#Like dreams can be sweet they can be scary or they can be rather mundane and he doesn’t use his powers to manipulate anyone (yet) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

i-write-boop-spoops · 3 years

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N Harmonia Fluff Alphabet

One anon asked for an N fluff alphabet and another asked for just any N content, so I hope this sates you both!

Not proof read so rip me

Enjoy!

A = Activities (what do they like to do with their s/o? how do they spend their free time?)

Rather expectantly, N loves looking after Pokemon with you! Whether you’re playing with, feeding or tending to them, he really enjoys seeing you being so sweet and kind to cute little mons and giant scary monsters alike.

He also loves just snuggling up with you and playing with each other’s’ hair. He really cherishes that kind of gentle, intimate affection.

Other than that, he really enjoys doing mundane things with you, stuff like going grocery shopping, cleaning the house, gardening etc, even before you live together. There’s something very comforting about it.

Oh, and he loves dancing with you!

B = Beauty (what do they admire about their s/o? what do they think is beautiful about them?)

He admires your kindness obviously, but also your determination and resilience! He thinks you’re so strong, and in turn, it emboldens him too!

As for physical beauty? He loves your smile, even just a little quirk of your lips makes him so happy. It’s just so precious!

C = Comfort (how do they help their s/o when they feel down? what makes them feel better?)

N isn’t the best at this kind of stuff, but he definitely tries his best to offer you support. Usually he just sits with you and lets you vent, or cry into his shoulder, often bringing a cute pokemon with him to cheer you up. He also likes bringing you on walks, hoping it might clear your head.

His words of affirmation, though few, are quite powerful, so you know he means them.

When he’s sad, he’d like to be treated in a similar fashion, just quiet support and cute Pokemon

D = Dreams (how do they picture their future with their s/o and in general?)

N doesn’t really know how he wants his life to go, the only thing he’s certain of is that he wants to continue improving the relationships between humans and Pokemon, and that he wants to be with you for the rest of time.

E = Equal (are they the dominant one in the relationship or are they rather passive?)

Due to his lack of experience, he’s definitely more on the passive side, preferring to let you take the lead when it comes to dates and stuff. Though he has no problem asserting himself (gently) if he wants to do something else instead.

F = Fight (how quick are they to forgive their s/o? what are they like in an argument? who says sorry first?)

N hates fighting with you, absolutely despises it, so he tends to avoid it when he can. Inevitably, like in all relationships, you end up in a few spats. He’s never mean to you, but he does try talk over you and has a habit of just walking out instead of working out the issue right away. Really he just goes for a walk to calm him down, and he’s usually back in an hour or two, but you probably don’t solve your disagreement until the next day.

He finds it quite easy to admit fault and apologise, so you don’t have to weasel a ‘sorry’ out of him. And due to his earnest nature, you know he means it.

G = Gifts (what kind of things do they gift to their s/o? are they spontaneous or do they stick to special events like anniversaries?)

When N gives a gift, most of the time, he doesn’t even realise it. He just sees something he thinks you’d like and just gives it to you without a second thought. Usually it’s pretty flora or candy, occasionally it’s a plush. Sometimes you get gifts very often, sometimes it’s weeks, maybe months, between each present.

H = Heart Eyes (what are they like in love? is it obvious to others? how do they express their love? do they brag about their s/o to others?)

N can be described as blissfully confused when in love. So soft and blushy and not totally sure what he’s feeling, but he sure does love it, and you. His Pokemon friends pick up on it immediately and root for the two of you.

Unintentionally brags. He just thinks you’re swell and tends to bring that up often, but he’s not trying to gloat.

I = Impression (what first attracted them to their s/o? how accurate was their first impression to how their s/o actually is?)

You seemed to handle that little joltik so carefully as you returned it to its mother galvantula, without an ounce of fear or malice in your eyes, and truly only kindness in your heart. It made him feel so at ease, like he had found a kindred spirit.

Not only was he right, he also found his soulmate too,

J = Jealousy (do they get jealous easily? how do they deal with it?)

N doesn’t quite understand jealousy. Like, you love each other, what does he have to worry about? He likes your friends a lot, and he finds anybody who tries to flirt with you more annoying than anything else

K = Kiss (are they a good kisser? what was their first kiss like? where do they kiss the most?)

At the beginning, N’s kisses are sweet but awkward, he’s so new to it, so he’s a bit afraid he might make a mistake. As your relationships progresses though, he becomes more comfortable and confident with it, and kisses reflect that, so soft and caring and full of meaning

I did a whole thing about N and kissing here

L = Little Things (what are the little things they love about their s/o? are they attentive?)

Really what doesn’t he love? It’s not that he puts you on a pedestal, he just genuinely finds you amazing and he loves you so much

M = Marriage (do they want to get married? how do they propose? what would the wedding be like?)

N doesn’t feel the need to marry you, as long as you’re in love, that’s what matters to him, a piece of paper doesn’t make it any more valid than it is in his eyes.

That being said, if you want to get married, he’s down for it, but don’t expect anything sappy or traditional. No proposal, no huge event, just the two of you exchanging heartfelt vows at the courthouse, with matching rings.

N = Nicknames (what do they call their s/o? what do they get called?)

He doesn’t really use nicknames, just the occasionally “Love” or “Dear”

On the flipside, he loves your nicknames for him. Some of his favourites are “Cutie”, “Sweetie”, “Greenie” and “Nat”

O = Open (do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? is it easy for them to share?)

While I wouldn’t say N is an open book, he doesn’t really hide things from you. He tells you how he feels without much fanfare, and you’re made aware of his past quite early on, even before you started dating.

P = Pancakes (are they a good cook? how often do they cook for their s/o? breakfast in bed or fancy dinner dates?)

N’s actually pretty good at cooking, and tends to cook pretty often, especially when you’re on the road together. His meals are simple and comforting, sometimes spicy, lots of soups and curries and rice.

Since he’s vegetarian, he prefers to cook for the two of you instead of going out, since most restaurants don’t have great options for him. That being said, if you find a place with a good menu, he’s totally down to take you there.

Q = Quirk (a random quality/ability that is beneficial to their relationship.)

N does not understand the concept of BS, so you don’t have to worry about playing weird mind games to find out what he really wants. As a result, your relationship is quite chill

R = Romance (how romantic are they? are they cliché or creative?)

Again, he’s not traditionally romantic, but he does care about you quite a lot and loves making you smile. And while it doesn’t say “I love you” very often, he means it, and that is a lot more valuable than any serenade or flower bouquet

S = Sleep (who falls asleep first? do they need their s/o close to them? do they have any bad habits?)

If you play with his hair, he’s out like a light. While he’s cuddles are lax and loose when he’s awake, he hugs you like a teddy when he’s fast asleep.

His sleep routine is shit though.

T = Thrill (do they need to spice up their relationship with new things or do they stick to a routine? how often do they do new things?)

N loves the cosiness of domestic mundanity, so it’s safe to say he likes to play it, well, safe. It gives him a sense of comfort and stability that he really appreciates.

U = Unity (did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? what traits do they share?)

Through being with you, N learns to be more attentive and emotional (in a healthy way), and to appreciate humans even more. He also feels more human too.

While you already loved Pokemon, he makes you see how truly amazing and special they are, and treat them even better than you did before.

V = Value (how important is their relationship to them? what is it worth compared to other things in their life?)

Your relationship is very important to him, but deep down, you know his love for Pokemon trumps his love for you. Though it never causes an issue with you

W = Wild Card (a random fluff headcanon.)

Likes to make matching flower crowns for the two of you and whatever Pokemon you’’re with at the time!

X = XOXO (do they like to kiss and cuddle? are they upfront about their relationship or rather shy when in public?)

N loves fluttery kisses and really tender hugs and cuddles, ones when you’re loosely tanged together and gently stroking each other’s skin.

He is not a PDA person at all, besides holding your hand and the occasional kiss. Some of it is shyness, but it’s mostly because he doesn’t feel the need to prove your relationship to anyone. He doesn’t use affection lightly.

Y = Yearning (how do they cope when they spend time away from their s/o? do they miss their s/o?)

He’s pretty okay on his own, since he’s quite used to it, but he does still miss you a lot. He finds comfort in things that remind you of him, a certain scent, a flower, a sound, even a Pokemon, it makes him feel like you’re with him

Z = Zoo (do they have pets? do they want some in the future?)

N doesn’t have any pets, mainly because he thinks Pokemon are friends. How many Poke-friends does he have? Too many for even him to count. My man radiates serious Disney Princess energy with the way Pokemon seem to flock to him.

That being said, he’s not against good people having Pokemon as pets, so if you have pokemon, you know he’ll be the best dad to them ever.

#n harmonia #n harmonia x reader #natural harmonia gropius x reader #natural harmonia gropius headcanons #natural harmonia gropius #n harmonia headcanon #n harmonia headcanons #fluff #request

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donutloverxo · 4 years

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Before you

*not my gif*

Please note that my work is not to be reposted or published anywhere other than my Tumblr or AO3 account without my permission. Reblogs are most welcome though!

Note - this was requested by the lovely @whimsicalrogers thanks for all the icons, lock screen and dividers you made me! Thanks for the beta and all your advice @stargazingfangirl18. I hope I do you all proud🤭

Summary - Yours and Steve's relationship was perfect, until it wasn't. Will he be able to convince you to give him another chance?

Warnings - smut (m/f), jealousy, angst, dom/sub undertones.

Pairing - Steve Roger x reader

Word count - 4552

Masterlist is linked in the bio!

As someone who grew up watching an unhealthy amount of Disney movies and romcoms, you couldn’t help but dream, that someday your prince charming would come riding in on a white horse to whisk you away from your boring mundane life.

Someone you could love and hold forever, who’d do the same for you. Someone who’d always be there for you, to pick you up when you fall, to make you laugh when all you want to do is cry. Someone who’d be your everything and treat you as if you’re the most special person in the whole world.

But adulthood killed all those dreams all too easily. You learned the hard way that people didn’t really belong to each other. They barely even listened to when another person was talking.

You thought you came close a couple of times, but you never did find your special person. Everyone walks on their paths alone. And maybe it was better that way. You weren’t sure if you could ever completely open up and give yourself to someone else.

That was until Steve came along. He was someone as lost as you and even lonelier. Finding himself in a world he no longer recognised and among people he couldn’t really trust. It didn’t take that long for him to trust you.

You had put on Snow White which was Steve’s favorite from back in his day. You couldn’t help but insert yourself in the fairy-tale. After all Steve did always call you his princess.

“Steve?” You mumbled into his chest laying on top of him as the end credits played.

“Yes, sugar?” He replied running his hands through your hair before drawing small soothing patterns on your back.

He only had to move his nose an inch to smell your hair and get a whiff of your soft soothing scent. Who knew something so simple could be so blissful.

As much as he loved taking you out on the town and courting you to show you a good time and do all the things he never thought he could, he also loved spending these quiet evenings in with you. Where it was just him and you, the rest of the world just seemed to disappear. He wouldn’t trade them for anything.

“Never mind,” You shook your head. ‘It’s soon. You’ll scare him off.’ That incessant annoying voice in your head said.

“Hey,” He propped your chin up to make you look at him. His heart melted at your glossy eyes. So vulnerable and sensitive. Maybe it was what drew him to you. Your ability to be so sweet and wear your heart on your sleeve. Something he never could do. “What is it?” He asked lowly caressing your cheek. Not wanting to push you too much but he couldn’t really help himself when you looked so sad either.

“Do you think...” You whispered and licked your lips “We’ll be together forever. Like them.” You picked at the threads on his shirt too scared to look at him.

He smiled down at you. Getting up to sit straight and adjust you properly in his lap. “I know we will sweetheart.” He said confidently as if it was a fact.

You looked up at him still holding onto his shirt, as if he’d disappear if you let go for even a second “And do you think you’ll always love me?” You wanted to know.

“Yes, I’m sure of it. Where is this even coming from?” He frowned “I know... I don’t always do a good job of showing you I love you. This is new to me. I’ve never had a girlfriend.” And like the dork that he was he couldn’t help the goofy grin he made every time he referred to you as his girl “But I’ll do better,” He promised and pressed a long lingering kiss on your forehead to seal it. He cleared his throat to ask “What do you think I should do better?”

“No. You’re amazing, Steve, you don’t need to change.” You said giving his plump pink lips a quick peck “It’s just scary. How much I love you and how it can all go away if I’m not careful. People break up everyday and over the stupidest of things or over nothing. I don’t want that to be us.” You sighed unloading all your anxieties.

He nodded taking your words in “I understand. I’m scared of losing you too. More than you’ll ever know.” He paused looking for the best words “What we can do is maybe talk about such things?” He slowly suggested rocking you back and forth in his arms.

You happily tucked your head in the crook of his neck, hugging him close to you. Falling for his sweet words and him. Convinced that nothing would come between you both.

***

He got down on one knee not long after to pop the big question with an even bigger diamond to really show you how committed he was.

You were on cloud nine. You felt nothing could ever bring you down that you only had happier times to look forward to.

Until one fateful day, you didn’t realise it then but it was probably when everything started going to hell, Sharon Carter got back from her year long mission in Europe.

You were only an accountant working for the Avengers. Being so close to Steve did give you some influence, which you were ashamed of liking a bit too much, but no one was ever really scared of you. You heard chatter about her and your Steve. And how now he would surely ditch his ‘normal and plain fiancé'. They never tried that hard to hide it from you. They probably thought you weren’t here for the long haul.

“Hey Angie” You nervously called for your desk mate. “Why is everyone so obsessed with Steve and Agent Carter?”

“Oh you mean Staron?” She grinned before frowning, “Oh I’m sorry! That’s just what people call them. Not me though! You know how hard I ship you two.” She squeezed your shoulder in order to console you.

“Yeah but why? I mean did they use to date or something...” You trailed off knowing that it was something you should be asking your fiancé not your co-worker.

You had tried a couple of times but you were too afraid to come off as jealous or controlling. That was the last thing you wanted to be. You expected him to give you enough space to be your own person, so it’d only be fair for you to do the same.

“I don’t really know.” She stroked her chin as if in thought “You’ll just have to ask Captain Rogers. Nothing was ever confirmed they were just rumors. Even I’ll admit they would make gorgeous blonde babies. But girl! You don’t have anything to worry about! You’re the one who has the ring.” She tried her best to assure you but the seeds of doubt and fear had taken roots in your mind.

Steve assured you that there was never anything between them. They flirted with the idea of dating for a while before she went away, he doubted there’d ever be anything between them. He couldn’t imagine being with anyone else. Not when he’s so madly in love with you.

He was so convincing and charming.

The things that set him apart from everyone else, which you loved about him, were his honesty and loyalty. He blamed his Ma and 1920s raising but you didn’t care. He was perfect in your eyes. He didn’t need to fit in. Those things made him Steve Rogers. Your Steve.

***

You had never been more ashamed than when you went through Steve’s things to get some sort of clue. You went through his sketches to find if he was secretly harboring any kind of feelings about her. You only found sketches mostly consisting of you and the Avengers, some of Bucky and his mom.

You sighed in relief, but then, at the bottom of his drawer you found a sketch of Sharon drawn with charcoal pencil. You couldn’t help but cry tears of frustration and pain, tearing the sketch up and flushing it so he wouldn’t find out. You knew you made a grave mistake, even as you started snooping you knew nothing good would come out of it, yet you couldn’t help yourself. In the end you only upset yourself.

Steve got back from work shortly after with your favorite take out, he kissed you hello. He knew something was up but you simply lied and chalked it up to pms or something.

He was ever so understanding. Giving you a nice massage and drawing you a bath. You decided then, that you wouldn’t look for anything anymore. If Steve was being unfaithful you didn’t want to know. You’d rather live in this beautiful peaceful bubble of ignorance.

***

The next few months were tough. All your wedding planning had taken a backseat as Steve had started to look for his friend Bucky, who also happened to be the winter soldier, with Sam and Sharon.

You didn’t really have an answer when your mother pestered you about going wedding shopping. You didn’t know how to tell her that you doubted if there would be a wedding at all. It would break her heart. Especially after she had come to love Steve as much as you did.

You never complained. How could you? The whole world needed him much more than you ever could. And he didn’t seem to need you anymore.

He never had to have time for you anymore. Late nights at the offices, long missions with Sharon.

One rare night he was home for dinner, you were too busy sulking in your self pity to actually enjoy his company after he’d deprived you of it for so long.

You chose to give him the silent treatment, not speaking more than two words to him. He noticed. Of course he did, Captain America, always so perceptive and smart.

He tried to pry answers out of you for a while before his phone started ringing and he excused himself to go pick it up.

“Why do you always go into the other room to take your calls?” You asked when he got back placing his phone down on the table. Playing with your food not having the strength to look him in the eye and confront him.

He visibly stiffened at the underlying accusation in your question. He had grown annoyed of having the same discussion with you again and again. But he decided to bite his tongue. It was his job to make you feel secure in your relationship.

“It’s confidential information, doll. You know that.” He sighed.

You hummed “But you can tell me who you were speaking to right?” You finally looked up and you wished you hadn’t. He clearly wasn’t happy, his eyebrows furrowed in a frown and his jaw clenched, how you hated confrontation. Not that you ever thought you’d be confronting your Steve.

“It was Sharon.” He spit.

“Of course.” You scoffed going back to staring at your food as he rolled his eyes.

“What do you want me to say? I know you aren’t exactly fond of her but I’m not going to lie just to make you happy. Because that’s not who I am! I don’t lie.” He ranted holding up his phone “Why don’t you go through it? Maybe that will make you happy.”

You shook your head rejecting his offer. Even though you were tempted to, you knew Steve was smart. He was Captain America for gods sake. He’d know how to cover his tracks. If he didn’t want you to find something, you probably wouldn’t.

So you finished your dinner, angrily stuffing the food in your mouth while sneering at him and then left him to do the dishes.

You put yours and Steve's laundry in the washer. Even though you were salty with him you still did your half of the chores. Checking his pockets for any receipts or bills. But then you saw what looked like a shinning golden thread. You pulled at it to find that it was a long blonde hair. Which was clearly not yours.

You thought of going to Steve with it. But if you had to hear another one of his lame excuses you’d probably drown yourself.

So, for the first time, you simply went to bed angry with him. When he tried to talk to you, you retorted with a snarky or hurtful comment or didn’t speak at all. You knew just how crazy that would drive him.

***

You groaned for the fifteenth time in the past hour, your leg impatiently shaking under the table. He was an hour late. He was someone who took pride in always being punctual and sharp, clearly you weren’t important enough for him to consider your feelings. You decided to pick up your phone and call him.

“Where are you?!” You hissed as soon as he picked up. Too angry to even bother to say hello.

“I’m at work. I’m so sorry, doll, I won’t be able to make it. Something important came up.” He apologized. His voice laced with guilt. Which would’ve been enough to convince you maybe a month or so ago, but at this point he had missed far too many dinners and dates.

“Right. Of course. More important than me obviously.” You rolled your eyes.

“You know that’s not true – "

“You didn’t even bother calling me” You screamed into your phone.

“I did call.” He sighed “You didn’t pick up and I’m kinda busy right now.”

“Yeah I didn’t pick up! I was cooking a meal for our anniversary! You know what? I don’t care because you clearly don’t either.” You said hanging up without giving him a chance to speak.

You had packed some of the leftovers up for Steve but you decided to dump them all in the bin. He didn’t deserve your cooking.

You haphazardly threw the tupperware in the sink. Torn between punching a wall and hugging a pillow to cry out all your frustrations. You chose to rigorously scrub and wash the dishes.

Having spent some of your excess energy you sat in front of your dresser, putting some petroleum jelly on your palms to sooth the burn.

You sighed at the sight of your sparkly diamond. You couldn’t bear to look at it anymore. It reminded you of a happier and simpler time. The last thing you wanted was a complicated or dramatic relationship.

As you slid the ring off your finger placing it in your jewellery box, you couldn’t help but ponder on whether it was just as much of your fault as well.

You started packing your clothes into a small bag. Maybe you could spend a few nights at your mothers house until you can clear your head.

***

Steve hastily opened your apartment door with his keys. “Honey, I’m home.” He called out for you.

He rubbed his face, a nervous pit forming in his stomach. He knew he had been prioritising his work over you for weeks now, he didn’t know the extent of it until you told him off on the phone and then didn’t pick up any of his calls. He asked Sam to cover for him for the night as he made his way back home.

His enhanced hearing picked up on movements in the bedroom, he followed the sounds of your rustling, tossing his jacket on the couch.

His worst fears came true as he looked at you carelessly stuffing your clothes in a cabin bag. You spared him a glance before zipping the bag up.

He took a deep breath, he had to say the right words before he fucks up the situation more than he already has. “Sweetheart –“

“Steve, I’m leaving. I think we should take a break,” Your voice cracking a bit but you tried to be resilient and strong, you sighed as you saw the heartbroken look on his face as his jaw dropped “it’s hard for me too but it’s just not working anymore.”

“Is it hard for you?” He spit. “Everyone has problems, I just need one more chance.”

“I won’t let you break my heart again.” You swallowed as you felt tears stream down your cheeks, you wiped them with the back of your hand. “I’ll always love you but I’m tired of being disappointed and suspicious and jealous. It’s not who I am, it’s not who I want to be.”

“Wh – what do you mean suspicious?” He asked as his brows furrowed.

“I think you know what I mean. I know I’m not like a model or a kickass spy or unique. But I still want to be special to someone. I’m so...simple. I thought that was enough for you and us.”

“What are you even talking about?” He lost his composure and calm as his eyes watered, blurring his vision, he held onto your forearms, needing your touch the most right now, as if you won't leave if he held on tight enough. “I’m not special either.”

To which you scoffed. “That’s debatable.”

“It’s true. Captain America is special. He’s the superhero. I’m just Steve.”

“I know that’s what you think,” You said shaking his hands off of you and staring at the floor, not bearing to look at him “But it’s not the reality. Captain America is a part of you. And I think... maybe Captain America deserves someone extraordinary like Agent 13.” You let out a humorless chuckle.

“What the hell are you talking about?” He asked in his stern Captain voice, clenching his fists having had about enough of this.

You stiffened as a shiver ran down your spine at his tone. He had never spoken to you like that. He reserved that tone for his teammates and subordinates, and more often than not Tony. But not you. You were his precious baby.

You felt as if you were compelled to look up at him, he wasn’t crying anymore but his jaw had hardened, his face and neck flushed red. “Sharon. I mean,” You took a deep breath “I know there’s nothing between you two... probably.” you whispered as he raised a brow at you.

“But your work and duty will always come first and I know it is a good thing. But it’s not what I want. I thought I could handle it, the whole world needing you more than me and coming before me,” You spoke so lowly but you knew he could hear you, “but I can’t. I don’t think I ever will. A break will put things into perspective for both of us.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.” He growled as you rolled your eyes. “How could you think those things? I need you more than anything else.” His anger was fuelled as you scoffed again, as if he was lying. “Don’t you dare hink that there’s anything past or present that I’d put before you. You’re the only thing that matters. I promise.”

“You may believe that, but your words only carry so much weight when they’re not followed up by actions. I know you’re not the cheating type,” You rambled pulling on your hair and sighing, it was all so overwhelming “I don’t know what to believe. When I go days without speaking to you – what else am I supposed to believe?”

He hesitantly snaked an arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him, relieved that you didn’t stop him or push him away again, “Just give me one chance to prove myself. I know I’ll never be worthy of you but I don’t want us to give up so easily. Not without putting up a fight.” He gritted pulling your chin up as your hands played with the buttons on his shirt. “And you know how good I am at putting up a fight. I’ll always fight for you,” He smiled pulling your chin up to look at your pretty face.

“Okay,” You sniffled. “You’re always so good with words.” You smiled shaking your head.

He hummed at that. “I got you to go out with me, didn’t I?”

“What are you doing here anyway? Didn’t you have work?” you wanted to know.

He shushed you, pulling you into his chest and pressing his face in the crook of your neck. He craved your warmth and comfort especially after almost losing you. “I’ll never take you for granted again.” He nuzzled your neck before kissing it. “We can go venue hunting tomorrow. For the wedding.”

You smiled in his hold “Well I don’t know about that. Maybe the wedding planning can wait for a while.”

He hummed as he rested his chin on top of your head. He had his work cut out for him if he intended to keep you. He made a mental note of calling Tony first thing in the morning. “I hate it when we fight.” He said rocking you in his arms “But I like the making up part.”

You playfully smacked his chest. You just knew he was cheekily grinning. “I agree.” You giggled.

You hadn’t fought a whole lot throughout your relationship, but the make up sex was always amazing.

You gulped nervously as he captured your lips in a bruising and breath taking kiss. Letting you know just how much he loved you. You hummed as his hands caressed the soft skin of your ass, squeezing it lightly before he pulled you up.

You yelped as you wrapped your legs around his narrow waist. You trailed kisses down his jaw as he carried you to your bed. Giving him a nip or two here and there, smiling against his throat as you felt the vibrations of his moans.

He gently dropped you on your comfortable mattress, you giggled as you bounced.

Steve hovered above you, he was so large, he was the only thing you could look at. Your shaky hands worked on unbuttoning his shirt as he pulled your night shirt up, groaning at the sight of your soft nipples, hardening so easily at his touch. He pulled one in his mouth as he thoroughly sucked on it.

“Oh, Steve.” You moaned as his hand came up to pay some attention to your other breast, fondling it in his hand before tugging your stiff peak with his fingers. You gasped as he bit you. “Oh I’ll definitely feel that tomorrow,” You sighed pulling your shirt over your head as he made his way down your body, settling between your legs.

He looked at you as you bit your lip, your breasts laid flat as you chest heaved with anticipation. He let out a guttural sound as he saw and smelled just how aroused and wet you were for him. He licked a firm stripe up your warm folds before capturing your bundle of nerves in his mouth, harshly sucking on it as he worked you up with his fingers to get you ready for him.

The moans and mewls from your mouth and the squelching of his fingers were something akin to a symphony to his ears. He cooed as you thrashed wildly when he pulled away. “Steve!” You whined.

“Just a minute baby. You remember what we talked about? Patience.” He said as he quickly got rid of his clothes. His throbbing erection ached to be inside you. But he couldn’t help but tease his sweet girl a bit as he stroked himself above you, much to your displeasure.

He chuckled as you kicked your legs. “Patience,” He reminded you again as he bent to suck a bruise on your breast. He pulled away with a pop, pleased with the way your skin bruised under his assault, “So you’ll always remember how much I love you.” He murmured in your neck as he slowly entered your channel.

He stayed inside you just like that for a few minutes, it was comfortable like a warm hug, it felt like home because you were his home. No matter how many times he made love to you, he could never get used to how wet and tight you felt.

He sucked a few more love bites on your neck he knew you’d give him hell for later but in the moment he couldn’t bring himself to care.

He rocked his hips, slowly and tortuously pulling out of you before pushing back in till he bottomed out, searching for your special spot, he knew he found it when you threw your head back and started blabbering nonsense.

Your hips matched his pace, trying their best to keep up with his super strength and agility. He propped himself up on his elbows, he needed to see you, see your face twist in pleasure as he did such sinful things to you. Except they rarely ever felt sinful to him. It felt as if he was expressing his love for you by pleasing you and worshipping you.

“How could you ever think I don’t care about you?” He asked not really expecting an answer, what with you being so preoccupied and your mind too far gone to listen to him, as he drove his hips up harshly.

You shook your head muttering apologises and chanting his name as he felt you clench around him. Your nails dug into his shoulders, holding onto him as your orgasm hit you in waves of pleasure.

“I need you to say it.” He demanded. His thrusts lost any sense of rhythm simply pounding into you with abandon as he chased his release. “Say that you know that I love you.” He rasped as his hips stuttered. “Say. It.” He punctuated with a few more thrusts before he emptied inside you, panting into the crook of your neck.

“I know you love me Steve.” You mumbled as you ran your fingers through his hair. “I love you more.”

You felt him shake his head as he pecked your lips. “That’s not possible.”

“Yes it is!” You huffed incredulously.

“Agree to disagree.” He stated not really in the mood to fight with you anymore as you smacked his bicep, scoffing at him before muttering a ‘whatever’ under your breath. He pulled you on top of him still connected to your heat as he felt his spend spill out of you. “Can we stay like this for a bit?” He asked somewhat shyly.

You hummed, “Yes of course.” You sleepily mumbled against his soft and warm chest.

He listened to your breathing and steady heartbeat as you slipped into a dreamless slumber.

He couldn’t sleep. He only ever slept a couple of hours every night and now after everything that perspired, he was scared he’d fall asleep and you’d be gone when he wakes up.

There was no way in hell he’d ever let you. He’d give up the shield if he had to. He was as stupidly stubborn as you if not more. He was sure he’d fix everything as he kissed the top of your head and covered the pair of you with the comforter. So you’d feel as warm and comfortable as him.

Tags will be in the reblog! Click the link in the bio to be join the taglist or shoot me an ask/dm.

Comments and feedback are appreciated! ❤❤

Idk how Sharon comes off in this but no Sharon hate please! I don't have an opinion on her but I believe in girls supporting girls. Thank you😘😘

#reader x steve rogers #steve rogers x oc #steve rogers x reader #chris evans x reader #steve x reader #captain america x reader #steve rogers x you #marvel x reader #avengers x reader

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91percentpynch · 3 years

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lonely heart - kevaaron au pt 4

oh look it‘s me, coming out of my dark hole to make you suffer with a super sad chapter with a nasty cliffhanger:) so get your tissues ready and enjoy!! okay first of all sorry that i didn‘t update this in a g e s and that it‘s rather short and for the cliffhanger, but i‘ll try to update it more regularly now:)

check this out for the other parts:)

trigger warnings: drug abuse, mention of suicide, mention of mental health issues, very sad aaron, mention of blood

“You were too good for me”, Aaron whispered into the void. “You were way too fucking good for me. You made me a better man. And I fucked up”

Aaron got up as he felt the tears burning in his eyes. He knew he wouldn‘t be able to sleep alone tonight. Like every single goddamn night since he left Kevin. Like every single goddamn night since he made the biggest mistake of his life.

„Taylor?“, the blonde haired boy murmered, „You up?“

„Babe, you know I‘m up. My girlfriend lives three states away, we talk every single day at the same time as you call your man. Not that I would be able to sleep when you call him, cause a) i love Day and b) you‘re always sad and high and end up in my room anygays, so did he take the phone darling?“

Taylor was Aaron‘s roommate and the closest thing he had to a best friend. She had been there for him every single day, cuddled him, held him while he cried and dried his tears afterwards. And Aaron did the same when she misssed her girlfriend too much.

„You do realize he is not my man anymore, I fucked that up. Big time. He did actually take the phone just to tell me to fuck off and stop calling“

„You could always go over there and say it in his pretty face. Didn’t say you can’t come over did he?Pro point: Might lead to making out“, Taylor said while taking him in her arms. „Plus another pro point: you‘d get sober again. And you‘re less moody. No offense but a Kevin-less Aaron is hardly managable, like you‘re either a whiny little bitch or you‘ll give me the death glare of the cenutry. Legit worse than Andrew‘s and I called him a cute little baby boo once when I was drunk and he almost stabbed me right there with a look on his face like I just murdered Neil in front of him“

„Tay, I take that as a compliment. And we both know Kevin’s a bit of a dumbass so he did not exactly tell me Not To Come over just stopp calling. Anyways I don‘t even know where he lives. And stop talking about me getting high, you do the same shit“

„Yeah but I know my limits and I have not the same history as you. And for the i DoN‘t EvEn KnOwS wHeRe He LiVeS, phone number. Now“

„O- okay“, Aaron said and told her Kevin‘s phone number while Taylor calmingly stroked his back.

„Neat, got him“, Taylor said after a while. „He‘s with the scary big dude and his adorable little boyfriend I think? I have their address right here, I think we‘re gonna visit them tomorrow cause it‘s like 4 am right now and we don‘t wanna rob him his beauty sleep plus we don‘t want to wake the scary big dude. And I‘m pretty sure the adorable small golden retriver boy could and would stab us“

„Did you just stalk my ex and located his phone at 4 am like fucking Garcias in Criminal Minds?“, Aaron said confused.

„Anything for you big guy. And as I said I miss Day‘s pretty face, preferably in your pretty face so you shut the fuck up about how stressed and depressed and lonely you are.“, Taylor chuckled as Aaron looked at her shocked.

„Well I miss Casey, preferable in your face so YOU shut up“, Aaron was never as good in witty remarks as his brother. Especially high Aaron.

„Babe I think it‘s time for you to go to bed, you‘re not fun when you‘re sad, high and tired. Come here, let me cuddle you, while you whiney little bitch sleep“

Aaron slowly went over to Taylor and into her loving arms, laying down, trying to fall asleep.

After a long while aaron drifted into sleep, just to be greeted by familiar smaragd eyes. In his dream Kevin and he never broke up. Kevin was on top of him, his hands gently discovered Aaron‘s body, touching him as if he was sacred, something to worship. Kevin‘s lips were at Aaron‘s ear whispering sweet nothingness. Aaron‘s hips moved against Kevin‘s loving touch. „Stress release“ Kevin called these holy moments in dawn. „Highlight of my day“ Aaron called them.

The dream was as beautiful as it was cruel. It was as if his body, his mind were as much refusing as able to believe that Kevin was gone. It was his own fault, Aaron knew it. But the ever present voice of his mother, disapproving and disgusting, in his head was just too much for him to handle. He thought - foolish as Aaron was - that the pain of living without Kevin would be better, less cruel, less painful. But he never knew real love and therefore never experienced its lost. Until that faitful day. Until Kevin took his bags and left.

Aaron was used to pain. The hot one after an extraordinarily vicious hit. The cold one when his mother died. The numbing one when the hunger was growing more and more unbareable. But nothing was even slightly as hard to handle as the loss of Kevin in his life.

Kevin was the first good thing Aaron had. He gave him a will to stay, to try, to give this stupid sport everything he got. And Exy turned into more mundane things like getting his eating routine under control or getting a more or less acceptable sleeping schedule. The dark days were still there, for both of them, and they would probably never leave them completely alone, but they got less. And when they did happen they would hold each other together.

Ever since he fucked up things with Kevin, Aaron had more and more dark days. The voice of his mother telling him he‘s a failure, the bored stare of his brother and Aaron convincing himself Andrew wouldn‘t even bet an eye if he died, the voice telling him the world would be a better place without him growing louder and lourder every passing day.

Logically he could say that the death of a single person wouldn‘t change much for the over all world population, expect maybe it‘s some kind of insane mademan dicator or someone important, but still. It made sense. All he did after all was fucking up, being a failure, never good enough, never perfect.

His lonely heart only screamed Kevin‘s name and he knew if Kevin didn‘t take him back, his life wouldn‘t make much sense anymore. Well he would definetly not tell Kevin that. He would not manipulate Kevin into loving him, because that wouldn‘t be much better than not having him at all.

Aaron woke up the next day around noon. He didn‘t really feel like getting up, like getting up was simply too much. But Aaron knew he had to. He didn‘t want to worry Taylor more than he already did. And it would end today. One way or the other.

So he got up, put on the first pair of black jeans he could find and the first sweater his hands could find. Ironically it was one of the sweaters Kevin gave him, on the third of december last year. It was one of Aaron‘s favourites as well.

„Ready for the big Day, small guy?“, Taylor said winking at him.

„Not really? What the fuck am I supposed to do there anyways?“, Aaron replied on his way to the coffee maker.

„Talk to him? Deliver one of those borderline cringe big speeches. Get im flowers. Break into his bedroom and say ‚Draw me like one of your french girls‘, naked of course“, Taylor laughed at the face Aaron made, listening to her suggestions.

„I think I like the big speech. I mean I‘m shit with words, but I‘m sure you want to help your boy getting ‚his man‘ back, right? Also what kind of flowers would you give someone you dumped cause the voice of your dead mother told you it was wrong and disgusting, which you never told him for obvious reasons?“

„Honey, you‘re so fucked up sometimes, I love you but you should go to a therapist or something. Also I‘d say sunflowers or roses? I don‘t speak flowers man, I‘m the tech nerd. Not the romantic one, the nerd. But we‘re gonna make a snazzy speech and you‘re gonna get your man back“

After their typical breakfast - if Aaron didn‘t forget to eat again - they sat down together on the living room floor, paper and pen ready, trying to write the world changing speech.

„Why is this so fucking hard? Why can I only tell him how much I love and miss him when I‘m high off my ass“, Aaron complained.

„What about you don‘t think about him that much. Just tell me what you love about him and then we write that down?“, Taylor suggested.

Aaron took a deep breathe and closed his eyes. „I loved him because he was the first one who saw me. Aaron Minyard. And not just the other Minyard, the lesser twin, the shadow of Andrew. He looked at me and somehow chose me. Even if he could have had everyone else. He chose me, even though I‘m not special. Kevin chose the failure when he could have had the first prize. He looked at me and saw something worth loving, worth keeping around. Hardly anyone could tell Andrew and me apart. But it took him less than a day to do so. Kevin is strong, so so strong and somehow chose the most fragile thing he could find, took it and made it worth soemthing. Kevin made me feel something. Not numbness. Not pain. Something warm and beautiful and living. He gave me a reason to stay alive. Kevin made my life bearable, he made my life beautiful. We were both broken and we would probably still be broken if we were together but we softened each other‘s edges. Kevin believed in me when no one else would. He knew how I felt, knew what I needed and when I needed it. Kev gave me love and safety and I kicked it with my feet. This man is like a god who fell for whatever reasons for a homeless man. And I know I don‘t deserve him but I also know I cannot live without him. And I know that I must tell him that before it‘s too late. If it‘s not too late already“

Taylor wipped a tear out of her eyes. „That‘s it. You tell him that and we‘ll get him back“, she said. „Can I hug you?“

„Sure you loser“

„Ah there is my boy“

They spent the rest of the afternoon writing down the speech, making edits here and there. In the end Aaron collected the pages and went to his room to change. He replaced Kevin‘s sweater with a simple black jumper, put on his Docs, got his keys and left.

Aaro did feel a little uncomfortable, stalking Kevin like that. But he knew this was his chance to fix things. This was his chance to get Kevin back, to make his life worth living again. Which to be fair was a bit selfish, but you are allowed to be a little selfish sometimes, aren‘t you?

Jean and Jeremy‘s apartment complex was a 15 minute drive away from the flat Aaron shared with his three roommates. Theirs was fanzier, obviously. After all Jeremy was a professional Exy player and Jean was some kind of semi famous artist or fashion maker or whatever. They could give Kevin the world. They could give him what he desereved. All Aaron had to offer was an apology and his love. No money. Not yet anyway. Just anxiety, depression and stress.

But if Kevin was willing to take his love, to give Aaron one more chance, he promised himself Aaron would make it count. He will tell Kevin how much he loves Kevin every single god damn day. Aaron will get therapy and work on his issues. Sober up and this time for good. He will do anything to be worth of god‘s love. Just that god in his case was a twenty two year old boy with black hair, forming soft waves at the end and a smile that will make the sun jealous. Eyes made out of smaragd. Lips so sinful and kissable.

Aaron sat down in front of the door, waiting for his courage to come back to him. He could do this. He would get his man back.

Hours passed, or maybe it were only minutes or seconds after all before someone came closer. Ever so slowly Aaron lifted his head, just to look in the ever so familiar green eyes, big with shock.

„You said to stop calling. You never mentioned face to face conversations“, Aaron said, his voice hoarse.

Kevin stared at him as if he was a ghost, a reminder of his past life, something he rather wanted to forget.

„Look I know I fucked up. I know I‘m not good enough for you. I know you deserve the world and I cannot give it to you. And when you look me in the eyes and tell me you don‘t feel anything for me anymore, no love or hate or affection or whatever humans feel, I will turn away right now and go and never come back. Never bother you again. But if you allow me to apologize, if you however decide to gieve me one last chance, I prepared this whole ass speech for you“

Aaron was sure they could hear his heart beating against his chest, roaring, screaming to return home. To return to Kevin where it belonged.

Kevin‘s eyes wandered to the floor, his fingers automatically closed around his left wrist. A nervous habit. Just another little part that makes Aaron‘s heart ache.

Slowly, almost painfully slowly, he lifted those unbelieveable beautiful eyes and met Aaron‘s golden ones. Kevin studied him and the world around them stopped.

Out of the corner of Aaron‘s eyes he could see Jean going still, his breathing too calm, too even. It‘s the same thing Andrew does when someone fucks with Josten. At least his death would be fast. Or slow. Whatever. Aaron didn‘t really care, without Kevin it wasn‘t worth anygthing anyway.

„Why“, Kevin said after what feels like forever, „Why would I forgive you? Why would I give you another chance? Why would you think you can come back here just to fuck me over again? Aaron I loved you, I really did. I always will. You were my first love and maybe, yeah maybe, my last one. But right now I can‘t. I just, I just can‘t. Please leave. Please leave me alone. For now. Maybe, one day we can talk about it. But right now I cannot handle the thought of you to leave me. To tell me all these beautiful lies, to cut me open and leave me to bleed out. I love you“, tears were running down Kevin‘s cheek. Tears Aaron one day, a long time ago, promised himself he would never let Kevin feel again. Pain. Sadness. Everything because of his failure, because of his weakness, because he‘s a fucking piece of shit.

„Thank you for giving me a reason to stay. Jusst remember that you were my light, my warmth, my happiness and I never stopped loving you. Never will. Please just be happy“, Aaron replied as he turned around to walk to his cars.

When he was sure he was out of ear shot, he let himself feel. Feel the pain. Feel the loneliness. Feel the numbness and the cold and the hatred. It was in that moment, that moment where he was alone and nothing more to lose, that he decided that it was enough. He would end it. End it tonight.

„Thank you“, he texted Taylor. „I‘m glad I didn‘t eat you in the womb“, he texted Andrew. „You were not so bad after all“, he sent to Neil. And lastly „Thank you for taking me under your wing“, to Nicky. They would understand. It would take them some time but in the end they would feel better. They would be happier without them. Because at the end of the day he caused them pain and wasn‘t really worth a thing.

So when he got in his car, tears running uncontrallably down his cheeks, he knew what he had to do.

#all for the game #the foxhole court #the raven king #the king’s men #kevin day #aaron minyard #ship: kevaaron #kevaaron

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merryfortune · 3 years

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The Clumsiest Dream Eater

Written for @yanmazu <3

As part of the @precuresecretexchange

Fandom: Healin’ Good PreCure & Yes! PreCure 5

Ship: Nodoka & Nozomi

Word Count: 1.3k

Tags: Alternate – Magic Mundane, Youkai, Chronic Illness, Hurt/Comfort, youkai!Nozomi

AN: I hope you enjoy, I had a lot of fun writing these two’s friendship

Nodoka woke with panic when she heard a tray in her room, or something similar, clatter to the ground. It clanged over and over again on the ground, and Nodoka heard muttered fuss, as well.

Her heart raced and for good reason. She had just spent goodness knows how many hours, thrashing, hot and sweaty, against her bed but unable to wake up but now. For better or for worse, she was finally awake, and she could finally reef herself from the terrors of the nightmare that she was experiencing.

But as her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she caught a silhouette haloed by a faint, pink light.

“Oh, oops…?” a voice in the dark murmured.

Nodoka blinked. This was a private hospital room. There shouldn’t be anyone – not even a nurse – at this hour but here she was. She had gained some kind of company in the wee hours of the night and though she ought to be afraid. She wasn’t.

Staring at this figure who came a little bit closer, Nodoka felt calmed.

“Sorry to disturb you,” she said, “but it’s decided. A girl’s got to eat and you look really tasty.”

“What?!” Nodoka exclaimed, her words feeling groggy.

The figure all but screamed back in fright, “Oh, no, I’m such a dummy, I didn’t mean it like that!” She thumped on her head and Nodoka saw more of what exactly made this girl and her teleportation into a locked hospital room unusual.

She had diamond-shaped ears atop her head, right in front of the tufted pigtails that she wore, tiny and tapir-like, Nodoka thought. She had tusks, too, on either side of her cheek like a huge smile. A cow-like tail whipped and thrashed about her in clumsy panic.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, I’m hear to eat your bad dreams.” The girl said. “My name is Nozomi and I’m a Baku, it’s good to meet you.”

Nodoka blinked. “Really?”

“Truly.” Nozomi smiled.

“thank you…” Nodoka whispered. “I was having a really scary dream, you know.”

“I can tell.” Nozomi replied quietly. “But I haven’t eaten your bad dream yet, I’m afraid. I was about to but ughhhh. I bumped into something and woke you up.”

She sashayed over to Nodoka and sat at her bedside. Nozomi pet the top of Nodoka’s head and she smiled.

“But don’t worry, I can still eat it. The vapours of it are still all around.” Nozomi explained.

Nodoka smiled with pinpricks of tears her eyes. She held onto her blanket, the softness of it was comforting.

“Still. Thank you.” Nodoka smiled a weary smile.

“It’s my pleasure.” Nozomi replied in what she hoped was a soft, comforting voice. (It was.)

Nozomi’s hand fell back from atop Nodoka’s fluffy bob of russet hair and took her head. She closed her eyes and the vapours of Nodoka’s nightmare became illuminated. They looked like petals, Nodoka thought. They fluttered around, haloed by pink light and it was beautiful. They shone like stars in the stagnant darkness of her hospital room and she smiled delightedly.

As she ate, Nozomi could tell that Nodoka was happy. That she was looking on with awe and wonder as Nozomi had Nodoka’s nightmares for a late-night snack. They held each other’s hands as one by one, the rose petals of light disappeared. Absorbed by Nozomi who nattered contentedly as she mulled over the various flavours of Nodoka’s fears. It was almost sad, Nodoka thought, as she watched the final rose petal disappear.

“Thank you for this meal.” Nozomi gurgled happily.

“Thank you for coming around.” Nodoka giggled.

Nozomi got to her feet and it sounded like hooves, truth be told, on the floorboards. She stretched herself left and then right. It was always good to exercise after a meal, or so the doctors said, Nodoka thought as she observed how Nozomi flexed. She then turned on her heel and flashed a huge smile.

“I best be going home now.” Nozomi said.

“What, no? I was… I was, um, hoping you could stay.” Nodoka said and she outreached her hand.

“Really, why?” Nozomi said.

Nodoka grew fidgety and she averted her gaze. Nozomi was very bright. “I-It’s – It’s, um, kind of like a pyjama party.” she confessed in a tiny voice.

Nozomi gasped. “Yeah, it is kinda.” She giggled.

Nodoka smiled awkwardly.

“Its against the rules for me to stay too long but I’ll let you in on a little secret.” Nozomi said and she came down to her knees at Nodoka’s bedside. She rested her chin in her hands on the bed and she gazed dotingly up at Nodoka. “Baku are good luck charms.”

“They are?” Nodoka asked.

“A-yup.” Nozomi chirruped. “So whilst I can’t stay long, I can make sure you have sweet dreams for all the rest of the night, if you like.”

“I’d appreciate that…” Nodoka replied.

“Okeydokey.”

Nozomi got up again but her hands, like paws, remained kneading on the bed side where Nodoka sat upright. She leaned in and pecked Nodoka’s forehead.

“Baku like me live deep in the forest and tonight, I hope you get to visit in your dreams.” Nozomi replied.

Nodoka blushed. There was a gentle glow atop her forehead, an echo of Nozomi’s kiss.

“I hope we’re able to hang out later, too.” Nozomi added.

Nodoka lifted her hand to her forehead, like she would if she was trying to gauge a fever. She was warm, she noted with a fuzzy feeling in her heart rather than an ominous one.

“Thank you, Nozomi, I’m glad to have met you.” Nodoka replied.

“I shouldn’t wish nightmares on people,” Nozomi erred, “but I hope we meet again soon.”

“Me too.” Nodoka replied but she laughed darkly. She knew that she had more bad dreams than good dreams, but it was strangely heartening to know they weren’t wasted, if it meant a Baku could eat…

“Good night, Nodoka, and sweet dreams too.” Nozomi whispered.

Nodoka yawned and her eyelids grew heavy. Her heart was calm. Contented. She didn’t want to fall back asleep. Not just yet but Nozomi waved her goodbye and just as she blinked, slowly, like in a trance, she fell back asleep. Her head hit the pillow and her last thoughts were of Nozomi. And that pink glow that Nozomi possessed dissipated, became not even a flicker on Nodoka’s closed eyelids as she succumbed to slumber.

Please don’t be dream, please don’t be a dream, please don’t be a delirium-

She missed Nozomi already, but she fell asleep and she dreamt of vast, bamboo valleys and tall mountains and yes, of Nozomi who played and talked with others of her kin. All of them were oxen-tailed and hoofed and with diamond-shaped, tapir ears. None of them saw Nodoka, she felt translucent even in the dream, but she enjoyed it, nonetheless. She could swear she felt the gentle zephyrs on her skin, and she could swear that she smelt the fresh, mountain air. It was lovely.

But like all dreams, Nodoka did awaken in the morning and she still remembered her otherworldly companion from the night before. She was roused by a nurse for her morning meal and the woman blinked.

“Did you sleep on your stomach, last night?” she asked.

“Huh? I don’t think so.” Nodoka replied.

“You have a mark on your forehead, is all.” the nurse explained.

Nodoka’s heart soared. Later, after breakfast, Nodoka looked in the mirror and beamed as she held back her fringe. Her gaze transfixed on that slightly curved mark of a faint pink that was on her forehead. It may have been feeble proof, but it was still proof. The balm that Nozomi used on her lips still remained on Nodoka’s forehead from where she had gifted her with a good, sweet dream of where the Baku like herself hailed.

#precure secret exchange #yanmazu #nodoka hanadera #nozomi yumehara #healin good precure #yes precure 5 #precure #healin good #writing tag #merry writes stuff #i hope this doesn't come across as too shippy cuz i really started digging the dynamic

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mysticalparadisetale · 3 years

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Are Ghosts real? — Scientific evidence for Ghosts

Ghosts are everywhere. We’ve seen them in films, in books, or if you’re too terrified to watch a scary movie (like me) you might at least have heard a few ghost stories.

As far back as we can trace human life, there’s evidence that every culture around the world believed that there’s some non-physical essence to life. It’s because humans are curious and we want to know what’s happening around us. It’s a good thing but what’s not good is rendering something as supernatural when we have no explanation for its mysteriousness.

It can be presented better in the words of Carrie Poppy:

“Of course there are mysteries, but a mystery is a mystery. It’s not a Ghost.”

Psychological reasons for why we believe in ghosts

According to Barry Markovsky, a sociologist at the University of South Carolina, the human mind seeks patterns and tries to make sense of ambiguous things. Ghosts are always seen in ambiguous circumstances like when it is dark or when we’re half-conscious such as when we’re sleeping or waking up.

Missing loved ones

Ghosts, If you’re looking for one you'd likely to find one. Researchers say that Six in 10 grieving people 'see or hear dead loved ones'. Honestly, it’s more agonising to realise that our loved ones are gone forever than accepting a sweet lie.

Pareidolia

One of the reasons why we see faces or figures is Pareidolia. Pareidolia is a situation when we see an image or a pattern in something even where it doesn't exist.

Our brain processes information and it’s always correct. But when we are hallucinating, which of course is an illusion, we still believe it because we’re so used to the accuracy of our senses.

The brain works to make the sense of the world around itself and it’s so good at it that sometimes it finds meaning in meaningless things. That’s why we see faces in scuff marks on a wall or in clouds and of course the spooky figures in the dark.

The Science of Ghosts

Infrasound

Several ghost stories are easily explained through Infrasound. Infrared is a low-frequency sound below our auditory limit (20Hz). It can be produced by certain machines like engines or fans.

It’s a fact that we can’t hear it but it certainly messes with our nerves and can cause visual hallucinations, chills, and the eerie feeling of someone’s presence near you.

Peripheral Vision

It’s common to hear stories of people catching a glimpse of a ghost from the corner of their eye. Peripheral vision is our ability to see objects and movements outside of the direct line of vision. And Here’s how it works:

Our ability to detect motion increases at the edge of our peripheral vision whereas our ability to detect colour drops off considerably. This is because the periphery of our retina has fewer cones (cones are cells that detect colour and shape) and more rods which are better at detecting motion.

Our senses are heightened when we are alert which makes us likely to be frightened by otherwise mundane occurrences.

Sleep Paralysis

Sleep paralysis occurs when the usual rhythm of sleep is disrupted such as when we’re about to fall asleep or wake up from sleep. It’s when our eyes are active under our shut eyelids called REM sleep or Rapid Eye Movement. We are active and alert but the rest of the body is paralysed. It is to prevent us from acting out in our sleep and injuring ourselves.

Sleep paralysis occurs when the body wakes up from REM sleep. That means that we are still dreaming but have opened our eyes.

This is usually a terrifying phenomenon because that’s when the hallucinations occur. People have described seeing demons, intruders, or footsteps walking closer which is one of the primary causes people to report paranormal experiences.

Joe Nickell, a paranormal investigator, after 50 years of his research said:

“Not ever have I found a single case that I thought was proof of a ghost neither has science. Not a single ghost or haunting has been authenticated by science.”

Physics vs Ghosts

Ghosts are considered supernatural because their presence can’t be validated or proved by science. Isn’t it ambiguous that the only proof of them is of oral stories or ambiguous photographs?

The characteristics of ghosts we know defy all scientific laws of nature. They are invisible but some are caught in videos, they can pass through solid objects but can also open/close doors when no one is around.

Theoretical Astrophysicist, Dan Hooper explained that if ghosts are visible and can take any kind of physical form then they must be made up of atoms (like every other thing in the universe).

The electrons around atoms have a very strong repulsive force and that’s why solid objects can’t move through each other and here’s exactly why you can’t pass through a wall. If that’s the case, then ghosts can’t pass through solid objects either.

Therefore, we have to assume that they are made of something more exotic like Neutrinos also called Ghost Particles. Neutrinos have no electric charge—they’re neutral.

Since they have no electric charge, therefore they exert a repulsive force against other matter and can easily pass through solids.

BUT if ghosts were made of neutrinos then they would not emit any electromagnetic radiation or light. Mind you many ghost hunters use EMF meters to detect ghosts and they basically measure the electromagnetic fields that ghosts are assumed to simulate.

Some people believe that the reason why we still don’t have valid proof is that we don’t have the right technology to detect the spirit world but we can also detect them with our senses. That’s certainly not a very clever assumption.

Well, sorry to burst your bubble but so far there aren’t any scientific proofs for the existence of Ghosts.

Story of Carrie Poppy

Carrie Poppy is a journalist and a paranormal investigator. In a TED Talk, Carrie Poppy shared her story of when she thought her house was haunted by a ghost.

Here’s how it goes…

While living in her house in LA (which I’m assuming she had recently moved into), she started to feel as if it was rather haunted. Poppy would constantly feel pressure on her chest, which only got worse. She even started to hear whispers. That’s not all, Poppy said she would sit on her bed and cry all night for no apparent reason.

Poppy was then sure that evil spirits were living in her house. She talked to her friend and as anyone would, her friend suggested a cleansing ritual.

This should’ve been the end of the story. Well not so quick.

The cleansing ritual had no effect and the eerie feeling didn’t go away. After a little search, she stumbled upon a team of ghost hunters, whom she referred to as “Skeptics”. They believed that every ghost case could be explained through science.

That’s exactly what they did. Thanks to those “Skeptics”, Poppy came to realise that there was a gas leak in her house and the ghost that kept haunting her was, in fact, Carbon Monoxide Poisoning. Mind you the common symptoms of CO poisoning are auditory hallucinations, unexplained dread, and chest pain.

Poppy had to call the gas company to fix the leak and one of the members told her that she was lucky because she would’ve died if she hadn’t called them earlier.

Imagine if Poppy hadn’t called the Company, she probably would’ve died. Her house would’ve been added to the unending list of haunted houses.

Poppy is now a paranormal investigator, she claims to have solved 70 cases in her life, and according to her:

“9 times out of 10 science wins, Saves the day, it’s all explained

That’s not true, The truth is

10 times out of 10, science wins, it saves the day”

Swiss Scientists were able to produce a “ghost” in a lab. They created a robot with a mechanical arm. The robot’s arm touches the subject’s back and mimics the movements of the subject’s arm. A slight delay in the movement of its arm creates a ghostly feeling.

This shows how manipulating certain parts of your brain can easily misconstruct reality.

Think about it, If our souls could turn into ghosts after death then there would be more ghosts in this world than the number of people alive. Also, most murder cases could solve easily. Overall, it would be a terrifying world.

Next time if you feel a presence, just think of how many annual deaths are caused by ghosts. EXACTLY!!

Sources

Ghosts: Fact or Fiction? | The Psychology of Extraordinary Beliefs

A scientific approach to the paranormal | Carrie Poppy

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LF MuLqZ1z a&t=74s

Halloween Special: Is There Any Scientific Evidence for the Paranormal?

Ghost Particles | National Geographic

Why do people believe in ghosts?

The science of ghosts

6 Possible Scientific Reasons for Ghosts

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ghost

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cynicalrainbows · 4 years

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Inner Voice Chapter 2

I hope people enjoy this! Please drop me a line if you did, it means the world to me to hear what people think!

This chapter is plotless fluff because I will never tire of the queens taking care of Kitty in their own ways!

TW for negative thought spirals because Kitty is an Anxious Babey.

It plays on her mind the whole way home, as she makes the entire journey again in reverse- complete with two missed busses, one delayed train, one spilled latte, one woman blowing cigarette smoke in her face and one man hitting her in the shins with his briefcase all the way to Islington.

Is she manipulative?

Henry always said she was- and if it’s something that even the interviewer was able to pick up on….?

She hasn’t thought about Henry- intentionally- for a while: she deliberately blocks him from her mind when she can.

Now though, a seed of doubt takes root: was he right?

Is there something fundamentally wrong with her?

She gets home late, refuses dinner. The others have already eaten- they’ve saved a plate for her and kept it warming in the oven but she has no appetite and she shakes her head when Jane asks if she’d like something else, disappearing to her room as soon as she can.

Dreams that she’d thought were over and done with keep her tossing restlessly all night, caught in the gulf between sleeping and waking when everything is a little unreal. She knows the stiff-stern faces of the courtroom and the smell of blood are just her own mind but she’s less sure about the feeling of a hand against her hair- caressing rather than grasping, for once. It’s not Anna’s hand, she knows, so it must be a dream.

(It’s still soothing though. She wouldn’t mind dreaming that again.)

When she rouses slightly near morning (the black shadows of her room are turning to grey), she’s mildly surprised to see that her covers are tucked snugly around her for once rather than kicked to the floor as they usually are after a nightmare.

It’s very strange.

She’d gone to bed the night before with her whole body aching and her head gently throbbing, but she’d set her alarm as usual, of course.

It doesn’t wake her though.

Instead, she’s been woken by the movement: a steaming mug of tea is set down on her bedside table.

‘Mmmmm?’

‘It’s only me, love’ Jane perches on the edge of the bed and reaches out to brush a stray strand of hair away from her face. ‘We thought you-’

Before she can finish, Kitty's eyes come to rest on her alarm clock and she sits bolt upright in bed, heart suddenly pounding.

‘Jane! It’s late- I’m late, I forgot to set the alarm, I’m so sorry-’

How could she have messed up like this? Was she such an idiot she couldn't be trusted to press a button? Henry would have said so, had he been asked. He’d never liked her for her mind, he’d made that clear, had even made a fuss in the early days of enjoying her innocence and naivety...later, as the glow wore off, what he’d first found endearing had come to irritate him more and more.

‘It’s alright!’ Jane gently presses her back against her pillows and hands her the mug of tea. It’s warmth is soothing. ‘It’s alright, don't worry, you didn't forget….we all thought you would need as much rest as you could get, after the week you've had, so I turned it off so you could have a bit longer.’ Her smile falters. ‘I’m sorry, I know it was terribly invasive but you just looked so weary last night-’

She feels a pang of guilt- for making Jane worry about her and now for making her feel bad for doing something nice. It’s not Jane’s fault- there’s no way Jane could know what being late for things meant for her.

(‘A disgrace….not fit to be queen….My punishment for allowing myself to be bewitched by some ignorant chit-’)

She takes a sip of the tea to drown out the words- it’s sweet, with cinnamon and honey, the way Jane always makes it, and it gives her something else to focus on, momentarily at least.

‘Won't we be late though?’

‘No, we should be fine, you’ve still got time to get ready- and ten minutes wont hurt just this once, even if we do get held up. No one will mind.’

The easy way Jane brushes it off is astounding- Henry had always been terribly impatient, huffing and tapping his foot even if she was early, reminding her that lateness was the ultimate mark of disrespect.

Jane doesn’t look at all worried about this, but then again, Jane would never have to worry about being thought rude. No one, she thinks, could ever claim that against the blonde queen- her soft smile is the antithesis of anything even slightly negative.

‘Ok- thank you for the tea.’

‘You’re welcome, love.’

It shouldn’t make her so happy, Jane calling her that- she knows it doesn’t mean anything at all, that Jane uses it with all the queens and is most likely only including Kitty to keep her from feeling left out.

(Still, it does. Make her happy, that is.)

Entering the kitchen, hair still wet from her hurried shower, she has to dodge around Catalina, who’s carrying a plate of Nutella toast. It smells wonderful and her stomach growls but she knows there's no time to make any for herself- she can make do with an apple from the fruit bowl if there are any left.

(It’s fine. She’s gone without food before. Sometimes- like last night- it’s been out of her own choice. Other times…..it hasn’t.)

Catalina sets the plate on the table but makes no move to sit down. Instead, she just stands there, looking expectantly at Kitty.

‘Go on, mija.’

She’s still perplexed and wonders if she's in the way, if Catalina wants something from the countertop behind her- but even when she jumps hurriedly to the side, mumbling an apology, the woman is still just looking at her.

‘It’ll go cold.’

‘What?’

Coming towards her, Catalina gently guides her into a kitchen chair (she resists the urge to flinch away and feels mildly proud of herself), then pushes the plate in front of her.

‘Eat, mija.’

‘Oh no-’ She pushes the plate away as if it's red hot. This is not what she intended, she never wanted to guilt Catalina into giving away her own breakfast.

Why did she have to let herself stare at the woman’s food, of course that would make her feel uncomfortable-

(‘Trying to play the innocent, we all know what you’re doing-’)

‘It’s yours-’

Catalina laughs. ‘I made it for you, Kitty. Jane said you’d be coming down a bit late.’ She tilts her head, a teasing note in her voice. ‘You think I would willingly choose that sticky-sweet stuff for myself?’

It’s true, now she thinks about it- Catalina detests Nutella, has made clear her view that marmalade or plain butter are the only acceptable accompaniments to toast. Perhaps it really is for her- although why the queen would make her breakfast, she doesn't know.

Unless…. She’d be lying if she said people had never done nice things for her, back in her old life. They did, Henry especially- gifts and favours, trinkets and gowns and jewels.

The trouble was never the present, it always came after: she always managed to spoil things. She was never grateful enough, she never responded properly, she’d say the wrong thing or not notice quickly enough….there was always something.

(The ‘scenes’ were so frequent she even- once or twice- found herself wondering whether the gifts, the favours, the surprises were really secondary to him, whether what he really wanted was the chance to berate her for her selfishness and ingratitude. She knew that suspecting such a thing in her own husband- in the King, no less- was unforgivable- but still, little things- the glint in his eye, the flush of his cheek, the glow it gave him, the way it seemed to divert him from his pain like nothing else did- made her wonder, even as she condemned her own soul in the process.)

She wonders if Catalina is doing the same thing- although it’s somehow much harder to suspect it of the woman in front of her than it was to suspect it of Henry. Catalina is imposing and a little bit scary- but she’s also straightforward to the point of bluntness, her feelings always absolutely clear.

(She wonders if it makes her a bad person that she’s more suspicious of her own husband than of a near-stranger.)

Catalina’s still watching her, her expression softer than usual.

‘You can eat it, mija. Really. Everything is ok.’

There’s nothing at all insistant in the woman’s tone- she doesn’t sound cross, only the slightest bit sad- but Kitty doesn’t think she has it in her to outright refuse….and actually, she doesn’t really want to.

She is hungry.

She takes a bite; it’s heavenly, in the way that food only tastes when you’re starving.

‘Good?’

‘Perfect. Thank you, you really didn't have to go to the trouble-’

‘You need a proper breakfast after your long day yesterday.’ She shrugs. ‘It was no trouble at all.’

She sounds like she means it- indeed, she doesn't even wait for, let alone ask for, more thanks.

‘I’m going to go make sure Cathy is still getting ready-’

She smiles at Kitty as she says it, as if it’s something they’re in on together, although Cathy’s ability to get sidetracked halfway through something is not exactly a secret- and it’s funny, how she says it- fondly, as if getting distracted is an endearing personality trait and not a mark of laziness.

(Even when she’s chiding Cathy for making them all late, she never sounds angry and Cathy- even when she sounds contrite- never sounds at all frightened.)

Although….Kitty supposes she can see the difference. Cathy, after all, never makes herself late on purpose- she’s just interested in too many things to keep her mind focused entirely on something as mundane as getting dressed or cleaning her teeth, and she always manages to make whatever she’s been distracted by sound like the most fascinating thing in the world, at least to Kitty.

There’s something nice about how happy and excited Cathy looks when she’s explaining something she’s interested in- all shiny eyed- that makes Kitty feel all warm and special that Cathy is including her in it rather than keeping all the interest just for herself, although of course she knows it’s nothing at all to do with her. She knows Cathy only explains things to her because she can’t not tell anybody and everybody, and because she doesn’t actually know yet that Kitty isn’t clever enough to be worth telling things to.

(‘There’s no point in explaining anything to you- as if you’d understand anyway, it would be a waste of my time-’)

If she did know, Kitty’s sure she wouldn’t bother.

The thought makes her feel a little bit sad.

(She hopes Cathy doesn’t find out any time soon.)

Her thoughts are interrupted by Anne popping her head around the door, dropping her pink tote in the doorway- ‘Here, Kitkat-’ and then vanishing again.

(Anne always calls her Kitkat- she never responds to or draws attention to the nickname in any way because she’s very much afraid Anne will stop if she does.)

When she picks the bag up so she can pack it, she finds it’s unusually heavy- her things have been gathered for her, her rehearsal clothes (that she was lamenting not having had time to wash) are folded into a neat bundle and smell freshly-laundered, of Anne’s fancy detergent that she buys online and won’t let anyone else use. Her pink water bottle is full, an unfamiliar tupperware holds a sandwich and some cherry tomatoes. There are carrot sticks- peeled and cut evenly, an apple, a cereal bar.

It’s funny, considering Anne frequently forgets to do her own laundry, that she’s rarely seen Anne’s own lunch consist of anything other than leftovers. Sometimes she forgets it all together and just subsists on snacks from the vending machine.

(Kitty occasionally suspects Anne of forgetting on purpose since she usually announces her ‘slip of the mind’ with a beaming smile and once stuck her tongue out triumphantly at Cathy when she caught her looking longingly at Anne’s pack of Oreos.)

She wants to call Anne back, to apologise for making her go to so much extra trouble for her, to promise that she wasn’t being lazy on purpose, that she was just too tired last night to be able to contemplate laundry or making lunch but that she never expected anyone else to have to step in….but it’s too late.

(She hopes Anne isn’t too annoyed at the extra work. She probably is.)

Anna is the last one to the car, rubbing sleep from her eyes and finger combing her short hair into place, and Kitty feels her shoulders sink in relief as Anna climbs into the back next to her.

It’s not that she doesn’t like the others, it’s not even that there’s anything wrong, she just….feels better when Anna is there.

Like she can breathe more easily.

(It’s always been like that. She once asked Anna if the air was different in Richmond because it was so far away from London, since she never felt her chest getting tight and her throat closing up on her when she visited. Anna had told her that Richmond Palace was still London, that actually, they weren’t far from court at all. For some reason, she’d looked terribly sad.)

‘Morning, Kitty- did you sleep well?’

She nods, breathing in Anna’s comforting shampoo-body-spray-leather-jacket smell.

‘I had the weirdest dream, I-’ She breaks off, clipping her seatbelt into place and leaning forward to jab Anne in the shoulder. ‘Anne, listen, I had the weirdest dream about you-’

‘Ow! That fucking hurt!’

‘Listen though, you were in my dream-’

‘Oh my god, you’re such a stalker-’

‘Shut up, just listen, we were at this park, right and there was this man-’

Kitty leans back in her seat and listens to them bicker and laugh, as Cathy fiddles with the radio dial and Jane reminds them all to put on their seatbelts (‘We are not leaving until everybody has- Catalina, if you pull out as I’m saying it, then it just defeats the purpose-’ ‘Look, as long as Kitty and Cathy are strapped in, it’s fine- Anne and Anna can take their chances as far as I’m concerned-’ ‘Hey!’), as Catalina mutters darkly in Spanish at the other cars on the road.

‘- and he was that man from the news, with the moustache, and you kept running up to him and telling him he needed to hurry because it was nearly Christmas-’

‘This had better get really weird really fast or it’s the most boring dream ever-’

‘Shut up, you made me listen to that whole dream about you just being in the Tesco queue-’

She likes listening to Anne and Anna usually- they’re fast and funny and cutting in a way she could never be- but it makes her sad too.

Anne is her cousin after all.

She doesn’t join in. She doesn’t even know how she’d join in.

She leans back and listens to them spar and wishes she could make Anne laugh that hard.

#six #sixfic #six the musical #six fanfiction #six the musical fanfiction

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faejilly · 4 years

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Into The Labyrinth

Uh. I have no explanation for this, really, besides the fact that I saw Inception again for the first time in ages and went ohh, right, this is great! Also Ariadne is such a warlock name, I couldn’t help it.

@shadowhunterbingo square: crossover

More specifically: Shadowhunters/Inception Crossover, Arthur/Eames, background Malec, Ariadne POV. Guess who just found the Shadow World?

Ariadne isn't sure why Eames and Arthur have shown up on her doorstep at two in the morning, but she can admit (to them if they bother to ask, not that she thinks that they will, that sort of performative concern would be terribly out of character) that it's somehow not surprising.

The possibility of it happening may, in fact, have influenced her decision to access the tiniest part of her cut from The Job to get her own place while she finished up her thesis. Plus, she was tired of living like a 20-something-year-old again. It hadn't been fun the first time.

She waves them in, and is inordinately proud of herself that she remembers to start the coffee maker by hand rather than magicking it all together like she usually does. Potential dream heist complications were, as she'd already admitted to herself, (but not them, no, never them), not the only reason she'd wanted a place to herself, struggling grad-student appearances be damned.

She does surreptitiously combine two of her plates into one larger platter so she can get the mugs and spoons and milk from the fridge and a handful of her hoarded sugar packets over to the table in one trip though.

She turns back around, and almost drops the tray, saving it with a spark of distressingly bright purple magic.

Luckily they both have their eyes closed.

Because Arthur has his head on Eames' shoulder, and Eames is leaning right back.

"What the fuck." She manages to keep her voice down, but not swearing is way the hells too much effort, even if she mostly kept up a sweet-young-thing persona when she was being their Ariadne rather than her usual Ariadne.

Eames opens his eyes and offers her a smug grin, but it's a pale imitation of his usual one, and she feels a twinge of actual worry beneath her mostly pleased exasperation. "Did you never ask our darling Arthur his last name?"

Our.

Darling.

Last name.

She blinks at him, and puts the tray on the table. "That seemed like a thing that wasn't done, in your circles, if it wasn't offered."

Arthur snorts, and he waves a vaguely rude gesture at... well, presumably the whole damn world, though she assumes primarily at her and Eames, since they're here, but he doesn't bother to open his eyes. "Not like she asked you for your first name, either."

Eames nods gently, enough to make his point without dislodging Arthur's head. "You are the only one allowed to address me by my first name."

The very edge of Arthur's mouth tilts into the tiniest smile she's ever seen, and it is quite unexpectedly adorable.

Ariadne swallows the urge to actually say awww out loud, and finally remembers to sit down. She takes her own mug, and slides the tray the two inches it takes to get to the other side of her tiny table, right by Eames' elbow, since he's still the only one with functionally open eyeballs. "How long have you been married then, Misters Eames?"

Arthur huffs out a breath, but the tiny smile doesn't waver, and Eames' grin eases into something that looks a trifle more honest than he usually allows. "Misters Eames, I like that."

She notices neither of them even bothers to deflect her question.

Eames makes a cup, adds sugar, no milk, and slides it over next to Arthur's hand before starting on his own... milk, no sugar.

That's also oddly adorable, though she's not sure why.

She takes a sip of her own coffee (milk and sugar both, because why not), and watches the way they seem to slowly relax.

Silently.

"Well, if that's it for small-talk then," she puts her mug down with a slightly louder tap against the table than she'd intended. "What brings you to my door in the middle of the night?"

Arthur allows a full-blown frown to settle on his face, from forehead to eyebrows to mouth to jaw, and she feels another twinge of unease.

"Weird job went sideways," Eames says.

Arthur suddenly sits up straight, eyes open and entirely focused, and he leans forward just a little, staring right at her.

She almost sparks purple again, and wonders why she thought going back to school again was a good idea. She's too old for all-nighters and midnight meetings.

Catarina will die laughing if she ever hears Ariadne say that. She's not even a hundred.

"Well, thanks for being terrifying at two in the morning, it really adds to the ambiance." Ariadne glares back at him. "Very helpful. Nice thing to do to the lady who answered the door when she didn't have to."

Eames coughs, very unconvincingly covering his laughter.

Arthur is still frowning.

Ariadne rolls her eyes, and stands up. "Either tell me, or tell me it's none of my business, but glaring at me helps no one, and isn't nearly as scary as you think." She turns around to rinse her mug out. "You're welcome to the pull-out—"

"He reminded me of you." Arthur finally speaks up.

She turns around, leaning against the counter. "Who did?"

"Our mark."'

Fucking hells, it's like pulling teeth. "And how did the mark remind you of me, Mr. Arthur Eames?"

Eames shakes his head and leans back in his chair, far enough she's reasonably sure half the legs aren't touching the ground anymore. "Damn, I didn't know you could pull off the frosty condescension so well."

Ariadne shrugs. "I contain multitudes."

"I don't know!" Arthur ignores their by-play completely, his hands rising up in the air with exasperation. "There was something off about the whole job, someone else did the research, we were just helping out a friend of a friend." He pauses as if vaguely disappointed in himself that he'd taken a job without doing his due diligence.

She's a bit surprised, herself, but she supposes that everyone has an off day, now and then.

Even Arthur, somehow.

Even when he was on a job with Eames? She supposes he must have trusted that friend of a friend...

Who let them down.

No wonder they're here, with the one person who has no connections to any of the people who might have just screwed them over.

No wonder Arthur's so prickly, even as he's trying desperately to let his guard down.

Arthur sighs, pinches the bridge of his nose. "He moved through the dream like you did that first time, like he could see around all the corners even before he knew they were there, and he threw lightning at us to kill us and shock us awake, but I would have sworn right up until the moment he did it that he didn't even know he was in a dream."

Shit.

"Ariadne." Eames leans forward, his chair legs hitting the ground with a thump heavy enough she spares a thought to hope it doesn't wake up her downstairs neighbor. Not that it's her fault werewolves have super-sensitive hearing, especially at this time of the month. "What do you know."

She opens her mouth, and closes it again. "What's his name?"

"Anton Senka."

Ariadne closes her eyes, and feels her body sag. Double shit.

"You know him," Eames sounds surprised, and possibly disappointed, and possibly five other emotions he's putting on just to confuse her.

She realizes they're here on a hunch, Arthur's hunch, and Eames hadn't thought it'd play out, but he'd backed it anyways, because it was Arthur.

His Arthur.

She's going to get in so much trouble for this. "Was he already gone when you woke up, even though he'd been the one to kill you in the dream, even though he ought to have still been under because of the drugs?"

"Yes." Arthur leans forward, and he's all sharp edges again, chasing a lead, because he knows he's got her, got it, whatever it is. "You had to talk to Yusuf about your dosage levels, didn't you."

Warlocks have to suppress their magic to stop it from metabolizing the drugs faster than Mundanes do, she thinks, but all she does is nod. Warlocks also aren't supposed to tell Mundanes about the Shadow World.

"Let me make a phone call."

Arthur frowns again, but Eames puts a hand on his arm, and Arthur sits back in his chair.

Apparently she's still theirs too, for now, and Eames is making sure Arthur doesn't jump too soon.

Eames won't stop him forever though.

Eames is perfectly capable of deciding to jump all on his own, if she takes too long.

This is bigger than just her, if the dreamers are starting to find the edges of the Shadow World. Bigger than Anton's High Warlock in Madrid, bigger than her own here in Paris.

She calls Magnus.

"Ariadne Sovanna, I know damn well you're in almost the same timezone as I am, if this is not an emergency I will hex you into the next century."

"Anton Senka was targeted by dream thieves and only got away because he threw lightning at them in the dream."

There's a deeply eloquent pause on the other end of the phone.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," Ariadne says.

She hears Magnus sigh. "Well at least it wasn't a Shadowhunter, think what they would have gone through if someone's subconscious threw Shax demons at them."

Ariadne can't stop the snort, but she also shudders a little. "Now I'm going to have nightmares about Shax, thanks."

Shacks?, she sees Eames mouth, and he and Arthur share a concerned look.

"How much trouble will I get into if I explain things properly to my thieves?"

"None." Magnus answers promptly. "I'll tell Alec about it. In the morning, he somehow miraculously slept through this phone call."

She hears a murmur of a man's voice in the background, and doesn't even try to hide her amusement. "Are you sure about that?"

"Shut up." She's not entirely sure if he means her or his husband, but decides not to push her luck.

"Mm-hmm," she agrees.

She can practically hear Magnus roll his eyes. "Give them the overview, please. Alec and I will need to talk to them tomorrow to see if we can track down who's mixing the Shadow World and the Mundane."

"Never a dull moment?"

"Some days I like to imagine a dull moment. Just one. Just to see what it might be like." Magnus sighs, loud and dramatic. "Think you could build me a dream like that?"

"It'll cost you, I've got a reputation now."

Magnus laughs, bright and delighted. "I think I can afford you."

"I'll give you a good deal."

"No need for that, darling, I always pay people what they're worth. Good luck, I'll call you in a few hours, yes?"

"Thank you." Ariadne hangs up before he can deflect it like he usually does.

Arthur just looks at her, but Eames plasters on an innocently curious expression.

She waves her hand, and summons the whiskey from her cabinet to land on the table in a shower of purple sparks.

They both jerk back, Eames hard enough he knocks over his chair and has to stumble his way to his feet.

"So." She tilts her head, decides to just go for it. "Magic's real, and you tried to steal information from a warlock."

"Fuck?" Eames asks, which is pretty damn eloquent, considering.

Arthur reaches forward, one finger pushing on the bottle. He reaches in his pocket, and pulls out a red die, which he rolls between his fingers for one long moment, two, before he exhales, long and slow.

"Is that for us?" he asks, poking the bottle again and lifting his eyebrows at her.

She grins. "Thought some Irish might help the rest of the story go down."

Eames grunts, and fixes his chair, and sits back down. He picks up the whiskey, and carefully adds a very heavy splash to his own coffee, and a slightly lighter one to Arthur's. "Is this a long story, then?"

"Oh, there are a lot of stories." Ariadne sits back down. "Get comfortable."

#hmdiscord #shadowhunters #inception #ariadne inception #arthur/eames #malec #jilly writes #my sh fic #kind of #shadowhunter bingo

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heesgf · 5 years

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basketball player! byounggon

in honour of my baby’s birthday, here’s a cute + lighthearted basketball player! gon fic that i’ve been dreaming abt for eternity :’)) as per usual, the beginning is a little slow, but it’s worth ur patience, i promise💞😚

warnings: vvvv sweet (might give u cavities), BASKETBALL PLAYER GON BEING THE HOTTEST MF ALIVE, hyunsuk bff tomfoolery (what’s new lmao)

in which Lee Byounggon is basketball team captain, and you’re suddenly a sports fanatic.

Had Choi Hyunsuk seemed a little less desperate, perhaps you wouldn’t have found yourself in a crowded gymnasium, pressed against rampant bodies, and subject to the shrieks of devoted sport fanatics.

This morning, like any other, had started quite mundanely. You were perched against the headboard of your dorm’s single bed, doodling carelessly onto sheets of chemistry homework, while Hyunsuk mused a brightly coloured fedora in front of your full length mirror.

“Listen,” You shouted across the room, in between bites of your buttered croissant. “I invited you over to study, not to commit fashion atrocities in my dorm room.”

Hyunsuk, still balancing the horrendous garment over his head, shot you a pained expression, and rolled his eyes in distaste. He waves his hand vaguely in your direction and grimaces.

“Says the girl wearing a shirt that says ‘caffeine queen’.”

“Hey, you asshole, my mom got me this! I think it’s cute.” You cross your arms over your chest and narrow your eyes, while Hyunsuk shakes his head deliriously. He eyes you up and down once more, and then scrunches his nose.

“Sure, Jan.” He says slowly, and you contemplate throwing the pillow wedged behind your back toward his head. You opt against it, but the look on your face might be just as scary.

You stick your tongue out. “No one says memes out loud like that, you doofus!”

He spares you a lopsided shrug and giggles, then he breaks out into a smile and looks toward you once more.

“You’re coming to the game later, right?” He starts suddenly, and you bite your lip.

“I don’t know, Suk. I’m trying to stay focused on chem and stuff.”

Hyunsuk launches toward your spot on the bed, and reaches his hand out toward one of your stray sheets of paper, filled to the brim with miscellaneous stick figures and, in Hyunsuk’s opinion, the worst cartoon images of a corgi he’s ever seen.

“Yeah.” He baits, swinging the paper in front your wandering eyes. “You really look like you’re invested in learning.”

“Shut up!” You mumble out in a laugh, and then you roll your eyes. Hyunsuk still waits for an answer, and you purse your lips.

“I’ll think about it. Maybe, okay?”

Hyunsuk’s nod seems uncharacteristically tame, but there’s something about the devious look in his eyes that makes you think this conversation is far from over. When you come out of the bathroom a few minutes later, and his iron grips closes itself around your wrist, you find yourself yanked out of your room, into the hall, and most likely toward the gymnasium. In that moment, you think Choi Hyunsuk might be the worst person you’ve ever met, and the next couple hours, spent watching a college basketball game, were going to be completely unbearable.

***

Two minutes into sitting on painfully cold bleachers, having popcorn spilled over your lap, and your cheek elbowed by the rowdy couple next to you, you think you might be having a basketball induced aneurysm.

Hyunsuk is seated calmly next to you, and staring serenely into the crowd; every once in a while, he waves to someone you can’t recognize, most likely one of his teammates, and he looks back at you with a reassuring smile.

“Why are we here if you’re not even playing?” You groan, sliding your head onto his shoulder, and shutting your eyes tightly in discomfort.

“I told you, [Y/N].” He sighs into the crown of your head. “I have dance practice later. I gotta keep my calves limber. We’re here for the sportsmanship.”

You playfully roll your eyes and feign a barfing motion. Hyunsuk pushes your head away from his shoulder and pouts.

“I don’t even know what that means and I’m still disgusted.” You retort. “Besides... what do you know about sportsmanship? Literally every time we play Mario Kart I catch you cheating.”

Hyunsuk starts talking about how ‘you’re in great need of a chill pill’, and though you fight the urge to slap him silly, you instead find yourself staring intently at the court, eyes glazing over the lines of male athletes running drills across the gymnasium floor. As you watch, you notice the beads of sweat, the graceful strides, the cohesive movement, and as you watch, your eyes seem to close in on a particular someone—and suddenly, Hyunsuk’s words feel like they are worlds away.

The boy is standing in the centre of the court with his hands pressed against his knees, and his eyes trailing sporadically across the room.

His jersey, like all his teammates, is a blinding crimson, and against his honey sodden skin, a seemingly perfect contrast. His hair, slightly damp, is a disarrayed and glossy black, but something about the way it presses against his forehead, frays upward on the sides, sways lucidly when he runs, is wildly cinematic, and you think it just might consume you, like your favourite movie. On his back, there is the stark white outline of the number nine, and on the bottom, in between crinkled fabric, you think you can make out the name ‘Lee’. He’s waving his arms at a teammate, shouting something incoherent, and when the ball makes contact with his hands, his lips break out into the purest of smiles; it radiates an energy that is lively, almost impossible to miss, and completely intoxicating, even at your distance in the stands.

When that smile transforms into the shell of laughter, there’s something about the crowd’s cheering that suddenly feels rhythmic.

“Hey.” You whisper, poking into Hyunsuk’s rib cage. “Who’s that guy over there?”

Hyunsuk squints at your bewildered expression, and then looks onto the crowd, following the path of your eyes.

“Who? The guy in the hat? That’s coach Yang. God, I hate that guy. He’s always on my ass about making it to practice. And if you think my fashion is bad, Jesus Christ, you should see him at Sunday morning practice; crocs and socks all da-,”

“No, not him, you idiot.” You shake your head erratically. “T-the guy in the middle, look, he has the ball right now.”

“Oh.” He shrugs. “Well that’s Byounggon.”

“Byounggon.” You repeat. And then your bottom lips find it’s way between your teeth. Hyunsuk sits back against his seat, and focuses in on the game once more. And you, well you’re enamored by the rapid movements of a lanky boy with a smile that’s strikingly tender.

Byounggon.

You think maybe basketball isn’t so bad after all.

***

When Byounggon’s team wins the game, Hyunsuk tackles you in a tight side hug that feels almost violent. He is jumping up in his seat, screaming toward his teammates, and coincidentally, dragging your body with him. When he finally pulls away, and you can catch a string of fresh air, you ponder the appropriate time to start asking questions. You’re trailing down the bleacher steps when your voice finally breaks out, and your eyes are glued to the floor.

“So... when is your next game?” You ask nonchalantly.

Hyunsuk looks at you once in confusion. Then he makes a double take. And then a triple.

“Did you just say what I think you said?” Then he waves his hands in front of his eyes and shakes his head furiously. “Nah, I must be dreaming.”

“I’m serious!” You laugh. “I wanna watch your next game. I genuinely had fun!”

Hyunsuk still looks weary, but he nods his head halfheartedly. When you think he’s stopped looking at you, you turn your attention back to Byounggon, who is currently standing in a crowd of his teammates, and giving high fives all around. You’re distracted by the way his eyes crinkle when you hear Hyunsuk emit an amused ‘huh’, and when he points a sly finger in your direction, you know he’s put two and two together.

“I see what’s going on here.” He whispers excitedly. “You have a thing for Byounggon!”

“What? No I don’t! I don’t even know him!”

“Oh really?” He teases. “Then stop drooling over him like an animal.”

“Suk, y-you’re being ridiculous right now.”

“And would you look at that!” He whistles. The mischievous glint in his eyes makes you nauseous. “Looks like he’s coming over here, right now.”

“Hyunsuk, don’t you fucking dare. I’m serious.”

“Hey Byounggon!”

“Ohmygod.” You whine, smacking a palm to your forehead as your heart overcomes itself with panic. “I hate you. I genuinely hate you.”

Hyunsuk rolls his eyes, and then erupts in a laugh that makes the pits of your stomach twist.

“Trust me, [Y/N]. You’re gonna love me after this.”

You think that’s highly improbable.

***

Byounggon is more illusive when he stands in front of you.

Now, jogging toward Hyunsuk, tufts of raven coloured frame the cusp of his forehead, and the slight peak of his neck; his eyes narrow, but it’s far from hostile, and rather, a tinge of warm familiarity.

“Hey, you came!” Byounggon remarks, pulling Hyunsuk into a tight hug, and you realize his voice is gruffer than you would've thought.

“You guys were awesome, dude!” Hyunsuk gushes with a smile, and then he looks towards you, and gestures a hand in your direction. “This is my friend, [Y/N].”

Byounggon’s eyes shift to meet yours. He lifts his head in your direction, and waves his hand with a shy smile.

“Hey.”

“Hi.” You respond awkwardly, raising a hand to match his stance.

He raises a brow and grins. “Did you like the game?”

“Yeah! Yeah, you guys were all really good. I loved it!”

“Really?” He breathes out in a giggle. “Because when I was sitting on the bench I could’ve sworn I saw you sleeping?”

Hyunsuk breaks into a hysteric fit of laughs, and you shake your head rampantly, hoping the scarlet tinge of your cheeks doesn’t give you away. There was some truth to what he said; of course, when Byounggon wasn’t playing, the court seemed a little less compelling...

“Me?” You exasperate, face still flushed. “N-no, I would never!”

“Oh yeah, dude, she totally was. In the third quarter, she was knocked out! Almost drooled.”

You shoot Hyunsuk a glare, but he’s too caught up in his own laughter to notice; Byounggon throws his head back in a soft chuckle, then he looks back at you and shakes his head.

“Nah, I’m just messing with you.” He smooths over. “I’m glad you guys liked the game.”

His smile, like that smile on the court, is wide and contagious. And though you’re immersed in the plans of Hyunsuk’s murder, you can feel the corners of your lips drift upward, and the soft glimmer of a smile take over. When you hear someone shout Byounggon’s name across the gymnasium floor, you’re not sure if it’s the voice of one of his teammates, or the soft call of your heart.

Byounggon looks back at the sound and smiles apologetically. “That’s me. I’ll see you guys later?”

Before he leaves, Hyunsuk pulls Byounggon in for another hug, and you offer an awkward wave. You watch as he drifts away from you, and toward Yang Hyunsuk, who you know knew was his coach.

Damn. His style really was awful.

“See, now that wasn’t so bad, right?” Hyunsuk’s voice breaks you away from your train of thought, and on instinct, you smack him across the chest.

“Ouch! What the fuck was that for?” He groans, running his hand over the tender spot; you roll your eyes and trot forward, Hyunsuk trails behind you.

“That,” You shout. “—is for being the world’s WORST wing-man!”

“[Y/N]... You don’t mean that.”

You meant that.

***

A few days later, and you’re sitting in the campus library, buried in Calculus homework. If you were being completely honest, the past few days had consisted a little too much of ‘finding Lee Byounggon’s Instagram and Facebook’ and not enough ‘finding the derivative of f’(a)’. You may not have been prepared for your upcoming midterm, but you were, however, well informed on the kind of memes Lee Byounggon liked to use on Facebook circa 2011; knowing that Byounggon was an avid watcher of Naruto made him somewhat less intimidating in real life.

You’re still working through your Calculus workbook when the silhouette of a particular someone looms over the table, and when you look up, he’s flashing that smile that gives stars a run for their money; you think maybe his shadow made the room a little brighter.

“Hey! Whatcha’ doing?” His voice rings, and you remove a headphone from your ear.

Byounggon is wearing a sleek black crewneck and light grey sweatpants that hang low on his waist. His hair, unlike at the game, is neatly tussled, but it still has that vibrant sheen. He’s standing at the end of the table, and looking at you curiously; at his side, he holds a black drawstring bag.

“Calculus.” You groan, and his face twists to match yours. “What about you?”

He shrugs. “On my way to practice.”

“Through the library?”

He laughs. “It’s a shortcut.” Then he pauses, and continues. “By the way, if you like watching us play, you should come to our game this weekend.”

“Yeah, I might! I like watching you guys play, it’s kinda... surprising?”

Byounggon scrunches his eyebrows together and tilts his head inquisitively. His gaze, at the moment, is soft and gentle; and you wonder just how much that gaze would change if you told him basketball was anything but stimulating, and it was instead the smooth curve of his lips that had kept you on the edge of your seat. But of course, you knew you couldn’t tell him that.

“Oh yeah? How so?”

Your face twists into a sideways smirk, and you think you should have a little fun. “I guess I just thought basketball players had to be tall?”

“Wow, wow, wow. I’m tall.” He argues. “Very tall.”

Now, you lean back in your chair, and size him up and down; then you shake your head and grimace.

“Mmmm...I don’t know about that.”

Byounggon straightens his back, and at the same time, puffs out his chest. He gestures up and down, and stares at you wide eyed.

“I’m 180cm tall.” He reassures. “I measure myself everyday!”

You tilt your head. “A little obsessive, don’t you think?”

His face, while tight, breaks out into a wholesome laugh, and he bites his lower lip.

“You still don’t believe me, do you?”

“Aren’t you gonna be late for practice?”

For a moment, Byounggon sticks his tongue of his mouth and smiles. Then he bites the inside of cheek and shakes his head at you, wagging his finger disapprovingly.

“This isn’t over.” He ventures, flashing you that smile once more. And when he walks away from your table, looking over his shoulder every so often to make eye contact, you find yourself overwhelmed with fluttering emotion.

“I’m tall!” Byounggon shouts one last time into the silent library, and various heads, all buried in books, lift to stare at the both of you. You glare at him, but the smirk that tinges on your lips tells a different story.

You’re still staring at the library’s double door entry when Lee Byounggon leaves.

***

Somehow, it’s a Thursday evening and you find yourself sitting in the bleachers of Byounggon’s basketball practice, rather than going to the gym like you had promised yourself.

Byounggon is jogging across the gymnasium floor and running drills; he is clad in a large grey hoodie and fitted black track pants. At the end of practice, he talks with his coach, and his eyes twinge in confusion when he sees you in the stands. He grabs his bag, and while everyone trails out of the gym, he jogs toward you.

“Hey! Have you been here the whole time?” He breathes, running a hand through his dampened hair.

“No, no, I just got here a couple minutes ago. Hyunsuk kept asking me to watch him practice so... here I am!”

Byounggon bites his lips, and his eyes narrow, like he’s had a realization. His lips stretch into a smirk.

“But.” He ponders. “Hyunsuk wasn’t at practice today.”

Your throat grows tight. “Oh.”

His smile widens, and your face flushes a deep and transparent red.

“That is... so weird!” You exclaim dramatically, but Byounggon can hear the panic in your voice, and he’s giggling. You hope he can’t see the red of your cheeks underneath the gymnasium’s orange lighting, too.

“I-I should probably get going.”

You turn your body toward the gym’s exit, and as your footsteps get heavier and heavier, you feel Byounggon’s fingers clasp onto your shoulder.

“Wait, [Y/N]! I wanted to ask you... do you wanna maybe, uh, get some ice cream?”

“Yeah.” You beam. “Yeah, I’d like that a lot.”

***

With some persuasion, Byounggon leads you into the boy’s change room. He sits on one of the wooden benches, in front of the row of lockers, and he fiddles with the hem of his sweatshirt.

“Just give me a second, I’m gonna change out of this, and then we can get going.”

Then suddenly, without warning, he takes his sweatshirt off, and you, are left winded at the sight of a shirtless Lee Byounggon.

Before you can marvel at the way his muscles tightly outline his abdomen, you slap the palms of your hand over your eyes, and scream.

“Jesus, can you give me a warning before you take your shirt off like that?” You groan, eyes still shut tightly through the protection of your fingers. Byounggon, now shrugging a fresh black t-shirt over his shoulders, chuckles deeply into the empty locker room, and the heavenly sound bounces off the walls. You know he’s coming closer because you can hear the sound of his footsteps, and your warm cheeks seem to fire up again. He outstretches a hand onto the crown of your head and ruffles your hair.

“You’re cute.” He says affectionately, and you suddenly think your hands would be better suited if they covered your cheeks, and not your eyes.

***

“I am not letting you buy butter pecan that’s disgusting.”

“What’s wrong with butter pecan? It’s like... sweet and savory.”

“Ohmygod, I’m gonna barf.”

Byounggon sits back onto his chair and shoves another spoonful of butter pecan ice cream into his mouth, and you playfully gag in response. He’s laughing and rolling his eyes, but in the sparkling daylight, he still looks like something out of a spring catalogue. The sky’s vivid blue is complementary to the golden hue of his skin, and against the rosy pink of his lips, you think butter pecan might not be so bad.

The two of you are sitting on the patio of an ice cream shop just off of campus, and maybe it’s the vibrancy of the sun, or the sugar high, but the scenery seems to amplify every emotion you feel. The pots of summer flowers at the shop’s entryway makes your anticipation grow tenfold, but the winding music of passing shop vendors soothes your beating heart with every note.

“Wait, hold on sec.” Byounggon mumbles.

He leans forward into the patio table and his face, only centimeters from yours, makes your breath hitch in the back of your throat. His eyes are focused on something you can’t quite capture, and he outstretches a tentative hand to the side of your face. His fingers brush against the expanse of your jaw, and instinctively, you nuzzle into his touch. You think he might kiss you, because there are twinkling hearts where his eyes should be, and you feel your lips part in preparation. Byounggon’s fingers latch onto a single strand of your hair, and he twiddles with the bottom in between the pads of this thumb and index finger.

“You had ice cream in your hair.” He explains quickly, and then he moves back to his original position, and you hope you don’t look too disappointed.

“O-Oh.” You laugh. “Thanks.”

“So are you gonna come to the game tomorrow?”

“I think so.”

“I hope you do.”

The smoothness in Byounggon’s reply makes chills run up and down your spine, and your eyes widen ever so slightly. He notices the rashness of his words and before you can respond, the words rush out of his mouth.

“B-because Hyunsuk!” He interjects. “I uhhh... know he’d be really bummed if you didn’t come.”

Maybe it’s the vibrancy of the sun, or the sugar high, but you suddenly feel a rush of confidence spring through your body. Lee Byounggon may have been illusive, but he was always so candid, too; you could hear it in the airy quality of his laugh, like he’s gasping for oxygen, like he’s searching for answers, like he’s uncertain; uncertain about you.

You grin at him, and he licks his lips expectantly.

“Nice save, Gon.”

He looks down at his fingers.

“I’ll be there,” You bite your lip. “For sure.”

He looks up again.

As you walk away from Byounggon with lips perched in a shameless smile, the giddy feeling in the pits of your stomach just might consume you. He’s still staring when you look over your shoulder, and if you listen close enough, you think you can hear him whispering to himself in complete elation;

Gon.

***

( Later that evening, you are home in your dorm and deconstructing the events that occurred only minutes prior, and your heart palpitates in your chest. It isn’t until you change into your pajamas when you notice it; a crumpled frock of red fabric shoved into your backpack.

Your mind races when you guess what it might be, but the feelings don’t set in until you unfold the red fabric, and the stark white outline of the number nine greets you with a blinding sheen. Blinding like those eyes, Ike that smile.

His jersey.

You don’t know when he’d put it there, or how, but those questions seem irrelevant when you push the material against your nose and breathe his soft scent; like spearmint and timber. You throw yourself against your bed and grin wholeheartedly.

That night you dream of Byounggon.

And now you think he might be dreaming of you, too. )

***

You decide to wear Byounggon’s jersey underneath a sweatshirt because it all feels a little too cliche. Well, that, and because you don’t think you’ll be able to take Hyunsuk’s incessant teasing when your heart is beating out of your chest.

The gymnasium, like usual, is filled to the brim with amped-up sports fanatics, and if you squint your eyes, you think you can make out the face of Coach Yang standing across the court. (Although, you really wish you hadn’t; his sense of fashion seemingly degrades by the day.) This time, Hyunsuk is warming up with the rest of his teammates, with Byounggon, and you are sitting alone on the bleachers with a tight smile.

You watch as Byounggon looks into the crowd, once, twice over, and when he finally makes contact with you, you watch as his eyebrows push together in subtle concentration. He beams a sideways grin, but it’s not quite as full as you’re used to. That’s when you push down the collar of your sweatshirt, reveal the patch of scarlet fabric beneath, and you think Lee Byounggon might look happier than he would have if he won this game.

Moments later, Hyunsuk pushes himself next to Byounggon, catches your eye, and begins to wave erratically. Then he takes in your expression, and then Byounggon’s, and he nods slyly at you, wiggling his eyebrows. He’s worlds away, and yet, you give in, laughing with full vigor.

***

You know Byounggon’s team has won the game when Hyunsuk removes his jersey off his body and flings it into the air, and then he screams like a madman across the court (somehow, over the crowds’ cheering). Byounggon, on the other hand, hugs his teammates, and once the chaos settles, he turns to look at you.

You are standing in the bleachers, your sweatshirt now long gone, and the bright red of his jersey, on you, gives him butterflies. Since his victory, you’ve been jumping in the stands with the rowdy onlookers beside you, and for the first time ever, you think you might’ve actually enjoyed a basketball game. When Byounggon waves a hand at you, you take it as a sign, and run down countless steps, all the way to court-side where he stands waiting eagerly.

“Congratulations!” You shout, and he’s surprised when you fling yourself into his outstretched arms. His fingers intertwine in your hair, and he laughs onto the top of your head, placing a small kiss at it’s crown.

“Thank you.” He mumbles into your hair; a gesture with such tenderness, you feel yourself overridden with energy.

Byounggon pulls away after a few moments, and his hands are still clasped tightly at the small of your back, yours around his neck. He doesn’t let go. Now, you’re staring intently into his eyes, remarking the scarlet hue of his cheeks—from the game, or this moment, you’re not sure—Byounggon doesn’t close the space between your lips because he’s too busy immersing himself in the gentle sparkle of your eyes; so you take it upon yourself, and kiss him amorously.

His lips, thought slightly chapped, are fervent against yours, and part with a tenacity you’ve never quite encountered. You sigh into his mouth, and he softens his lips, brushing gently over yours; it’s chaste and sweet. You pull away when you feel your body grow weak, and you realize when you’re kissing Byounggon, breathing feels like a second priority.

He is gasping into the hot air of the gymnasium, and you are biting your lips, hands still loosely clasped around his neck. His hands slide from the base of your jaw and toward your cheek, pinching softly.

“I hope that was okay.” You whisper. He moves his lips to your ear.

“It was perfect.”

Before you can sigh in relief, hug him tighter, kiss him more, you can see Hyunsuk approaching through the corner of your eyes. He runs toward you with his lips outstretched into a wide grin, and as he comes closer, he opens his arms and envelops the two of you in a group hug.

“I take credit for every part of this.” Hyunsuk states with glee, and you smack him upside the head.

He flicks you against the forehead. “I’m way too happy to complain about your abuse right now.”

And though the three of you erupt in boisterous laughter, and you shake your head fiercely into their embrace, you think there might be a layer of truth to Hyunsuk’s words. Had Choi Hyunsuk seemed a little less desperate, perhaps you wouldn’t have found yourself at that first game, pressed against rampant bodies, and subject to the boy who you now swore had your heart.

You may not have been the sports fanatic you envisioned, and now, after all this time, maybe you still weren’t; but you did like Lee Byounggon. And now, every time you count to ten, the number nine feels a little bit warmer.

***

a/n: if u made it this far, thank u so much for reading!! im sorry this is mostly plot driven and not necessarily beautiful writing, but i just wanted to post smth cute for gon’s bday!! as always, feedback is appreciated, and ilu all!!! 😚😚💞

#byounggon #ygtb #ygtb scenario #treasure 13 #yg treasure box #lee byounggon #kinda iffy abt posting this bc it's kinda mediocre BUT it's for his birthday so :////

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2-for-a-penny · 6 years

Text

A Name or an Apartment Number- Chapter 1

This is my first fic so please be gentle with the criticism. I’m just a smol child that wants to write about her gay children.

Includes: JackxDavey, Newsbians, SpotxRacer, ElmerxAlbert, SpecsxRomeo, and some other assorted pairs

Rated: M for the fact that I might attempt to write some “steamy” stuff. It will not be good though.

Archive

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CHAPTER 1

A sudden crash caused Jack to whip his head to the source of the sound. His eyes focused on a group of kids staring at the ground, with one lone child rushing to clean up the spill. Jack casually walked over to the child and the spill. The kid was frantically grabbing paper towels, attempting to wipe up the mess. Jack bent down to eye level of the panicking kid.

“Matthew.” Jack said soothingly. “Matthew, it’s okay buddy. Spills happen. No need to panic little guy.” Jack smiled reassuringly to him.

“Let me help you.” He gently took the paper towel roll, and began to wipe up the paint that had splattered across the tile floor. He swiftly cleaned up the mess and helped the child back to his seat. As he did, the bell rang for the group to leave the class.

“See you next week guys!” Jack called to them. He smiled as he walked around the tables, collecting the materials they had used that day. Jack hummed quietly to himself, as he pursued his task.

Working with kids was something Jack always knew he wanted to do. Being around little kids all the time at Medda’s theater, made him feel like a mentor. It just felt right to be with them, teaching them. After he discovered his aptitude for art, he was convinced he was going to be an art teacher. Here he was now, 26 and living his dream, teaching elementary school kids to love art. He was content with his life, and was scanning the artwork they had created as he heard a cough by the door.

“Jack,” He turned to see Sarah Jacobs, his principal, in the doorway. Sarah was sweet, she was also quite scary when she wanted to be, which was great considering she was a principal. Sarah was also dating his ex girlfriend, Katherine. They had been together senior year of high school, but the flame quickly died out as they realized things about themselves. First, that all they ever did when they were together, was fight. And second, that both of them were queer as hell. This led to the swift ending of their relationship, but allowed a strong friendship to form between the two.

“What’s up Sarah?” He grinned as he leaned against the small art table, getting paint on his arm in the process.

“It’s Ms. Jacob in school Jack.” She stated sternly, but with a smile playing on her lips. “Anyways,” she began. “I need a favor from you.” She strolled into the room, and sat down at his desk with a ‘plop’.

“Anything for a lovely girl like yourself” Jack replied. She shot him an angry look, but let out a small laugh.

“My brother,” She casually stated as she leaned back in his chair, to prop her heeled feet up on a nearby stool. “He’s going to start teaching here.” Jack cocked his head as his brows furrowed in confusion.

“And this has what to do with me?” Jack questioned her.

“Patience child.” Sarah said looking playfully offended. “My brother is going to start teaching here next week, and I want you to help him out a bit. You know?” She looked at Jack hopefully. He rolled his eyes at her puppy dog begging and crossed his arms.

“Come on Sarah.” He replied with a roll of his eyes. “A grown man doesn’t need me to “help him out” around an elementary school. It’s pretty easy to figure out.”

Sarah sighed dramatically as she kicked her feet off the stool so she could lean forward on the small wooden desk.

“You really have to make everything as hard as possible don’t you Kelly.” She sighed again and explained further. “My brother is quite shy. I don’t expect him to make friends with any other teachers any time soon. And contrary to popular belief, you are actually decently easy to talk to, and get along with. I think that if you became friends, it would make his transition easier. So can you stop being a pompous ass for long enough to be nice to him?” She gave him a stern stare and quirked one eyebrow up, daring him to not agree to her wishes.

“Fine!” He groaned as he wiped his face with his palms. “I’ll help your stupid brother, just get out of my classroom.”

“I knew you’d see it my way!” She smiled cheerfully as she rose from the desk, and went to pat him on the shoulder.

“Really, Jack, thank you. He’s really going to appreciate this.” She headed for the doorway, then turned back to Jack before she left. “I’ll introduce you guys on Monday, have a good weekend.” She turned away but called over her shoulder, “By the way, you have paint all over your shirt.” With that she was gone.

Jack looked down to his shirt, that was now splattered with a range of colors due to the paint on his arm.“Damn it.” He muttered under his breath, as he wiped the remaining paint from his arm. His shirt was now stained. It was one of his favorites too, a simple white Henley. Oh well, another ruined shirt. Tis’ the life of an artist.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jack pulled open the door to his apartment building. He was thinking over what Sarah had said. He really didn’t want to try and be buddy buddy with her brother. He didn’t really have the time, nor did he want to put in the effort. He was friendly with his coworkers, but they weren’t exactly his type of people. They were all too formal with each other, and made the most mundane jokes. Jack would much rather spend time with his real friends. The crazy guys that he has spent his whole life with.

His mind was in his thoughts as he approached the wall of mailboxes in the lobby of his apartment building. He absent mindedly put the key in the lock of his box and opened it to grab the mail. He flipped through the different letters, mostly junk mail. He saw a few bills, utilities, phone, the usual. He cursed under his breath and began to open one until he heard a small laugh come from beside him.

He looked up from the mail and caught the eyes of another man standing a few boxes away. He was smiling at Jack and gesturing to the mail in his hand.

“Bills? Or threatening letters from your mother about how you are acting in the big city? Or is it maybe a death threat? Who did you manage to piss off? The mob? Does the mob send threats by snail mail anymore?” The man spouted out his theories with a bright smile and a laugh. But it wasn’t just his smile that Jack noticed. The man was tall and well built. He wasn’t a bodybuilder, but you could tell he worked out and took care of his body. His muscular arms were propped up against the wall, causing his shirt to stretch and emphasize his biceps. His dark hair fell slightly into his eyes, and framed is sharp, angular face. His bright smile was paired with a set of twinkling green eyes. Jack felt as if he could get lost in them for hours.

Jack was jolted from his thoughts at the sound of the man speaking. “So which is it then? Do I need to be watching the door in case any mobsters try to walk in here with a baseball bat?” He questioned Jack.

Jack finally gathered his thoughts enough to respond to the question he was being asked. “Oh, haha, no.” He rubbed his neck awkwardly and shifted his weight. “Just some bills, you know. The usual.” He smiled, tried to keep from looking at the man. Shuffling the mail in his hands, messing with his key. He glanced back up to meet his eyes, the other man was just watching with a soft smile.

“Well,” The man pushed himself off of the mailboxes and put the mail in his hand into a neat stack. “I gotta go, stuff to do” He began to walk away as Jack got the sense to speak.

“Wait.” Jack turned to the man as he was preparing to walk out the door. “I’ve never seen you before. Did you just move in or something?” Getting over his initial shock, he finally felt like he had control of himself as he flashed the man his signature smirk, and crossed his arms over his chest casually. “Because I know I would remember someone like you.”

The man smiled and color began to creep onto his cheeks. “Moved in yesterday. I’m new to the area.” He pushed the door open and moved to walk out.

“Maybe I could show you around sometime?” Jack said almost more like a statement than a question.

“Maybe you can. See you around.” The man walked out the door and let it shut behind him. Jack smiled to himself and began to walk to the elevator before he realized. He never got the man’s name or which apartment he was in! He wasn’t paying enough attention to see which box he got his mail from, so that was a lost cause. A great opportunity missed by a name, or an apartment number.

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artificialqueens · 6 years

Text

Here I Go Again! (Group Fic) - Epilogue (Finale!) - pureCAMP

A/N - at long last she is done and she is here and she is the dancing queen young and sweet only seventeen

In all honesty, Trixie wasn’t sure she was going to go on a honeymoon at first. As she planned the wedding with her mom, the only thing on her mind was that her mom would struggle to cope. Trixie was in no position to be gallivanting off to the four corners of the world, seeing and exploring because of her frivolous dreams. She was old enough to know that money was tight, the workload was excessive and Sharon would struggle to complete it all without Trixie’s help.

Of course, she could never say it out loud. She’d planned a honeymoon just so that her mom didn’t question her. Sharon would be mortified if she knew that Trixie had actually planned to stay at home after the wedding, and continue her work. She’d insist that Trixie went out to see the world, found a home elsewhere - but Trixie just knew she couldn’t.

It wasn’t fair.

But things changed on the day of the wedding. With Trixie unmarried, and Sharon now married, she didn’t see why she couldn’t travel the world. Her mom had someone to care for her, even if she swore up and down that she didn’t need to be taken care of. It was no secret that she worked too much, and he could make her take a break. Additionally, they’d want some privacy for a honeymoon of their own - which was the least that Trixie could do for them.

So, with bright smiles and teary eyes, Trixie and Brian sailed away from the island she’d grown up on, heading for the musty airport that would take them all over the world.

They saw America, from California to Texas to Florida to New York. They made their way through South America, visiting the beaches and cities in Brazil and Argentina and Peru and Mexico. They toured Europe, starting in Scotland and making their way round to Ireland, back to Wales and then to England, to France and Spain and Portugal and Germany, moving further and further across the map. Trixie could hardly name all the places they’d been to, the things they’d seen. To her, it was a jumble of new places and new sights and new people and new experiences.

Brian somehow retained everything, which Trixie loved. He rattled off random facts about the cities they had walked through, hand in hand whether it was raining or sunny. He’d even gone to the extent of buying a huge world map, marking the places they’d been with little hearts. To anyone who asked, they were on an unofficial honeymoon. Everything was perfect.

“I miss my mom. Does that make me childish?” Trixie asked one night. She was already in the hotel bed, tucked up to her chin under the thick sheets, waiting for Brian to finish brushing his teeth. When he came in, flashing a pure-white smile, he shook his head.

“No way. I miss your mom too.” He replied, deadly serious. “You’ve written to her, though. At least you know she’s not worrying too much about you.”

Trixie sighed. “Yeah. You’re right. I just wish she could write back, you know? But it takes so long for my letters to arrive from wherever the hell we are when I write them, and then by the time she responds we could be anywhere else! I want to know how she’s doing.”

“Well, judging by your nosy snooping, I’m sure she’s doing just fine with her new beau.”

After Brian had been told the full story - the diary, the three guys, Sharon’s story - he seemed quite amused by the whole situations. Letting him read the diary had definitely been a mistake, though. He thought it was absolutely hilarious, and whilst reading about your mom’s sexual escapades in hopes of finding your dad is one thing, reading it with your boyfriend whilst he laughs is another thing entirely.

“Gross, Brian. You promised not to talk about my mom like that!” Trixie told him off, shoving him as he climbed into bed. Grinning, he wrapped his arms around her tightly, clinging like koala as she struggled.

“I promise not to promise things, such as myself to you and talking about your mom.” Brian said. “Hey, we’re not out here much longer. This is our last week, then you get to see her again.”

For a while, there was a peaceful silence. Trixie had almost fallen asleep until Brian interrupted it.

“Do you think Sharon married Justin because she loves him, or because he’s your dad?”

Trixie rolled over. “Both. We don’t know for sure, but we both… we both think it’s him. And it’s clear how much she loved him then and loves him still.”

Things felt calm. Their previous drama and stress was over. Trixie had seen things she’d never dreamt of seeing in her lifetime, that were worlds apart from the sandy beaches and simple life of her home. Though she missed it dearly, things felt good. As she fell asleep, in the last week of her honeymoon, she dreamt of a happy family, reunited on the Greek shores.

On their flight home, however, Trixie didn’t fall asleep to happy dreams as she had most nights on their trip. A childish excitement had stirred up ever since they’d boarded the plane, with the knowledge that soon enough, she’d be home again. Having grown up alone, Sharon was a combination of a mom, a sister and a best friend, rolled into one. Trixie missed her beyond belief.

With Brian fast asleep on her shoulder, Trixie had alternated between reading her book - a strangely exciting story detailing the love, loss and drama of a new political figure - and making small talk to the old lady sat beside her.

They’d chatted mundanely for a few hours, partially because Trixie felt bad for her. She was clearly travelling alone, with a sad look on her face. At a guess, Trixie would put her at mid-seventies. Her grey hair was swept into an elegant, but slightly dated bun, and was mostly grey. Despite her morose expression, she had a kind face and spoke in a friendly manner, introducing herself as Joan.

“So, what’s bringing you to Greece?” She asked.

Trixie glanced over at Brian, peacefully sleeping, and smiled to herself. “Coming home from a vacation. It’s a pretty long story, but it was kind of a not-honeymoon. What about you?”

Joan sighed quietly. “Returning home, too.”

“Oh, whereabouts in Greece do you live? The mainland?”

“Not… quite.” She said uneasily. “I don’t live there, not anymore. I used to, a long time ago, but unfortunately this time, I’m being brought back by a tragedy, if you will.”

Trixie furrowed her brow. “I’m so sorry, I hope you’re okay.”

For a moment, Joan was silent, frowning to herself. Something about the look on her face was incredibly familiar, but Trixie had no idea why. As far as she knew, she had never met this woman in her life until now. Yet somehow, there was a lingering sense of familiarity.

“I’ll tell you this: you’re young, and you can learn from my mistakes.” Joan turned, staring straight at Trixie. “Teach yourself to forgive. Someone I loved dearly made a mistake once, and I didn’t forgive them. My… My husband’s recent passing has made me realize that life is short and can easily be wasted. I have a fear now that it may be too late to forgive this person, or that quite rightly they won’t forgive me. Learn it young, and don’t make my mistake.”

Trixie nodded thoughtfully. She wanted to further comfort the old woman, but she wasn’t sure what she could say to make any of it better. She couldn’t even begin to imagine how lonely it must’ve felt. Her whole life, even if it wasn’t much, she’d always had her mom. Family was the one thing that Trixie knew she’d always have. Joan had nothing.

“I don’t see why they won’t forgive you.” Trixie said eventually. “Time is supposed to heal all wounds, isn’t it?”

Joan smiled sadly. “So they say. But some mistakes don’t deserve to be forgiven. You surely wouldn’t forgive your mother for kicking you out.”

Trixie frowned. “She wouldn’t do that to me.”

“Then she’s a good mother. I wasn’t.”

“H-Her mother kicked her out.” Trixie found herself saying. “She was pregnant really young, and she was kicked out as soon as she found out about me. She never let it stop her, if anything she grew from it.”

Joan listened intently. “Would she forgive, do you think?”

Trixie shrugged. “She’s… very headstrong. I was never really allowed to ask questions about Nana. She always said we didn’t need her because we had each other.”

“Gosh, she sounds just like my daughter.” Joan smiled, a hint of bittersweet sorrow tainting the happy expression. “She was a firecracker, she did what she pleased. Nowadays it’s celebrated, but we all thought it was shameful behaviour back then.”

Somewhat detective-like in manner, Trixie noted that Joan had said ‘daughter’, rather than ‘someone’. She wasn’t sure why, but the genuineness of the older woman beside her made her want to help unravel the story. She seemed kind and deeply regretful, and the idea of her being able to reconcile with her daughter made Trixie feel all warm inside. Perhaps one day, Sharon would be able to meet with her mom and their broken relationship could also be fixed.

But maybe Trixie was thinking ahead a little too much. Next to her, Brian snored quietly, jolting her back into real life.

“Either way, you have to try.” Trixie affirmed. “There’s no way you can receive forgiveness without asking for it. No matter how scary, you have to try.”

Joan nodded. “You’re very wise for such a young woman. I’m impressed, dear.”

Trixie grinned. “That’s all down to my mom. She’s the best woman I’ll ever know, guaranteed.”

She showed Joan the photograph on the lockscreen of her phone - Sharon and Trixie smiling together on the hotel courtyard, just after Sharon had ended up getting married to Justin. Standing side-by-side, their identical smiles made them look almost like twins.

Upon seeing the photo, Joan faltered for a moment, as if there was a flicker of recognition in her eyes. Within moments it had faded, and the older woman seemed to shake herself, smiling at the image. Trixie brushed off the sudden change in her expression.

“She’s very beautiful, like you. How old are you, dearest?”

Trixie blushed. “I’m twenty.”

Once again, Joan’s face fell for a moment before she regained her composure. The change was ever so slight that Trixie wasn’t sure she’d actually seen it or not.

“This was what was supposed to be my wedding. Me and Brian here were engaged, but we called it off because it felt too soon. My mom ended up getting married instead, but that’s an even longer story. Let’s just say, I threw her life into chaos for a few days and she managed to forgive me.”

Joan chuckled. “I see. Well, Trixie, it’s been lovely talking to you. I should probably rest now, but I’ve enjoyed your company a lot. Thank you.”

“It’s no trouble. Goodnight,” Trixie finished amiably, settling back into her novel. Every page took her a little bit closer to home, and that was all she needed.

—

“TONY! TONY!” Trixie yelled, waving as hard as she could from the docks. “TONY!”

She was running, one hand wheeling her suitcase behind her as Brian lugged the rest, burdened with the weight of it all. As soon as they’d touched down back in Greece, with the sun just an hour away from rising, she’d purchased a garland of fresh flowers from a local street vendor on the mainland and was wearing them around her neck. They bounced as she ran, tangling over her white vest.

Tony, one of the sailors who took people back and forth from the mainland to the island, was a few feet out into the small stretch of sea, fishing by himself. Usually, he would only take passengers on Tuesdays, Fridays and Sundays, but Trixie knew he’d make an exception for her. Much like many islanders, though he wasn’t one himself, he had watched Trixie grow up.

“EH? ÀNGELOS? IS THAT YOU?”

The nickname of ‘angel’ had arisen simply from her blonde hair, a trait which both Sharon and Trixie had. It was a little more uncommon on the island, of traditionally olive-skinned and dark-haired residents, so many referred to her in such a way. Brian, however, still grumbled that he needed to stop making a move on his almost-wife.

“You’re so stupid.” Trixie giggled, kissing his nose. “TONY? CAN YOU TAKE US HOME?”

Tony nodded, and in no time he had sailed back from his perch, handing his fish to one of the market vendors with a shrug. He and Brian carried their bags onto the little boat, and soon enough they were sailing in the early morning sun, ready to go home.

The warm sunshine and cool sea-spray on Trixie’s skin felt so nice. Of course, some of the places they’d been had the same kind of weather, but nowhere felt as right and as natural as her home did. Part of her was convinced that, at this point, she could memorise the exact pattern of the waves beneath her.

“I’m so excited. I feel like it’s been forever since we saw my mom.” Trixie breathed, spreading her arms wide to take in as much as she could.

“Almost four months.” Brian agreed. “Three and half, I think. Have you ever been away from her that long?”

Trixie shook her head. “Nope. I think a week might be the longest.”

“Christ.”

“I never needed to!” Trixie defended herself, laughing. “Anyway, it was probably for the best this time. She deserves some time to relax and celebrate with her new husband.”

Brian wrapped his arms around her waist. “Yeah, you’re right. Justin’s a cool guy, I need to hang out with him. You and Sharon can have a girly catch up, and we’ll have some bro time.”

“Sick of me already?” Trixie teased, mock-offended. “I’m kidding. But no offence to either of you, I don’t think you’ll be having bro time. You’re not exactly the bro type.”

Brian hummed. “I guess not. Man to man time, then.”

“If that’s what you wanna call it. Me and mom just call it, you know, friendship.” Trixie shrugged.

“That works too.” Brian said, and then burst out laughing. “Hey, look, land ahoy.”

Before Trixie could react to Brian’s statement, or make a dumb pirate joke as she normally would, she spotted the edges of the island beginning to form in the horizon. There it was, her home; tall and hilly and with white buildings and white sand and beautiful memories permeating the entire place. Her heart warmed at the mere sight of it.

“I’m home!” She trilled, squeezing Brian’s hand. “Oh my god, I’ve missed it so much. I’m home!”

Trixie squealed and bounced like a little girl for the entire rest of the journey, when Tony assisted their bags off and waved them goodbye. Within seconds, she’d discarded her shoes and was running in the sand, revelling in the knowledge that she was actually, really home.

“Trix? Bags?” Brian tried.

Same as before, Trixie wheeled her one suitcase up the steps, as Brian struggled with the rest of it. It was still early in the morning, so the two of them had time to creep into their new home and dump the luggage there. Sharon had fixed up one of the old parts of the hotel that was no longer used - a similar area to where she had raised Trixie - for the two lovers, as a wedding gift. They had their own little place, with two storeys and a balcony onto the sea, but they were never more than ten minutes from Sharon, should they need her help. Trixie knew they definitely would in the coming years.

“I always thought pink was the prettiest colour,” Trixie remarked, looking around at the teal that made up the entirety of their interior. “But this is seriously beautiful. I love it.”

She flopped backwards onto the bed, breathing deeply. “Mm, fresh sheets… and they smell of sandalwood! My mom is amazing.”

Brian laughed, throwing some clothes at Trixie so they could change out of their airport garb into something more topical. As the sun properly rose, filling the room with light, Trixie watched the sea ebbing and flowing. A sense of peace washed over her, like the tide erasing the stress of a day’s footprints along the beach. She was a clean slate.

After freshening up a little, Brian joined her on the balcony. Their view was amazing - they could see the whole of the beach, and a little of the courtyard where hotel guests ate and hung around during the day. As usual, the washing lines were all still strung up, with colourful sheets flapping around in the breeze.

“Sheets are still up. Your mom must be slacking.” Brian nudged her and grinned. “She’s usually up by now, isn’t she?”

Trixie shoved him, even though he was right. “Hey! She’s just gotten married, she deserves a vacation! Her idea of a vacation probably is starting work at six thirty instead of five, anyway.”

Not long after she spoke, Trixie spotted two figures walking into the courtyard. Though they had their backs to her, she knew exactly who they were instantly.

“There, see! Mom and Justin.”

Brian nodded appraisingly. “Guess you’re right. Speak of the devil and she shall appear. In a skirt, no less.”

For most people, the observation would’ve been a little pointless, but it made sense to Trixie. Sharon never wore the kind of long, flowing skirts that she was wearing today, preferring to wear practical clothing that she could work in. Her usual attire was denim dungarees, patched up at the knees where the material had worn thin from her constant toiling. It was beyond unusual to see her in a skirt, but Trixie thought nothing of it for the time being.

“Come on, come on, we have to go down and say hi! I can’t remember what they look like anymore.” She exaggerated, giggling. Her eyes lingered for a couple of seconds on the pair, tearing down the coloured sheets into baskets and laughing together, before she turned away.

“Hurry, Brian!”

They made their way down towards the courtyard as fast as they could, now unencumbered with bags and suitcases. A childish thrill was still holding Trixie’s chest, causing her heart to hammer and thump with sheer excitement. Even though she’d kept on about it, she truly hadn’t realised the extent of how much she’d missed home.

The sound of their footsteps skidding onto the stones caused both Sharon and Justin to turn in unison. Upon seeing her mom’s face, Trixie gasped in delight.

“Trixie! Oh, my baby girl!”

The two all but ran towards one another, hugging as tightly as they possibly could. Trixie couldn’t see, hear or smell anything other than her mom, the most amazing woman she’d ever known. Everything about her was home, especially the tight-squeeze of her full body hug. Trixie blinked back tears, just about managing to subdue them as they talked without breaking apart.

“Oh, my girl. I’ve missed you so much on all your adventures. You need to tell me everything,” Sharon rushed out, all of her words spoken into Trixie’s neck.

Trixie responded by squeezing even tighter. “Of course, of course. Oh, mom, it’s so amazing to see you again. I’ve missed you every single day.”

“You’ve been gone so long, my gorgeous girl. So many things I want to talk to you about.”

At last, Trixie pulled away from the hug, gazing lovingly at her mom’s face. As she had expected, she looked happier - younger, even, like she’d taken a dip in the fountain of youth. Her blue eyes were sparkling, and a pink flower was tucked into her hair, presumably by Justin.

However, her eyes didn’t stay searching Sharon’s face for long. They soon wandered down, noting the definite curve of her stomach that hadn’t been there before. As both Trixie and Brian stared at it, wide-eyed, Justin wrapped an arm around Sharon’s waist and tenderly kissed her temple.

“Welcome home, Trixie.” Sharon said, her voice impossibly soft.

Trixie’s mind was reeling. “Mom, you’re…”

“You’re not upset, are you?” Justin’s tone was gentle.

It took Trixie a moment to realize that they were nervous about her reaction. Sharon was chewing her lip, uncharacteristically insecure, and Justin was rubbing her back. He seemed to be hiding it better, though there was a hint of doubt in his usually-twinkling eyes.

“Upset?” Trixie asked incredulously. “How could… How could I be upset? You’re having a baby! You’re really pregnant!”

At that, Sharon’s face split into a grin, a mixture of relief and tearfulness all in one. Both Trixie and Brian rushed forwards to congratulate the pair. It was possibly the most unexpected news they could’ve heard, but Trixie was positively ecstatic about it. Images of a tiny baby had already started flitting into her mind. Would it be a boy or a girl? Would they have Sharon’s eyes, or Justin’s hair? For the second time that day, Trixie was sure she could feel her heart swelling with love.

“How long have you known about this?” Brian asked. Trixie was overjoyed to see the excited smile on his face, mirroring her own emotions.

Justin beamed. “We went to the twelve-week scan on Monday, so nearly thirteen weeks. It’s already been such an amazing ride.”

“You’ve seen nothing yet, babe.” Sharon laughed. “It’s not all fun and games and cold jelly. Well, not for me anyway.”

Justin shook his head. “Gross or ugly or whatever will happen, I’m here every step of the way. That’s the least you deserve.”

Brian frowned. “Correct me if my maths is wrong, however I had an incredibly comprehensive mathematical education back in Mother Russia so I doubt this frivolous linguistic formality very much, but twelve weeks is three months, yes?”

Sharon nodded. “Yes, I’m three months pregnant. Hence the slightly more forgiving loose skirt.”

“So this happened pretty much straight after the wedding? Justin, you sly dog.”

As they cracked up, Trixie protested. “Hey! Don’t call my dad a sly dog!”

She wasn’t sure why ‘dad’ had came out, nor why it sounded so natural, but it made her stop and smile briefly, her protest suddenly forgotten. Whether the genetics agreed or not, this was her dad, stood with her mom, and Trixie was going to have a little sibling.

From then on, they eased back into a somewhat altered version of their usual routine. Justin, it seemed, had insisted on taking on the physical work, so that Sharon didn’t have to. She still pottered around like mad, doing laundry and sweeping and cleaning and cooking for their few guests. Trixie had noticed a proper reception was now set up, with one singular computer, antennae and wifi-box courtesy of Willam, which meant that a few more people were beginning to hear about the place. There was currently a total of twelve - two groups of young vacationers that had heard about the place from the new-fangled website. It sounded small, but it was their most in years.

Each morning, after Sharon had taken down the dried laundry, folded it away and cooked breakfast for the guests, Trixie and Sharon would head down to the beach, to walk, relax and catch up in the sunshine. By lunch, Justin and Brian would’ve finished most physical work and they’d eat lunch as a family on the sand. Evenings were spent finishing off any odd jobs, Sharon cooking dinner for the guests, and then spending their free time however they wanted, but usually together.

It was perfect.

Justin, for one, was loving the new routine. He got to wake up next to his beautiful wife and spend the days with his daughter and her boyfriend, like a real family would. Of course, Sharon would always protest that it really wasn’t that glamorous, but Justin begged to differ.

He didn’t care that he had to hold back Sharon’s hair as she was sick, and rub her back, and clean up any stains where she hadn’t gotten to the toilet bowl on time. Though she told him he was crazy, he relished every moment of it. This was what he had missed beforehand. If anything, it tugged at his heart to remember that she had done this alone all those years ago. It would be awful of him not to be as involved as he was.

“God, I’m so lucky.” He’d said, the night that Trixie and Brian had returned. The couple were lying in bed, almost half-asleep until he’d spoken.

Sharon had smiled. “Why’s that?”

“It’s amazing.” Justin told her. “I have all the joy of a beautiful grown up daughter, and life-changing experience of raising a baby, and the most breathtaking wife I could ever imagine. As far as luck goes, I’ve got it all.”

At that, Sharon had blushed, even though it was hard to tell in the fading light of dusk. She’d curled up closer to him, guiding his hand towards her tummy as she lay her head on his shoulder.

“Three months… Wow. I couldn’t have predicted this if I tried.”

“Oh yeah?” Justin teased

“Yeah!” Sharon laughed. “You and me? Marriage? A baby? Twenty years ago, maybe, but now? It feels like a fever dream.”

Justin grinned. “I can assure you that you’re awake, doll. I’ve had to pinch myself every morning since I got here and you’re still here, so it has to be real.”

For the most part, Sharon seemed okay with his enthusiasm. He appreciated that she’d done this before, and knew a lot more than he did, but she seemed to be letting him fumble and learn and try to protect her anyway. Thankfully, she wasn’t too shy to let him know when he was being too much, and her stubbornness had helped to ensure that everything stayed the way she wanted it.

It wasn’t all too often that Justin was right over Sharon, and he wasn’t sure he liked it.

“You’re such a worrier! You’re just like Trixie, a little fusspot. I’m fine, pumpkin. I can handle myself.” She told him, shaking her head affectionately.

“But the repairs are gonna take at least the next few days. I don’t wanna leave you on your own-”

Sharon cut him off with an open palm. “Justin! I’m not gonna be alone, you know that. I have Trixie, Brian if I need him, and anyone else I can intimidate into helping me. I’m only holding down the fort, I’ve been doing this for well over a decade.”

Justin conceded; she was right, after all. Every time he glanced down at the bump, he felt an urge to sweep her up and protect her, but he knew inside she’d hate to be bubble-wrapped and treated like she was fragile. This was Sharon, after all.

So he headed off towards the back of the hotel, where one of the buildings had seen the roof collapse entirely. Something to do with rain, he had been told - rotting wood and the weight of the water had caused it to cave in. It would take a while, but it needed to be done and there was no way he would let Sharon do it.

Well, that wasn’t strictly true. She was amazing at handiness and repairs, like she was amazing at everything. It just so happened that cooking and cleaning was amongst the skills that Justin wasn’t so good at, and Sharon’s guests didn’t deserve food poisoning. It made more sense for her to relax and take the easier jobs that he couldn’t do.

Over at the hotel courtyard, Sharon was mentally ticking off the list of jobs she needed to complete. The laundry had been taken down and folded into a basket, ready to be sorted and reused. Breakfast was done, and she was in the middle of serving it. There wasn’t a lot else to do, besides taking in any late arrivals. Maybe she could check her o-mails, or whatever they were called. Willam had set her an account up, and she was finding it quite fun to talk to him all the way in LA.

“Alright, two sausages, one egg and some beans for you…” Sharon stacked the plates along her arms, grinning at the young group of vacationers. University students, she guessed. “Traditional Greek salad… pain au chocolat… and some toast! Hope this is good enough!”

Ever since being put online - or was it on the line? She still wasn’t sure - Sharon had seen a surge in the amount of guests. Not too many, yes, but young people on gap years had begun to show up, having learnt of their whereabouts from the Internet. It was definitely brilliant for business.

“You know, I don’t understand why this place isn’t like, a five star booming business. It’s so nice here! So quiet!” One of the girls said.

Sharon smiled at her. “You’re sweet, thank you. No one really knows we’re here, we’ve just scraped by over the years. It’s nice to see new people.”

Another member of the group nodded. “I’ve been texting all my friends telling them that they have to come here. It’s not expensive and yet it’s worth, like, triple the price. This place is amazing!”

“Texting, that’s like o-mail, right? They’re similar?”

The group laughed. One girl volunteered, “Uh, it’s email… But yeah! Come look.”

Within minutes, the girls had pulled up a chair for her, and were scrolling through their phones, showing her bits and bobs she’d never remember. Texting was easy enough, but she didn’t understand some of it. Instant gram seemed confusing, as did Snapped Chat. Still, she had a lot of fun experimenting.

A little more time had passed than she’d anticipated, laughing with her new guests. It was only when she caught sight of the time, on tiny numbers on top of somebody’s screen, that she realized.

“Shit! My new arrivals were dropped off ten minutes ago! I’m the worst host…” She sprang up from her seat. “Sorry, ladies, it’s been really fun with your Twe- Twi- Twitter, but I gotta dash-”

Before she could go any farther than the centre of the courtyard, Brian appeared up the steps, leading the group of tourists with him.

“No worries, Sharon, I got them. Ladies and gents, this is Sharon, the hotel’s superwoman and owner. If you need anything at all - new towels, bedsheets, a friendly chat, advice on where to go, she’s your woman.” He introduced her, grinning the entire time.

Sharon swatted at him, before pulling him into a quick hug. “Yeah, sorry guys, it’s a little crazy. If you want to follow Brian to our new reception desk so you can sign in and sort your booking, I’ll be right there.”

Under Brian’s control, they headed out, many of them admiring her hotel as they went by. Sharon felt a feeling of pride sweeping through her. It had been hard, yes, and it had taken a lot of work, but she really had something to be proud of. Against all odds, she’d raised a child and managed to run a successful business. The payoff was so worth it.

One of the new guests hadn’t followed Brian, she was stood behind, where she had been at the back of the group. Sharon turned, about to ask the woman if she needed assistance, when all the blood drained from her face, and she stumbled.

“Sharon.”

Everything about her was what Sharon had sworn she would never have to look at again. Loose but smart clothing, telling of somebody who knew the climate well. Christ’s cross hung on a chain of silver around her neck. The same brown hair, though greyer than Sharon had last seen it, in the same twisted bun.

“No. You’re not here, I know you’re not. I’m imagining this.”

Sharon could see this very face in her mind, clear as day, yelling ‘I NEVER WANT TO SEE YOU IN MY HOME AGAIN!’ at her. She remembered those same blue eyes looking at her with disgust, not love, and the way those same thin lips had pursed and curled. She remembered being pregnant and scared and cursing herself that somehow, twenty years later, the situation was exactly the same.

“Y-You’re trembling…” One of the young girls reached out to try and steady Sharon, but she only stumbled back further.

“God, she’s as white as a sheet…”

Unable to see straight, Sharon rubbed her temples, trying to make the black spots go away. It didn’t work.

“This isn’t happening.” Sharon said firmly, sure that if she believed it hard enough, it would be true. “You’re not…”

—

“SHARON FAINTED! COME QUICK!” Someone yelled.

“What?!” Both Trixie and Justin yelled in unison.

Bored with having nothing to do, Trixie had spent her time with Justin, helping him with some of the roof repairing. She’d learnt a thing or two from her mom - just enough to be a useful asset.

“She fainted? Fuck, I knew something like this would happen. Quick, come on Trix.” Justin breathed, dropping his tools as fast as she could.

Trixie bit her lip. “Should we just leave all this?”

“Yeah.” Justin decided, his face grim and marked with sweat. “Fuck the repairs, she needs us. We gotta go.”

“You’re right.” Trixie agreed, sprinting as fast she could alongside Justin. Sharon had been there for Trixie her entire life, and would continue to be. The least Trixie could do was be there for her.

As she ran, her heart pounded with fear. She knew logically that her mom would probably be fine, but the worry still had encased her chest in its icy cold fist. Sharon had never fainted before, especially not out of the blue. It was well known that she wasn’t shaken easily. Besides, she was pregnant. Even if she was fine, they needed to check on the baby. Trixie poured on the speed, thinking of her tiny sister or brother and her mom all at once.

“There you are!” Brian gasped, the messenger stood next to him, panting. “I… I don’t know what happened. I didn’t see it.”

All of the new guests, along with the current ones, were gathered in a circle around Sharon, who lay across three chairs in the courtyard. Trixie shoved past them, noticing Justin doing the same.

“I… I didn’t want to risk moving her too much, so I just put her here.” Brian explained, looking distressed. Trixie placed a calming hand on his back.

“Okay, that’s okay. Mom, I don’t know if you can hear me, but you’re gonna be fine.” She spoke quietly, her lips close to Sharon’s ear. Nearby, she could hear Justin taking control of the situation, making everybody clear off and go back to their vacation. The last thing they needed, or even wanted, was everyone gawking.

“Ma’am, that includes you. I know everyone is concerned but I can assure you her family are going to take care-” Justin was saying.

She looked up as he was cut off by the remaining guest.

“I’m her mother, and I should be here too.”

Trixie didn’t have time to make the connection in her head before she was freaking out. She knew this woman; they’d been sat next to one another on the plane. Her name was Joan, and she hadn’t seen it before but she really did bear an uncanny resemblance to…

“You need to go.” Trixie said, forcing urgency into her shaky voice. “You caused this. Get out!”

Joan squeezed her eyes shut, as though she were in pain. “I need to speak with my daughter, when she wakes up.”

“Maybe you should’ve thought about that twenty years ago when she needed you. She doesn’t need you anymore.” Trixie replied curtly.

Justin sniffed haughtily in agreement. “She won’t speak to you. She has more respect for herself than that.”

“I know.” Joan said. Not once did she attempt to defend herself. “I have to talk to her, though. You said it so yourself, Trixie. There’s no way you can receive forgiveness without asking for it. No matter how scary, you have to try.”

Trixie scowled. “That was before I knew you were my grandma, the woman who made my mom’s life an unnecessary hell! You could’ve changed everything. I could’ve grown up with enough food on the table and a mom who wasn’t overworked to the breaking point. But I didn’t, because of you.”

“I know.” Joan said again. “I’m ashamed. But with the passing of her father, there’s no one left.”

Justin looked livid, far angrier than Trixie had ever imagined he could be. His eyes were fire, his jaw clenched as though he was exerting an extreme amount of control. Judging by his white knuckles, he was.

“She doesn’t have no one. She has a beautiful, intelligent daughter. She has a husband. She has a baby on the way. She doesn’t need you.”

“I need her.” Joan replied simply. “I’ve been awful to her, but a wise young woman who was raised by the most resilient person I know told me that I had to at least try. My husband’s dying wish was for us to have some kind of relationship after so many years apart. He wanted me to seek her out because he knew he didn’t have long enough left to do so himself. I’ll allow you to think on it, as I need to go to my room. Please, if she awakes, let me have one moment with her. That’s all I ask.”

With a deep sigh, Joan turned and walked away slowly. Trixie watched her back until she was gone, her chest heaving up and down with repressed anger.

“I don’t like this. Not one fucking bit.” Justin spat.

“Me neither.” Trixie agreed. “Why the fuck should she be allowed to waltz in after twenty one years of nothing?!”

Brian rubbed her hand gently, soothing her. “As someone who isn’t technically affiliated with Sharon in any way… I’m kinda looking at this objectively. Sharon’s mom wants to reconcile with her estranged daughter. This could be a chance to apologise and reunite, couldn’t it?”

“But twenty one years, Brian! Why now?”

Brian shrugged. “It’s as good a time as any, really. In a non-biased way, surely it’s better to apologise after two decades rather than never apologising at all?”

Neither Trixie nor Justin could formulate an answer. They didn’t even have a chance to try, as Sharon began to stir.

“I d-don’t know what happened, I-I was just stood up and then-” She spoke quickly, sounded disorientated. “What’s going on?”

Justin was the first one to her side, kissing her cheek and placing his hand on top of hers, resting on the bump. His concern was so genuine and tender that Trixie squeezed Brian closer to her, touched by it.

“You’re okay, baby. Just relax for a moment, before we delve into-”

Sharon bolted upright, moving so quick that both Trixie and Justin flinched back in surprise. Her face twisted into an expression of pure dismay, and she rested her head in her hands.

“Oh, god… she’s here, isn’t she? She’s really here.”

Unable to hear her mom sounding so dejected, Trixie knelt besides Justin. She had to try and cheer her up somehow.

“It’s alright, mom. It’s not a huge deal, right?” She tried. “I was- I was sat by her on our flight back. I never would’ve known…”

Sharon scowled. “I’ll bet she fucking knew. Fuck, Trix, I’m so sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?” Trixie was confused.

“I… I don’t know. I don’t know how I feel.” Sharon murmured. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t know why she’s here.”

The more Sharon spoke, worrying herself about the sudden arrival of her mother, the more Trixie started to come around to Brian’s idea. Truthfully, she didn’t think Joan deserved a chance to talk things out with her daughter, not after so long, but there wasn’t much else that they could do about it. Surely, she reasoned to herself, getting closure would be better than leaving things open ended like before. Speaking softly in order to try and keep the situation calm, Trixie expressed her thoughts. Justin pursed his lips.

“After everything she did?” He exclaimed. “I shouldn’t have left, but the least she could’ve done was looked after you. I didn’t know. She did.”

Sharon sighed heavily. “I know what you’re getting at, Trix, and you too, Brian, but… I don’t think you understand how scary this is for me. The last time I saw that woman’s face, I was eighteen years old, three months pregnant and not sure what my future would be. I’m in the exact same situation right now, just older.”

In a way, Trixie could understand it. She’d already been rejected once. She wasn’t sure if she could handle it a second time.

Brian cleared his throat. “Sharon, if you don’t mind… Again, I’m the outsider here. I’m not really part of this family.”

He waved off Trixie and Sharon’s attempts to reassure him that he was indeed a part of the family, and always would be.

“The way I look at it… yes, it’s been a long time, and yes, she fucked up bad. But she’s here now, in your home. She can’t reject you or hurt you here. All around her is the evidence of your success. You’re happily married, you have one and half kids - your life is something to be proud of. Make her see that. Let her be sorry.”

Sharon nodded fractionally, like she was afraid to agree. “I-I guess it’s worth a shot, isn’t it?”

—

The past few months of Trixie’s life had seen more change than she had ever thought possible, and she loved it.

Her mom, for the first time in twenty years, was speaking to Joan. It was clear from the get-go that no matter what, the relationship would be tense and strained and awkward, but they were at least trying. Sharon had made it clear that she didn’t want her mom back in her life, and Joan was perfectly understanding, but they had talked. Talking was a good start.

From what she’d been told, Sharon had caught her up on everything that had happened, from the day she was kicked out until now. She had said her goodbyes to her mom at her dad’s funeral, feeling much more confident in her decision with the support of her family. Though the damage couldn’t be undone, the air was clear. A building weight of twenty years had been lifted.

Secondly, she’d watched excitedly as her life transformed around her. A baby sister, the doctor had said. Somewhere inside the bump, sleeping soundly, a tiny baby sister was waiting to meet her family, and Trixie couldn’t wait to see her. Hours and hours of her free time outside of the hotel were spent perusing shelves of clothing, fawning endlessly over little pink dresses and shoes and blankets.

Though related, the last and biggest change was the arrival of her sister.

Trixie remembered wondering how one tiny human could look so beautiful. She was a perfect porcelain doll, too pink and precious to be a real baby. As she was swaddled into a warm bundle of white blankets, blinking her big blue eyes at the world in front of her, Trixie swore she felt her heart doubling in size.

A lot of things had happened in Trixie’s life, with many differing opinions on them all. But one thing that everyone could agree on was that Aquaria was the perfect name.

#purecamp #here i go again #sharon needles #alaska thunderfuck #shalaska #trixie mattel #katya zamolodchikova #aquaria #rpdr fanfiction #submission #m/f au #mamma mia au

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alexandriteobscuraarchive · 2 years

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~"Teacher! Teacher!!! I had a scary dream!!!" She doesn't even care if she's shouting after lights out. (for Teacher!!)

Thankfully he'd been in the very hallway leading to the children's rooms so he's through Michelle's door all but immediately. He's been waiting for this exact thing; he's been expecting it, dreading it, needing it, and here it was, finally....!

But he doesn't say any of that. The Teacher's expression hides its almost suffocating undercurrent of ANTICIPATION in favor of the surface level---but still genuine---CONCERN. It might be a false alarm, after all. This child's mind and the nightmares and dreams found therein might not be enough.

"Michelle, are you okay?" Her caretaker keeps his voice level, a hand flicking the lamp by her bedside on as he approaches before kneeling down to be at eye level with her. "There's nothing to be frightened of, you see? There there, there there, there there," his repetitious murmuring are familiar as is the genteel stroke of his hand across the top of her head.

Whatever her terror had been it didn't seem to want to travel far It had chosen not to follow her; moreover it had chosen to release her, which meant that she was safe. It also meant that this version of the study was, for now, A FAILURE.

Eventually her crying slows and he speaks again; offering a friendly, comforting task for her to cling to.

"How about some water? The light is on in bathroom so go fill your cup and take a moment to calm down. Whenever you get back we can look at your books together or talk about anything you'd like, okay?" This seems to please her and soon the soft patter of her bare feet can be heard across the floor as she moves outside leaving the man alone by her bed. And he does go for a book---but not one of her storybooks---but rather the journal he'd given her the day she came to the orphanage.

Quickly but carefully he flips through the pages; his eyes alighting upon and then skimming over the mundane words she'd scrawled across the lines. It was just a diary and nothing more, a diary full of happy days and restful nights, sweet little drawings and---

"Ah..."

His fingers hover over a black, messy SCRAWL all but covering the next page. He'd given her pencil to write with and she had pressed so hard and had scribbled so fast that she'd torn the paper in some places, gray moving to a pressured black with an almost frantic immediacy that was...worrying. And intriguing. Now no longer content to hover the pads of the man's fingers press against the page and move across it and his pale skin is marred by the pencil he feels something against his fingers: a line. No not just a line, but a word. And another, and another. There was writing on the page and she had scribbled it out but.....why? What had she written and why was it covered up in such a harsh way?

And something told him that there were more pages like this---the entire rest of the book could be blackened in this exact same way---all the way up until.... "....until tonight. Until tonight's nightmare. How...interesting." Perhaps he'd been too hasty in his frustrated dismissal.

But before he had time to wonder further the patter of feet coming towards the door alerts him and the young man is quick to close the book and stash it into his pocket, his lips now curving into a smile as Michelle makes her return. "Are you feeling better? I was just trying to find a book that we might like to read together! Do you have any suggestions?" Hopefully it'd be a short one or she'd fall asleep quickly because the book he wanted to read---perhaps even desperately so---was already clutched in his concealed hand.

#please ignore how bad the icon is in this post; my AM icons are an (appropriate) nightmare #;;ask response: ic teacher (*****)#;;ask response: with squiggles #anonymous

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davidmann95 · 6 years

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I read your post about why Batman is great and I love how thoughtful that is. Can you do one for Superman? Thanks ^_^

Unsurprisingly, I’ve touched on a lot of the basic aspects of it before, so for a couple parts of this I’ll keep it restrained (speaking entirely relatively), but given I think about Superman more than most people think about their best friends, I feel qualified to state that yes: Superman is great. As I said with Batman, the reasons why on a mass cultural basis are much broader than ‘he’s a really well-written character’ - hell, too often that isn’t even the case, even if plenty *have* stepped up over the years - so I’ll start with the lizard hindbrain stuff and work my way down to the finer details.

Superman has iconic power by default

What it really comes down to, at least in terms of keeping him afloat in the public eye when actual public opinion on him has been shot completely to hell over the last couple decades, is that Superman is a Big Deal. He’s the founder of his own genre: literally every surface-level aspect of his mythology is shorthand for the concept he created as well as for plenty beyond superheroes, from the suit (trunks included) to Lois Lane to Lex Luthor to Clark Kent to flying to Kryptonite to Bizarro and Brainiac to super-pets and x-ray vision. A red cape fluttering in the breeze is itself an evocative image entirely sans context, because people know that means him, by which it really means all superheroes. That means he takes the hits of getting all the complaints other characters duck even as others write thinkpieces on his place in culture and how he represents everything from America to Jesus to conservative values to the immigrant experience, all from people who may well have never picked up a comic or watched a cartoon of his in their lives. Even when most people don’t know much about him as a character, he as a symbolic figure is too massive to not grapple with one way or another, even via shorthand such as ‘he’s dumb’ or ‘he stands for us at our best’; while many of his recent woes can be traced back to people telling stories solely about or defined by that iconography, it still has power. Kids on the other side of the world from wherever you’re sitting right now know he can leap a tall building in a single bound. There’s maybe two or three other fictional characters in the world with that level of exposure and impact, and the unconscious emotional connection that comes baked right into it.

Superman is a protector

When kids talk about loving him because he can do anything, and adults talk about how he brings back those memories of joy and comfort, I think this is what it really comes down to a lot of the time. Superman’s the one who looks out for us, the guy who cares about you. Yeah, there’s gotta be the odd story about how NOT EVEN SUPERMAN CAN SAVE EVERYONE! to keep him honest, but by and large, yes he can. He wears a fun flashy uniform and he can wrap you up in his cape and fly you away from whatever bad’s happening, and even if something can catch up, no bullet or bomb in the world is going to get through him to you, or even hurt him enough to at least be scary. Nothing’s so hard or so big or so scary he can’t help, not really; he naps on clouds and swims in the sun. He’s polite, and never aggressive towards the innocent (not even that often towards the guilty), and he doesn’t talk down to people even though he’s stronger and knows better. He’s as confident as a cool big brother, as supportive and sturdy as a good dad, as vaguely ethereal and perfectly impossible as Santa Claus. It’s not an act, it’s not impersonal - he wants you to be okay, he cares about you and he’ll do whatever he can to make sure you’ll be alright. When that’s done just right? That kind of unreserved, unconditional, powerful demonstration of kindness making a difference, even from a cartoon alien, can knock a lot of typically steely emotional walls down like balsa wood, especially when that can save the day just as much as quick wits or a fist, the way anyone here could too in the right circumstances when they try their best.

Superman is a romantic figure

Something overlooked or deliberately sidelined by many is that a huge, huge part of Superman’s appeal in lots of circles is that he can be a romantic ideal rather than (or as well as) a protective one. He’s a sweet, funny, confident, smart guy who’s built like Adonis and doesn’t think he’s better than everybody else even though he’s literally the best. He holds down a socially valuable job he’s successful and happy at, he’s gentle and considerate, and he’s entirely comfortable being second in his household to a commanding career woman who he’s instinctively protective of, but also willing to back off of when she feels smothered because he acknowledges her independence. He can fly her to the moon, he never lets her forget how happy he is that when he was left lost and alone on the other side of the universe he fell to the one place he could find her, and he wears tights. The comics may forget that, but Lois & Clark knew it. Smallville sure as hell knew it. So have the last couple movies, and Supergirl. Even Christopher Reeve, America’s Dad, got it on with Margot Kidder in that weird shiny Fortress hammock. You wanna talk about the aspects of Superman that go for…ahem…primal instincts, that he’s the member of the Justice League historically most likely to go shirtless* is worth bringing up.

* Aside from maybe Batman, who’s usually beat to hell and too miserable to leverage any of that playboy charm, and Aquaman, who’s Aquaman.

Superman is an easy power fantasy

Obviously, superheroes are often power fantasies in general; they do stuff we can’t do but wish we could. And Superman’s near the top of that list not just because he’s iconic, and not even because of the scope of his power - Green Lantern and Thor are comparable in terms of raw ability, GL even has an honest-to-goodness wishing ring, but they don’t measure up in that regard. What is is, I think, is that Superman’s powers are rooted in physicality, and therefore easy to imagine yourself doing. Everything most people can do, he does best, from lifting to running to looking to hearing to punching. Even his non-physical powers have a connection to actual physical acts: to see through objects he focuses as if peering through a fog, he doesn’t shoot power blasts from his fists to light things on fire but instead burns them with a furious glare, he doesn’t dispassionately levitate through the air as a standard but takes off and holds his arms forward as if in a mighty never-ending leap. Batman may be ‘real’, but if you imagined suddenly being him, you wouldn’t be Batman, you’d be a rich dude with a weaponized theme park in his basement, because you have no training and no tangible point of reference for thinking of how anything works beyond “punch and throw things”. But it’s easy to imagine being Superman in a visceral, physical sense - just imagine everything you did worked optimally, even the way it only could in a dream.

Superman is fun

All of the above makes him grand and likable, but that’s not the same as being able to support decades of monthly adventure stories. The basis of that is that he lives in a universe-sized, Earth-shaped toybox. He doesn’t just have superpowers and a nifty suit, he’s got a cave at the North Pole right near Santa with a time machine, statues of all his friends, a space zoo, a gun that turns people into ghosts, and a bottle city full of real people, plus robots to keep it all tidy, and only he can get in because the key was forged in the heart of a star. His cousin, kid, dog, and a few of his best friends wear capes too, and his ‘brother’ with reverse-superpowers lives on a cube planet where it’s perpetually opposite day. His friends and wife often go on their own adventures and get temporary superpowers just by being in his vicinity, he dated a mermaid in college, his after-school club was in the future and he commutes to the moon for work, and his deadliest enemies include a crazed mad scientist, an evil robot with a death-heart, a mischievous imp in a derby hat, and brilliant alien computer literally named Brainiac. Superman lives in a sci-fi fantasy dreamland of childish archetypes that can exist on any scale from the microscopic to the galactic to the other-dimensional, and as a result of that he can go on any adventure imaginable, to any time and place, and as a super-man who doesn’t often have to worry for his own safety, he can survive and appreciate and care for it all.

Superman mythologizes the mundane

And it’s where the fun and the big, mythic aura Superman carries meet that the magic happens that makes him as versatile and effective a character as there is in fiction: everything he does is rooted in something incredibly normal and human. His wild super-suit of circus royalty is made to reconnect with his heritage the only way he has, and to try and make himself colorful and unthreatening to a world he needs to accept him. When he travels through time, it’s never just to save reality, it’s to go see family and friends. He walks his dog around the rings of Saturn, he looks at his city in a bottle and wonders if he’ll ever be able to get around to taking care of that, he walks on the bottom of the ocean to think things through privately, and spends an entire day saving the world to get away from a conversation he doesn’t want to have. Every mad, cosmic aspect of his world is something totally normal blown up to be as big as it feels, and even when he does interact with the truly ‘mundane’, his presence alone elevates it to myth in a way no other superhero can. That’s the true source of his ability to adapt, rarely tapped but always potent: he can do anything, because he’s us.

Superman’s an actual good, interesting character

I place this at the bottom because it’s the aspect that’s most rarely captured, especially in the public eye (though the handful of times it has been are why he’s my favorite). But when he’s handled properly, then even divorced from everything else, Superman is fascinating as a *person*. Raised knowing there’s something different about him even as his weird alienness lets him understand people and the world around them in ways no others can, he learned one day he was born of the most mind-shattering act of cosmic horror imaginable, with a place greater than Earth in every way destroyed by coincidence, a signpost by any measure that the universe is a chaotic, meaningless, cruel place that destroys the innocent with indifference…and he became a good man who treasures life over anything. He has power that lets him do literally anything he pleases, and he spends half his life among us at a desk job because he thinks we’re just swell and he wants to keep being part of it all. Even though he can never entirely, not really, divvying his life up into discrete, manageable chunks that let him interact with the world on his own terms and try to see through what he sees as his responsibility, until a woman sees through the deception and self-deception and gets the real him to tentatively come out.

He has fun little hobbies, and unusual friendships, and a complex rivalry with the one man in the world who could’ve been his equal. He’s seen the best and worst of the world, and he accepts it all, but he still radiates a decency and innocence that can be mistaken for naivete by those who don’t know him. He’s clever but easy to catch off-guard in the right circumstances, always struggling to be the god people expect him to be rather than the inadequate fake his humility can make him look at himself as, he likes football and pretzels and pulp novels and Metallica, he gets a kick out of writing because it’s one of the few things he can do on an even playing field, he’s not sure how best to raise his kid, he worries that that one alien dictator is going to pop by again soon and he might not be ready to deal with it, he has to coordinate dates with his wife precisely because they both have such busy schedules, he counts dust particles in the air when he gets bored, and he believes in everybody. There’s so much going on with this guy, this identity-case, this brute, this pacifist, this establishment-man, this rebel and idealist and weirdo and a dozen other conflicting things. He’s been and done just about everything with charm and style over the decades, and it works, because it all adds up into one nice guy’s unusual, well-rounded life. And because it’s always anchored by an understanding: for all that he’s a unique freak of creation, he knows that in all the madness and uncertainty and horror, the one thing we have to rely on is each other. So he’ll put on his suit and throw himself out there against the only things in the universe that could kill him when he could be doing anything else, because he’s found a home with us little people when he lost his, and he knows we’re worth the fight; everyone is, aliens just like him in their own ways, waiting to be saved the way they saved him when he landed in a field. That’s why Superman’s great.

#Superman #Analysis #Opinion

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witchxng · 6 years

Text

I’ve had a bunch of new followers lately, so I wanted to do a get to know the blogger tag!

1. What have you eaten today?

I had eggs and fruit for breakfast, and I’m making a salad for lunch rn

2. Who was your last kiss with? Was it pleasant?

It was with my ex, and it was delightful, but thinking about it makes me sad

3. What color shoes did you last wear?

Black, big surprise there

4. Who has made you laugh the hardest in the last week?

My best friend, Kaelyn!

5. What is your favorite scent?

Pine needles

6. What is your favorite season? Why?

Autumn, it is so beautiful

7. Can you do a handstand or cartwheel?

Neither, nope!

8. What color are your nails?

They are currently baby blue

9. If you had to get a tattoo on your face to save your life, what would it be?

I would get a crescent moon, I kind of want that anyway ha

10. What is something you find romantic?

Long walks at dusk

11. Are you happy?

I think so

12. Is there anything in particular making you happy or sad?

Adding to my crystal collection always makes me extra happy!

13. Dogs or Cats?

Cats!!!

15. Which do you prefer:a museum, a night club, the forest or a library?

The forest, I identify as a green witch!

15. What is your style?

Witchy :)

16. If you could be doing anything you like right now, what would it be?

I would be in a cottage in the woods, working on an altar

17. Are you in a relationship or single?

Single

18. What makes you attracted to the person you like right now?

He’s nice to me at work, but that’s about it. Super high standards, ha.

19. If you could replace your partner/best friend with a celebrity of your choice, would you? Who with?

Hell no

20. Are you holding on to something you need to let go of? If so then what?

I’m holding on to a lot of resentment and regret, I hope I can let it go soon

21. How did you celebrate last Halloween?

Did some tarot readings and handed out candy to the kids!

22. Have you recently made any big decisions?

Not really, life has been pretty mundane

23. Were you ever in a school play?

No, I was always too shy in school

24. What movie would you use to describe your life?

Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind

25. Is there something you have dreamed of doing for a long time? Why haven’t you done it?

I’ve dreamed of owning my own flower shop, but you know, money

26. Complete this sentence, “I wish I had someone with whom I could share…”

I wish I had someone with whom I could share my passions with

27. What are two things that irritate you about the same sex?

Girls can be very catty, and superficial

28. What are two things that irritate you about the opposite sex?

Boys can be very rude, and aggressive

29. What is the best thing that has happened to you this week?

My aunt found out she is pregnant!

30. What is something that makes you sad when you think about it?

Oh, there are a lot of things. Thinking about how I can barely afford rent is currently making me sad.

31. How long was your longest relationship?

A year and a half

32. Have you ever been in love?

Yes, I miss it

33. Are you currently in love?

I don’t think so

34. Why did your last relationship end?

A lot of reasons. He was mean to me, he found someone new, I didn’t make him happy. The list goes on. It was a mess.

35. What jewelry are you wearing right now, and where did you get it?

I’m wearing an amethyst pendant that I got off of etsy, and a couple rings I’ve gotten from different craft fairs!

36. When was the last time you cried and why?

Yesterday, because of Jacob ha

37. Name someone pretty.

I think Emma Watson is so pretty

38. What did you receive last Valentines Day?

Sunflowers and a very sweet note

39. Do you get jealous easily?

Unfortunately, yes

40. Have you ever been cheated on?

Again, unfortunately, yes 41. Do you trust your partner/best friend?

I don’t currently have a partner, but I trust my best friend with my life

42. Ever had detention?

I did fairly often in high school, I was a little shit

43. Would you rather live in the countryside or the city?

COUNTRYSIDE

44. What do people call you?

Hannah, Han, Anna, Hannah Banana, Han Solo

45. What was the last book you read?

The Book Thief! It was so good!

46. How big of a nerd/dork are you?

The biggest nerd

47. What kind of music do you listen to?

I like indie/acoustic music!!!

48. How tall are you?

5′3″, I’m a shrimp ha

49. Do you like kids?

I like babies, but kids stress me out

50. Favorite fruits?

All of the above, ha. My top favorite though is pineapple.

51. Do you wear jeans or sweats more?

Black jeans :)

52. What’s your earliest memory?

Running around my grandma’s yard during the spring

53. Ever had a poem or song written about you or to you?

I wish! That would so romantic

54. Do you prefer to be behind the camera or in front of it?

Behind it, I am so shy

55. Do you have a collection of anything?

I have too many collections! Crystals, tarot cards, shells, postcards, and pressed flowers are my biggest collections

56. Do you save money or spend it?

I try to save when I can, but I have so many expenses to keep up with

57. What would your dream house be like?

Tiny cottage in the woods, covered in ivy with a wildflower garden (I’m a basic witch, I know)

58. What top 5 things make you the angriest?

Animal abusers, people who litter, bigots, people with no respect, out of touch wealthy people

59. What top 5 things always brings a smile to your face? Witchcraft :), my best friend, cats, rainstorms, good movies

60. You are walking down the street on your way to work. There is a dog drowning in the canal on the side of the street. Your boss has told you if you are late one more time you get fired. What do you do?

Save the dog, every time

61. 72: You are at the doctor’s office and she has just informed you that you have approximately one month to live. a) Do you tell anyone/everyone you are going to die? b) What do you do with your remaining days? c) Would you be afraid?

I would tell only those closest to me, I would spend my remaining days do whatever I really wanted to do that day, and I wouldn’t be afraid at all.

62. Give me the first thing that comes to mind when you hear the word; heart.

December 7th

63. You just got a free plane ticket to anywhere. You have to depart right now. Where are you gonna go?

I’m going to Salem!!!

64. Do you like the beach?

I do!

65. Ever sleep on the couch or a bed with someone special?

I used to all of the time. I miss it, I hate sleeping alone.

66. Do you have a middle name? If so what is it!

It is Amelia!

67. Do you talk to yourself?

All of the time, I probably look crazy

68. Describe your hair.

Shoulder length, fading from box dye blue to an ashy gray

69. What is the meaning of life.

The meaning of life is to live

70. What is your ideal partner like?

Kind, faithful, funny, passionate, and supportive.

71. Do you want to get married?

Maybe one day, if I can find the right person

72. Do you want to have kids?

I don’t think so

73. Like or dislike your family?

They try their best, but my family is dysfunctional and it can be hard to get along with them

74. Are you Chunky or Slim?

A lil chunky

75. Would you consider yourself smart?

I would say yes

76. What would you change about your life?

My financial situation, ha

77. Religious or Not?

I’m a practicing wiccan!

78. You’re drunk and yelling at hot guys/girls out of your car window, you’re with?

My best friend, Kaelyn! She’s the outgoing/outspoken one between the two of us

79. You’re locked in a room with the last person you kissed, is that a problem?

It would be a HUGE problem, I don’t think Jacob and I can be in the same room anymore

80. Does anyone regularly (other than family) tell you they love you?

Kaelyn does :)

81. If the person you wish to be with were with you, what would you be doing right now?

We would be in his car, parked somewhere late at night, and just talking and laughing

82. So, the last person you kissed just happens to arrive at your door at 3AM; do you let them in?

My better judgement would say no, but I know I would always let him in

83. Do you like when people play with your hair?

YES

84. Do you like bubble baths?

I do, but I like oil baths better!

85. Have you ever been pulled over by a cop?

Yes, I drive way too fast :X

86. Have you ever danced in the rain?

I try to whenever I can

87. Do you trust anyone with your life?

I trust Kaelyn with anything and everything

88. What was your first thought when you woke up this morning?

“I want to go back to bed”

89. If money wasn’t an issue, what top 10 places would you travel to? (You get to stay at each place for a week)

Salem, Paris, Dublin, Yosemite, Amsterdam, Brussels, Montreal, Sicily, Switzerland, London

90. How was your day today?

It’s been alright, just kind of boring to be honest

91. Play an instrument?

I used to play clarinet in school

92. Describe the what you think of the ocean.

It is breathtaking

93. Do you believe in aliens or ghosts?

Both!!!

94. Honestly, are things how you wanted them to be?

NOPE

95. Do you have a mean bitchy scary side?

No, I’m a big softie

96. When are you vulnerable?

Um all of the time ha

97. How much free time do you have?

I work two jobs, so not much

98. Do you like to go hiking?

Absolutely!

99. Odd or Even Numbers?

Odd 100. Would you ever go sky diving, bungee jumping , cliff diving, wing suit gliding, parasailing, snorkeling, or other extreme activities?

Yes to all of the above!

TAG 15 FOLLOWERS TO DO THE GET TO KNOW THE BLOGGER TAG:

@woodland-lullaby @mysticnymphmagic @lookingforsummerland @floofypeach @forest-elf @shethinksoutsidethebox @pop-punk-dre @sugarmoonwitch @forgetmehots @meishallaneous @grimlilli @paganomicon @basil-witch @throwinstonesnc @starlightorchestra

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punkscowardschampions · 5 years

Text

Ali & Ro

NYD Catch-up

Ali: *Daintliy throws the tiniest of pebbles at our window 'cos I'm in trouble enough if this goes tits up without also breaking a window* Ropunzel, Ropunzel, let down your hair! Ro: allow me to busily make tea while I loudly quiz Tess and whoever else may be in earshot about their resolutions Ro: I can't believe you're only just getting home! I was going to ask how you're evening was but I think I can guess Ali: You're a 🌟 Ali: We need to fully mind-map and dream-board ours later, I've got so many ideas already but I at least need in on that tea action first, builder's brew please and thank you 😘 Ali: Shh 😉 I've been in bed since 1 💤 like an 😇 Ali: Hehe social media never lies, not mine at least Ali: I'll tell you all about it, whilst Ma tries to tell you she quit the fags years ago, like 🙄 Ali: 💃 Ro: Of course. Well, there has been a kitty there so the universe should stay on our side with that one, hopefully. Ro: Hm yes, if anyone asks you got back before I did, there's not much I can do if social media decides to answer instead though alas Ro: Oh Tess, no offense intended, but truly I'd much rather hear what you have to say Ali: Oh, Bluebs, hope she was alright with the fireworks, I paid Rocky with a selection box to keep her company but bet he was too busy being a hooligan come 12, nutter...but I'm sure she hid herself nicely warming the blankets for us anyway, like 😽 Ali: Did you and Meena have a good time? With all dem 💶💶💶 you can both more than make up for missing the hottest part night of the year, ay Ali: Bless her heart, though perhaps take her pack away from her still, you'll be helping her and, you might need one after I fill you in, like 😉 Ro: I can't tell a lie there was some bribery involved for us too with the older kids. They had me baking and the text advice I received from Tommy wasn't as helpful or coherent as usual Ro: We definitely earned our crusts it has to be said Ro: I think Meena would've liked to join you so you might want to play down the finer details when you fill her in but no complaints here, fussy children aside Ro: I draw the line at that level of trickery, we'd both be caught if I even tried I think Ali: I think its to be expected, babysitter rules are there are no rules, or very few, ESPECIALLY when it comes to sugar 😋 Lucky kiddos, I would kill for a sweet treat rn Ali: Maybe I can push it and see if the old man is any fit state to do a fry-up too, mmm Ali: We should deffo ring Tommo then and be annoyingly loud and cheerful 'cos he always gets hangovers un🍀 🦆y Ali: Payback Ali: Well her brother was there so she wouldn't have been able to have all that much fun, like, I'll be sure to downplay it though, tact is so my strong suit 😏😂 Ro: Oh? You'll be glad to hear then that I had the foresight to make enough cookies to bring a batch home. There's still a few that could be claimed by you if you're quick enough. Ro: I can make no such promises about a proper breakfast but time will tell I suppose, I'd consider it favorable if you work a little of your own magic Ro: You have plenty left don't you? Ro: We'll likely need an actual spell to wake Tommy after all Ali: Faster than a speeding bullet, me Ali: I can climb these drainpipes like nobody else 🐈💪 Ali: I'm sure we could concoct a pepperup potion, getting him to drink it is another kind of magic altogether Ali: even if we settle for calling it an energizer smoothie or something muggle Ro: Perhaps we could say it has lots of biotin that'd make him more inclined for sure Ali: When quiff is life Ali: He truly is sweet 16 Ali: And 15 is looking up for me too, fingers crossed and knock on wood rn, this is gonna be our year, Posy, and that ain't the after-affects still talkin' Ali: Wished on every 🎆 in the sky Ro: Wishing is very powerful so I'm not surprised, I am very intrigued though Ro: Go ahead Ali: I'm in 💚 Ali: 🙃 and now hiding under the covers eeeeeeeeeeeppppp bye Ro: Did Marlene get off work early last night and surprise you? That's so lovely Ali: No, no, no Ali: It's all but ended and it will be if my feeling is correct and reciprocated Ali: We'll be better off as friends, honestly, I can't give her what she wants but I can be there for as a mate so that's what's best, she'll see that given a bit of time, I'm sure of it Ali: That said...do you think I'm a total slag for who did surprise me last night now? 😳🙈 Ro: Oh okay. That makes sense Ro: No Ali, I'd never Ro: Is it someone I know? You've mentioned Meena's brother already... Ali: Oh lordy no 😂 Drew is an alright lad really but no, he's not the sort, definitely would not be reciprocated, he's got half the girls at School after him and he loves that Ali: More power to him but you're getting warmer Ali: you know the lad him and Meena live with, don't you? Caleb Cavante, in my year too Ali: 😍 Ro: I think so? He's always in the music block isn't he? Ro: He smiles a lot. Not in a weird sense though I don't mean that Ali: Oh Ro 😂 you make ME smile Ali: sounds like him, cool hair Ali: obviously, I knew of him before last night but it was just like...right time, right place, you know? Ali: Sounded triter than all the 'new year, new me' posts aren't I? Ro: Not at all Ro: It sounds like a fairy tale and we're treating it as such! Ro: Did you kiss him at the end of the countdown? Ali: Oh no, I forgot to lose a shoe...Typical, on the one night to make throwing dancing shoes aside count! But I suppose he won't have to search the kingdom high and low Ali: Back at School Tuesday Ali: At least this promises to make my weekdays more entertaining at any rate Ali: Mhmm 😊 *Gameshow host voice* BUT THAT'S NOT ALL Ro: What else is there? Did he lose a shoe instead? I dread to think what I'm missing here... Ali: [Improptu selfie with the tattooed finger over her lips like a moustache] Ali: Not saying that trumps 'Facebook Official' but 😎 Ro: !!!! Ro: did Caleb get a tattoo too? Ali: Oh silly me, yeah Ali: [Photo they took together post-tattoo] Ali: Big n Lil dipper, its cute, right? Ro: Oh my god! You better not post these, Tess will kill you, but Ro: I think that's adorable Ro: Did it hurt so much?? Ali: She'll love it Ali: we did it ourselves, on each other Ali: thank god he wasn't really crap, unfair, I'd have to go over it myself 😂 Ali: Not really, doing lil dots like that by hand is probably the most chill way to do it, it really wasn't anything to think about even Ali: I could do one for you, really get the mumbot shorting a circuit 😈 Ro: Really?! Weren't you scared?! I would be. Ro: Ali that's so brave. He must have trusted you and vice versa to such a degree Ro: Only you'd get all of this out of the way before a first date has even happened Ro: No wonder you're so giddy Ali: Nah it's not scary, you can watch next time I do one on me, if you like, see for yourself Ali: Promise it isn't dead gory or anything Ali: I'm thinking of doing a Clitocybe rivulosa, our 👑 achievement in witchery to date, you want in? Ali: Won't show Mum that one forreal, she'd lock us in separate dungeons again 👎💔 Ali: Yeah...it felt good to get that shit out of the way, this way, if he wants to look down at his hand ever again and not be reminded of a bad memory, we'll have to make it good Ali: Clever, non? Everyone will think its ridiculous, I know, but I trust his intentions now, which is more than I can say for any of my previous Ali: Bar Marlene, of course, although technically she didn't set her intentions but not in a malicious way so we're letting it slide Ro: Do you sincerely promise? I'd like to see the whole thing for myself before I make any of my own but Ro: It does sound lovely. I'd be jealous if I wasn't so pleased Ro: No offense to Marlene, oops, I'm getting carried away here Ro: It is happy news though Ro: I mean, a love letter on skin, that's just Ro: It makes me speechless Ali: 🤞 Ali: ❌💚🙏☠💉👁 Ali: Me too, it's catching Ali: It'll be better in the long run, she can find her a wifey Ali: I know, I just- ahh Ali: He just text, asking if I got Home alright Ro: Sorry but this boy is a keeper Ro: that's so gentlemanly it's like we've stepped into Austen Ro: Are you nervous about school? It just sounds so magical and classrooms are so...well, not, aren't they? Ali: Better! He wasn't stand-offish and rude to me at the party, only to be won 'round by my wit, humor and independent spirit Ali: Clearly, he's more clued in and go-with-the-flow than Darcy, a win in anyone's books, even Jane's Ali: Hmm, not particularly, nah Ali: I'm not overly concerned with what other people think, so that won't spoil it, fat chance Ali: and we've always had a certain talent for making the mundane magical, haven't we? Ro: Jane would be spinning! Lydia with all her apparent lack of concerns for 'social conventions' has nothing on you and I have little doubt you'd be overjoyed by whatever 'disgraces' Caleb had in mind Ro: A much better match that anything she'd have conceived no doubt Ro: School seems so far off still but now I really am envious that you've made certain you'll have reason to look forward to it. Very unfair! Ro: The only fly in the ointment, potentially is what Marlene might say, how much are you going to tell her? Ali: 🙊 Ali: I'd be happy to regale you with the night's disgraces but I have even less doubt that you'd rather not hear about those details Ali: You're not trying to tell me you've previously nearly eloped with Caleb yourself though, are you? 🤔 Georgiana Darcy is a pretty good fit for you Ali: Now that would be a scandal worth the gossip 😏 Ali: Perhaps you can join me and make the music block your new haunt for a bit, give the library chance to REALLY miss you, like Ali: Hmm, no doubt she'll say things she'll regret when her pride is less hurt Ali: but they aren't prejudices against my 'fake' sexuality I haven't heard before, from her as well, so 🤷 Ali: I understand why, not that I agree with her. For one, I can attest to the reality, and also, I've not got any issue with experimentation, whatever the outcome but I see her frustration Ali: Serious as she is, about, everything Ali: It'll be okay, if she doesn't want to be my friend then alright, her loss frankly, but I'll always be there for her if she chooses Ro: To be honest, no I would not. It's much too early in the year, and day, for all that Ro: Oh goodness! Flattered as I would be to considered an accomplished woman, I fall short in all necessary regards, least of all the elopement alas Ro: Hm, as much as I both enjoy, and clearly need the practice for that comparison to hold true in any sense, I think I'll leave you to the necessary haunting yourself Ro: True. She's always been very vocal, hasn't she? I can understand if you slightly relish the opportunity to leave her speechless just this once too Ro: And it really would be her loss if she chooses that path to go down anyway Ali: What can I say? I'm an overachiever Ali: Couldn't even help myself, like 😎😂 Ali: No you don't, and you're a year younger, you're well ahead of the curve set and it ain't even necessary for a lady to have pleasant hobbies and talents in our day and age so Ali: You're an overachiever too, that's why I loooooove you 💚 Ali: S'cool though, suppose we don't wanna turn up en masse, put him off his A game, bit rude Ali: It is one of the things I admire about her but less so her dogmatism Ali: No one is always right about everything, even me 😜 Ro: Thanks I suppose Ro: Though I probably shouldn't pass on that wisdom about not always being right to everyone else at the kitchen table Ro: Not if I would like to live to be a year older at any rate Ali: Honestly 🙄 Ali: No wonder they love Marlene so much Ali: Ma is gonna be gutted, no doubt it'll be all my fault Ali: like lowkey but damn, woman, show a little loyalty when your daughter can't 😂 Ro: She'll calm down as long as you keep your gentleman caller away from the door for a while I'm sure Ro: When is the first date set for actually? Oh so exciting! Ali: Yeah, we've both agreed as much Ali: For Lene's sake as much as mother's Ali: Gotta get my house in order Ali: I don't know, ooh, what should we do?! Ro: There's always the open mic if he'd adore being serenaded Ro: Sounds like you'd have time to work on a dedication if not a song Ali: THAT IS A FANTASTIC IDEA Ali: I'll bring out an old classic, best to stick with what I know and am best at for max best impressions Ali: Can always go new and exciting with the outfit 🤩 Ro: Exacty Ro: Your full of good ideas when it comes to that Ro: Oh! We should go donation diving. New year, new clothes to peruse through Ali: Yes! We must we must! Ali: Best time of year for it, ungrateful fuckers binning their unwanted presents Ali: Regift 'em our way 🙏 Ali: Marlene wants to meet up later Ali: Looks like we're doing this today then, ugh, we can hit the charity shops tomorrow maybe? The sales rush shoulda died down a bit at least Ro: That works for me, I'd rather not fight for my faux furs, somewhat defeats the desired purpose Ro: I'll be around if things with Marlene go according to plan, or otherwise and you need to talk it out Ali: Agreed, though I'm down for granny bashing our way to the bargains if needs must Ali: I'll be getting some practice in today, like 🙃 Ali: Thank you though, Posy Ali: Sure it'll be fine Ro: I know it will. You can do this Ro: I can condone that much at least, your shopping behavior less so Ali: 😽 Ali: With you on my side, how could I fail? Ali: She is getting narky though so watch me waltz down the stairs and out again like missed me missed me

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