#woke up this morning ready to talk about the lightning balls in the brain…

[mollywog]

Me: just so we’re clear. We’re not going to be able to make an actual functioning brain…

5 yo: 😮😠😡

[egcdeath]

wrong place, wrong time

summary: a drunken mishap leads you to reconcile with someone from your past. (based off this prompt)

pairing: andy barber x reader 

word count: 2.1k

author’s note: this fic has been sitting in my drafts, half finished, for like months. i hope you enjoy!

warnings: extremely brief mention of cheating

“I just think things would be better if we… you know, saw other people,” Oliver explained through the phone. 

You sighed dejectedly into the microphone, before deciding to hang up, and aggressively tossing your phone onto the leather seat next to you. You’d already had a shit day at work, and you really didn’t think that you could handle all of this today. Especially considering that you were almost certain that there was the hint of a feminine giggle in the background of that call.

You’d been expecting this for a while, your relationship with Oliver had been falling apart- slowly but surely- for a few months now, and he was ‘working late’ way too many nights for you not to be the slightest bit suspicious. But it still hurt, you were now single, and you’d essentially wasted a precious year of your life with a douchebag who ended up leaving you anyway.

You pressed your foot on the gas, and began your drive back home, before telling yourself fuck it, and deciding to turn onto a side road so you could head to your local pub. 

-----

Several drinks later, you were extremely drunk. From that point on, everything was a bit of a blur.

You stumbled out of the bar (against your own will? You vaguely remember someone telling you that you needed to leave), sat in the back of an Uber (how much did you tell them? Probably too much), arrived at your home (but why weren’t your keys working?).

Things were a bit less blurry here. You can remember yourself repeatedly stabbing your keys into the door, and when that didn’t seem to work, deciding to hoist yourself over your fence, and get in through the back.

During this whole ordeal, you tripped over a seat on the patio, losing a shoe in doing so, and nearly fell into a pool, since when did my house have a pool? You ignored that thought, then opened the back door, getting in with no resistance. 

You hobbled inside, closed the door behind you, then stumbled up the stairs, before finally finding your (?) bedroom. You flopped down in bed before realizing that you really needed to pee, and as you went to go find your bathroom, everything seemed to go black. 

----

You woke up extremely disoriented in a vaguely familiar bathtub. It faintly smelled of pine, and possibly a hint of vanilla. The tub had a modern and sleek look, yet appeared to be as sterile as a hospital room. This was absolutely not your home. But it possibly belonged to someone you knew. The tiles lining the wall did seem to ring a bell somewhere deep in the foggy abyss of your hungover brain. 

As you sat up, you groaned due to the consistent pulsing in your head. This had to be one of the worst hangovers you’d had in a while, and you were lucky that you didn’t lean over and empty the contents of your stomach right that instant.

“Stupid fucking Y/N,” you whispered to yourself. “You’re lucky all of your organs are still intact.” After stating this, you glanced down at your torso just to make sure. But a larger question still remained, where were you? Did you hook up with someone? Did you just randomly break into someone’s home? That’s a little ridiculous. Who would do something like that?

Apparently, drunk you would. In the process of exiting the tub, you concluded that you absolutely were in someone elses' gargantuan of a home, and that that person was undoubtedly down the hall, taking a phone call. Also, you were definitely missing a shoe.

You glared at yourself in the mirror, smeared makeup on your face, hair that looked so frizzy that you may as well have been struck by lightning, and of course the overwhelming scent of dry liquor that seemed to be seeping out of your skin. You turned on the sink and splashed your face, trying to completely wake up, and to partially figure out if this was real life, or just a horrible dream. 

“Fuck!” you exclaimed out loud to yourself. How would you even get out of this situation alive? Perhaps you could find a window to jump out of. No, too dangerous. Hide in the bathroom until the man leaves? Well, everyone has to go to the bathroom at some point. Leave without being spotted? Mhm, very likely. Go talk to the homeowner? It doesn’t seem like you have any other option right now. You internally screamed at yourself for being so reckless, especially having gone through all of this drama for a guy who didn’t deserve one ounce of your attention.

You slipped off your remaining shoe, then slowly made your way out of the bathroom, peeking behind the doorway to see if the coast was clear, and trying to plan your explanation in the process. As you peered around, searching for the quickest and easiest exit, you realized just how familiar the home was. But what really did it for you was a painting on the wall. 

This was Andy Barber’s home. The same man you hooked up with a few times before ghosting. You sighed exasperatedly at your own poor decision making for what felt like the millionth time that morning.

You had to get the hell out of here. Fast. Lost shoe be damned.

You somewhat remembered the floor plan, so managing to get out unnoticed began to seem just a tad bit more possible. You began to jog it down the hall, trying not to be too heavy footed as you went, in the event that Andy was standing in the eyeline of one of the open doors. Unfortunately for you, in the midst of your beeline down the hall, you were spotted. 

“What the..? You know what Lynn, I’ll call you back in a bit.”

“I can explain! Don’t like… kill me or something. I promise you that this is just a big misunderstanding,” you were speaking without really processing anything that you were saying. You turned to face the man, and couldn’t help but to smirk a bit at the sight of him. You forgot just how attractive he was, with a full beard, fluffy hair, and soft blue eyes that seemed to be boring straight into your soul from across the room. Not to mention his sculpted body, which you swore you could make out beneath his sweatpants, and worn white shirt. Really, Y/N? First you ghost a man, break into his home a year later, and now you’re objectifying him? 

You moved towards the door and began to speak again, your words flowing out at a million miles per minute, “Uhm, so long story short, I basically got really drunk last night, and I thought your house was mine, so I kinda broke in. But I’ll be seeing myself out now,” You gave a curt smile, and looked towards the stairs. “Before I go, any chance that you’ve seen my left shoe somewhere around here?”

It was clear that Andy was very confused, but as you read his face, you could see that he was far more intrigued than angry. “Hey, not so fast.” He approached you quickly, his eyebrows lifting in surprise, and his mouth gaping open slightly. “No fuckin’ way. Y/N?”

You scratched the back of your head awkwardly and nodded, “yeah.” 

“You’re not getting off the hook that easily. Lucky for you, I was about to make breakfast, aaaand I’m not totally opposed to being joined,” he gave you a genuine smile, and a playful little shrug. 

“That’s fine with me but- this sounds kinda strange- can I use your shower first?”

“Go right ahead. Mi casa su casa, right? I mean, kinda sounds like that’s what you were thinking last night,” Andy peered at you inquisitively at this, “I’m just kidding. Feel free to use anything you need.”

You couldn’t even blame Andy for his passive aggression, but that didn’t stop you from sulking the whole way back into the bathroom.

----

“I forgot how good your water pressure is,” you announced while coming down the stairs, clad in a college hoodie that you’d found in the depths of Andy’s closet, and shorts that were just a tad too large for you.

“Thanks, I guess?” Andy flipped a pancake, then turned to get a good look at you. 

“You’re welcome. It smells so good down here,” you slipped into a barstool at his granite island, and observed him while he cooked, “so... you still live here alone?” You asked while you were passed a mug of coffee.

“Well, yeah. I mean that’s kind of what happens after your wife and son die.”

“Uhm.. sorry. For bringing that up again,” you glanced down awkwardly at your dark drink. 

“It’s okay, they’ve been gone for a while,” he sat down at his seat, setting down a plate of food for you and himself. “What’ve you been up to? Apart from breaking and entering, of course.”

“Ha ha, very funny,” you began, cutting into a syrup-soaked pancake. “You’re no saint either. I can’t think of anyone in their right mind who would gladly break bread with someone who drunkenly broke into their home.”

“That’s fair,” Andy stated, almost dismissively. “But it's not like we’re total strangers. We have history.”

You scoffed at this, “like hell we do,” you muttered. “Anyway, things with me have been pretty boring. Same job. I had a boyfriend, but he just dumped me like, 12 hour ago. I’m pretty sure that he’s been cheating on me for like, the past four months.”

“That sucks,” Andy commented, shoveling a piece of pancake into his mouth. 

“Yeah, it does. How about you?”

“You know, same old. Still an ADA, still getting messages from random people about that trial, and of course, still perpetually lonely.”

“By no means do I mean to impede, but maybe you’d be a little less lonely if you let people in,” you suggested, looking up from your food to Andy, whose face gave away the offense he was feeling, “I said maybe.”

“What do you mean?” He questioned, brows furrowing.

“Come on, Andrew. You know exactly what I mean. Like with us, I thought everything was going perfectly well, until I was half asleep and you were telling me that you weren’t ready to commit. Literally moments after you were balls-deep in me.”

“Don’t call me that, Y/N,” Andy squinted at you in agitation. “Is that why you stopped picking up my calls?”

“What do you think?”

He sighed softly, “If it’s any consolation, I’ve been trying to do better. I talk to a… counselor… every now and then. Everything’s just been different ever since they passed, you know? It’s hard to form connections after your most intimate ones disappear in the blink of an eye.”

You frowned a bit at the man, and set down your fork. “I get it. I’m sorry.”

“Do you, though? Get it?”

“Not really. I was just trying to be supportive,” you turned a bit in your seat to get a better view of Andy. “I just wonder if we had this conversation a year ago if you and I would be in a better position now. I really liked you a lot.”

Andy was silent for a moment, and observed you pensively. “Let’s try again, then. It seems like you and I both are ready for something new.”

“Oh Andy,” you rubbed the back of your neck anxiously. “I just got out of a relationship less than a day ago.”

“Then we can take this, whatever it might end up being, slow. It would be nice to have a friend around who doesn’t just want to talk about work, and tell me that they’re sorry for my loss.”

You nodded, “I’ll probably need a shoulder to cry on at some point sooner than later.”

“So... friends?”

“Friends,” you agreed with a smile and a lift of your shoulders. 

Part of you hoped that maybe, just maybe, this could be the start of something great.

[gumnut-logic]

We’ll Be Home For Christmas 5.1

Title: We’ll be home for Christmas

Day Five – Here on Tracy Island – Part 1 Prologue | 1.1 | 1.2 | 2.1 | 2.2 | 2.3 | 3.1 | 3.2 | 3.3 | 3.4 | 3.5 | 4.1 | 4.2 | 4.3 | 4.4 | 4.5 | 4.6 | 5.1

Author: Gumnut

20 Jun 2020

Fandom: Thunderbirds Are Go 2015/ Thunderbirds TOS

Rating: Teen

Summary: The boys can’t fly home for Christmas, so they have to find another way.

Word count: 3313

Spoilers & warnings: language and so, so much fluff. Science!Gordon. Artist!Virgil, Minor various ships, mostly background.

Timeline: Christmas Season 3, I have also kinda ignored the main storyline of Season 3. The boys needed a break, so I gave them one. Post season 3B, before Season 3C cos I started this fic before we saw it.

Author’s note: For @scattergraph​​​​​. This is my 2019 TAG Secret Santa fic :D

No, I haven’t forgotten about this fic, and yes, it hit the six month mark about two weeks ago. I started writing this 8 Dec 2019. I’m nearly there.

Landmark, though. It is now officially my longest Thunderbirds fic, overtaking Gentle Rain today at around 60,000 words, depending on which word processing program it is sitting in. Never expected it to be this long.

This chapter pretty much wrote itself. It is almost like a role call of the five brothers and their states of mind. So a little bit of all the bros in this. I hope you enjoy.

Many thanks to @i-am-chidorixblossom​​​ @scribbles97​​​​​ and @onereyofstarlight​​​​​ for reading through various bits, fielding my many wibblies, and for all their wonderful support.

Disclaimer: Mine? You’ve got to be kidding. Money? Don’t have any, don’t bother.

-o-o-o-

Day Five: Here on Tracy Island

Virgil woke late the next morning. It was a pleasant awakening, slipping from deep sleep to doze to a peaceful warmth beneath the covers. His room was dark. Darker than his cabin on A Little Lightning and with decidedly less sway.

He lay there for a while, enjoying the lack of need to get up and do anything and the absence of pain. He had slept the sleep of the dead and was thoroughly rested. There was something to be said about sleeping in your own bed at home that no holiday anywhere could provide.

But honestly, he wasn’t one to sit and do nothing for long, his brain kicking into gear while he lay there, listing off things waiting to be done. A visit to Two to reassure himself she had been checked over and was ready should she be needed. Not that he didn’t trust his family, it was just for his own peace of mind.

He should be able to get away with it so long as he didn’t spend too much time down there.

It took him a full half an hour of random rumination to realise that it was Christmas Day.

Oh shit.

The clock said eleven am.

His family...

He sat up abruptly and was thoroughly reminded of how stupid such a move was.

Oh, for the love of...

He grunted and rolled over until his face was smothered in his pillow.

The medic in his brain listed off the reasons why he shouldn’t have done that and why he needed to be careful and, goddamnit, he was sick of this. It was only an appendix, for crying out loud.

Stupid surgery.

That could have been so much worse.

He was being a spoilt child.

He let out a breath into his pillow, its warmth wrapping around his face. Another week and he would be fine.

But now, it was eleven oh five on Christmas morning and he was holding his family up.

He clambered out of bed with minimal complaint from his body, into the shower, a shave and into his familiar red flannel, jeans and boots.

It was such a comfort to be home.

He blow-dried his hair, gelled it up and made himself presentable.

The man who stared at him from his bathroom mirror was one appendix less and a whole pile of experience more.

He hummed to himself, tasting the notes in his throat. He could feel the soft whale skin under his fingertips, hear the lap of the water, the breeze in his hair...

And the music.

His eyes were closed without permission, the imagery taking over his mind. His fingers tapped against the bathroom vanity marking out the beat and rhythm of what he was trying to say, the pictures warping into abstract and lack of understanding.

Salty and long spoken, the notes repeated.

He didn’t know how long he stood there under the bathroom light, eyes seeing another world somewhere below the ocean surface.

By the time he shook off the haze it was eleven forty-five.

Almost lunchtime.

Alan would be foaming at the bit.

He pushed himself away from the sink and killed the light. Walking carefully across his room, he shook himself, rolling his shoulders. Get it together, Virgil. Your family is waiting for you.

Out through the door, down the corridor and, screw the stairs, he was taking the elevator.

It swallowed him whole.

-o-o-o-

Gordon had been up since before the sun. It was a sign that he was home. A session in the pool brought familiarity into the equation. There was definitely a difference between swimming in the pool versus the ocean and it had nothing to do with water salinity.

The ocean was beautiful and he adored it. But the pool sported no threat, no need to monitor his surroundings beyond the presence of a mischievous brother or two, leaving him to be able to focus on his stroke and let his mind wander.

The pleasant warmth of well used muscles pulling him forward through the water, simple thought processing...and considering the last few days, there were a lot of thoughts awaiting examination.

Some he had managed while piloting A Little Lightning on the home stretch, but there were still more needing answers and tactical decisions.

Sam. Mel. Scott. John. Virgil.

As far as he knew, Scott was still planning on inviting the neighbours over today. That would place Sam within reach of the apparently resistant Virgil.

He understood where both men were coming from. Virgil needed time and Sam was just a ball of eager energy.

Gordon was stuck between the two.

Push came to shove, he would side with Virgil regardless. He had too. But he really didn’t want to be divisive. If Virgil would talk just a little, it would help not only Sam and himself, but it might assuage the ball of worried energy that was Scott.

His arms sliced through water until he reached the end of the lane, his body automatically flipping and turning into the push off surge in the opposite direction. Air, splash and his hands slicing through the water again.

Okay, he would admit that he was worried himself. At first it was just amazing. His brother could sing to whales! A breakthrough. But yesterday he witnessed exactly how spaced Virgil became when singing and everything screamed wary. Humpback whales were beautiful creatures, but so big and so possibly unintentionally dangerous.

He couldn’t let Virgil anywhere near a whale alone. It just wasn’t safe. There was so much they didn’t know and the urge to protect his gentle brother just swelled in his heart.

They needed to investigate further. Find out exactly what was going on. Make sure his brother was safe. That it didn’t affect any water rescues.

They couldn’t afford to have Virgil spacing out in the ocean at random. As it was, Gordon wasn’t going to let Virgil anywhere near the ocean during rescues for the foreseeable future. He could stay up in Two.

Safe.

Whale song could travel around the globe.

His native realm had become a hazard for his big brother and that was unacceptable.

They had to find out what was going on.

John and Eos had made a good start, but Sam and himself needed to investigate further and soon.

Virgil needed to cooperate for his own safety.

Gordon broke his stroke, pushed himself to the side of the pool and rested his head on the concrete a moment, letting his body float randomly.

Blood pumped through his ears, his heart still running at exercise rate.

He needed to convince Virgil.

Somehow.

-o-o-o-

Scott revelled in the early dawn light. His feet pounded on his wonderfully familiar route around the Island. A trek he hadn’t laid eyes on for a week.

His runners crunched volcanic gravel beneath them.

The sun was just rising on Christmas Day, the beautiful weather hanging strong, the sea a stretch of glass disappearing off into the horizon. His current trajectory pointed him directly south where he knew beyond the glass lay Raoul Island. A single spot in a sea of blue, so similar to the even tinier spot that was Tracy Island.

Same sea of blue.

A pokey tree appeared on the side of the track, its red flowers quite glorious in the morning sun, and he found himself grinning. Sure, he knew the correct name of the pōhutukawa tree, but Alan’s name was so much easier to pronounce and it made Mel laugh.

His legs took the strain as he jogged up the rapidly steepening trail.

If he was honest with himself, the whole no strings attached thing was a lie. He found himself thinking about the woman more the longer they were away from Raoul.

And they only left yesterday.

As soon as the sun was high enough in the sky to be polite, he would be contacting Raoul with his invitation to her, Sam and Liam. It wasn’t the only time he had invited people to the Island, they weren’t entirely hermits, but it was rare and the first time in a long time.

And he was so looking forward to it.

Penny and Parker were due after breakfast as was the tradition. As soon as everyone was awake, they would have their present opening party, always a major family event. More for the company and laughter than the presents themselves.

He could almost hear Gordon declaring it ‘Tracy style’ complete with the arm movements to compliment the claim.

But Mel...it was like he was excited to show her the Island, perhaps because he knew she would be very interested in the ecosystem that had developed here since their father had begun repairing it over a decade ago.

And he was staring at it right now as he followed the path around the back of the Island. Pokey trees, palms and ferns were everywhere a foothold was available. Scott knew very little about their ecosystem beyond the need to keep it safe. Gordon and Virgil were the ones who knew most about it among the brothers. Gordon focussed on the sea and Virgil sometimes helped out with animal numbers and photography for the scientific group.

But Mel hadn’t been here since Dad...

He grunted and hurdled a rock he hurdled every morning as the slope inverted and started heading down. The view was stunning.

Despite the glass of the ocean, the swell still crashed on the back cliffs of the Island, jagged volcanic rock resistant to the relentless pounding.

Hopefully she would consent to the visit even though it was late notice.

He did have a Thunderbird, after all.

-o-o-o-

John hadn’t slept much. He never did when something was on his mind. His everything drove him to find a solution, particularly when a brother was involved.

Eos never slept, so she was the perfect insomnia companion.

There was also the factor that he was home, but he really wasn’t.

He was missing Five.

Now he was back on the Island, everything was screaming at him to go home.

Not that he didn’t like the Island, quite the opposite. The Island contained his brothers, his grandmother, Kayo, his family and he adored his family.

But the stars were calling to him. His body ached to feel the release from gravity. He wanted his home.

He ignored it.

His body needed gravity. It was an undeniable fact. It had evolved under the pressure exerted by the planet and while his mind adored the stars and the lack of gravity, nature demanded its return under the ‘use it or lose it’ mandate of life on Earth.

So, tired, but awake anyway as the sun hit the front of the villa, John made his way down to the pool where he found Gordon, as expected, in the water, but unexpectedly, not swimming. His head was lying on one arm at the edge of the pool, his body floating lazily behind.

John dropped his towel on a lounger and, bare footed to the edge next to his brother. Folding himself into a seated position he dropped his feet to dangle in the cool water.

“Gordon?”

“Hmm?” His head rose a little blearily. “Oh, John, hey.”

“Merry Christmas.”

“Huh? What, oh, Merry Christmas, John.”

A frown. “You okay?”

Gordon flexed his shoulders. “Yeah, just thinking.”

“Virgil?”

“Yeah.”

John sighed. “Same. But you do know he’s okay?”

“Yeah, just thinking it through.”

John pushed himself into the water and couldn’t help a relieved sigh as the water took away so many of the effects of gravity, cradling his body. “Swim with me?”

Brown eyes turned to him and John saw a reflection of his own worry in their depths. “Sure.” Gordon pushed off from the edge, his movements graceful despite his distraction.

John moved to the lane next to Gordon’s preferred and lined up beside his fish brother. Gordon shot him a brief but grateful smile before pushing off the end in a careless surge into stroke. He was metres ahead before John had even shifted into form.

Typical.

Show off.

But he couldn’t help but smile as he pushed off the edge himself, automatically moving into a strong but leisurely stroke in warm up.

Swimming denied verbal communication, but it wasn’t needed, the two of them just keeping each other company.

By the fifth lap, John started pushing himself, putting his body through the exercise needed to keep it healthy. He had no delusions of keeping up with Gordon. He just paced himself as his body needed it. Twenty laps in, he eased up a little and checked on his brother.

Gordon was still going. John brought himself to a halt, treading water, muscles pleasantly buzzing.

“Hey, John.” The astronaut startled, turning in place to find Scott standing on the edge of the pool. His running gear appeared well used, sweat stains prominent, and he was still breathing heavily. “Just letting you know that I’m going to be taking One out in about half an hour.”

“You going to get Mel and Sam?” Gordon was suddenly beside him. It was a sign of how tired John actually was that his younger brother startled him almost as much as Scott had a moment earlier.

“Yeah.”

“Can I come with?”

“Don’t you want to be here for when Penny arrives?”

John arched an eyebrow in Gordon’s direction. The fish had been looking forward to Christmas for that very reason. Before Virgil’s illness, it had been Penelope this, Penelope that. Apparently, he had the ‘best’ gift lined up for their first Christmas as a couple. Whether or not that was still going ahead considering recent events, John had no idea. Gordon hadn’t mentioned it since Virgil fell ill.

“I thought you had the fastest plane on the planet, Scotty.”

Their eldest brother snorted. “Plane, yes, younger brother, no.”

“Hey, I can be fast.” A strawberry blond frown. “Regardless, I need to speak to Sam.”

Scott eyed him a moment. “Virgil?”

Gordon sighed. “Yeah, Virgil. Gotta handle this delicately.”

Scott’s lips thinned. “Okay, then you better be ready in thirty because that’s when I’m leaving.”

The fish was already climbing out of the pool. Wet footprints marked the concrete as he strode to his towel.

Blue eyes turned to John. “You okay? You look tired.”

John let water run through his fingers. “I am, but I’ll live.”

Voice quiet. “Virgil?”

A single nod, voice equally quiet. “Virgil. Eos, Gordon and I will work it out. We just need time.” And patience. Admittedly, he didn’t have much of that where his brothers’ health was concerned. He could fake it, but it didn’t mean he felt it.

Scott’s expression was thoughtful. “I know you will do your best. Don’t forget to look after yourself.”

A groan. This was why Virgil was always adamant that he was fine. I single hint of something wrong and their biggest brother was all over them, his concern obvious. “I’m fine, Scott.”

That earned him a grunt and John actually struggled not to smile at his brother’s exasperation. John swam to the pool edge and pushed himself out of the water. A wave in the direction of the rising sun’s reflection. “The pool is all yours, dear brother.”

Scott eyed him. “Thank you.”

The morning breeze cooled John enough to raise goose pimples on his arms. Before he could reach for his towel, Scott was handing it to him.

Ever the big brother. It was John’s turn to eye him back. “Thank you.”

Scott smiled at him, a definite smirk on those lips. He knew exactly what John was thinking and had likely done it on purpose. “Anytime.”

Hmmm. “Merry Christmas, Scott.”

Those blue eyes widened as his big brother obviously realised that despite all the preparations underway, despite the tree they had stacked with presents the night before, he had still managed to forget the significance of the day.

It was John’s turn to smirk.

But Scott recovered quickly, tilting his head, a small smile on his lips. “Merry Christmas, John.”

With that he turned and headed off into the house.

-o-o-o-

Alan loved to sleep in. He shared this love with his second eldest brother. Getting up early sucked big time and he had no coffee addiction to help him.

But there was one day of the year when you could witness the youngest Tracy out of bed, while not early, at least a decent time where breakfast could still be called breakfast and not lunch or even brunch.

Christmas Day.

Alan adored the day. Presents, food and family, what more could a guy ask for?

So, eight am found him stumbling down the stairs to the kitchen in search of the second and third items on the list. He found Grandma at the kitchen table eating her fruit and yoghurt.

Alan made no effort to be quiet, but she didn’t appear to realise he was there, staring out across the lagoon. “Grandma?”

She dropped her spoon with a clatter as it hit the bowl. “Alan!” She clutched her hand to her chest, gasping. “You frightened me. Gave my old heart a kick in the pants.”

“Sorry, Grandma. Are you okay?”

“This time. Though I wouldn’t recommend doing it too often.” She held out an arm. “C’mere and give me a Christmas hug.”

Now that was something he was quite happy to do. Grandma hugs were always appreciated. “Merry Christmas, Grandma.” He held her tight.

“Merry Christmas, honey. Are you hungry?”

Uh, that was always a loaded question and there were important indicators related to that. “Where is everyone?” He had expected to find at least John down here. His space brother would eat his breakfast staring out into the lagoon and follow it with work on his tablet just to be around family in his own way. But not today.

“Scott and Gordon have gone to Raoul to collect Ms Fisher and that scientist friend of Gordon’s.”

“Sam?”

“I guess. They were both in quite a hurry to leave.”

That set Alan grinning. “I think Scott likes Mel.”

An arched eyebrow. “I thought she liked Virgil.”

A snort accompanied the grin. “I don’t think she is Virgil’s kind of girl.”

Of course, that was the very moment Kayo decided to enter the kitchen. She had obviously been on a run, dressed in shorts and a high cut top.

“Who’s Virgil’s kind of girl?”

Alan’s eyes widened. “Um.”

Green narrowed at him. “What are you up to, Alan?”

“Nothing!” He held out his hands. “What did I do?”

“I’m more concerned with what you are going to do.”

“Suspicious, much? I’m going to eat breakfast, that’s what.”

She continued to eye him. “No practical jokes today.”

“I wasn’t planning on it. Gee, you’d think I was Gordy or something.”

“Gordon will be contained by Lady Penelope. You, however, are not.”

“And what? That makes me some kind of prank genius?”

“Genius, no, annoyance, yes.”

“Hey, Merry Christmas, Kayo. How about a little of the spirit?”

She glared and him and grunted before turning away and stalking off.

“What’s up her skirt?”

“Alan!”

“Well, you saw her. I didn’t do anything!”

Grandma was quiet a moment. “She has things on her mind.”

“When doesn’t she?”

“Let her be.”

“I didn’t do anything!”

Grandma sighed. “Things will work themselves out for the best.”

Alan stared at his grandmother. What on Earth was going on? Did everyone know something that he didn’t. He sighed. Wouldn’t be the first time. “I’m going grab some breakfast.”

“Yes, dear.” And Grandma was staring out at the lagoon again.

What the-?

Alan grabbed the refrigerator door and flung it open, his eyes raking its contents. Perhaps food would fix things.

A glance at Grandma found that she hadn’t moved.

There was definitely something going on.

-o-o-o-

End Day 5 Part 1

[frostygar]

Snowbarry Headcanons 6

1. Who can’t help but laugh when the other does something funny?

- Barry, being the ball of sunshine that he is.

2. Who would buy dinosaur themed cutlery because they can?

- Caitlin, as a nod to Barry and his archaeology phase from when he was younger.

3. They are petsitting a dog for a day, what happens?

- The dog ends up falling in love with them because they love dogs.

4. Who is more likely to give the other a forehead kiss?

- Barry.

5. Who is bad talking about their feelings so they make up for it in different ways?

- Caitlin. To make up for it, she requests that Barry take them far away for a date so she can talk to him one on one without any distractions.

6. Who is more likely to catch the other singing and dancing by themselves?

- Caitlin catches Barry singing and dancing by himself when he’s doing chores with headphones in. If it’s over a speaker, she’ll join in and they’ll jam together.

7. Who gets excited when their partner says they can do their hair?

- Barry loves to do Caitlin’s hair, so whenever she gives him the chance he gets extremely excited and tries multiple different ways very quick to see which he likes better for whatever the reason is.

8. One of them gets the DJ to dedicate a song to their partner, what song do they choose and why?

- Caitlin chooses Poker Face because it’s what Barry first woke up to when he was in his coma after getting struck by lightning. Barry chooses Summer Nights since it’s the song Caitlin sang drunk at the club and it was a tender moment between them.

9. What is a crazy story they share together?

- They were placed into another timeline where Barry was with Iris, and Caitlin was with Ralph, and in order to figure out how they got there and how to get back to their own timeline, they had to keep up pretenses until Cisco figured it out and helped them get back. Turns out, it was because of this gadget their Cisco was working on that Barry accidentally sat on and it sent them back.

10. Who is more likely to make puns with stuff they see when they go out?

- Barry. Caitlin rolls her eyes, but the smile that plays over her mouth gives away that she actually likes them.

11. Who is more likely to high five the other person?

- Barry. He’s like an excited puppy dog, and high-fiving is what he does when his brain is going so fast he can barely think straight.

12. Do they have a secret handshake? If so, what is it?

- Yes, but coincidentally, it wasn’t Caitlin who initiated it, it was Killer Frost and Barry just kept it up with Caitlin. It’s a weird play on charade-like moves for The Flash and Killer Frost.

13. Who is ready to take on the world in the morning and who is ready to go back to bed?

- Barry is ready to take on the world in the morning, and Caitlin is ready to get back to bed.

14. How do they balance each other out? Ex- Is one really chill while the other worries a lot?

- Barry is an incredibly playful guy, so Caitlin has to reel him in and make serious situations serious. Cisco does not help the situation, unless it’s life-or-death.

15. Who is more likely to build a pillow fort?

- Barry builds pillow forts when Caitlin is upset, and it always does the trick because he also makes hot chocolate and sandwiches and they just… lay there and cuddle in each other’s presence and it really helps.

Taken from https://the-moon-dust-writings.tumblr.com/post/180092247793/otp-questions

[cookieek]

Chapter 8: In which books are read and curses are pondered over

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 Epilogue Ao3 Wattpad

Harriet cautiously stepped into the big ballroom, bracing herself for the barrage of noise. There was always a lot of noise whenever her parents decided to hold a ball, hundreds and thousands of people talking, shoes clacking against the Marble floor, glasses tapping against each other, she could go on. 

She reached a hand up to scratch at the itchy lace around her neck, but stopped at the glare from her mother. 

“You have been absent for two hours now, that’s one hour more than we agreed on,” her mother whispered harshly, as she took a tight hold of Harriet’s hand and dragged her away. 

Harriet could not hear exactly what her mother was saying as they walked through the room, her sharp whispers simply joining and becoming indistinguishable with the rest of the noise surrounding both of them, but her body language made it very clear that she was upset. 

Harriet felt a bit guilty about the whole thing, she hadn’t really meant to be away from the ball for so long, but she just lost track of time. 

She fidgeted with the lace around one of her arms this time, she realised that there was a lot of lace on the dress she had been put in, it was not very comfortable.

Finally, her mother let go of her hand to gesture towards a man who looked very impatient, probably with her. Judging by the way he was dressed he was probably a prince or at least a lord.

He said something she wasn’t able to catch, and then her mother pushed her towards him, he held out his hand. It seemed like he wanted to dance.

Oh no, there was lace on her socks as well.

She took his hand, and he harshly pulled her out into the crowds of people, who immediately moved away to create a perfect circle around her and him. Effectively trapping her. 

He bowed, she curtseyed and then they danced. He was a pretty good dancer, and Harriet did her best to hang along, there were thousand people watching after all so she had to. His hands felt cold and uncomfortable on her body, not quite holding on as much as they should be, like he was ready to let her go flying into the crowd at any seconds notice. 

She stumbled a bit and tightened her grip on him in fear, he simply smiled a smug condescending grin back at her as he picked up the pace.

The lace inched. 

The noise in the room seemed to increase.

She tried her best to keep up with his now faster steps, but found herself stumbling more and more. Her head started to feel dizzy and she wanted to stop, but she could feel the glare of her mother in the back of her neck and so she pushed on.

He picked up the pace more and more, seemingly taking delight in seeing her fumble and stumble as she tried to keep up, his smile growing more and more at each failure she displayed. 

She gritted her teeth, determined not to mess up again. And then he loosened his grip on her. 

And let go of her.

And she fell, the room breaking out in roaring laughter, almost destroying her eardrums. She tried to drag herself up from the floor, but her head was spinning, and the lace was inching, and the room was so loud, and everyone was looking at her. 

She looked up at the man, who was grinning ear to ear, having grown a completely second mouth that was laughing a horrible condescending laughter.

Harriet felt embarrassed, humiliated, but most of all, she felt rage. 

Biting back her anger she looked around her at the blob of eyes open wide, staring at her, and mouth laughing uproariously. It surrounded her on all sides, but behind it she could still make out the silhouette of her mother.

She tried to reach out a hand to her, but her mothers eyes opened and glared at her, and then her silhouette disappeared.

~

Edda spent a few minutes just staring at the ceiling after she woke up, taking in the silence, the sweet sweet silence, as her eyes traced the wood pattern of the planks above her. Seeing those nobelmen and princes yesterday must have awoken a dormant memory in her brain or something. 

Fucking pricks.

She took a deep sigh, clenched and unclenched her muscles a bit, and then she rose up from the bed. She didn’t have time or energy to dwell on the past, she had things to do today.

She tried to do her morning routine relatively quietly, since Arthur was still sleeping pretty soundly, she was up pretty early after all. As she brushed her hair she hoped he didn’t have to deal with any weird dreams brought on from yesterday, the encounter did seem to stick to him a bit.

She shook her head a bit, those assholes were certainly going to make being in Hävelösa way more tense than she was hoping for. Part of her wondered if she even had the guts to sleep in the same inn as them one more night, but another part of her were keenly aware that there was no way she would be able to do what she needed to do at the library and then immediately start traveling to Endeslättaren, she would prefer not having to sleep outside more than she needed to.

She put up her hair in a bun, and pulled out an old book from her bag, she needed to get her mind of everything, just for a little while.

Arthur woke up about an hour later than her, and soon enough they where out of the door of the inn and making their way to the library. Thankfully they somehow managed to avoid any run ins with the princess search party on their way there.

She managed to locate the books she searched for in the library pretty quick, well, not all the books she had been hoping to find, but maybe she didn’t need those to break the curse. And if she did need them, then she just had to look for them in the next town. 

As she started flipped through the books, she took a notice of Arthur shuffling in his seat, seemingly already a bit restless. It wasn’t like he could take a nap like last time, probably having had a pretty good night sleep. 

“If you want, you can help me look through these books for anything helpful?” She tried, holding out the book she found on what she suspected to be the type of fairy that cursed him.

He eyed the book, and smiled a bit awkwardly at her.

“I don’t think I would be able to find anything helpful, Miss Edda, I wouldn’t even know what to look for.” He rubbed the back of his neck a bit.

“Just look for things like weaknesses, or curses and such,” Edda said, holding a scrap of paper and a pen “And then note the page number where it’s mentioned down on this, and then I can take a look at it later.”

Arthur hesitantly took the book, the paper scrap and pen. 

“And this will help you?” He said, a bit unsure. 

“It will certainly streamline the process of finding anything from the books.” She said with a smile.

He gave her a soft and slightly shaky smile in return as he put the book on the desk and opened it. 

They had worked for about twenty minutes, before a curious thought entered Eddas brain, and then wouldn’t, despite her attempts, leave.

“Hey Arthur,” she finally said, putting down the book she was holding. “You said you knew someone who did magic, did they ever try to help with the curse?”

He looked up from the book, and let out a slightly nervous laugh. 

“Well yeah, he was also under the curse, until recently. I don’t really know what it was he tried, but he sure did try a whole bunch of things.” He slumped a bit in the chair. “None of them worked, obviously.”

“Obviously,” she said, a bit bummed out over not getting to know exactly what has already been attempted when it came to breaking the curse, but oh well. “So I guess that left you to try to find this mythical, most beautiful woman?”

“Yes,” He said holding his hand up dramatically, “We went from kingdom to kingdom, finding beautiful princesses after princesses.” His hand flopped down. “Not a single one of them were willing to kiss us.”

“Wait, your problem was that you didn’t find anyone willing to kiss you?” She wasn’t sure why she was so surprised, she knew very well that princesses could be absolute judgemental assholes, but part of her could still not quite fathom what he had said.

He looked at her, a bit bewildered. “Yes? Is that, surprising, to you?”

“You really think that? Even as a dwarf?” There was a pinch of pure wonder in his voice, and it was killing her.

“Well, I guess not? Princesses were probably, no definitely, not the best people to ask for those types of favours, but...” she put her head in one of her hands and started observing the books on bookshelves to the right of her as she continued talking. “You look, at least to me, like someone who could get a kiss pretty easily.” Shit, why did she have to continue talking? She already regretted ever bringing the topic up. Why was her face so warm, what the fuck?

“Yea.” Was the only thing she could manage to get out as she wished for the floor to open up and swallow her. "Also you're really sweet." Why was she doing this to herself???!!!

Then she felt two warm hands take a hold of one of hers. She looked over a bit only to get smacked in her face by his warm smile and shining eyes.

“You’re too kind, M’lady.” He said as he lifted her hand up and pressed his soft and warm lips against the back of it. Kissing it.

Edda felt as if a jolt of lightning had shot down her spine, leaving her frozen in shock. One part of her brain screaming at her to remove herself from the situation, only to be shot down by a way bigger part of her brain that wanted to memorise the moment forever. Oh crap, what was going on???!!!

She did her best not to start hyperventilating right in front of him. This was probably something he did to everyone, maybe some sort of weird custom from where he was from! Why else would he kiss her hand???

“Miss Edda?” He asked, sounding concerned, letting go of her hand.

Edda shot up from her seat, trying to laugh casually.

“Oh wow, I think I need to use the restroom, right now, can you watch the books while I’m gone, please and thank you!” And then she walked away the fastest she could, collapsing to the ground the moment she got away from his eyesight. 

She held up the hand that he had kissed. She could still feel the heat of his hands and the softness of his lips, and she couldn’t stop thinking about it. 

It wasn’t like she had disliked it or anything, she had liked it, but she had liked it too much. It had been too nice, so nice that it had scared her. Why was her mind reacting like this? Why now?

She tugged at her hair in frustration, she just didn’t get it. Was she sick or something? A weird fewer maybe? What else could explain why she was feeling like this, why her heart was beating faster than it ever had before, why her mind filled with thoughts that she knew it never did her any good to entertain.

If his lips had felt so nice on her hand what would it feel like if he…

She had to stop this now.

Nothing good could ever or would ever come from it. 

She looked up from her little huddle of misery, and was assaulted by the image of two people kissing, pretty much the last thing she needed to see at the moment. She let out a quiet, but sharp swear as she fumbled back from the image. 

It was the cover of a book, put on special display in the bookshelf by the side of a sign saying ‘Recommended by the staff’. Besides it stood a few other recommendations, with titles such as ‘What the heart wants the most’, ‘The sweetest kiss’ and ‘Everlasting touch’.

Edda realised that she had collapsed in the middle of the romance section of the library. The world was playing a foul trick on her today it seemed.

Grimacing, she got up from the floor, throwing a long glare at the books that surrounded her. It wasn't that she hated romance books. They were perfectly fine pieces of literature, that she would read from time to time, but at the moment they inspired only negative feelings in her. The smiling, beautiful people on the covers only serving as a stark reminder of something she would never get to experience, while at the same time giving her false promises to the contrary. Like someone like her ever could really get to feel love.

She shook her head, there was no reason to dwell on things that will never be, she had accepted that she would never get to experience the feeling of love or being loved ages ago. That's just how it was and still is. It wasn't like she needed it anyway, she had gone through life just fine so far without it.

She turned to leave the isle and return to Arthur, the romance books having somehow served as effective dampers on whatever it was that she was experiencing just a few moments prior, but then her eyes caught a book that layd haphazardly on one of the shelves.

'Britta Vitorms runespell collection' the book said.

Edda picked it up from the shelf.

"Well you're not supposed to be here are you?" She said to it as she turned it around in her hand to examine it. Someone had clearly misplaced it.

With a spark of curiosity she opened the book as she started to make her way back to her table. It had been a while since she did some runemagic, maybe there were some neat spells in the book she hadn't heard of before. She took a look over the books table of contents, there were the usual fare, a wide arrangement protection spells, enchantment spells, cosmetic spells. Her eyes widened a bit in interest as she got to what the book called 'everyday practical spells' which for some reason contained 'explosive spells'. The amount of sheer, unadulterated, glee she experienced when reading those words were unimaginable.

"Oh, you're back Miss Edda!"

Edda almost jumped out of her skin, having become completely lost in the book and forgotten about Arthur. She lowered the book to look at him and tried to smile as casually as she could muster.

"Uh, yeah. Let's get back to work." She sat back down on the chair, the memories of what happened a few minutes prior threatening to resurface. She shook her head and forced them back down.

As she put the book she had been holding down on the table Arthur spoke up again.

"Miss Edda? Did me kissing your hand make you uncomfortable?" He sounded so concerned, but it took Edda a few seconds to register the words following 'Kissing' for some reason. She soon snapped out of her daze and laughed awkwardly.

"No it's fine," she said oddly unsure of whether she was lying or not, "You just kinda caught me a bit off guard." She let out a small snort. "People here don't tend to just kiss people on the hand like that out of nowhere."

He laughed a bit with her.

"I'll remember to give you a heads up next time then?" His eyes shifted a bit, "If you're okay with me kissing your hand again of course." He added with a careful smile.

"Yeah that's cool." She said a bit before she was able to fully collect her thoughts. She guessed she was fine with him, doing that, as long as he warned her beforehand. It was probably, just as she said to him, just that she was caught off guard before. Yes, that was why she reacted like that.

Either way they soon returned to looking through the books at the table. Hours passed with minimal progress, the books she had found mostly just talking about how to avoid getting cursed over how to break it. The most she could get in regards of curse breaking was trying to find some sort of loophole in the conditions of the curse, which while interesting, and something she jotted down on her notebook for later, was not the breakthrough she had hoped for. 

What she had found in regards to the nature of the curse itself was, a bit more fruitful, but hardly encouraging, as it mostly pointed to being hard magic to break with brute force methods, hence the previous notes on finding loopholes. Edda had at this point put the loophole method in her mental plan B folder, still determined to find a way to overpower the spell. Maybe throwing caution to the wind and trying whatever came to mind to break the curse wasn't that bad of an idea after all…

She shook her head, she had yet to find all she could on the nature of the spell, maybe if she looked hard enough she'll find some known weakness she could exploit, that wasn't about trying to oversmart the curse conditions.

Nevertheless in her frustration her attention was brought back to the rune spell book and soon she found herself flipping through it aimlessly. Maybe it had something on breaking curses? Her eyes were however once again brought to the explosion spells, and a related much more general channelling spell. Due to the nature of the explosion spells it was sort of a necessity to have some way to activate the spell without being in physical contact with it (or the object the spell was on), and that was just what channeling spells were for.

She absentmindedly jotted down the spells in her notebook on a separate page, it wasn't something she immediately needed, probably, but she was also too interested in the spells to just leave them by the wayside.

Returning to the issue at hand, most of the things regarding breaking curses was about cursed artefacts or specifically about dealing with curses done with rune magic. Her eyes lit up a bit as she found a spell 'for those unfortunate to be personally bewitched', the spell itself did not specify any limitations besides not working for curses passed down through generations, which did not seem to be the case when it came to Arthur's curse.

She added it to her newly created list for possible things to try through trial and error, if it had to come to it.

Arthur had left the table to get them something to drink, and as he was away Edda started flipping through the books she had had him go through, just in case he had missed something. She felt kinda bad for doing so, but she reasoned with herself that it was for the greater good. At first she didn't find anything new, which did not help the pit in her stomach, but then her eyes caught something he had missed.

"Transformation curses are often given to those that have given the fairy a high degree of offense? Treat the fairy with their deserved respect and no such curse will come to you. (For any notes on how to show respect for a fairy please refer to p. 34)" It read.

The text made complete sense to Edda, one would be an idiot to not treat magical creatures with respect, and Arthur, sweet as he was, had shown himself to be quite the idiot. He may have been even more of a dumbass than she had thought tough judging by how the text specified it being a 'high degree of offense'. What on earth had he done?

She noted down what she had found in her notebook and kept looking for other things Arthur might have missed, she found a few other snippets, but none of them was really anything helpful.

She leaned back a bit in her chair, stretched her arms and tried to be a bit optimistic. Sure she hadn't quite cracked the code to the curse just yet, but she had learned something new, and this was only the first library out of three. 

Yeah, she was probably going to get somewhere with the curse in the next library. At least that's what she tried to tell herself, she had told Arthur that she would be able to break it after all…

She rose up from the chair with a sigh, today really wasn't her day. Nevertheless she started to collect all her notes and clean up the table she and Arthur had been working at.

"Oh! Are we done here, Miss Edda?" Arthur had just come back with two drinks in his hands, looking curiously at what she was doing.

She looked at him and smiled apologetically.

"Yeah, didn't really figure out how to break the curse yet tough." She said, scratching at some imperfections on her arm.

"Oh," he said, clearly a bit disappointed, but then his face brightened up again. "Well there's still two more towns to go, and there's no real hurry." He put the two drinks on the table. "Do you need help cleaning up?"

"Yeah sure, but," she let out a short laugh "It seemed, at least to me, like you wanted to become human pretty soon."

"Of course I want to become human again," he said letting out his own short laugh. "But I figured, you know, that it wasn't something you needed to rush." His eyes shifted a bit all over the place as he spoke, but as he finished he looked up at her with a sweet little smile.

She felt a bit fuzzy, probably just grateful for his kind words, and she smiled back. "Thank you Arthur, I promise that I will do my best to break your curse." She curtseyed at him, with a pinch of both playfulness and seriousness.

"I'm sure you will, M'lady." He said in such a soft voice that Edda almost didn't hear it. As she looked at him she saw the sweetest smile she had ever seen on another person, and she could not help to return it to the best of her abilities.

They just stood and smiled at eachother for a few seconds, before Edda managed to snap out of it.

"So, uh, should we clear the table before or after we drink?" She adverted her eyes from his, hoping she hadn't looked at him too intensely.

"Oh, right!" Arthur said, taking a short pause before he continued. "Let's clear the table first."

And so they did, putting the books back in their shelves, her notes back in her bag and then just enjoying the warm drinks in a comfortable silence. And for the first time that day Edda felt, simply, content.

[starnova-between-two-worlds]

Weathering the weather, part 1

Music: Meltdown-Rin Kagamine 

It’s that time of year again. The temperature dropped, and I went right with it. 

We knew shit was going to hit the fan on Thursday when the gale force winds hit so hard that they woke me up. It wasn’t instantaneous, but rather a slow process that came with the realization that the temperature wasn’t going to rise back up on Friday afternoon. It’s been cold, and I’ve been out of commission, since then.

Lightning calls me a “trooper.” The truth is that I tried. I tried to go to school, to keep up with martial arts, even tried to go out to breakfast on Saturday morning, hoping that all the trying would lead to a beautiful payoff and that I could be normal. Maybe the weatherman was wrong, and it was warmer than they said it would be...still above my temperature threshold for normal functioning at this time of  year (50+ degrees on average, can go down to about 46 without being totally knocked out). Maybe it would work out .

I had to leave school early on Friday. And after Saturday morning, I stopped trying entirely. 

There comes a certain point in the year when I just cannot take cold anymore. It hits after about the third week in February. My tolerance for cold temperatures has an upper limit. Once  that upper limit is reached, it’s reached. You know the upper limit has been reached when it makes me screech...when I simply cannot soldier through the biting sensation of cold air hitting my face anymore, and when it causes me to shut down entirely. After that, there’s nothing more that we can do.... 

I hate the cold for what it does to my body and mind. Late in the winter, when it sneaks back in after a consistent warming period, it takes my linear world and tears it to shreds. It ruins my yearly emergence from the scratchy, heavy, binding cocoon of a coat with a sleeve that catches against my arm when I run, with heavy fabric that slaps against my chest and weighs me down, a scarf that twists and turns all around and manages to nearly strangle me in the process, gloves that scratch against my hands and socks that push against the fabric of my jeans. To me, cold isn’t “just cold.” Cold BITES. Cold BURNS. Cold feels like that pit of a thousand needles like that one scene from Saw. Bite, bite, bite, pierce, pierce, pierce, and then I can’t move at all because I’ve turned into one hard, locked-up shell just trying to get rid of that sensation. There comes a point in the  year when I get just plain sick of that rigid, mechanical way I’m forced to move when the weather is cold, with my joints locked, my whole body tense like a shell, and my knees pitched forward as soon as the air strikes them. Anyone who knows me well knows that on a normal day I am in constant motion. 

I’m at my best when the temperature rises. Warmth means throwing aside the heaviness and scratchiness of coats and scarves and hoodies and layers and getting to remain in the constant motion that I get restless if forced out of. I’m a volcano girl in every sense of the word--magmatic pressure, constantly rising and falling and bubbling within me and needing to be kept at bay in tiny bursts or else risking a not-so-tiny eruption. Constant stimulation. It’s been this way for as long as I can remember. My world is a far too stimulating place for me to take it all in sitting down. When the temperature is warm I can finally go outside to my natural habitat--unless it’s cold or raining, I’m hardly ever in the house at all. I’m out playing in the yard, or skating up and down the hills, or rushing to look at a bird or a leaf, or kicking bog chestnuts (the little prickly balls that fall off trees near bogs and swamps) back and forth, or swinging back and forth on the fence overlooking the creek (no, I haven’t fallen in yet). I can feel the air against my face and my legs and my shoulders--while cold air feels like being bitten and pierced, warm air feels like an embrace, or a thousand caresses instead of a thousand needles, or like Ana’s nanoboost--”You’re powered up! Get out there!” “Raaawr, I am UNSTOPPABLE!”

The cold air takes all of that away from me. For the past 2 weeks, I’ve been at peak performance. For the past 2 days, I could barely be called “human” and I felt the shame of it. I KNEW that I resembled more an extremely animated dead person rather than a functioning human being, and I hated every fucking second of being so aware of that, yet unable to do a damn thing about it. My mind can’t figure out why just five days ago I was outside running, running, running and now all of a sudden I’m back to being locked up in that shell whenever the air hits me. My poor linear machine mind just cannot make sense of why everyone is in coats again even though the flowers are out, just cannot understand why 2 weeks of the caress of warmth culminated into 3 more days of piercing and biting. Why are people in coats again if the flowers are opening up? Why are the cherry blossoms starting to come out...cherry blossoms mean warm, but it’s not warm. Illogical. Does not compute. Error, critical error...

My soulbonds have been taking care of me, of course. They’re the only ones who have been--that’s because they’re the only ones who can. Even though this happens literally every year, at this same time of year, and has been happening ever since we moved to a part of the state with erratic-ass weather patterns like this twelve years ago, they’ve always been the ONLY ones able to anticipate it enough to take care of me. I overhear them talk about “What we’re going to do when the temperature drops” during every late-winter warm spell every year, and then I at least get the comfort of knowing that they’re already standing by to spring into action. My soulbonds and my videogames--their worlds, of course--have been my shelter these past three days. If I’m in a shutdown and can’t get out of bed, One of them is always right there at my side, waiting out the whole thing, and they’ll be right there when I power up again and while my machine-mind is trying to figure out if it’s safe to come out again. “Do you want to play Overwatch now?” “You want to put on some music?” “Do you think you’re okay to work on chem?” “Want to just open the window and look outside for a while?” “Want to play Hyrule Warriors?” Stimulation that my mind craves. Of course, sometimes it’s just not ready to power on entirely yet, and the answer to all of those questions becomes a resounding “No” before I lay my head back down again. That’s okay too.We’ll wait for the next power-up. They’ve been having to remind me to eat, sometimes even having to bring me down to the kitchen. Food doesn’t taste good to me right now...by doesn’t taste good, I mean it tastes like nothing at all. I might as well be eating sandpaper. Like I said, I feel like nothing but a walking corpse and I fucking hate it. Sometimes it’s the other way around and all I want to DO is eat, and then they have to keep me away from food except during mealtimes, because the taste of food in my mouth and that reward-pleasure signal it sends to my brain is the only thing that reminds me that I AM alive, that I AM human during times like this when I crave stimulation but am shut down completely. It’s such a fucked up time of year for us all.