#above all it will be sunset and we will feel the august air on our skin and smell the food and the animals and we will be at peace | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

typewrittenluck · 3 years

Text

as the seasons change

C!Technoblade x gn!reader highschool!au

Word Count: 9.1k

Pronouns: they/them

A/N: this is literally so self indulgent, i spent a whole day writing this because im going through my techno feels rn. it basically follows the story of oblivious Y/N and Techno throughout the four seasons :)

Warnings: Underaged drinking, Swearing, Smoking, Drugs (very brief)

Suggested Songs: The State of Grace, Taylor Swift/ MEET ME AT OUR SPOT, THE ANXIETY, WILLOW, Tyler Cole/ that way, Tate McRae/ Falling, Chase Atlantic/ Compass, The Neighborhood

SUMMER------------

The August air was thick with the heat of the almost-setting sun. Her rays beat down on the backs of the group of teens, and mosquitos filled the silences between them with their incessant buzzing.

A small crack of static preceded the soft sound of music, accompanied by the sharp smack of Niki and Jack’s celebratory high-five.

“Didn’t you start setting up the speaker like an hour ago?” questioned Wilbur, who was sunk into a half-broken lawn chair that he had found in the garage.

“Yeah, it would have been much faster if you had asked Techno” chimed Y/N from their place leaning against the above mentioned man’s leg.

His grunt of response was cut short by his little brother, Tommy, bursting into laughter.

“Because he’s TECHno! Get it?!”

Everyone groaned and Wilbur smacked Tommy upside the head, grumbling about “shouldn’t have let you come hang out with us”

Y/N giggled at that, but took sympathy on the boy. “Aww don’t be like that Wil, Tommy, I thought that was hilarious.”

“Don’t encourage him, Y/N” Techno leaned down to murmured to them in his low, monotonous voice.

There it was. The way he said their name! The way his calf felt under Y/N’s back! The way he whispered sentences directly to them, as if it was some closely guarded secret. It was enough to bring butterflies to their stomach as they praised whatever higher being was out there for the heat of the day covering their blush.

“It’s so fucking hot,” Fundy moaned, kicking Wilburs shin from his place lying facedown on the grass. “Can we go to the pool or something?”

His request was met with a spectrum of responses, varying from Tommy’s “YES, PLEASE WILL? PLEASE!” to Technoblades indifferent shrug.

Jack took note of Technoblades open response with a shout of laughter. “TECHNOBLADE IN THE POOL! I WOULD PAY GOOD MON-”

“I’m not getting in, dumbass.”

“Why? Scared you’ll ruin your hair?”

“No, he doesn’t want us to know he’s secretly jacked under the sixteen sweaters he wears.”

Technoblade picked up the hem of his sweatshirt, making eye contact with Niki. She has a point.

“How do you wear that in the Summer?”

“It’s n- TOMMY!!”

Shrieks of laughter follow Tommy’s water gun assault on his brother. “When did he slip away to go get those?” Y/N wondered aloud.

“WHEN ARE WE LEAVING??” Tommy asked enthusiastically.

---

A crowded minivan, a stop to pick up Tommy’s friend, and a raid of Phil’s linen closet for pool towels later, the group arrived at the neighborhood pool. The sun hung low in the horizon as people spilled out of Phil’s van and began dragging the pool toys and water guns towards the gate.

The air around the black metal bars barring their entrance to the pool seemed to quiver.

“I think Wil has the pool key.” piped Niki in response to Fundy throwing his weight against the fence.

Fundy, in turn, sprinted back to the car, where Wilbur was taking inventory of snacks (and probably hiding the best for himself).

Technoblade looked down at the two younger boys and Y/N conversing in hushed whispers. All of a sudden, they screamed out in perfect synchronization, in equally high pitched voices,

“Let me innnn! Let me in pleaseeee!”

And promptly burst into giggles. Y/N almost toppled into Techno, both from laughing and the slight weariness from the heat.

The pool noodles he was balancing beneath his arms (laden with tote bags of pool toys and towels) toppled to the ground, but he didn’t care. All he cared about was Y/N’s hand steadying themself on his chest, and the way his face began to heat up almost unbearably considering the weather.

“Oops, sorry!” they squeaked, leaning down to pick up the fallen noodles.

Technoblade was burst out of his daze by the return of his brother and Fundy, who triumphantly swiped the access card against the pad before kicking the gate wide open.

The clang of metal against the concrete pool clubhouse sent reverberating waves into the air, and everyone winced as the metal continued to drag.

Pool entrances varied, Niki, on the one hand, took her time tip-toeing into the water by the stairs, while Tubbo and Tommy almost knocked each other out crashing over the edge to the deep end.

Y/N chuckled at their antics, but seeing as they had settled on not getting wet today, they picked out a chaise in the shade and pulled a book and pen out of the small bag they had brought with them.

Technoblade watched them with almost unwavering interest, unless someone happened to look his way, in which case he would quickly turn back to his phone, scrolling aimlessly through his home screen until they turned away.

From his spot under the little roof of the clubhouse, he had an almost unobstructed view of Y/N, and how they chewed at the end of the pen they used to annotate their book. Oh how he wished he could read the little notes they scribbled in the margins, or the drawings they would surround words with when they got distracted from reading. And the way that pen dangled from their lips, their tantalizing, soft lips. Taunting him, almost. And their jewel-like, bright eyes. Always so inviting and playful; like the way they were meeting his right now-

Shit

He hadn’t realized he’d been staring that intently. A small quirk of their eyebrow and a smirk on their lips was enough to make his heart give out. But not now. Not when they were waving their hand so intently to get him to sit next to them. Pretending to ponder the decision and gather his belongings, (when in reality he was just collecting his bearings), he walked over to them.

“See! You don’t always want to be alone, Mr. I’m so antisocial and I hate everyone!” they smiled, patting the adjacent seat.

You’re the only exception, he thought, his brain screaming and pushing to let the words leave his mouth. He couldn’t though, not when they could never think of him the way that he thought of them.

So he answered with a small smile and a chuckle.

“What are you reading?”

“The Picture of Dorian Gray! Remember you said you thought I’d enjoy it?” they answered with enthusiasm, that sparkle still evident in their eyes.

It warmed his heart to know that they had taken the suggestion and committed to the book, which was admittedly a pretty tough read, because of him.

“How could I forget?”

Their smile widened and they buried their head back in the book, that cursed pen once again being squished between their plush lips.

Technoblade peered over their shoulder to see that they were nearing the middle of the book, where Dorian returns from his theater date with Basil and Henry. Feeling satisfied enough that they were invested in the story, given their gasp and furious scribbling in the margins, he felt it safe enough to stare at them under the orange-tinged glow of the sunset.

Of course, he forgot about the crowd of his friends who were nudging each other and whispering about his infatuation with you. The whispers reached Wilbur who narrowed his eyes in his twin's direction and made a mental note to ask him about it later.

Once dark hit and the water began to run a little too cold for anyone's taste, they began to wrap themselves up in towels and raid Wilburs snack stashes. The snack distribution was cut off by Wilburs phone, screen lit up with a zoomed in photo of none other than Philza.

DADZA!!! Read the contact name as Wilbur swiped the screen and held the phone between his shoulder and ear, continuing to hand out snacks.

“OI, where in fucks sake are you lot? It’s an hour past the devils ass why i…”

The rest of Phil’s screaming faded as Wilbur walked away to calm his father down.

“AN HOUR PAST THE DEVILS ASS” Y/N screamed with laughter, sending the entire group into raucous peals of giggles.

“Yep, mhhm, we’ll be there” Wilbur walked back towards the group, motioning for everyone to get in the car.

“Yes dad I know, yes, okay we will drop him off. Okay, bye” Hanging up the phone, he ushered people back into the car, holding Tubbo back by his upper arm so that he could sit with easiest access to the door.

After dropping Tubbo off, and then doubling back and driving around town to drop people off at various houses, Technoblade, Tommy and Wilbur were alone in the car with Y/N.

“Here. Here. WIL! Pull over!”

The van screeched to a halt as Y/N clambered over Tommy’s long legs, almost falling out onto the pavement. They leaned against the door of the passenger seat, thanking Wilbur and bidding farewell to the brothers. Just before they stepped away, Technoblade leaned down and kissed the crown of their head where it was leaning against his open window. Their stunned expression was lost in the dark and the window slid shut as Wilbur slammed the gas pedal to make it back in time before his dad’s curfew.

“What the fuck was that”

Technoblade gave him a glare, which lost its effectiveness when paired with the burning red blush flooding his face and neck, highlighted under the harsh white lights of the car. He turned his face away and resigned to staring out the window, the night air filtering through the small crack giving his face a little bit of relief.

“Okay at least tell me, are you together?”

“No.”

“But he likes them!” piped up Tommy from the back seat, looking up from his phone where he was playing a game.

“No I- I don’t” Damnit The crack in his voice gave it away.

Wilbur, sensing that it seemed to be more of a sensitive topic than he thought, decided to drop the subject for the time being, and Tommy was already absorbed back in his game.

The rest of the drive was spent in silence as they raced against time and the rules of Philza Minecraft.

AUTUMN----------------------

School started a few weeks after the pool night, which was followed by many late nights and summer fun by the friends, the knowledge that half of them would be away to college next year heavy in the atmosphere. To say the least, Junior year was not treating Y/N well. They were almost always working on homework, if not doing SAT prep, and they rarely went out with their friends. The only time Technoblade got to see them was during his AP Lit class, and because of it, he considered himself the luckiest man in the world. Ms. Ren’s Literature classroom was the only place Technoblade seemed to see the old Y/N, the one from over the summer who got enthusiastic over books and gave him playful punches when he was a little too mean to their friends. Now, the only Y/N he saw was a stressed, tired person who was always carrying an energy drink in one hand and a stack of homework in the other. Except for in Lit. Y/n’s eyes would brighten as they discussed the reading from the previous night and their legs would jostle Technoblades from under their shared table to show him an annotation they had made. Technoblade assumed they were just rejuvenated from the literature, never once letting the thought cross his mind that maybe, just maybe, he was part of the equation too.

On the rare occasion that they would hang out with their friends, they would be easily prone to tears and every conversation would be redirected to how tired and stressed they were. Of course, Technoblade wanted them to be happy, and felt enormous empathy for his friend in the harshest year of high school, but he had suddenly become hyper-aware that the clock was ticking on his time left with them. He was a senior this year, and while Y/N still had a year left to go, Technoblade would be on his way to college, perhaps out of the country, in less than a year. It wasn’t wrong to want to make the most of his time with them.

It didn’t help that this internal time bomb was also counting down the opportunities he had left to tell them how he felt.

-----

He decided to get to them when they were in a good mood, and more likely to say yes. After Ms. Ren had finished assigning the reading due by Monday, he turned to the beautiful person who sat next to him and muttered in a low voice,

“How’s your weekend looking?”

They looked up with a bright smile and whispered back

“I have tons of homework but I should be able to knock it out with a good day of work. Why? What do you have in mind?”

He knew this was the right time to ask you.

“Just be ready by 4pm on Saturday.”

----

Technoblade sat on the edge of his usually neat bed, now strewn with almost every sweater he owned. He was picking a stray piece of lint from the sweater nearest to him when he saw his brother walk past, then backtrack out of the corner of his eye.

“What’s got you all indecisive?” Wilbur asked, gesturing vaguely to the sweaters and random articles of clothing adorning his room.

“Wait! Is today your date with Y/N?”

“It’s not a date.” grumbled Technoblade.

“Then why are you so stressed about what to wear?” he replied with raised eyebrows.

Technoblade groaned and threw himself on top of the pile of wool on his bed. “I just need this to be perfect. Y/N needs a break, and they deserve everything to be just right.”

“And you want to impress them” sang Wilbur, now nudging Techno aside to sift through his sweaters.

Technoblades noise of indignation was muffled as Wilbur threw a cream colored sweatshirt at his face.

“What about this?”

“I couldn’t find what to wear it with.”

Wilburs sigh rang through Technoblades room as he opened the closet, now in his proper mindset as the family fashion consultant. Garment after garment was thrown in Techno’s general direction, and he leaned and reached to grab them all.

“Try that”

Technoblade walked out of the bathroom to find Wilbur rummaging through his jewelry.

“When did I say it was fine for you to go through my stuff?” asked Technoblade, shoving Wilbur away. Wilbur shrugged in response, motioning for Techno to open his hand so that he could drop his selection of rings and necklaces into his open palm.

As Wilbur walked out the door, he thought he heard a faint “thank you”, and smiled to himself.

-----

“This is elaborate”

“I’m a dynamic man Y/N.”

Y/N laughed at his response to the back seat of Technoblades car, which was filled with “supplies” for the evening.

“That outfit sure is dynamic.”

“Why?” Technoblade asked nervously, drumming slightly on the steering wheel. “Do you like it?”

“I love it! I didn’t think you could get any hotter but you somehow pulled it off!”

Realizing what they said, Y/N’s cheeks flushed a deep red and they began to pick at their flannel. As soon as Technoblades surprise wore off, and the butterflies faded back to the dull sensation that always seemed to linger when he was around them, he let out a snort of laughter. That sent both of them into a fit which continued until Technoblade hit a pothole from laughing so hard.

Y/N’s momentary fear only made them laugh harder, but Technoblade attempted to quell himself before he no longer had four functioning tires.

“Do I get to know where you’re taking me?” Y/N asked. They had driven a little ways out from the city, to the vaguely familiar areas that one only drives by when they’re leaving town.

“Yes.” He replied, slowing the car into a small parking lot. “Because we’re here.”

The pair entered the small bookshop and a bell rang overhead. The store smelled of dust and books and Technoblade saw Y/N breathing the scent in like a breath of new life. Of course, this ended up in a small coughing fit which he pulled them out of with a few pats to their upper back.

“Okay we are on somewhat of a schedule, so I need you to go get a book. Any book, and meet me back at the register in 10 minutes.” He said, grabbing them by the shoulders and making direct eye contact. “Okay, Go!”

And they both got lost in the mazes of words.

At 4:30 sharp, Y/N found Technoblade waiting for them at the register with a stiff red hardcover. He reached out for their book as they reached for their wallet.

“Tech, no, you don’t have to buy me books I can get it myself”

If for nothing else, the way they shortened the already shortened version of his name made his heart stutter, and he was overcome with the sudden urge to buy them every book in this store. But he wordlessly nodded his head ‘no’ and paid for their two books.

As they walked back to the car, Y/N admired the way his jewelry glistened in the sun. The gold necklaces contrasting against the black turtleneck he wore under his sweatshirt made them think of the summer, when his rings would shine under the sun and in the light of their almost nightly group bonfire. Technoblade opened the door for them when they got to the car, pink hair flying in his face because of the wind. Before getting in, Y/N threw their arms around his neck in a hug.

“Thanks”

They mumbled into his neck.

He blamed his pink cheeks on the cold.

-----

“Let me carry something!” Y/N argued as Technoblade led them down the path of a park a little ways away from the bookstore.

“No.” he answered, a basket and three bags dangling from his arms.

The argument continued as they made their way down the paved path, leaves crunching underneath their feet. A little ways into the walk, when the conversation had faded to discussing the latest reading assigned by Ms. Ren, Technoblade stopped Y/N by throwing a tote bag-laden arm against their chest.

“Here.”

He parted the branches that covered a small, unpaved path that led deeper into the trees.

“How do I know you’re not trying to lure me here to kill me?” mused Y/N, already a few steps ahead of the pink-haired man on the pine-straw path.

“Yeah hold on, let me just get my axe out from this basket real quick” deadpanned Technoblade, earning a giggle from Y/N.

A few moments later, the path opened up to a clearing with a few fallen logs and a small brook trickling near the edge.

“This is beautiful Tech! How did you find this?” they asked with an awestruck expression.

He hid the way that his ears flushed with his hair and busied himself laying out the picnic supplies he had dragged all the way out here, mumbling something unintelligible.

Once he was done, he looked up to find an empty clearing, Y/N nowhere to be found.

“Y/N?” he called

He received a response in the form of a small yelp and a rather loud splash. “Over here!”

“What the hell were you thinking?” he asked, sprinting over to the edge of the stream. Their giggles calmed him a little bit, but didn’t absolve him of all his worry as he subtly looked them over for any injuries.

“I thought the rock would be steady enough to hold me” they pouted, gesturing vaguely at the rock in question, now shiny with water.

Technoblade sighed, rolling his eyes at their antics, but hoisted them up nonetheless. Once they were back on solid ground, he curled his finger around the back of his sweatshirt's neckline and pulled it over his head, almost knocking off his glasses in the process. He missed the way Y/N’s eyes narrowed and focused on the way his black knit turtleneck hugged his figure, tucked into the dark brown trousers Wilbur had dug out of his closet just hours previously.

“Are you warm?” asked Y/N with an incredulous look, teeth slightly chattering.

“It’s for you, dumbass. You’re almost sure to get sick in those wet clothes.”

Y/N’s heart stuttered at the gesture, and at the way Technoblade shushed them when they tried to argue.

He turned away as Y/N shed their dripping flannel and replaced it with the sweatshirt, warmed by his own body heat.

When he turned back, he almost lost his breath again. Seeing them in his sweatshirt, the sleeves dangling past their fingertips and their hair a little tousled from pulling the garment over their head, messed with him just a little bit. He ignored the way that his cold-nipped nose was turning redder and redder and instead gently picked up their hand to guide them over to where he had set up the picnic, next to a towering tree with a thick trunk.

Both of them were hyper-aware of the way that his fingers held theirs, and the warmth that seemed to radiate from their touch. Neither one of them wanted to let go, but as they plopped down onto the picnic blanket sitting on the ground, their grip fell apart.

The loss of contact made the October day seem colder.

The muffled crunching of the leaves under their butts filled the air as they settled into a comfortable position and began digging through the picnic basket Technoblade had brought with food. The tension in the air slowly faded as they began to eat and the atmosphere filled with the joyous conversation of the two painfully oblivious teenagers.

When they had both finished eating, Technoblade pulled out the bag that he had brought from the bookstore and handed Y/N their book. The smile that graced their lips as they mumbled out another ‘thank you’ brought another wave of butterflies down Technoblades stomach. He pulled out his own book and made himself comfortable against the thick tree trunk behind him. Y/N reached into their back pocket and pulled out a ballpoint pen, the cap of the pen riddled with chew marks.

The damn pen.

They stuck it between their teeth and let it hang off of the right side of their mouth. Technoblade felt his chest heat up as they nudged him over to share his spot leaning against the tree. He opened his phone and hit play on a mix of Arctic Monkeys and Gang of Youths, before leaning back to where his shoulder was pressed with theirs and opened his book.

Time seemed to forget its rules in this quiet little forest, with just Y/N and Technoblade lost in their separate worlds of words. The peace was only ever disturbed by Y/N occasionally scribbling something down in the margin of their book, to which Technoblade would demand to see, and they would fall into a small discussion about the topic.

These occasions slowly began to wane off until Technoblade felt Y/N lean their head against him with a thud. He looked down to see them fast asleep, half leaning on his shoulder with the pen still clutched between their fingers. He took note of the way the pen was balanced like a cigarette and the small puffs of air following their cold breath resembled smoke. Ignored the way his heart was almost convulsing on itself, he chose to wrap his arm around them and savour the moment.

Because he was aware that before he knew it, it would be over.

WINTER---------------------------

The student media center had a hushed atmosphere to it, as people took advantage of their last afternoon to study for semester finals. Winter break would let out the next day, but for the overwhelmed Juniors and Seniors now crowding the library, the excitement would not set in until they quelled their nervousness over the last final of the semester.

One of the study rooms situated in the back was now crowded with the notorious friend group as they crammed for their last final. Fundy, Jack and Niki were trading around their history notes, Wilbur and Minx were arguing over the proper situation of a unit circle, and Technoblade was flash quizzing Y/N on the Polyatomic ions. Their frantic studying was interrupted by their friend, George, who had gotten bored of watching his two best friends during their last football practice of the semester. He quietly walked in and took a seat in the corner, pulling out a notebook and studying something or the other.

“Why aren't Dream and Sapnap here cramming with us?” Minx asked George.

“They have their ‘weightlifting’ final tomorrow” seethed George, most likely jealous of his friends’ somewhat pointless final.

Everyone laughed, and some groans of similar jealousy rang through the air right before the cracking loudspeaker of the school crunched to life, announcing that the doors would close at 6:00. Y/N looked down at their watch face, which read 5:45.

“Fuck, I’m never going to learn these charges! Don’t even get me started on the fact that I don’t have the solubility rules memorized!” squeaked Y/N in frustration. Everyone gave them a sympathetic look, knowing the rigorous emotional and mental demands of taking AP Chemistry.

“Don’t worry, you still have the whole night to study!” consoled Fundy.

Technoblade felt his heart break at the way their eyes filled with tears of frustration.

“My siblings scream way too much, I can never concentrate at home”

“Come study at our house!” exclaimed Wilbur. “We can kick Tommy out so he won’t bother you!”

Wilbur sensed their hesitation and cut in before they could say ‘no’

“Come on, Dad won’t mind, he loves you! And it gives us an excuse to send Tommy out!”

Y/N turned their head in questioning to Technoblade, who grunted and nodded his head.

“I mean, if you’re sure”

Eager nodding.

“Thanks so much Wil!”

---

It was 11:50 and Phil’s living room resembled something closer to an FBI clue board, with flashcards and chemistry notes strewn on every possible surface. Wilbur had retired to bed after reviewing his Calculus notes one last time, and Tommy was spending the night at Tubbo’s. Phil leaned against the doorway and watched his son coach his best friend through the last few chapters of the textbook with a smile on his face.

“Make sure not to go to sleep too late! You need enough sleep for your final!” he called, retreating up the stairs.

Y/N checked their watch and sighed at the time. “I should get going soon.” they mumbled, beginning to collect their notes.

“Stay the night” suggested Technoblade, pulling a blanket over their shoulders to protect them from the December chill that seemed ever-present, even with the crackling fireplace illuminating the room.

“I can’t-” A yawn cut their sentence “I can’t stay, I don't have anything and I’ve wasted enough of your time already”

Technoblade took them by the shoulders and looked them in the eyes, albeit having to lean down. “You can never waste my time”

Shivers ran through Y/N’s tired body and they offered him a weak smile.

He plucked the pen that was hanging from their mouth out and feigned disgust as he wiped it on their shirt, before throwing it in the pile of stationary by his feet.

“How about you stay for a hot chocolate?”

The invitation was too hard to resist so they gave in, as long as it was “only ten more minutes”.

Technoblade filled two mugs from the pot of the beverage that Phil had left on the stove, and topped it with marshmallows and whipped cream.

Y/N took the mug from him with a ‘thank you!’, and led the way back to the living room to nestle under the warmth of the fireplace. The pair were both exhausted from the day of studying, and chose to sip their beverages in silence. Before either of them knew it, they were both asleep under Y/N’s blanket, cuddled up against the cold of the night.

---

They woke up to the banging of Wilbur running down the stairs.

“Shit, you two are still asleep?”

Y/N jumped up, knocking over their empty mug in the process. “Fuck, what time is it?” they asked, urgently rummaging around for their bag.

“8:00”

“What time is your final?” grumbled Technoblade, still half-asleep with no intention to get up until his final later that day.

“8:20” they whined, almost breaking down.

“Hey, it’s fine, go get clothes from my room, take anything you want. I’ll drive you.” said Technoblade in a calming voice.

Y/N looked at him with desperate eyes and thanked him before retracing the familiar path to his bedroom.

Technoblade cracked his back and followed Wilbur into the kitchen, intending to make Y/N a nutritious breakfast and pack them a lunch, but was met with Wilburs smirking face.

“What’s the deal?” said Technoblade in his monotonous low, pulling things from out of the fridge.

“Are we going to ignore that you and Y/N slept together?”

“Gross you perv, we just fell asleep studying”

Wilburs smart-ass response was cut off by the arrival of the person in question, clad in one of Technoblades sweaters and sweatpants and ripping their fingers through their hair to attempt to tame it.

Technoblade ignored the all-too-familiar flutter of his heart at seeing them in his clothes and handed them a yogurt bowl he put together. “Let’s go, you can eat it in the car.”

They definitely broke laws driving at breakneck speed, but they pulled into the school parking lot at 8:15 and jumped out of the car, Technoblade following them to make sure they made it to the Chemistry classroom on time. With a minute and a half to spare, they arrived at the door to the classroom, earning a sigh of relief from both of them.

Dr. Yachtrong ushered Y/N into the classroom, but not before Technoblade placed a kiss on their forehead and wished them good luck. They entered the classroom in a daze, which they quickly shook off when the tests were passed out.

---

The final bell rang for the day and the cheers rang around the school, drowning out the crunchy loudspeaker announcements to “have a good Christmas” and to “make good decisions”. Y/N had headed off to their last few classes following the Chemistry final, which had gone as good as one could expect a Chemistry exam to go. They were fairly sure they had passed which at this point, was a major win. As they left the History hallway, they saw their friend Karl leaving the art classroom.

“Karl!” they waved him down.

“HEY! Y/N!!!” he giggled excitedly “Schools out!”

“I know!”

Excited chatter filled the hallways and they bumped into Sapnap, Punz, and Dream leaving the weights room.

“How was your weightlifting final?” snickered Y/N

Punz answered with a slight push to their head. The group was shot out at the front courtyard, where almost all of their other friends were waiting.

The celebratory mood was punctuated by Karl inviting everyone over for an “Epic School Sucks Party” at his house later that night.

Y/N looked around, searching for the pink-haired man that had been flooding their thoughts more than usual lately.

He had been acting differently, nervous even, since the day they fell asleep on him at the park. Y/N was only scared last night's incident would make it worse.

“He’s probably finishing up his Latin stuff” murmured Wilbur, leaning down to their ear.

Y/N’s ears burnt a bright red upon knowing that Wilbur knew who they were looking for. They looked up to answer, but he had already gotten immersed in a conversation with Quackity and George.

The man in question came out of the front doors of the building and made a beeline for their cluster of people upon seeing them. Y/N couldn’t help but admire the cuffs he wore on his slightly pointed ears, and the way his long pink hair fell behind his-

“Oi Y/N is that Technoblades sweater?”

Screw you Minx

“Y/N spent a surprise night over last night” snickered Wilbur, wiggling his eyebrows.

“It's. Not. Like. That.” screeched Y/N, punctuating each word with a smack to Wilbur, somewhat drowned in the laughs and gasps of everyone in their group.

“Why are we hitting Wilbur and can I join?” asked Technoblade once he integrated himself into the tangle of people. The laughs hushed as everyone turned to look between Y/N and Technoblade.

“What?”

-----

The heat of Niki’s curling iron sent warm shivers down Y/N’s neck, a grateful contrast to the harsh December chill plaguing the outdoors. She blew gently on the warm hair before letting it all fall back, tousling it to break up the curls.

“Thanks Niki!” said Y/N gratefully, examining themselves in the mirror. “You’re going to have to teach me how to do this someday.”

Niki laughed, already standing in front of the bathroom mirror to apply her eyeliner. With one eye closed, she spoke to the person now standing behind her, checking their outfit from different angles.

“So really, what’s going on between you and Technoblade?”

She knew of their intense crush on the pink-haired boy, which had started somewhere between 8th grade and freshman year, but she also knew that Y/N tended to be more closed off about their deep personal life.

Y/N sighed, almost in disappointment. “Nothing. And that’s the problem.”

Due to Niki’s sympathetic look thrown their way, they fell down a rabbit hole of ranting which led them to where they were now; on the floor beside Niki’s bed with Y/N’s head in her lap.

“He always acts so weird around me. One minute he’s holding my hand or kissing my forehead, and the next he won't even look at me, or only answers in short sentences. And it stresses me out because I think he hates me, but then he does shit like buying me books just to go read in a forest with him, or staying up all night with me to study for my Chemistry final, and I just-” They took a deep breath, containing their rambling.

“I just get more confused.”

----------

Karls party was in full swing by the time Niki and Y/N got there. They were met at the door by Sapnap and Quackity, who for some reason were handcuffed to each other, and were both giggling and flushed. Y/N and Niki hung their coats on the rack by the door and walked into the festive atmosphere of the house, seeing familiar faces in every corner.

Despite the rowdy environment and the deafening noise, the party was relatively small, consisting of only 20 or so of Karls friends.

They followed Quackity and Sapnap into the living room where a semi-circle of people was lounging on various couches, passing around a blunt and playing what seemed to be truth or dare.

Ah. That’s where the handcuffs came from.

Niki and Y/N decided to play, Niki offering to go fetch them both drinks in the kitchen as Y/N found their place in the circle. To their surprise, Technoblade was there, seemingly uninterested in the game and more invested in something he was doing on his phone. Upon seeing Y/N, he gave them a smile, cheeks flushed with alcohol, and gestured to the small spot between him and the couch armrest. All eyes followed Y/N as they perched on the armrest, mumbling a small ‘hi!’ to Technoblade.

Niki returned with two drinks in hand and shared a knowing glance with Y/N, as well as a miniscule smile, before handing them their drink and taking a seat on a cushion next to Jack and Minx.

“Okay okay, In honor of our new guests arriving, Y/N, truth or dare?”

Y/N knew by the looks everyone was giving them that choosing truth would not be the best option.

“Dare.”

A small sigh of disappointment left Karls lips before a mischievous light came into his eyes and he perked up again. “I dare you to sit in Technoblade’s lap”

Snickers echoed across the group as Technoblade looked up at the sound of his name. He looked up to where Y/N was balancing themself on the edge of the couch, and with some burst of courage, that was probably induced by the alcohol, he wrapped his arm around their waist to tug them into his lap with a squeak of surprise.

After recovering from their initial embarrassment, Y/N turned to the man whose lap they were in. “Techno, truth or dare?”

He huffed but quietly breathed out “Truth”, suddenly very aware of how close their face was to his. After a few brief seconds of eye contact which seemed to last an eternity, they stuttered out

“Umm, do you,- actually, how did, how did they get you to play? This game... I mean?”

“BOO! WHAT A BORING FOOKIN QUESTION!” called Minx from the cushion she was on.

His response of how he didn’t mean to get dragged in to this “stupid middle schoolers game” was slightly slurred as he took a big chug of whatever liquid was floating around his red solo cup.

This worried Y/N. They never saw Technoblade drink more than enough to get him slightly tipsy, but they brushed it off on end-of-the-semester excitement. In any case, they would confront him when they got the opportunity to talk to him alone.

---

Said opportunity arose after the Pizza arrived, and most people began to file into Karls movie room to watch whatever garbage show he decided on running. Y/N stayed back, intending to have full access to the pizza and Technoblade, noticing this, stayed with them. Y/N hopped up onto a counter and pulled the pizza boxes to them.

“Hey Tech?”

“Heh?”

“Are you okay? I haven't seen you drink this much before?” they asked, running a concerned hand through his hair before pressing it to his forehead to check how hot he was.

His eyes closed and he nuzzled into their touch.

“I guess I’m just nervous.”

“Nervous? What do you have to be nervous about? It’s winter break” they answered, a small smile on their beautiful face.

This was his chance.

“I have to start applying for colleges.”

Fuck, he missed it.

-----

The food brought a new bought of energy to everyone at the party, and by 3 in the morning, the celebration was still heavy in the air. Everyone thanked whatever brought Karl’s parents to buy a house far removed from any close neighborhoods, so the noise wouldn’t earn them a police visit.

Loud music blared from the speakers in the living room, which had been cleared of furniture to make space for the energetic teenagers.

Y/N took turns dancing with Niki, Minx, and Jack before being stolen away by Sapnap who spun them around until they almost threw up. Eventually, Y/N ended up on the outskirts of the dancefloor, where they saw their favorite apathetic pig-boy leaning against a corner, snickering at everyone who was embarrassing themselves in their drunken haze.

“WANNA DANCE?” asked Y/N leaning towards him to enunciate over the music.

How could he say no? When they were looking up at him with those big, bright eyes and a slight sheen of sweat over their face.

-----

The party began to dissipate nearing the hours of dawn. Around 5, people began trickling out. Except for the select few who had decided to just crash with Karl.

Technoblade and Wilbur parked a little ways away from their house, walking the rest of the way and ushering each other up the tree by Wilburs bedroom to sneak back in.

It was locked.

“You dimwit, didn’t you unlock the window?”

“Of course I did you arse, where do you think I snuck out from?”

Their bickering was interrupted by a small tap on the glass by none other than a smirking Tommy.

“Leave it to him to only wake up when he wants to annoy us”

“Tommy, let us in.”

Tommy made a rubbing motion with his index finger and thumb. Looking at Wilbur and sighing, Technoblade pulled his wallet out and held up a 10.

Tommy made a ‘more’ motion

20. Then 40. Then 50.

“So generous of you lads, come on in!” he giggled, snatching the money from his brother and leaving the window open for the two to clamber in awkwardly.

Technoblade snuck back into his room, stripping off his sweaty clothes and falling onto the mattress. Before he blacked out, he saw two notifications come in.

BitchBur: I took these pictures tn, thought u might want them ;) (8 images attached)

And

Y/N <3: I hope you figure out the college situation! <3 let me know if you can hang out sometime :D

He opened Wilburs text to find a collection of candid pictures Wilbur had snapped over the course of the night. One of Y/N in his lap, a few of them laughing together over pizza, a few of them on the dance floor, and what had to be his favorite: a picture of them kissing his cheek as a ‘good luck’ for his arm wrestle with Dream.

A smile creeped onto his face and he felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude for his brother. He set the last picture as his wallpaper before turning off his phone and falling into a realm of blackness.

SPRING------------------

“That was my very last AP Exam!” exclaimed Y/N, walking through the door of the coffee house where all their friends were lounging.

The small shop erupted with cheers as they celebrated everyone finishing their school year. The cheers eventually died out, though, as the realization sunk in. Tomorrow was graduation.

The seniors in the group, Wilbur, Technoblade, Minx and Fundy were all going off to college.

Wilbur to England, Fundy to the Netherlands, and Minx to Ireland. The one person who hadn’t decided on a college yet was Technoblade.

“Why do you all have to leave the country?” whined Y/N.

A chorus of similar sentiments left the other juniors who were scattered around a few tables that had been pushed together.

As the conversation descended into dorms and expenses, Y/N received a text from Technoblade. The shock of the ‘ding’ made the pen that had been balancing between their lips clatter onto the floor.

Apathetic pig-boy: come outside

Y/N looked around, not having noticed that Technoblade had disappeared from the table. Taking advantage of the conversation everyone else was immersed in, they quietly snuck out, but not without avoiding Wilburs keen eyes, which narrowed upon realizing his brother was not at the table.

They wandered outside, finding Technoblade sitting at one of the outdoor tables covered by the awning.

“My Yale email came in.” he said as soon as he saw them walk outside.

They jumped with barely contained joy. “What did it say?”

“I wanted you to be here when I opened it.”

Everyone knew that Technoblades dream college was Yale. He had talked about it ever since he was a little kid, screaming about Greek mythology on the school playground. Y/N knew that it was Technoblades biggest ambition to study literature at one of the most renowned colleges in the world, but they still felt a twinge of sadness. On top of losing half their friends, they couldn’t lose the one person that meant the most to them too.

“Open it!”

Y/N leaned against the back of Technoblades chair, almost falling over his shoulder as they watched the loading icon on the college’s website.

Technoblade clicked on the notification and they both read it together

Congratulations! We are glad to inform you…

“THAT YALE UNIVERSITY HAS DECIDED TO ACCEPT YOUR APPLICATION! TECH I'M SO PROUD OF YOU!” Screamed Y/N, wrapping their arms around his shocked figure. They placed a million kisses all over his face, gushing about how proud they were of him, ignoring the gut wrenching feeling inside of them.

“What’s the screaming about? Did you two finally get together?” Asked Wilbur as the group flooded out of the coffee shop to see what the commotion was about.

“Yale accepted me.” mumbled Technoblade, just loud enough for them to hear.

The cheers that followed his announcement almost made their small hometown collapse. Congratulations were exchanged and backs were pat, and in the mess, Y/N managed to sneak off to the side. The only person who noticed was Niki, who followed them to the corner of the parking lot where they were kicking at the asphalt with their converse. She sat down, and the two rested in silence, the April wind blowing their hair all over the place.

“He’s leaving.” He’s leaving me. They wanted to say, but they didn't.

Niki gave her friend a small side hug, somehow interpreting the sentence accurately. “He’s pursuing his dreams Y/N, you know he doesn’t want to leave you.”

“How do I make him stay? It’s selfish and I’d feel like a bitch but Niki I don’t think I can live without him.”

“Y/N.”

“Hmm?”

“You need to tell him how you feel.”

----

The next day brought sunny skies and the enthusiastic atmosphere of graduation. They had all managed to snag themselves some graduation tickets to see their friends finish high school.

Jack, Niki, and Y/N were sitting in a Wendy’s parking lot, waiting for the clock to hit 11:45 so they could start making their way to school. It seemed empty without the Seniors of the group, as they were all at school getting ready for the ceremony. Y/N voiced this concern aloud, to which Jack responded, “We’ll have to get used to it. This is how it’s going to be next year.”

And the three fell into silence, sullenly dipping their fries into their frostys.

----

Jack, Niki, and Y/N let themselves be jostled into school with the crowds of emotional parents and kids who were already bored of the event. They found decent seats, near the front aisle and set their belongings down.

Not a moment later, they were greeted by Philza, who filed in with the rest of the boys extended family to sit beside them.

The dimming of the lights led to hushed whispers erupting from the previously rowdy crowd.

Procedure came and went, the salutatorian and valedictorian giving their respective addresses to the crowd, the speech of the somewhat bored principal, and finally,

“Without further ado, presenting the Graduating Class of 2021!”

Cheers erupted from the crowd as names began to be called.

Within the first five minutes, the boredom began to set in and Jack began a game pigeon game, which Phil demanded to be added to. The four played the digital card game until they were pulled out of their concentration by a familiar name being called. They erupted into cheers as Fundy walked across the stage to pick up his diploma and shake the Principal’s hand. The process was repeated until Minx, her eyes shining as she shook the principal's hand earnestly, then flipped him off quickly behind his back, which sent the auditorium into a fit of laughter.

Person after person was called up, until...

“Technoblade Minecraft”

Philza almost cried. He stood on his chair, screaming in excitement for his son which made the boy in question flush as he collected his diploma and took a rather rushed leave off the stage, but not before seeing the heart that Y/N made with their fingers in his direction.

The same general act happened during Wilburs announcement, except that he laughed and gave his dad a cheering motion with his hands.

---

The group spilled out onto the lawn of the school, congratulating people they knew when they saw them. Technoblade and Wilbur joined their family, receiving hugs from a very emotional Tommy. Y/N, Niki, and Jack waited behind for their friends to finish up with their families before tackling them in hugs. Screams and whoops came from the puddle of people on the floor, everyone yelling things to each other. The atmosphere was charged with happiness, and relief, and one couldn’t help but feel elation despite the bittersweet nature of graduation.

“Alright mates, party at my house!” boomed Philza over the noise.

The infamous graduation party. They had planned the two-part party in middle school, when they had had their first sleepover at the group's “hub”, aka Philza’s house. Since then, the party had become a reality and the first part would be executed tonight. The next being, of course, when the remaining half of the group graduated.

A marquis was set up in Phil’s garden, now uncluttered and full of spring blossoms. It was such a different atmosphere than it had been last summer, when their bonfires would stretch out into the early hours of the morning.

Food laden tables were scattered around the marquis, and to everyone's delight, a chocolate fountain rested on one of them.

After collecting food and gifts from various guests, the group found themselves sitting under the shade of a large tree with a rickety old treehouse balancing on it, which Tommy and Tubbo were attempting to devise a plan to get into with the help of their friend Ranboo, who didn’t seem as enthusiastic about the idea as the others.

“My flight leaves next week.” sighed Minx, leaning against Niki’s shoulder.

“I’ll be out of here by July the latest”

“Phil’s taking us to London next week and I’ll just be staying”

Everyone turned to Technoblade to reveal when he would be leaving for college.

“I’m going to Connecticut a week before the beginning of the term”

“So how long will you be home this summer?” Y/N asked, setting down their cookie.

“Between travelling and dorm set-up, I’ll probably only be here for about two weeks total.”

Y/N’s eyes filled with tears as they pushed their head into Technoblades chest.

“I just-” sniffle “I just can’t believe you’re all leaving!” they cried, muffled by Technoblades button down.

This sent everyone into a fit of tears as they all began hugging each other for what seemed like the hundredth time that day.

The moment was interrupted by Phil, who came out of the house with a camera and various props. Encouraging everyone to gather around and take pictures. Everyone scuffled around to fix their disheveled appearances and began making their way to Phils makeshift photo booth.

“Tech- wait!” called Y/N, pulling him back by the forearm. “Your hair”

They put pressure on his shoulders to get him to lean down so that they could fix his stray hairs.

Right then, looking at the way Y/N’s shoes sank into the ground and feeling their light touch in his hair, he decided. I have to tell them. This is my last chance.

“Hey Y/N?”

“Hmm?”

“I-” deep breaths, “I need you to-”

“Come on, lovebirds get in the picture!” called Phil, walking over to drag them to where everyone else was.

Y/N gave him an apologetic look, woven with the silent promise of later.

Damnit Dad.

----

The pictures had lasted what felt like eons, but between the corny props and the harsh afternoon sunlight, they held valuable memories.

But Technoblade had no interest in them at the moment, as he dragged Y/N behind the trunk of the tree they had sat at before.

The sunlight filtering through the leaves made Y/N’s face all that much more beautiful, and Technoblade struggled to tear his attention away to focus on telling them. He gathered up his courage and opened his mouth to speak.

But the only thing that came out was “OW!”

As a pinecone bonked off his head and rolled away on the ground, leaving chips of it in his hair.

“Look out below!” Called Tubbo from somewhere above them. So they managed to get in. Damnit.

Y/N took his hand and led him to the other side of the tree, away from the boys’ field of destruction. They sat down gently, pulling Technoblade down with them to pluck the pieces of pinecone out of his hair.

“Here. Distraction free! Now tell me what you’ve been trying to say because there’s something I need to tell you too.”

That gave Technoblade the perfect opportunity to gather his nerves. “You go first”

“No, it’s fine you!”

“No you go!”

It seemed as if the stars had collided and sent out particles so many eons ago with the knowledge that everything would lead up to these two kids coming to the same conclusion at the same time.

“I love you”

Their eyes met as they stared, wide-eyed and gaping-mouthed at each other. Overcoming the initial shock, they began to ramble.

“I didn’t think you felt the same way because you always got quiet around me and then you woul-”

“Can I kiss you?” Technoblade interrupted them, not really hearing their rambling through the buzz going through his brain.

They nodded shyly in response as he wrapped his hand around the back of their neck to pull them dizzyingly, tauntingly closer. He looked into their eyes one more time to make sure they were serious, but Y/N was already closing the gap between their lips. They hoisted themselves into his lap and gripped his hair to bring him impossibly closer.

But alas, in this group of people, nothing goes unnoticed or undisturbed.

“EW! TECHNO’S KISSING Y/N!” screamed Tommy from the balcony of the treehouse which resulted in whoops and cheers from everyone at the party.

“FINALLY!” yelled someone amongst the crowd.

Y/N felt their ears burn a bright red as they buried their face into Techno’s neck.

“Yeah Y/N! Get some!”

“Oh fuck off!”

A/N: i hope u guys liked it :D, also this is my first time writing with they/them pronouns so if i made a mistake pls don’t hesitate to correct me!

#c!techno #technoblade #technoblade x reader #mcyt x reader #technoblade fluff #technofluff

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chandelier-s-notebook · 3 years

Text

MCYT AUgust by me and @ghostofsilas Day 9: Wings AU

Hi, so I’ve missed all of the days due to motivation. So, we’re just gonna mass post for the next two weeks until I’ve got them all done.

Hi Hermitrcraft people, that appear after the :readmore: this isn’t crosstagged impropterly.

Taglist: @sleepysnails

Ao3 Link

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

Techno was not made for travel, he was made for the hunt. Yet here he was, traveling the continent on the search for his little brother.

He soared above the dirt paths up to the north of the continent. Letting his elytra glide him, he occasionally set off a firework to propel himself forward.

The wind was on his side today, which was nice. It was always easier for Grian to fly against the wind than Techno, but that’s just because he was basically a bird.

Techno snorted. Grian wasn’t a bird. He just had these large colourful parrot wings protruding from his back, demanding that every red jumper he owned had two slits to accommodate them.

One would never in a million years assume that Grian was Techno’s biological little brother, but families came in all shapes and sizes, and if Grian was a bird and Techno a pig that was none of anyone else's business.

Techno and Grian were close as children. He’d gotten his elytra very young, and the two of them had a running joke about it. “No need for natural wings, store bought is fine,” Techno muttered to himself as he reached Boatem.

Boatem was great. It was a little settlement that Grian and four of his friends had set up.

Techno remembers the first time he visited a few weeks ago. He didn’t actually know where Grian was at that point, but all he had to do was follow the whispers of chaos. So that’s what Techno did. He packed his bag and he followed the stories of a man in a red jumper and parrot wings causing a ruckus in the north.

Techno swooped over the terracotta and granite hill into town, bringing his arm down his fingers brushed the mossy top.

He heard explosions in the distance.

He’d take a look around the next time he visited, explosions were infinitely more pressing a matter.

He twirled midair and boosted himself up high to get a good vantage point. He knew vaguely the direction of the explosion, but he didn’t want to have to deal with weaving around buildings and vehicles.

Grian’s bright rainbow wings were visible from a mile away. He darted downwards and landed on the stone plateau with little fanfare.

Techno had faith in his baby brother--and he was sure that it was all in good fun--but seeing him and his four friends standing around a furnace with end crystals directly behind them would bring concern to anyone.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“Tech!”

“Grian!” he automatically shouted back with much less amusement. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“We’re having a standoff!”

Techno glanced at the bouncing purple objects prone to exploding warily. “This doesn’t seem safe,” he cautioned.

“Nope! But you’ve got a bed right there and our stuff is in chests!”

Those reassurances did little to quell Techno’s discomfort and worry for his little brother. “But you could die.”

“That’s the point!” he said gleefully, motioning to the eggs in his hollister. “Right? We’re all friends here, yeah?” he asked, turning to his buddies.

“Of course, of course!” Scar proclaimed from under his giant top hat. “We’re all friends. No hard feelings, we’re just having a little bit of fun is all!”

“No ill will here Mr. Blade,” Impulse said, smiling wide. “We’re just passing the time.”

“Testing our reflexes,” Pearl added, nodding along. “We’re just playing.”

“Yeah, we do this all the time!” Mumbo said, intently watching the lit furnace.

Techno gave them all unamused looks, though that was his natural expression. He sighed deeply and sat down on a large rock away from the end crystals on the edge of the plateau. “I’m here to pick up Grian, so finish up quickly.”

“Sir, yes sir.” Mumbo saluted.

“You are all dangerously close to those things,” Techno couldn’t help himself from pointing out.

“We know Mr. Blade! That’s the point!”

Pearl nodded. “We play to the last man standing. When the furnace runs out you throw your egg to any of the crystals and the last person alive wins.”

“All in good fun mind you!”

Techno made a non-committal sound of agreement and watched the furnace intently. “A game of strategy and reflexes. You need to hit first, but you also need to choose who to hit for the best chance at you winning. Guess who everyone else will hit and make sure that everyone else is dead.”

“Techno!” Grian whined. “Stop making this strategic, let us have fun with this silly little game.”

He rolled his eyes. “Fine, fine.”

“Did you just tell Technoblade to shut up?”

“Yes he’s my older brother Mumbo, get with the program.”

“But he’s Technoblade!”

“Nah, he’s just my big brother Tech.”

Then the furnace burnt out. There was a minor amount of pandemonium that Techno could not even fathom trying to understand, but in the end Scar was the only one still standing. His top hat might have been lightly singed, but he was hollering in pure joy.

Impulse, Mumbo, Pearl, and Grian didn’t seem put off by the murder at all, which was a nice change for Techno. Sure the Hunger Games were all in good fun, and they could respawn, but there was always an air of hostility even when not in game. It was nice to see these people having fun and joking around with each other as they put their items back into their inventories.

But Techno was here on business. “Pack your things, Grian. I’m sure your friends will put them away for you.”

“Yeah, yeah. Anything I’ll need?” Grian asked, digging through his shulker box.

“Just your sword.”

“Great. Pearl, could you put this in my alley?”

“Yup!” she said, throwing Grian a thumbs up from where she and Mumbo were mining away the obsidian.

Grian nodded and picked up his sword. He tossed it into the air, and let it spin before dropping down into the palm of his hand. He grinned and batted his wings, arcing into the sky he circled above. “Come on Technoplane! We’ve got places to be!”

Techno then took a running leap off of the mountain and set off a firework to propel himself forward.

Grian whooped as Techno passed him and the two flew off into the sunset.

#Technoblade #Grian #One-Shot #MCYTAUgust2021 #Mumbo Jumbo #GoodTimesWithScar #PearlescentMoon #ImpulseSV

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yukidragon · 3 years

Text

Our Life Snippet - Unsettled in Sunset Bird

It’s time again for another slice of my Our Life: Beginnings & Always fan novelization’s first draft! After two weeks in a row of Step 2, let’s have something from a different step, shall we? Let’s take a peek at a piece of the spooky little Step 1 moment: Ghost.

As always, thank you all for enjoying my work, and a special thanks in particular to this lovely game’s lovely creators, @gb-patch. You’re all wonderful!

…

It was a dark, moonless night, still and silent. It was so quiet that it didn’t feel natural, and that was what kept Jamie from sleeping. Normally the nights would be filled with soft noises, like the air conditioner thrumming, and the faint hints of the wind, crickets, and the ocean drifting in from outside. There seemed to be none of that tonight, no matter how hard Jamie listened, and that troubled her. Her hearing was sensitive, so she should have heard something of the usual night time sounds besides her own breathing. The only solace she found in the oppressive silence was the faint sound of Lizzie snoring in the next room over. It at least reminded her that she wasn’t alone in the house.

Jamie tried her best to shake off how eerie the night felt. Unfortunately, not even rereading her favorite book in the gentle glow of her flashlight under the safety of her covers could make her stop noticing the stillness around her. Each turn of the page was loud, too loud, and it left her too uneasy to continue reading.

After putting her book away, Jamie kept her flashlight by her side, though she forced herself to turn it off. She was supposed to be sleeping no matter how eerie it was. She just had to remind herself that there was nothing lurking in the dark, no matter how scary it seemed. There were no such things as monsters or ghosts or boogie men that tried to snatch little kids’ feet if they were too slow to get back into bed safely - her parents said so and they were right about just about everything.

Jamie tried to distract herself with happier thoughts. Memories of the fun she had this summer were the first thing to come to mind, and she sifted through them like pages in a scrapbook. This was the best summer she had ever had, and she knew that was because of Cove. All of the best moments involved him.

It was funny. Jamie had only known Cove for, what, two months now? It wasn’t a very long amount of time at all, yet her new neighbor had already become such a big part of her life.

It didn’t feel like it was August already. It felt to Jamie as though it had only been a week or two since the start of June when she first met Cove. Summer always passed by much too quickly, but this one slipped away in a blur of laughter and sunshine. It really was true that time flew when you were having fun, and it made sense that every day she spent with Cove sped by faster than a rollercoaster.

Jamie settled into her pillow with a smile on her face as she remembered the fun she and Cove had just earlier that day. Her eyelids dipped heavily, sleep finally catching up to her as she dreamed up new adventures the two of them could have tomorrow.

That was when something scraped against the window.

The sound was practically deafening in the eerie silence, and Jamie jolted upright, her eyes flying open wide to stare at the window. Nothing but darkness and the dim glow of buildings in the far distance greeted her.

It was just the wind, Jamie reassured herself. Or rather, it was likely that the wind pushed one of the branches from the tree outside her window against the glass. It wasn’t uncommon, especially in the summer when the breezes could get pretty strong, so that meant there was nothing for her to be scared of. Summer breezes could be the worst sometimes.

Jamie tucked herself back under the covers and turned her back to the window. She wasn’t going to be a scaredy cat over a tree branch and some wind. She was eight - way too old to be scared of the wind.

The scraping repeated itself, and Jamie felt the sound crawl up her spine like pins and needles. She grabbed fistfuls of her blanket and pulled it over her head, determined to ignore the creepy sound. It was nothing, and she wasn’t scared.

Unfortunately, the more Jamie tried to ignore the eerie noise, the louder it seemed to grow. The more she heard it, the less it sounded like it was a branch scratching the windows; it sounded more like something outside trying to get her attention, and it was scraping its long, gnarled fingernails against the glass, wanting to come inside.

The image made Jamie turn back around and sit upright, her eyes wide and fixed once again on the window. Again, she saw nothing there… or, at least, nothing she could see.

Jamie inched closer to the window to get a better look outside. Movement caught her eye, and she focused on the tree outside as it swayed a little in the breeze.

That proved it, Jamie told herself. It was just the wind and the tree. That was all.

Jamie kept repeating this to herself as she once more buried herself beneath the blanket. It was only the wind and branches and nothing more.

But the scratching didn’t stop. Though Jamie squeezed her eyes shut tight and tried to ignore the scraping noise, it just got louder, drowning out the sound of her heartbeat echoing hard in her ears.

For a third time Jamie sat up and stared out her window at the swaying tree, trying hard not to blink. She waited, determined to see the branch scrape her window and prove that there really was nothing to fear, no ghosts or witches or monsters trying to pry their way inside her room and gobble her up.

When the sound repeated itself, Jamie flinched, her entire body tensing up. The tree was bending in the wind alright, but not far enough for even a single branch to reach her window.

Nothing was there. Nothing touched her window. Nothing.

Jamie all but leapt from her bed, scooping up her flashlight and stuffing her feet into her slippers before hurrying to her bedroom door. She couldn’t ignore this anymore. She had to know what was making that sound.

Quietly, Jamie crept down the stairs. The lights were still on downstairs, which meant that her moms were still awake. They always stayed up so late every night.

Her first instinct was to go to her moms, but they were busy watching TV in the living room. Jamie didn’t want to bother them, not when there was nothing to see. All she had to do was go outside and see for herself that there was nothing to be scared of and then she could go back to bed.

The soft soles of her slippers allowed Jamie to sneak soundlessly past the living room. Her moms didn’t notice, too focused on whatever they were watching on TV. They didn’t even hear the soft click of the front door’s lock or the sound of it being gently opened then even more gently shut as the little girl snuck out into the dark, eerie night.

…

Cove couldn’t sleep. It wasn’t all that unusual that he would find himself lying awake in this house that was supposed to be his home now. Although the place had grown a bit more familiar to him in the past two months, this bedroom still didn’t really feel like it was his room even though it had all of his stuff in it. This left some nights, like tonight, with him lying awake and staring at the bottom of the bunk above his head.

It was so quiet. That should have made it easier to relax and fall to sleep, but tonight it somehow left Cove feeling uneasy. The only sound he could really notice was the faint burbling of his aquarium. It was also the only source of light, casting a soft blue glow through his otherwise darkened bedroom.

The fish swam around in their little home without a care. Even without his glasses, Cove could see them well enough to watch them. Some of the fish drifted about lazily while others zipped to and fro as if they had no idea it was night and everyone should be winding down for sleep.

The sight was soothing. Most nights when Cove had trouble sleeping, he found that simply watching his pets go about their own fishy lives to be a comforting distraction, and at some point he’d drift off to dreamland.

Maybe it would’ve worked that night too if Cove didn’t feel so painfully homesick.

Since his dad dragged him there, Cove had grown a bit more familiar with Sunset Bird and its countless weird quirks, but that didn’t mean he was used to it. There didn’t seem to be a day where he didn’t compare it to his real home, especially when something happened to leave him feeling alone and helpless, like a night that felt eerily quiet and empty like tonight.

Cove knew that he wasn’t really alone in the house, no matter how much it felt like he was. His pets were right there, and he knew his dad only a couple rooms away. The only one who was supposed to be there but wasn’t was his mom.

It was hard for Cove to wrap his head around the fact that it had been two months since he had seen his mom. He couldn’t think of a time when they were apart for more than a day before he was taken away from his home. She called practically every day, and it was always a relief to hear her voice and her reassurances that she missed him and still loved him, but phone calls weren’t a substitute for being with her face to face.

Her phone calls made Cove happy, but at the same time, it was hard not to feel angry with her and the countless excuses she had about why he couldn’t come back home or why she wouldn’t come see him. His dad had just as many excuses for why life just couldn’t go back to normal.

Excuses, excuses, excuses. His parents just expected Cove to accept it all no matter how unfair it was. They assured him that he would feel better about everything eventually, but he didn’t. Supposedly this house would feel like home eventually, but it didn’t. Nothing about living here felt right to him even after so many uneasy nights in this weird place. Nothing about Sunset Bird felt like home, and he knew it never would be.

A smiling face with blue eyes that glittered like the night sky filled with stars popped into his mind unbidden, disrupting his gloomy thoughts.

Jamie. If there was one good thing about Sunset Bird that Cove couldn’t find anywhere else, it was her.

Although Cove couldn’t stop missing his home and his mom, somehow spending time with Jamie allowed him to forget just how much it hurt when they were together. Somehow she had the power to make every day they spent together so much fun. He never felt lonely like this when she was around.

When Cove first came to Sunset Bird, he thought he’d never be able to smile ever again, but somehow he could when he was with Jamie. He could even laugh again despite everything. He had friends back home, but they never made him feel the way she did. Sometimes the way he felt around her confused him, but he couldn’t say that he disliked the strange fluttering feelings she set off inside him sometimes. Every moment they were together felt more right than anything else in the world.

It was a shame that it was too late to go see her. Maybe if Jamie was there, Cove wouldn’t be feeling so uneasy in ‘his’ bedroom right now.

Cove let his thoughts drift back to the fun they had earlier the day and the plans they had for tomorrow. Jamie promised to show him some secret spots only she knew about. She didn’t say what exactly made them so secret, but he was curious to see what he might find there all the same. Everything she shared with him was always so interesting and fun. He could hardly wait to see her again.

At some point, Cove found his eyes growing heavy as he focused on the countless memorable moments he shared with Jamie this summer. He stopped thinking about all the things that were wrong and missing as he filled his mind with thoughts of her.

Cove had barely begun to drift off when a horrible scraping sound tore him from sleep and threw him harshly back to reality.

Cove jolted and his eyes instantly darted to the window, heart pounding hard in his ears. He didn’t see anything strange, but it was a lot harder to see in general in a dark room without his glasses. Reaching over to the nightstand, he quickly retrieved his glasses and put them on before casting another frightened gaze to the window.

When the sound repeated itself, Cove threw back the covers and hopped out of bed. A shiver ran through him, not just because of the unsettling sound, but also because it was an uncomfortably cool night. He hurried over to the window and peered out into the dark night, but all he saw was the fence and the wall of the house next door. There was no sign of whatever made that eerie noise.

Cove couldn’t settle down without some sort of explanation, some proof that whatever was causing the noise wasn’t something frightening and dangerous like a ghost or a monster or… He barely cut his thoughts off there as another shiver ran through his body, one definitely not caused by the temperature this time.

His bedroom faced the side of the house, but his window was wide enough that if Cove looked at just the right angles he could see some of the backyard and the street in front of the house. What little he saw of the backyard showed him nothing but ominous dark shadows that could be anything, while in front…

A shock of blue caught his eye instantly. In the glow of the street light stood none other than Jamie. Her hair was down for once, but that was obviously because she was dressed for bed, not running around outside to play. She stood in the middle of the street in a set of purple patterned pajamas and a pair of oversized slippers that looked a bit like she stuffed her feet in a couple of her stuffed animals.

Cove stared at Jamie for a moment more, watching as she looked up one side of the street then down the other. Then he was hurrying to shove his feet into his shoes. He barely thought to throw on a sweater to combat the cold before he quietly snuck outside to find out what drew her outside on a creepy night like tonight.

#Our Life Beginnings & Always #Our Life #ourlifeba #Cove Holden #Jamie Last #Jamie Leimomi #My Writing

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littlefreya · 4 years

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One More Touch Before We Die

Summary: It was the devil who wanted to be loved the most

Senses: Taste | Sounds | Touch | Scent | Sight

Pairing: August Walker x OFC

Word count: 1.5K

Warnings: Romance, smut, sex, fingering, slight oral, body worship.

A/N: Continuing the senses challenge @viking-raider and @dancingwendigo has been doing. Doing a different character with every sense. Thanks @agniavateira for editing my work like a queen! Please leave feedback :) it keeps me fueled.

Title: One more Touch Before We Die

The cabin’s bedroom was lit by the pink glow of the winter sunset over the mountains. The tender hues draped the sky, embraced by the purple clouds that floated feather-like in the empty air. Glimpsing at the open window, I wondered how something so weightless, something I was unable to sense on my flesh, made so much impact on my anima.

Maybe because August made me experience the world through his eyes. All that existed was magnified, every emotion intensely evoked. Like waves breaking onto rocky boulders during an angry storm.

“You can’t blame the ocean, angel. It just does what it knows, as I do.”

As fire consumed, as water broke mountains into hollow caverns.

But there was no anger between the large red bricks that padded the walls of the room, only solace. And in the midst of that serenity, August’s fingertips found me, as they always did. Completely bare onto the big wooden bed, cushioned by soft furs, he laid a mere inch from my soul. His supple fingers ran across the ridges of the cage that held my lungs as I laid on my side. He counted the bones voicelessly.

I was made of his rib after all.

Tender and lingering, he followed the valley that was my waist, sliding smoothly, adoring the parabola that led to my hip. My muscles raptured at his touch, stretched chords danced joyously as atoms collided. Microscopic cells kissed, creating a chaotic reaction that rippled through our blood and the entire stellar existence.

His hand ghosted away then, anticipating my reaction, for my answer to his calling. I turned on my side to face him, dazed by his beauty. Aquamarine eyes swallowed me whole, and in one of them was a deserted splash of warm brown that spilt like watercolours by mistake. It represented him so perfectly, like an island in a vast sea.

My hand moved to his cheek, gently caressing his gruff skin. August was all man in his being, primal and strong. He made me feel all woman. Slender and petite, in need of his protection; I felt safe while others feared him.

Gently I stroked down, letting the short stubble scratch my skin before I leaned to brush my lips against his own. The coarseness of his moustache tickled the tip of my nose as I moved in to kiss him.

My heart accelerated as I felt the wetness of our flesh breaking against one another. I decorated the corner of his mouth and followed down to his carved jaw, nibbling at the cut shape of his bone. A low groan escaped his throat as I pressed my hands flat against his hairy chest, as if to stop ourselves from falling into nothingness in case we lost our hold.

He held me back yet so feverishly, his fingertips hovering over the small of my back like butterfly wings, flapping over my spine carefully. These hands could kill but to me, they’d do no harm. After all, I was his princess, his angel.

I descended down his form with ease, trailing kisses down his broad chest. The hair of his body was soft against my lips. I licked at his nipple, circling my tongue around the small peak, listening to the hiss that left his lips. Only I was allowed to touch August Walker, and I wanted to believe that no woman ever revered him the way I did.

Hard muscles adorned his torso with defined, toned abs. I felt the sinew as I stroked down his abdomen, following with my mouth which left a wet path down his skin. His hand ascended up the ridge of my spine as I fell between his hips. His touch sent little electric tremors through my nerves.

It spread through my body, like unstoppable molten fire.

His immense cock stood solid between a bundle of dark curls. I sneaked my hand to seize him, my palm pressing against the ridges and tendons that throbbed and twitched to the joy of my touch. I pumped him slowly before taking him into the warm cage between my lips.

The groans August made were heavenly, his fingers threaded through my hair and I coveted more. I slid him deeper onto my tongue, closing my eyes as if I was the one being made love to. My chest felt heavy, my heart clenched like an angry fist. Fuck, I was in love.

But always eager for control, his hand gripped my chin to stop me. With a small shift, it was me who was being worshipped by his hands. His grip became firm as he explored my body. One hand ran down the course of my back, flowing south to my behind to squeeze one cheek and part it with zeal. Two fingers stroked between my petals, rubbing from behind, slowly moving back and forth to smear my juices across my slit while his eyes sought for my trust.

I was ripe and fresh, my utter devotion laid at his being. He pressed his lips together, cooing at me as I moaned once his fingers curled inside me. It was meant to taunt me, not relax me. He knew the effect he had on my body; he loved teasing me, loved to see me begging for more.

And begged I did, I pressed myself into him, feeling the warmth of his skin, our flesh grinding together.

I did not want to say it, but my body screamed for him.

August flashed me a slanted smirk, the crease on his cheek caved in, splitting his skin into an endearing dimple. He knew he had me. With his fingers still toying with my slit, he took his cock in his left hand and teased my hot mound while his lips licked my gaping mouth.

Words couldn’t form on my tongue while his fingers pumped in and out and his tip manipulated me into a mewling thing. Even though I needed to say it, to scream it, I could only sob. He crooned at me with mercy and then entered me whole, sliding his fingers away so both his hands could catch me and roll me onto my back.

My legs wrapped themselves around his waist to bring him closer against me, my body lifted from the mattress to earn more of the warmth of his beautiful skin. The room was chill yet we were engulfed by sweat as hot as tinder. We smeared it further as we ground flesh to flesh.

I was bound to him, my body unwilling to let go. Every time he fucked me I ached for more. His thick manhood stretched me open and unveiled all my mysteries and hidden desires.

I was bare to him as he was to me.

August hovered above me, lips kissing my neck and jaw lazily as he sunk himself even deeper between my folds. He grunted loudly with every thrust his body made into mine, overwhelmed by the desperation in which my cunt sucked him and the friction that was created between us.

Our genesis, a collision of darkness and light.

My claws clutched the wings of his back, fingernails digging deep as he reached the bottom of my cervix. He was buried in my depth, shaping me to fit his desire despite the pure resistance of my muscles. There was a spot uncharted to anyone but him and as his cock plunged against it, I lost all my senses.

I could feel the skin breaking beneath my talons as he rocked us back and forth with urgency, gasping loudly in my ear. I marked him, leaving bloody trails on the canvas of his back. August roared with pain and took my arms, pinning them to the sides. His fingers braided into mine while he fucked me with desperation, harder and harder with every thrust.

I was in a daze, moaning against his lips as his cock swelled against my clenching walls. I shuddered from within, sensing every inch of him as my cunt tightened even more. In one moment I was spiralling out of gravity, losing my sense of reality as the world went black and every drop of my existence was in rapture. My fingers twisted against his, my body arched to accept him, my breasts squashed against his hard chest.

One after the other my orgasms hit. I felt the pulsating heat between my legs, showered with waterfalls of joys. August continued to conquer me, deep cries breaking between his lips. He let go of my hands to cradle my face between his palms, his touch rough as he forced my gaze to him. He made me look, wanted me to see the exact moment when he fell into ecstasy.

That deep shouty groan, the wrinkles on his forehead and his watery blue eyes. It was almost as good as coming undone. His liquid wallowed hot and thick inside me before he carefully pulled out and laid at my side with his hands stroking my hair. He bumped his nose against my temple and pushed one of his legs between mine. Even after we laid heaving, glowing in our post-orgasmic haven, he couldn’t stop touching me, afraid that I would cease to love him if he did.

I couldn’t stop either.

________________________________________________________

DM me if you want to be tagged/untagged

Disclaimer: I don’t own mission impossible or August Walker

#August Walker #Henry Cavill #august walker fanfiction #Henry Cavill Fanfiction #mission impossible fallout #August Walker x OFC

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brideofcthulhu10 · 4 years

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Could you write about a girl getting harrassed by max or surfer nazis for a weeks by then and the boys taking notice help her out of a possible dangerous or taboo situation and let her join their lil coven? I know you could write something really awesome!

I goofed and forgot this was an answer to an ask haha! Okay so I'm gonna give fair warning, this is gonna get a bit graphic. I mean you wanted a traumatic taboo, and, well, wish granted!

Initiation's Over, Time to Join the Club

Poly!Lost Boys × Fem! S/O

+18 CONTENT WARNING: Sexual Themes, Sexual Assault, Potential Triggers, Violence, Gore, Offensive Language! READER'S DISCRETION IS ADVISED!

It had only been a few days since you tried to break free of the Santa Carla gang known as the Surf Nazis. Doing so proved far more difficult than you could have imagined. You couldn’t even be on the boardwalk anymore. They were everywhere, as soon as you were spotted former friends would crowd around you. They weren’t stupid enough to do anything physical, but they’d harass you to the point of running back home. There was one reason that you kept coming back.

The boys.

You started talking to them earlier this summer. Purely by accident. You had gone on your own to get a quick food run at the Kung Pao Lotus, and somehow got your order mixed up with the smallest of the group, Marko. You managed to catch him as he was leaving the restaurant and somehow that was all you needed. They took to you so quickly. Polyamory was such a foreign concept, especially when it comes to romantic relationships. But as your feelings developed over these past few months, you found yourself falling victim to each of their charms. There was just something so other worldly about the bikers. It was an unspoken mystery that only drew you in further. WHenever they had to leave for the night you’d ask them if you could join, but they all seemed particularly against the suggestion. There was always an air of discomfort, like they had something they didn’t want you to see. Regardless, Marko, Dwayne, Paul and David had swept you off your feet into the dark Santa Carla nightlife, and soon you found yourself making the choice between them, or your old gang.

But when you tried to back out of their so called “rivals”- honestly only the SN’s thought of themselves that way, things got nasty. A few of them started showing up around your neighborhood. You could see them in busted down trucks or rumbling motorcycles just strolling through your neighborhood. Your mom’s car was trashed, absolutely covered in spray paint, your garage was vandalized, trash bins were dumped out all over your yard- you were starting to get scared.

Even still you avoided bringing up the subject to the boys. You didn’t need them worrying about something like this. After all, you were a big kid, you could handle yourself. Whenever your ex-friends walked by on the boardwalk David would raise his brow when you ducked behind them, quickly covered by an excuse.

“Sorry I thought I saw a quarter on the ground,” you’d throw out, nervously standing up.

Even Paul was beginning to notice your uneasiness whenever Surf Nazi’s circled your path.

“Listen, kitten,” Paul assured, sitting on the steps beside you while you picked at your cotton candy. “If those assholes are giving you shit.. We can protect you, babes. You just say the word and I’ll rip their heads off.”

“Me too babes,” Marko would chime in, wrapping an arm over your shoulder. “All it takes is one word.”

The suggestion of mass slaughter just didn’t sit well with you and you shook your head. “No, guys don’t worry it’s just a bunch of petty pranks. They haven’t done anything that bad. I promise.”

You were so certain that in a few days they’d grow bored. After all, it had been a week and a half by now! Things couldn’t escalate more than they already were. While they weren’t your friends anymore, they still wouldn’t do anything to hurt you, right?

It was a late August afternoon, maybe an hour before sunset. Today was a record breaking heat wave, the hottest it had been today was almost one hundred and eleven degrees. It was your mom’s idea to send you to the beach instead of sulking at the house. Truthfully you were a little glad you did.

The ocean was just beautiful, cradling the slowly setting sun leaving streaks of pink and blue stained with the slowly encroaching touch of night. Stars speckled the darkest corners. Pulling out your polaroid you couldn’t resist snapping a few pictures for Marko. He loved it whenever you brought him any day time photos. They never came out before sunset, you just assumed maybe they were busy elsewhere until late afternoon. If you tried to invite them out during the day they’d each give you a disappointed response.

“Shhiiiiit, kitten,” Paul would sigh, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I mean, we would if we could,” Marko would try to assured you, holding your hands in his. Dwayne would nod along.

“Daytime just isn’t our time.”

David would tilt your chin up with a calm smile. Somehow you just knew whatever it was, he’d tell you when you were ready. “I’m sure you understand, doll. I hope you aren’t too disappointed?”

“Oh! N-No, of course not. It’s just a trip to the museum, I doubt you guys would like it anyway.”

Oh well… Instead of fretting, you tried to savor your peaceful moments,

This week had already been such a pain. It was a welcome change to just walk through the rolling shores, wading past clumps of bubbly sea foam. Closer to the caves you could spot surfacing tide pools where little sand crabs shuffled just beneath the surface. Greenish anemones shuddered at your tender touch and would retreat within themselves. If you were lucky you spotted a few whole mussel shells! You kept an old bag slung over your shoulder with a towel and a change of clothes, planning to change out of your (print/color) bikini and wrap skirt once the sun had fully gone down. Maybe then you could meet up with the boys for another night out. As you began to approach the rocky coast lines skirted across the abandoned hotel you could hear muffled snickers just barely audible above the ocean’s song.

At first you assumed them to just be maybe a group of tourists, probably drunk off their butts. When you tried to continue walking towards the hotel they grew closer. Footsteps kicked up into a pursuit. When they turned over the outstretched caves you easily recognized the greased up surfers sporting frosted tips, skunk striped hair and shredded up clothing. They continued to chase after you until you had managed to duck into a cave off the edge, but even still they followed. Now you were cornered.

“This isn’t funny anymore, Ricky,” you hissed, trying to cover yourself with your arms. “Look I left alright! I don’t wanna be a part of whatever it is you guys have going on!”

“What, can’t old friends just say hi?” You could see he brought Tank and Munk with him, both sporting grins that you knew meant nothing good. Every time they took a step forward that made you take two more back.

“Yeah right,” Munk tried to agree, shrugging. “Aren’t we friends anymore, Y/N?”

“Don’t you wanna play? We came all this way so we could hang out.” Tank circled next to Ricky. Your heart raced so loud it made your ears hurt. They were cornering you! With rapid head movements you tried to find any alternate pathway that could get you out, but all of them were too high up! Any access to the further cave systems had been smashed to pieces! Your best bet was trying to wedge yourself between the three thugs.

You had to wait. Holding out just until that golden opportunity revealed itself to you. Just as Tank moved slightly further than Munk you found a thin opening. With everything you had, you bottled forward trying to push past. Success!

Two steps in and you felt yourself torn back by your hair. The sharp sting caused you to shriek, grasping at the base of your scalp in an attempt to provide yourself any semblance of relief. Day light was grown thin. At this point you did everything to fight out of their grasp. Kick, thrash, punch! At one point you swear you caught a good chunk of Ricky’s skin under your nails. He hissed, throwing you against the drenched cave walls. The cold, damp sand beneath your feet felt solid while you tried to pry yourself up. Not this time. Munk pinned you by your arms, snickering at your terror.

“No! Stop it! Get away from me,” You cried, tyring to kick at Ricky. His fingers quickly tore your skirt off, looking down at the wet bikini still clinging to your body.

“Nooo, stop it, get away,” he mocked in a shrill tone. He forced your face up to look at him, his thumb and pointer finger squeezing your chin tightly. “You fuckin’ asked for this, walkin’ around like miss high and mighty!”

“She's just too good for the Surf Nazi’s now, eh Ricky?” Tank chuckled at the suggestion, arms crossed.

“Nah, I don’t think she’s good enough for us, that’s why little miss Y/N left,” Munk added, licking your cheek. The wet appendage dragged across your jawline to your cheek. It was enough to raise the bile in your stomach as you wrenched your face away.

“Well,” Ricky added, just as the sun went down sapping up any lingering light and leaving you in utter darkness. Your sobs echoed in the cave. There was nothing in the darkness, a pair of calloused hands grasping at your legs. When you tried to kick a swift sting crashed into your mouth. The blunt force made your ears ring, a bitter copper taste staining your mouth. Worst of all, you could feel unwelcome fingers prodding at the flesh kept beneath your bikini bottoms. “I bet you she’s good enough for one thing, don’t you think, Y/N? What’s say we give that cute little pussy of yours some play time, hm?”

There was sheer and utter panic. You continued to scream until your throat was shredded. The uncontrollable urge to vomit tempted your stomach when he tried to tease you from over the fabric. You must’ve wiggled out of someone’s grasp because you managed to lift your leg into the air sending a solid kick his way. “You fuck bitch! I’m gonna- wha-? Ahhh! What the fu- AHHHHHHH!”

There was a massive gust of air just past you that swept across. Ricky’s blood curdling screams dissolved into a hideous cacophony of squelching splatters. Munk still had a grasp on your arms, rapidly trying to search for his accomplice. “Ricky? Ricky man, what the fuck happened?! Tank where is he?”

Again another burst of air, but this time an echoing cackle followed. Low, rumbling. It delighted in their panic, or rather, he did. Whatever hidden male lurked in the shadows made quick work of another. Tank’s screams echoed through the cave. Again more sickly sounds of torn flesh followed by an eerie silence. “Tank? Tank answer me, man! What the fuck is this, what's going on?!”

Your own eyes began adjusting to the darkness. You could see a form walking your way, another higher pitched snicker eager to drag you into the same jaws of presumably horrid fates that had taken Ricky and Tank. You tightly shut your eyes, anticipating your inevitable demise.

There was no such occurrence. Finally your arms were released by Munk and his terror swept through the caves. You clung tightly to yourself in the darkness, trembling at the enclosing footsteps you could hear just over his screams.

“Looks like we made it just in time, kitten,” a voice asked clearly. You froze in place. It couldn’t be.

You still couldn’t make out much, but that heavy scent of aftershave coupled by an ancient musk, like the aged pages of a beloved book told you all you needed to know. Tears stung your eyes. It was almost impossible to breathe through it, blubbering into the arms of a familiar comfort that were already spread to grasp you.

“David! Oh god, David,” You sobbed, crashing into his torso trying to muddle the sickening stench Ricky had left on you.

“Shhh, it’s alright now,” he softly coaxed, the soothing sensation of him petting your hair putting you at ease. “It’s all over.”

You could hear the other boys approaching you, even still you couldn’t see them.

“I told you we’d protect you, kitty-cat,” a laid back tone assured you, placing a hidden hand on your shoulder. Paul.

“I think it’s becoming too dangerous for you out here.” The firm, tender voice of Dwayne spoke up. The sand beneath your body sunk to accommodate his weight. His calloused fingers brushed away loose hair you didn’t even realize was in your face. Another hopped down from… above?

But.. there were no overhead platforms, just cave ceilings caked in stalactites. What had even happened? The jingles of jewelry over leather were followed by a tender face laying atop your shoulder nestled in the crook of your neck. Curls tickled your cheek, Marko’s lips sending chills over your flesh as he spoke beside your ear.

“If you want, Y/N, you could be with us all the time. If you were one of us, we’d never let things like this happen to you.”

One… One of them?

“What-,” you tried to ask, still tightly held in David’s arms. You tried to look up, but there was only a thick blackness barely outlined by an ever darker form. “One of- of you? What… are you guys?”

Now you knew why that rolling chuckle earlier sounded so familiar. David’s chest rumbled against you as he couldn’t help but laugh. You could feel the worn leather of his gloves caress your face. His hand traced your features and cradled them tenderly in his palm.

“Would you like to find out?”

The suggestion raised your flesh, chills tricking down the base of your spine as if you were frozen in the grasp of a predator. The darkness, the way they avoided sunlight! The way… the way they came to your rescue. When you needed them most.

“Y-...,” you halted your answer. This time you really pondered it all. But even still there was a certainty to your thoughts. Your body and soul knew what they wanted. All it took was one little word.

“Yes”

Now you could see him. Well, not all of him. Just a pair of bright, luminescent white eyes wrapped in hellish spirals of red. Then there was another set. And another. Four sets of eyes all ready for you. A sharp pain surged through your neck, but you didn’t dare scream. For each set of eyes there was a following sting. Neck, shoulder, wrist, arm… and then you saw them all perfectly within the dark. The unyielding pain had brought a perfect clarity, and an unexpected stillness within your ribs. You couldn’t help but giggle, wiping away the puddles of blood smeared across David’s face. His grin spread wide, fangs still dripping with freshly drawn rubies that had stained your body red. Now it was your turn to grin, a fresh pair of fangs bared for your new dearest mates to admire in this dank, dark cave.

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justanalto · 3 years

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i was tagged by the wonderfully sweet @besidemethewholedamntime -- thank you so much!! <3 <3 <3

1. What is the color of your hairbrush?

I have a wet brush that’s bright blue, but I also have a hairbrush that’s red!

2. Name a food you never eat

uhhhh...olives, but only when they’re on their own.

3. Are you typical too warm or too cold?

I’m always too cold. always, always, always. my fingers are currently freezing and so are my toes. I think it’s because there’s a loose draft in my room here somewhere, TBH.

4. What were you doing 45 minutes ago?

roses are red // 45 minutes ago // i was writing poetry // and answering all my asks in a row

i’ve been sending people asks in poetry form and they’ve been responding, LOL -- so there’s been a lot of poetry brain going on!

5. What’s your favorite candy bar?

either a nice dark chocolate bar or a green tea kit kat bar!

6. Have you ever been to professional sports event?

I’ve been to a few professional baseball games! gotta get out there and have some mass sports pride. one of these days, my american football team will be good again and I will get those tickets.

7. What is the last thing you said out loud?

some half-hearted mumble-harmonizing to pentatonix’s be my eyes, so something along those lyrics!

8. What is your favorite ice cream?

either black raspberry (s/o to campus!!) or mint chocolate chip :)

9. What was the last thing you had to drink?

a couple of sips of water, hehe

10. Do you like your wallet?

I do! It’s the first “grown-up” wallet I feel like I’ve ever had -- I bought it from camden market last year when I was in london, and it’s a nice pine shade of green and made of cork. unfortunately, because i bought it in london, it also means that it doesn’t hold american currency quite as well, but it’s okay, i make do, LOL!

11. What is the last thing you ate?

my dad made spaghetti bolognese and I ate that with a hecking ton of bread. it was fantastic :)

12. Did you buy any new clothes last weekend?

unfortunately, no :( i can’t remember the last time I bought new clothes. maybe january? february? before the pandemic started.

13. What’s the last sporting event you watched?

I think...I know it was definitely a pats game, and I’m pretty sure we lost, so it’s somewhere along the lines of pats v. ravens, I think

14. What is your favorite flavor of popcorn?

extra buttery, even though it would probably murder me :’)

15. Who is the last person you send text message to?

@aleksandrachaev, and it was two thumbs-up emojis, LOL.

16. Ever been camping?

I have! I went a long time ago, like nine years ago long ago, I think somewhere out west? I slept on an air mattress, went to an outdoor bathroom, all that fun jazz! and the bug bites, LOL.

17. Do you take vitamins?

my mom: so you’ve got the probiotic, the vitamin c and the biotin...

18. Do you regularly attend a place of workship?

I don’t -- my dad used to go to church regularly, but other than that, I’ve never been to church and we’ve never been as a family.

19. Do you have a tan?

i don’t know how this happened but I literally still have shorts tan from like, august. it is the middle of november, someone tell me how I got here. a couple of years ago, I burnt so badly on a trip to LA I was still seeing the tan months later, LOL. and most of the time, I have some fair flip-flop tan!

20. Do you prefer chinese or pizza?

chinese, because pizza has the ability to murder me

21. Do you drink your soda through a straw?

it it’s a takeout cup, then odds are good i’m drinking it through a straw, but other than that nope :)

22. What color socks you usually wear?

white or grey, I think? i have some funky colored ones but i’m trying to change that

23. Do you ever drive above the speed limit?

i’m having flashbacks to a conversation I had with a friend who laughed at me for going five miles above the speed limit -- yes, I do, but only the allowed five miles above the speed limit and none more

24. What terrifies you?

oh, no, you don’t want to ask me that, we’d be here all day...being abandoned, I guess? being left by the people I care about, becoming too attached to people because they can leave and hurt me, spiders, heights, the pandemic, being hated, being alone...my own emotions, sometimes.

25. Look to your left, what do you see?

my tubby nugget! he smiles at me, and I feel a lil better :)

26. What chore do you hate the most?

i literally could not tell you how much I hate cleaning the grout in our bathroom tile. it is a CHORE.

27. What do you think when you hear Australian accent?

the hemsworth brothers, but also someone I met abroad who was from perth and had the same name as me, LOL

28. Whats your favorite soda?

ginger ale!

29. Do you go in a fast food place or just hit drive through?

depends on where I’m hitting, tbh -- if i’m in a hurry, we’re going straight through the drive-thru. but if it’s an event, then we’ll go in! have a fun time. sit for a while and talk.

30. What’s your favorite number?

i don’t think I have one, actually?

31. Who’s the last person you talked to?

my dad, I’m pretty sure -- we talked about pandemic unemployment assistance :)

32. Favorite meal?

sushi, or whenever my mom makes steamed chicken. (i’m realizing it’s been so long since I’ve had that chicken and now I’m sad)

33. Last song you listed to?

for real by lana condor

34. Last book you read?

confucius jane by katie lynch, just to see if the lesbians stood up to the pedestal i’d put them on -- and hell yeah, they did!

35. Favorite day of the week?

right now, thursdays, because thursday is grey’s day!

36. Can you say alphabet backwards?

probably, if you gave me enough time to think about it

37. How do you like your coffee?

like i like my men -- from afar, some of them are pretty, but do I actually like them? no

38. Favorite pair of shoes?

either my gray ankle boots I got a couple of years ago or my ‘gay lesbian snow boots’ that I use when it’s snowing something awful out, LOL!

39. Time you normally get up?

i’m supposed to be up at 8 am, but I’m usually up anywhere between 9 and 10am. I...need to change that, LOL.

40. What do you prefer, sunrise or sunset?

i love both! but I like sunset because I’ve never specifically woken up to see the sunrise, i’ve only seen it out of coincidence because I pulled an all nighter to do work

41. How many blankets on your bed?

three, at the moment -- a costco blanket, my college blanket and a five-below blanket

42. Describe your kitchen plates.

white with a floral border

43. Describe your kitchen at the moment.

it’s lived-in -- we have a side table that’s always at the risk of a collapsing, a power strip that runs a kettle, microwave and toaster oven (you can never run two of them at once otherwise the strip shuts off), kitchen mats that will never get rid of their crumbs and a healthy, healthy pantry!

44. Do you have a favorite alcoholic drink?

either pink moscato wine or a rekorderlig cider!

45. Do you play cards?

i used to a lot, when I was younger! when I got older I stopped finding people to be able to play them with, unfortunately.

46. What color is your car?

silver! (even though I share it with my sister)

47. Can you change a tire?

no, but I’d definitely like to learn :)

48. Your favorite state or province?

new york or california, honestly. probably california. it’s the place I’ve felt the most free :)

49. Favorite job you’ve had?

i’ve had a lot of internships but not a lot of jobs, but I’d probably have to say it was the one I had at dunks -- so many funny things and stories came out of it, and now I have enough barista experience to power my coffee shop fics for a lifetime!

tagging: @agentmmayy @nazezdha321 @sadtunes @a-biochemist-not-a-bird @browneyedgenius @daisylincs @aleksandrachaev @missinglittlebritishfriend @hannahxowen @genderfluid-and-confuzled and anyone else that I missed -- you’re it!! (i’m truly sorry if I forgot you, I haven’t slept a lot in the last couple of nights fhdskjfhs)

#tag things #rebecca #besidemethewholedamntime

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god-fucking-dammit-mizutani · 4 years

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Just This Once

Word Count: ~3600 Part: 1/? Summary: Taichi gets invited along on a free vacation with the Izumi family to a quaint little cabin where there promises to be great food, plenty of activity, and sun in the forecast. The catch? The whole family thinks he’s dating Koushirou.

Taichi wishes it were true.

Read below or on AO3

"This has got to be the most ridiculous thing you have ever done," Yamato decides. Even under his sunglasses, Taichi can feel the heat of his glare. It could rival the sun today, already sitting at the highest point in the sky, without a single cloud in view to obscure it.

Taichi looks away, frowning. "It's not the most," he protests. Yamato takes a long, audible sip of his iced latte. Nothing in Taichi's memories leap to his defense.

When they come to the longest patch of shade along the dirt road, Taichi feels their pace shorten to a leisurely, measured gait. Wind races past them, a wonderful reprieve from the heat. August has been brutal. Yamato reeks of several coatings of sunblock, masked ever so faintly by an overdose of cologne. Taichi's nose tickles with the repulsive combination; his iced tea tastes like chemicals just from the smell of it.

Yamato pins his bangs up against his head with the slide of his sunglasses. Somehow the dark makes his eyes all the more brighter. He kicks at a collection of pebbles on the dirt path. Taichi watches them skitter along, some rolling into the tall, uncut grass on either side of them. "When are you leaving?"

For a while Taichi doesn't answer. He can hear a mother shouting at her kid for something on the playground nearby.

"Tonight," he finally shares, tugging at his shirt in quick bursts like it's a fan. Bits of the fabric are already damp with his sweat.

Yamato stops dead in the path. A jogger who had been catching up on their tails just narrowly leans out of the way to miss bumping against him. Taichi watches her blaze down the pedestrian pathway, his muscles twitching with want to follow the same path, to enter a secret race against the other runners at the park fueled only by the desire to be faster.

Maybe it's just his instinct to run away, begging him.

It's too hot.

"I told you it was too late to back out," Taichi mutters, picking back up on their previous pace. Yamato jogs up beside him a moment later and Taichi hates that he feels kind of sorry for how strenuous that must be when the air just tastes like heat.

"Backing out," Yamato scoffs— wheezes—" is not the point. Have you no sense of self preservation?"

Taichi can't argue with that. He's been wondering the same thing himself since the moment he woke up, since the memory of his promise had solidified from some fever dream into reality.

Maybe it was heatstroke.

Taichi frowns. He knows it wasn't.

It had, after all, been Koushirou asking. With his eyes so wide on the other side of their video call, it had felt like Taichi was staring down a deer trapped in his headlights. "Just this once," he had pleaded and Taichi just couldn't say no.

Yamato kicks at another collection of pebbles sleeping in their way, his black slacks covered in a layer of dust so thick the fabric looks almost as if it were tip dyed beige. Taichi watches as the stones arc along the air, before sprinkling back to the dirt like a smattering of shooting stars. He wonders if he could make a wish on every single pebble, but he knows he'd only ask for one thing.

He almost chokes on his iced tea, not preparing for the bath of pseudo chemicals it coats his tongue in. Throwing it out after all the money he spent would only put a worse taste in his mouth and so Taichi takes another long chug.

"Pretending to date the guy you're in love with is your most boneheaded idea," Yamato doubles down. He shakes his drink, ice shuffling around the barely there liquid. When Yamato sips around his straw it sounds like he's sucking on air. Taichi takes another chug of his own drink and wishes they could switch. "And on vacation with his goddamn family."

Taichi lets out a long huff. He hates to admit Yamato's right, even if it technically wasn't his idea, so he keeps it to himself, kicking at the ground instead. All it earns him is a blanket of dust on the cuffs of his jeans.

The line between the shade and the sun is striking. Heat clings around Taichi like a toxic friend welcoming him back, and he wishes he were anywhere else.

Almost anywhere else.

"Hey," Yamato starts, knocking his shades down over his eyes in a deft swoop. Taichi mourns the sunglasses he had every intention to grab on his way out of the house this afternoon as the light of the sun burns his eyes. "At least I've got a whole week to plan your funeral."

Taichi feels the edge of his lips twitch into a sardonic half smile. "It's great to have friends you can depend on when it counts."

Yamato crosses over into him for a moment, their shoulders brushing minutely. "Don't mention it."

Taichi throws his drink out in the closest receptacle. His tongue feels heavy, like someone bathed it in sunblock.

"I won't."

Early evening does little to abate the heaviness of summer. Taichi had hoped they'd leave the mugginess behind in Odaiba, with the exhaust fumes and high rises. It's too cold with the wind of the highway whipping by them to keep the window down completely, but too warm inside the car to keep it shut. Taichi doesn't trust the air conditioner to not burn out again , and so he settles on leaving the window open just a crack.

Even with little competition from the wind and other traffic, the radio can barely be heard. Taichi only knows what's playing because the station only seems to have the license to just three songs.

He doesn't ask why they're leaving so much later than the rest of Koushirou's family. Taichi can guess that much himself; an attempt to stave off the inevitable embarrassment and barrage of intrusive questions. A breath of fresh air before the oncoming storm.

Taichi wishes it would storm, just for the night. It's so hot.

His leg bounces without his permission. "Should we set some, uh, ground rules?"

Koushirou hums, tapping his fingers on the top of the steering wheel. Taichi hoists his seat back a little bit, watching Koushirou watch the road for a while before the other repeats, "Ground rules," quietly to himself. Just a little bit behind Koushirou's ear is a deep, inset stain Taichi had forgotten about from when Mimi had drunkenly thrown a ketchup-saturated burger at his head. Taichi frowns. He can't remember why. It was probably deserved, he decides begrudgingly.

It's weird being the passenger in his own car, but Koushirou had insisted on letting him rest the majority of their ride. Taichi breathes in, tightly. It's a nice thought.

Koushirou spares him a quick look, almost as if he's alarmed to see someone else in the car. Taichi’s fingers tap the console of his own door, a small impulsive voice in his head telling him it's not too late to tuck and roll. He withdraws his hand, playing with the bridge of his seatbelt instead.

Koushirou looks back to the road. "What do you suggest?"

Though it pains him, Taichi suggests, "No kissing?" He tries not to be bothered when Koushirou readily agrees, as if the thought is burning something unpleasant into his mind.

"Anything that you find congenial," Koushirou decides a second later. "Short of kissing," he adds, "just treat me as any other partner you've had."

Taichi turns his head to look out the window instead, the suggestion somersaulting in his stomach. Outside the trees and guardrails are nothing more than blurs of color. Taichi makes a game of trying to pin them into their proper shapes until it strains his eyes and makes his head dizzy.

"What are we going to tell your parents after this week?" He asks as soon as the thought occurs to him. Taichi meets Koushirou's eyes in the rearview mirror.

"That we weren't compatible in a romantic capacity. Naturally," he adds.

"Yeah," Taichi drawls out. "Naturally."

"We'll relay that we worked best as friends." Koushirou tilts his head back just enough to offer Taichi, what he suspects, is supposed to be a reassuring smile. It doesn't work. Taichi just thinks he looks cute, trying to still be attentive to the road and him. "Lay low for a few days," he continues. "Then we proceed as if nothing has changed."

Sunset stains the sky above them, bright blues just giving way to rose-pinks and burnt-oranges. It looks like someone painting over a used canvas, and Taichi watches the colors bleed towards the horizon through the driver side window. He hates how pretty sunset looks on Koushirou, like the world created it just to softly compliment this boy.

Taichi feels it when the car starts to roll along the highway slower. "Traffic," Koushirou reports without Taichi having to ask. "Seems we still hit rush hour," he tacks on apologetically. Taichi leans up from the chair just enough to see the forest of red lights glow all at once in front of them. They're still some ways off, but Taichi knows Koushirou is prudent when it comes to literally everything, so he refrains from commenting.

He lets his head fall back down, the strain in his neck evident only now that he's resting.

Taichi catches the sun by some far off mountains. He closes one eye, reveling in how the orange-red deathball seems to shift perfectly between the hills at his whim. He tries with his other eye, then back and forth.

"I never asked," Taichi realizes when the car finally comes to a full rest. For a moment he worries that his words have been swallowed by the scream of emergency vehicles racing towards them until Koushirou hums for him to continue. "But what started all—" Taichi looks up at him for a moment, pursing his lips for the word to come to him. His leg bounces again. "You know, this ?" He gestures at the air between them. Koushirou snorts.

"Our ersatz relationship?" Taichi thinks the sentence would sound best without ersatz—whatever it means— but he makes a noise of agreeance. "My cousin obtained a partner this year."

Taichi waits. In his peripherals he catches the bright, red lights of the emergency vehicles long before the ambulance comes up beside his car. Koushirou always drives in the slow lane. Taichi doesn't think he even moves to pass other cars. More often he's just content to ride shotgun while Taichi drives.

He catches Koushirou watching the police cars as they pass, his knuckles on the steering wheel white and straining.

"It was a calamity," Koushirou recalls, eyes back on the road. His stare looks more pointed, less dutiful. It's been a while since he cut his hair, Taichi realizes. It curls around the shell of an equally reddened ear and Taichi tries not to sound pushy when he asks him to continue. "My aunt started interrogating my mother if everything was okay, if I needed help finding someone because I'm a recluse and never get out."

Taichi whistles.

"She means well," Koushirou says in defense, "but she is tenacious when she sets her mind to something."

"Right," Taichi agrees. He's got a few of those, but he's lucky enough to have a large extended family, that he and Hikaru tend to mostly fly under the radar.

Koushirou breathes in. He presses off the break briefly and the car rolls forward before jerking to another stop. Taichi watches his eyebrows knit, or twitch, like Koushirou's still in the middle of an argument with her.

"My mother knows I have the propensity to like people," Koushirou continues, his cheeks now staining a pleasantly warm red, "so I couldn't lie there."

Taichi nods along, twisting the seat belt around his hand, then again, and again, until there's no more give.

"I started getting calls," Koushirou admits. His eyes are almost as wide with terror as they had been the night before. "She was giving out my number to her friends, for any of their interested children." His face pinches. Taichi understands, a bit. If it's not one of their friends, Koushirou will rarely answer his phone, text or otherwise. "She started making all these plans to go to bars during the trip, and then she offered to—" Koushirou swallows tightly. "Telling her I was already in a relationship seemed the only way to appease her."

Taichi scrunches up his legs and straps the top end of the seat belt around his knees, let's the weight of them pull until the belt fastens around his midsection tighter. "So," Taichi starts, "you told them we were dating?"

Koushirou hums. "Not," he stops. His one hand falls to the gear shift on the console between their seats. "Not quite. I'd hoped just saying someone was enough, but then they insisted I bring my partner to the family vacation, if my cousin was bringing his and I, well, originally excogitated asking Jyou, but," Koushirou presses his lips into a thin line, "it didn't quite develop that way."

"Oh," Taichi says intelligently.

Koushirou lets out a long sigh, as if he'd been holding the breath in this whole time. Taichi looks out his own window, at the dotting of stars already freckling the sky. With everything darkened, he can vaguely see Koushirou's reflection. Taichi frowns.

"We can turn around," Koushirou says all at once, his head turning towards the rear of the car. On instinct Taichi sits up and looks behind them as well. There's already a line of cars sitting all the way down from where Taichi can see. Koushirou thumbs the button, as if he might actually put the car into reverse and drive them out of there.

"Koushirou," Taichi starts, putting his hand over the other's until he looks up, dark eyes still wide.

"We can tell everyone the highway shut down," Koushirou asserts. "Or one of us developed food poisoning—"

"Koushirou," he repeats, offering a vaguely reassuring smile. "It will be fine." Taichi sends a swift look back over his shoulder, and then a pointed one before them. Koushirou follows his eyes. Taichi squeezes his hand where they're still connected over the gear shift. He grins the best he can. "No matter what, we're going to have a fun week, okay?"

Koushirou smiles back. The night sky halos around him and Taichi thinks that, maybe, the dark compliments him better because Koushirou looks so bright and ethereal. Taichi hopes Koushirou can't feel the rabbiting of his pulse when their hands are still connected.

"Thank you," he says, quietly. Taichi only moves his hand when Koushirou shifts the car into neutral, sinking back in his seat as if a weight had been taken from his shoulders. The radio blares loudly, now that it's hitting the first commercial break. Taichi reaches over to turn it off. It's really disconcerting to him, being the passenger.

"I really mean it," Koushirou enthuses a second later. "I'm very gracious you're here."

"Yeah?" Taichi says. He hopes his grin doesn't look as dopey as it feels. "That's what—" he pauses—"ersatz boyfriends are for."

Koushirou laughs. The car in front of them moves forward just a second and Koushirou lifts his foot off the brake to follow along.

"You are perhaps the world's most superlative, ersatz boyfriend."

Taichi throws a hand emphatically over his heart. "Thank you," he says, "all of my actual relationships have been simple practice for this moment."

Koushirou snorts.

Cement eventually gives way to dirt roads, trees and boulders the only way to mark their journey. The car jitters back and forth on the uneven paths; Taichi worries they'll lose the right wheels when the vehicle jumps over a poorly laid stone. Mother nature is a terrible architect.

The driveway is rectangular, paved sloppily with pebbles. Rustic, Taichi thinks. Koushirou kills the engine as soon as he slips Taichi's Honda right between the two SUVs already lined up.

"Looks nice," Taichi comments, slipping carefully out of his side of the car, keeping the door close enough to his body so as not to scrape the black paint of the other. Over the hood of his car, Koushirou settles him with a look. Quietly he repeats, "Looks nice."

Koushirou beams at him.

They meet around the trunk, Taichi already curling his fingers under the indent above the license plate, waiting.

Taichi stares.

Koushirou stares.

"You have the keys," Taichi reminds him. He tempers his own laughter as Koushirou startles, almost dropping them from his hands. After a few seconds of him fiddling around with the key fob, the trunk opens with a light thunk . Taichi only lifts it part of the way open. He grabs for the green straps of the laptop bag first and offers it over to Koushirou. "You can go in first," he whispers as Koushirou takes his bag.

Unsteady on his feet, Koushirou tilts his head as if to question him, and Taichi smiles. He insists, "Go ahead," unable to resist ruffling Koushirou's already untamed hair. His heart twinges when Koushirou does not push away, instead leaning against the weight of Taichi's hand, midnight eyes drifting shut. He looks as if he could rest there, with only Taichi's hand to keep him steady.

"Thank you," Koushirou says, barely above a breath.

"Yeah," Taichi answers, retracting his hand. "Get some sleep, I'll bring in the rest."

He hears the drag of Koushirou's feet along the driveway, disturbing every stone on his way.

Taichi grabs for the duffel bag Koushirou had helped him fill before they left, and the recycled grocery bag he'd filled with some odd snacks he'd meant to eat on the way and his swim trunks he’d almost forgotten. He checks the trunk to make sure the keys aren't there before frowning. He’d forgotten to take them back.

He hears the lake before he sees it. Lights from distant cabins along the farther shore ripple infinitely in the dark water. Taichi breathes in and the residual smell of campfire reminds him of summer camp and barbeques and for the first time his chest swells with something other than anxiety. He takes a minute more to admire the scenery until the duffel bag on his shoulder reminds him how late it really is.

Taichi does his best to be quiet, taking every step up the porch deliberately, trying to pick up his feet— but it's the screen door he doesn't expect to betray him when it recoils back to it's post with a thunderous wham.

He stands in the front room, stock still, waiting for a hoard of angry Izumi's to come rushing in and reprimand him. Instead only Koushirou turns around the corner, standing in the open concept kitchen just in front of him. He has a finger up to his lips, as if reminding Taichi to keep quiet. Too late.

"My dad was waiting up for us. He just went to bed," Koushirou relays on a long yawn. Taichi notices he's already changed into a set of pajamas and he tries not to think how adorable he looks in them. Koushirou points somewhere past the wall and tells Taichi, "Our room's that way."

Our room sits heavy in Taichi's stomach. He hadn't really given it thought before this moment as he follows Koushirou down the longest hallway. They'd shared rooms in the past, he has to remind himself, but it feels different somehow.

His stomach somersaults again when Koushirou opens the door.

"They were being courteous giving us this room," he explains, moving his laptop bag off the single bed. "Since—"

"We're a couple," Taichi remembers. It is nice of them, he tells himself. They're being supportive. Not trying to kill him.

Koushirou smiles back at him over his shoulder, his eyes muddled with sleep. "Bathroom's across the hall," he says and Taichi understands that he's really telling him to get ready in the most polite way he can.

Taichi shrugs the duffel bag off his shoulder by the side of the door, and tosses the plastic bag next to it. He rummages through for one of his night shirts and tells Koushirou, "I'll be back."

Koushirou's already tucked into bed when he’s finally finished. Taichi turns out the light by the door. Little bits of light filter in through the barely closed curtains, and it is the only way Taichi finds his way in the dark.

"I'm sorry," Koushirou breathes out the minute the mattress dips with Taichi's weight. "For dragging you," he trails off for a long while. Taichi watches the ceiling. The fan in the corner of the room is loud. He hopes it becomes white noise. "Dragging you into this," he murmurs out of nowhere.

Taichi laughs, adjusting on the bed until his cheek touches the pillow, facing the other.

Moonlight sits lightly on Koushirou's cheeks, elongating every angle of his face. He looks otherworldly sometimes. "I'm kind of glad," Taichi says finally, huffing out the words like he's lost all of his rights to oxygen. "It's rare for you to ask for something like this." Koushirou hums, his eyes fluttering minutely. It sounds like a question so Taichi answers, "Something for yourself."

Koushirou huffs, a nonverbal protest.

Taichi laughs. "Go to sleep."

Taichi never falls asleep himself. Even with his eyes closed his heart just feels restless in his chest, his mind racing with intangible thoughts. Even with the fan humming in the background it's too hot to feel comfortable.

Taichi decides that dawn is just as lovely as sunset, when it crests over the distant treeline outside their window and sits gently on Koushirou's cheeks and wonders how Yamato's doing, if his plans for Taichi's funeral are going swimmingly.

#taishiro #taishirou #sparkle garbage #digimon #fake dating au #if there's weird spacing around the italics I promise you it is ao3s fault and im tired #anyway this is bad and I'm sorry

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sciencespies · 3 years

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How Apollo 8 Delivered Christmas Eve Peace and Understanding to the World

https://sciencespies.com/history/how-apollo-8-delivered-christmas-eve-peace-and-understanding-to-the-world/

How Apollo 8 Delivered Christmas Eve Peace and Understanding to the World

It was the final months of 1968 and throughout the year, the stability of American democracy had been called into question again and again. When Reverend Martin Luther King Jr. was assassinated in Memphis in April, civil unrest erupted throughout the United States. The “confidence of America’s allies and friends around the world” had been shaken, Leonard Marks, the United States Information Agency (USIA) director told President Lyndon B. Johnson. “We have suffered a blow from which it will take a long time to recover.”

Two months later, on the other side of the country, presidential hopeful Robert F. Kennedy was fatally shot shortly after he made his California Democratic primary victory speech. Then, in late August, violent clashes between protestors and police at the Democratic National Convention broke out in Chicago, casting more doubt on the U.S. political system. Parallels were quickly drawn between the Chicago riots and the Soviet Union’s suppression of the Prague Spring that same month. At the end of the year the USIA concluded that the Vietnam War, protests, assassinations and upheaval throughout the country led “many persons abroad to question whether the vaunted American system might be on the verge of decay and disintegration.”

Tear gas, body counts, protests and riots all appeared on television sets around the globe and in international newspapers. The House of Representatives Foreign Affairs Subcommittee observed that “the mental picture that many foreigners have of our nation is increasingly that of a violent, lawless, overbearing, even sick society.”

Operation Moonglow: A Political History of Project Apollo

Since July 1969, Neil Armstrong’s first step on the Moon has represented the pinnacle of American space exploration and a grand scientific achievement. Yet, as Smithsonian curator Teasel Muir-Harmony argues in Operation Moonglow, its primary purpose wasn’t advancing science. Rather, it was part of a political strategy to build a global coalition. Starting with President John F. Kennedy’s 1961 decision to send astronauts to the Moon to promote American “freedom” over Soviet “tyranny,” Project Apollo was central to American foreign relations.

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Read More About Apollo 8

Then, in late December, Apollo 8 offered an antidote: an image of a nation striving for grand goals, inclusive and focused on peace and unity. The crew’s broadcasts from the moon would capture the attention of a billion people worldwide. Inclusive language during the broadcasts, as well as the soon-to-be-iconic photo Earthrise, amplified the USIA and State Department messaging that the American space program was “for all mankind.” When the world felt divided—between democracy and Communism, among generations, races and genders—it would be Apollo 8 that would offer a moment of unity and a sense of connection.

From the start, Apollo 8 commander Frank Borman understood his flight and then later promotion of the space program abroad as part of his service to the country, not as a purely scientific pursuit: “If you think I would’ve devoted that much of my life simply to exploration or science, I wouldn’t have, I’m not built that way, that’s not my thing.” The cold war threatened the security of the U. S., and his role as an astronaut was part of confronting that threat, lessening Soviet influence on the geopolitical landscape.

Shortly before his launch, as Borman engrossed himself in training, his phone rang. It was Julian Scheer, NASA’s deputy administrator for public affairs.

“Look, Frank,” Borman recalled Scheer explaining. “We’ve determined that you’ll be circling the Moon on Christmas Eve and we’ve scheduled one of the television broadcasts from Apollo 8 around that time.” Scheer pointed out that more people would hear the crew’s voices than had heard any voice in history. NASA estimated that a billion people around the world would be following the flight. He then added the simple but imposing instruction: “So, we want you to say something appropriate.”

One in four people on Earth—roughly a billion people spread among 64 countries—listened to the broadcast on Christmas Eve from Apollo 8 (from left: James A. Lovell Jr., command module pilot; William A. Anders, lunar module pilot; and Frank Borman, commander).

(NASA S68-50265)

For help, Borman turned to his friend Simon Bourgin, the USIA science advisor. The two had become close during the Gemini 7 diplomatic tour of Asia. When Borman prepared for interviews, he would ask Bourgin for advice.

Bourgin suggested a simple and short broadcast. “With six television transmissions, you are overexposed . . . and with that much time you could be tempted to pad, ham it up, or try to entertain. Avoid all of these.” In other words, he explained, “Keep your audience hungry.”

For the Christmas Eve broadcast, start with a description of what you see, he suggested: “I have a feeling that any direct message that you might compose reflecting on Christmas Eve, conditions on Earth, and the way you feel about it at the moon, could get awfully sticky; it would be difficult not to sound pretentious or patronizing.” In its place, end with a quotation.

Bourgin had called his friend Joe Laitin, assistant to the director of the Bureau of the Budget, and his wife, Christine, for advice. Christine came up with the idea of reading Genesis. “Why don’t you begin at the beginning?” she asked.

The first ten verses of Genesis from the Old Testament would have “universal appeal and a sense of reverence that is called for,” agreed Bourgin. As he told Borman, “About the only thing I can think of to match the majesty of the occasion, and the evening, is to read the opening lines of Genesis.” When Borman shared the idea with crewmates James Lovell and William Anders, they also agreed. The passage, typed on fireproof paper, was inserted into the Apollo 8 flight plan.

On December 21, like much of the nation, the first thing on President Lynden B. Johnson’s agenda was to watch the early-morning launch of Apollo 8. At 7:51 a.m. EST, Borman, Lovell and Anders became the first humans to ride the huge Saturn V rocket into space, one of countless firsts that the astronauts would claim on the mission. Susan Borman, Frank’s wife, found it “awesome . . . like watching the Empire State Building taking off.” As the spacecraft glided out toward the stars, the astronauts departed the Earth and stopped experiencing sunrises and sunsets. Another first.

An entry pass to the viewing stand for the Apollo 8 launch at Kennedy Space Center, December 21, 1968, is held in the collections of the Smithsonian’s National Air and Space Museum.

(NASM)

Also in the museum’s collections is Apollo 8 astronaut William Anders’ spacesuit, engineered to provide a life-sustaining environment during unpressurized spacecraft operation.

(NASM)

Lunar module pilot William Anders wore this intra-vehicular glove during the launch of Apollo 8.

(NASM)

The Genesis scripture that the astronauts read on Christmas Eve 1968 can be found neatly typed in the pages of the Apollo 8 flight plan.

(NASM, courtesy of the Alder Planetarium and Astronomy Museum)

When Apollo 8 astronauts splashed down on December 27, 1968, they were airlifted safely aboard this rescue net to hovering Navy helicopters.

(NASM)

The image Earthrise, taken aboard Apollo 8, swiftly became a culture touchstone, appearing on this bumpersticker and elsewhere across the American landscape.

(NASM)

The mission would prove a boon for American ambassadors and other officials, who were invited by local media for interviews on the flight. “An excellent opportunity to get positive exposure through a variety of media in many countries,” the USIA advised. The agency would record the heaviest placement of its media material in memory, providing hundreds of photos, thousands of feet of TV film, and “reams of copy” to local newspaper, radio and television outlets around the world.

The Voice of America radio network provided live coverage of each stage of the mission, from launch to splashdown, in English, Chinese, Russian, Spanish, Portuguese and Arabic. American embassies in Eastern Europe assembled exhibits in their windows with pictorial explanations and a step-by-step schedule of the flight. As the crew completed stages of the mission, embassy staff would post announcements. The U.S. Embassy in Sofia, Bulgaria, reported that the window display “drew exceptionally large crowds, despite cold and snow.” In warmer climes, inhabitants of Martinique followed radio coverage of the flight so carefully that consulate personnel reported walking down the street and hearing status updates from shopkeepers and acquaintances.

Apollo 8 reached the moon three days later. The crew fired the service module engine, slowing the spacecraft down just enough to put it into orbit around another celestial body, another first. On the fourth orbit, Borman rotated the spacecraft, tilting its nose back toward Earth. Its small windows framed the Earth seemingly rising above the lunar horizon. The view caught the crew by surprise, even though mission planners had anticipated that the moment would come.

“Look at that picture over there!” Anders called out. “Here’s the Earth coming up. Wow, is that pretty!” With a Hasselblad camera in hand, Anders snapped a photo. Most of the photography scheduled for the flight focused on the moon. NASA needed detailed images of potential landing sites for future missions. As Anders watched the Earth rise above the lunar horizon, the black-and-white film magazine mounted to the camera’s boxy body would not do. Only color film could capture the contrast of the gray moon and the bright-blue Earth that Borman called “the most beautiful, heart-catching sight of my life.” Anders called out, “You got a color film, Jim? Hand me that roll of color quick, will you . . . hurry up!” After a swift swap of film magazines, Anders started snapping again.

“Look at that picture over there!” Anders called out. “Here’s the Earth coming up. Wow, is that pretty!” The image Earthrise became one of the most famous of the Space Age.

(NASA )

He caught the Earth above the gray-chalky lunar horizon, the sun illuminating parts of Africa and South America. Eddying clouds suggested an alive, dynamic planet. Earthrise, as the photograph would come to be known, amplified the beauty—and rarity—of humans’ home planet. Shortly after the crew splashed down a few days later, this photograph would grace the front page of newspapers around the world and become one of the most famous images of the Space Age.

Food packed for the crew that day was tied up in fireproof plastic green ribbons and labeled “Merry Christmas.” Inside Borman, Anders and Lovell found turkey with gravy and a fruit-cake coated with gelatin to prevent crumbs from floating into the spacecraft’s systems.

At 9:30 p.m., during the second-to-last lunar orbit of the flight, the crew began their last broadcast from the moon. Taking a cue from Bourgin, they turned the camera toward the moon and took turns describing their perspectives. Borman called the moon a “vast, lonely, forbidding-type existence, or expanse of nothing, that looks rather like clouds.” Lovell agreed, commenting that “the vast loneliness up here of the Moon is awe inspiring, and it makes you realize just what you have back there on Earth.” Anders added, “The sky up here is also rather forbidding, foreboding expanse of blackness, with no stars visible.”

“We are now approaching lunar sunrise,” Anders explained to the television and radio audiences around the world. “For all the people back on Earth, the crew of Apollo 8 have a message that we would like to send to you.” Minutes before the spacecraft slipped behind the moon for the last time, the crew took turns reading from Genesis.

youtube

“In the beginning, God created the heaven and the Earth,” Anders read.

Borman ended the passage, adding “and from the crew of Apollo 8, we close with good night, good luck, Merry Christmas, and God bless all of you—all of you on the good Earth.”

Around the world, television sets glowed with the broadcast. One in four people on Earth—roughly a billion people spread among 64 countries—listened to the reading. Within 24 hours, recorded broadcasts of the address from the moon reached people in another 30 countries. Audiences in North and South America as well as Europe tuned in live thanks to the recently launched Intelsat 3 satellite. Comsat put the satellite into operation a week ahead of schedule so that international audiences could follow the flight.

Frank Borman had at first been skeptical about the addition of heavy television equipment on missions because weight and time were at a premium. But the broadcast, and world reaction, would change his mind. “Probably [the] most important part of space,” he later reflected, “in view of [the] impact on people of the world.”

Reactions to the telecast were unprecedented, and the USIA won a significant public diplomacy victory with the carefully chosen, inclusive wording of the Christmas Eve address. A BBC correspondent commented that the reading “struck on instantly as a stroke of genius.”

In Latin America alone, 1,353 stations carried the VOA broadcast, breaking records. Even Radio Havana picked up VOA coverage, an anomaly for the official Cuban-government–run station known for transmitting programming created by the North Vietnamese, North Koreans and Russians. The station cheered the mission as “a total success.” Borman received some 100,000 letters of appreciation for the Christmas Eve broadcast from around the world, with just 34 letters making complaint.

The Apollo 8 crew had traveled farther and faster than any humans in history. They saw what no other eyes had seen: the far side of the moon, and the Earth from a great distance, blue and white and shining. They became the first humans to ride the mighty Saturn V rocket, break the bonds of Earth’s physical pull, and enter the gravitational field of another celestial body. But the mission, and the program more generally, “did much more than just advance the country scientifically and technically,” Borman, argued. “It advanced it—in my opinion—diplomatically just as much. It cast the country in a favorable light, at a time when there were many things that cast it in an unfavorable light.”

On Christmas Day, the front page of the New York Times carried an essay by the poet Archibald MacLeish inspired by the mission: “To see the earth as it truly is, small blue and beautiful in that eternal silence where it floats, is to see ourselves as riders on the earth together, brothers on that bright loveliness in the eternal cold—brothers who know now they are truly brothers.”

#History

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ikarosisflying · 4 years

Text

Elegy with an Angel at its Gate

By Larry Levis

1. Muir in the Wilderness

We were the uncountable stars, at first. We were nothing at first, and the light Of what was already over still in it.

We were never the color-blind grasses,

We were never the pattern of the snake Fading into the pattern of the leaves, Never the empty clarity one glimpses

In water falling, in water spreading itself Into the thin white veil of what is never there, The moment clear and empty as a heaven

Someone has just finished sweeping

Before the moment clouds over and again Becomes only an endless falling of water Onto stone, and falls roaring in the ears

Until they ring, and the throat suddenly Swollen with the eucharist of failure, A host invisible and present everywhere,

Or, anyway, present everywhere we are.

And one by one we vanished from the place, Vanished from it by becoming part Of everyone, part of the horses bending

Their necks to graze, part of every law, Part of each Apache heirloom for sale In a window, part of the wedding cake,

Part of the smallpox epidemic, part of God, Part of each blind crossroad, part Of the unending rain turning to snow,

Part of each straw in the lighted, Open doors of boxcars as they pass, Part of the wars, part of each silk piece

Of lingerie, part of what can never be Untangled, evaluated, cross-examined, part Of the drive by, part of the young woman

Brushing her hair, part of the lover, Part of the tenderest parting of flesh, Part of what must part flesh forever,

And part of what holds it together, Part of each one watching, with an open Mouth, the movie at the drive-in, part

Of the slaughterhouse with its fly-covered Windows, part of the scent of linen, part Of what holds the limbs of the oldest trees

Up and out through summer after summer, Part of the fork in the road where we took Both directions at once to disappear in them,

Into the noise that cuts us in half, part Of the noise, part of what doesn’t come back,

Indifferent dog, indifferent horse, indifferent

Fly riding its back beneath the trees, Led by the indifferent stable boy who hates The girl who rides the horse because she’s

Rich, because he reads Marx by candlelight, Is in love with her, is leaving tomorrow To harvest sugarcane in Cuba, is a part

Of a part of a vast revolution, of an age Of revolutions that will free him, free us, Free everyone, put all of us to one side,

To be part of another, larger thing that ends By becoming a movie about it, the popcorn, The audience sitting there watching it

With their mouths open, the big screen there In front of them, each one a part of it Designed to stroll languidly out

Into the hot, impossible evening in the city, Where the signs that flash on and off above The stores, reflected in windows and off the cars,

Resemble the piping on the ushers’ uniforms.

2. Bunny Mayo in the New World

We brought the shape of the angel with us In the shapes of women and in the shapes Of ships because we trusted only what we

Could feel by hand, beneath us and above us. And sure some among us had seen angels, In the blacksmith’s empty fire in the street

With no one there. And sure someone felt an angel In the shape of the mad daisy the hammer In his hand became before he was emancipated

From his troubles and his flesh was left hanging From limbs of trees and little gateposts In the rain—as a lesson to us all—

The kind of thing the British made us memorize, Generation after generation after generation Until it was knowledge not worth knowing.

Larry Doyle touched an angel once, he said, In the woods, and said its back was thick, Thick and fat and flat. And look at what

Happened to your Larry Doyle at the end, Gone to hell in an Easter Basket with Your permission, Mrs. Munna Mayo.

We was just two tents of flesh over bones. Still, it was a surprise how easy it was To leave the place on a warm spring afternoon,

And clatter over these long planks into The ship with its hull shaped like famine itself, Angel and woman and famine taking the same shape

And crowding one another in and out of it. To follow the path those shapes kept Disappearing on, I knew where that led,

I’d seen asylums grazing the sides of hills. More of ‘em around the City every day. You see an angel in a bar in North Beach Love

You keep your cake hole shut about it. Remember, a lie here and there is a veniality, Forgettable and necessary as sin unless

You’ve become overattached to your state Of unemployment and think there’s a sandwich Under every pillow; otherwise, where it says

Experience on the application, you’re better off Letting your imagination fill in the blank. But seeing things is another matter altogether.

Here in the Sunset it is. It’s not allowed.

3. Stevens

This was one idea, like water seen through glass, Then like a water seen through completely, Seen through and regretted and longed for

In a downpour in Hartford where he sat, Piano and attorney of the soul, turning Angels into air, the air into a mirror

Reflecting everything and the nothing In everything, so that when he dozes off In the chair, the manicurist bent over

His nails, filing them, the sound of the file Is the sound he made as a boy, running Over the dry beach grass on a winter day,

One step ahead of the quiet, one step ahead Of what is overtaking him, the background chorus Of semis on the interstate, and their new god,

Shirtless and asleep in the trailer parks, The treeless slums on the outskirts of the slums With trees in them, trees the past stuck there?

But he’s just a man asleep. He could easily be The pages of the newspaper spreading around him In the yard, he could easily have been

No more than the illiterate light of a warm Afternoon in winter shining at that moment In which I suspended all my judgments

Of this place, because they were not mine. But have it your way, for there wasn’t any us, There was only the empty light and a path

Running beneath the trees with no one on it, No sound of a keel scraping the sand of some New World, no coinage of what’s sexual.

The new god is a revolver in the sun.

4. Like the Scattered Beads of a Dime Store Rosary

One August afternoon, in the midst of lying To my counselor to get things over with, The counselor appointed by the court,

A nice enough young guy with a cold, Too many cases, and stains on his shirt, I thought of him, of how the whole point

Was not to be trapped by circumstances, Not to spend a night in a jail in a Day-Glo Orange jumpsuit, and then walk home past

Houses flaking into paint, into the pieces Of some puzzle the children have abandoned, Each lighted porch a history of desolation.

The point is to live beyond all jurisdiction, To be the uncountable stars again, the shape Of the animal running through tall grasses.

It is too late for either of us now. Angel in the gate, walk with me sometimes,

Or whatever it is you do, air stepping Or gliding through air, as far as you want, As far as eternity is, in our poor neighborhood,

With the toys spreading over the lawns behind you, And the children gone, and the sills they leaned Out of, once . . . thin, dry, freckled as leaves,

And framed by a house that is too delicate now, Too brittle to withstand the lightest touch, Or any mere kingdom’s nowhere breath,

With the light coming back to one star In the late summer dusk after another Until at last the sky above it resembles

The vast rigging of some lighted ship Drifting slowly out of reach. Come with me, Stray a little from your task, which is set

In stone, where you must stare out, stupidly Pretentious, with your frown and Roman hairstyle, And with ears that might double as handles;

Walk with me a little, just for company, As far as your owner allows, or as far as you Want, in our poor neighborhood; be the air

Cutting through an empty world of air, Be the cold air of an angel, older, thinner Than fire, like something almost remembered

From a childhood swept clean by fire, Spreading its wise chill over my flesh Until my flesh is my own and not my own;

For a moment, and then for one more moment, Let me belong to another; let me step From the snare, the lie, the trap

That would have me believe only the empty scrape Of a man’s steps as he walks home, As he begins to hear that sound and no other,

Begins to hear, in the ancient trees he passes, Only the echoing of his steps; If only for the company, walk with me a little

Through the litter and catcalls of this place. With the wrong, other angel trapped in stone, With the heaven behind you on fire,

So that I might recognize my own voice When no one speaks, so that I might know Who touches me in that realm where fingers

Are extinct and no one’s there, the place This one with its trees once whispered of, Once granted us, gave us a path to

That ran under the trees and the infinite Whispering of what we really desired, The dry, white path empty under the leaves

As we turned from it, and walked back To the ship with the silly carving of the body On its bow, and lost the place—

Lost it forever in a matter of a few seconds— So that its melody might run through my limbs, And loosen them, a lovely dust,

And sunlight through the windows of other lovers— As yet unborn, their faces pressed against The windows of the cells in the rush of the blood

Like faces pressed against the windows of a train—

Walk a few steps more with me,

Show me the house I must still be living in, Where eternity was no more than my hand Scurrying across a sheet of paper,

Kindling blent to the music of its hush; Walk with me a little way past it, now, With the wrong, other angel trapped in stone,

With the heavens behind you on fire.

#larry levis #poetry

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shattbigbang · 5 years

Text

Shatt Big Bang 2019 Master Post

Almost all works have now been posted so we’ve put together this handy-dandy master post for your convenience.

Thank you to everyone that participated in this bang. We really appreciate you sticking with it and we know it was a lot of work. Please know that your work was not in vain because everything posted was absolutely fantastic.

Please don’t hesitate to check out any fics/art you haven’t yet had a chance to look at!

Thank you again from the bottom of our Shatt-loving hearts. <3

@brittysauce and @pastellipastels

Fic: Teachings of the Heart

ART

Rating: G

Summary: Altea High is the home of the lions, famous for being a startup school taking over the boards. For more than a decade the school went under the radar, in every aspect. Funding, academia, extracurricular achievements, student accomplishments. They were all outmatched by the number one school in the state, Galra High. After Allura took over as Principal, her and her friends take the school and flip it upside down, so now they reign supreme among the districts.

These five people have left their high school years behind them five-fold at the least, but now a new High School challenge begins.

Shiro and Matt, high school friends, teachers and hardcore crushers on each other. Both too oblivious and self conscious to make the first move, so their friends and family have decided to finally step in on their behalf. It’s up to them to get these two starry eyed men to stop being so dense towards each other once and for all. However, that is not to say that Shiro and Matt exactly make things easier in any way, because they don’t.

They make it harder and more annoying and painful than stepping on a lego.

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@spazzcat and @luddlestons

Fic: Dragon Love

ART

Rating: T

Summary: Shiro never expected to be assigned to guard the crown prince on his annual inspection tour of the kingdom. And he definitely did not expect the prince to drag him up into the mountains, territory of the feared and deadly dragons. But as it turns out, Prince Matthew has a lot to teach him about dragons--and about his own heart.

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Not submitted.

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@luddlestons and @coogarajasmine and @leolikesromance

Fic: Found: Lost Dog

ART and ART

Rating: T

Summary: Extremely fluffy, approximately four pounds, will eat all of your cheese and none of your dog treats.On second thought, may be a human in a dog's body.Matt is a werewolf, an extremely ferocious beast who just happens to look exactly like a Pomeranian. Running away from Sendak's pack has left him injured and weakened, and he's unable to turn back into a human, which leaves him vulnerable to being unwittingly adopted by a handsome man who finds Matt hiding underneath his car.

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@silverineontherun and @dailycolleenholt

Fic: Because Summer Will Come

ART

Rating: T

Summary: Matthew Holt is a young and enthusiastic editor for Altea Publishing House, a renowned editorial company. After working on a few successful novels, Matt is more than ready for his newest challenge: when Coran is promoted to editor-in-chief, he entrusts him with his favorite writer, T.K. Kuron. Being a fan of his work, Matt is delighted to finally meet the idol he imagines as an old, kind gentleman… but Mr. Kuron, A.K.A. Takashi Shirogane, is not what he expected at all, and his wish to make him write a bestseller at any cost could be the biggest challenge of his career... and also his personal life.

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@velocitytimes2 and @seaglass-sunsets

Fic: To Reach the Top

ART - not submitted

Rating: T

Summary: Takashi Shirogane liked keeping the two most important facets of his life perfectly separate. At school he was senior varsity football captain and star quarterback. Football had been his dad’s dream for him, especially when Shiro ended up going to the same high school as his father. After school, he’d get in his hand-me-down Honda and drive forty five minutes, don a bright teal and white t-shirt and blindingly white shoes and become someone who would be unrecognizable to anyone who knew him at school. He’d become cheerleader Shiro, the Shiro who could do a layout-stepout-double and toss a flyer twenty feet into the air. It wasn’t that he was ashamed of that part of his life, just that he knew his teammates would use it as a way to undermine his football accomplishments, even though he left cheer even more tired than a football game.

So, he kept the two sides of himself completely separate from one another, kept his two things in their own corners. It worked, and he was happy. Until Matt Holt shows up and threatens to tear down the carefully crafted separation between high school and all star cheer, that is.

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@lureavi and @matesparkles

Fic: Heat of the Moment

ART

Rating: T

Summary: Shiro is a professional firefighter, back in the line of duty after an accident in his previous town left him with more than his fair share of physical and mental scars. Matt is a chemistry professor, who aims to take playing with fire to a new level. They can’t help but take an interest in one another.

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@shiroganetakashi and Kopescetic

Fic: Kiss Me Under the Moonlight

ART

Rating: T

Summary: Matt Holt has been quietly in love with his best friend for as long as he can remember, and had to watch as he fell in love with someone else. He can deal with that. Shiro’s happiness is most important, after all.

When they’re both selected for the Kerberos Mission, it’s a dream come true. Then Adam leaves Shiro, and it’s like that dream has fractured. Matt’s there for his friend – he always will be – but six months in space with broken hearts leads to a lot of spilling emotions.

It’s there, in the void of the cosmos, that Matt discovers his feelings may not be as unrequited as he’d thought.

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T12

@black-paladin-babes and @allarica

Fic: The Dancing King, Only Seventeen Million Miles Away

ART and ART

Rating: T

Summary: Heavy Metal.Singing in front of crowds of thousands.The bass thundering in his eardrums.It made adrenaline course and pump through Matt Holt’s veins.It made his heart race in his chest.He loved doing this.The stage raised itself as Matt readied himself in front of the microphone.He could hear the fans chanting their name just above them, sounding loud enough to come from all around them.It was their time to shine.Their hour to sing.

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@eilera-chan and @skydarko

Fic: Make A Little Magic

ART

Rating: M

Summary: “Oh, but where are my manners? I haven't introduced myself, gentlemen. My name is Matt Holt, and I'm a Circle mage for her Majesty Queen Allura Altea, Second of Her Name, Lady of the Sea, Breaker of Stuff, Mother of All, and a bunch of other titles I'm too tired to think of right now. It's my job to keep the peace and you,” he paused, looking them over. “you are not being very peaceful.”

(In which Matt is a mage of considerable power working for the Queen and Shiro is his partner, a werewolf stuck in his wolf form with no memories of his past.)

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@giraffvinu and @hydraxx

Fic: Blooming Into You (Or Under You, Maybe Over You, It’s All Good)

ART

Rating: M

Summary: A story of how Matt and Shiro finally get together after losing each other multiple times during the years they spent in space.

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@velocitytimes2 and @esshieru

Fic: Hidden Scars

ART

Rating: M

Summary:Matthew Holt’s intention had never been to be placed within the hard confines of a mental ward. His intention had been to, well, die.

Takashi Shirogane didn’t have any intentions. If he had any prior to the crash, he didn’t remember them. Neither boy had planned to spend the beginnings of their respective senior years admitted into the bright white and teal hallways of the “esteemed and recommend Altean Rehabilitation Center.”

After a horrific car crash coming home from his last summer vacation with his family, Shiro is left without them, a home, and only two friends. He has memories of none of them.

Matt has had demons living inside the confines of his mind for as long as he can remember conscious thoughts. A particularly bad spell has him on a bathroom floor with a stomach that needed pumping and gashes that needed stitching.

Both incidents lead to Altea in August, right as the leaves start their slow change over and a new season begins with the promise of healing. But sometimes healing isn’t a straight-lined process. Sometimes you need a hand to guide you, or maybe just one to clutch onto. To know you’re not alone.

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@professionalmess and @kuuskidi

Fic: he loves me, he loves me not

ART - not submitted

Rating: M

Summary: "Ever since he was a little kid, he wanted to explore the ocean. Since his family had lived close to the beach and went as often as they could, the ocean had been one of the first things to capture Matt’s attention and one of the only things to hold it. He was fascinated with the possibilities, amazed by all the things humans didn’t know, enraptured by all the secrets just waiting to be discovered. He wanted to be someone who made a discovery, a person that came to the surface with a breakthrough, and he’d been waiting his entire life for the chance to do it.

And now, a fresh college graduate with a shiny diploma that dubbed him an official marine biologist among other things Matt didn’t find himself rushing into the field."

--aka a soulmate au where everyone has a tattoo of their soulmate's favorite thing and some kind of way the universe leads them to each other

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@chestnutpatronus and @skydarko

Fic: Demons need saving too: this time, it's personal

ART

Rating: M

Summary: The Holt family has run the bar for years, unlike other places, the bar welcomes creatures of all sorts, demons, monsters, beyond your wildest imagination. Shiro has been a frequent patron of the bar, a sort of warden for the region that helps defend the humans in it from the creatures who step a bit too far out of line. When Pidge, Matt’s younger sibling, is kidnapped as a way to force the Holt family to turn over those patrons who are of the demonic sort, Shiro volunteers to help, bringing him closer to Matt than ever before.

#voltron #vld #shatt #shiro #matt #shatt big bang #sbb2019 #master post

47 notes · View notes

erinelezabeth920 · 4 years

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Love in the Time Of

Nostalgia. Do you remember the last trip you went on? Maybe it was a road trip, or a flight above patchwork plains? Or maybe a visit to family, the old and familiar grating with the growth of life? Do you remember that feeling of just... moving? The passing trees, the stirring as the landscape shuffles and re-arranges itself into your own soul puzzle. It’s a wanderlust- inherent, vital and deep. I remember wind on the mountains- Wyoming maybe or wildflowers in a spring breeze in Colorado. I remember a trumpet in New Orleans in the rain, walking the streets in a whisky daze, taking in melodies that wedged their way into my body like the droplets that fell from the sky. Last night I drank rose and watched an episode of Ken Burns’ documentary on country music. They were at the beginnings, origins until 1930s or so. The sound of the banjo, harmonica, fiddle, mandolin all merging from different areas of the word- the banjo out of Africa and the Caribbean into the horrors of slavery, used to uplift out of a deep and lasting persecution until even the whispered legacy was taken and mangled for white gain. The mandolin from Italy and continental Europe, and the fiddle from the English ballads, Scottish Highlands all merging for something completely new. As I watched, and the melodies faded in and out, I remembered nights in the mountains trying to strum my little guitar under a desert moon. I remembered Indiana, driving through rain listening to bluegrass. I remembered stories my mother and aunts told me of my grandfather, who died when I was in high school. He used to sit on the porch through summer nights and strum his guitar, singing all the old country ballads out of the hills and radio of the 1930s, occasionally throwing in a yodel to the fireflies dotting the upstate New York corn fields. Add that to the Irish and Scottish heritage that runs through my veins, and I’m drawn to the fiddle and picking like a moth to light. I had been listening to an episode of ‘Dolly Parton’s America’ while I cooked dinner; pasta and vegetables while the rain pounded outside. From my headphones, Jad Abumrad had been describing Dolly’s ‘Tennessee Mountain Home’ and the essence of nostalgia in country music. A longing for simpler times. ‘Country music,’ he had said as I strained the pasta into the sink, “is immigrant music.” He went into it a bit. Country music, at its core, is about a longing for something that is gone. A home that once was. A front porch. The sound of a river, or the whistle of a train to unknown places. A sense of home that can’t even be expressed except through a melody that you somehow feel you’ve known your whole life. Once the podcast ended, I sat with my glass of wine out of a can and pasta in front of the TV. Andy was hosting a DnD sesion in the bedroom. I scrolled until I found the PBS episode. I drank my wine and slurped pasta as we went deep into black and white photos and voiced-over stories as Ken Burns does. The origins of those old folk songs we know well, (think “O Brother Where Art Thou” soundtrack), one song taken from the other until they’re blended into our conscious and unconscious history. “Music,” Jad had said, “is the soundtrack to our lives. Wherever we go, its with us. And that’s how we mixed.” Jimmie Rodgers circa 1929 travelled around “catching songs.” He’d drive sometimes 90 miles into the hills to listen to someone singing in their kitchen, gather it up in a flutter of shifting memories and dust, and put it down to record. When “Mule Skinner Blues’ began playing over some old photos, I yelped, “Holy crap that’s Dolly’s song!” I knew it was an old folk tune, but I didn’t realize it was Jimmie Rodgers, the OG of country according to most. Dolly took the original lick and turned up the volume to 10. “That song,” Jad had said at one point, “is fire.” Twenty or so minutes later, as the episode credits rolled, lo and behold Dolly’s version began playing. I let the credits roll until finished. Then I turned off the TV and sank into the couch. Silence.

“Okay Google,” I called to the kitchen, “...play ‘Mule Skinner Blues’ by Dolly Parton.”

Jad’s right. That song is fire.

When it finished, too lazy to bother, the Spotify algorithm marched on with the next song. It was Dolly’s voice, but she was singing ‘The Story.’ “Isn’t this Brandi’s song?” Andy asked from the computer where he was now playing video games.

“I think so?” I googled it. Brandi Carlisle, 2007. Dolly Parton cover. “Damn,” I said, “Dolly’s covering Brandi? That’s epic.” “Okay Google, play ‘The Story’ by Brandi Carlisle.” Dolly’s version was fine, but Brandi is the new queen. I laid on the couch and listened. As her gritty, smooth voice washed over me, I remembered Chattanooga, Tennessee in early September. I remembered sitting in a lawn of a big park, festival lights strung through the heavy leaves, a wide river, humid skies, a big moon. The day had been sweltering, but by the time Brandi came out for her headliner it had cooled to an ease. The grass was full of people, standing, sitting, or somewhere in between. The air dripped and hummed and turned indigo as she sang her first note. Google then moved on to Joni Mitchell. Good job algorithm, because I happened to remember that Tennessee night in September, Brandi telling us that Joni was her idol. She was going to have a chance in a month or so to play the album ‘Blue’ all the way through for Joni herself. ‘I’m going to royally fuck up,” she told us. “I need to practice on you.” So she did. I closed my eyes. The moon reflected in scintillations on the river. I thought she sounded like warm honey. I went to get up, to turn off the music and go to bed. It was late and I had to work in the morning. As I walked over toward the kitchen the little white screen on the counter tucked behind the coffee maker, as if in a small act of defiance, struck up some solemn piano chords. The beginning of ‘I And Love And You’ by the Avett Brothers. I sighed softly, cursed the Spotify algorithm for being too damn good, and slowly walked back to the couch. I laid down and closed my eyes.

Immediately I saw in my mind the wide Columbia River at sunset, the sweeping rocks and plains of Eastern Washington. The music filled the gorge like a bowl, rising up as if from the river itself. I’ve seen the Avett Brothers twice live, both times at the Gorge Amphitheater sitting next to friends as the sky lit on fire. The clouds turned orange to dark blue, and the lights of the stage looked like heaven twinkling. I could feel the blanket beneath me, the cold grass, the gentle swaying of the bodies of my friends beside me. “Brooklyn, Brooklyn take me in... are you aware the shape I’m in. My hands they shake my head it spins. Brooklyn, Brooklyn take me in.” The mighty Columbia flowed dark and wide in the space beyond.

(The Gorge, August 2019) Back in the apartment, eyes still closed as the notes lingered, trying to hold on to the wisps of memories, Google moved on to “The Joke”. Back to Brandi. If you know that song, I don’t need to explain. The music swelled. She basically shattered her emotions through the ceiling in a soaring arc of notes. I thought of her, young and unknown busking at Pike Place, the folk ringing through her voice surrounded by the grunge of the 90s in back bars and alleys. You can hear it in her songs, the moody gray sky, ocean and deep misty mountains, chunky guitar and angst. They try to put us in boxes, slap on labels but the joke’s on them. It’s ‘the rub’, as Ken Burns called it. Seattle and folk, Tennessee and jazz. Slavery and persecution, reconstruction and high rises. The rub of people and place, the mixing and sighing of ideas like notes mingling in the night air. “Imagine a ship,” says Jad. “Nineteenth century, whaling ship maybe in the Indian Ocean. Full of people from different cultures, places. What did they have with them? Likely instruments. And a lot of free time.” Do you remember the last trip you took? The sounds, the sights, the smells passing you by like dandelion seeds drifting in the wind. They latch onto your coarse sweaters, stick to your old shoes. Maybe they’re discarded, or they take root, slowly growing into something more. You know that scene at the end of Lord of the Rings, where Sam and Frodo are on the side of Mt. Doom and Frodo says, “No Sam, I can’t recall The Shire, nor the taste of strawberries?” Sometimos, especially recently, I feel like that. I know it’s dramatic, but it’s also true. The hug of a friend, a seething mass of bodies at a concert, the electricity of a new city, or moonlight floating on a river as Joni Mitchell is practiced to the Tennessee sky. It’s the rub, brushing up against life, re-inventing ourselves over and over, growing like the dandelion into our veins, a little newer each time. I miss it. I told Google to turn off the music. The rain outside had stopped. I got up off the couch. Andy sat at the computer, headphones on. I brushed my teeth and went to bed, the silence of the apartment heavy as a blanket. And somewhere in the space between sleep and dreams, a fiddle flickered a tune, fading into the ether like moonlight falling on the dark water below.

#country music #live music #quarantine #creative writing #mental health #seattle #music #travel

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astrogeoguy · 5 years

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The Bright Corn Moon Prunes Perseid Meteors, but Saturn Shines while Jupiter Dances and Sports Spots!

(Above: An amazing image of multiple Perseid meteors, the International Space Station, plus aurora on the northern horizon taken by Bill Longo of Toronto in 2015. http://billlongo.com/)

Hello, Summer Stargazers!

Here are your Astronomy Skylights for the week of August 11th, 2019 by Chris Vaughan. Feel free to pass this along to your friends and send me your comments, questions, and suggested topics. I repost these emails with photos at http://astrogeoguy.tumblr.com/ where all the old editions are archived. You can also follow me on Twitter as @astrogeoguy! Unless otherwise noted, all times are Eastern Time. Please click this MailChimp link to subscribe to these emails.

I can bring my Digital Starlab inflatable planetarium to your school or other daytime or evening event. Contact me, and we’ll tour the Universe together!

The Perseids Meteor Shower Peaks!

The prolific Perseids Meteor Shower peaks from Tuesday night until Wednesday morning before dawn. Within a couple of nights before and after the peak date, the quantity of meteors will be reduced somewhat, but still well worth looking up for. Unfortunately, the moon will be extremely full and bright during the peak this year, so the dimmer meteors will be hidden by the moon-lit sky. Thankfully, Perseids are often very long and bright!

(Above: This brief animated clip of the Perseids Meteor shower was produced by Till Credner. NASA APOD for Sept 8, 2018)

Meteor showers are annual events that occur when the Earth’s orbit passes through zones of debris left by multiple passes of periodic comets. (The analogy would be the material tossed out of a dump truck as it rattles along. The roadway gets pretty dirty if the truck drives the route a number of times!) Over centuries, or longer, the dust-sized and sand-sized (or larger) particles accumulate and spread out a bit. When the Earth encounters them, the particles are caught by our gravity and burn up as they fall through our atmosphere at speeds on the order of 200,000 km/hr. The grains moving that fast through the air generate heat that ionizes the air – producing the long glowing trails we see. The duration of a meteor shower depends on the width of the zone, and the intensity depends on whether we pass through the densest portion, or merely skirt the edges.

The nickname for meteors is “shooting stars” or “falling stars”, but they bear no physical connection to the distant stars, and all your favourite constellations will look the same as ever at the end of the shower!

The source of the Perseids material is thought to be 133-year-period Comet 109P/Swift-Tuttle. The active period for this shower is July 13 through August 26, so keep an eye out for them beyond this week. This shower is known for producing 60-80 meteors per hour at the peak - many manifesting as bright, sputtering fireballs!

While visible anywhere in the night sky, meteors will appear to radiate from a location in the sky (called the radiant) between the constellations of Camelopardalis (the Giraffe) and Perseus (the Hero), which gives this shower its name. The radiant is low in the northeastern sky during mid-August evenings – and nearly overhead by dawn. Meteor showers are best observed in the dark skies before dawn, because that’s the time when the sky overhead is plowing directly into the oncoming debris field, like bugs splatting on a moving car's windshield. When the radiant constellation is overhead, the entire sky down to the horizon is available for meteors.

The highest Perseid meteor rates this year are expected to occur on from Tuesday night into Wednesday morning August 12-13, when the Earth will be closest to the orbit of comet 109P/Swift-Tuttle and densest part of its debris trail. If you begin to watch after dark on Tuesday evening, you might catch very long meteors that are skimming the Earth’s upper atmosphere. These are fewer, but spectacular. As the night rolls on, the radiant of the meteors will rise higher in the sky, revealing more meteors because they are no longer hidden by the bulk of Earth. The absolute best time to view is around 4 am local time when the radiant will be almost overhead.

(Above: The radiant for the annual Perseids Meteor Shower is in northern Perseus, shown here at 1 am local time this week. But don’t watch for meteors there - any appearing in that area will be the shortest because they are heading directly towards you!)

For best results, try to find a safe viewing location with as much open sky as possible. If you can hide the moon behind a building or tree, that will help. You can start watching as soon as it is dark - to catch very long meteors produced by particles skimming the Earth’s upper atmosphere. These are rarer, but leave very long streaks. Don’t worry about watching the radiant. Meteors from that position will be heading directly towards you and have very short trails.

Bring a blanket for warmth and a chaise to avoid neck strain, plus snacks and drinks. Try to keep watching the sky even when chatting with friends or family – they’ll understand. Call out when you see one; a bit of friendly competition is fun!

Don’t look at your phone or tablet – the bright screen will spoil your dark adaptation. If you can, minimize the brightness or cover the screen with red film. Disabling app notifications will reduce the chances of unexpected bright light, too. And remember that binoculars and telescopes will not help you see meteors because they have fields of view that are too narrow. I’ll post some diagrams here. Good hunting!

The Moon and Planets

This week, the moon will reach its full phase and illuminate the night sky worldwide – to the disappointment of Perseid Meteor Shower viewers. Then the moon will commence its two-week swing back towards the sun. In the meantime, the moon will visit Saturn, and Jupiter will sport spots on Monday and Saturday. Here are your Skylights for this week!

In the southeastern sky after dusk tonight (Sunday), look for the waxing gibbous moon positioned just four finger widths to the right (celestial west) of the bright, yellowish planet Saturn. The pretty duo will cross the sky together for most of the night and will easily appear together within the field of binoculars. If you watch the pair over several hours, starting at dusk, you will see the moon’s orbit carry it closer to the planet while the rotation of the sky lifts Saturn higher than the moon. Observers in eastern Indonesia, most of Australia, northern New Zealand, Melanesia, and Polynesia (except Hawaii) will see the moon occult Saturn on August 12.

(Above: As shown here at 9:30 pm local time, on sunday evening, August 11, the waxing gibbous moon will sit above the Teapot-shaped constellation of Sagittarius, and close to yellowish Saturn. Very bright Jupiter will be about three fist diameters to their right. Note where Saturn is so you can find it again after the moon hops away.)

The August full moon, known as the “Sturgeon Moon”, “Red Moon”, “Green Corn Moon”, and “Grain Moon”, always shines among or near the stars of Aquarius (the Water-Bearer) or Capricornus (the Sea-Goat). Full moons always rise at sunset and set at sunrise. Since this full moon phase will occur in the morning daylight hours of Thursday, the moon will appear to be full on both Wednesday and Thursday evening in the Americas. When full, sunlight is hitting the moon vertically and casting no shadows. All of the variations in brightness we see are generated by differences in the reflectivity, or albedo, of the lunar surface rocks.

On nights around the full moon phase, bright ray features may be seen radiating from the younger craters on the lunar near side. A particularly interesting example of this is the ray system for the crater Proclus. The 28 km wide crater and its ray system are visible in binoculars. They are located at the lower left edge of Mare Crisium, the round, grey basin near the moon’s upper right edge (northeast on the moon). The Proclus rays, about 600 km in length, only appear on the eastern, right-hand side of the crater, and within Mare Crisium, suggesting that the impactor that made them arrived at a shallow angle from the southwest. (Note that east and west are reversed on the moon).

The still-very-bright moon will end the week below the stars of western Pisces (the Fishes), but it won’t rise until late evening and then linger into the morning daytime sky.

Aside from the moon, Jupiter will be the brightest object in the night-time sky this week. As the sky begins to darken, look for the giant planet sitting less than halfway up the southwestern sky. As the evening passes, Jupiter will sink lower, setting in the west just before 1:30 am local time. On Sunday, August 11, Jupiter will end a westerly retrograde loop that began in April, and resume its regular eastward motion with respect to the stars of southern Ophiuchus (the Serpent-Bearer).

The difference in orbital speed between a given planet and Earth generates these predictable, temporary reversals in motion that astronomers call retrograde loops. During Jupiter’s retrograde period, Earth was passing Jupiter “on the inside track” of the Solar System’s “racetrack” around the sun. The stars, which are far beyond the planets, are fixed in place, allowing us to see the planets move among them. The word planet comes from a Greek word for “wanderer”. Take note of Jupiter’s position with respect to the bright, reddish star Antares, which is sitting about a palm’s width to Jupiter’s lower right this summer. If you check back every week or two, Jupiter’s orbital motion will be apparent.

On a typical night, even a backyard telescope will show you Jupiter’s two main equatorial stripes and its four Galilean moons - Io, Europa, Callisto, and Ganymede looking like small white dots arranged in a rough line flanking the planet. If you see fewer than four dots, then some of them are in front of Jupiter, or hidden behind it. Good binoculars will show the moons, too!

From time to time, the small, round, black shadows cast onto Jupiter’s surface by those four Galilean moons become visible in amateur telescopes as they cross (or transit) Jupiter’s disk. On Monday evening from 9:07 to 11:20 pm EDT, observers in the Americas can watch Io’s small shadow transit Jupiter. On Saturday evening from 8:53 to 11:25 pm EDT, observers in the Americas can watch Europa’s shadow transit the northern hemisphere of Jupiter.

(Above: On Monday evening between 9:07 and 11:20 pm EDT, Io’s small, black shadow will cross the disk of Jupiter as shown here at 9:30 pm EDT.)

Due to Jupiter’s rapid 10-hour rotation period, the Great Red Spot (or GRS) is only observable from Earth every 2nd or 3rd night, and only during a predictable three-hour window. The GRS will be easiest to see using a medium-sized, or larger, aperture telescope on an evening of good seeing (steady air). If you’d like to see the Great Red Spot in your telescope, it will be crossing the planet tonight (Sunday evening) from 9:30 pm to 12:30 am EDT, on Tuesday night after 11:30 pm EDT, after dusk on Wednesday and Friday, and after 10:30 pm EDT next Sunday.

Yellow-tinted Saturn is prominent this summer, too - but its less bright than Jupiter. The ringed planet will be visible from dusk until about 3:30 am local time. Saturn’s position in the sky is just to the upper left (celestial east) of the stars that form the teapot-shaped constellation of Sagittarius (the Archer). To find Saturn, look about 3 fist diameters to the left (east) of Jupiter.

Dust off your telescope! Once the sky is dark, even a small telescope will show Saturn's rings and several of its brighter moons, especially Titan! Because Saturn’s axis of rotation is tipped about 27° from vertical (a bit more than Earth’s axis), we can see the top surface of its rings, and its moons can arrange themselves above, below, or to either side of the planet. During this week, Titan will migrate counter-clockwise around Saturn, moving from the right of Saturn tonight (Sunday) to the left of the planet next Sunday. (Remember that your telescope will flip the view around.)

(Above: The ice giant planets Uranus and Neptune are visible overnight this week, as shown here for midnight local time. The main belt asteroid designated (15) Eunomia, which is at peak brightness for 2019, is at upper right, in Aquarius.)

Tiny, blue Neptune is low in the southeastern sky in late evening, among the stars of Aquarius (the Water-Bearer). The planet will be rising shortly before 9:30 pm local time this week. You’ll find the magnitude 7.8 Neptune sitting half a finger’s width to the left (east) of a medium-bright star named Phi (φ) Aquarii, so both objects will appear together in the field of view of a telescope. The planet is actually moving slowly toward that star and will “kiss” it in early September.

Blue-green Uranus will be rising just after 11 pm local time this week. It is sitting below the stars of Aries (the Ram) and is just a palm’s width above the head of Cetus (the Whale). At magnitude 5.8, Uranus is bright enough to see in binoculars under dark skies, but not this week.

This week, Mercury is in the northeastern pre-dawn sky - below the stars of Gemini (the Twins). After swinging widely away from the sun last week, it will now be descending again. Your best opportunity to see it will land between 5:15 and 5:45 am local time.

(Above: Mercury is at peak visibility in the northeastern sky this week, as shown here at 5:30 am local time on Monday morning.)

Venus and Mars are lost in the sun’s glare for the next while.

Aquila the Eagle

If you missed last week’s information about the constellation of Aquila (the Eagle), I posted it here.

Public Astro-Themed Events

Every Monday evening, York University’s Allan I. Carswell Observatory runs an online star party - broadcasting views from four telescopes/cameras, answering viewer questions, and taking requests! Details are here. On Wednesday nights they offer free public viewing through their rooftop telescopes. If it’s cloudy, the astronomers give tours and presentations. Details are here.

On Wednesday, August 14, starting at 11 am, U of T’s AstroTour planetarium show will be a Kids Summer Break Show. Find tickets and details here.

At 7:30 pm on Wednesday, August 14, the RASC Toronto Centre will hold their free monthly Recreational Astronomy Night Meeting at the Ontario Science Centre, and the public are welcome. Talks include The Sky This Month and funtastic stories of the night sky for public outreach. These meetings are also streamed live on RASC-TC’s YouTube channel. Check here for details. Parking is free.

On Saturday and Sunday, August 17-18, the Ontario Science Centre will present Rockets, Robots & Rovers, exhibits and activities highlighting planetary exploration. Free with admission to the OSC. Details are here.

The next RASC-hosted Night at the David Dunlap Observatory will be on Saturday, August 17. There will be sky tours in the Skylab planetarium room, space crafts, a tour of the giant 74” telescope, and viewing through lawn telescopes (weather permitting). The doors will open at 8:30 pm for a 9 pm start. Attendance is by tickets only, available here. If you are a RASC Toronto Centre member and wish to help us at DDO in the future, please fill out the volunteer form here. And to join RASC Toronto Centre, visit this page.

Keep looking up, and enjoy the sky when you do. I love questions and requests - so, send me some!

#astronomy #constellations #Full Corn Moon #Perseids Meteor Shower #Mercury #Jupiter Shadow Transits #Saturn #planets

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sidpah · 5 years

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Color Blind

Red socialist flags wave on recommissioned poles because even anarchists have a trademarked logo… Sweet angels steal their wings from the spines of the poor…

Boasting red and white eyesores these houses rally as one set of bars and stripes, ambling across a distended tapestry – White door, red brick, white siding, red wood, white molding, red cheeks surveying the street through white window panes with unceasing paranoia, red blood, white skin, the rumble of distant red bomb skies and deep fried white potato freedom fries, and redcoats in red ties shooting because they can’t see the whites of their enemy’s eyes… Red flags in black basements mourning spilled blood, plotting how much more’ll need to be spilt –

While above, white women who wish they’d been born heiresses, blue striped scarves double wrapped around bronze throats in late August Sun sip burnt Starbucks under black anonymous glasses, shivering to each other because it’s never been cool to be hot – And they’re gone quick as they came ‘cause life’s about the entrance and exit – The stay’s the least climatic scene –

Left fingerprints on glass tables, toe prints clinking toe rings cast in pewter by an Indian tribe whose name they never cared enough to pronounce correctly, on glass floors where their skirts would’ve been looked up if they weren’t wearing jeans molded tight so every ghost of undergarment excised for sake of unsightly lines could be ogled by a red-eyed degenerate sucking thin white cigarette to pacify his oral fixation – It’s not lit. He doesn’t like the taste of smoke, but people look down on you when you suck your thumb or pens or cocks, but cigarettes still get the public approval for now, so he can hold his head up, as he looks up the skirts of little white girls carrying little white dolls with red blush on their high plastic cheekbones…

And they wear short white skirts, both the doll and the girl because the girl wants to grow up to be the doll and the girl’s mother waxes nostalgic about her days when she exuded the polymer mystique, fresh allure of that doll, lives vicariously through her daughter and her daughter’s sordid little doll, and her father sneaks covert glimpses at the doll and gets a little hard-on and he wonders why he doesn’t get one when he sees his wife who was once his pretty little consolation prize… A ribbon of white gold wrapped around the ring finger of his left hand reminding him of his duties to this little girl and her little blond doll and his miserable wife and their red and white house and Hawaiian blue swimming pool and jade grass and imported tropical flowers of ruby, amethyst, saffron, his black car and his white-washed office and his black secretary at his white-collar job with his black suit and white cuffs and his black caviar and white wine and the black eye he gave his wife after drinking too much white wine and the blackout that followed the same white wine and the red flush his ears take on when he lies, little white lies about not sleeping with his black secretary and not taking too many of those little white pills and not giving his wife that black eye as an anniversary present and not that he noticed the man with the oral fixation flipping a spare cigarette between his fingers, rolling it over and under each knuckle and thinking about nothing in particular other than panties and air –

He’s not so much thinking about them as seeing them superimposed on the rolled up screen of the coffin nail that’ll never seal his coffin because he had the good sense not to set it alight, and he doesn’t wonder who’s dying right now on the other side of the world, who’s dying in this city only a mile away. Alone in hospice, alone in a motel, surrounded by family at a ski lodge, driving to a concert or wedding or peace rally… Will they clear their mirror or cling tightly to their ersatz riches? – He doesn’t wonder who has a bomb strapped around his midriff and who’s making his peace with his god, or wondering is his god the same as the stranger’s god or who will be invaded tomorrow and under what false pretext, who makes up this shit, who rolled that cigarette, who picked that tobacco, who profited from that tobacco, how many people those poor tobacco pickers indirectly killed, how many dollars a year the white man makes who’s fucking his black secretary and snorting lines of white Go Powder, and whether he ever thinks about panties and air or whether that’s all trivial to him as the tri-colored ribbon stuck to his black Lexus trunk with a magnet that’ll be stolen by some privileged white teenaged suburbanite who’ll sell it for ten bucks to an old lady who’ll think it’s the most touching thing that this youngster is so patriotic and oh, how he supports his troops! And the kid’ll laugh as he spends the money on condoms and pot and searches for more ribbons to peel off to sell the geriatric population… (this only works in little old lady white neighborhoods…) The ones with the red and white houses flying tri-colored flags with yellow ribbons tied around their old oak trees and young maple trees and middle-aged pine trees (because it’s the thought that counts) –

Ribbons tied on in a red rush of commitment, the feeling that we need to do something even if it’s only this, even if it’s only putting a bowtie on local foliage, even if it’s only bombing the government infrastructure, even if it’s only assassination, only genocide, only nuclear warfare… The feeling that change must be made and that the red of muscle and carnage will be seen on nightly news, in papers, on the street, on the lawns of every little white house, every Big White House, every little red house until the blood stops being shed – it must stop being shed, there’s too much blood run loose of body, too much counterfeit innocence, too much manic sadness, these are the colors flying on every doorstep, up every flagpole, on every faded-out bumper sticker that proves these colors do indeed both fade and run… They fly on rooftops and car antennas and GOP rallies superimposed beneath a 9/11 two stories high, behind sloganeering defendants bullshitting the bullshitters, the blood, the fraud and the tears, and they say you can’t bullshit a bullshitter, so they cut you down to the ankle and suture your lips shut before you get the chance to try –

I must remember to have compassion, compassion for the seeds they sow, the seeds that may take millennia to sprout and bear fruit, but will form forests in the wake of their atrocities…

They’re ignorant – a disease like malaria – and because they live life spiked on illusion doesn’t mean I can’t mourn their future incarnations, mourn their future pain I will feel next to them as their mother when they’re lying half dead on a battlefield fighting for the war they were close enough to start and too close to run away from…

All things seem safer from a distance – Until the bomb whistles its homecoming tune...

Remaining shielded and safe in bunkers and resorts… Until they join the ranks at the fresh age of seventeen because of some compulsion they can’t enunciate – It’s deeper than in their genes, it’s in their karma – In the Alayavijnana – Even now they warn you not to mourn the dead, so don’t mourn them when their intestines are baking in the desert sun, don’t mourn them when you get the call saying your son has died in the line of duty, don’t mourn the collateral damage, don’t belittle their sacrifice. Could you imagine mourning the virgin who was given as gift to your Mayan god? You’re not a red-blooded American patriot if you love your enemy, (or don’t fear your god) – you have to live and die in the knowledge of your enemy (who is your warlord god) – know his weakness, his hunger, his thirst, his dirty little secrets to exploit (both your enemy and your vengeful god) – and you know them well because they are your thirst, your weaknesses, your same dirty little secrets (you and your ignorant god are already one) – and don’t be angry – I try not to be angry but I am, there’s too much fucking red in all our eyes these days – History shows red streaks and great red oceans seemingly insurmountable by few awakened minds whispering calm to enraged toddlers hurling explosive toys across the living room...

Great Mayan pyramids stained crimson, ropes bleed from mouths and draw holy glyphs of implication – Kings shed their own life for the gods, shed the life of the queen through her forked tongue, empty their sex and their humanity onto an altar for the servants, for the multitudes who will never climb those steps, the surrogate self left locked in sandstone tomb painted the colors of sunset, too much red in those historic eyes too…

So the torn yellow ribbon still flaps years later because no one sees it anymore, least of all the little patriot who tied it there. Part of the old familiar scenery stripped of meaning. Those solemn days are gone and he did what he could do, she tied a knot, bought a ribbon, profited a charity, supported her troops, hoped they’d stay there until the job was done which means one side or the other is decimated to the point of collapse.

The error is in the distinction. We see inside those vehicles, those layers of Kevlar and camo and remember these are human creatures, people, stories, and not soldiers… But that’s our error, because they’re Troops, they aren’t mothers and fathers, sons and daughters, they are the Military Machine. Visceral extensions of the tanks they drive and jets they pilot, and it is offensive to think of them not fulfilling their assigned duty, the culmination of their twenty-some year destiny. Imagine the disgrace they’d wear in place of their fatigues, the indignation sported like the Purple Heart they never had the opportunity to earn because a bunch of commie liberals stood in their way... They did what they had to do, as we all do what we feel we have to to believe we’re making a difference. Whether we want change or fidelity to the status quo. We are driven to allegiances straight and crooked, broken and bloodied, hidden and garish – unaware that in reality, there are no fucking flags – there are no fucking colors – only a single unbroken spectrum stretching far beyond our perceptual limitations…

Illusion! Illusion! Oh, most Immaculate of Illusions – When will we at last be tricked no more?

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