch out for during the year. Bonus points: help them install it!

There’s also adopting an animal. Not for real, of course (dogs, cats, and guinea pigs are for life, not just Christmas), but through a charity such as the Wildlife Trusts. Seals, puffins, and red squirrels are all up for grabs, and most wildlife charities will offer something similar.

For the house proud:

I was introduced to Weaver Green’s products earlier this year and absolutely love that they have managed to turn recycled plastic bottles into stunning and stylish rugs, cushions, blankets, and handbags. The colours and designs are easy on the eyes, and despite being made from plastic the rugs are soft under foot. I can also vouch that the rugs clean up easy so they’re ideal in a kitchen or bathroom, and while I haven’t tried them outside, they are advertised as being versatile.

For children:

In addition to my passion for making the environment a better place, I am also a firm believer in gender equality. While culture is slowly (ever so slowly) changing, one place where we have more direct control is the toy box. Please consider the gifts you give your children and grandchildren, nieces and nephews, and any kids you shop for: do they perpetuate gender stereotypes? Chemistry sets, Legos, superheroes, and dinosaurs are not just for boys. Cooking, kitchens, cuddly toys, and crafts are not just for girls. While it’s important to consider if a gift is age appropriate, the gender of the recipient shouldn’t factor into your decision.

When giving gifts to children in particular, a big question to consider is whether the item can easily be handed down or taken to a charity shop once it’s outgrown (in other words, try to avoid the plastic toys that break if you look at them the wrong way). In Chippenham, Hall’s Emporium of Fancy Goods and Clever Minds have a great selection of children’s gifts. Please just consider breaking out of the pink-and-blue prison.  

For those who need to relax:

Vouchers to a local spa or beauty treatment are always welcome (at least in my household!). If you can support an independent business as well, then so much the better.

The traditional bath set can also be used for some good: I discovered Human+Kind this summer and besides liking their tagline (“skincare with a conscience”), their products smell divine and feel great.

For the reader:

If you know that your intended recipient has a favourite magazine that they splurge on at the newsstand, consider giving them a 6- or 12-month subscription to it. Even less waste: can it be converted to a subscription that can be read on their tablet or eReader?

One of the best gifts I ever received was an eReader and I am never without my Kindle. If you know what type of eReader your recipient has, vouchers for books are always welcome (hint, hint).

For the movie buff:

There are so many ways to enjoy television programmes and films today, whether your recipient prefers watching from the comfort of home or wants a night out. You can purchase a gift card for Netflix, or consider a monthly or annual membership to the cinema through something like Odeon Limitless, Cineworld Unlimited, or Picturehouse (check which is closest to your friend or family member).

For those who like funky feet:

A fashion for brightly coloured socks has swept the nation over the past several years and you don’t have to look far to find fun socks made out of bamboo, silk, or even merino wool.  If you want your gift to go twice as far, consider supporting Stand4Socks: each pattern helps support a different topic such as safe water, homelessness, and gender equality.

For those who have everything:

Who Gives a Crap isn’t a company I’ve tried myself, but they produce a range of forest-friendly toilet paper, tissues, and paper towels. One of the most eye-opening books I’ve ever read was Rose George’s The Big Necessity. Quite simply it’s a book about toilets … and how nearly half of the world doesn’t have proper sanitation. The health and social problems this causes cannot be understated, which is why Who Gives a Crap and their promise to use half their profits build loos in developing countries caught my eye.

This may be even more unusual than the toilet paper: bees’ wax infused wraps. These pieces of fabric can be used in place of cling film to help cut down on single-use plastic.

Everything else: Still looking for that certain something?  

Gift Cards: Maybe I’m jaded, but I think one of the reasons Christmas has gotten a bit out of hand is because people want the social media friendly image of a tree surrounded by piles of presents. A gift card in an envelope doesn’t make quite the same impression, but it almost completely reduces packaging waste, doesn’t take up space or need to be dusted, and in many cases lets the recipient choose exactly what they want. I understand wanting to give children something to open, but I would hope adults can get a bit of Christmas joy without the wrapping paper and bows.

Experiences: Besides gifts of annual memberships, there are so many other days out that you can treat friends and family to, from hot air balloon rides to afternoon tea to a day at the races. Virgin and Woodmansterne offer packages, or you can put together your own custom surprise (Jon is very good at this!).

Learning: Whether blowing glass, sewing, or decorating cakes, there are enough how-to courses out there to tempt even the pickiest of recipients (chocolate making perhaps?). Just visit Google for the nearest class.

Charity: The musical Avenue Q said it best: “When you help others, you can’t help helping yourself.” There are so many worthwhile charities that you can donate to in the name of your recipient. Besides the Adopt-an-Animal schemes already mentioned, you can have a tree or two planted by the Woodland Trust, purchase a goat (or chicken or school books) through Oxfam Unwrapped, or even subscribe someone to the Big Issue. Check out Guide Star to see how funds are spent.

DIY: Don’t overlook making something yourself: if you have a bit of spare time and a favourite recipe, a homemade treat is always welcome. Or consider actual DIY—is there something that a friend or family member needs done around the house that you can help with?

And finally … I admit I'm a big fan of online shopping, but when it comes to gifts I think shopping local as much as possible is a great way to help businesses within the community. And don’t overlook supporting independent artists at seasonal craft fairs. Indeed, if this post has encouraged you to look for something a little different, consider visiting the Cricklade Christmas Fair this Sunday (12 November) at Cricklade Leisure Centre (Stones Lane, Cricklade, SN6 6JW). I’ll be there selling a collection Christmas tags designed to be kept rather than binned—stop by and say hello.

[rubbishwalks]

Environmental Gift Guide: More Thought, Less Waste

Halloween and Bonfire Night have come and gone. The nights are longer and temperatures colder. Shops have turned themselves over to gift wrap and bath sets, coloured lights and chocolate boxes, tinsel and trendy toys. Christmas is definitely on its way. If you’re concerned about reducing waste, how do you avoid adding to the tsunami of brightly coloured paper, plastic, and other bits and bobs that are about to land on our doorstep?

I originally tackled this question in a blog post last year, and while I think my suggestions are still sound—use a bit of creativity to wrap gifts and for the love of all that’s holy don’t use greeting cards or gift wrap with glitter—I have been pondering what else can be done.

They say it’s the thought that counts when it comes to gift giving, but how much thought has really gone into many of the items that end up under the tree, in a stocking, or given at an office gift exchange? It feels like Christmas has become an excuse for just getting something—anything—that is vaguely appropriate. We have conflated quantity with caring and adopted the attitude that something is better than nothing.

How to combat this while still participating in holiday traditions? I think much of it boils down to shopping mindfully rather than on autopilot. It’s asking the questions, “How long will this gift last? Is it something the recipient actually needs or wants?” It’s looking at the packaging: can it be recycled? It’s even going so far as to think about the disposal: is it the type of item that will break quickly and end up in a landfill before the end of January? Or was it built to last and could have a second life in a charity shop? Does the gift even have to be tangible at all? After all, we are living in an increasingly dematerialised world as films, books, and music shed their physical presence to take up residence in the Cloud.

With all this in mind, I’ve put together a list of some of my favourite eco (or eco-ish) gifts, and I hope it helps you find something for everyone on your list:

For the caffeine addict:

With 2.5 billion coffee cups disposed of every year in the UK, anything that can make a dent in this number is a big help. I like the cups by eCoffee: made from sustainable bamboo, they come in fun patterns (I’m partial to the William Morris designs), are incredibly lightweight, and are a great size for that morning cuppa. You could also consider getting a personalised mug or something  a bit different through Redbubble (useful if your recipient is a fan of pop culture references).

Looking for a bit extra?  Fairtrade tea or coffee is a nice stocking filler, or a voucher to a friend or family member’s favourite café is a great way to reduce waste while letting them get exactly what they want.  

 For the sporty:

There are so many stylish reusable water bottles out there now that you are spoiled for choice when it comes to shopping for the athlete in your life: metal, BPA-free plastic, foldable … helping to avoid single-use plastics is a gift that benefits everyone.

For those with—or without—a green thumb:

I love the idea behind Seedball: native wildflower seeds are wrapped up in a bit of clay, chilli powder is used to keep the insects away, and compost to give the seeds a head start. They come packaged in a lovely tin that is perfect for a stocking, or buy one of the sets to give as a main present. Simply sow the seeds on the ground or stick a few balls in a pot to enjoy flowers throughout the year.

This next gift suggestion is a bit unusual but bear with me: a compost bin. If your recipient’s garden has the space and it’s something they’ve shown an interest in but haven’t gotten around to getting yet themselves, a basic Dalek-style compost bin could be just the ticket. Bow or ribbon optional.

 For the explorer:

Giving experiences that can be used throughout the year is a great way to almost completely eliminate Christmas waste while also helping the recipient make lasting memories. You’ll have science on your side too: it’s been shown that people tend to gain greater happiness from experiences rather than things. To this end, consider giving an annual membership to the National Trust, English Heritage, or the British Museum (the latter is one of my favourite gifts to find under the tree!).  Or think local: in our neck of the woods there’s Westonbirt Arboretum, Bristol Zoo, Bowood House, and Longleat.

For the wildlife lover:

Gifts for the garden are the type that keep giving: bee houses, bat houses, bird feeders, and nest boxes help provide wildlife habitat and give the recipient something to watch out for during the year. Bonus points: help them install it!

There’s also adopting an animal. Not for real, of course (dogs, cats, and guinea pigs are for life, not just Christmas), but through a charity such as the Wildlife Trusts. Seals, puffins, and red squirrels are all up for grabs, and most wildlife charities will offer something similar.

 For the house proud:

I was introduced to Weaver Green’s products earlier this year and absolutely love that they have managed to turn recycled plastic bottles into stunning and stylish rugs, cushions, blankets, and handbags. The colours and designs are easy on the eyes, and despite being made from plastic the rugs are soft under foot. I can also vouch that the rugs clean up easy so they’re ideal in a kitchen or bathroom, and while I haven’t tried them outside, they are advertised as being versatile.

For children:

In addition to my passion for making the environment a better place, I am also a firm believer in gender equality. While culture is slowly (ever so slowly) changing, one place where we have more direct control is the toy box. Please consider the gifts you give your children and grandchildren, nieces and nephews, and any kids you shop for: do they perpetuate gender stereotypes? Chemistry sets, Legos, superheroes, and dinosaurs are not just for boys. Cooking, kitchens, cuddly toys, and crafts are not just for girls. While it’s important to consider if a gift is age appropriate, the gender of the recipient shouldn’t factor into your decision.

When giving gifts to children in particular, a big question to consider is whether the item can easily be handed down or taken to a charity shop once it’s outgrown (in other words, try to avoid the plastic toys that break if you look at them the wrong way). In Chippenham, Hall’s Emporium of Fancy Goods and Clever Minds have a great selection of children’s gifts. Please just consider breaking out of the pink-and-blue prison.  

For those who need to relax:

Vouchers to a local spa or beauty treatment are always welcome (at least in my household!). If you can support an independent business as well, then so much the better.

The traditional bath set can also be used for some good: I discovered Human+Kind this summer and besides liking their tagline (“skincare with a conscience”), their products smell divine and feel great.

 For the reader:

If you know that your intended recipient has a favourite magazine that they splurge on at the newsstand, consider giving them a 6- or 12-month subscription to it. Even less waste: can it be converted to a subscription that can be read on their tablet or eReader?

One of the best gifts I ever received was an eReader and I am never without my Kindle. If you know what type of eReader your recipient has, vouchers for books are always welcome (hint, hint).

For the movie buff:

There are so many ways to enjoy television programmes and films today, whether your recipient prefers watching from the comfort of home or wants a night out. You can purchase a gift card for Netflix, or consider a monthly or annual membership to the cinema through something like Odeon Limitless, Cineworld Unlimited, or Picturehouse (check which is closest to your friend or family member).

 For those who like funky feet:

A fashion for brightly coloured socks has swept the nation over the past several years and you don’t have to look far to find fun socks made out of bamboo, silk, or even merino wool.  If you want your gift to go twice as far, consider supporting Stand4Socks: each pattern helps support a different topic such as safe water, homelessness, and gender equality.

 For those who have everything:

Who Gives a Crap isn’t a company I’ve tried myself, but they produce a range of forest-friendly toilet paper, tissues, and paper towels. One of the most eye-opening books I’ve ever read was Rose George’s The Big Necessity. Quite simply it’s a book about toilets … and how nearly half of the world doesn’t have proper sanitation. The health and social problems this causes cannot be understated, which is why Who Gives a Crap and their promise to use half their profits build loos in developing countries caught my eye.

This may be even more unusual than the toilet paper: bees’ wax infused wraps. These pieces of fabric can be used in place of cling film to help cut down on single-use plastic.

Everything else: Still looking for that certain something?  

Gift Cards: Maybe I’m jaded, but I think one of the reasons Christmas has gotten a bit out of hand is because people want the social media friendly image of a tree surrounded by piles of presents. A gift card in an envelope doesn’t make quite the same impression, but it almost completely reduces packaging waste, doesn’t take up space or need to be dusted, and in many cases lets the recipient choose exactly what they want. I understand wanting to give children something to open, but I would hope adults can get a bit of Christmas joy without the wrapping paper and bows.

Experiences: Besides gifts of annual memberships, there are so many other days out that you can treat friends and family to, from hot air balloon rides to afternoon tea to a day at the races. Virgin and Woodmansterne offer packages, or you can put together your own custom surprise (Jon is very good at this!).

Learning: Whether blowing glass, sewing, or decorating cakes, there are enough how-to courses out there to tempt even the pickiest of recipients (chocolate making perhaps?). Just visit Google for the nearest class.

Charity: The musical Avenue Q said it best: “When you help others, you can’t help helping yourself.” There are so many worthwhile charities that you can donate to in the name of your recipient. Besides the Adopt-an-Animal schemes already mentioned, you can have a tree or two planted by the Woodland Trust, purchase a goat (or chicken or school books) through Oxfam Unwrapped, or even subscribe someone to the Big Issue. Check out Guide Star to see how funds are spent.

DIY: Don’t overlook making something yourself: if you have a bit of spare time and a favourite recipe, a homemade treat is always welcome. Or consider actual DIY—is there something that a friend or family member needs done around the house that you can help with?

And finally … I admit I'm a big fan of online shopping, but when it comes to gifts I think shopping local as much as possible is a great way to help businesses within the community. And don’t overlook supporting independent artists at seasonal craft fairs. Indeed, if this post has encouraged you to look for something a little different, consider visiting the Cricklade Christmas Fair this Sunday (12 November) at Cricklade Leisure Centre (Stones Lane, Cricklade, SN6 6JW). I’ll be there selling a collection Christmas tags designed to be kept rather than binned—stop by and say hello.