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#I’ve been wanting to draw him in with the sonic shirt for so long
habken · 1 year
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deku !!
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cipher-fresh · 1 year
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Me again. Just curious. Regarding your OCs (Vinra and Adriel), what inspired you to create them? I'm just wondering. For me, my Star Wars OC Leon was created due to a lack of nonhuman protagonists (except for Ahsoka), queer characters and neurodivergent rep in Star Wars. Sure he's basically an Armenian-Assyrian lion furry in space (Cathar! look them up) but still. (Also, speaking of which I LOVE your art style when drawing your OCs, you're a much better artist than I am for sure.) What about you
Vinra- I was watching a movie, and then had this extremely vivid image of a kid blowing kisses to an audience, and the kisses producing sparks. I’d been wanting to do an original story so I figured that was as good a start as any
Adriel- Half of her DNA is just being a quick Star Trek self-insert, but the other half is just exploring ideas Star Trek can’t afford to have as a main character on TV. I wanted to see a Trek species with wings, so I developed the Icarussians. Also the Lilac Sitcom.
I love your development for Leon, fleshing out areas of canon where particular franchises have implied but not shown in particular detail is one of my favorite fandom things.
On my art, I’m flattered but I do wish I was as good as my friends. I’m also struggling to find a good drawing program since I can’t use Medibang anymore on my laptop. My art does help visualize my writing stuff, which I suppose is all I need it for.
I guess this is as good a time as any to announce a new writing project?
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This is the Sunflower Doctor, a future version of the Doctor where I don’t have to worry about modern companions/whatever Doctor’s specific personality/whatever else. I should be posting some writing for him soon. I’ve had a lot of Doctor Who ideas and with the last special really reigniting that passion I’m pretty excited. If anyone wants to throw around ideas or suggestions for him I’d love it.
I don’t visually show it here, but he’s got a sunflower motif, often picking and wearing them, as he regenerated in a field of sunflowers.
[ID: Two versions of drawing of my Doctorsona, a man with brown skin and darker brown hair, a thin beard, smiling, not quite looking at the camera. He wears a gray long-sleeved, collared shirt with a white cravat, and a dark yellow waistcoat with colorful question marks. He has dark red trousers. He’s holding a grayish-green sonic screwdriver with like accents. The second version is identical, except he’s wearing a dark green coat. /End ID]
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intheticklecloset · 3 years
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Some Kind of Way (My Hero Academia)
ShinDeku AU
Summary: Shinsou begins to realize he may have feelings for Deku, and it makes him act so out of the ordinary that his crush decides the best way to help him relax is the very thing that kickstarted his feelings in the first place.
A/N: I am so unbelievably excited to finally share this with you! This one has been waiting in the wings for quite a while! Welcome to the first fic in my official ShinDeku AU! This story takes place after the events of "Say Mercy" and creates an entirely new storyline. While these two remain good friends in the Primary Universe, in this AU, things go a little differently.
I will admit this is pretty self-indulgent, but I know I'll want to keep writing for these boys, and what better excuse than to create an alternate reality in which they get together? Cute boyfriends and lots of tickling - what more could you want? I hope you enjoy! <3 <3
Word Count: 2,275
~~~
Midoriya: Video games at my place! Kaminari and Todoroki are coming – do you wanna join??
Shinsou stared at his phone screen for so long it went dark on him three times. He’d nearly forgotten that at some point he and Deku had exchanged numbers. Their spring break had just started; today was Monday, which meant that Deku’s mom was probably at work right now, as it was just after ten in the morning.
It really shouldn’t have been this hard to reply to a text. Yet here he sat, struggling to do just that.
It’s video games, Shinsou berated himself. You’ve played video games with him before. That’s what you were doing the last time you hung out. Just answer his text!
Shinsou: Yes. I don’t know where you live, though.
Midoriya: I’ll send you the details! Can’t wait!! :D
Shinsou set his phone aside, heart racing. This is ridiculous. What’s happening to me? He rubbed his eyes tiredly, his mind flashing back to the last time he’d hung out with Deku. They’d gotten into a tickle fight, which he’d ultimately won, but there had been a…a moment. When he’d pinned Deku for the last time and ordered him to beg for mercy. The way Deku had screamed the word over and over through hysterical fits of laughter…
He swallowed. It had been so satisfying, but more than that, it had been…cute. No, adorable. Completely, utterly adorable. Deku was adorable. And for the first time, Shinsou was noticing.
He tried not to think about it as he gathered up his things and walked out the door, heading to the destination the green-haired boy had provided him with.
*
Seeing him in person was so much worse.
Deku opened up the door with a bright smile and an invitation to come inside. It was the first time Shinsou had seen him without his school uniform or hero costume on. He wore a bright yellow All Might t-shirt and blue shorts, and he was barefoot. Shinsou awkwardly took his own shoes off in the entryway and followed him into the small living room, where Todoroki was already seated on the floor.
The icy-hot hero raised a hand in greeting. Shinsou nodded at him, then took a seat as well.
“Kaminari should be here any minute,” Deku said, pulling out his phone to check for a text from the blonde. “It’s so cool to finally have friends over at my place! Make yourselves at home. We’ve got juice and soda in the fridge if you want some, and later we can have lunch together, too.” Deku smiled so brightly it lit up the whole block. “Plus I’ll get to introduce you to a racing game that’s not Mario Kart for once!”
Shinsou couldn’t take his eyes off of him. He found himself noticing things more and more. The particular shade of green that his eyes were. The spattering of freckles across his face and arms. How scarred his right arm was. How muscular he was despite his smaller stature. Shinsou noticed all of it, and it made his heart beat faster and faster. Crap, crap, crap, he thought frantically. I…I’ve got a—
Someone knocked on the door, Deku hurried to answer it, and the spell was broken. Shinsou blinked several times. Seriously, what was happening to him?
“Heyyy, it’s my man Shinsou!” Kaminari greeted enthusiastically, slapping him on the back. “And Todoroki, of course. Ready to lose some video games?”
Shinsou let out a sigh of relief, then smirked up at him. “The joke’s on you, Kaminari. Midoriya says we’re not playing Mario Kart.”
“Dude, what?” Kaminari whipped around to face Deku. It was so much easier to look at him with Kaminari in the room as well. “You can’t take my crown away like that!”
Deku grinned. “I’m introducing you to a different racing game. Kacchan and I play it sometimes – Team Sonic Racing!”
“Sonic has a racing game?” Kaminari asked, then hummed. “Well, he is a speedy little guy. I guess it makes sense.”
“Team racing?” Todoroki asked. “What does that mean?”
Deku lit up at the question, then launched into a long, rambling explanation of all the ways it differed from Mario Kart, and why it was superior, as well. After a little while they finally got to the actual playing part of it, and before they knew it, the morning hours were long gone.
*
Getting lost in the world of Team Sonic Racing did wonders for Shinsou’s mind. He was able to focus on something that wasn’t Deku, for once – even if Deku’s character of choice did cause him a lot of trouble during the races. It gave him a chance to calm down, clear his head, and get back to his normal self. At least, until a couple of hours later when it was lunchtime.
Kaminari had announced early on that he had lunch plans with some others from their class, so it was expected that he’d leave after a couple of hours. But it was a surprise to both Shinsou and Deku when Todoroki announced he was also leaving.
“My apologies,” he said, “but I got a text from my sister that asked me to meet her downtown for lunch with her and my brother. I’m…trying to get back in touch with them, as it were. I can’t really do that while I’m at the dorms.”
“That’s okay,” Deku said, sounding sincere. “I understand. Go have fun with your family.” Then he turned to Shinsou. “Do you want to stay, or do you have somewhere to be?”
Shinsou’s heart was racing again. He was about to be alone with Midoriya again.
“I…I can stay,” he said, nodding. “If that’s all right with you.”
“Of course!”
After bidding farewell to their other friends, Deku led Shinsou back into the kitchen and opened up the fridge, pulling out various things they could use to make sandwiches. Shinsou got the bread out of the pantry (after struggling for a few moments to even find the pantry), and soon they were both at work making lunch for themselves.
“How’s your spring break so far?” Deku asked.
“It’s…fine,” Shinsou murmured. He didn’t really have anything exciting to report on. “You?”
“Great! I kind of took it easy this weekend because All Might insisted I actually rest, but we trained together this morning before I invited you over for video games. We’ll train again tomorrow, too.”
Shinsou glanced at him. “It’s spring break.”
“I know, but I don’t want to stop training. I’ve got to work as hard as I can to get even stronger.”
“Rest is important, too, you know.”
Deku smiled. “You sound just like everyone else.”
“Because we’re right.”
“I’m resting more than I’m training this week. Don’t worry, Shinsou. I won’t burn myself out.”
Shinsou nodded. “Good.”
“So,” Deku continued, expertly changing the topic as he finished up his sandwich, “want to play some more after lunch? Or we could watch a movie or something instead. What do you want to do?”
“Um…” Shinsou hesitated. Again that image of Deku laughing and begging entered his mind. He shoved it away. “I…I don’t know. Midoriya,” he added quickly, before he lost his nerve, “why do you want to hang out with me so much?”
Deku went silent for a moment. “Because you’re my friend? And you’re really cool! I think it’s so awesome that you want to join the hero course, and your quirk is so useful, especially with that voice changer thing you have now, and—”
“Useful?” Shinsou turned to look at him, surprised. “No one’s ever called my quirk useful before.”
“Then no one’s really known you before,” Deku replied confidently, taking his first bite of his lunch. “Mmm, this is good! What’d you make?”
Shinsou glanced down at his half-finished sandwich and reached for some lunch meat. “To be determined.”
*
When they’d finished eating and cleaned up the kitchen, Shinsou and Deku went back into the living room, where Team Sonic Racing sat waiting for them on the screen, should they continue to play it.
“Are you okay, Shinsou?” Deku asked, his voice gentler now. “You seem bothered about something.”
Dear god, was he really so easy to read? Shinsou cleared his throat. “No, I’m fine. I’m just…” He searched for the words. How could he explain to Deku that he was pretty sure he had a crush…on Deku? “I’m just…I don’t know. Fine.”
“You know, if you’re not up for video games anymore, we could play a different game,” Deku said. Shinsou glanced up at him, hearing the teasing tone in his voice, and his eyes widened when he saw the green-haired boy wiggling his fingers and smiling wide.
Instant. Blush.
“Uh, I-I mean…I mean, i-if you…want to, then…” Shinsou stammered, hating every word he tripped over. It had never been difficult for him to speak to Midoriya before. Why was it suddenly the hardest thing he’d ever done?
“Actually, maybe we shouldn’t have a tickle fight,” Deku announced even as he lunged for Shinsou and tackled him to the floor. “Maybe I should just tickle you! You really need to relax, Shinsou. You act like I’m about to bite you or something.”
“I d-dohohohohon’t – I cahahahahan’t help it!” he giggled, the light pinches along his sides and ribs enough to help him loosen up a little, but not enough to really make him panic just yet. He fell onto his back on the floor, letting Deku tickle all over his torso, drawing giggle after much-needed giggle out of him.
“You don’t have to be nervous around me,” Deku continued, oblivious to Shinsou’s struggle. “We’re friends! If you want to talk about something, I’m happy to listen.”
Crap, crap, crap! Shinsou brought his hands up to cover his face, growing really, truly flustered now. “I’m sohohohohohohorry, I cahahahahan’t – I cahahahaHAHAHAHAN’T!! NAHAHAHAHAHA!!” The violet-haired boy shot his arms down to try and shove Deku away when he reached his hips, squeezing with a wicked smirk on his face. “AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA NOHOHOHOHO!! MIDORYA!!”
“Relax, Shinsou~” Deku teased, swinging a leg over to straddle his friend and pin him more firmly in place, still squeezing his hips. “Sometimes it’s best to just laugh it all out, right?”
“AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! GOD, MIHIHIHIHIDORIYA!! NOT THEHEHEHEHERE!!” Shinsou cackled, twisting and writhing on the ground. “YOU KNOHOHOHOHOHOW IT’S BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAD THEHEHEHERE!!”
“Why do you think I’m tickling you there?” Deku laughed, too, finding his hip bones and pressing in deeply. “Tickle, tickle, tickle~”
“DOHOHOHOHOHOHOHON’T!!” Shinsou cried, flustered and embarrassed but also having a lot of fun despite himself. He let out a loud shriek and kicked his legs when Deku focused on that one spot that drove him absolutely crazy. “NAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! MIDORIYAHAHAHAHA!!”
Deku chuckled. “Feeling better? Feeling relaxed yet, Shinsou?”
Shinsou squealed, prying his eyes open just enough to see Deku’s huge smile, his bright eyes, his looming form over him, and the boy from 1-C simply could not take it anymore. “PLEHEHEHEASE!! STAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAP IT!! MIDORIYA, PLEHEHEHEHEASE!! MERCY!! MERCY MERCY MERCYEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE!!”
Deku stopped, but didn’t climb off of him. Shinsou gasped for breath and looked up at him, still giggling, surprised to see a tiny blush on the boy’s freckled cheeks. He blinked a few times. “M-Midoriya?”
“I…I’m s-sorry, I, uh…” Deku stammered, blinking as well. His cheeks got even pinker. “Oh! I’ll let you go—”
Shinsou reached up faster than either of them could think and grabbed onto Deku’s arms, stopping him from climbing off just yet. He forced himself to make eye contact with the smaller boy, and when he did, what he saw there gave him the encouragement he needed to finally get this off of his chest.
“Midoriya,” he said quietly, “I think I need to tell you something.”
Deku swallowed. He suddenly seemed nervous, too. “Y-Yeah?”
Shinsou’s heart was pounding against his ribcage. “I…I kind of…like you. Like…you know. That way.”
Deku let out a little gasp in response, but he never broke eye contact. His cheeks went from pink to red. “I…I t-think I like you, too, Shinsou…”
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
Shinsou finally moved to sit up, wrapping an arm around Deku’s back to keep him from falling over as he did so, and when he was upright again the two of them were face-to-face. Shinsou’s eyes flicked all over Deku’s blushing features, from his shining eyes down to his lips and back up again. Then he brought his free hand up to scribble against the smaller boy’s side.
Deku immediately smiled wide, giggling slightly, and Shinsou’s suspicions were confirmed. “Ugh, you’re adorable,” he muttered, pulling him into a bear hug and burying his face in his shoulder. “You know that? Adorable, Midoriya.”
“I-I think you’re cute, too,” Deku stammered, sounding incredibly flustered.
“Only cute?” Shinsou teased, digging his fingertips into the boy’s ribs, feeling him jolt in his arms but holding him tightly all the same. “Wow, and after I just poured my heart out to you.”
“Ahahahahaha nohohohohohoho! I’m sohohohohohorry!” Deku squealed, giggling and squirming but unable to go anywhere or protect himself. He tossed his head back and laughed freely. “You’re adohohohohohorable, too! Plehehehehehease, Shinsou!”
“Too late, Midoriya,” Shinsou replied, grinning into his shoulder, feeling more confident now. He slid one tickling hand down to Deku’s hip and laughed with him when he spasmed so hard they both fell to the floor. “You said I was just cute. Now you’ll have to face the wrath of the tickle monster!”
“Nohohohohohohohoho!” Deku cried, giggling hysterically, but it was obvious to both of them that he didn’t really want any of this to stop, and neither did Shinsou.
So it didn’t.
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youareinlovees · 3 years
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hiii i just send you the creative writing so uh only reply to this ask if you didn't get the other one by some chance and i'll send it again :D
Thank you for your service bestie 😁 I think it might be easier if I put it under a cut but omfg I'm obsessed with it and the dynamic is so spot onnn wtf
Hiiiii I bring you a gift!! I hope it's good, I don't really post my ~creative writing~ and this is my first time writing these two so hopefully, it'll suffice. Also ironically I think they may be one off the longest things I've written. Anyways ////
-
As he approaches the Belfast rental that served as his temporary home for the next few months, he can't help but smile. For the first time since they started filming he not coming home to a vacant house. Instead, this time, he's going to be coming home to his beautiful, wonderful girlfriend.
He's been looking forward to this all day, barely able to focus on blocking and script reading with the thought of her just blocks away weighing so heavily on his mind. It certainly didn't help that he had spent so much time the night before looking through her photos at the Brits. She had looked absolutely radiant, her beautiful features perfectly accentuated by her lovely outfit.
Gosh, he's so obsessed with her. She easily occupies much of his thoughts on a near-daily basis and whenever they were together he can barely get enough of her. They've been apart a few days now and even that was slowly killing him. He needs her. Need to be near her, to touch her, embrace her, kiss her soundly. And the fact that he's about to be able to do so makes his heart swell with joy.
Opening the front door, his heart beats loudly as anticipation grows in his stomach. "Honey, I'm home." He quips.
Immediately he's greeted by a white and brown fluff ball scampering around his feet. Chuckling to himself, he bends down, scooping the excitable cat into his arms.
"Hello there Benjamin."
"Well someone missed his daddy." A warm voice floats across the room and he looks up, a grin forming at the sight of his lovely girlfriend.
Benjamin squirms in his arms and he releases the fluffy cat before striding across the room. His hands land on her arms, covered by gray fabric that's soft to his touch. "I hope he wasn't the only one."
With a cheeky grin, she presses up on her toes, lips meeting his as her arms loop around his shoulders. Her lips are warm and soft and feel like home and he revels in her touch.
"He wasn't." She breathes after pulling back slightly. Her blue eyes flutter open, looking up at him through her dark eyelashes and he's fairly certain he falls even deeper in love right then and there.
Their next kiss is far shorter, though the passion is still there. Finally, he glances around the room and then back to her, eyebrow cocked. "Bring enough boxes?"
She follows his gaze and then laughs. "It's five months, babe, I have to be prepared."
He chuckles and goes to reply when her eyes light up. "Oh! And I set up my recording gear in the guest room. How does 'Kitty Committee Studio," She cups her hands, as if miming parenthesis, "(Belfast, Ireland)' sound?"
His eyebrows shoot up. "It sounds like you've been busy."
Her shoulders bounce up as she gives a little shrug. "A bit. I'm really excited for this chapter of our lives and I don't mind having a few crazy days if it means getting to spend more time with you."
A smile breaks across his face, his heart swelling with joy. She always says the most romantic things, things he couldn't even dream of saying on his best days-- though she's quick to disagree with him, citing his stint as "William Bowery" as evidence-- the writer in her popping out in all facets of life. He loves that part of her, seeing her mind at work as she pours her heart out, representing her inner feelings with the most beautiful sounds. It means a great deal to him that she loves him enough to express it so wondrously through her music. He's not sure if he can ever repay her for those amazing sonic gifts, his platform far less diaristic than hers, but he certainly tries his best to show her just how much he appreciates and loves her each and every day.
"What's that face for?" She asks and he realizes he's been gazing lovingly at her far longer than what would ordinarily be considered comfortable.
"I love you." The words slide off his tongue easily, an outcome of saying them for the better part of almost five years now but they hold the same weight, the same truth, every time he says them.
She beams, her eyes twinkling. "I love you too."
He kisses her soundly and then squeezes her hand. "Also congrats on being a Global Icon winner, love. We should celebrate."
"Oh yes! I'll get the wine." She nods and begins to head into the kitchen when he grabs her hand. It's a gentle yet firm grip and there's an amused look on her face as he pulls her into his arms.
His voice is low, a suggestive tone to it as he raises an eyebrow. "That's not the type of celebrating I had in mind."
"It's not?" She questions, tilting her head but he can see amusement dancing in her eyes.
"You're a Global Icon now, I think I need to pay my respects." He tilts his head, moving ever closer to her until their noses bump together, lips barely touching. He can feel her breath on his skin, smell her woody perfume. She's so close yet not nearly close enough. "Can I do that?"
She nods, skin brushing against him. Desire for her courses through his veins and with that simple gesture he finally gives in to it.
Their lips crash together, caressing and pressing against each other. His hands are in her hair, long blonde strands tangling between his fingers. She sighs breathily into the kiss and then he's met with her tongue swiping against his lips, a silent question of permission which he is quick to grant.
He can feel her hands on his biceps, fingers squeezing around his muscles before loosening and running up over his shoulders and to his neck. In turn, his hands slide down her back, slipping under the loose bottom of her shirt, his fingertips gliding over her hips.
Their kisses get a little bolder, a little more desperate, and soon he's pulling away from her mouth and kissing down her neck, nipping gently at the skin there. Her soft, breathy moans serve to spur him on and he sucks roughly on her neck, causing her to groan loudly.
He spends a few more minutes kissing across her neck, down to her collarbone, trying to cover every inch of exposed skin. Her fingers tighten in his hair, gently pulling him away from where he was kissing dangerously close to her pulse point. "Babe... No more teasing."
He gives her a devilish grin and then his lips are back on hers, frantic passionate kisses until they're both absolutely breathless.
Taking a small step back, his eyes scan up and down her body. "Get undressed." He tries to command but she merely smirks and gives him a wink.
"Make me."
A devilish grin crosses his face seconds before he surges forward, kissing her once more as his fingers pull on the hem of her shirt. The second it's off of her, he can feel his heart rate spike at the sight of her lacy black bra. No matter how many times he sees her like this, it will always send a bolt of energy racing through his core.
"Gorgeous," He breathes, bending down to trail kisses right above the fabric.
She utters a soft "ding" which causes both of them to chuckle. Her laughter soon dissolves into a moan as he expertly unlatches her bra and pulls a nipple into his mouth, his hand going to cover the other one.
He massages her breast softly, hand moving in sync with his mouth as he sucks long and hard. Her fingers glide through his hair, nails occasionally scratching across his neck, causing a shiver to run up his spine. After a moment, he switches up his tactic, his teeth grazing against her nipple as he rolls her other one between his thumb and forefinger.
Her moans grow louder and louder and the next thing he knows, she’s pulling at his shirt, trying to take it off him. He obliges, his fingers going to hook into her waistband in turn.
She's completely naked a second later and he can feel his pants growing tighter at the sight. His hands wrap around her biceps, gently guiding her to the couch as her hands stroke across his now bare chest.
"Sit." He urges her and she obliges, sitting down with her legs pressed together and a playful smirk dancing across her lips.
Chuckling to himself, he kneels down, placing his hands on her knees and his chin on top of his hands. Gazing up at her, he takes in everything. Her blonde hair falling across her shoulders, the amused cock to her eyebrow, the freckles splashed across her skin. Everything about her fills him with an indescribable joy.
"I'm really proud of you." He says after a long quiet moment.
Her playful smirk morphs into an adorable, breathtaking smile as she tenderly strokes his cheek. He returns the look before turning his head and placing a kiss against her palm.
"I love you," Comes her quiet voice, laced with adoration.
"I love you too." He ducks his head, placing a kiss on each of her knees. "Now... let me show you just how much."
Sliding his hands down between her legs, he gently pushes them apart. He weaves his way between her thighs, one kiss at a time, drawing nearer and nearer to where he knew she wanted him most. And then he pauses, mere inches away, and begins to kiss back up her leg. She lets out an annoyed groan, cupping his face in her hands and not so gently guiding him back.
Chuckling, he slips his hands beneath her legs, hooking them up over his shoulders. He pauses again, looking up at her. Their eyes lock and he gives a little smile before leaning in and placing small kisses around her clit. There's a gasp, followed by a soft whimper and he can't help but grin, his kisses becoming deeper in turn.
His tongue flicks between his lips as he travels down between her folds, giving an experimental taste. He can feel himself grow harder as he realizes just how wet she is.
And it's all for him.
With that final thought, he focuses all his energy on making her feel good. His tongue continues to slide in and out of her, tasting her with fervor. Her fingers tangle in his hair, her whimpers turning to low moans as he moves.
And then he pulls away slightly, glancing up at her. Her chest is heaving, eyes half-lidded, and her lips hang open ever so slightly.
"You're beautiful," He finds himself breathing and she squirms a little as the air from his mouth brushes against her core.
If she's going to respond, he certainly doesn't give her a chance, pulling her clit into his mouth and sucking roughly.
Taylor shouts his name, her fingers clenching in his hair. He barely notes the pain, however, hand flattening on her stomach to hold her in place as he concentrates solely on her uninhibited cries of pleasure and the contracting muscles beneath his mouth.
A second later, he slides two fingers inside of her, moving slowly at a pace he knew would torture her. His fingers reach as far as they can-- which in his case are very far-- and he gives them an experimental few pumps. Her walls flutter around him and he smiles-- mouth still on her clit-- and begins to stroke her walls, still sucking on that little bundle of nerves.
Her ankles lock around his back, thighs squeezing his head, keeping him in place. He can tell she's getting close, her moans increasing with frequency so he doesn't let up. Rather, he doubles his efforts, sucking and stroking, harder and faster.
It's sexy, so sexy and he looks up, maintaining eye contact with her even though her eyes are barely open. He can hardly see the blue peeping from below her eyelashes. The whole image is enough to make him come undone and he groans, the sound vibrating from his chest.
Her heels dig into his back, a long moan that morphs into his name tearing from her lips as she comes undone. He doesn't stop, still moving in order to draw her orgasm out as she twitches and writhes above him. Eyes never moving from her face, the whole sight imprinted in his brain, memories forming to torture him in the dead of night or on long trips away from her. But he doesn't mind, the occasional distance only serving to make the reunion that much sweeter.
Finally, her body sags and he moves away, trailing soft kisses up and down her thighs and over her hips. Her fingers brush through his hair, pushing it away from his face and then trail down to stroke across his beard. He's sure he has her coated all around his mouth so he licks his lips, glancing up at her to see that she's smiling.
"I love you," are the first words out of her mouth, causing him to drop another kiss on her hipbone.
He rests his chin against her stomach, a small smile on his lips. "I love you too. I guess it was good then?"
She laughs and then beckons him upwards with one finger. Obeying, he pushes himself up, crawling along her body to hover over her.
Cupping his cheeks, she laughs again. "It was amazing. Thank you."
Now it's his turn to laugh, turning to nuzzle her hand. "Anything for a Global Icon."
She tilts her head, cocking an eyebrow. "So you'd do the same for Elton John or Robbie Williams?"
With a chuckle, he shakes his head, "No, I like boobs too much."
"Oh is that all?"
"Yep." He ducks his head, peppering kisses over her chest as if to prove his point.
She cups his cheeks again, guiding his face back up to hers. Her face is twisted in an exaggerated pout, pink lip jutting out and he half-heartedly resists the temptation to pull on it with his teeth.
"Really?" Her tone is innocent but he can see the cocky look on her face and he loves it.
They're silent for a long moment, each party daring the other, a silent dance of who is more stubborn. But the strain in his pants is almost too much to bear, her smug looks not doing him any favors, so he relents. "No," He places a quick kiss against her lips. "I like you far too much to consider doing anything with anyone else ever."
"Good," Her hands slide up from his cheeks to hook around his neck, "Because you're all mine."
"Indeed I am."
Their lips meet again, this kiss far more passionate than the last. Tongues dancing together as their hands glide across each other's skin, exploring and scratching.
Pretty soon he feels her hands on his waistband and then the button on his pants being popped. Pulling back slightly, he gives her room to pull down his jeans and then boxers, sighing with relief as he's finally released from their confines.
Kicking his pants from his feet, he returns to kissing her, hands sliding up and down her sides. He groans loudly into her mouth as he feels her hand wrap around his cock, giving him a few slow strokes just how he likes it. He has to stop kissing her to grit his teeth. God, if she keeps doing that he's going to cum any second now.
His hand wraps around her wrist, stilling her movements. "Couch or bed?"
"Couch," She says without hesitation. "I want you inside of me now."
She lies down longways and he climbs on top, hovering over her. Grabbing her thigh, he guides her leg to hook around his waist, her other one following in suit.
His dick slides across her clit, the action causing both of them to moan and a moment later he pushes inside of her. Her mouth forms an open "o" as he moves in slowly, eyes never leaving her face. She's wet and warm around him, a perfect fit. It's like they were made for each other.
He moves slowly at first allowing both of them to find their rhythm. It gives him time to suck on her neck or her chest, little ways that will add to her pleasure. But pretty soon she's urging him to move faster, thrust harder and he's all too happy to follow her commands.
They move together, him building up speed as her ankles lock behind him, pushing him in even closer. Their moans echo together, unintelligible aside from the occasionally uttering of each other's name. Her nails claw down his back, too short to leave a mark but the action still arouses him even more.
He's close-- so close he can barely think straight-- but he's determined to get her there first. Hand slipping between them, he begins to rub slow circles on her clit, the action causing her nails to dig in further.
As his hand speeds up in time with his thrusts, she yanks his head down to kiss him only to tear away seconds later as her body convulses and she cries out.
Her walls clamp down around him, so tight he nearly collapses in surprise. A few thrusts later and he's a goner, body twitching as he cums.
When he can finally see straight, she pulls him down next to her, snuggling into his chest as they lie on the couch, hot and sweaty from their actions.
"Welcome home, darling." He mutters into her hair, pressing a kiss against the top of her head.
She hums in response, tilting her head to kiss him.
He has a great feeling that these next few months in Belfast are going to be quite fun.
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No Matter How Many Skies Have Fallen
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A/N: I really have nothing to say for myself at this point. 
Sequel chapter to this fic here, if you’d like to catch up. 
Thank you to @caffeine-in-an-iv​ for being my incredible beta and to @maybege​ for letting me rant to you and giving me so many wonderful ideas when I hit my walls. Also to the Obi-Wan fandom in general: Y’all are some of the kindest, most supportive people I’ve ever encountered on this hell site. Thank you for your support and your content! 
Pairing: Obi-Wan Kenobi x Force Sensitive! Fem! Reader (no Y/N)
Word Count: 11.9K (I lost all control) 
Warnings: SMUT!!! Soft Dom! Obi rights, Also, Sub! Obi vibes, Foodplay (but not how you’d think), Inappropriate use of the Force, Voice Kink, Obi-Wan Kenobi’s Hands Appreciation Society, As Usual: Too Many Feelings For Porn, Emotional Competence Kink, Trust Kink, TW: Pregnancy, TW: A character draws blood on themself unknowingly
Title from one of my favorite quotes:
“Ours is essentially a tragic age, so we refuse to take it tragically. The cataclysm has happened, we are among the ruins, we start to build up new little habitats, to have new little hopes. It is rather hard work: there is now no smooth road into the future: but we go round, or scramble over the obstacles. We’ve got to live, no matter how many skies have fallen.”
-D.H. Lawrence
What infinite irreverence the galaxy has for Obi-Wan Kenobi. 
As if his master and only semblance of a parent wasn’t taken from him when he needed him most.
As if a boy who needed a father wasn’t entrusted to Obi-Wan quickly following, far too young and full of his own loss. 
As if he wasn’t thrust onto the pedestal of parenthood when he really only wanted to be a brother. 
As if that isn’t what they became anyway, and as if that wasn’t the exact cloud that hung over the atmosphere of your lives ever since you’d arrived on Tatooine. 
As if the being whose life signature resided in your abdomen didn’t throw a punch into each of those blooming bruises by its very existence.
Which is why, you knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that you couldn’t tell him yet. 
Normally, it’d be no small feat to keep something of this scale from him. But these days, he’s so focused on having his shields up around you, keeping you from both being hurt by or helping with his torments. 
You have to take great care to control your body language, because even when he’s shut off from you in the Force, his keen perceptiveness will pick up on something being off anyway.
The art of a convincing lie is having layers. If he senses your feelings and decides to dig, then only give up one layer, and he’ll stop looking.
 In this case, it’s your worry over him. It is true you’re trying to shield him from feeling that, not wanting him to carry the burden of it on top of having to work through his own pain.
  But it’s not everything you’re trying to hide from him. So you let a small projection of your fear over his well-being escape, like you’re losing control of your feelings. It’s enough to convince him, and something critical inside you dies at the victory every time.
 He deserves your honesty, and you’ve never given him anything less until now.
 You hate how well your strategic deceit takes root. Because only part is due to your talent as a liar. The rest comes from how much he trusts you.
  You’re not stupid, though. You know it’s only a matter of time before the biological changes in your body betray you. 
Obi-Wan said he needed time, and you’re going to give him as long as you possibly can before dropping this anvil on him, hoping the further he gets from it all, the better off he’ll be. 
You could kick yourself for not being more careful. You hadn’t missed any dose of your herbal Ho’Din contraceptive. It was one of the few things you shoved in your bag with the mere minutes you had to leave Coruscant for good. It was from a reliable medicinal shop, and there’s no good reason it should have failed in any way.
But here you were anyway. 
Of course, there are options that free you from the obligation of carrying the child to term. All are expensive, and Tatooine is sorely lacking in any trustworthy medical facilities. The alternative methods could put your own life in danger as well. 
Even if it wasn’t, you’d feel so strange making that kind of decision without Obi-Wan. Not that he wouldn’t support whatever decision you needed to make for yourself if you did, but going behind his back is something you’re not sure his trust could recover from. 
And really, far too much has been decided for him in his life. 
The worst reason why you can’t bring yourself to move towards any solution that ends the pregnancy now, the reason you abhor, is because somewhere within you, despite the awfulness of the time and place, you want this baby. 
You couldn’t give a definitive explanation for yourself, but you did. Undoubtedly
Obi-Wan doesn’t press when you ask to cease your combat training for a time, asking to start learning the new offerings of the Jedi texts instead. 
He’s concerned when you tell him, but if he’s suspicious as for your reasoning, he doesn’t show it outwardly, at least. 
The way he doesn’t even ask about why, though: It makes you wonder if he had a reason all of his own why he’d rather not fight, even in imitation.
The Jedi writings given to Obi-Wan by Master Yoda are often more cryptic and mystifying than logically applicable without deciphering, which you are at first annoyed by, but then strangely thankful for, as Obi-Wan verbally processes his understandings of it, knowing what he does of the Jedi way, and you adding your thoughts from the stance of fresh eyes. 
The conversations distract wonderfully, and you savor any way you still get to connect with him.
You don’t push for the ways he doesn’t allow you to connect with him anymore. The way he won’t let you in his mind. Because now, you too have a reason to not let him in yours. 
*******
When it’s time to go into town for supplies again, you make up some feeble excuse which you know Obi-Wan sees through as a lie, and this time, he does pry, eyes soft and concerned. He knows you love going to the markets. You simply explain that you’re tired, which is true enough to satisfy him, leaving you behind with a kiss on your forehead before you watch him saddle up your eopie and ride off.
You sigh, sagging against the closed door once he’s disappeared into the horizon. You do love the markets. They’re the most colorful thing the planet has to offer, textiles and rugs and shiny, hanging things. 
But the spices. Fragrant and potent, usually so appetizing and intoxicating, you know would turn your stomach alone. And that doesn’t even account for the strange meats being cooked at different vendors, and Maker help you if anyone was selling raw meat of any sort today. You’ve done your best to keep your nausea at bay, at times even tapping into the Force for centering when the world felt like it was rocking. But you know the market would be too much, too many variables.
It’s not a fast journey, even on the eopie, and you don’t expect Obi-Wan to be back for hours. Which is why when you hear a knock on your door, the tool in your hand clatters to the floor, as does the remnants of your project. 
You quickly grab one of the long staffs you and Obi-Wan had only begun to use in your defense training, trying to recall the lessons as adrenaline begins to rush through your veins. Tatooine isn’t known for its pleasant company, and if anyone was going to try to rob your home, now would be as good a time as any. 
The knock sounds again, and you shout from the inside, “What do you want?!” 
“A peace treaty in the form of baked goods,” comes the feminine voice, one you recognize. 
Opening the door, you lower the weapon in your hand as Beru Lars blinks at you.
“I’m sorry, I thought you were…” You step aside, gesturing for her to come in.
She waves a hand, dismissive. “I understand.”
You lead her over to the small living area as you fix two glasses of water from the kitchen. 
When you set them down on the table, Beru speaks. “I apologize for the intrusion, if there was another way of contacting you before coming here…”
“It’s absolutely fine, I’m glad to have you.” You smile in what you hope is an assuring way.  “Although, I’m surprised at it just being you. Where’s Owen?”
Her eyes flick to the stone floor. “He um… doesn’t exactly know I’m here. He’s out on a business deal today.” 
You feel your eyebrows go up at that, waiting for her to continue. But instead, she changes the subject. “Where’s Ben?” 
“In town. We needed some things from the market.”
Awkwardness settles in as a conversation topic evades you. 
She breaks the beat of quiet. “Here, I brought these for you.”
You take the basket in her hands from her, peeling back the thick woven cloth to reveal a simple form of bread. It looks so appetizing your stomach clenches, and you instantly realize you haven’t had anything since breakfast. 
But then the smell hits you, hard and powerful, and stars, it’s just bread, there’s nothing that should do that about bread, but you’re on your feet in a minute, forsaking the basket on the ground as you bolt to the fresher, barely making it in time to the sonic sink before you start heaving. 
In a moment, you feel soft hands at the nape of your neck, gently holding back the fabric of your shirt and blowing cool air as you continue to wretch. 
By the time everything has settled again, you’ve dealt with the aftertaste in your mouth, and splashed on your face with a precious cup of cool water, hot shame rises in your cheeks at how this must seem to Beru. 
You wipe at your face with a rag, half muffling your words when you address her. “I’m so sorry, I’m sure they’re absolutely delicious, It really has nothing to do…” 
“How far along are you?”
Your spine straightens instantly, and you let the cloth drop to the floor.
“I… what?”
Now she’s the one to flush. “My apologies, it’s just that it’s known for being a very gentle bread, it’s one my mother used to feed me when my stomach ached. If that smell turned you... I just assumed, and I shouldn’t have.” 
Your lips purse as you consider your options. It’d be easy to say nothing, or just to nod. 
“Two months,” you hear your own voice answer despite yourself. You’ve never been one for easy anyway.
A surge of emotion wells up in you at even being able to speak it aloud, aloud to another human, and next thing you know, to your absolute horror, you’re crying into your hands as your shoulders crumple in on themselves. 
Why now, of all times? In front of Beru Lars? Whom you know accepted Luke with her husband without question because they couldn’t biologically have any children of their own? 
“I’m… so… sorry,” You manage to choke out through the sobs, disgusted at your own lack of control.
At some point Beru must join you on the floor, patting her hand soothingly on your back. “Shhh, it’ll be alright. You’ll see. It’s not so bad having a young one around, you and Ben have so much to look forw…”
“He doesn’t know.” 
Her hand pausing briefly on your back is the only indication she gives of shock.
“Would he not be happy?”
You take a steadying breath in, trying to calm yourself. “I don’t know,” you whisper, small and almost frightened to let the room hear you say it.
It falls silent again, but it echoes around in your brain, bouncing against your thoughts until you feel the onset of a headache.
After you’re to a numb enough state to enjoy yourself, you and Beru make tea and bring it back to the living area. 
She lifts her glass to yours, clinking them. “To secrets kept from men and the mischievous company they bring.”
Your head now throbs with pain, but you smile anyway. “Thank you,” you say to her, and you mean it so very much.
********
The next time Obi-Wan goes into town, you’re feeling well enough to go with him. 
You’re not visiting the food portion of the market, after all, so you’re not as much of a risk to set your stomach off. He’s taken to fixing small machinery for trading with the Jawas recently, the extra income helping with the projects around the house. 
There’s a trap door that you found within the first day of being there. The staircase carved out of the bedrock beneath the hut leads to a small room that has now served as additional storage and a place for Obi-Wan to work. It’s also quite cool during the day, so if you can stand the smell of the various meats hung to dry, you’ll sit down there with some sort of project, or even reading material if you come upon it.
So today, he’s looking for a few specific tools that will streamline his working. 
It doesn’t take long to find a promising stall among the maze of shopkeepers, selling everything from trinkets to weaponry of questionable legality. Obi-Wan finds what he needs easily enough, and it looks like the trip is going to be as efficient as it is successful as you walk through alleyways with him. 
At some point, he takes your hand in his, squeezing it gently, projecting an assuring strand of affection toward you. It’s such a small gesture, but you’ll never tire of the feeling of his hand clasped in yours. 
You’re almost back to where the eopie, Rooh, as he named her, is stabled when Obi-Wan abruptly slows his pace, dropping into a stall. An alarm goes off in your head when you watch him pick up a frivolous trinket on a table that you know he has no interest in. 
You open your mouth to inquire at his actions, but it answers itself once you see him glance out of his peripheral vision to where the holonews plays in the stall adjacent. 
Battle footage on what you recognized to be Kashyyk at the presence of the many Wookies plays with the Emperor addressing the viewers in a very two-dimensional, sugar-coated, thinly-concealed threat to any other world that would try to resist occupation.
There’s wreckage and uncensored violence, and you turn your head away. 
“May it be known that Lord Vader is quite capable and willing to help those into compliance that require assistance... “
The item in his hands crushes, ceramic tile cracking into his hands, breaking the skin and drawing out drips of red.
But he doesn’t flinch, doesn’t even seem to register the glass he’s pushing into his own hand. His eyes are wide and he makes a wounded noise from the back of his throat, eyes peeled to the holonews now, not even trying to feign disinterest.
His signature sparks, giving a flash and then a severe cry of anguish, and it hits you then. Pieces of information coming together as you feel Obi-Wan tear apart at seams. 
Anakin Skywalker turned to the Dark Side, and Obi-Wan thought him dead. There’s a new Sith Lord now; the correlation and timing can’t be coincidence. 
The Toydarian male behind the stall shouts something about paying for it in full, and you quickly hand over the credits with a glare.
You start to pull Obi-Wan’s other hand off the table, but you quickly realize your mistake in that.
The moment it isn’t holding his weight anymore, his knees start to give, and you’ve only a second to react, jamming your body under his arm to keep him upright. His momentum nearly pulls you forward, but you plant your feet and remember at the last second to call on the Force to assist you.
He seems to come to himself enough to walk somewhat as you steer him to the nearest alley away from the vendors.
He braces a hand on the stone wall, but even it isn’t enough as he drops to his knees. He doesn’t even seem to have the will to stand.
Crouching beside him, you place one of your hands on his chest. 
“I…. I…” The tremor in his usually so crisp wording and steady voice crushes your chest, making it hard to breathe. “I failed him. I failed him.” 
“Obi-Wan,” you start, trying to grasp at anything, everything to comfort him, not even thinking of how you can’t call him that here, even if there’s no one in sight.
If he registers your call, he doesn’t let on, continuing in his whispers to the wall.  “He was burning. Burning, but I couldn’t do it. It would have been mercy to kill him, it was my mandate to do it, but I could not...” his voice gives out on the last word, and his shoulders fall forward in a shuddering inhale that transforms into a cut-short sob on its exhale.
“And now…” as the words pour from him, his shields fall, and so do the floodgates on his emotions, and it takes all the training you know to not be washed away in the torrential current of his grief. Does he even know he’s doing it, or has the insurmountable weight of his burden finally overridden his innate control over them?
“I’ve sentenced him to a fate worse than death.” He’s only barely choked out the end of his thought before his shoulders start to shake in earnest and he crumples in on himself as he begins to weep for his brother.
Giving no heed to the odd angle, you throw your arms around him. Trying to get your arms around his body is exactly the embodiment of the feeling of the moment, this anguish you don’t even begin to be enough to cover. 
What could you say? What could you do? What would even begin to… 
When you press your fingers to his temple, it’s light, a show of how unforced this is, how much he can say no if he needs.  Because this isn’t for you. No, it’d be so much easier to not know the exact depth of his pain and rip your chest open with that knowledge. But you’re offering it,  meaning it absolutely, desperate for him to take the hand offered to him. “Please let me in. Don’t do this alone. Let me…”
Then he’s pulling you in, not just letting you come in yourself, clinging to you like a person drowning. You remember to steady, to try to keep your own head above the water as wave after surging, overpowering wave of soul-crippling agony like you’ve never felt it engulf you in their surge.
You can’t hold out against it no matter how hard you try, so you refocus from centering yourself to pulling his signature into yours as you wrap your arms tighter around his torso. 
 And you begin to weep with him.
 *********
 The suns are drifting low by the time both of you have any intelligible thought, far too late to start the journey back to the hut. 
At the inn, as Obi-Wan falls into the beginnings of a restless sleep, a thought emerges, clear and crisp in its awful truth. 
 You cannot tell him for a long while still. 
 *******
 It’s different now. Because when he wakes in the night, he doesn’t give you falsehoods you see right through. He lets you into the terror and distortional dreams that all reside over one theme.  
There’s silence in the first days after. Just silent tears and still embraces and the way time seems to freeze when grief is at its worst.
But then he starts talking. It comes in little pieces, then in larger ones.  
The loudest thing his signature screams is guilt.
You tell him how it isn’t his fault, how Anakin is responsible for his own choices, but he just gives you a new reason every time as to why it is his fault, how he could have stopped it. 
Because even in what he considers his worst failure, his verbiage is indicative of how it’s not his own image and pride hurting that he’s even considered. All of his thoughts, all of them, are on what Anakin needed that he didn’t give.
 At first, it’s just impressions from his mind, unsorted, blurry thoughts and feelings, but it eventually begins to become words. 
“After his mother died… I know that he blamed me. How couldn’t he? He told me of his dreams, dreams he knew were foresights, but I dismissed them, multiple times, at that. And the council… advised me against comforting him, but he… I… I did anyway.” His shoulders are forward, body sagging with unsureness that doesn’t fit him right in the slightest. “But it was far too late. I know there was something pivotal about the death of his mother, and I am...” he hesitates, seemingly not because he doesn’t know what to speak, but because he does. “Terrified. Terrified it’s all because I didn’t validate him sooner. If I had not...” His voice breaks off, as he shuts his eyes.
Fear is not something admired by the Jedi, you know. When he speaks of his own emotions, he speaks them like he’s confessing them.
 And as he confesses and confesses, you comfort where you can, cry with him when you cannot.
 *****
 The swells of sorrow ebb and flow in their intense bursts and receding stillness, and despite the moments of not being able to breathe under the weight of it, there are miniscule, almost violating, hysterical intervals where smiles and life spring to the surface, gasping for air. 
Or in this case, the inexplicable desire to dance. 
You don’t even really know when you start, simply going about cleaning clothing in the sonic washer, and the next, some ridiculous, repetitive tune sweeps you to move your hips and feet, uncoordinated and graceless. The tune itself played from a datachip, scrapped with some pieces Obi-Wan was repurposing to make repairs. You’re not even familiar with the type of music, and it’s hardly the type of music you’d normally choose, but you find that today, it’s an improvement on the quiet that falls upon the house as Obi-Wan works outdoors. 
The song swings into a bridge, and you slide across the stone floor, imitating something you saw in a music holo years ago, as you do, your foot catches on the rug you recently added, sending you fumbling for your footing. You eventually catch it before you fall, but as you look up, you decide to lower yourself to the ground anyway at the sight of Obi-Wan, leaning up against the door frame, watching you with an amused expression, the fingers of one hand tracing between his lips and chin.  
You sit splayed as tactless and gangly as you danced and let out a short, startled laugh. 
“Please, don’t stop on my account. I was quite enjoying myself.”  
Maker, could you just hide under the rug you tripped over? “Please tell me you haven’t been standing there long.”
He pushes off his lean on the wall, crossing the room to you. “I won’t tell you lies, my love.” 
Shame twists in your gut at his words, chasing the laughter in your throat away. But Obi-Wan extends a hand down, and you take it, letting him draw you to your feet. 
He kisses the back of your hand before taking it in his, extending the clasp out to the side of your bodies as his other hand rests hot on the small of your waist. 
“But I will join you, if you don’t mind a style change.” 
“I don’t know how to dance like this,” you say, factually.  
“Then allow me to teach you.” When you look in his eyes, they’re lined with the etches of heartache still, but there’s something else too, brimming to the surface. 
“What, to this music?” You give your last, unconvincing protest.  
He simply drops his forehead to yours, and the small sounds of the room fade to white as a sweet, moving melody replaces it. It’s not perfectly clear, and it takes a moment to realize that it’s because it’s coming from Obi-Wan’s memory.  
The music has a distant, foggy quality, and it has potential to be eerie, but instead, it just lifts you into an ethereal feeling.
He steps, and your feet follow, not as graceful, but he makes it easy for you, the steps hinted out in his thoughts before taking them in actuality. 
When you start to feel confident enough in the movements, you look up at him. “Does this mean I can teach you my dances next?”
He laughs, laughs, unabashed and with no emotion harbored under it, and some torn piece of your heart mends at the sound.
“Certainly not.” 
You laugh too, even at the thought of him trying. The laugher rolls into a smooth quiet, and you let yourself bask in the feel of his body against yours, the press of his hand on your back as you rest your cheek against him. 
Obi-Wan cradles you to him, forsaking the pattern of the dance as he encompasses you in his arms, lowering his lips to your cheek, then your mouth in a blazing kiss. 
He takes your hand in his, lifting it above your head. Then you’re guided into a spin, and the room spins double with it as you abandon all endeavors of trying to get the dance correct. Your hand drops protectively to your belly before you can even think better of it, and by the time you know you’re not going to throw up, it’s too late. You already feel Obi-Wan’s unmistakable concern right before he asks, “What’s wrong?” extending an arm out toward you. 
His complexion is ashen with worry, and when you don’t respond, you feel him start to reach out to your mind; a spike of panic zaps down your spine, and you’re suddenly not sure you’re not going to throw up after all. 
Your shields crash down, not enough time for subtlety, and he retracts both his hand and inquiring tendril of energy as hurt and confusion shape his features. 
You can’t do this. You can’t keep up this facade or cover this moment with a lie you know he’ll see through. But you can’t tell him either. After all the weight he’s carrying, the weight of the being that grows in you should be yours alone. You can’t thrust that upon him. 
But it’s a delusion that you can keep this from him forever. You’re going to hurt him one way or another, and the weight of your silence and lies multiply every day you insulate him from the truth. 
You take in a shuddering breath as dread settles into your bones. You know what you have to do.
Even as you slowly lower your shields, opening your signature, your mind screams at you in opposite directions, ripping you in half, and your hand shoots out to the nearest wall to stabilize yourself. How could you be so sadistic to tell him this? How could you not tell him? After all the trust you have in each other?
But he doesn’t take the invitation. “I will not touch your mind if you are still unsure you want me to,” he says softly but resolutely as he approaches you, but stays an unthreatening distance away, as if approaching a frightened animal. 
No, no, no. You won’t have him being the one to sturdy you through this. You need to be strong, be ready, don’t force him to coddle you through the blast to his own chest. 
So you dial down your own emotions and switch your absorption to amplifying the still tiny, barely recognizable life you’ve been carefully censoring ever since you heard it yourself.
You want to close your eyes, blockade the pain of both how it impacts him and how it will impact you, but that’s not how you two do things.
Summoning every iota of bravery and resolve running in your veins, you force yourself to look up at him as you watch understanding coat him. 
His eyes go wide, and his hands clench and flex at his sides in an erratic, nervous pattern. 
You can’t keep your signature open to his mind’s reaction, you just can’t. He’s seen enough, and you can put your shields up again. His face is enough to confront all on its own.
Obi-Wan steps toward you, slowly, dazed in a completely uncharacteristic way. With the way he seems to ever be prepared for the blows life throws at him, you hate how you have to be the harbinger for the second one that’s knocked him off his feet.
When he stops in front of you, he places his hands on either of your shoulders and looks into your eyes, searching for confirmation, and you nod, trying to not let fear seep into your expression.
One of his hands covers his mouth as he takes it in. 
And then he’s sinking in front of you, off of his feet indeed, and onto his knees. You want to follow, ready to hold him through the heartache sure to follow, at the second child he didn’t ask for while he still grieves the loss of the first. 
But his hands instead take purchase on your stomach, tightening the fabric of your tunic around the barely-visible bump before bunching it up and lifting, just enough so he can tilt his forehead against the skin there. 
You can feel him reaching out, not taking him long at all to find what he’s searching for, and curiosity beats self-preservation at the last moment, prompting you to open your mind again, just for you to be able to catch elation coursing through Obi-Wan.
You don’t even bother trying to stifle your confusion as he looks up at you with glassy eyes.
Sinking to your knees to meet him, you take his face in your hands, trying to make sense of it all as he takes your hand in his. “I never... “ when his voice comes out unsteady, he clears his throat and tries again. “I never thought I’d have... That we could… didn’t occur to me that now...stars above, how long have you known?”
You don’t recall when you start crying, but tears are falling freely down your cheeks as you shake your head. “I’m so sorry. I… I would never want to keep something like this from you, Obi-Wan, but I couldn’t tell you, not with everything, not with all you already have…and i’m so sorry.”
“Oh, heavens, no. You should not have to do this alone. Please don’t keep things from me, even if you think it to be for my sake. We can…”
You fix him with a pointed, unamused stare. He exhales as he must notice his hypocrisy. 
“Your point is well-put and taken, but the sentiment still stands. We’ll not keep secrets from each other anymore. Do we have an accord?”
Despite it all, you smile at his overly-formal phrasing, something you’d normally have a quip about if it weren’t for the concern still nagging at you.
“Are you not angry then? Or disappointed?” you watch him carefully, praying to any deity listening that he doesn’t concoct some half truth to placate you. His first instinct is always to protect, but you’d never want it at expense of his authenticity. 
Bafflement marks his brow at first, then he takes your face in his hands. “Darling, no.” He says your name, gathering every bit of your attention. “I dreamt of you. During the war, when I was away. I did not sleep well, even then, but when I did, I’d sometimes dream of you, holding a child that I knew to be ours. When I woke, I would remember it so vividly, so painfully, because I never thought that was an attainable future for us.”
But that doesn’t need to matter if you… do you want this child?” His eyes are so full of hope, and it was the last thing you expected, but here he is laying it down on the altar of your preference, and maker, are you glad those two things aren’t opposing each other. 
Because his hope and yours are one in the same, and once he knows it too, at your whispering, choked, “yes,” he’s clutching you in his arms.
And for the second time in a month, you’re both huddled on the ground in tears. The first, bowing under the mass of catastrophe. Now, at the glowing relief of the sprouting of a dream sown in tears, too tender before to even say aloud.
But now? You’re saying it, back and forth, from him to you as your walls fall, permitting him into your mind as he welcomes you into his, and finally you take true comfort once again in the home you’ve built in each other. 
*******
The night after, you lie side by side, hand in hand, on a blanket splayed not far from the hut. The suns have sunken, but the pinks and oranges of their palette still paint the sky where it hasn’t yet turned to midnight cobalt. The light of the lantern gives off a similar hue, dousing everything in your reach in soft, warm hues.
It has taken Obi-Wan some convincing, being so out in the open with everything he had to worry about wasn’t his first choice, but you compromised for a small alcove in the rock formations which surrounded you on two sides. More easily defensible. Not that he needed it, but if he was cautious before, it was borderline unbearable now. With the added danger of the Empire knowing without doubt that he lived.  With more than ever to lose. 
So, he was in charge of safety, you were in charge of snacks. And if they so happened to be almost entirely comprised of those melons you couldn’t quite get enough of lately? That was no one’s business except yours. You brought a few things you knew Obi-Wan liked too, of course. 
What little remains of the miscellaneous spread you push to the edge of the blanket so you can both lie down. 
“I dare say it’s almost pleasant out tonight.”
You turn your head to him, a snort ready at him discussing the weather of all things, but it instead forms a cloud in your throat at the sight of him. 
His eyes are closed, hair rustling in the slight evening breeze, a tranquil ease over his profile. 
The small patches of grey in the part of his beard next to his ears catch the first glints of moonlight in a way the rest of his hair doesn’t, giving them away. 
The mellisonant lowness of his voice brings you back to yourself, cheeks heating. 
“I can feel you staring, little one.”  He opens his eyes, leisurely rolling to his side. “Some say it’s quite impolite.” Slanting over you, he lifts a brow, daring your response.
“And is that a problem?” You look up at him through your eyelashes, feigning innocence. 
Obi-Wan’s gaze follows back up to the stars, as he plays right along, pretending to have to think on it. “I suppose it depends.” 
“On?”
“On whether or not you allow me to return the impropriety,” he responds with a coy smile, moving back to you, so close now you can feel his exhales on your cheek. 
Warmth blooms through you as you answer back, “You can always look, Obi-Wan.” You lift yourself to close the short distance between your face and his, pressing your lips together, which he deepens right away. Using the hand not supporting half his body off of you still, he fans out his fingers across your belly, towing the line between caressing gently and clutching protectively. 
You pull your lips back from his as an uninvited slither of insecurity slips into your chest. 
He senses it, of course, so you speak before he even needs to ask. “Are you really, truly, certain this is what you want? Now? I don’t want you to just say so because…and we could wait, we have...”
“I am,” he says, adamantly, before you even have a chance to finish. His eyes flash to the side. “I…” He rolls back onto his back, looking straight up as he talks seemingly half to you, half to himself. “There is not much I know for certain these days. Some days… I scarcely can remember who I am anymore.” 
He turns his eyes back to you, unwavering. “There are seldom few things I haven’t questioned of late, and my love for you isn’t one of them. And from the moment I’ve known, from the very first instant you let me feel the life within you, my love for them hasn’t been one either.” 
Your thoughts split into two, one wanting to lean into it, to take him for his word that’s always true, and the other cautioning you, telling you to keep distant and watch for the surface level honesty he gives that hides the brutal one he safeguards you from. 
But you’re not hiding anymore, feelings unconcealed in your energy and on your face, so he leans back into you, grasping your arm in his hand, squaring your shoulders to him. You cringe at yourself when you know he’s heard the impression of you questioning. It’s redundant, but self-doubt always is. “Know, please know, my darling.” Taking your hand in his, he brings it up to his temple with an insistence that you have no desire to counter. 
And it’s there. Right there and sparking in its clarity, right at the threshold of his mind as you enter it. How much he means his words, no holds barred, no cleverly crafted glazes to an unly underbelly of reality. His reality was this, how severely he craves starting a family with you. How much he already loves the being within you, how he looks forward to the day he gets to hold them in his arms. 
The fear is there too, quiet, but not kept from you. The fear of failing as a father, unsure of assuming any role that resembled a mentor again, all-too-familiar with the ghost that will float over him in every lesson he teaches. 
What shocks you there is his faith in you. In how much he’s already learned from you about the impact of open affection, in how you don’t let your feelings lead you, but you let them breathe, not suffocate them. It’s part of how he even can acknowledge his fears to himself and to you without berating himself under the too-simple phrase “fear leads to the dark side.” There’s truth in it, but also inaccuracy. 
Because he’s afraid, and yet, there is so much light in the acknowledging of it to himself, and in that very act, it loses much of any power it could have had over him. Oh, how deeply he wishes he could have articulated that understanding to Anakin. 
The pain is fresh, but so is his anticipation for the future, swirling together in a potent drink, and his throat bobs with the effort to swallow them down simultaneously. 
He knows you’ll help ground him through it, he trusts you, even in his uncertainty in himself.
It breaks your heart but also warms it: the knowledge that he lets you into that place where he keeps the questions of himself, the place only you and the man who’s caused most of this doubt have been permitted. 
 With a thankful short farewell, you part from his mind as you know exactly what you want to do.
The remains of your snacks still rest on the edge of the blanket, including the shells of the deep purple-pigmented melons. The one draw-back to their delightful taste was how badly they stained your fingers. You had to break them into tiny pieces, plopping them into your mouth without allowing them to touch your lips unless you wanted your mouth to stain too. 
But right now? The staining quality was just what you needed. 
Although first you needed a blank canvas. 
“May I take your tunics off?” you ask, sitting up. 
Despite a short twitch of confusion and then interest, Obi-Wan follows, raising himself up into a kneel, slightly lifting his arms in compliance. 
The paleness of his skin catches all the light of the lantern, highlighting your view as you slowly slide the fabric up and off, gliding your hands up the line of hair dipping below his navel as it becomes more exposed. It grants you a quiet, steep intake of breath from him and you suddenly give halt momentarily, distracted by the alluring appetite you’ve created. 
No, you won’t give in. Not yet. He needs to know this. 
You take one of the broken pieces of melon rind in your hand, where little tart bits of the fruit still cling, dribbling pigment, but before your finger makes contact with the taut skin of his chest, you pull back at the realization you might have bitten off more than you can chew. 
How do you even begin to describe him? Obi-Wan is so many things at once, so many attributes, and every descriptor that comes to mind falls blatantly short of him. 
Then you recall Obi-Wan going through the motions of Alchaka, watching his body fight to maintain the poses at times. Being such a personal practice, you felt honored that he let you see him go through the exercises, and even more honored that he opened up to you about the purpose behind it later. It was an exercise of both physicality and Force use, and the goal was absolute exhaustion. That was the destination. Trying, knowing from the start that he’ll fall short in the end, but doing it all the same. Because there’s so, so much to be said for the trying.
So you do. You bring the messy fingertip to his clavicle, smearing the first word you know to absolutely be true of him, as if starting the premise with a whisper of I know you’re even more than the sum all of these singular praises. 
The word “complex” appears in your penmanship on his skin as you drag it to life. You look up to his eyes, and his curiosity is clear there, but also so is the tenderness that is elemental to any time he looks at you. And just like that, you have your next word.
Kind.
And at the way he flushes so lovely for you at that?
Beautiful. 
You feel his protest before you see it, the objection in his signature, and you know you’re going to have to switch methods. 
Just then, a droplet from where you’ve written the last word on his pectoral falls, down, down, threatening toward the hem of his trousers, but you’re fast, dropping your mouth down and catching it all on your tongue before it can stain the bleached beige of his remaining clothing. 
When his stubborn revolt at the affirmation quiets in his mind in exchange for a flash of searing lust, you know exactly how you’re going to continue. 
Because Obi-Wan Kenobi, general, warrior, negotiator, Jedi Master, legend, has rarely ever been affirmed as such, and he squirms under the thick blanket of his humility and deprivation anytime someone endeavors. 
So you need his mind to be preoccupied enough, guards down low enough, so he can even hear the message get through.
When you place your hands over his waistband, locking eyes in inquiry, stopping when he hesitates, scanning the area around you, vigilant as always. Overly so now. 
“We’re alone. And wouldn’t you be able to sense it if we weren’t?” 
He looks down at you as he answers. “If I stay mindful enough to do so, yes.” 
Good, he’ll be even less prone to fight you if he has some of his mind sensing outward.
You look back up at him with the facial equivalent of asking “well?” to which Obi-Wan sighs in response. “Very well then.”
With your familiarity with ridding him of clothing, it only takes moments before you can finally taste him where you want to, where he’s already hard and swollen for you. 
 You know you won’t be able to take him as much as you want, a recently-developed overactive gag reflex preventing you. But it just so happens to be convenient tonight, as the resulting taunt should have him right where you want him.
A gentle kiss, right to the head of his cock is all the warning you give him before taking the whole tip in your mouth, swirling your tongue around him, pulling a choked hum deep from his throat. 
Oh, oh, Maker, have you done a grand miscalculation, because you forgot an entire factor in this equation: the way you have been borderline hysterical in hunger for him.
You’ve kept so much from him, and part of how you’ve even managed is starting to convince yourself of less than fact. Facts like how many times you’ve had to change underthings recently, physical evidence of desire unwilling to comply to your head’s demands. Facts like how you’ve literally had to bite your finger to keep the feelings at bay. 
You’d expected changes in your body even before your belly grew, but this was one you hadn’t anticipated. In some ways, it wasn’t that different than usual. You never knew you could want someone with the breadth that you want Obi-Wan. 
But this? Of late? It feels like it’s been amplified tenfold. 
You’re not keeping any cards close to your chest anymore, but you do have to ignore your own body’s screaming cries as you complete this.
He needs to know. 
Nerves still serenading his brain with feedback, you re-wet your finger with the purple juice and write the next words across his abdomen. 
Wise.
Perceptive.
He’s caught on to your scheme by now, cued by the all-too appropriate addition of the last word, and he lets you know it, an impression projected, speechless but still unobstructed. He’s still powerless against it. Or rather, letting himself be powerless. Trusting you with the control he has left, trusting you in his vulnerable places. The places where he’s weak.
Strong.
The word spread over his right upper arm, where he’s obviously just that. But may the tint of the word bleed through his skin, may it run through his veins, because that’s how deep and deeper still that his strength runs. It’s in the way he doesn’t flaunt it. It’s in the way he chooses to wield it. 
Gentle. 
He closes his eyes, flinching at the onslaught of acclamation, and you dip your head down again, wrapping your lips around his cock, letting him slide to where you can take him comfortably, just starting to build a pace as his hips squirm in harmony with his suddenly erratic breaths. Oh, how you’d love to let him deeper, allow his cock past your lips beyond the teasing amount you can take now, but the little writhes his body gives in protest are enough to almost make you okay with how your mouth won’t agree with your ambitions. He says your name, groaned out in bliss as he cups a hand on your cheek.
His barriers are down, so it’s easy to hear when his deprecating thoughts quiet again, and you switch back to coloring him again. 
You know the moment you look up at him that it’s a mistake, because he’s flushed, so torn, suspended in the limbo of your give and withdrawal, mouth ever so slightly open, tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip. 
You’re only human, so before you draw anything else, you bring your lips to his, which is yet another mistake, because among the many things Obi-Wan is, he is a deep kisser, and as his tongue delves into your mouth, your will power takes a devastating blow. 
You pull back, reeling at the reminder of how easily he can take back control, knowing you have to complete this before you let him. 
Stars, how you want to let him. 
For now, you need that control back, so you take him into your mouth again, filthily wet and not nearly long enough as you quickly pull back, watching in satisfaction as he heaves forward at the loss, correcting himself quickly back into straight posture. 
With a smirk, you drag your slippery, pigmented finger across his lower stomach. 
Disciplined.
There’s so many more words, so much more he needs to know, and if you covered every inch of his skin in the smallest writing it still wouldn’t be sufficient of all that he is. 
Or you could whisper it all through the Force, embed it all in his mind. 
But because you’ve been there, know his mind inside and out, you know every time he sees his own skin, all he sees is the red of blood on his hands. The blood of his brother. 
And that’s exactly why you’re going to stain it in your own colors. Take back territory and push back the front lines that the army of guilt has taken over on him. 
Your Jedi, ever-adorned in unassuming beige, now drips in the color of royalty.
Charming.
Humble. 
Confident. 
Steadfast. 
You’re only left with enough space for one more word, and you want some sort of conclusion to it all, something to summarize the expanse of the man kneeling in front of you. 
Nothing can. 
But maybe, just maybe, one word encapsulates what he is to you. 
Treasure. 
This time you do chant it across his thoughts, prompting him to open his eyes and look at you.
Cerulean blue blinks open, slowly, almost painfully and nearly overflowing with emotion. 
Thank you, is all he says, unable or unwilling to say it out loud, much too heartfelt and newly-budded for that.
You know his pain has older roots than those tended to in this moment, but you vow to yourself that you’ll never stop trying. 
Lowering your mouth around him once again, you don’t tease him anymore, at least not intentionally, even though you still can’t take more than half of him. 
“Look at you, you’re…” he hisses in a breath as you swipe your tongue against that vein on the underside of him. “Stunning. You’re doing so well, little one.” 
The taste of him compels you as much as his words, seizes you in spice-like addiction, and how interesting it’s going to be explaining that taste craving to him, among your sudden adoration for those damn melons. 
“Darling, I’m…” 
You feel it in his energy before he says it, already pulling off, replacing your mouth with your hand, dropping your lips down even lower, mouthing at his balls, and the feedback is instant. An outpouring crest of his pleasure blasting outward as he lets out a depraved moan, netting his hands into your hair.
Your hand is wet and so is where he’s spilled on his still flexing and releasing stomach, clear white maring the lettering halfway through “disciplined.” You’d clean it with your tongue if you weren’t sure how your overly sensitive taste buds would react now. 
It’s not the first time you’ve had sex since you’ve known you were pregnant, but it’s the first time since he’s known, and it’s the first time you’re not hiding the symptoms. Before, you carefully shied away from anything that might give you away, and between the preoccupation of everything on his own mind he was trying to keep from you and his respect for your boundaries, he never pressed. He had questions in his eyes, but you knew how to carefully reveal partial vulnerabilities to keep him off your trail.
Your chest flares at the memory.
We’re not hiding now. 
It’s your chant, your reminder, your comfort. How nothing of this caliber will be kept between you again.
His eyes confirm it, sincere and exact as they fight to break through their dazed slipping. 
Never again. His voice in your head is home, so consoling it can and has put you to sleep before. 
Right now, it wakes you up in a different light, dowsing you in heat as Obi-Wan takes your hand in his, wiping it on a piece of his discarded clothing before wiping the spend off himself. 
Then he’s taking your face in both his hands tilting you up before kissing you soundly. 
I love you, he says across the wire that ties your minds, the wire that keeps growing stronger every day. So, so very much.
You say it back, a fact as simple as breathing. You love him.
You want him, borderline need him the way you need your next inhale, you don’t say, but he must hear it anyway, because that cocky little smirk that’s been gone far too long is back.
“Shall we do something about that?”
You’re about to just lift your shift dress up and off in response, but he halts you, grasping your wrists. 
“Allow me.” 
He pulls you into another sultry kiss, completely neglecting the task of ridding you of clothing.
Or so you think.
There’s buttons all the way down the dress, and you’ve never used them, always wondering at their purpose if it can so easily lift over your head. 
At first, you don’t even know he’s doing it until you start to feel the coolness of the night air on your nipples. Opening your eyes, you pull back from him to watch as seemingly in thin air, your buttons undo themselves. 
“You needn’t seduce me further. You already know how much I need you,” you gasp, breathless from the kiss.
Obi-Wan just gives a small smile as he drops a hand, dragging it down your side, then down your thigh. “Hm. So impatient. All this from just pleasuring me?”
Maker, he knows! He knows that you are. You always have been, and it’s not as if you weren’t projecting your feelings too.
When he reaches a hand between your thighs, parting them and making a single, tempting stroke through them, his fingers come back glistening. 
“I should think you could feel that I am.” You let the tide of your frustration spill over into your connection to his mind. 
You know he had to hear you, but he gives no indication that he did. 
“Mm. Desire needn’t always be indicatory of impatience,” he punctuates his statement with a hand at the base of your skull, tipping your head back to expose your neck. “I need you to be patient, little one. Let me savor you.” And with that, his mouth makes contact with your neck at the same time his other hand plays with one of your exposed nipples. 
You whimper at the attention, quietly pleading with him for more. Among the still slight changes to your body, this has been the most notable one. How sensitive your breasts have become to even the scrape of the fabric of your clothing. 
And with the rough pads of his fingers working only one, leaving the other to pang in want...
“Obi-Wan,” it’s a prayer, a request. He doesn’t need his hands to cause sensation, and you’d beg him right now if he asked. 
He lets up on your neck, only barely, lips moving against the now throbbing skin. “Answer me first.” 
Clearing your throat, you give the most cogent response you can muster. “Depends on if you’re definition of savor is synonymous with torture.”
He locks eyes with you then, gently grasping a breast in each of his hands, dragging his thumbs over the nipples as you moan out your assent.
His chuckle is far too self-satisfied to be becoming of a Jedi, but you’re already too far gone to call him on it. 
“Is that what you want, little one? For me to torture you so?”
An affirmative whimper is all the response you can give, and Obi-Wan reacts quickly, taking your chin in his fingers and tilting your eyes up to his again. 
“Then you will be patient for me. Because I’m always happy to stop, and we can begin again when you decide to adhere.”
Your brain short circuits on the spot, and all energy is redirected much, much lower. His voice, stars above, his voice when it takes a commanding tone. 
It’s intimate, it’s personal, and yet this game is almost inappropriately playful for how sincere the moment is. 
But such was being loved by Obi-Wan. Full of dissimilar feelings that shouldn’t fit, but moved together in liquid consistency. Like metaphors that didn’t rhyme but still somehow gave their own life-giving rhythm, not dissimilar to the sound of his heartbeat when you lay your head against his chest at night. 
Making quick work of the remaining buttons of your shift and underwear, he beckons you to join him as he lies back down, large, warm hands guiding you to turn around so you’re facing away from him. 
You know that the purple stickiness of the fruit will smear from his body to yours like this, but you can’t at all bring yourself to care. 
You gasp a sigh of relief as one of his hands finds your breast, brushing a knuckle over the too-sensitive nipple. 
“Please.” Your whispered beg sounds pathetic, even to your own ears. But as you arch against him in a frenzied attempt at skin contact, Obi-Wan juts his hips forward, grunting into the exposed column of your neck, and stars, yeah, maybe he didn’t find that so pathetic after all. 
“What do you want, darling?” His voice doesn’t divulge any desperation, and for only the hundredth time do you envy his immaculate self-control. 
“You know, don’t pretend you don’t.” Leaving any doubt to the wind, you push your chest against his barely-touching hand. 
“Specificity can be a virtue; that I also know.” 
You change techniques, driving your hips back softly into where he’s hard and insistent against your ass, hoping it compels him. 
Then you simply… can’t anymore. You’re frozen, unable to move your lower half at all. 
Tangling your desires into a knot and tucking it away, you find the mindfulness to reply. “Yeah, so is mercy.” 
“Indeed it is. I shall concede when you do.”
You won’t win a battle of the wills with him. You’re not sure anyone could.
So you bring his hand over to your nipple. “Touch me here.” 
You feel his smile without even seeing it as he starts tweaking the bud. “Like this?”
It’s so much sensation, all concentrated on such responsive flesh, that you want to beg for him to switch to touching you between your legs.
You haven’t even finished the thought when you feel his unmistakable metaphysical brush against your thigh.
Extending a tendril of your own energy, you invite him in, and he takes it eagerly, ever as eager if not more to be entwined with your mind as with your body. 
He hears it all, the besottment, the arousal, the neediness. The panic that he might drag this out longer, that you’ll have to go a single minute longer without...
“It’s alright. It’s alright.” He sends soothing waves through your connection, and he swaps the positioning of his hand with the curl of power. He turns his hand so that the back of it runs through where you’re aching for him, gathering up your slick on the backs of his knuckles. You have to contort your neck to see what follows when he takes the hand back behind you, and your mouth goes dry when he sucks the knuckles in between his lips. 
You want to hear, you want to know what he’s…
He’s welcoming you in, navigating you to the brink of his mental barriers, letting you take that final plunge into the unsuppressed fullness of your bond to each other.
Now it’s your turn to hear it: how his carefully constructed unaffected persona is not at all a match for his naked, wanton need for you. 
And under that, the foundation on which that desire is built, not the product of it, is his love, his unyielding, unashamed, iridescent love for you. 
It’s all you can do but to pour it back, affirming and soothing and calling his love into action with your own. 
You both don’t want anything else except the most complete of entanglement, and that’s exactly what he moves to do, situating your bodies, hiking your top leg in the crook of his arm as you feel the initial breach of his body into yours, and all breath leaves your lungs in an exhilarating evacuation.
His audible gasp is an echo of his emotions, how he thinks he’s prepared for this onslaught of feeling, but how you take him off guard, how his equilibrium threatens to teeter every time. 
The web of his consciousness enveloping you, it’s easy to pick out a single thought blaring within him: How much he adores the way you fit together. Your back against his chest, how your breast fits in his hand, how the snug joining of where his cock presses into your body sends you into trembles, how comforting your very presence is to his soul when he lets you in like this. 
Tears, without warning, seep out of your eyes as he starts to move against you, slow and deep. You close your eyes, willing the powerful emotion away, but glimmers of light flash out behind our closed lids the moment you do, and how the kriff does he stay composed? 
Anchor. Anchor against me. 
He stills, letting you have a break from the barrage of pleasure blinding you as you search him out, looking for the cords of his intellect that seemingly both steam downward and beam upward, grounding him.
You find it, and you clasp on tightly.
But the moment he starts moving again, you lose sight of it all over again.
Your heightened hormones make your flesh so susceptible, and the tears start to fall again. Obi-Wan rolls your nipple in between his thumb and index, and he’s so good, and you’re so full, and you can hear his pleasure as your own, adding, doubling everything…
Scorching, electrifying heat speeds through your veins, hitting hard and fast, leaving you astounded and even more sensitive than before. 
Obi-Wan’s signature spikes as your climax resounds through him, and you can feel the vibration of the wanton noises he’s making right where his beard scratches against your neck. 
But he doesn’t allow it to overtake him, letting it run through him without resistance, making himself pliable but unmovable, keeping himself back from the edge. 
You still have much to learn.
Because that control? Gives him the ability to not even stop, not even hesitate once, even at both yours and his own ecstasy flowing through him.
When he starts striking his hips hard into yours, the weight of him inside you dragging exactly in the right place, you start to cry in earnest. Obi-Wan stops for a millisecond, concern radiating off of him, even when he can hear how much you want this so clearly, has access to every little passing thought. 
“Don’t stop, I’m fine, I pro…” He does just as asked while moving his hand down to your belly again, a soothing touch to his rough thrusts. Your eyes are blurred with wetness, overwhelmed with him. 
He’s listening to it all, applying every micro-feeling of feedback into action against your desperate, post-orgasmic skin, hand switching back and forth from your nipples to loosely clutching your neck, Force energy focused on applying pressure to your clit. 
“You’re doing so well, so good for me,” comes the wisp of his sultry tone, lips pressed against your ear. 
Since you aren’t even thinking about changing position, you know it’s his own preference that has him withdrawing, guiding you onto your back. 
There’s no inhibition this way, not the way there is when you’re on your side, no separation from your bodies being flush when he pushes into you again. You have to anchor in him, both mentally and with your fingernails clawing at his shoulder blades as your body starts into tremors.
He’s keeping the weight of his chest off of you, even though your belly is still barely swollen into distinguishable roundedness, and as much as you miss the contact, you can look into his eyes like this, can see the unfiltered attachment and all the weight of all the emotion he wills his body to not cave under. 
But then the tremoring transforms into series of contractions throughout your body, centering through your slick core, and you thrash your head to the side catching a glimpse of Obi-Wan’s fingers clenching into white knuckles, grasping into the exposed sand from the blanket being bunched up. 
He projects his thoughts across the tether to you,  how thoroughly impacted by the very fact you’re carrying his child, how affected he is by every little thing about you, honored that he’s allowed to touch you like this. 
You roll your hips back up into his, and that’s what it takes. His stuttering body is the lightning, and the searing, molten pleasure across your connection is the thunderous repercussion. 
It completely overthrows you, and your body bows against him as his high instantly cues yours again.
You can feel him throb inside you at the very moment you do, his turn to experience the secondary sensory white-out of your mate’s climax through the Force, his shuddering shout meeting your breathy whines in the close distance between your mouths. 
And he does kiss you then, soundly but with the haze of afterglow slowing it. 
“Have you any idea how bewitching you are to me?” He breathes it out, and despite all the ways you’d normally scoff at such words, his eyes tell the story, and you listen to it’s truth. 
His eyes hold that constant infiltrating study of you, the one that could be unnerving if his mind, still tethered to yours didn’t hold such amor, heart bleed such fondness that settles in the creases around his eyes. 
How interesting it is watching someone as knowledgeable as him having such an inquisitive outlook on life, and being so frequently the object of those investigations. 
Did the galaxy know her debt to him? Did she know the sum owed to inflicting the worst of life’s pains on someone who refused to let it build anything except an even gentler man of himself? When does she plan on repaying him? What does she offer in exchange for her cruelty of the hand she’s dealt Obi-Wan Kenobi?
Then the whisper comes, soft but crisp, from somewhere in the threads of existence around you, “Can’t you see? It’s you, child.” 
You could argue it. You could scream how it’s not enough, how you’re not enough,  how he deserves so much more from some dark insecure place inside you. Or how love shouldn’t be treated as currency in exchange for pain, how the galaxy could still have your fists if that was how it tallied. 
But the finality of it settles in your soul, more impressionistic than in solid wording: there is no easy conclusion that ties the suffering of life into purpose, no experience that erases or mends its pain. But love. Love makes the complicated endeavor of trying to find purpose in the madness worthwhile.  
Obi-Wan’s hum of agreement resounds in your ears and through to your head. His Force signature feels so familiar, so at home within yours and yours within his, that you’d briefly forgotten he could still hear you. 
With all the strength still left in quaking limbs, you wrap your arms around him, and he melts into it. 
The compassion of his soul hardly matches his war-ravaged skin, his guilt-ridden memories. Every good thing here came to be with a war waged, refined and not burnt away in fire at his sheer tenacity. 
It’s a growing thing, blooming in the desert. The beliefs in both of you. Your love for each other. Your own trust in the Force. 
Healing is no short journey, but her two sojourners here are determined.
And if that tender hope can blossom here?
Then maybe, just maybe: Tatooine is exactly the place for a baby after all. 
*********
In the valley beyond the hut, a boy jets quickly away in some mechanical contraption he recently motorized, a girl in a similar vehicularized compilation of junk not far behind. 
On the cliff’s edge stands Obi-Wan, eyes scanning the landscape intermittently for any sign of threat between longer affectionate looks at the children before him.
He turns, feeling your approach in his keen awareness as you set a hand on his shoulder from behind. His temples are now even thicker with sun-bleached silver, and his eyes wield the lines of laughter around them. 
And you? You’re as roped in by his gravitational pull as you’ve always been. 
He puts a hand over yours, clasping it to bring you in front of him, where he can still watch the children and encase you in his arms at the same time. 
“Slow down, Luke! You’re going too fast!” comes the distressed cry of your daughter, Ahlina, drawing your attention away from admiring Obi-Wan and back to the valley. Her vowels curl in the same way her father’s does, but her more casual phrasing was certainly thanks to you. Luke shouts back at her, “Come on, keep up!” while he races on ahead.
Obi-Wan smiles, seemingly amused at a secret joke. 
“They are much too young for this nonsense still,” he speaks, muffled slightly as he hides his lips in your hair. 
“Probably,” you reply with an airy laugh.
Not long after, the engine on Luke’s small contraption gives out, jutting him off and tumbling forward into the sand. 
“I told you!” Ahlina yells, her own machine coming to a halt not far away from Luke. 
When they make it back up the cliff, Obi-Wan couches and opens his arms, and they both come running with smiles. They’re still young enough to be unshy about affection, and Obi-Wan knows to soak it up, closing his eyes in relishment. 
Luke is the first to wiggle down, waving before running over to hug your leg, which you happily return, brushing some of the blonde mop of hair from his forehead. You adored the nights that the Lars let him sleep over. 
Although the nights that Ahlina slept over at theirs certainly had their allure too. 
“Can we have a snack, Daddy?” Ahlina asks, still happy to be hoisted up on one of his arms. 
“Hm. Perhaps I can make some of those ahrisa sweet breads again?”
She wrinkles her nose. “Can Mommy make them?”
“Why not mine?”
“Because you always burn them.”
He bops a finger lightly on her nose with a smile. “Cheeky.”
She goes to bop him on his nose in return, but he catches the finger, holding it. 
“Give it back!” she screeches through a giggle. 
“No, no. I think I’ll keep it now.” 
The suns are dipping low as you retreat into the hut, the two children running ahead, racing to gather the ingredients to help you bake the bread. Luke especially was an enthusiastic sous-chef. 
You step to follow them, but Obi-Wan grasps your hand. You turn back to him, and he barely gives you a second before he joins his mouth to yours. Sliding a hand into the auburn beard, you open your mouth to him, letting his familiar taste permeate your senses. 
He reluctantly breaks after a long moment, and you take his hand in yours. When you turn back to the horizon, the suns are dipping, blanketing the landscape in the most celestial light of the day. 
The planet’s eyes aren’t harsh in the way you used to see them. They’re still intense, and frequently unforgiving. 
Perhaps they never changed. Maybe only you did.
But as they sink now, you give a silent, partial farewell, knowing they’ll greet you again in the morning. 
Because if Dark’s patience is infinite? 
So is the promise of the return of the Light. 
Tagging upon request: @million-dollar-legs
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aka-ashi-keiji · 3 years
Text
“i can’t hear you”
Bakugou Katsuki x best friend reader
soft angst
tw: screaming, emotional meltdown.
short fic about bakugou and you’re his childhood best friend, and you help him through dealing with his hearing loss. enjoy lovies.
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You woke up to the sound of your mother knocking on your door and yelling, “y/n wake up, you have training today with katsuki. i love that boy but i am not in the mood to deal with his explosive attitude over you being late .” You lived right next door to katsuki all your life and since your moms were best friends, you guys were best friends since you learned how to walk. Every saturday you guys would train from 8 AM to noon in his garage since it was basically a mini gym, and then after you both would head over to your house. You checked the time on your phone on the bedside table and it read 7:50. “SHIT MOM WHY DIDN’T YOU WAKE ME UP SOONER” you yelled as you jumped out of bed and quickly found a black tank top and grey sweatpants to train in. You could hear your mom chuckling as she walked away from your door. You grabbed your headphones, phone, water bottle, and Nike’s before yelling a goodbye and dashing over to Katsuki’s front yard. 
You knocked on his door four times so that his family knew it was you. You were halfway through slipping your shoes on when Mitsuki answered. She yawned and pulled you into a side hug. “Good morning y/n, you hungry?” She asked as she closed the door behind you guys and started towards the kitchen. “No thanks Mitsuki, I don’t like to train on a full stomach. My mom is making a huge lunch though, you guys are welcome to join us.” You said cheerfully, but kept your voice low since it was very early and you could tell Katsuki’s mom was still half asleep. She nodded and then whipped her head to face you wearing a look on her face as if she had just remembered something very important. “Kat has been very on edge lately and not very responsive this week.” She paused before starting again and turned her gaze to the floor, almost as if she didn’t want to talk. “I think it might have to do with his hearing. He won’t admit it, but I think his quirk is finally starting to affect him. Good thing we put him in those sign language classes as a precaution.” she laughed dryly and then turned back to look at you. “Just, take it easy him with the teasing today okay? and maybe try speaking a little louder. I’ll go see if he’s ready” and with that she gathered herself up the stairs and disappeared. 
You thought silently as you waited, and all of a sudden it made sense. Lately at school bakugou has been yelling more than usual, and telling everyone to speak louder. Maybe he was yelling more to be able to hear himself? You didn’t know. Bakugou has been learning sign language since he was 7 years old as a precaution for this and has been regularly signing while he talks since he was 10. So, bakugou using his sign language all the time wasn’t uncommon, but maybe Mitsuki was right. You made a mental note not to say anything until you actually noticed a big change in your guys’ training. You waited patiently for about another 10 minutes before Katsuki finally came downstairs. 
“Hey idiot, nice outfit.” Katsuki greeted you in his groggy morning voice, his hands signing his words lazily. You looked down at the tank top and sweatpants you were wearing and looked back to him, you both were wearing the same exact thing. “Morning pom pom” you greeted back as you gathered your things and started to head towards the garage. You turned around to see bakugou staring into nothing, so you called out. “Hey kat, you coming?” No response. You repeated yourself, but this time loud enough you were sure you woke his dad. He whipped his head towards you and nodded before following along. As you were walking down the hall, you turned to him and asked, “You okay?” while signing your words. Katsuki looked down at your hands and his cheeks started to dust with the lightest shade of pink. He huffed and his red eyes sparked as he just growled out a ‘yeah’ and walked ahead of you into the garage, starting to set up for your session. You yourself had picked up sign language at a young age because your dad was deaf because his quirk was being able to shoot sonic booms from his hands. you pressed the button to open the garage door and let some light in. You then walked over to the speakers and plugged your phone in as you hit play on your playlist specifically for training days. Bakugou stopped setting up the bench press station and yelled, “Can you turn it up? “ as he signed quickly, but then went back to putting the weights together. You turned back to the speaker only to be surprised since the volume was already almost at max capacity. You shook your head and turned the volume all the way up. This session should be interesting. 
It was around 9:30 AM at this point and you and Kat had finished weights and went on a 2 mile run. You were currently sitting on the floor stretching your quads as the loud techno music boomed around you. You glanced over at katsuki who was stretching on the other side of the garage and he seemed to be in a whole other universe. You called out to him, but he didn’t do so much as flinch. You picked yourself up off the floor and slowly walked towards him. You called a few more times and still got nothing from him, so you decided to turn off the music. As soon as you did Katsuki’s head shot up and his eyes darted towards you. “What the hell was that for dipshit? We’re gonna start sparring soon, we need it.” He said/yelled at you while you sauntered over to him and took a seat about a foot away from his now steaming body. You wiped the sweat from your forehead with the back of your arm before talking to katsuki, well you didn’t exactly talk with your voice, you were mostly signing. “Katsuki are you sure you’re okay? You’re not responding when I call out for you.” You waited for his response as his eyes stayed on your hands that were once moving. This time he answered, but for some reason he didn’t sign. “If I tell you, you can’t tell a single soul you hear me dumbass? Not even my parents. “ You nodded your head and gently reach over to squeeze his hand four times, your guys’ way of saying I promise. He then began to talk, and signed very aggressively as he did so, and what he said was enough to shatter you into a million pieces. 
 “I’ve been struggling in a way lately,” he started, “I tried to cover it up by just yelling all the time hoping people would just think it was my normal behavior. But, really it was so i could he hear myself.” Katsuki let out a long breath and you could see his hands slightly shaking. “It started out last week as just a slight ringing, but it got louder every damn day. But, this week the ringing got quieter, and eventually everything around me started to sound like I was underwater. “ He looked up at you and your breath hitched, tears rolled down katsuki’s face as he held eye contact. He shook out his hands and took another shakey breath before he began, “I- I can barely hear you y/n! And its so frusturating.” the volume of his voice was rising, and you could see the pain he was feeling through his eyes and the tears that were now dripping down to his shirt. “I can’t hear your fucking voice damnit! It’s the only one that doesn’t drive me up fucking walls.  it terrifies me!” He was screaming at this point as his hands worked through the air to express his words. The tears came at a much quicker pace once he had stopped to breathe, and those tear turned into sobs as he curled in on himself. He tucked his knees to his chest and ducked his head into his arms as they wrapped around his legs. His shoulders and back shook as he cried, and for a moment you didn’t know what to do. You haven’t seen Katsuki cry since you both were 8 years old and he was playing with his quirk and accidently blasted your arm. He started crying as soon as he heard you wail in pain, and the lecture from his mother didn’t help in the slightest. You subconsciously reached up to rest your hand on the scar as you tried to think of what you could say to him.
 Katsuki leveled his head and looked up at you, and slowly reached his hand out, still crying quietly. For a second you didn’t know what he meant, but it soon clicked in your head and you took his hand in yours. you looked at him with teary eyes and signed, “How can i help?” He untucked his legs from his chest and moved closer to you. Then, before you could even register what was happening, Katsuki had his arms around your waist with his head on your shoulder. You froze, it had been quite some time since either of you had needed a hug like this. once your shock had subsided, you brought your hands to rest on his upper back and rubbed soothingly. He began to cry again, which then led to sobs just like they had before. You began to talk, whispering variations of ‘I’m here’ and ‘You don’t have to be scared’, only to remember that he probably can’t hear you. Seeing katsuki as vulnerable as this broke your heart, and single tear fell from your face. Katsuki could feel your jaw muscles moving against the side of his face, so he knew you were talking, but he couldn’t hear you. “I- i- i- I can’t hear! I can’t hear you! Y/n I can’t hear you, fix it please, please I hate this so much!” He screamed into your shoulder which luckily muffled it enough to not draw any attention from the neighbors. He gripped onto your waist tighter as he breathed long and hard breaths. “I’m so scared. I’m terrified of losing you.” He whispered. This had confused you so you gently placed your hands on his shoulders and put a bit of distance between you guys so he could see you signing. “What do you mean you’re gonna lose me? I’m not going anywhere.” You said and waited for his response. He brought his trembling hands up to start signing and began, “I’m scared that if i can’t hear you, I won’t hear you calling me for help when you’re in danger. What kind of hero am I if i can’t even save my best friend?” You took one of his hands in yours and began to sign with your other. “You’re gonna be okay, We’re both gonna get you through this. I know you, and you don’t take shit from no one. And I know damn well you’re not gonna let a little hearing loss get in the way of beating deku.” He laughed slightly at the last statement, and seeing his small smile was like the world coming off of your shoulders. “We’ll take you to the doctor, they’ll help you.” He shook his head at that and his angry glowering returned. “It’s not anything to be embarrassed about. And I’m sure your parents would do anything to help you become the hero you want to be.” You finished your monologue and squeezed his hand four times, promising him you’re not going anywhere. He smiled down at his hand and then brought his other one up to sign, “I love you shithead” and you signed back, “Yeah I know, I love you too Kat”.
 He began to stand up and Katsuki pulled you up with him.  He immediately pulled you into the tightest bear hug possible. No one knew, but Katsuki was the biggest hugger, and it was your favorite thing about him. You released your arms from his waist and he released his hold around your shoulders. You took the sides on his face in your hands, and pointed to your lips as a signal to read your words. He nodded his head, and in a volume Katsuki couldn’t hear, you said, “I can hear you, I can hear you.”. He nodded and smiled the most genuine smile you’d seen out of him in years. “You ready?” he signed, and you answered “for what?”. He smirked and was quiet for a few seconds before shoving you to the side a little and running off towards your house. “Race you!” he yelled, “First one there, is your mom’s favorite you loser.” Kat called again. You smiled and shook your head as you sprinted off after him, remembering this is the Katsuki that will be the #1 hero someday. 
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Note
Shouldn't you guys be trying to get a plan in place for what your gonna do with remus once you find him, and how your gonna capture a literal god? Not to mention he has not only de but probly close to 30 if not more agents on his side. Instead of you know bickering, like littel kids.
“I think you’ll find I’m rather efficient at multitasking,” Logan says. “I’ve had Remy maintain an eye on the news station broadcasting. So far their hasn’t appeared to be any sign of Agent Ekans or the brainwashed agents and SHIELD enemies. When we get to the location, I will engage the enemy and have Remy draw up a foolproof defense—” “What if Remy can’t?” Patton asks innocently.
Logan scoffs. “There would be no reason why he can’t. I created the software he uses to analyze enemies for this purpose. In fact you won’t even have to get out of the plane.”
“Why wouldn’t I leave the plane?”
“There wouldn’t be any need for your... outdated tactics.”
Patton laughs.
“I don’t see what is so entertaining.” Logan says.
“You want to rely solely on your computer,” Patton explains. “For someone so brilliant I thought you would have—”
Logan straightens his back, his eyes flashing with a challenge, “Have what?”
“The target is directly below,” The SHIELD provided pilot interrupts, reaching up to flick several switches.
Patton claps his hands together and then unbuckles his restraints. “Excellent! Then we can continue this conversation in just a moment!”
Logan’s head whips towards him, “Wait—!”
“War waits for no one,” Patton says in a light tone, offering a smile to the inventor as his hand hits the lever to drop the hanger door. And then before it’s even halfway open, he strolls towards it and flips himself through the opening into the empty air.
It feels like flying. Patton breathes in deep as the winds fight to tear him apart, the chill burning his cheeks in a way that the fire never had. He’s burned before; sometimes Patton feels like he’s still burning, but this cold is something so different he’d never confuse it for what being strapped to that table had been like. He locks his limbs together, holds his shield over his heart and dives through the air towards the battlefield below.
((Was this what the Soviet felt like? When he fell from that train?))
He flips at the last second, landing on the ground hard enough to break the cobblestone road under his feet, and holding his shield up to catch the glancing blow from the so-called god that definitely would have hit a citizen. The force of the blow knocked both of them back with a force that popped Patton’s eardrums.
“Hello!” Patton says with a smile, over his shield. “You must be Remus!”
Remus opens his mouth but before he can say anything there’s a loud screech that streaks through the air in a visible, physical wave and slams into him. Even Patton yelps as the man is knocked off his hit and goes flying into the stone wall of a nearby half crumbling building in a way that definitely should have broken all of his ribs. 
“Logan!” Patton shouts, glancing up to see the flying suit of armor, with the stern helmet in place to obscure exactly what Logan’s face looks like.
“Since you wanted to be here so badly, keep your eyes on him,” Logan’s voice comes out from it and gosh if that doesn’t feel like something out of a movie. Flying Robots, Gods, Siberia. 
Over the sound of screaming civilians, Patton distinctly hears some high pitched laughter— something that doesn’t sound humorous and definitely doesn’t sound happy. Remus staggers to his feet, swaying drunkenly from side to side, his horned crown slightly lopsided, and Logan lands on the ground next to Patton with his glowing palms at the ready.
“Remy, analyze,” the man says.
Remus of Vanir whistles, spinning his spear in his hand. “That eager to get in my pants? You could have just asked! X-rays take all the fun out of it!” He points the spear tip at them. “Tell me something… is your dick made of metal too?”
“Babes, his magic is off the charts. Literally.” Remy’s voice says. “I’m having trouble even locking in on him.” 
Patton smiles.
“Hmmm, then we have to do this with my outdated tactics,” Patton says, loosening his grip on his shield and spinning through his throw— which gosh if that didn’t feel great. After so long, the feeling of his shield leaving his hand, the muscle memory of his throws, the thumping of his blood in veins; it’s like excitement. It’s like being alive.
Remus shifts barely an inch to dodge the shield, letting it collide with the dented wall, bounce off the ground and ricochet back to Patton’s arm.
“Impressive,” Logan says, but Patton can’t tell with this robotic tone if he’s being made fun of or not.
“My, my, my,” Remus says, “Aren’t you two eager peepers! What happened to conversation, Mr. Blueskies, Mr. Hammer? You mortals still do that, right? Get to know each other before you try to kill each other?”
Logan’s palms glow brightly, and Patton feels his heart leap into his throat.
“How do you know that name?” Patton asks, feeling like his skin is a size too small. “That name…Tell me!”
“What? Blueskies?” Remus laughs. “Oh Captain, my Captain,” He grins, canines sharp and eyes ablaze, “Make me.”
Patton steps forward, shield front and center, and says, with every inch of calm rationality he does not feel, “Stand down and surrender,” He orders, and it sounds like a threat, a promise, “Or I will.” 
Remus twirls his spear in his hands, tapping the pointed part against his chin twice for emphasis. “Hmm…” He hums thoughtfully, as if he were actually taking Patton’s words seriously, as if Patton had not said them as a courtesy nothing more, as if Patton had not been through battle through bloody battle, had not fought half a war—as if he did not know men like Remus did not surrender until they were made to.
But Patton always asked. Fights might have been freeing, electrifying, but the blood staining his hands after were not, even if he always tried to pull his blows. Against Remus he would not have to, Patton doesn’t even think he could. 
He can’t quite comprehend how much that terrifies him. 
“Nah,” Remus decides, shooting his arm out and sending a piercing bolt of energy out of the spear’s gem with a fluid jab of his wrist. Patton plants his feet and raises his shield, but his knees buckle as the spell impacts with a bang—and suddenly he’s twenty feet back and half buried in a snowbank, blinking, “I’ve heard a lot about you, Mr. Blueskies,” He cackles, “But if you can’t even take a hit— well, I don’t think your whole ‘living legend’ schtick is gonna last much longer!”
Logan launches into the air sending another one of those shrieking blasts towards Remus, while Patton tries to remember how to breathe in. The snow is cold, a shock to his system, and arms feel a bit like pudding under his skin from the impact. He stumbles to his feet, trying to get his bearings again.
Across the square, Logan’s sonic repulsor thingy— what’s what he called it right? Patton shakes his head— tears through the cobblestone ground, as Remus dodges artfully around without being caught in a made up dance. Patton thinks he might even be singing some Asgardian drinking song, although he can’t hear the words. Then without warning, the demigod throws an empty hand up at Logan and winks. 
The subsequent green blast of magic is so bright it nearly blinds Patton to watch. Logan goes careening from the sky, crashing straight through the squares fountain. Remus jumps up after him, moving like a rabid squirrel over the unearthed and broken sections of concrete and piping and gripping his scepter with two hands to bring it down on Logan’s glowing chest.
Patton winds back to throw his shield again, but Logan is faster, rolling to the side just as the bladed tip of the spear lodges into the block where his repulser had been.
“He’s using his weapon as a morning star,” Logan’s voice says through the earpiece, ringing loud and clear through Patton’s head. 
“Got it,” Patton says and takes off after the target. He throws his shield as the demigod raises his spear again. 
“Swing, batter, batter! SWIIIIIING!!” Remus yells, knocking it out of the way and Patton dives low for his unguarded, unstable legs. They go skidding backwards, rolling over rocks and stone and each other’s limbs and gosh that crack sounded bad, but Remus’s laughter persists.
Like he thinks this is fun. Like he isn’t bleeding, like he hasn’t destroyed half a city, like he hasn’t ruined hundreds of lives today alone. He laughing like this is the most enjoyment he’s had all week and Patton’s blood is boiling inside him, burning through his skin and threatening to spill right out.
Patton lands with his hands pinning Remus down, and his head buzzing with so many thoughts that he can’t hear any of them.
“I’m actually a top,” Remus says, twisting his knees up and launching Patton off of him.
Patton hits the ground rolling, and sliding back to his feet like he’d done a million times back in the days of his Howling Commandos, his breath condensing in the air in front of him. He looks up just in time to see a flash of green light and he stumbles back—
“Patton!” His name twists mid-syllable, mutating from a shout to a gentle call, until a familiar, lilting accent is curling warm around the letters. He looks up, and the Brit grins brightly down at him, one hand clasping his shoulder, “You alright, Mr. Blueskies? You zoned out on us for a moment there?”
Patton looks at him, really looks at him, with his old round glasses cleaned roughly on his shirt. He’s not blurry, but bright, almost blindingly so, cheekbones sunken but blue eyes clear.
Wait, no—Patton blinks, feels like he’s stumbling, freefalling backward for a moment—Patton blinks and his eyes are venom green, still creased in concern, but it’s not right, not him, not—
Patton opens his mouth to protest, to question, to demand, but the Brit’s name slips backwards from his brain and he can’t quite grasp it between his fingers anymore. He blinks again, and the back of his eyelids are green and he can feel his pulse behind them, hard and fast.
The Brit’s eyes are hazel. Soft and concerned and bleeding, dripping messily from each duct like tears and staining his cheeks an ugly scarlet. He bleeds and he bleeds and he bleeds, from his eyes and nose and ears, a mottling purple bruise creeping up the side of his neck and curling painfully around his wrists and suddenly, suddenly, he’s stepping out of range, taking away his hand and his smile and his warmth and Patton—
Patton slams into the concrete beneath him. The back of his head snaps against his helmet and his eyes are spinning and there’s green smoke glowing around him—for a moment he feels like he’s drowning, and his head has just breached the waves as his lungs heaved, but then his body seizes again, once, twice, as his comm screams in his ears—
“Captain!—”
The explosion is as loud as it is violent, shredding through the room and ripping through the wall without any warning. Patton hits the ground, feeling the rumbling of the train under him, the winds of the Siberian winter mountain over him. He can hear his team scrambling through their radios as the signal screams, working around the curses in an amount of languages that outnumber the years this war had been going on for. 
“—just messed up,” a voice is saying. “You’re fighting off my creations with the power of denial? Deedee said your daddy fucked you over but I didn’t think it was that bad!”
“Patton!” the Soviet screams. Patton can’t breathe as he raises his head, as he clings to the broken railing, as he looks over and sees the Soviet just barely holding on himself. He’s outside the train car, finger wrapped around a piece of exposed metal that’s cutting through his gloves and spilling blood across his palms.
“Patton, these are just illusions,” another says far closer, almost right in his ears. Patton wants to scream. The wind is tearing through the gap in the train wall, strong enough that even his super soldier strength is barely keeping him holding on and the Soviet is staring at him with fear, with horror, with terror. His eyes are brown, brown like dark chocolate, unmistakable, unforgettable, un-illusionable. His face is half burned, half smashed, half collided with the wall and his left cheek marred by more blood than it should be possible.
“Patton, listen to me! Whatever you’re seeing it’s not—”
“Patton,” the Soviet’s lips move, and Patton can feel the infinity between his heartbeats. “Please I can’t—!”
Siberian winds are strong. Patton lunges forward, his fingers reaching, stretching, grasping and the Siberian winds drag the Soviet out into empty air, into a free fall, into the nothingness of wilderness and snow and a fall that no human, super serum or not, could survive.
Funny isn’t it? The Soviet survived the war of his homeland that ravaged the earth, survived a year in HYDRA prisoner camps that had killed more good men than the records would ever remember, survived joining the allies who never trusted him; he could have survived everything. But instead he had come in contact with Patton Hart, whose specialty has always been killing the things closest to him.
Patton is still screaming the Soviet’s name when there’s a sharp CLANG metal on stone and the train around him evaporates like fallen snow itself.
His chest is heaving, pulse rushing, and spots swimming at the edge. He throws himself to the side and heaves, spit dripping on the sidewalk. His stomach is churning with guilt and anger, running so hot he thinks his throat might burn if he actually hurls, so he presses one kevlar covered hand against his mouth to keep it down as salt burns in his eyes. 
After a moment, he hears the low hum of repulsors, and the solid clank of metal against cement. He looks up, folding back onto his knees, just as Logan places the cool metal frames of his glasses on the bridge of his nose. 
“Breathe in through your mouth,” Logan suggests, calmly, “And out through your nose. Slowly.” 
Patton sucks a breath in as Logan’s face, helmet folded back into the armor, swims into clarity before him. His stomach settles, some, and he swallows, feeling his lips curl into a familiar shape. 
“It appears there’s been a new development,” Logan informs him, once his breathing has been regulated into something resembling normal. He crouches down next to him as Patton viciously rubs his cheeks dry, more thankful than he can express at the moment. “Are you…?”
“I’m fine,” Patton says. “I’m fine.”
“You shouldn’t be,” Logan comments, removing his hands once Patton steadies, “It is expected to be disoriented after a mental attack of that severity. What I meant was—” 
“REMUS!”
Logan and Patton both whip towards the sound, Logan reaching up and tapping the side of his helmet at the sight before them: the roof of a building twenty feet away and a figure standing aloft the edge, red cape billowing in the wind, and a sword with a glowing golden hilt in his hand. Logan hisses at the sight of him, but from Patton’s very professional opinion, with moonlit glow at his back, the newcomer seems like something out of a fairytale, a dream come to life.
“Thomas, if you can hear me…” Logan says distastefully into his com, “It appears Prince Roman has, at last, arrived to take responsibility for his brother.”
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End of Chapter Four
Previous Ask || Rules || Ch 4 Start || Masterlist || Next Chapter
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Right Beside Me - The Doctor x Reader
Prompt: The Doctor ages from 9-13 and reader must deal with the toll of change and loss. Reader goes through the many regenerations of the Doctor. 
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You first knew the Doctor on his ninth body, more or less that is, but he preferred ninth. You were beside him the day he turned into his tenth self. It was shocking, and heartbreaking, and left you lonely in a way you’d never felt before. The man you had grown to trust, one might even go as far as to say love, had transformed almost completely, leaving you longing for someone who was still sitting right beside you.
 The aches in your chest slowly ceased as you came to the realization that he was still your Doctor. The way he always made sure you were safe first in a dangerous situation never faltered. The way he looked at you when he was sure you weren’t paying attention was still there. He was still your beautiful, loving Doctor. 
It was on this face you told him you loved him. 
You had just returned to the TARDIS after the events on the way to Midnight. Donna had already retired to bed and you were left alone with the Doctor. You sat on the floor, back resting against the railing. The Doctor sat with his back to the console, clearly shaken as well.  “I’m sorry you had to see that,” he finally said, eyes still yet to meet yours.  “I’m sorry I couldn’t help more. I wish I would’ve done more but I felt so powerless.”  “It’s not your fault. There is nothing you could’ve done to change what they had already decided.”
“I thought I was going to lose you,” your voice shook as you uttered what had now become your greatest fear. “I was so scared, Doctor.” “Hey, come here,” the Doctor soothed you, moving to sit beside you. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder, allowing you to push yourself into his side. He had removed his suit jacket and you could feel the warmth of his skin under his thin white shirt. 
Maybe it was the fear of losing him, or maybe it was just the stray adrenaline left in your veins, but something in you snapped. “I love you, Doctor. I don’t want to lose you.”  “I wish I could give you everything you want, but I can’t. It’ll hurt you to love me. I’m not like you - you already know that.”  “I do.” You were both quiet, but only for a moment. “I’d rather be hurt by you than be loved by anyone else.” Your voice was barely above a whisper, but it carried the weight of an anchor.  “I couldn’t do that to you.” “Doctor, you’re hurting me more by pushing me away. I’ve loved two of you now and I’ll love how ever many more I can. I wish my life was more than a small blip in time to you. I wish you would open yourself up to someone. You’re so alone, Doctor. I can see it when you think no one is watching.” “You will age and I will not. It will be the hardest thing you’ve ever endured.” “Please for once in your life stop being sensible and kiss me.” 
And he did. You didn’t know which one of you it surprised more, but your bet was on him. He grabbed you with a ferocity you had only seen on the worst of occasions. His moves were sloppy, but deliberate, showing a side of him that he had never shown you before. Never had you seen the doctor so uncalculated and free. You matched your energy to his, easily returning his passion. 
It was easy to love the Doctor. He was caring and kind, always leaving the world better than he found it. Or at least, he tried to. 
His last weeks on his tenth face were hard, to say the least. It started on Mars and only got worse from there. You could see it chipping at him, making him more irritable, to the point that he wouldn’t even want to be near you. Everything came to a climax when the Doctor defeated the Master. The finality of the situation allowed you to relax for the first time in what felt like an eternity. 
It was over. All of the Masters were gone, leaving only the Doctor. A bloodied and bruised Doctor, but him nonetheless. You were trapped inside of a cage, only a glass one, thankfully. Your fingers tapped against the glass, trying to draw his attention to you. He needed medical attention and a lot of rest and the sooner you got off of this planet the better. 
He slowly stood, eyes locking with yours. “You did it, love. I’m so proud of you.” You smiled, pressing your hands to the glass. “Help me get out and lets go home.” You don’t know when you started calling the TARDIS ‘home’, but at some point it became the truth. He walked towards you. “The Master left the nuclear bomb going. It’s gone into overload.” Your stomach sank. It was over. It was just over. Of course things didn’t end perfectly, they rarely did. “That’s not good, is it?” you ask, your voice beginning to get choppy as you fought back tears.  “No, all the excess radiation gets vented into there,” he says, nodding his head to the glass tank you were still encompassed in.  The Doctor would never leave you in a situation like this. His face was contemplative, sad even. You wipe your tears away quickly. “You can’t let me out, can you?” “It’s gone critical. Touch one control and it floods.” He pulls his sonic from his pocket, twirling it around in his fingers. “Even this would set it off.”
A sob forces its way through your throat. You press your hand harder to the glass, desperate for the closeness of the man you loved. He obliged, pressing his own hands on the other side. “Please leave me. I don’t want you to see it, Doctor.”  He draws in a sharp breath, “Oh, right then, I will,” he says, walking in only a circle to return right in front of you. “Because you had to go in there, didn’t you?” Anger now mixed with his sadness. “You had to go and get stuck. Because that’s who you are,” his voice cracks, looking you in the eyes once more. The anger in his voice has passed, leaving him looking smaller than you’ve ever seen him before.  “Please leave me, Doctor,” you cried out. “We always knew that I’d die before you anyway,” you said with a small laugh. It was all you could do to keep from crying. “Of course we did. Look at you, not remotely important!” He walked another few steps away before turning again. “But, me? I could do so much more!” He was no longer speaking to just you, maybe he never had been. He screamed at the sky, the way a child screams at their parent when they know they are being unreasonable. “So much more!” He drops, using a table as leverage. You want nothing more than to hold him as he shakily says, “But this is what I get. My reward.” His voice jumps again, rising with intensity as he shoves the contents of the desk onto the floor. “It’s not fair!”
He calms, his eyes finally meeting with yours. His eyes melted, showing the fear truly inside of him. You ache to console the Time Lord as he stood in front of you, body shaking as he tried to calm himself down. Slowly, he began moving towards you once more. “I’ve lived too long.”  “Please don’t. Whatever you’re about to do - stop it,” you beg. You remembered his first regeneration and how it crushed you. You knew that it would be even harder now that you had fallen even farther in love with this form of himself. “Doctor, please stop.”  He stopped in front of the door, pressing his hand against yours through the glass once more. “I love you.” 
He quickly opened his door, slipping in and leaving you just enough time to slip out before the radiation poured in. The tank turned red, illuminating his skin in a way that caused him to look non-human. He groaned in pain, sinking to the floor. You knelt beside him, telling him every reassuring word you could think of, aching to soothe his pain. His body curled into a ball, in the fetal position. It was the most vulnerable you had ever seen the Time Lord. You cried out to him, feeling the pain that he was going through in your own chest.
Not long after, it was over. The lights returned to normal and his screaming stopped. He stood, opening the door and simply stepping out. “Is that it?” you asked, knowing that it was too good to be true. His face remained unchanged, still the Doctor you loved.  “No. I’m going to change,” he said solemnly. 
That night he gave you instructions on how to drive the TARDIS. He knew that this wouldn’t be the last regeneration you saw and wanted you to be safe when the time came. You parked down at a safe location, hopeful that no one would bother you.  
That night he regenerated, causing the death of the man you fell in love with. But, you didn’t fall in love with a man, you fell in love with the Doctor. Your heart grew fond of the new face of your love. He was goofier and much stranger than his tenth form. But, in those few moments where the world fell around him, he was harsher than him. His soft edges masked the true sharpness of the man, making the shift even more alarming. 
You had forgotten how much his demeanor changed when he first regenerated. Everything was brand new and you had to fall in love again with not only a new face, but parts of a new man. His physicality was not the only change. There were days that you missed how easy it was to be with his last regeneration. Everything was smooth and you could sense his reactions almost as quick as he could. 
His eleventh form was a bit harder to learn, but you found yourself deep in love once more. Before you realized it you were used to the face you were waking up beside. You no longer had the jolt of confusion that you had when he first changed. All you felt as your eyes slowly focused on him was love.  “Good morning,” you’d whisper as he looked over at you, a blissful smile present on his sleepy face.  “Good morning, darling,” he’d reply, brushing his hand through your hair.  It was nice to have a calm moment together before you got into whatever antics came along with traveling with the Doctor. 
You enjoyed those adventures until your last, kissing him goodbye once more and waiting for his next form. It was hard and painful, but you did it again. 
And again. 
The Doctor was hunched over the console, clearly still feeling the effects of the new regeneration. He would need rest and lots of it. You had been through this three times prior, and were able to help him come out mostly unscathed. The Doctor stood, allowing you to finally see his new reincarnation. It took you a few moments to comprehend that this new face was that of a woman. “Oh,” you simply said, digesting the new form.  “Am I ginger?” she asked, her face lit up. When she smiled you could see the resemblance to her tenth face. Every regeneration, this one a little more so, startled you slightly. Even with your many years of loving the different forms of the Doctor, it was easy to shut down at a new regeneration. It normally took about a week for you to fully warm up to the new face, but it always happened.  You smiled. “No, blonde, and also female,” you said, pulling out the console mirror. 
“Blimey, never been one of those before,” she said, examining herself fully. “On another note, I believe I’m about to have a surge.” You knew that was your cue to retreat to your bedroom, and you did. You would often wait here for a day while the TARDIS was already parked at a decidedly safe location. 
Like every regeneration, the Doctor found herself in immense trouble, before consequently working herself out of it. Once the days of strife had settled, you thought that you could afford a day to relax. When you woke up, she was already out of bed, sitting on the couch in the corner, seemingly unaware that you had woken up.  “I thought we agreed on a lie-in, love,” you said, hoping to draw her back into bed for however long you could.  “Are you still happy?” her voice traveled in a straight line, more contemplative than accusatory.  “Of course I am, besides almost being caught on fire on that last planet. Why do you ask?” You shuffled to the couch, sitting cross-legged beside her.  “I’ve been through four changes with you now. No one has ever lasted this long.”  Your fingers slid up her jaw, resting on her cheek. Her eyes meet yours as she lets out a small huff, waiting for your answer.  “I’ve been with four of you, and I plan to be with as many more as I’m able to. I love you and each new day I spend with you is a gift in of itself.”  She smiles, your answer suffice for the time being. “Then let’s get going.”
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An Interview with PLEXXAGLASS
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Written by Olivia Khiel. Graphic by James N Grey. 
Non-binary dark pop artist PLEXXAGLASS has found their identity and carved out their own space in the music world. With the pandemic putting things on hold, they took to TikTok, reaching a new community of queer fans to connect with through songs like “Liar” and “Lilith” (the latter produced by Linkin Park’s Mike Shinoda). GBTRS spoke with Plexxaglass about collaborating with Shinoda, their gender identity journey and what they hope listeners will connect with in their music.
Girls Behind the Rock Show: Now that you have more music out, how would you describe the evolution of your sound from when you started to where you are now?
Plexxaglass: I love that question. Because it's kind of funny- I feel like I made a little bit of a circle. I say that because the first two songs that I put out- "Lament en Route" and "Liar"- they're pretty similar sonically to the songs that I'm putting out. So much so that I'm actually going to include those songs on the LP that I'll be releasing, tentatively in October. There's an interesting little gap between those first two songs, and then I put out three other songs that was like my experimental phase. I'm always having fun, but I was trying some different things. I'm happy that I did that and there were two music videos that came out of that cycle or phase. Those songs are "Dead-Eyed Monsters" and "Ana Thema". But I feel like I found my way back to what I found initially, which is really interesting and fun to realize now.
GBTRS: What's the story behind your latest singles? What was it like collaborating with Mike Shinoda on "Lilith"?
Plexxaglass: "Lilith" was a half-finished song honestly- maybe even a quarter-finished song when I even got in touch with Mike. That happened so serendipitously-I had a listener who was also a regular viewer of my Twitch channel and a huge Linkin Park and Shinoda fan in general who hit me up on Instagram and was like, 'Mike Shinoda is producing independent artists' tracks, you should totally submit'. 
I submitted what I had of "Lilith" at the time, which was only a verse and the hook. It was a song that I loved and I knew that I wanted to be finished. I'm not one of those musicians that can just be like, 'alright, I'm gonna write a song today'. I really have to be called by the Muses or some shit. I have to be very inspired. But when Mike reached out to me, that was incentive and inspiration enough. I think when I was sitting down to finish it, I finished in maybe 20 minutes. That's just how it happens sometimes. When it's there, it's there and I finish songs really quickly. The process of working with Mike was amazing, and him and his team told me in the beginning that it was going to be pretty hands off on my part. I knew going in that I was gonna have to take it or leave it, which was sort of scary. I was like, oh shit, what if I don't like it? Am I gonna have to tell Mike Shinoda that I don't want to release the work that he did on my track? Oh my god, that's so scary. But no, of course, he's just so versatile. He really is a musician's musician, and he just gets music in general- doesn't matter what genre it is. I believe my song is the one that he finished the fastest, which is very flattering. It made me feel like it was just very ready. He didn't really have to do too much to it. It was a really, really cool experience that I just will cherish forever and ever and ever.
GBTRS: The song came out beautifully so it's great that things worked out so well.
Plexxaglass: Yeah! And the inspiration behind that one- I wrote it out of a fascination with the second season of The Handmaid's Tale. I found that dynamic so fascinating. I find women or femme-presenting people who [are] in a marginalized group who buys into very oppressive religious practices horrifying and fascinating at the same time. That was the inspiration behind writing that and really sitting with wondering if there's ever an awakening with those people. That was really the basis for that whole song.
GBTRS: You've gotten to collab with Mike Shinoda, but is there anyone else on your list that you'd love to be in the studio with in the future?
Plexxaglass: Oh god, yeah. So many. Right off the top of my head...I love Bishop Briggs, I love Dermot Kennedy, Bon Iver, Annie from St. Vincent, Florence Welch. Those are the big ones. I would die happy if I ever got to collaborate with any of them. That would be amazing.
GBTRS: What else do you find yourself drawing inspiration from these days?
Plexxaglass: Up until this point, it's been very autobiographical. It's been very much things that have happened in my life. I am trying to get away from that because I'm somebody who writes more somber music. I have some anthemic stuff that's more uplifting, but it is dark pop. I am at a point in my life where I'm generally- I'm mentally ill- but I'm generally a happy person. There's not a lot of dramatic tragedy going on in my life at 30 anymore. I'm trying to write a little more abstractly these days, but the themes that seem to always reoccur are very social justice motivated. Writing about mental illness and mental health are all themes that I tend to write about over and over again in different ways.
GBTRS: You've been very vocal and open about your gender identity and that's very important to so many people who are looking to find themselves in the people that they listen to. Do you have any advice for people who are struggling with that, or even advice for creatives who are in the industry who are working through that as well? 
Plexxaglass: So my coming out as non-binary is still honestly pretty new. I came out publicly about it a little over a year ago. It's something that I always knew, but growing up we just didn't have the language for it. I didn't really know why I felt so out of place and that it felt like such a struggle to present as feminine as possible so as not to feel like I was an outsider. I spent many years trying very hard to conform. 
I think a lot of it was literature that talked about neo-pronouns [that] was something that happened for me that was really an eye-opener. I knew at that point that there were people who used they/them pronouns [and] identified as non-binary, but for some reason, it didn't really click until a book called Black Sun. They have a character that uses neo-pronouns. It just really slapped me in the face. 
I'm really lucky. My friends and family have been almost apathetic about it- like 'that totally makes sense'. The other thing that really helped me was honestly TikTok as well. There is a large trans and non-binary community on TikTok. That was where I really found community, because it was scary to me, because I have conformed for so long. Being a woman was something that I made a very clear part of my identity for so long, that I was scared to lose that community.
I would just say to anyone who is afraid of that: anyone who doesn't still want to welcome you in their space isn't a person you want in your life anyway. I've been lucky that I haven't really had a lot of that. It was a struggle to let go of that. After I came out publicly, I was looking through my closet and I have all of these shirts that say Girl Club and Badass Woman [and] all of these because I was trying so hard. It was difficult to let go of that and come to terms with the fact that it really never was me- it was a mask that I was putting on to feel included and normal.
GBTRS: Do you have a song in your catalog that particularly resonates with you?
Plexxaglass: There's a song that's coming out in August. It's the last single off of this record [and] it's called "Tall". It is about being a trauma survivor- my trauma- and just a rallying cry for trauma survivors in general. I have put out little teasers of it on TikTok and it does seem like it's really resonating with people, which is very exciting. But out of the catalog of songs that I have out currently, the song "Liar"...it's kind of similar in tone. I wrote it after I was diagnosed Bipolar II. It's a song that's very clearly about mental health struggles and I think anyone who does struggle with depression really does relate to that song. That song was the one that really gifted me listeners from TikTok. So that's a song I'll always cherish for many, many reasons, but it has definitely brought me my little music family.
GBTRS: Now that you're starting to connect even more with your listeners, is there anything specific that you hope people take away from your music when they hear you for the first time?
Plexxaglass: I think, like most people, I wanted to create a little community, and I do feel like I'm finally getting to a point where I'm doing that with my music and connecting people and their experiences. 
GBTRS: Now that things are starting to move forward, what's coming up for you?
Plexxaglass: I want to get back to playing shows. I definitely want to pair a show with the release of the record, so I'm hoping I'm going to book some shows for the fall. Get back into rehearsals with a band and get that going and just keep writing and coming up with new material for the next wave of music.
GBTRS: Is there anything else that you want people to know about you or your music, or is there anything that you wish you got to talk about more that you might not get asked?
Plexxaglass: Wow, good question. I think a lot of people don't realize that musicians- especially independent artists- this is this is our small business. It takes a lot of work, obviously, it takes talent and patience, but it takes money. That's why they're there are gaps in time of when I put music out, because sometimes I just legitimately can't afford to- which is sad, I wish that the US had more support for artists like I know other countries do- I know that the UK is really good about grant opportunities for their artists out there. 
I know that people are happy to consume music, but I think people don't realize- especially in the independent side of things- how hard it is to be a musician who's trying to make it in this country. I appreciate everyone who has ever just randomly sent me like $2 on PayPal. It means so much to me because it means that they get that and I think that is something really special and cool about the family that I'm building with my music because they think that they really see me and they appreciate the work. It's people who genuinely want to be involved in my work, and that is something I've never experienced before until the past year or two. That's awesome because myself and my producer, Kevin...we love this project to death. It's awesome to see response from people who love it just as much as we do.
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Class of 1-A Imagine
The entire 1-A class got hit by a quirk swapping villain! It’s all randomized and I spent a bunch of time on this! Please draw what they would look like and dm me!
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Lida
 - He was lucky enough to get Denki’s quirk
 - Didn't even notice for a few seconds
 - Only realized when he couldn’t run anymore
 - His engines were simply gone ~ POOF!
 - It was only when he looked at his hair and saw bright yellow
 - Immediately runs away as fast as his weak, human legs can take him
 - When they tell him what happens, he forces Kaminari to tell him how to use it
 - “I don’t know, you just... do the thing.”
 - “Well what thing because on page four of using your quirk, it says that...”
 - When Iida gets the hang of it, he doesn’t like to use it
 - He’s terrified of hurting someone, and since he isn’t experienced, he doesn’t want to go brain-dead either
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Asui
 - She got Deku’s quirk
 - She doesn’t like how big her arms get
 - All Might immediately helps her since he doesn’t want her to break any bones
 - She doesn’t fully grasp the concept and chooses not to use the quirk
 - She’s seen how bad Deku can get
 - She is overjoyed at something else though
 - “My tongue Mina! Look at my tongue!”
 - Everyone finds out Asui has a beautiful singing voice
 - She’s almost sad to get her own quirk back
 - But it’s okay
 - She can’t hurt herself with her own quirk ~ribbit
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 Aoyama
 - He was able to get Sero’s quirk
 - “Well you didn’t hear this from me but it’s truly unfashionable.”
 - “Look at me, the human tape dispenser of 1-A.”
 - “Ugh, I can’t even wear my fur jacket because my elbows are too thick.”
 - “Sero, how do you wear long sleeves with this thing?!”
 - Aoyama doesn’t want to use the quirk, it’s just not “flowing with his vibe”
 - He wears his fancy jackets for the entire month after the quirk wears off
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( a picture of Bakugo trying to help Kirishima learn about molecules ^^^^)
Kirishima
 - He got Momo’s quirk
 - At first he’s sad, his unmanly quirk is gone for an entire week!
 - But then he realizes that he can walk around shirtless for an entire week
 - “It’s for my quirk!”
 - He likes being able to make food in an instant, he just doesn’t like it when Aizawa insists that he know the basic molecules of certain things
 - “When am I going to use this? I will never have to make an umbrella in my life!”
 - He likes to stick to food, especially liking that he can make any meal better than Bakugo
 - “Dude! I could solve world hunger from my abs!”
 - “Woah, imagine if I could make a car from my abs.”
 - “Can I make wings like Hawks?!
 - When the week ends, Kirishima is kinda disappointed 
 - But Bakugo is happy he got his cooking buddy back
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Koda
 - He got Uraraka’s quirk
 - He’s super excited honestly, he likes being able to fly
 - “I feel like a feather.”
 - Ochako is happy to be able to teach him how
 - “Let’s just stay indoors. We don’t need you floating off to space.”
 - Koda almost wants to go to space
 - Once he learns how to use it, he uses all his time zooming around the dorms
 - Once Aizawa takes them outside to train, he just floats around in the air
 - Aizawa lets him
 - He knows this precious baby needs some relaxation with the clouds
 - He also likes the birds
 - He can’t speak to them though, which is frustrating for him
 - “How do you not remember me? I fed you dinner last night!”
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Ojiro
 - He got Tokoyami’s quirk
 - One second his tail was there, the next second it was a mean looking bird
 - Ojiro likes taking his bird on walks, he doesn’t really know what to do with it
 - He talks to the bird sometimes, and for some reason he can understand it
 - “Dark Shadow seems too emo. Let’s try Gregory.”
 - The bird agrees 100%
 - When Ojiro is training, Gregory is too powerful sometimes
 - “How do you control your own shadow?!”
 - Training sessions with Aizawa is just one big mess for Ojiro
 - Nothing gets accomplished accept Ojiro talking to Thompson and Thompson trying to attack anyone who gets close
 - Ojiro is so excited to get his tail back, but it sad that Tokoyami won’t take the same request
 - rip Gregory
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( Sato’s reaction to getting Mineta’s quirk^^ )
Sato
 - Sato has Mineta’s quirk
 - Sato doesn’t come out of his room for the entire week
 - Everyone understands
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Hagakure
 - She got Sato’s quirk
 - She makes a bunch of sweets as an excuse to eat all of it
 - But that’s not a big deal at all to her
 - She’s not invisible anymore!
 - The moment she realizes that she isn’t invisible, she goes crazy
 - She’s actually kind of tan
 - Not only that but she’s gorgeous!
 - Thick brown hair, green eyes, and she’s so skinny
 - Her face alone has everyone in 1-A dropping dead
 - Some of the guys can’t believe it
 - They’ve chatted with this girl for months and had no idea
 - She wants to ask Ojiro on a date, but what happens when the quirk wears off
 - It does wear off, but nobody cares
 - They always knew she was pretty, and this just confirmed it for sure
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Shoji
 - He got Hagakure’s quirk
 - What’s not to love about being invisible?
 - The strange part to him is that he can still see himself
 - All of his extra arms are gone!
 - That’s sad, all of his shirts were custom for those arms
 - He borrows clothes from his friends
 - It’s funny to see a robe and bunny slippers walking around at midnight though
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Deku
 - He got Todoroki’s quirk
 - It’s okay though! He’s got his creepy notebook!
 - Todoroki gladly give him teaching on how to use it
 - “Remember, flames do damage and ice can be used to capture things.”
 - Deku knows all of this from his “research”
 - But that doesn’t stop them from spending everyday training together
 - It’s fun... and “helpful”
 - Deku loves being his own microwave and freezer
 - He accidently catches things on fire from time to time
 - He got scared by a movie and froze half the couch
 - Todoroki kissed him and he burned half his shirt off
 - “How do you control this thing?!”
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Ururaka
 - She got Mina’s quirk
 - “Yay! I got acid hands! I got acid hands!”
 - Mina makes her wear oven mitts
 - She accidently burns a hole through her bed while having nightmares
 - “High five! Wait... never mind.”
 - “Mina, teach me how to do the thing!”
 - Also let’s not forget that Ochako has pink skin, horns, and alien eyes
 - “Ooh, I look so cute!”
 - Ochako spends most of her time posing in front of the mirror
 - “Look at my horns Kirishima!”
 - “Mina, look at my eyes!”
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Denki
 - He got Iida’s quirk
 - Whenever he runs, he ends up going sonic on people
 - “Denki, take a lap!”
 - “I don't think you want that Mr. Aizawa.”
 - Whenever Denki tries to use Iida’s quirk, it’s always a quick fail
 - So far Denki has taken out a trash can, Present Mic, tripped on a basketball, run into a tree, faceplant into dirt, and accidently swallow a bug
 - The worst part is that Denki sleep walks
 - Running into stuff, tripping over a potted plant, falling down a flight of stairs
 - “This is better than being brain dead I guess.”
 - Denki spends most of his time making fun of Iida by waving his arms like a robot and trying on multiple pairs of glasses at once
 - Iida demands that Kaminari trains
 - “Kaminari, you will read all of these books on how to operate engine legs or else!”
 - Kaminari must admit the engine legs are cool
 - Except when Kirishima put hot dogs in them
 - The entire class room smelled like burnt meat
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Jiro
 - “Cool! I look like a frog!”
 - She got Asui’s quirk
 - Her hair turned green, her tongue grew, and her pupils dialated
 - “Asui, look at this!”
 - She uses her tongue to swing off the dusty chandelier when Iida isn’t looking
 - “Ew! They should make tongue condoms!”
 - Jiro and Ochako have a blast teasing Mina and Asui
 - “Ribbit bitch! Your frog queen has arrived!”
 - Denki gets Jiro a crown to wear around the dorms
 - Ochako buys the four girls frog onesies
 - “So kawaii!”
 - Jiro never was into swimming until now
 - She likes that her fingers don’t get wrinkly
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Sero
 - He got Ojiro’s quirk
 - “Dude, look at my tail!”
 - Bakugo makes fun of his “backwards dick”
 - It’s funny, but not that funny
 - In return Sero whips him with it
 - “I feel like a monkey!”
 - Sero hangs from everything he can
 - “This thing has more muscles than I do!”
 - He goes to a playground nearby with Denki and swings off the monkey bars
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Tokayami
 - He got Koda’s quirk
 - “I’ve never been much about nature. Too much light, not enough darkness.”
 - Bakugo jokes that he can finally talk to his pigeon brothers
 - “Dude! The birds love you!”
 - And everyone is right
 - As soon as Tokoyami walks outside, a pigeon lands on his head
 - “Why did that pigeon just speak to me?!”
 - Tokoyami is scared of the outside now
 - “I can hear their voices still!”
 - Tokoyami has a panic attack over being able to hear the animal voices
 - “Why do ants sound so manly?”
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Todoroki
 - He got Bakugo’s quirk
 - “I’m not asking that bastard for help.”
 - Instead, he goes to Deku for training
 - “Deku, you have that stalker notebook still?”
 - Bakugo’s quirk is like his own quirk
 - “Seriosuly? Just heat?”
 - “Kind of basic if you ask me.”
 - Once Bakugo hears that, he goes beserk
 - “Icyhot!”
 - “Oh no no, you can’t call me that anymore.”
 - Todoroki likes propelling himself in the air with explosions
 - Bakugo’s quirk is too loud, like his personality
 - He doesn’t like using the quirk honestly
 - “It's not very good, very violent, and I don’t like getting sweaty.”
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Bakugo
 - He got Kirishima’s quirk
 - “Yea bro, you can get hard too now!”
 - Mina tries to stop him from saying that
 - Poor bby doesn't understand
 - Kirishima tries to help, but Bakugo is having no part in that
 - “How difficult can your quirk be Shitty Hair?”
 - It isn’t easy though, especially when Bakugo is forced to be shirtless.
 - He’s used to his hero outfit covering his chest
 - Bby is a little self conscious
 - The best part is that he doesn’t sweat that much
 - “Fuck yea! I don’t smell like fucking cinnamon and caramel!”
 - Bakugo does miss his explosions and hand grenades
 - Your quirk is too boring Kirishima, and it’s not loud at all
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Momo
 - She got Aoyama’s quirk
 - Her immediate reaction is to read a bunch
 - “Aoyama! Wait up, I have so many questions!”
 - Next though, she has fun with it
 - “It’s so pretty!”
 - Along the way her and Aoyama become friends
 - He brings her pain releivers to help with the stomach pains
 - “It sucks but at least it’s pretty.”
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Mina
 - She got Jiro’s quirk!
 - Immediately her skin isn’t pink, her horns are gone, and her eyes turn bright blue
 - She’s still as spunky as ever though
 - “Dude! Imagine all the hot gossip I can listen to!”
 - Mina tries the teacher’s lounge with Asui and Ochako, only to hear Aizawa and Present Mic planning a date night
 - “We should totally go as well!” Mina offers
 - They go on all sorts of “spy missions”
 - Mina also likes being able to tan with Momo from time to time
 - She does miss her horns though
 - She realizes quickly that Jiro’s earphone jacks are also Bluetooth
 - Jiro just never told anyone before
 - When Mina gets her quirk back, she is so happy to look “normal” again
Omg this took all day! Please comment down below your favorite combo and if I should do another one! Love you all! Stay safe! <3333
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thelittlesttimelord · 4 years
Text
The Littlest Timelord: The Fall of the Eleventh Chapter 15
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TITLE: The Littlest Timelord: The Fall of the Eleventh Chapter 15 PAIRING: No Pairing RATING: T CHAPTER: 15/? SUMMARY: Elise Smith is now a teenaged Timelord. In addition to losing the Ponds, the fields of Trenzalore are calling. But first they have to figure out exactly who Clara Oswald is.
[A/N - I thought I’d be nice and give you another chapter for being so nice and understanding.]
“Please don’t do this,” Elise begged the Doctor.
“She's right. You don't have to be in there. We can do this remotely,” Kate told him.
“Remotely isn't my style. See you after.” He kissed his hand and hit Amy on the head.
Elise grabbed onto his jacket and silently begged him with her eyes not to do this. He took her hand in his and gave it a light squeeze before letting go.
He went inside the room as the number went down to two. He sat down and spun the cube. It went down to one and finally hit zero.
It switched off and opened up.
“What's happening?” Kate asked.
The Doctor peered inside the cube.
“Well? What's in there?” Amy asked.
“There is nothing in here,” the Doctor said.
“Er, well, that's good. It's not, it's not bombs, it's not aliens.”
“Why? Why is there nothing inside? Why? It doesn't make any sense.” The Doctor came out of the small room and walked over to the researcher at the computer bay. “Glasses, is it the same? Is it the same all around the world?”
“They're empty,” Kate said, “We're safe, right?”
“Ah, no, no, no, we are very far from safe. All along, every action has been deliberate. Why draw attention to the cubes if they don't contain anything?”
“Doctor, look,” Amy said, looking at one of the screens.
People walking down the street grabbed their chests as they came near the cubes.
“They're CCTV feeds from across the world. They're showing the same,” the researcher said.
Elise covered her mouth in horror as she watched the people die.
“People are dying,” Kate said, shocked.
“What? They can't be dying. How? How are they dying?” the Doctor asked.
“I want information on how people are being affected.”
“The cubes brought people close together. They opened and then…” The Doctor cried out in pain and grabbed his chest.
“Dad!” Elise said, rushing to his side.
“Doctor, what's the matter?” Amy asked.
The monitor started beeping.
“I don't know!”
“Hospitals are logging a global surge in heart failures. Cardiac arrests,” the researcher explained.
“That's it.” The Doctor cried out in pain, hitting himself on the chest. “Only one heart. Other one's not working.”
“Okay, I'm going to get you to the hospital!” Amy yelled.
“Oh, no, no, no, no. Just a short circuit. Tell me, show me. Ten seconds after the cubes opened, show me the patterns in their electrical currents.”
A heartbeat signature appeared on the screen.
“See?” the Doctor asked, “The power cut. They zapped the power and then…” The Doctor cried out in pain again. “They're signal boxes. People leaning in, wham. Pure electrical surge out of the cube targeted at the nearest human heart. The heart, an organ powered by electrical currents, short-circuited. How to destroy a human? Go for the heart. Ow. Crikey Moses.”
“Doctor, the scan you set running. The transmitter locations. It's found them,” Kate told him.
“And look at them all, pulsing bold as brass. Seven of them, all across the world.” The Doctor hit himself on the chest again. “Seven stations, seven minutes. Why is that important?” The Doctor cried out in pain, grabbing his chest.
Elise wished she could help him.
“How do you people manage? One heart, it is pitiful,” the Doctor snapped, “A wormhole, bridging two dimensions. Seven of them hitched onto this planet, but where's the closest one? Glasses, zoom in.”
The program zoomed in before stopping.
“It's the hospital where Rory works,” Amy said.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The Doctor lumbered down the hallway, leaning on Elise for support. “How many deaths have been recorded?” he asked Kate.
“We don't know. We think it could be a third of the population.”
“Kate, I have to find the wormhole, but the attacks could still happen. Tell the world. Tell them how to deal with this. The world needs your leadership right now.”
“I'll do my best.”
“Of course you will. Good luck, Kate.” The Doctor cried out in pain and stagger over to the wall to hold himself up.
“Okay, how long are you going to last with only one heart?” Amy asked.
“Not much longer. I need to locate the wormhole portal.”
Elise pulled out her sonic screwdriver, scanning the area.
They walked past a little girl, who was throwing off odd signals. The girl’s face glowed blue.
“Oh, my God,” Amy said.
“Outlier droid, monitoring everything. If we shut her down, we can…”
Elise soniced her neck area and the girl went down.
The Doctor caught her and lowered her onto the ground. “It's all right, it's all right.” The Doctor collapsed. “I can't, Amy. I can't do it. I need both hearts!”
Amy grabbed a defibrillator. “All right. Desperate measures.”
“What? No. No, no, no. That won't work. I'm a Time Lord!”
Amy opened the Doctor’s shirt and charged the defibrillator. “All right, clear!” She shocked the Doctor and he shot up.
He jumped to his feet. “Welcome back, lefty! Whoa-ho! Two hearts! Woo! Back in the game.” He grabbed Amy’s face and kissed her head. “Never do that to me again.”
Elise and Amy followed him to a lift.
“Ah, portal to another dimension in a goods lift?” Amy asked.
“The energy signals converge here. Does seem a bit cramped, though.”
They entered the lift, Elise unsure about the whole thing. After all, she didn’t have good experiences with lifts.
The wall shifted in front of their eyes.
Amy smiled at the Doctor.
“Through the looking glass, Amelia? Elise?” he whispered.
Amy took one hand and Elise took the other.
They stepped out into a spaceship.
“Where are we?” Amy asked.
“We're in orbit. One dimension to the left,” the Doctor told them.
“Rory!” Amy ran over to him. He was laying on a slab next to Brian.
Elise was having “black spot” flashbacks. She wondered how Captain Avery and his son Toby were doing.
The Doctor pulled out a small vial from his jacket. “Soborian smelling salts. Outlawed in seven galaxies.”
Amy waved it under Rory’s nose and he shot up.
Someone started shooting at them. Go figure.
“What kind of a welcome do you call that? Get them out of here. You too. Now!” the Doctor yelled.
“What are you going to do?” Amy asked.
“Absolutely no idea. Get him to the portal. Elise go with them.”
“No. I’m not leaving you.”
The Doctor stared at her for a moment before snapping, “Fine!”
Brian started to wake as Amy and Rory started to move him.
The alien shot at them again. “So many of them crawling the planet, seeping into every corner.”
Amy, Rory, and Brian managed to get away now that the alien’s attention was on the Doctor and Elise.
The alien disappeared and reappeared in front of a bunch of monitors.
The Doctor and Elise stepped in front of them on the other side.
“It's not possible. I thought the Shakri were a myth. A myth to keep the young of Gallifrey in their place,” the Doctor said.
“Who?” Elise asked.
He looked at her. “Didn’t your parents ever…? Nevermind.” Although the Doctor didn’t know much about her biological family, it didn’t seem like they ever cared for the small Timelord.
“The Shakri exist in all of time, and none. We travel alone and together. The Seven,” the alien told them.
“The Shakri craft, connected to Earth, through seven portals and seven minutes. Ah, but why?”
“Serving the word of the Tally.”
“Why the cubes? Why Earth?”
“Not Earth, humanity. The Shakri will halt the human plague before the spread.”
“Erase humanity before it colonizes space. We thought the cubes were an invasion. The start of war.”
“The human contagion only must be eliminated.”
“Who are you calling a contagion?” Amy asked, appearing behind the two Timelords with Rory.
“Oi! Didn't I tell you two to go?” the Doctor said.
“You should have learned by now,” Rory told him.
“Yeah, and what is this Tally anyway?” Amy asked.
“Some people call it Judgment Day, or the Reckoning,” the Doctor explained.
“Don't you know?”
“I've never wanted to find out.”
“Before the Closure, there is the Tally. The Shakri serves the Tally,” the alien said.
“The pest controllers of the universe, that's how the tales went, isn't it?”
“Wow. That's some seriously weird bedtime story,” Amy commented.
“You can talk. Wolf in your grandmother's nightdress?” The Doctor clapped his hands and approached the alien.
“So, here you are, depositing slug pellets all over the Earth, made attractive so humans will collect them, hoping to find something beautiful inside. Because that's what they are. Not pests or plague, creatures of hope, forever building and reaching. Making mistakes, of course, every life form does. But, but they learn. And they strive for greater, and they achieve it. You want a tally. Put their achievements against their failings through the whole of time, I will back humanity against the Shakri every time.”
The alien chuckled. “The Tally must be met. The second wave will be released.”
“What does that mean?” Amy asked.
“It's going to release more cubes to kill more people,” the Doctor said.
“The human plague breeding and fighting. And when cornered, their rage to destroy. You're too late, Doctor. The Tally shall be met,” the alien said, before vanishing.
“He's gone?” Amy asked.
“He was never really here. Just the ship's automated interface, like a talking propaganda poster,” the Doctor said. He ran over to the computers and started sonicing them. “I can stop the second wave. I can disconnect all the Shakri craft from their portals, leave them drifting in the darkspace. Ah, but all those people who were near the cubes, so many of them will have died.”
“I restarted one of your hearts,” Amy reminded him.
“You'd need mass defibrillation,” Rory said.
“Of course. Ah, beautiful. But, Ponds, Ponds. We are going to go one better than that. The Shakri used the cubes to turn people's hearts off,” the Doctor told them, “Bingo! We're going to use them to turn them back on again.”
“Will that work?” Amy asked.
“Well, creatures of hope. Has to.” He soniced the alien computer. “Thirty seconds. Don't let me down, cubes, you're working for me now.”
The ship started shaking.
“Oh dear. All these cubes. There's going to be a terrible wave of energy ricocheting around here any second. Run.”
They took off running and just managed to go back through the portal before the spaceship blew up.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
After saying goodbye to Kate and UNIT, they met back up with Amy, Rory, and Brian for dinner.
It was getting late and the Doctor checked his watch. “Dear me. I'd better get going. Things to do, worlds to save, swings to swing on.”
Elise and the Doctor got up and started to walk towards the TARDIS.
The Doctor turned around and walked back towards Amy and Rory, throwing his arms around their shoulders. “Look, I know, you both have lives here. Beautiful, messy lives. That is what makes you so fabulously human. You don't want to give them up. I understand.”
“Actually, it's you they can't give up, Doctor. You and your wonderful daughter. And I don't think they should,” Brian said.
Amy and Rory looked at Brian.
“Go with him. Go save every world you can find. Who else has that chance? Life will still be here.”
“You could come, Brian.”
“Somebody's got to water the plants. Just bring them back safe.”
Amy and Rory changed, said goodbye to Brian, and they were off again.
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movedyourchair505 · 4 years
Text
Napule Nights - La Festa Degli  Innamorati 2014
Time for the King and Queen of Napoli and their first Valentine’s Day. You guessed it, Elana helped x
- chapter navigation -
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x
As the light became too bright, the sound of the alarm too sharp, the warmth of the bed too fleeting and the craving for a cigarette too prominent, Alexander turned over onto his back, his eyes squeezed shut after being open for merely a second, the light stinging and he groaned with discomfort, stretching out his arm, wide awake instantly when he realised once the alarm was off, the apartment was completely silent, and he was alone.
He shot up into a sitting position, raking his fingers through his hair, searching instantly for his phone, as he scrolled for her number listening out, but he knew he would have been able to tell had she still been in the apartment, her scent would've lingered, the sound of the shower would be audible, music even, the shuffle of clothes, but there was no sound but him tapping on the screen.
The phone was pressed to his ear quickly and he stood up, eyeing his clothes on the floor as well as noticing that hers were gone. The dial tone made his fingers clench tighter around his phone each time, his heart skipping a beat when he heard her voice on the other end of the line.
“Yes, Alexander?”
The cheerful tone in her voice, the light-hearted smirk he could hear as she spoke, it eased the tension within him for merely a millisecond, the muscles in his jaw tightening instantly again. “Jade, where the fook are yeh?” he snapped. “Yeh fookin' kno' 'ow worryin' wakin' up wifout yeh 'ere is.”
“I'm just at Kane's,” she stated, unimpressed, looking down at her legs dangling off the counter and taking a sip from her coffee. “Lana made me some cappuccino. They had some fun, but don't worry, I didn't join in.”
Alex tensed, his jaw trembling. “Wha' are yeh playin' at, Jade?”
She exhaled loudly. “I'm not playing at anything,” she shrugged nonchalantly. “You said last night that you 'weren't big on la festa degli innamorati'.”
“Jade-...”
“So I figured I'd get taken care of here,” she continued. “I've got Zabaglione from Gli Oro, I've got coffee. Maybe I can borrow a toy from Lana.”
Miles gasped as he watched Jade hang up the phone without awaiting Alexander's response, a smirk playing around his lips as he shook his head in disbelief. “Bella...”
Jade raised an eyebrow with both Lana's and Miles' gazes on her. “What?” she shrugged. “He can do business all day, spend it however he wants, I won't get in his way.”
“Bella, 'e's gunna feel disrespected...”
“Yeah, he always does,” she said. “And he should. Saying he's not big on Valentine's Day and then expecting me to be there when he wakes up, maybe suck him off, make him coffee...”
Miles laughed. “Ya dun't need teh rile 'im up on purpose, eh?” he cackled, taking a sip from his own coffee.
Jade shrugged again. “I'm not gonna spend this day with him and act like it's just another day, like I'm okay with him not appreciating me.”
Less than half an hour later, there was a persistent ring at the door, though before Miles could even open, the member of security Alexander had placed at his apartment opened the door and Alex strode inside confidently, now dressed in a well-fitted suit in a merlot red velvet, the top few buttons of the black shirt underneath undone and revealing his chain and his sun-kissed chest. His hair was slicked back, a few strands falling over his forehead loosely and his fingers were clutched around two black velvet boxes, Helders stood behind him holding a bouquet of white roses in the other hand.
Jade straightened up where she sat on the counter, placing down her cup and looking at him with an eyebrow raised expectantly.
“Jade, c'mere.”
Despite her desire to frustrate him, despite having expect a different reaction entirely, certainly not him showing up so quickly, she couldn't suppress the instant curiosity his presence evoked within her, she was aching to open the gifts he'd evidently brought for her, she wanted to run her fingers through his hair, feel him relax if she ran her hand down the velvet material of his suit and having left early in the morning before he was awake, she craved his touch desperately, longed for his hands on her, the feeling of his lips hard and possessive against hers and she slid off the kitchen counter, her sparkly red heels clicking on the floor as she made her way over to him.
There was a fire in his eyes, an intensity she could hardly hold with her own gaze and as soon as she was close enough, his hand came down on her hip, then made its way to her lower back, pressed flat against the small of her back to pull her flush against him, his scent overwhelming her instantly.
“Jade,” he drawled, his upper lip stretching as he spoke, attempting to focus on the calm confidence his gesture carried rather than the nerve she'd allowed herself. “Did yeh realleh fookin' fink I wouldn't 'ave anehfin' for yeh todeh?” he asked, his voice deep, strained.
The depth in his chocolate brown gaze, the unshakable authority weakened her knees as well as it instilled a sense of realisation within her that she should have known better, how ridiculous it had been despite everything to think he would not use today of all days as another excuse to absolutely spoil her.
“Got a'ead of yehrself, eh?” he hummed. “I were joost teasin' yeh last night.” He knew he should not have felt so strongly about her winding him up when he'd done nothing but the same, both their impulses driven too far by the shared passion that drew him to her.
“What's this?” she asked, refusing to allow him the satisfaction of knowing he was right.
He smirked, handing her the small box first and she eagerly popped it open, her eyes widening at the pair of diamond earrings, reflective and shiny in the light and paired with an arrangement of emerald that sparkled just the same and perfectly matched the stone between her collarbones, and Alex knew that swallowing his pride and allowing her what she'd wanted was worth it merely for the look in her eyes, the glimmer of excitement, the pure joy as she took off the silver earrings she'd been wearing to replace them with the shiny new pieces, tilting her slender neck so he could see.
“Beau'iful, as predicted,” he drawled, licking his lips, then letting go of her to open the larger box in his hands, revealing a delicate headband, sparkling and covered completely in diamonds, an abundance of emeralds and jades raised in the middle to form the prongs of a crown.
Her eyes widened and she stepped closer to him, her lips parted in awe. “Alexander...”
He smirked at her unfiltered reaction, the pure excitement that spread across her features. “So yeh can feel like proper royalteh.”
Without another word from her, he took the generously jewelled item out, handing the empty box back to Helders before setting down the shiny tiara on her head, the heavy feeling of it only making her smile grow wider. “You're unbelievable.”
With his hands now free, he placed one on her hip again, the other cupping the side of her face and drawing her in, his lips crashing against hers and kissing her eagerly, the plush feeling of her lips, the heat of them, the desperate whimper that left her lips making his grip on her tighten.
She moaned needily when he drew back too soon, but her eyes fell shut instantly again as he angled back her neck and his kisses trailed down her jaw, his lips sucking, kissing lightly on her neck, skimming over her throat, her heart pounding as her body curved into his.
“Tha's not all I've got for yeh...” he rasped, his voice like velvet, his lips close to her ear. “Gunna take yeh down teh the car 'n weh're gunna 'ave a glass of Deau, eh?”
She breathed shakily, her fingers clutching on to his shoulder as his teeth sunk into her soft skin for merely a second, his breath ghosting over her neck.
“I got yeh tha' scent yeh was eyein' the other day, wif the gold” he added. “There's two Bordelle sets waitin' for yeh in the car as well...”
“Alexander...” she whispered.
He chuckled, reveling in the way she surrendered to him so willingly. “Got ya one of them toys wif the sonic waves...”
He felt her breath hitch in her throat as he spoke, pressing a kiss to her collarbone before angling her head to his level, waiting for her eyes to flutter open. “Yeh can use it wif me permission,” he stated. “Jade, look at meh.”
The depth of his voice, the promises had her melting for him, her heart pounding as she opened her eyes and met his. “I'm sorry,” she said, knew that given the extravagance of him, it was due.
He chuckled, shaking his head, his lip twitching. “Weh're goin' teh Paris,” he stated with a small smile, watching the excitement, the disbelief flicker across her face yet again with immense content. “There's a new dress, new 'eels 'n a bag yeh've wanted waitin' for yeh in the car too. 'n I'm gunna take out teh buy sum more nice fings when weh're on Avenue Montaigne.”
“W-Where are we staying?” she asked quietly to cover for the absolute wonder she knew was already evident in her expression, her hand smoothing down his shoulder.
He chuckled. “'s a loveleh spa 'otel, I booked it weeks ago. 'n the restaurant 'as the finest desserts in all of France. 'n the best lobster. I kno' the chef.”
She hung on to his every word, pressing herself closer to him, ready to say or do anything he could possibly ask of her.
He reached out to brush her hair back, trapping her chin between his fingers, his gaze still locked on hers as he spoke. “'n when weh get teh the room I'm gunna fook yeh so good, yeh won't question meh again.”
She could have dropped to her knees for him right then there, opening her mouth to speak, but found herself drawn out of the spell he had her under when she heard a slow clap staring behind her, turning to look over her shoulder to Kane grinning and clapping.
“Bravo,” he cackled. “Get out of 'ere then.”
Jade licked her lips, looking back to Alexander. “All of that for me?” She pursed her lips, tilting her head slightly and reaching to run her fingers through his hair. “Maestro?”
He was almost unable to suppress the immense satisfaction her words instilled within him, the smug smile playing around his lips threatening to get out of control. “'course, principessa,” he drawled. “The best ain't good enouf for me Jade.”
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symflash · 5 years
Text
Ultimate Spider-Man Symflash headcanons
Because I can’t write, I can’t draw, and I can’t pay other people to do it for me.
* The symbiote that's with Flash is a fragment of the larger chunk of symbiote that went down with the Helicarrier in season 1, episode 26, and not the brand new symbiote created in season 3, episode 2. Consequently, they remember Harry, but not the time the Goblin injected Peter with Venom (different fragment).
* Also, in this continuity, "Venom" is actually the name the symbiote picked for themself.
* Venom was a blank slate at their birth, like an infant, with zero concept of morals or social mores. They might've been able to suss it out by osmosis from their hosts' brains, if their most long-term host hadn't been Harry "I hate my dad and I wish he was dead" Osborn.
* Flash's and Venom's first dance as Agent Venom went something like this: Venom: “Okay, I think I've cracked the code. Every time I assert my personhood separate from my host, I get electrocuted to smithereens. So maybe if I... pretend to be an inanimate object, act super low-key, this new host won't notice, and I can delay my next near-death experience.” Flash: "This is awesome! You're awesome! What's your name? I'm Flash! Do you wanna be friends? Do you like football? Do you know what football is?" Venom: *tears streaming down their metaphorical face* "wHAt tHe fUcK Is goINg oN"
* That was not the moment Venom decided to bind themselves permanently to Flash, though. That happened after Beetle tried to hit them with a sonic blast. Venom was in pain, and Flash was telling them not to be scared, because Spider-Man would help them, they could trust Spidey. That was Venom's first exposure to the concept of trust. And after they saw that trust paid off, they decided to trust Flash. And their trust paid off. Flash: "Did you hear that, buddy? You won't have to leave after all! Isn't this great?" Venom:
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* Flash's training period at SHIELD was mostly dedicated to teaching human morality to Venom and training himself to not refer to himself as "we" (it gives the people with the sonic guns twitchy trigger fingers).
* Sure, I could NOT shoehorn in Flash's comic book backstory. But I'm a slut for cheap angst, so I'm gonna. ** Flash didn't so much live at the gas station as he squatted there after running away from home. ** The smell of alcohol is a trigger for him. He drops off the radar on his 21st birthday because he's terrified his friends will try to take him to a bar.
* Flash and Venom converse telepathically more often than they let on. They like to do Mystery Science Theatre 3000 running commentaries during boring meetings. They also do a psychic duet of Bohemian Rhapsody whenever a known mind reader walks into the room. Just in case.
* Venom thinks the fact that Flash was The Very First Host They Ever Took is the most romantic thing ever. ("It was destiny!") Flash is just embarrassed that their first meeting was so inauspicious. ("You came out of a toilet and I tried to feed Pete to you.")
* Venom can do a bang-up impersonation of Harry, and you can bet they use it to make fun of him at any opportunity. ** "Hurr burr, I have a limousine, a penthouse home and billions of dollars, and when my favorite Spider-Person doesn't reciprocate my gay crush *choking up* I don't cry about it."
* There was a brief period after "Anti-Venom" where Venom was too weak to speak to Flash, and Flash wasn't sure if they were dead or alive. ** Of course he cried; slut for cheap angst, remember?
* Flash has undiagnosed dyslexia. He didn't figure it out until Venom asked him why letters wiggle for him but not for Harry.
* Venom likes dandelions, especially ones growing out of cracks in the sidewalk. ** "They're considered weeds and eradicated on sight, and yet they're strong enough to break through rock, and hardy enough to survive in environments that would be inhospitable to all other plants. It's just... poeticcinema.jpg." *** "Buddy, you can beam a crisp and clear mental impression of any picture directly into my brain. There's literally no reason for you to say 'dot jay peg' out loud, ever."
* Peter & Co. keep making references to stuff Venom did that Venom has no memory of (because there's an entire branch of symbiotes that diverged from them, so they literally weren't around for those events). Flash decides to investigate and pulls up all SHIELD case reports about Venom. That's the first time he finds out how many symbiotes SHIELD has killed or attempted to kill. Venom can only shrug their metaphorical shoulders. People have been trying to murder them nearly from the moment of their birth. They didn't have a point of reference, so they'd just sort of assumed it was a normal part of life. They don't really understand why Flash is crying. And that makes Flash cry harder. ** And that's the story of how Flash got over his crush on Peter. *** Venom doesn't see much point in holding grudges. After all, if they ever express anger or try to retaliate over their treatment, they'll be stuffed in a jar at best and incinerated alive at worst. Luckily, Flash is a finely-tuned rage producing machine; he can be angry on both of their behalf.
* Flash encourages Venom to have their own hobbies separate from him. To facilitate this, Venom has permission to drive around Flash's body while he sleeps, provided they don't stray away from SHIELD headquarters and wake Flash up if there's an emergency. ** Venom likes looking up video tutorials for random things. And because they share a brain with Flash, he ends up learning things by proxy. (The morning he woke up fluent in American Sign Language was a trippy one). *** They're also into videogame speedruns, of all things.
* Scarlet Spider would very much like to forget the time he got up for a midnight snack and found Flash, with solid black eyes, hunching on top of a vending machine like a goblin, attempting to insert three chocolate bars into his mouth at once.
* Venom is the only one allowed to call Flash "Eugene". They're very territorial of their monopoly.
* Venom has a dim, dim view of father figures. Their genetic progenitor tried to murder them multiple times, and their only second-hand experiences of fathers are, well, Norman Osborn and Harrison Thompson.
* What's the point of having a foot long tongue if you don't use it to lick the bottom of your ice cream carton?
* Venom and Flash have such divergent music tastes, they need to have two separate playlists. (Flash likes punk rock and hair metal, Venom's into eurodance and chiptunes.)
* Incomplete list of animals Flash unironically thinks are cute: tarantulas ("Fuzzy!"), snakes ("Their tongues go blelele!"), amblypygids ("They cuddle their babies!"), velvet worms ("Their feet are so stubby!")
* Flash is actually pretty insecure about being Venom's host. He feels the only reason they stick with him is because he was the first person to be nice to them, and they could do better. ** Flash: "I mean, you give me superpowers, the means to get away from my old life, the opportunity to be somebody... but what do I give you in return? Maybe Doc Ock was right... maybe I AM a parasite." Venom:
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* Actually, Flash is insecure about a lot of things. He's afraid Peter secretly resents him for the years of bullying, he fears that he's just fooled everyone into thinking that he's a good person and really he's just as much of a monster as his father, he's scared he's too stupid to make anything of himself and he'll become a deadbeat... it's a bunch of separate but interlocking self-esteem issues. ** Venom helps, though. It's useful to have an outside perspective to your own brain.
* Flash initially calls Venom an "it", because they're genderless and he doesn't have a lot of insight into gender politics and pronouns. He later learns about they/them pronouns, and asks if he can use it for Venom. Venom, who's used to being called "it" and knows even less about personal pronouns, is confused. They have a long discussion about dehumanizing language that ends with Venom shrugging their metaphorical shoulders and going "Sure, if it makes you feel better".
* Being a couple kind of sneaks up on them. In their defense, both of them have little to no experience in giving or receiving affection; they have trouble distinguishing different kinds of love (hence why Flash thought his giant gay crush on Peter was just wanting to be his best buddy).
* Cons of wearing actual clothes instead of a shapeshifted symbiote: Doing laundry. Pros of wearing actual clothes: Nobody can tell you're giving your boyfriend a fullbody cuddle under his shirt in public.
* They're both super affectionate and flirty. They both get super flustered and embarrassed when receiving affection and being flirted at. Together, they are a disaster.
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Chapter 54 - Clowns, tattoos and flamingos
In the previous chapter: they’ve just met again and Grace can’t stand Stone’s excessive sweetness and affection. She blurts it out to him, only to discover it was just some kind of test the guitarist set up to find out her intentions. They talk it out and decide to take things slowly with their relationship. Meg has to deal with two guys who try to hit on her then has a quick exchange with Mike Starr. She “uses” him to make McCready jealous and gets angry when she sees him apparently acting silly with two girls. A few days pass and Angie, suddenly gifted with a free day, goes to Eddie’s apartment with the excuse of bringing him cake before the show at the Off Ramp that evening. They spend the afternoon together, Angie’s still tense when she’s with him and feels stupid for that but she slowly loosens up a bit. Jeff comes back home and breaks up their romance. Angie leaves with an excuse. Eddie follows her to get a “proper” goodbye with a kiss and asks her about their relationship because he wants to know where this is going. And that’s what she secretely wants to know too. They make it clear that they are a couple.
**
“JESUS. CHRIST.” and Eddie finally meets my sonic bomb “WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?”
“It’s just my alarm clock” I stretch out to turn it off and turn around, finding him sittin in the bed, his hair covering half of his face.
“So much for an alarm clock… sounds like a fucking air raid siren” he goes on, looking at nothing in front of him with his only half closed eye I can see.
“I’m a heavy sleeper” I explain as I put my arms under the pillow and bury my face in it.
“I see” I feel him slowly shifting under the blankets until he comes close and reaches out for me with a hug.
“You never sleep, you can’t understand” I turn on my side and my face is just inches from his.
“Now I slept very good though” he kisses me lightly on my lips, dry an rough like sandpaper against his soft ones.
“Double bed is confy, huh?” I mean, I surely don’t complain when we snuggle up on his single bed to sleep.
“Sure, ‘cause it’s all about the bed, obviously” his embrace tightens and I know getting up this morning will be double difficult.
“I’m sorry I woke you up from one of your best sleeping times. Today I work an awful shift” I try and let go of him but Eddie intertwines his legs with mine to keep me from moving.
“I need to have a serious chat with Jack…” he starts showering my face with kisses, from my cheek, then towards my ear, then again on my cheek pretty close to the corner of my mouth.
“Hehe I wish I was working at the mini mart, I’d go to work in my pjs. And I wouldn’t get up at a quarter to six”
“A QUART- err, sorry… it’s a fucking quarter to six in the morning?” Eddie yells into my ear for a second, then settles for a volume more suitable for dawn.
“Yeah. I work the breakfast-shift at Roxy's” I sigh and it looks like my morning misfortune is getting me extra cuddle.
“Since when?”
“Since I have to return the favour to people who covered my shifts for me when I was away”
“Uh. It’s my fault then” Eddie props his head up on an elbow on the pillow and gazes down at me.
“Ehehe no, well, it’s not”
“I’m sorry” he gives me a pouty face that would knock me out if I weren’t already lying down.
“No problem, it was worth it” I try and untangle my legs from him but the dumbass won’t let me.
“Oh really?” I can see the glimpse in his eyes even in the half darkness of my room.
“Yes”
“Well, in that case…” he dives down and kisses me, running his fingers through my hair, then backs up on his back on the bed trying to pull me over him.
“Eddie… I gotta get up” I try and resist between kisses but I’m not exactly convinced in the first place.
“Five minutes” he replies pushing himself and me on my side of the bed once again.
I grab his t-shirt, shut my eyes and in a few seconds he seals my eyelids with kisses, then my lips again, while his hair tickle my face and arrange itself independently as to shielding us both like a tent.
“Eddie?” I don’t really know how much time has passed but I try and catch his attention the moment he slows down with kisses.
“Five minutes” he repeats, rubs on my leg then holds on to it and kisses me with more passion.
The fact I’ve been getting accostumed to Eddie’s lovely torturing techniques for the past ten days doesn’t mean I learned how to keep a cool head in these moments. Actually he kisses me for more than five seconds and I fucking lose my mind, and I don’t mean figuratively. Also when he’s just thinking about kissing me, while I’m talking normally or saying some stupid shit, that is basically the same thing, and he breaks eye contact with me and starts looking around until he sets his eyes on the lower part of my face, as if he tried to read my lips; when he’s still in that moment of reflection, that I’ve now learned to recognize, that comes right before the approach and the attack, my words regularly begin to sound muffled and totally unnecessary, and my head becomes lighter, so light that if it wasn’t for him holding me up with a kiss, it would probably fall off my neck.
“Eddie” I try again as he’s busy giving me light and subtle pecks going from my chin to my jawline. He hooks his finger under the collar of my pyjama top and pulls it aside to kiss my shoulder.
“Eddie?”
“Mm?” he mumbles withough interrupting his business.
“Come on… I gotta… open… the diner” the little shit turns his kisses into bites right when I speak and makes it difficult for me to open my mouth without losing track of my words and keeping my breath regular.
“One minute left”
“Roxy’s… she’s gonna… ugh… kick my ass, Eddie, com-me ooon” he keeps his game going and I’m so close I can see the corner of his mouth curl up in a grin.
Obviously getting up from this bed is the last thing I’d do now but, really, if I’m late today that I have to open the restaurant, I’ll be dead.
“I’ll give you a ride so you’ll get there on time, ok?” he suggests and stops kissing me for a while, covering my shoulder back up and staring at the imaginary lines he’s drawing on the fabric of my pyjama with his fingers.
“Ok” it takes me a while to answer, enchanted by his touch and the sound of his deep breath.
“Fine” he loosens his grip on my thigh and gives me a small peck on the lips. Then another. Then one more, then two more, three… With his free hand he gently strokes my hair and forehead.
“Eddie”
“Thirty… twenty-nine… twenty-eight…” he starts whispering every time his lips touch mine and it makes me laugh. But that doesn’t prevent him from keeping on going.
“These seconds are veeery long” I joke after a while, pretending to check an imaginary watch on my wrist.
“TEN, NINE, EIGHT…” Eddie’s kiss are shorter and faster and he counts loudly at every smack “TWO, ONE” and instead of zero there’s one last long and delicious kiss.
Eddie untangles his legs from mine, pulls away from me and rolls on his side of the bed with a sigh. Am I still able to breathe? I don’t know. Looks like I can. With difficulty, I pull myself up sitting on the bed, I push the duvet aside and swing my legs off the bed to get up. I’m feeling the floor around with the tip of my toes searching for my slippers, as I stretch out my limbs and let out a huge yawn, when I suddenly feel two very strong hands grabbing my hips and pulling me back on the bed.
“What the-” I can barely register what’s happening, I’m immediately silenced by Eddie’s mouth and it seems like he’s trying to devour my lips with kisses that are… rougher? Yeah, I think that’s the word, rough and impatient. With a quick move of his knee between my legs he widens them and crawls in between and literally crashes down on me, as he keeps showering me with kisses and caressing me everywhere. As a reflex, I tighten my legs slightly and the movement doesn’t go unnoticed because Eddie starts grinding his hips and rubbing himself against me.
Fuck. It’s happening.
I guess the time has come. Unexpectedly? I wouldn’t say that, we’ve been dating for a couple of weeks, I knew we’d have soon gone from making out to something more. Actually I was expecting it to happen earlier. We’ve been spending the last three nights at home together with the excuse of the rain, the cold weather, not being in the mood to go out and having to wake up early. I slept at his place twice thanks to Jeff being at Laura’s apartment. I thought (and well, yeah, hoped) that the forced proximity caused by Eddie’s single bed would have inevitably led us to sex. But it didn’t happen. That’s why last night, since I knew Meg would have come home late, because of the rain, the cold, I don’t know, the locusts and some other shit, I asked him to come over. The comfort of my double bed could maybe help the natural course of things. Nothing. As usual, Eddie took his time for kissing and cuddling and torturing, and god bless that, but when he said Good night and I felt his grip on me slowly loosen up as he drifted off to sleep, I knew nothing would have happened. And I actually felt a little bad about it. It’s true that I’m very nervous about this and also kind of worried and I also feel slightly intimidated whenever a certain line is crossed and we get too close… Ok, I’m just scared and I feel stupid about it. But the idea to make it with him doesn’t only inspire unjustified terror but well, obviously, also a whole wide spectrum of very different emotions. And all the emotions are gathering together in this moment, which is not exactly the right one. I mean, Eddie, we got a lot of chances before, and you make up your mind just today that I have to open the diner?? And where the hell are my hands? I always ask myself this question whenever I’m with Eddie for a reason. And as a matter of fact, my arms lie randomly still on the bed, one is on the pillow, with my fingers entangled in my hair, the other one hanging freely off the bed. I join my hands behind Eddie’s neck. He responds sliding his hand inside my pyjama pants and strongly grabbing my ass cheek. The vehemency of the act surprises me and I let out something between a yelp and a groan, because obviously I can’t help making a complete ass of myself even before my first time with the perfect guy. Eddie grins against my lips and gives me another squeeze, which later turns into a pat and a stroke from my butt to my hips.
“I’ll go make coffee” the sexiest voice asks this question and of course I don’t understand shit because I don’t even know where I am. I only know I can’t feel his body on mine anymore, and neither his touch.
“Huh?” I open my eyes and see him as he lifts up on his arm and pulls his hair back with the other hand to keep it away from his face.
“I mean, I’ll go and get dressed quickly and make coffee while you shower and get ready so we can save time”
“Uh! Y-yeah, ok”
“Ok” Eddie leans on me for a quick kiss on my lips, still holding his hair back with his hand, then jumps out of bed and a second later he already has his pants on. He’s about to open the door, then turns towards me one more time “No milk, no sugar, right?”
“Yes, thanks” I reply to his cruel display of cheekbones and dimples and he’s out of here right after that.
Right, no sugar for me this morning.
**
“God, it’s not even 10!” Steffy complains behind the counter, focused on cutting oranges for the juice, and I hear the bad news too.
“What the fuck?” as I pass the umpteenth order to Brian in the kitchen, I look at the clock on the wall and have the sad confirmation.
“Yeah, time won’t pass today” poor girl, she isn’t used to this shift either.
Yet we got a lot of customers today and when there’s a lot of work, time usually goes fast, especially in the morning. But that’s not happening today.
“Aren’t those your friends?” I turn around at Steffy’s questions and I almost drop the tray I’ve just taken with everything on it when I see Eddie, Stone and Mike in the middle of the room, looking around in search of a table.
“Yes, they are” Stone finds a place in Steffy’s sector and points it to the others, while Eddie spots me and nods at me as soon as we make eye contact. Strangely enough I remember how to keep my balance, food gets safely to the table in the corner and I can go back to take the other dishes.
“Take care of them, let’s swap, ok?” the blond girl smiles at me and walks away with pen and notepad in her hands, welcoming a group of girls sitting at a table that was supposed to be mine.
I take a deep breath and go to meet the three. Come on, they’re friends, arent’ they? And they can’t read minds, as far as I know. Anyway since things with Eddie have err… changed, I always feel awkward around the guys. On one hand it’s like I’m afraid of letting them know inadvertently, on the other hand I feel guilty because of this secret. Because I’m hiding something from them that, to a certain extent, involves them too. And I feel guilty towards Eddie, ‘cause I know he doesn’t like this at all. I play dumb, get to their table and I’m about to open my mouth when the juke box unexpectedly starts calling me.
Angelina, Angelina, please bring down your concertina
And play a welcome for me ‘cause I’ll be coming home from sea
“You don’t know anything about this, right?” I look at them as they silenty chuckle.
“You won’t believe that” Mike starts.
“Yeah, actually I already don't”
“He hasn’t said anything yet” Stone complains.
“I don’t believe you on mistrust”
“We were round there looking for a table and my eye came right across this song” Gossard adds, mimicking the scene with the juke-box-shaped napkin dispenser.
“How fortunate” I keep my hands on my hips in a threatening position.
“It’s a very happy song” Mike chimes in trying to make things better.
“And it really suits her, look at her” Stone jokes pointing at my bitchy face and they all laugh, Eddie included. And he hasn’t spoken a word yet.
“What do you want to eat?” I roll my eyes and then look down at my notepad, holding the pen, ready to take their orders.
“I’ll have a Big Bopper with caramel sauce. And a cup of coffee” Stone answers.
“Coffee for me too, possibly intravenous, darling” Mike bares his arm and holds it out dramatically on the table towards me. Maybe it’s just me but I have the feeling that, since things between Meg and him got more complicated, Mike’s doing everything to be funny and kind to me. I’m not saying he’s not sincere, maybe he’s just afraid he could come out as colder or more distant since he and my friend are avoiding each other. So he’s always cracking jokes or calling me names to give the idea nothing’s changed between us.
“Hehe and don’t you want anything to eat?”
“No, thanks. I’ll eat some of Stone’s pancakes”
“No fuckin'way, buy something for yourself!”
“But that’s a huge portion, you couldn’t eat it all by yourself not even if you wanted to”
“You don’t know me well yet then”
“Come oooon”
“And if I got leftovers, rather than give them to you, I’d feed them to the first stray dog I meet on the road. Or to Jeff Ament. That is basically the same thing”
I enjoy the fight between the two and make eye contact with Eddie, who smiles at me but seems completely unaffected by what his friends are saying.
“Eddie, what about you? What will you eat?” I ask and focus back on the notepad.
“Uhm let me see… surely something to eat because I’m starving…” Eddie takes the menu and starts examining it now “Also because I only had a quick coffee this morning”
“Oh really??” I ask him abruptly, maybe too much, so that the guitarists give me a puzzled look.
“Yeah, I was in a hurry, kind of” he goes on and Stone’s about to open his mouth, surely to ask him the reason for that, and I can’t let him.
“Ok so I suggest Big Kahuna, which is the most nutritious thing we have in the menu! What do you want with your eggs? You can choose between plain potatoes or hash brown, of course I’ll write not to give you bacon. Wait, you eat eggs, right? Hehe I always forget, are you vegetarian or vegan? Sorry, I’m dumb” I begin blathering on leaving the guys speechless. Eddie gives me the same perplexed look he gave me the first time we met, right in this diner, while I was spewing random words out at him. There was no audience back then though. And why did I remember this right now? And why are my knees shaking?
“Yeah yeah, I eat them but now… I’m more in the mood for something sweet.” Eddie says hiding a little smile behind the menu “I’ll take a Wake up, little Susie”
“Oh great! What will you have with waffles?”
“Chocolate syrup and hazelnuts” he closes the menu and holds it out at me.
“Would you like whipped cream too?” I try and take the menu from him but he won’t let go.
“Yes, thank you” he basically electrocutes me on the spot with his smile and lets go of the menu.
“You didn’t ask me if I wanted it!” Stone pouts and Mikes laughs at his face.
“Would you like whipped cream with your pancakes too, Stone?”
“God no, I hate it, but thanks all the same” he gives me a huge grin and hands me his and Mike’s menus.
“I’ll be back soon” I tear them off his hands and walk away.
I slip the order to the kitchen and take the coffee pot Steffy had just prepared. I fill the cups and bring them to the three weirdos table. One of them also happens to be particularly attractive today.
Drea-ea-ea-ea-eam, dream dream dream
Drea-ea-ea-ea-eam, dream dream dream
When I want you in my arms
When I want you and all your charms
Whenever I want you all I have to do is
Drea-ea-ea-ea-eam, dream dream dream
What if they selected this one too… Nah, it can’t be.
“Hot coffee with cold milk cream for Stone, my favorite one that is black for Mike and two sugar spoons for Eddie”
“Eddie didn’t ask you for coffee” Mike squints at me suspiciously.
“Oh. That’s true. Well, I gave it for gra-”
“You did fine, I really need to recharge batteries.” Eddie takes the cup in his hands while mine’s still there too and our fingertips lightly brush against each other for a second before I pull mine back.
“Early wake up, huh?” Gossards says and hides behind a sip of his coffee.
“Hehe yeah. And it was hard. I never ever wanted to get out of that bed…” he replies to Stone but he’s actually talking to me and I can’t do nothing but run away with the excuse of meeting new customers.
I take another couple of orders and from the kitchen they pass me the dishes for the guys. I put them on a tray and basically throw everything on their table before leaving, trying to avoid any other potentially embarrassing exchange.
Little bitty pretty one
Come on and talk to me
Lovey dovey lovey one
Come sit down on my knee
I give the paper bag containing two muffins and coffee to go to a guy with a nice fluo green mohawk, who left me the change as a tip. I try and keep my feet still whereas they’d love to keep the rhythm of the song by Thurston Harris, I take a glance at my friends table and meet Eddie’s eyes. This time he winks at me. Is he the author of this music selection? The strawberry shaped kitchen clock hanging under the counter beeps and that only means one thing: it’s time to clean the restroom and it’s up to me now. A brief look at the room to check everything’s calm and leave for the bathroom. The conditions are less desperate than I thought but I still don’t understand why women’s toilet is always the worst. I’m mopping the floor to La Bamba when I hear the door opening.
“The floor is wet, be careful”
“I will, thank you” that voice makes me snap with the mop in my hands and I end up pointing it right at his face.
“Eddie!”
“I come in peace” he puts his hands up and giggles at me.
“Why are you here?”
“Why do you usually go to the toilet?”
“And do you need to go now?”
“Yeah, it seems so… can’t I? And can you please put that thing down? It’s pretty threatening”
“I’ve just cleaned” I answer as I lower my guard and the mop and put it against the wall.
“I know, I swear I’ll take aim and hit the target right” one more wink, one more shitty grin before putting his hands down and get into one of the men’s stalls.
I shake my head and take the mop back. Why did I put it down then? What was I thinking? That Eddie’d come close and kiss me? At the restroom? Wow, Angie, aren’t you getting too romantic? I wash the bucket and the mop, I get out of the bathroom and with the keys I have hanging from a chain around my neck I open the closet that is exactly on the opposite side of the hallway, where I put everything away and look for garbage bags, paper towels and the yellow Wet Floor sign. I can’t hear who’s silently sneaking behind my back.
“Angie”
“Yeah?” I turn around and Eddie’s answer is taking my face between his hands and kissing me, the closet door shielding us from the rest of the world.
“What the hell are you doing?!” I protest in a low voice pushing him away.
“I washed my hands, I swear” he jokes and I’d slap him but slaps make noise and catch the attention, so I can’t.
“Eddie, stop joking”
“Aw come on, I wanted to kiss you… isn’t it obvious?” he gestures for me to listen.
Well when I was a young man, never been kissed
I got to thinking it over how much I had missed
So I got me a girl and I kissed her and then, and then
Oh lordy, well I kissed her again
Because she had kisses sweeter than wine…
“How many coins did you put into that fucking thing? Did you rob a church or something?”
“May god forgive me” he shakes his head and kisses me again, this time a little longer, before I push him away once again.
“Stop it! Someone could see us”
“I just borrowed some, I’ll give the money back to the priest tomorrow, trust me”
“What if Mike or Stone or both see us?” I ignore his jokes.
“Oh yeah. That would be a tragedy. Real drama. We can’t let it happen” he nods with a straight face then kisses me again, this time pushing me hard against the closet door, which opens wide and potentially makes us visible to a small part of the dining room.
“Is that what you’re trying to do? The subtleties, the jokes, the subliminal messages through songs, the attack at the bathroom… You’re trying to get us caught, aren’t you?” I take control of the situation and pull the closet door back behind me.
“I’m not doing it on purpose. I’m not doing anything. I just think it wouldn’t be so bad if they saw us kiss, like, who cares? It’s no big deal” he shrugs. And gets on my nerves.
“Yeah, no big deal, right? After all it’s only a favor I asked you, what’s the big deal? Just because something is important for me, it doesn’t mean it has to be for you too. I mean, who cares, right? You might as well have told them already” I take all the stuff I need, lock the closet, go past Eddie and back to the restroom.
“They don’t know anything.” Eddie follows me and stops at the doorway. I don’t reply and just look up at him “I didn’t tell them anything and I won’t tell them as long as you don’t want them to know”
“Ok” I open the paper towels dispenser and fill it up.
“And yeah, songs are messages, but they’re for you”
“Ok” I put the new garbage bags in the bins.
“And if you listen carefully, you’ll find out they’re not even that subliminal”
“Alright”
“I’m sorry” Eddie’s leaning against the sink, hands in pockets, staring at the floor.
“No, I am sorry” I walk up to him and bow down trying to meet his eyes and get back face to face with him.
“Hehe I think I’d better go back to the dining room” he smiles and looks up.
“Same here or Steffy will start cursing me if more people enter” I stand straight too and at this point I expect one last kiss from Eddie. Instead he pulls his hand out of his pocket and gently strokes my cheek, he smiles and just leaves like that.
I freeze in the middle of the restroom and just stand there forever until a high pitched voice wakes me up.
“Is it dry now? Can I?” a kid asks peeping inside through the door.
“Yes, sure, come in” I get out of the bathroom and back to reality as I think that the girl must have skipped school. I get to the dining room and spot two new couples of customers. I ask Steffy and she quickly says they’ve just arrived and I can take it slow. In the meantime I see Eddie standing at the juke box and I can’t help smiling internally. What does he have in store for me now? I look at him as he goes back to the table and takes his seat. Stone and Mike are having an apparently lively debate. I go and meet my new customers.
“Welcome to Roxy’s, I’m Angie. Do you already have an idea or can I recommend you something?”
Bb7 – G7 – D7
Three simple chords that make the intro of a song I love by The Flamingos. And I’m pretty sure Eddie has no idea. I ask the woman who’s just spoken to repeat what she asked, pretending the pen has suddenly stopped functioning, and try to focus.
My love must be a kind of blind love
I can’t see anyone but you
I write down Joe Di Maggio cheeseburger and Fats Domino Deluxe and walk back to the kitchen, barely avoiding a head-on collision with Steffy that luckily I don’t knock down.
Are the stars out tonight
I don’t know if it’s cloudy or bright
I give the note with the orders to the guys in the kitchen and lean against the wall as if I was about to fall.
The moon may be high
But I can’t see a thing in the sky
I only have eyes for you
A quick glance at my friends’ table and I see Stone holding the plate of pancakes in his hands, trying to keep it away from Mike, who dangerously comes close holding a fork. Eddie looks at me, perfectly still behind them.
I don’t know if we’re in a garden
Or on a crowded avenue
Mike stretches himself across the table and manages to steal a piece of pancakes from Stone, he bites it and blatantly chews on it with an open mouth to spite his friend. Eddie shifts on his seat, turning towards me.
You are here
And so am I
Maybe millions of people go by
Stone crumples a paper napkin and throws it at Mike, who takes it and throws it back at him and it ends right into Stone’s coffee cup. Eddie keeps on staring at me, putting one hand on his own cup, maybe to prevent it from being targeted as well, and tapping his fingers against it. From the kitchen I get another tray and quickly take it to the table.
But they all disappear from view
And I only have eyes for you
Once the customers get their food, I make my way back towards the counter. As I walk past the guys, Mike and Stone are subtly throwing food at each other and kicking each other under the table. Eddie’s eyes are following me and I fixate myself senseless on his fingertips running along the brim of his cup, until I crash into the cardboard cutout of Betty Boop in roller skates in the corner.
“Is everything alright?” Steffy asks me as she takes back the luckily empty tray I’ve just dropped on the floor, catching the attention of everybody in the room.
“Yeah yeah! Hehe it just… it just slipped” the juke box goes silent but my thoughts are very loud, especially when I take another look at Eddie, who smiles and looks… satisfied?
********************************************************************************************************************************
This bag weighs a ton. Maybe I got a little carried away at the library. I drag myself across the hallway up to my apartment’s door and it’s basically just adrenaline pushing me forward because thanks to late clubbing with Melanie last night, work shift at the salon, work shift at Roxy’s, the interview and my research, I consumed all my energy reserve. I turn the key into the lock and I can’t wait to jump in my bed face first without even undressing. I get in and notice lights are on in the living room and I guess Angie went out so fast to go see his significant other’s concert that she forgot to turn them off. But the unmistakable sound of someone crunching crispy chips disproves my theory.
“Hi Meg!” she greets me from the couch before I could go and scare her as I always do.
Big fluffy pink robe, blanket on her lap, chips bowl resting on the couch, dish with two still packaged sandwiches in it, glass of water on the coffee table. And without a coaster underneath. Something’s wrong here.
“Angie, hi! What are you doing at home?”
“I… live here? Or maybe I’ve been evicted in the meantime and didn’t get the notification?”
“Why aren’t you at the Off Ramp?” I ignore her joke ‘cause I’m tired and I don’t feel like beating around the bush for an hour with Angie’s non existing problems and mind-fucks before finally getting to the point as usual.
“I woke up at dawn this morning and it’s been a busy day, I’ll pass tonight. They’ll play there next Friday too, so…” Angie hands me the bowl and I grab a handful of chips before sitting next to her on the couch.
“Ok. And why aren’t you at the Off Ramp for real?” it’s true, our friends are playing gigs there basically every week but let’s not kid ourselves, surely there’s some other stupid fucking reason.
“Why do you always think there’s a secret story behind everything?” she asks reading my mind. Nuh, she’s not a wizard, it’s just that she always follows the same mental patterns and keeps repeating her silly schemes.
“Not always, only when it’s about you” I smile and take some more chips.
“Ok ok! I’m not there because I’m tired and… I want to avoid awkward encounters with movie stars like the other night” Angie puts the plate with sandwiches on the table and pouts, crossing her arms.
The last Pearl Jam show, again at the Off Ramp, was chosen by Cameron Crowe as a chance for the cast of the movie he’s about to film here in Seattle to meet each other for the fist time. The choice wasn’t random, Cam wanted the actors to soak up the atmosphere of the local music scene right from the start, since music plays a great role in the city life. And as far as I understood, music will have big space in the movie itself. Angie didn’t take it well, despite her cinematic inclinations.
“Said the woman whose future is a career in the movie industry”
“What’s with that? I wanna write, screenplayers don’t meet actors”
“Yes they do!”
“No they fuckin’ don’t!”
“They do at the Oscars”
“Well I can rest easy then, because I’ll never see an Oscar unless it’s in a picture, Meg”
“Anyway the scene of you hyperventilating in front of Matt Dillon was priceless”
“My god” Angie hides her face into her hands but not for long, because one hand soon dives back into the chips bowl.
“You blanched all of a sudden, I thought you were going to puke on him anytime soon”
“I was close. I get out of the bathroom and find Flamingo Kid just standing there, it’s not something you just see every day”
“Anyway you’ll get used to that, they’ll be around for the whole filming process”
“I hope it’s a short process”
“Hahaha didn’t you ask Cam if you could go and watch?”
“Watching as they’re filming is one thing, Henry Fonda’s granddaughter asking you for a Tampax is something totally different… I’d rather not deal with that”
“Come on, it only happened once, it’s not like they’ll always hang out at the Off Ramp”
“And what if they want to get into character more?”
“Alright your pathologic shyness explains why you’re here and not at the concert. But what about the rest?” I cut the long story short, always because I’m tired of Angie’s shit.
“The rest? What rest?”
“What’s that?” I point at the plate with sandwiches.
“My dinner!” she exclaims and promptly grabs it, as if she’d just remembered about it now.
“Did you come home late?”
“Not really”
“And why is your dinner made of two factory sandwiches and chips?”
“I didn’t feel like preparing anything” she shrugs and turns on the tv as if nothing happened.
“Right, I knew something was wrong, are you feeling ok?” I put my hand on her forehead and she pushes it away laughing.
“Meg, you have to erase this image of me from your mind once and for all, I’m not some kind of Martha Stewart” she shakes her head and starts unwrapping one of the sandwiches.
“You may not be Martha Stewart but… not feeling like making yourself a fucking sandwich,  deliberately ignoring water spots on the table and crumbles on the couch… that’s not you, so let’s cut the crap and just tell me: what’s your problem?”
“There’s no problem!”
“Come on, don’t waste my time. I have big news for you and at the same time I wanna go to sleep so bad, so just tell me, please”
“What news?” she’s about to bite on the sandwich but puts it back in the plate.
“You’ll know if you spill the beans”
“No, please, I wanna know now!”
“You first”
“No, you go first. If I go first we’ll end up talking about me the whole evening and when it’s your turn we’ll only get like five minutes left. This time let’s do it the other way round, you first, then me”
“So you admit you’ve got something to talk about… then!”
“Well… yeah” she confesses looking down at her plate.
“HA! I KNEW THAT!”
“But I’ll keep my mouth shut until you tell me about your fucking news”
“Oh no big deal, I’ve simply figured out what I want to do with my life”
“Wow… no big deal, huh?” she takes again the sandwich and finally bites it.
“Yeah, nothing really”
“Did you see Mike? Did you talk?” she turns to face me and crosses her legs on the couch.
“Mike? What’s that got to do with Mike?”
“Isn’t it about Mike?” I can sense a hint of disappointment in her voice. A horror fan turned into a love stories addict? Since when?
“No, at least, not as you think. It’s about him in the sense that I realized I have to let it go”
“Did you lose hope?” it looks like Angie hasn’t lost it, she looks like someone who’s about to pull out a banner from the couch pillows with CREADY FOR PRESIDENT written on it or something like that.
“I didn’t lose anything. I just understood that I can’t concentrate all my energies into being miserable because of men. Feelings and relationships are wonderful but my life can’t focus just on that” I explain as I take hold of the chips bowl.
“You never did that”
“Oh yes I did, I’ve been doing it lately. My main thoughts being: Matt, Mike, Matt-or-Mike, who wants me, who’s the highest bidder… I mean, I realized that at some point everything started to revolve around someone liking me or not, one of them, both, or someone new. I stopped focusing on the rest, on the stuff that really counts for me. How long is it since I last tested a new face mask on you?”
“My skin impurities are what counts the most for you?” she gives me a side look as she’s finished her first sandwich and cleans her mouth with a napkin.
“You know what I mean. I’ve been studying to become an esthetician and not just as a fall-back but because it’s one of my passions. Yet I stopped keeping up with the new stuff, I stopped committing myself and getting involved and I stopped trying to get any better. I even stopped drawing more or less. I used to draw every single day and not because I wanted to become an artist but because I just couldn’t help it”
“You are an artist, Meg”
“But I set my art and my interests aside and focused on frivolous stuff”
“Being with somebody is not frivolous” Angie unwraps the second sandwich and bites it right away.
“Of course not! But chasing someone who doesn’t want you is. Putting pride aside is one thing, questioning yourself repeatedly and throwing your dignity out of the window is another thing”
“That’s true” she swallows the first bit with a sip of water and emphasize her words with some kind of toast gesture.
“Like it’s frivolous to try to be liked by everyone and find a man, any man. I don’t want a random guy, and most of all I don’t want to be a random girl for anyone”
“What do you mean?”
“In Portland I saw two girls flashing Mike and some of his stupid friends”
“Oh well, that doesn’t mean anything, it’s not like Mi-”
“I know, I know. It’s not that I’m jealous or shit like that. I mean, maybe a little, but that’s not the point. In that moment I got mad but then that scene really made me think. I was just standing there, thinking about how silly Mike was for dumping me and then content himself with chicks like those two, girls that have nothing to offer but their body and their being available. And from there I started thinking and ended up wondering: what about me then? What do I have to offer? What did I give to him? And I realized that the answer was a big nothing”
“What do you mean? Are you trying to say you’re empty? You know you’re not”
“Yeah, I know! I’m not but that’s what I’ve been giving to Mike, especially lately, and to Matt too as little as we had together. Do you know how it all started between Mike and I?”
“Stone hooked him up with you” Angie finishes her sandwich and keeps the plate with wrapping plastic and the used napkin on her lap.
“Yeah, also. He used to come to the diner and I used to go to watch him practice and play at parties, he used to make me mix tapes and I used to give him a drawing I had made on a napkin every day”
“I’m this far from glycemic peak, I warn you” she jokes showing a tiny measure with her fingers.
“When we started dating we used to share everything, we exchanged books, records, I used to tell him about me, my past, what I expected and hoped for my future… And he did the same. But lately, even when things were kinda ok and there were no fights or contrasts between us, there wasn’t actually nothing anymore. Only tension, side remarks, jokes, our well played roles, and sex”
“That’s still al lot…” she mumbles tossing the plate on the small table and this makes me suspicious.  I make a mental note to investigate further later.
“I quit taking care of myself, cultivating me”
“So the big news are you’re gonna finally start taking care of yourself again?”
“Yes. That one. And that I’ll become a tattoo artist”
“Huh?”
As I eat some more chips with Angie, I tell her how I came to this conclusion. Maya, a regular customer at the salon, and also my favorite one, has long since got rid of her abusive, manipulative and violent ex boyfriend, who hurt both her body and her soul. She vented out with me like many women do, as they often mistake the hairdresser’s chair for a therapist’s couch, and it’s not necessarily a bad thing. Between waxes and treatments she showed me the long scar, the last one, that asshole left her as a gift on her belly before ending up in prison right for stabbing her just outside her parents house, since she was hiding there to escape from him. Now Maya wanted to cover that gash with a tattoo: she thought that getting rid of the physical marks that experience had left her would have helped her getting rid, with time, of the emotional scars too. Since she knew I’m good at drawing, Maya asked me to sketch something for her tattoo. Her idea was simple: a bird flying away from an open cage, finally free.
“I felt the weight of responsibility on me and I started working on it immediately. And as I did I realized this sense of responsibility came, ok, surely from the sad story behind it, but also from the idea that something made by me, my creation, would have become part of someone’s looks, for ever. Do you know what I mean?”
“Art for eternity in a strictly human sense?”
“Yes. Also. I don’t know. But, more humbly, the idea that this person would carry around the product of my creativity. That someone else may see it, I don’t know, one day at the beach, and maybe ask her ‘Wow, where did you get that? It’s great, who did it?’ and she’d go ‘Meg McDonald’. Because in my little daydream the drawing is great. It must be at least amazing, it must be the best I can do. And if that’s not enough motivation…”
“Did you draw her tattoo in the end?”
“No. I mean, yeah, I did, but not as she wanted it. And this taught me another lesson about the creative process. I started with some sketches based on her idea but I was never satisfied, there was always something I wasn’t fully convinced about and it took me a while to understand what was out of place. When I figured it out, I talked to her about it and to a certain extent I involved her in the process”
“What was wrong with the bird escaping the cage?” she asks curious.
“The cage”
“What do you mean?”
“The metaphor is elementary, right? The cage is the criminal who tried to kill her, the bird is Maya. Why would she had that drawn on her and always bring it with her, on her skin, although it’s an open cage?”
“Right. The bird flies away and doesn’t look back, it leaves the cage behind”
“Exactly. I told her about it and the talk itself that we had was so… satisfying! She realized her initial idea was a representation of her difficulties in leaving such a violent past behind her and, as an absurd, in letting go of him; on the other hand, I’ve learned a lot about how to communicate an idea”
“What did you draw for her then?”
“I kept the freedom symbol of the bird and added another one, about life: the tree. I drew a tree with twisted trunk and branches that gradually dissolve into a bunch of birds flying away”
“Sounds great! Let me see it!”
“I don’t have it here, Maya has it. Actually her tattoo artist friend has it. He saw it and liked it a lot”
“See? It wasn’t awesome just in your daydream”
“In the end she told him who I am and this guy asked to meet me. I went to the tattoo parlour today”
“What? And why didn’t I know anything about it? Once you used to tell me things”
“My fault, I like talking about you too much” I pat her knee and she rolls her eyes.
“So? What did this guy say? Is he willing to teach you the sacred art of injecting ink under your skin?”
“No”
“What, no?”
“I mean, not yet. He said I have talent but I have to work on it. He thought this was an actual interview and was expecting me to show up with a portfolio or something. I just showed up with nothing. So he held a kind of special lesson for me about the tattoo world. He explained first what I have to do to make sure this is the right choice for me. Then, if the answer is positive, he told me what to do to try and get into that world”
“So don’t you wanna be an esthetician anymore?”
“Sure I want to! I wanna be both. Maybe. Haven’t tattoos got to do with feeling good with yourself, in your own skin? It’s self-expression but also decoration. It’s an aesthetic element that goes deeper”
“This means you’ll open the first beauty salon in America with a tattoo parlour attached?”
“You think you’re kidding me but that’s the idea, more or less. Don’t know if I’m the first though”
“And what do you have to do to get into the clan, according to tattoo guru?”
“Draw, draw as much as I can. Maybe take drawing classes too. Create a decent portfolio worth to look at and start going to different parlours, to apply for an apprenticeship, for free of course”
“Unpaid work? What a twist. That’s basically what you’re already doing at the beauty salon”
“Yep. But I thought about everything! In a couple of months I’ll be done with cosmetology school and I’ll get my degree. With that qualification I’ll be able to find a paid job in that branch and it will surely pay more than serving tables at Roxy’s. And at the same time, I could work for a tattoo artist, that’s if someone actually hires me, and learn as much as I can”
“Don’t you need some kind of licence?”
“Yeah but that comes later. Anyway before all this, there’s the research phase” I add grabbing the bag I threw on the floor beside the couch and dragging it towards me.
“What’s that? Do you go to the gym with Henry too? Or do you just take drugs?” she grins.
“No, I’ve just found a couple of things to get an introduction to the tattoo world” I explain as I pull out all the books I found at the library.
“A couple, huh?”
“It’s not just little drawings, you know. There’s history behind that, cultural and traditional motives. And then there are so many different styles. Oh I got a lot of stuff to study”
“Hehe I see” she remarks as the takes a volume from the pile and starts going through the pages.
“What do you think? I mean, do you think I’m crazy? Be honest…”
“Nuh, you’re not crazy. You’ve just stumbled across one thing, one idea that could eventually turn into a real, tangible project in our future. I can see you’re genuinely involved and interested. The worst thing that can happen is that at some point you may realize that’s not what you want to do. By then you’ll have at least learned something new anyway and fueled your artistic side”
“Thank you, it means a lot to me” and it’s not just something I say, Angie’s opinion weighs in this matter.
“Can I just make an observation?”
“Spit it out”
“You don’t have a single one” she goes on as she looks through other books.
“A single what?”
“Tattoo! You got none. A tattoo artist with no tattoos is a contradiction”
“Well because I never thought about it before. Now I will and I’ll come up with something meaningful for me too”
“By the way if you think I’ll volunteer for you in this too, forget it. You know I’m afraid of pain”
“You said that about waxing too”
“Haha yeah, that’s true! But waxing is not permanent, a tattoo is. And I can’t imagine anything representing me so much and being so… immutable. And that I feel like putting on my skin permanently”
“No big face of Eddie tattoed on your chest then?”
“Fuck you, Meg” Angie sulks and turns around looking away from me, focusing on the news on tv.
“Boobs make for cheekbones”
“Hahaha shut up!”
“Nipples for dimples”
“Will you stop??”
**
“Come on, I needed the joke as an introducion to the part where you do the talking” I collect all my books and the bag.
“Is it time already?”
“Yep” I leave to go to my bedroom to put all my stuff away.
“And how do you know that what I have to say is about Eddie?” she asks when I’m back into the living room.
“Woman’s intuition”
“It could be college stuff”
“You’ve got no exams in the near future. I mean, it’s almost Spring Break”
“What if I hate spring?”
“Haha sure”
“The sudden warmth, humidity”
“Yeah, of course. And pollen”
“Exactly! Pollen! Mosquitos!”
“Angie”
“Having to wear lighter clothes, you know I hate to uncover myself”
“ANGELINA PACIFICO??” I raise my voice and she jumps in her seat.
“Ok ok! It’s about Eddie…”
“What happened?”
“Nothing”
“Angie don’t make me want to yell at you”
“No, you don’t understand. That’s just the problem”
“No, actually, I don’t understand”
“The problem is that nothing has happened, between Eddie and I… yet” she admits nervously and what a better way to cut the tension than laughing at her face?
“HAHAHAHAHA god Angie, you’re so funny”
“It’s nice to know that I can always count on you in difficult times” she gets up with a huff, takes the plate, tears the bowl off my hands and walks away to the kitchen.
“ANGIE, YOU’VE BEEN GOING OUT FOR LIKE ONE DAY, JESUS CHRIST” I shout from the couch
“FIFTEEN, COUNTING FROM WHEN WE KISSED” she replies yelling from the kitchen.
“I see you’ve been flirting for months and this whole story of the oblivious lovers was getting fuckin’ boring and all. But give that poor fucker some time!” I can’t resist and get up to go to the kitchen, where I find her focused on washing the dish under the tap.
“It’s not just that, Meg. I can feel something’s wrong” she explains, still leaning on the sink.
“You can feel it. What the fuck are you feeling? It took you a lifetime only to realize he liked you… actually I’m afraid you’re not fully convinced yet”
“Exactly”
“EXACTLY WHAT?? HOLY SHIT, ANGIE, GO FIND YOURSELF A DOCTOR”
“Meg”
“I thought an ex Psychology student who dropped out on second year would be enough for you but now I believe you need a certified professional, a good one”
“I’m not saying he doesn’t like me” she turns around placing her hands on the edge of the sink.
“THANK GOD, FOR FUCK’S SAKE”
“But maybe he doesn’t like me… to that point”
“I knew there would be a but. What do you mean?”
“He doesn’t like me enough”
“Enough”
“Enough for… wanting to do that… with me”
“Wait, let me know if I got it right…” I sit down because,  yeah, it’s better “You’re telling me you suspect that Eddie finds you beautiful enough to kiss you, cuddle with you, sleep with you, and so on… but not hot enough to fuck you?”
“Well… that’s a very simplistic way to express that but… yeah”
“Since when, Angie?”
“Uhm, I don’t know, I started thinking about it almost from the beginning because he… starts… things and he seems very… into it but then he doesn’t… finish… anything. At some point he just stops and that’s it. He’s just sending me mixed messages”
“No, I mean, since when do you smoke crack?”
“Hahaha please”
“Because there’s no other explanation to such bullshit. How can you ever come up with something like that? How can you think of that?”
“Well, it can be”
“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT, ANGIE?? That just doesn’t exist”
“Sure it exists. And it’s got a name too”
“Paranoia?”
“Martin”
“Martin?”
“Martin’s syndrome”
“Who the fuck is Martin?”
“My ex”
“Uh another one of your usual fucking syndromes, I see” I rub my hands on my face trying to stay sane. Angie’s shitty talks make me lose hundreds of brain cells each time.
“I told you about Martin, didn’t I?”
“The one you dated although you weren’t that much into him”
“No, it’s not that I wasn’t that much into him. I really didn’t like him. I mean, I liked him a lot as a person, he was funny, interesting, smart, sweet, caring but not clingy or naggy. I mean he was perfect, at least as for high school standards. But…”
“… but he was ugly as shit”
“He wasn’t ugly as shit! He was just a regular guy. I just wasn’t remotely attracted to him. But I dated him all the same because I liked the idea of having a boyfriend”
“Angie, listen to me: how fuckin’ old were you when you dated Martin?”
“Fifteen”
“Great. Now, how old is Eddie?”
“That has absolutely no-”
“Shut up and answer my question, how old is he?”
“How can I answer if I have to shut up?” her raised eyebrow gets me nervous.
“ANGIE, PLEASE, I DON’T WANNA CURSE, DON’T MAKE ME”
“Twenty-six! He’s twenty-six years old, just calm down”
“Oh it was easy, wasn’t it! Anyway you got your answer”
“Obviously Eddie’s doesn’t act like a fifteen year-old”
“Yeah, obviously. Eddie’s a man and a man doesn’t date a woman he’s not attracted to only because he doesn’t want to be lonely or because he likes the idea of having a girlfriend”
“I’m not saying it’s just for that. Maybe he likes me, he’s happy and comfortable with me for a series of reasons that are still partially obscure to me. And maybe in his mind he goes like Ok, physically she’s not my ideal type but she’s a really great girl and I feel good when I’m with her, so why not give it a try? That is similar to what I thought about Martin. And I thought about how often you like someone so much that, although they’re not exactly good looking or anyway not your type at all, you end up seeing them beautiful because what’s inside is also showing outside. And I believed that’s what would have happened to me with Martin eventually. But I was never attracted to him. And I remember the bad feeling whenever we kissed or did something more… I couldn’t be intimate with him at first, I felt bad and dirty. I felt it was like selling myself for attention. And I did eventually because I could not… avoid it. And I felt like shit” Angie’s talked non stop and it looks like she’s out of breath now.
“Are you done with presenting your theory?”
“Well, yeah”
“Can I present mine now?”
“Sure, go on”
“Thank you. So, Meg’s theory: Eddie’s crushing on you so hard, he adores you”
“Haha a totally not extreme theory”
“Well, he’s simply crazy about you, so…”
“Don’t you think you’re exaggerating a little?”
“Angie, trust me, I’m not. Eddie basically thinks you two have been married for at least three months”
“Umph, ok, go on, I wanna see where this is going”
“This just in general. If we focus on looks only, he’s got it so bad and he’s so attracted to you that he’s probably aroused by the mere thought of seeing you”
“Yeeeeeeah sure!”
“Maybe he gets hard just by talking to you on the phone. And that would explain why he calls you up to three times a day just to hear you read the phone book or shit like that”
“Hahahahahaha”
“Anyway, my theory says that he surely can’t wait to crown your love dream with a nice fuck. But one thing stops him. Actually a bunch of things”
“And what is it?”
“Well, first of all, maybe the fact he’s not an animal? Not even Jerry fucked you after two weeks. And Jerry is a pig. Eddie is a sensitive guy, he’s waiting for you to be ready”
“But I am ready”
“I don’t think so. And that leads us to the second reason”
“That is?”
“YOUR FUCKING ISSUES, ANGIE!”
“He doesn’t know about my issues, I won’t discuss them with him”
“Angie, trust me, you don’t need to. One can see from miles that you’re insecure. And like this is not enough, you keep pestering him with this top secrecy bullshit. What will he think? What would you think if you were him?”
“That I’m ashamed and don’t trust him?” she ponders for a while before answering.
“Oh! See? If you think about it, you get it! And would you fuck someone who doesn’t trust you?”
“Well… no… I think”
“No, you wouldn’t. So show him you trust him and nature will take its course. Despite the third reason”
“And what’s reason number three?”
“Eddie’s slow. Like very slow. He’s slow like molasses. In January. It took him forever only to kiss you, how do you expect him to fuck you in two weeks? You must give him a little help”
“Me? What do you mean?”
“You gotta tell him”
“Tell him what?”
“Angie, are you stupid or you act like one? Tell him you wanna make love to him!”
“ARE YOU INSANE?”
“No, you’re not sane Angie. You claim you’re ready to have sex with him but you can’t talk to him about it?”
“I’m not good at talking about those things…”
“Facts more than words, huh?” I push her jokingly but she doesn’t look amused.
“I don’t have neither, Meg”
“Come on, Angie, seriously. You’re mature people, mature people dating, you talk about everything, you can talk about that too. And then, I repeat, Eddie is a sensitive guy, he will make things comfortable for you and understand you”
“Yeah but… what the hell do I tell him?”
“Ok, listen, it’s easy. You tell him to come over, I don’t know, tomorrow night. I might conveniently disappear and crash at Grace’s or Mel’s place”
“That doesn’t work, this week we had a place to ourselves for three nights in a row and nothing happened”
“Will you let me speak? So, you will invite him here for a chill night together. Then you’ll throw yourself in the shower and use that coconut scrub lotion I gave you at Christmas. Then you’ll dress up, I mean wear something nice and possibly very revealing. But not too much. We don’t wanna scare him. Of course I’ll take care of that”
“Lucky me!” she complains and I stand up from the chair, grab her from he arm and take her back into the living room.
“You’ll make a mix tape with music that’s suited to the circumstances, you’ll prepare candles, wine, some aphrodisiac appetizers” I add pointing at the stereo, the table and other different points in the room.
“Is this the plot of a porn movie?”
“When he shows up, you’ll welcome him with a glass of wine, you’ll kiss him, you’ll tell him you couldn’t wait for him to arrive because you have something extremely important to tell him.” I squeeze Angie in a bear hug and then push her until she gets to the armrest of the couch, where she falls backwards with her legs up in the air “You’ll have him sit down, you’ll put the wine on the table, you’ll take his hands and look into his eyes and you’ll tell him…” I reach for her when she’s sitting in a better position, I take a seat beside her, squeeze her hands and stare at her intently.
“And I’ll tell him…?”
“And you’ll tell him… Let’s talk about sex baby, let’s talk about you and me!” I start singing and Angie pushes my hands away.
“FUCK YOU, MEG”
“Let’s talk about all the good things and the bad things that may be” I go on as I clap to the rhythm and I tag along as she runs into her room.
“And I’m even listening to you!” she exclaims as she slams the door in my face.
“Come on, Angie, you just tell him!”
“I can’t!”
“Or you just let him know without saying it, drop hints”
“I’m even worse at that!”
“Listen, unless he’s dumb, he’ll get it with the wine and the music already” a long moment of silence follows, until Angie slightly opens the door.
“White or red?”
“Red, of course!”
****************************************************************************************************************************
“So? Overall rating of the date?” Grace asks all proud as soon as I park outside her condo.
The game started after our second date, when she took me to a cooking class, and at the end I gave her a C+ for the peculiar choice. Since then, she took it as a personal challenge.
“B but only because it didn’t rain. If it did, that’d have been an A for sure”
“Hahaha I can imagine! And of course this was like the only night of the year it didn’t rain in Seattle… How lucky. Did you have fun then?”
“I did! And I’m happy I contributed to someone’s copulation.” when she told me she wanted to take me for a ride up north on Lake Washington and to wear comfortable clothes, I figured it’d be some night trekking and make out session with a nice view on the lake. Instead I found myself in the middle of a group of crazy people who gave me a bucket and a yellow reflective vest so I could patrol the road waiting for frogs, toads and lizards in heat “Those poor little creatures wake up from hibernation and have only one thing in their mind”
“Nature says thank you”
“And I thank you. It’s actually impossible for me to get bored when I’m with you, you know?”
“Hehehe I’m taking it very seriously”
“I noticed that.” playing chess with strangers at Westlake Park, taking a boat ride along the Puget Sound, the evening at the arcade, the matinée play of Rent at the theater on 5th Avenue… no, I’ve never had this kind of dates “But you don’t need to. I mean, you don’t have to pick up weird stuff for our dates. I wouldn’t get bored with you even if we spent the whole time driving in a car with no destination in particular”
“Owww, so romantic… You’re only saying this because you’re afraid of what I can come up with next, right?” she bats her eyelashes dreamily, then gives me a side look.
“I’m scared, yeah”
“Hahaha you suck, Stone!” she chuckles as she opens the car door and I get out of my car too.
“I’ll walk you”
“So careful too”
“Well I spent the evening helping toads cross the road, I can as well help you” I take her hand and I’m about to go for the crosswalk but she doesn’t move, she just stands there pouting. And I laugh my ass off.
“Ha ha. What if it’s me helping you?” she squeezes my hand and trots in front of me pulling me along up to the traffic lights.
“Don’t count on that!” I stay calm and don’t react but as soon as the green lights come out I start running and drag her with me.
“Stone? Stone! Stop, you’ll make me fall!”
“Hehe what’s wrong? Are your heels too high?” I joke as I point at her black rubber flat boots. Nice boots though.
“There are holes in the street… and I hate running. And actually I’m tired as fuck” and I could appreciate them more when I saw her at dinner without her coat. They looked good with her over the knee socks and knit dress.
“Yeah yeah, they’re just excuses. No point trying, I won’t carry you in the palm of my hand like with frogs, come on, just walk” I push her playfully as she walks up the stairs.
“Also because there’s no way in hell you could do it” she retorts as she opens the door and tries to shut it at my face.
“Are you sure?” I remark as I push from the outside.
“Haha I’m literally keeping the door closed with two fingers, Stone” she chuckles from the other side.
“Ok, I’m no muscleman and you’re not a sprinter. No Olympic games for us next year”
“Well, we could start training for the ones in 1996, what do you think? We can get ahead” I stop pushing and she lets me enter the lobby, taking me back by the hand.
“You’re a genius”
“Stone?”
“Mm?”
“We got to our floor”
“Uh. Ok.”
The doors close while I keep Grace pinned against the elevator’s mirror with a kiss. She presses the button and the doors open again.
“Stone?” I clasp her hands, lock my fingers with hers and pull them up against the mirror, holding them up on both sides of our heads.
The elevator shuts down again. And starts moving. We manage to get a composure before it stops at the last floor, called by a couple of girls. I take Grace by her arm and get out, rushing towards the hallway.
“Stone, were are you going?” she asks puzzled.
“Ok, the coast is clear.” as soon as I can hear the elevator going down again, I turn around and lead Grace towards the stairs. And we walk down to the correct floor “What? Don’t look at me that way, couldn’t make you uncomfortable in front of your neighbours”
“Making me uncomfortable?”
“Umph don’t be so nit-picky!”
“Here we are” she smiles at her bag, since she’s stuck her head inside it, looking for her keys.
“Here we are” I shift from one foot to the other waiting for the major moment.
“And here are the keys!” she puts them in the lock and turns to speak to me “So… good night”
“It’s a little early for good night, it’s not even eleven yet”
“I’m exhausted, Stone” this is the basic excuse, the recurring excuse after each date.
“Well, you got a couch, right? We can flop down on it and just relax. And we can make tea, since it’s already springtime for frogs, but it’s still kind of cold actually”
“I don’t know, Stone. I’m not even feeling that good honestly, I think I had too many jalapeños at Laredo’s. I feel… full” on the basic excuse, she now implants the variable one. She tries to make it more convincing by holding one hand on her belly.
“And what’s better than some hot tea to adjust your stomach?”
“I also think I must have pulled a muscle or something as I bent down to catch a salamander. Or maybe I’ve caught a chill…” she tries to stretch shifting her hand towards her back.
“You’re lucky, my hands are magical. I can give you a massage” I reply moving my fingers in front of her face.
“Hehe alright” she opens the door to her apartment and gestures for me to get in.
REALLY? I can’t believe it, I wasn’t expecting this!
“How does it feel?” I’m sitting behind her on the couch and massaging the lower part of her back.
“Mmm!” sounds satisfied.
“Better?”
“Yeah, much better. I just don’t know if I’ll ever be able to leave this couch”
“Don't” I shrug and keep up with my massage.
“I’m too full to function” she yawns and I think that, at worst, if she fell asleep in the next ten minutes, at least I’d have an excuse to stay and sleep here. And waking up we could maybe do something. I’m not in a hurry, I don’t wanna push. When it happens, it just happens. But if it happens now, all the better. We’re young, we’re cute and the season of love has started, even for toads.
“You’re lucky you have me” I kiss her neck right when the kettle starts whistling.
I go and make tea, then get back on the couch with the two cups. I’ve already drunk it all when Grace is still blowing on it.
“Is your tongue fire proof?” she asks and cocks her eyebrow.
“You should know this better than anyone else” I wink at her and she shakes her head.
“Subtle, Stone, very subtle” and she takes maybe the first sip.
“Some like it hot”
“Haha even subtler”
“Do you want me to massage your feet?” I try to pull one of her legs up on my lap but she almost chokes on her tea.
“NO!” she yells and stomps her foot down.
“Oh ok, sorry”
“No it’s just… well, I’m ticklish”
“I can be very delicate, you know?”
“But I’m extremely sensitive. And then I start kicking like a donkey, I’d rather not. I don’t wanna run the risk to slash your cute face with a roundhouse kick” she gently strokes my cheek and I reach for her hand and keep it there to enjoy it as long as possible.
“But the eventual spinning kick wouldn’t hit so hard without these sexy boots of yours”
“Hahaha ok, I said you can make fun of me, but do you have to take everything literally?”
“Strangely enough, I wasn’t making fun of you, for once! I really like them”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Actually women boots are a kind of fixation for me”
“Fixation?” she squints at me from behind her tea cup.
“I find them extremely erotic”
“Ok but these are fucking rubber rain boots, Stone. They’re not some Catwoman leather high heeled boots”
“I don’t care about models, I’m not your friend who works at the shoe shop” my remark doesn’t change her perplexed face.
“You don’t have a fetish, do you?” she questions before taking another long gulp of a most likely cold tea.
“Hahaha what? No! Am I a perv only because I’m attracted to beautiful girls wearing skirts and boots?” I get closer to her and playfully stick my fingers under the elastic band of her dark red socks.
“How many beautiful girls are you attracted to exactly?” she asks after she puts her empty cup down on the table in front of us.
“I see you’re not ticklish here”
“No. Not there” I kiss her and feel Grace slightly backing up before letting herself go and enjoy my touch, which moves up along her thigh.
Then she suddenly slips away and I found her standing in front of me beside the couch. I mentally prepare a bunch of convincing excuses to apologize for groping her. But before I can start rattling them off, Grace grabs the edges of the hem of her dress and pulls it up and over her head in three seconds straight, throwing it to some place in the room that I don’t care to detect. I just sit there looking at her in a dazed state for a while before opening my mouth.
“Of course you caught that chill, you’ve got nothing underneath”
Grace straddles me and puts her arms around my neck.
“Ok, I’ll make sure I put a camisole on once we’re done”
“Done with what?” I ask ecstatic.
“Try and guess”
**
“Big toes” I whisper while I’m lying on the carpet in the living room, staring at the lamp on the ceiling.
“What? What’s wrong with your toes?” Grace asks, as she’s lying beside me and throws her arm around my waist.
“They are the only body parts I can still move right now”
“Hahaha shut up”
“I’m afraid I have to ask you to host me for the night”
“Ok, you can stay” she stretches out and stands up from the floor.
“Thanks”
“But you’ll have to be able to move your arms at least, so you can drag yourself to the couch” she goes on as she leaves to go to the bathroom.
“I’ll try… wait… the couch??” I get up as fast as I can and look around searching for my briefs.
“Why? Do you prefer sleeping on the floor?” I hear her asking in the distance.
I finally find my underwear, I put them on and cautiously walk up to the bathroom door.
“No, I was considering a different solution, a more comfortable one. Like your bed”
“Forget it” she opens the door and comes out in her pyjamas, fluffy slippers and with her hair put up  with a pin.
“What’s happening? I can’t understand, do you want me to leave?” I’m actually surprised and I’m trying to understand if I did some shit without noticing.
“No! Sure you can stay, Stone” she wraps her arms around my neck and gives me a kiss that would make a toad squashed by a truck easily come back to life.
“Uh ok! I got worried for a second” you like to pull pranks, huh? I was almost buying it, that you wanted me to sleep on…
“Just not in my room” she gives me a tired smile and shuffles to her room.
What the fuck?
“And… and why?”
“You can’t sleep with me, Stone” she turns around and explains, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
“I still don’t understand” I go stand in the way between her and her bedroom’s door.
“I have to get up early tomorrow and… I couldn’t sleep with you by my side”
“Grace, darling, I swear I’ll behave! I wouldn’t be able to do much even if I wanted to. Helping nature wore me down too, you know?” I flail my arms and try to explain that I’d be totally inoffensive and she laughs at me.
“It’s not for that. It’s just… oh shit, it’s kind of embarrassing”
“Look, I don’t give a fuck about your stuffed animals”
“Huh?”
“Don’t be ashamed, it’s not a problem for me. Ok, maybe I’ll be creeped out at the beginning… but I’ll get used to them!”
“Hahaha it’s not about the stuffed animals, trust me”
“What is it all about then?”
“I just can’t sleep… with other people… in my bed”
“Uh”
“I’m not… comfortable”
“Oh but I’m not the snuggle-up type, I’m the total opposite really. Kiss you good night and then turn away on my side” I’ve got nothing against cuddling up in bed actually but given the situation, I’ll better look for a middle-ground settlement.
“Sleeping in each other’s arms is not the problem, it’s just the presence of another person. I know it sounds horrible but, you know… I haven’t been in a long relationship for a while. And I got used to sleeping alone. And now, if someone’s there with me, I just can't” she suddenly finds her own fingertips and fingernail very interesting and doesn’t look at me as she speaks. And she looks so different from the vamp in panties and boots who turned me inside-out until a few minutes ago. And maybe that’s just why I adore her.
“Gracie, don’t worry.” I take her hands and lock them again behind my neck “No problem, baby. The couch will be perfect”
“Now you see what it means to date someone who’s not mentally stable” she yawns.
“For so little? No big deal” I shrug and kiss the tip of her nose.
“I wish it was just that…”
“Well, we’ve got time to take out the rest too, we don’t have to do it all now, do we?”
“Hehe, no, we don’t. Let’s sleep now”
“Alright. Good night, Gracie”
“Good night Stone” she takes my face into her hands and gives me one more kiss before disappearing into her room.
I walk back to the couch, resigned, and I’ve already spotted my shirt, when I hear her bedroom’s door open again.
“You changed yo-” I can’t finish the sentence and a pillow and a blanket fly directly on my face.
**
“Stone? Come on, wake up, it’s late” a sweet and warm voice wakes me up instead of my usual clock radio. I’m awake but I can’t open my eyes yet.
“Mmm” I grunt against the backrest of the couch.
“Stone, get up, I gotta go to work”
“Since when are you working on Saturday morning” I mumble as I turn around on my back.
I open my eyes and the first thing I see is again the ceiling lamp. The second one, when I look down towards my feet, is so scary that I fall off the couch.
“AAAAAAAH! WHAT THE… WHAT THE FUCK…!”
“Good morning to you too Stoney” Grace, dressed as a clown and wearing clown make up, greets me with a huge grin painted in red.
“You scared me to death!” I keep one hand on my heart as she laughs her ass off and ties the laces of her clown boots.
“I tried to call you before getting dressed but there was no way I could wake you up and get you off that couch. Now I know how to do it”
“A drastic technique” I pull myself up and sit back on the couch.
“But effective”
“Where the hell are you going dressed like that?” I refasten my loosened ponytail.
“I have a birthday party in…” she checks the clock on the wall “a little more than half an hour”
“Is it a costume party? What’s my costume?”
“Haha you’re so funny. It’s a children’s party, I go there to work”
“And do they pay you well?”
“They pay me enough. And surely it’s funnier than standing behind the counter of a mini market. Why? Are you interested in a career too?”
“No, thanks, I’d rather keep dealing with musicians. Or toads, at worst” I joke and she kisses me. Well, actually she tries to kiss me unsuccessfully at first, she manages to do it once she temporarily removes her big red clown nose that was in the way.
“Hehe I gotta go now but you just take you time. Just remember to put them in my mail box once you leave” Grace rattles her keys in front of my nose before standing up.
“Are you leaving already? But wait, where’s this party?”
“Oh a few blocks from here, like a twenty-minute walk. I’ll just take a stroll” she innocently answers and I’m almost rolling off the couch again.
“WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU’RE WALKING? DO YOU MEAN YOU’RE GOING OUT DRESSED LIKE THIS?”
“Well, yeah, why?”
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
“Not everybody is a wimp like you, Stoney”
“It’s not just that, it’s… no, you don’t have the nerve to go out like that, I don’t believe you”
“No?”
“I won’t believe it until I see it”
“Wanna bet?” she asks wiggling her painted eyebrows as she opens her apartment’s door.
“If you walk down the street dressed like that, you can choose the destination of all our future dates, forever”
“Have a nice day, Stone” she throws her keys at me and leaves, closing the door behind her back.
“NO WAY, YOU CAN'T” I dress up quickly and dash outside her apartment. Then I remember, I stop halfway through the corridor, go back, lock the door, and then run again to catch up with her. I rush down the stairs since she took the elevator first, and as I get to the lobby I see her going out nonchalantly with a smile on her face.
And I realize I love her. I love the fact she can be the toad saviour one minute, a femme fatale a few moments later, a shy insecure girl before going to bed and a clown the next morning, and still being herself, always. Because she is all those things, and much more.
“WAIT! I’LL GIVE YOU A RIDE”
“So? Did I win?” she turns around folding her arms and looking at me triumphantly.
“You won but stop!” I catch up with her finally and lead her to my car “Let me ask you: why have you put your make up and costume on already? You could have gone to the child’s house and do it there”
“I coudn’t, what if the kids saw me?”
“What do you mean?”
“If they saw me first without the costume and then with the costume, they’d understand I’m not a real clown” yeah, right, I should have thought about it.
“Anyway, I find them sexy too, just so you know” I add once we’re in my car, pointing at her clown boots.
“I’ll keep that in mind for the next occasion. Or for when I’ll need material to blackmail you” she replies and, before I could retort, she produces a clown trumpet out of nowhere and loudly blows it in my face.
I’m gonna marry this woman.
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sunniebelle · 5 years
Text
Irresistible
Tentoo x Rose for @skyler10fic and anon 
When the Doctor and Rose’s TARDIS is finished growing, they find a wonderful way to celebrate.
A03, TSP
Rose could barely contain her excitement as she wandered through the corridors of her and the Doctor’s new TARDIS. The walls were a beautiful golden-tan coral and she couldn’t help but run her fingers along the wall, loving the coarse feel beneath her fingertips. In response there was a familiar gentle hum in her mind as the TARDIS reciprocated the loving gesture.
It had taken the Doctor a good three years to grow their TARDIS from the coral cutting the Time Lord Doctor had given them before leaving them in this alternate universe, in Pete’s World; though it had only taken him a couple of hours to do the calculations for the process Donna had suggested and a few weeks to gather the necessary supplies. Yet, after much time, patience, worry and a lot of love and doting by both the Doctor and herself, their TARDIS was complete.
Rose wandered the halls for more than an hour and looked forward to exploring the new rooms that had cropped up over the past few days. It seemed that the accelerated growth process had also allowed her the ability to almost completely recreate the interior that had been in her previous self, meaning the TARDIS' interior size and number of rooms grew by leaps and bounds almost hourly. Rose suspected she would have just as much enjoyment exploring the rooms in this TARDIS as she had when she was nineteen.
Finally she made her way back to the console room and marveled again at the sight of the coral support struts strategically placed around the room, and the occasionally flashing “Round Things,” as her Doctor liked to call them. Her gaze landed on the round console in the middle of the room. All the same knobs, levers, buttons, and mismatched odds and ends that had made up the previous TARDIS console, once again graced this panel. Rose's eyes traveled upwards to the green-lit time rotor that stretched to the domed ceiling high above. The Old Girl—hmm, Young Girl?... have to think on that one—had outdone herself in replicating the console room Rose and the Doctor had been so fond of.  
Her gaze fell on the spiky head of hair that was barely visible beneath the metal grating. She smiled when she heard the buzzing sound of the sonic screwdriver as the Doctor made adjustments to something beneath the console that likely didn’t need adjustments at all.
The Doctor finished what he was doing and clambered out from beneath the grating to see his beautiful fiancé lounging on the pilot’s chair taking in the view of him. Knowing that he was going to get dirty and greasy while working on the TARDIS, he had temporarily traded in his blue suit for a pair of black denim jeans and a dark green Henley. The look on Rose’s face told him that she was thoroughly enjoying the new look and he determined to make this his TARDIS repair outfit from now on (even knowing that the TARDIS didn’t really need maintenance now, not like she used to, he would find something to do... especially if he got that kind of reaction from his Rose!).
He sauntered over to her and took a seat next to her on the jumpseat, closer than was really necessary, then pulled her to him for a gentle, lingering kiss. One hand was soon tangled in her hair, gently holding her to him, while the other trailed down her left arm, and when he reached her hand it felt completely natural to link their fingers together.
From where their fingers connected he could feel the cool, smooth surface of the gold ring on her finger and the slight roughness of the adorning jewels that sat atop it. He still remembered Rose's surprised delight a couple of months ago, when he had performed the old Earth custom of bending a knee and presenting his beloved with a ring and speaking carefully chosen words of love, a promise of commitment, one he fully intended to honor and keep for the rest of his life. He remembered the look of amazed awe her face held when she saw the beauty of the white point star diamond—an item he had long ago stashed in his blue suit in the main universe, in case he ever got the nerve and courage to make Rose his own—surrounded by a cluster of sapphires, carefully cut and arranged in a pattern to resemble that of a blooming rose. He would never forget the look of wonder on her face when he slid the ring on her finger or the adoration and love when their eyes finally met.  
He was brought out of his memories by the feeling of Rose running a hand down his chest followed by a gentle tug of his shirt. “I like your new wardrobe choice, Doctor. That’s a good look for you,” she said, drawing a pleasant shiver from him as her free hand played with the tiny hairs at the back of his neck.
“Is it?” he asked, looking down at himself as though he just noticed what he was wearing. “I didn’t want to get my blue suit dirty.”
“In other words,” she murmured, a seductive lilt to her words, making his breath catch briefly, “you didn’t want to miss any opportunity to be ogled by your fiancé.”
“Wellll,” he drawled, trying for nonchalance, shrugging off the comment, “that wasn’t what I had in mind at the time.” He suddenly turned his head and pinned her to the seat with the suggestive heat evident in his deep brown eyes. “But it certainly is a perk,” he said with a waggle of his eyebrows.
He smirked satisfactorily when she swallowed hard before leaning forward to kiss him again, quite passionately this time. He loved the results of turning the tables on her when she purposefully attempts to wind him up.
After several minutes of pleasant and thorough snogging, Rose remembered that she is needed at Torchwood for a meeting. She reluctantly pulled out of the Doctor’s embrace, but almost reconsidered when she saw his glistening, kiss swollen lips.
She groaned as she stood up and took a few steps away before she can resume the tempting activities of a moment before. “I’ve got a meeting with Pete and a whole lot of paperwork to complete. I really need to go,” she explained upon seeing his confused look.
“Hmmm, well, that’s really too bad. ’Cause I need to get cleaned up and I’d love for you to join me,” he said in a low throaty voice and a you-know-you-can’t-resist-me grin.
She groaned again, turning away saying, “I can’t, Doctor. This meeting’s important. I gotta go.”
Faster than she knows is possible for her half-human Doctor, he is suddenly in front of her and holding her hand in both of his. She makes the mistake of looking at his face and knows any protest is futile when she sees his large, brown, puppy dog eyes pleading with her and the plump lower lip she loves jutting out slightly in a pout.
“Please, love, stay?” he asks softly, raising her hand to his lips and kissing her knuckles.
Oh, to hell with it, she thinks as her arguments fall to pieces due to the sensual feel of his lips on the tender flesh of the back of her hand. She doesn’t give him a verbal answer, simply grips his hand in hers and practically drags him down the corridor to their new room.
She knows she might be late to her meeting—or she might not reach it at all, it’s still too early to tell—and likely wouldn't get to her paperwork, but she also knows that she will not be reprimanded. A pleasant perk of being the daughter of Peter Alan Tyler, the head of Torchwood.
Her smile is lascivious as she shoves her Doctor through the door of their room, enjoying the squeak of surprise from him. She knows full well her afternoon will be busy, but certainly not with anything as boring and mundane as paperwork and meetings. She can hardly wait to get started!
 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  Notes: Used Tumblr prompt “That’s a good look for you.” from @skyler10fic and an anonymous Tumblr prompt “happy/ lighthearted- ‘Please stay.’” Thanks so much for the prompts @skyler10fic and anon! It was so much fun to write using them together and I hope you enjoy! 
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suburban-satan · 5 years
Text
shit my friends say
So I made a list of all the wild shit my friends say, started in January 2018 and still going. It's one year old I guess? Well, enjoy what I have so far!
2018 -d a d d y w i s e -well there’s chains on the ground so that must mean this was a kinky sex dungeon -GORSH MICKEY NOT MY G SPOT -I can wait until I turn 40 so I can troll Japanese Girls on roblox -what if we all looked like mike wizowski but our heads were the same size as they are now -I wanna give pot to a bird -I take pills without water -daddies cummie wummies are the best cummie wummies -enjoy your nonexistent stomach acid -cum glaze -I hope you choke on MY meat -who hasn’t been on pornhub -(wipes tears away and starts belting despacito) -MY GAY IS BEING TRIGGERED -that omelet looks delouse -is semen a liquid or solid -iTs nOt aQuaNauTs yOu uNculTurEd fOoK -vaginas are scary -what is menstruation -you should change your name to pussy something -my gay has been activated -“have you ever owned a vibrator?” “No” “would you like to rent one” -“do you like glazed or cream filled” -wHaT dOeS cUm sOuNd LiKe -he is on too much fertilizer -sometimes cum is hot I know from experience -if you jerked off at the speed of sound would your dick be on fire -I don’t have a sonic fetish -can your dick ignite because of the heat of your cock -aren’t dicks like cannons -who the fuck draws a glowing peepee on a skeleton -honey Freddy freaker is dancing in the living room -does penis smell like garlic -she don’t swallow in this household -*downloading garrison nudes* -don’t you realize that tentacle porn is just using octopus arms as a dildo -frickle my nipples -Minecraft porn consists of the male genitalia replaced with a stick -OOPSIE WOOPSIE!! Uwu We make a fucky wucky!! A wittle fucko boingo! The code monkeys at our headquarters are working VEWY HAWD to fix this! -“I’m big for an asian” -cockilicous -“His anal glands need milking” -fready flipper -FREADY FAPPER -daddy better make me choke -does Freddy freaker have a mutated alien dick -sonic breaks the sound barrier by beating his meat -the sun looks like it’s gon vore you -bootyhole exploration -is megalovania sex music -i like to drink cock -cum is just genital snot -penis musk -Shid piz and farbt -Bull + shit = sis it don’t add up -Hey don’t tell me at least once in your life you haven’t thought about being gently caressed across the genitalia by the kraken -I swallow boba like i swallow cum -I wuv fungus kun, the way he waps a awond my tosie wosies so tight! He’s gibing me a huggie!!!! Fungus kun gibes my tosies a new color too!!!! Wat a good fungus kun make my doki doki go “ UAU” heeheehee -eating banana with the banana peel -orang juce -father I want cheddar -don’t you just look at someone and think about how long their neck is -breathing is just boneless vaping -get outta here juuling criminal -yall ever succ a dick for juul pods -unironically drawing miss piggy -“Jack don’t let go 😱🤭🤭, jack sweetie 😐👀 if you let go 🙊🙈 you’re weave 🙀🙀 gone 😇😘💅” -I've been watching spooky movies for 5 hour -omg it’s daddy sans undertaker!!! -bröther -I ate my sister -are you'd's't've kidding me? -oh youtube please don't show me the shrek movies rn -My brother is calling me out on the family group chat for eating a bowl of peanut butter -Hamilton is best girl -get outta here you fuckin loyalist -what doesn’t cum have -drink flex seal and you won’t have to worry about a marriage -I feel water. -“Superfood or supergross? Is Sperm good?” -coochie hands gucci bands -just imagine trying to cast a spell and then you get disturbed by a banjo -toto africa is sex music now and everytime they say rain it’s just cum -y'all ever burp in your mouth and exhale it through your nose like a vaper -how dare them make my green senpai an honorable member of society -If you didn’t search big boobs video on google at least once are you really a Gen Z kid????? -laugh pussies -i’m watching the history of japan on pornhub -we have the same name because we are secretly the same person -what if you eat your phone and it’s all in your tummy -why would you ever think i’m not serious all the time you silly dragon but we’re both (my name) so we can be the silly dragon together -why would you wash your face before you go to bed when your tears wash it off for you *wooshing noises* -I want to drive a bus because I like busses -my shoe broke -why does everyone talk about the drugs i’m eating -i’m going to break her because she’s talking about smoking cocaine and I don’t like drugs -(stage whisper) metal heads live among us but we don’t know because they look like normal people -oh bye mr music teacher -the pussy? designer. cucci, if you will. -DID I HEAR S A N S P O R N -"i'm about to nay nay on your dead fucking corpse" -alert alert the toes are coming -you got a fucking problem with my 𝐩𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐝𝐢𝐛𝐬? -imagine using an oven for something designed for a microwave this post was made by the doesnt have much motivation gang -Please take my Minnesotan snow Wait that sounds like Minnesotan cocaine -when you funny scream -"dating the Bill of Rights for fun" is now exactly how I'm going to describe my hyperfixations -the penguin  from fruit loops is a twink (bitch its a toucan) -if white cheese exists is there black cheese -What’s rosum opossum -whale cum -dicko mode -(GETTIN SOME CHRISTMAS SPIRIT UP IN THAT PUSS) -pennies more like penis amirite -It’s Sunday don’t forget to squeeze cheese on the cat -the grinch is dr seuss’s fursona -everyone is gangster until the trees start speaking vietnamese -big chungus is my dad -“if the apocalypse happened what would you do” “eat bees” -I'm tired as fuck but I gotta wait until it's 4:20 to go to bed -mom: you need to be reasonable and wait two hours before having another brownie me, stuffing my mouth full of brownie: br o w n y s -This honey in whole foods is in fucking comic sans -it's more likely that I'll guess someone is gay before I remember the existence of women -im gonna say it again for the people in the back:
i eat bees -Thanos penis, it's actually called a thenis -yort -uwu its the mowst thorstiewst time of the yeaw uwu -It is I Teh gromc -The gronk is here to say eat all the dish soap in the house -the grinch but he's wearing crocs the entire time -answer my question or else i will establish sans porn -You make him doki doki uwaaaaa!!!! -birdbox but all the bird sounds are replaced by cardi b noises -THE GROMPK IS TOO POWERFUL -consume ocean sauce -square up in judge judys court -half consumes ocean sauce -ice juce -frick stick -you guys wanna read undertale fanfiction     -2019- -it might be 2019 but thats not gonna stop me from terrorizing my family's groupchat -(pineapple voice) first date idea: digest eachother -Wait dennys will arrest you for doing illegal things?? -pls purify me -my toes are very succulent today -two succs having flex two succs having sex my muscles my muscles involuntarily checks -f u r r y , N a s h . -Perfect for all occasions! Spill something on your nice shirt, give a messy blowjob, and sphagetti!!! -Do you want cum on your nice shirt??? -it would be nice if i had cum on my shirt -cocc succ machine -I KNOW TONGUE JUTSU -I feel like i’m in a meat prison -hi you obese elephant -plant porn is just flowey porn -We all love the out of the box 4am messages we get -YOU LIKE SNAS PEEPEE
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