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anika-ann · 3 years

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Attached: Word Is that We Might Work It Out

Type: Modern-college-professor AU - part of Attached series

Pairing: professor!Steve Rogers x reader Word count: 6850🙈

Summary: You said yes to Professor Rogers – Steve – taking you out for ‘coffee’. Ball’s in your court – and you decide to make your move.

A date, maybe first of many, maybe not. A date with the gorgeous professor who happened to read your erotica about him. What could possibly go wrong?

Warnings: alcohol consumption, professor-student relationship and unspecified age gap, language, lots of fluff

A/N: Timeline-wise, this one-shot fits in after chapter four of Attached!!! At the end, you can find the reason behind me writing this. You can consider it one big flashback, if you will 😅 Gif by capchrisevaans.

Series masterlist | previous in timeline

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You lasted one day. One full day since the encounter in the office, since Professor Rogers admitted he would like to take you out for coffee or something similar. Since you two exchanged numbers.

It took you twenty-four hours – maybe less – to decide that so what if that might be a bad idea. It was not against the university rules and Professor Steve Rogers was a fucking specimen who also seemed to be a genuinely nice human being and if you allowed yourself to play chicken just because something only might go wrong in the future, you’d be an idiot.

Penny, your roomie, wholeheartedly agreed. She actually punched the air in victory as you were nursing a greasy lunch due to the wild-ish celebration of the end of the semester together the night prior and you just said to the void: “You know what, screw it. I’m gonna go for it.”

You didn’t even have to say what you were talking about – Professor Rogers had been the topic ever since the faithful Monday.

So you texted him that if the offer still stood, you’d like to meet up on Friday evening. Was he free?

Hey, Y/N :) Thank you for reaching out. Friday sounds great. Do you have anything specific in mind?

“Dude. He’s such a cutie. Who even texts like that?” Penny chuckled, a wide grin on her face as you couldn’t but read the text out loud.

“I texted him like that.”

“Touché. Because you want to impress mister ‘hot as fuck intellectual’ there.”

You just rolled your eyes, neither confirming nor denying. Mostly because Penny was right. But he was the first to use an emoji and… yeah, cutie indeed.

Well, I never say no to dinner and I’m down for almost anything-

“I bet you are,” Penny hummed to your ear and you swung after her blindly and thought of a better phrasing.

Well, I never say no to a dinner and I’m not picky. You choose. Seven-ish sounds good?

“Spoilsport.”

“Stop reading over my shoulder!” you chuckled and bit your lip as the answer came almost immediately.

Seven is alright. I’ll think of something to treat a girl right ;)

Your stomach made a small somersault, your face instantly radiating heat at the possible innuendo. The phone vibrated again before you could fully process the image your mind painted of him actually saying it in his gentle timbre.

Just so we’re clear, what is the nature of the dinner? It can be whatever you feel comfortable with.

Your heart leaped into your throat, hammering wildly.

That was the question, wasn’t it? Since you texted him, you made one thing clear with yourself. If you were doing this, it was going to be a date. You wouldn’t be doing things by halves.

Penny next to you made a noise that sounded as something between an aww and her gagging on nothing. “He’s disgustingly considerate for a man his age planning on going out with a girl your age.”

“He’s not that much older,” you protested instantly, frowning. He wasn’t. She knew that; you had both done your research. “And I think it’s amazing.”

You caught Penny’s smile from the corner of your eye as you typed.

“Well, it is kinda sweet. And I know he’s not, I’m messing with you. It’s just-- DON’T SEND HIM THAT!”

“Why?” you questioned, looking at her quizzically and totally clicking on send on purpose at the same time.

I’d be comfortable with a date if you are.

“It’s so lame. Of course he’s comfortable with a date, he suggested it. Duh.”

The reply came way too fast and Penny chuckled behind you as your jaw went slack.

“You know what? Don’t mind me. Good job. Keep it up,” Penny patted your shoulder as you stared at the screen where Professor Steven Grant Rogers just texted you a damn heart.

It’s a date <3

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It was a date indeed.

Steve texted you an address on Friday morning (along with an adorable good morning :) ), apologizing that he couldn’t pick you up, making sure you’d be alright getting there on your own. You found it absolutely sweet, considerate and smart. You suspected that his ‘inability’ to pick you up had something to do with the fact that you lived at the dorms and if he showed up there, it would be trending in the university chit-chat room within five minutes.

You spent a better part of the Friday afternoon researching the place and the weather forecast so you could dress accordingly and getting ready.

You were not ready for a date with Steve Rogers however; your nerves were a mess and nothing could ever prepare you for when he showed up perfectly on time in front of the restaurant---- wearing a suit no less.

How were you supposed to function when he was wearing such elegant clothing, a suit he filled up so fucking well?! And he looked just as breath-taking as always, stupidly perfect beard and slightly tousled hair you just wanted to run your fingers through and his smile was so gorgeous and--- Jesus Fucking Christ, the suit- how could you even put words together when looking at him-

“Wow, I feel so underdressed now.”

Clearly, you could speak just fine, only you lost your brain-to-mouth filter. Also, your mouth might have started watering and your heart was pounding like crazy. You would not survive tonight.

But, you also had a point. The restaurant was supposed to be a nice place, but relatively plain. And he showed up in amazingly fitting dress pants, white shirt, a tie and a suit jacket. So yes, you did feel underdressed.

“Oh no, no! You’re not,” he rushed to reassure you, eyeing your semi-leisure white dress with burgundy flowers with an attentive gaze that had you shifting your weight nervously. “I’m overdressed if anything. Sticking out like a sore thumb, I’m sorry.”

You could always just strip the suit jacket, was your first thought, but luckily for you, this time you managed to contain the words before they got out to the open.

“You’re fine,” you said instead, not knowing how else to react; needless to say you were grateful for the smile he gave you despite the double meaning.

Yes, he was fine indeed. Always. It was unfair, really.

“Thanks. You too. In fact, you look beautiful.”

Your heart stopped in your chest, your mind suddenly racing a mile per minute.

It was ridiculous. It was just a word. But for one, it was spoken so kindly and genuinely you couldn’t but think he meant it, for two, it was Professor Steve Rogers who told you that and--- beautiful.

You couldn’t remember a guy ever calling you beautiful.

Cute? Sure. Pretty? Maybe. Hot? Might have happened once or twice . But beautiful?

You might actually swoon.

And you were so lost in your head that you couldn’t but silently stare at the lethally handsome man in front of you and then it again registered in your brain that this was your fucking crush speaking to you and he was on a date with you and he had read your erotica, one that was about him no less-

Your face was set aflame in an instant and you… you couldn’t let out a word.

“It everything okay? Did I… did I say something wrong?” Steve asked hesitantly, a concerned wrinkle appearing between his brows and it reminded you of all the times you had seen him wearing such thoughtful expression in the two classes he taught instead of Professor Barnes and-

You were screwed.

Tonight was going to be a disaster.

“No, uhm, no, sorry--- maybe we should go inside or-“ you muttered, lightly gesturing towards the door and could you get any more awkward?

“Yeah, sure, sounds good.”

He let you walk in first like a real gentleman, the lightest skim of his fingers on your lower back, which caused your heartbeat to skyrocket; and only when the hostess seated you, you realized you never accepted his kind compliment.

It was too late for that now, you assumed, so you sipped at the still water which waited at each table, and repeated like a mantra to yourself that you needed to get your shit together otherwise you’d ruin your shot before the night even started.

But clearly, you succeeded at that already.

Whatever awkward aura you had around yourself, it seemed to extend now to him too – he shifted slightly in his seat (he had pulled out your chair for you before, because of course he had), his shoulders stiff. Despite that, he smiled at you over the menu.

“So… all exams worked out? Enjoying the freedom?” he asked casually.

“Oh, yes. Yeah.”

“Congratulations.”

“Thanks,” you uttered with a forced smile, your stomach twisted unpleasantly.

For some reason, you felt like you were having a lame attempt at small talk with a professor, which you were, but it wasn’t supposed to be like that.

Not tonight. Not on a date.

What were you even doing here? What were you playing at? Professor Steve Rogers was entirely out of your league, gorgeous, funny, kind and smart and here you were, barely making conversation.

It was pathetic really. It was embarrassing for both of you.

“You up to anything fun?” he queried, the question less enthusiastic than the one before. He was already growing tired of making your uncooperative brain work at least a bit, it was obvious.

Your gulped as the memory of last night popped in your head – staying in, quiet evening, in a mood for some dirty writing--- oh bless, another reminder of why this dinner was and should be really weird.

Steve read your smutty story. The one about him.

“Nothing special,” you squealed silently, earning a plain nod. “Eh, we went out with Penny, my roommate and best friend in one person. But mostly I just stayed in and--- caught up on sleeping.”

“I know what that’s like,” Steve hummed, clearly as grateful as you were when the waiter appeared by your table to take your orders.

Silence stretched as the man left, your hand beginning to fiddle with the neatly folded napkin on the table, lump growing in your throat due to your nerves.

“What about you? Anything… fun?” you asked reluctantly, noticing a brief smile passing Steve’s lips. Pretty, sinfully pretty lips. Perfect. Untouchable for mere mortals like you.

“Oh, not much. Few exam sittings, faculty meetings – we had one now, hence the suit-“

“You came here right from school?” you blurted out, startled – and clearly surprising him with your rudeness. “Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. Yes, I did. We have a meeting every last Friday of the month.”

“Oh my god, you must be so tired,” you sympathized with him quietly, the uneasy feeling in your stomach only growing. He came here straight from work and for this? “Why didn’t you say something? We could have postponed or something.”

Steve swiftly shook his head, his warm hand landing on yours, gently stopping your restless fingers. This time, it was butterflies in your stomach erupting with life, the sweet comforting gesture warming your heart. He wanted to be here. He came here for you. He was interested in you.

And the feeling was mutual. So why was it being so weird then?

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m glad you reached out. I’m glad that you said yes in the first place,” he admitted, features softening despite the tension in his shoulders never leaving. His brows furrowed as he slowly withdrew his hand – it must have been an automatic reaction then. “I’m not that tired and… and maybe I was little worried that if I asked for a different date, then…”

He trailed off and your lips parted in surprise, your heart swelling in your chest at what he was implying.

Did he think you’d back out? Did he think that all the potential obstacles intimidated you too much? That you’d think it wasn’t worth it? That it wouldn’t work out anyway?

Seeing as you were now, you couldn’t blame him. Despite him being the world’s most charming man, here you were, being… not at all yourself, stressing for no reason.

It seemed to you that had had chemistry, back there in his office. This date made sense. When you imagined how this could unfold, well, it went a bit differently too. There was considerably less embarrassment going around.

This was why you preferred writing to speaking. That’s why you liked daydreaming. Because reality was often less than ideal, no script, awkward silences, misunderstandings…

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice barely audible as your food arrived.

You both thanked the waiter politely and you hoped that at least now you’d have a good excuse for the lack of normal conversation.

“What are you sorry for?”

You sighed and nibbled on your lower lip, not missing the way his gaze instinctively flickered there, pupils dilating just a fraction – but enough for you to notice. Your heart skipped a pleased beat – but the undeniable physical attraction couldn’t be enough.

“For this,” you said, gesturing vaguely between the two of you. His features twisted in disappointment and something that looked a lot like regret flashed in his eyes. “I want to be here, Steve. I really do. I don’t know what’s wrong with me-“

“There’s absolutely nothing wrong with you,” he was quick to oppose and you couldn’t help it as a wry chuckle escaped you.

“Well, there’s certainly nothing wrong with you. And still, there’s this…”

“…tension?”

You wished.

“Sort of? But not the fun kind, for sure.”

He grimaced, but a spark of amusement lit up his blue irises. “Awkward air around us?”

“Yes!” you exclaimed victoriously as he voiced exactly what you were thinking. Then you quickly lowered your voice, looking around. Luckily, no one stared at you. You realized you leaned closer to him over the table, your heart racing at that, but you didn’t withdraw; it was a lovely opportunity to get even a better look at his perfect face. “But I don’t know why!” You knew why. “I like you, Steve-“

“I like you too. And I know I already said that, but you look stunning.”

Your cheeks burned again, but this time, you managed to stutter out a thank you at least. Stunning, Jesus, was he for real?

“T-thank you. You look incredibly handsome too. Then again you always do—why did I say that.”

One corner of his lips quirked up.

“Why thank you, I’m glad you did. The feeling’s mutual, believe me.”

“Then why does this feel like one of the most awkward dates I’ve ever been to?!” you whisper-yelled, causing him to chuckle, the tips of his ears turning red.

His hand once again landed on yours, this time deliberately, the gesture warming you in more than one way.

“Well… I’m nervous. You might be too.” You hummed in agreement. Was that all it was? “But the way you said it, at least it seems to me that it could have been worse, right? More awkward?”

You felt the corners of your lips rise at the remark, shrugging. He had a point there. And he squeezed your hand a bit and good Lord, it should not be making your heart race so much, but he was touching you and he was being really sweet and his fingers were nice and warm and long-

“Tell me.”

You blinked in surprise, realizing you had been staring at your joined hands. You raised your gaze, finding him watching you with a subtle smile.

“Tell you what?”

“Tell me about the most awkward date you have ever been to,” he clarified, his thumb caressing your wrist.

You only hesitated for a beat before you nodded in agreement, god knew why. Perhaps you did need a reminder that this could have gone much more disastrously and it was mostly your traitorous brain telling you that you were messing everything up.

Plus, Steve deserved whatever he wanted – so far, he was the only reason this date wasn’t as disastrous as it could be.

“Okay. You ever been to a speed dating event, Steve? Because I have.”

“Oh, this is ought to be good,” he noted with another squeeze to your hand, before he released you. Shame. He sipped at his wine and dug into his pasta. “I’m all ears.”

This is ought to be good, Steve said. Well, maybe. You certainly hadn’t thought so at the time.

Explaining to Steve that as you had been under duress from no other than Penny, you both went to the event which promised you meeting ten dashing men in only an hour. You’d get five minutes with each, as anonymous as you’d wished to be, receiving a folder with nothing but a table with the first names of the men and a yes and no option and a line for your own notes about them.

You weren’t sure what to think of it – but after three epically failed Tinder attempts, you agreed to try. If nothing else, you’d gain a new experience.

And an experience had it been. You even lasted a month with one of the guys, but you didn’t tell Steve that. It wasn’t important.

André was.

André Whatever-was-his-last-name – because that was how it worked, no last names – definitely believed he was important. With the guys moving around the tables from one woman to another, spending five minutes with each, you could already hear André closing to your station from two tables over.

He was hard to tune out, courtesy of the colour of his voice, extremely unpleasant to your ears, and him never letting the woman he faced talk. Always interrupting. Always turning the conversation around so it would be about him.

Asshole.

You liked to think you weren’t quick to judge people, but André was making you cringe before you were even introduced. And then you actually were.

A minute into his monologue to you, you felt like you were being tortured.

And then the waitress managed to stumble and spill a glass of white wine – partly over your table, but mostly on the floor. At least she caught the glass and you had but a tiny spot on your dress.

“She was apologizing so profusely and I wasn’t thinking, okay. I went for the napkins few tables over to help and— I didn’t realize I put the open folder down for everyone to see,” you explained, feeling like face-palming when you remembered the night.

Steve watched you in anticipation, a small smirk and a knowing look on his face as he guessed you had already circled ‘no’ for André at the time.

Oh, you wished it were that simple. You felt your cheeks burn hot as you continued.

“André read it, of course. Obviously, he already got a hard ‘no’ from me, but… I might have written a tiny note for myself as to why,” you admitted and Steve’s eyebrow rose minutely, his curiosity piqued even more.

You took a deep breath.

“I wasn’t exactly kind to him. It was something along the lines of self-important asshole who probably compensated for something.” Steve huffed in amusement. But oh, if he only knew... you sighed and continued. “And If Draco Malfoy and Gilderoy Lockhart had a love child, this would be him.”

No sound came from your companion this time and your teeth anxiously sank into our lower lip, your pulse wavering. What was Steve thinking? Did he think you had been rude? Mean even? Nerdy? All of the above?

He stared at you for full three seconds, clearly rendered speechless by your harsh judgement.

And then he burst out laughing.

Suffocating weight fell from your shoulders and you silently joined him as you explained yourself.

“I was in my Harry Potter phase! And in my defence, I think it was actually pretty accurate...”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that, sweetheart,” Steve chuckled lightly before laughing some more, irises twinkling with amusement and something… softer.

You shuddered upon hearing the endearment spill unwittingly from his lips, upon seeing the emotion on his face. And maybe you were a little proud of yourself for making him laugh and lose the tension in his shoulders completely.

“It was one of the longest and most awkward three minutes of my life, the silence that followed,” you huffed, massaging your forehead. “He did not appreciate the comparison.”

“I bet,” Steve cackled, taking another bite of his meal, smile playing in the corner of his lips as he swallowed and continued. “But you’ve got to give it to him, he knew his Harry Potter characters.”

“Ha! My thoughts exactly. But that’s a little bit of weak base for dating, I think, especially since I kinda already hated him.”

“Oh, you did? I didn’t catch that,” Steve joked lightly, causing you to smile despite the horrid memory.

And funnily enough, telling him and remembering it… it did make you feel better and more at ease with him.

“Ha ha ha, laugh it up, Professor. Your turn.”

“I’m sorry?” he said, clearly puzzled. It didn’t escape your notice as his voice faltered, his Adam’s apple bobbing at the addressing.

Oh, so that’ s still a thing. You couldn’t but smirk a bit at that.

“An awkward date. You have to share now, it’s only fair,” you shrugged, only for a terrible realization to dawn on you. “Please tell me there is at least one awkward date story, Steve. Tell me this isn’t really your worst date ever.”

He shook his head with a soft chuckle.

“Oh, there’s plenty. I’m just trying to think about one that won’t scare you away from me. I’d hate that.”

One corner of his lips raised, he looked you up and down, lingering on your lips for a bit before meeting your gaze, something you could only hope was fondness and wanton in his eyes. Your breath hitched, heat pooling in your abdomen at the thorough onceover despite the gentle tone of his voice.

Fuck how could he make you feel hot and soft at the same time.

Unable to stand the intensity of his stare, you lowered your gaze and gulped, your stomach making an excited slip. He did want you. You had been being silly, letting your nerves get the better of you.

Clearing your throat, you willed yourself to look up, finding him still watching closely – and perhaps, there was a hint of a red to his cheeks, the tip of his ears burning as if despite the blatant flirting, he was unsure of himself too, because he didn’t want to mess up with you either.

You found it absolutely endearing and your heart swelled. The way you got to see there was more to him than his professor side and his dashing looks… you felt incredibly lucky. The more you got to interact with him, the more it wasn’t just your sinful thoughts belonging to him – he was quickly working on stealing your heart as well.

Plucking up your courage, you were the one to reach out this time, carefully sweeping your thumb over the back of his hand, smiling.

“I’m not scared off all that easily, Steve.”

He mirrored your genuine smile, a glint of something you couldn’t read lighting up his eyes.

“That’s good to know,” he said lowly and sighed, narrowing his eyes as if he was assessing you again. “Alright, here goes…”

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You actually managed to get one more awkward date story from Steve, because frankly, his experiences were hilarious. And surprise surprise, he was a great narrator. Plus, while he talked, you could ogle him shamelessly without fear of looking strange.

But you guessed that since you were on a date, you could ogle him anyway. He didn’t seem to mind; in fact, whenever he got the opportunity, he reciprocated it. It finally did feel like a date, the air growing thicker as you gradually shifted closer and closer, the light touches prolonging, feet meeting under the table without parting as soon as they made contact.

Your belly kept warming up with each smile and laugh, with every second of the intense eye contact, with every flicker of his gaze to your lips and vice versa. Sharing a dessert was a terrible idea, because you wanted kiss the crumbs sticking on his lips away. You teased each other, you complimented each other – with Steve absolutely winning the undeclared contest – and you realized that despite sharing your most embarrassing dates with each other at the beginning, this was the absolute best you had ever been to.

And you didn’t want it to end.

The light sweater you had brought with you did nothing to shield you from the surprisingly lukewarm wind. As you wandered the streets, Steve finally heard out one of your first thoughts you had had when meeting him today – he shrugged off his suit jacket.

Which… yum. The seams of his shirt were crying for help and you could only think fo one way of helping them – taking his shirt off too. But alas, Steve didn’t continue the striptease, probably because you were on the street. Instead, he did the most wholesome thing and held out the jacket for you to slip into.

You only hesitated a moment, teeth sinking into your lower lip. How could you say no to that?

“That’s awfully cliché and really sweet at the same time,” you muttered, causing him to shrug, one corner of his lips raised in a smirk as he helped you put it on, forefinger most definitely deliberately caressing the side of your throat before withdrawing.

A shudder ran down your spine, electrifying feeling going straight to your core. The whiff of whatever cologne he was wearing enveloped you, clouding your senses. Goddammit he smelled so good.

“Maybe I just want to see you in my clothes,” he hummed, the suggestive remark knocking the breath straight out of your lungs.

Stepping to your side from behind your back, you caught a glimpse of his expression – a little bit smug, a little bit panicked as it probably registered with him just how much suggestive it was, perhaps crossing a line.

It was absolutely not crossing the line, because the thought of wearing his clothes, preferably grabbing it because you couldn’t find yours after you threw it all around the room as you frantically stripped each other was making your head spin in the best way.

“Maybe I’d really enjoy wearing your clothes after you rip off mine.”

Steve’s jaw went slack, a choked noise leaving him and you couldn’t but laugh at his dumbstruck expression. Surprise, professor, you little shit. I can keep up.

“That was… mean,” he said, clearing his throat. Your eyebrows rose, pot calling the kettle back style. “But I see how I deserved that.”

“Damn right… but that doesn’t mean it’s a lie,” you shrugged, chuckling at the exasperated look he shot you.

‘Man, she’s gonna fuck you up on a whole new level and I’ll be here for it in the front row with a bowl of popcorn,’ Barnes’ words to Steve which you weren’t meant to hear echoed in your head, making you grin.

The teasing was intense, yet you felt comfortable in it. You blamed Steve and his nature – he already felt like a guy to go lengths to make you feel at ease enough; the way he had kept insisting on you choosing whether this was a date or not only proved it. He made it easy to be yourself, making you feel like you could.

And he made it perfectly clear that he was enjoying seeing you like that, that he appreciated you as you were.

But the closer you got to the campus, the more the reality was settling in, your laughter fading, butterflies and heat replaced by anxiety. He was still a professor. If you went for it, it wouldn’t always be uncomplicated like this. The awkwardness crept in as your steps grew slower, the inevitable arriving.

He couldn’t walk you home, to walk you to the dorm, even if the desire to do so radiated from every fibre of his being. He couldn’t do that for the same reason he hadn’t picked you up.

You came to a stop, feeling like there was this invisible border to a safe, students-free part of the city, the line you couldn’t cross side by side.

“So, uhm… this is it, huh?” Steve hummed, grim. You appreciated the lame attempt at a smile though and reciprocated, turning to face him.

“Looks like it.”

Heavy silence settled over you pair. Your eyes trailed all over him, lingering on his face, noting as he did the same. He was beautiful; you didn’t care you should say that about a man. He was. The light in his eyes dimmed compared to that just a few moments ago, but it was still there, expression soft, almost as soft as his beard looked, causing your fingers to twitch in need to run them over it and pull him in for a kiss.

Your lips tingled as the idea. You had never kissed a man with a beard and you wanted to know how it felt. The fact it was Steve only sealed the deal and made the need grow exponentially.

You wanted to kiss him so bad. But here you stood, unable to move, unable to speak. You sighed.

“Would you-“ “I want to-“

“Sorry,” you and him said at the same time again, laughing it off quietly, your fingers running through your hair.

Your stomach clenched when you noticed his eyes following the movement almost wistfully.

“You go first,” he prompted you gently.

You didn’t argue – if you learned one thing tonight, it was that Steve was a gentleman and that was so rare these days that you wouldn’t want to discourage him from being that way. Even if you really wanted to know what he was about to say, as soon as possible.

“I… I just want to say thank you. For the… for the date. I had a good time, so I hope you had too, at least a little,” you offered lamely, feeling blood rushing to your cheeks.

Like a schoolgirl blushing in front of her professor. Jesus, why were you being like this again.

Steve didn’t seem to find you as awkward as you felt however, your name slipping from his lips, kind and soft.

“I had a very good time. You’re amazing.” Your lips parted at the blatant and genuine compliment. His eyes went wide. “I’m sorry, that came out so strong, I didn’t mean to put you in spot like that-“

Stronger than ‘maybe I just want to see you in my clothes?’ you asked yourself. No, you didn’t think so. It was just that the playfulness had left at least two blocks back.

This felt more serious. More intimate.

“Ditto,” you whispered, gracing him with a shy smile he instantly mirrored. “But hey, I already knew that, so…”

He chuckled, shaking his head lightly, his smile only growing. When he looked at you again, his eyes were the beautiful warm blue that made you weak in the knees.

“Would you like to do something like that again?” he queried lowly.

Yes. YES. YES PLEASE. Minus the awkwardness at the beginning and the one a moment ago, preferably.

“Yeah. I’d like that,” you agreed simply, taking note of how his face lit up even more.

How could a man be so indescribably hot and yet adorable enough to tug at your heartstrings?

“Good. I’m glad.”

He tugged at your hand unexpectedly, pulling you to your left, his other hand steadying you by gently grasping your forearm.

Before you could question his actions, a pair of men swaying in a drunken haze passed you, having no care in the world for whom they might crash into.

“Thanks,” blurted out lowly, sparing a second to shoot their backs a dirty glare.

But Steve’s hands were still on you, distracting, as you stood face to face, chest to chest, a little too close, a little too far. Your heart sped up in your ribcage, breathing picking up in anticipation. So close…

But all Steve did was to squeeze your forearm reassuringly, lifting your joined hands to his face.

Just like the day you agreed to get coffee with him, he kissed your knuckles, only this time it was much firmer. His smile was sweet and utterly irresistible as he kept looking at your face and you felt all the worries about the future melt away once again.

He was so precious and this felt so right and--- you didn’t want him to kiss your hand.

Well, you wanted it, but you wanted more too.

You had been aching to kiss that mouth since you had first set eyes on him, on that inhumanly gorgeous and hot creature. You were on a date, you both had a great time and clearly he was giving you the opportunity to decide how far you wanted to take this, because as much as every little touch of his made to crazy, the displays of affection were positively chaste.

And you wanted to take it very very far.

Your rational brain wouldn’t let you just hop into sac with him today, but fuck, you could do with a kiss. You wanted to feel that perfectly trimmed beard of his and you wanted to taste him.

Did he?

You stepped even closer as he let go of your hand, distracting you minutely; due to the sudden proximity, it landed on his chest and Jesus fucking Christ he was firm.

Your fingers clutched at the white fabric of his shirt as you observed his face, your gaze inevitably flickering to his lips. Glancing up once more to find him still watching you intently, pupils dilated, your breath caught in your throat, heat stirring in your belly.

Rising to your tiptoes, you gripped the fabric tighter and shortly pressed your lips to his.

It was a funny feeling – lips hot, soft and slightly chapped, a stark contrast to the beard, less rough than you expected, leaving a tingly sensation behind. It was different; exciting and addicting. Before he could react and before you could think twice, you kissed him again, this time lingering for a few seconds, your eyelids falling shut.

Your heart fluttered when you felt his lips reluctantly respond just as you withdrew, his grip on your arm tightening. You ran your tongue over your lips to savour the feeling, mouth instinctively curling up in a smile, gaze meeting his.

Little wrinkles appeared around his eyes as he smiled as well.

“You okay?”

You nodded, almost too eagerly, lowering back to your whole feet. Involuntarily, your gaze flickered to his mouth again, wanting more.

“Uhm… beard,” you piped up unhelpfully, pressing your lips together as soon as the admission left them.

Steve’s smile widened as he once again grasped your hand, leading it to cup his face – not before he dropped a kiss to your palm.

You almost let out a very embarrassing whine at the curious sensation, your mind, still enveloped in Steve’s warmth and cologne, wondering how the beard would feel elsewhere.

Your fingers unwittingly caressed the hair, thumb brushing his lips, unable to resist.

His Adam’s apple bobbed, lips parting, hot breath fanning over your skin as watched you.

“Sweetheart,” he breathed out and that was it – you pressed against the soft swollen flesh at the pet name, causing a low grumble echo in Steve’s chest.

And then his hand slid to your waist, the other sinking into your hair, and he pulled up into a kiss that had nothing to do with how patient he had been before. He was still a gentleman, but it was a close call – he angled your head to his liking, his lips dancing with yours in a sensual dance with just a tease of tongue licking at the seam of your lips, causing you to sigh in bliss, granting him access.

He hummed appreciatively, the sound shaking your bones as he held you flat against him, the heat of his body seeping into yours – as if every nerve ending in your body wasn’t on fire already. He breathed you in, consumed you entirely – there were no other words for it.

There weren’t many words you could think of to begin with, too busy feeling his broad shoulders under your palm, fingers roaming to find the soft hair at his nape, revelling at the taste of him, just a smidge of tongue and you wanted more, your insides twisting in need--- and oh, your back was pressed against a wall now.

You let out a small startled sound which Steve instantly swallowed – but it was a good wake up call for you both. The motions of his lips slowed, softened, a gentle caress more than anything, his thumb stroking your cheek.

Breathless, you chased after his mouth when he retreated, earning one small peck and then another. He rested his forehead against yours, nose briefly skimming yours, causing you to smile and meet his gaze.

“Sorry,” he muttered and you genuinely wanted to slap his arm or something for apologizing for that. Because you knew what you’d be thinking about for the next few hours, days even, hell, probably weeks. “For springing out like that. I just… wanted to do that for a long time.”

The admission had your heart skip a beat and you couldn’t but lean in to kiss the corner of his mouth – and nope, you weren’t over how it felt, his beard against your lips. You wouldn’t be over it for a long time, you suspected.

“Me too.”

“So… we’re doing this again, right?“

You smirked up at him as he reluctantly released you. “You springing out like that or-“

“Don’t test me, babygirl,” he nearly growled, causing your eyes going wide as saucers, feeling as if you were sucker punched to your gut – and liked it.

Babygirl. Jesus, he was going to be the death of you.

“You can spring out like that again too,” you chimed, your voice sounding a bit strangled, because holy shit he just called you that. His gaze flickered all over your face, a shade darker than before. Your underwear was thoroughly ruined with that single look… and the earlier make-out session. “But if we’re talking second dates, I’d definitely do that too.”

He huffed and shook his head, a chuckle escaping him.

“You’re a minx…. I think I like it.”

You grinned at him and then sighed regretfully, reaching to slip off the jacket, which made him frown.

“You could give it back later.”

“Don’t tempt me… don’t want to rob you of it--- and there would be questions,” you explained, knowing that even walking around the campus like what would raise rumours of god knew what.

Like, maybe someone would think some gentleman like Professor Steve Rogers himself lent it to you or something, gee, where would that come from...

Steve nodded in understanding, accepting the jacket and shrugging it on.

“Plus, I’m thoroughly warmed up,” you added cheekily, causing him to chuckle incredulously again. With a sigh, he leaned in, cradling your jaw in one large hand and pressed a sweet lingering kiss to your forehead.

You could melt on spot.

“Goodnight, sweetheart. Let me know when you get home safe?” he asked of you gently, tugging at your heartstrings some more, because of course he did.

“I will. You too?”

His smile was soft and sweet as he promised to do so, clearly touched by your care. Well, that made two of you.

“Goodnight, Steve. Thank you for tonight.”

“Thank you.”

You breathed in deeply, dropping a last kiss to his cheek and quickly spun on your heels to walk away – because if you wavered a second longer, you might have not left at all.

Sure, you looked back at him several times, finding him standing where you had left him, his eyes following your receding figure. But you kept walking.

And once you couldn’t see him anymore, you broke into a fit of giggles, hiding your face in your palms to muffle your delighted squeal.

You were just coming back to the dorms from the date with Steve Rogers.

And despite the hiccups, it was the best damn thing in the world, leaving you giddy and already craving another date and more. Your cheeks hurt from smiling by the time you made it to the dorms, your heart pounding excitedly the whole time.

As promised, you let Steve know you made there safe, earning another text with a heart. It only made you squeal again, fingers frantic as you replied – and with a kiss for goodnight so he knew you truly enjoyed your night, ending included.

What he didn’t know was that maybe, just maybe, the next evening you wrote a tiny story in which you elaborated at what could happen if he ever pushed you against a wall and kissed your breathless ever again.

And hopefully, he would.

Soon.

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

Attached masterlist

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

...how it happened? I was asked about the first date, very kindly and in a no pressure manner.

S: Hey, just out of curiosity, you don’t really have to answer… how do you imagine their first date went?

me: Hm, let me think, I guess, mm, it would be like this--- oh shit. Oh no. It’s gonna be a fic again, isn’t it? Maybe I could finally write a headcanon or a drabble--- sigh.

As if I could ever.

Thank you for reading :-*

#fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #professor steve rogers #steve rogers imagine #captain america au #modern au #professor au #college au #steve rogers #captain america #student reader #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fanfic #word is that we might work it out #attached #attached: word is that we might work it out #anika ann

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sleepless-in-starbucks · 3 years

Note

14 (bodyguard AU) and 46 (blind date) sounds fun,,, your choice of ship ( ˘ ³˘)♥ ( ˘ ³˘)♥ ( ˘ ³˘)♥

14. Bodyguard AU || 46. Blind date

Random choice generator got me creativisleep!

roman's a semi-popular actor- he's never really been to an awards show, and he's not been in That much, but he had a small but strong role in a real popular film and plenty of leading ones in lesser known movies. he's got enough of a following to be satisfied with himself, even if it isn't That huge of one

because of this, roman didn't take the possible dangers of his fame seriously... until he got jumped by one fan at a play in his hometown. he came out fine (he's always fine ;p) but it made him reconsider his choice to not have some sort of protection

he ends up hiring remy to be his bodyguard, a choice he Slightly starts regretting when he realizes remy, despite having excellent marks out of bodyguard school, is about as professional as a golden retriever

they take roman's food out of his fridge Whenever, borrow Way too many of his shirts (and roman hasn't seen his BMC 'boyf riends' hoodie since they got their hands on it), and is never in typical bodyguard wear (they wore a suit for the interview and never again)

but they also bring roman coffee (when did they get his regular figured out...?), talk to him like he's just a Person and not a celeb, and have yet to try and kill him themself so. roman's alright with them staying

(plus, is it so wrong if roman enjoys how they look? he deserves for a bit of an eye-candy sorta bodyguard, damnit, they're with him all the time after all)

remy's been with roman as his bodyguard for a few months when roman decides he cant just keep Lookin at a pretty person, he deserves to have a pretty person to kiss and cuddle with too!! so he pokes around for a bit, finds a non-homophobic service (he's pan, so he could Technically use a plain ol' straight service, but he refuses on gay principle), and uses it

idk how datin apps work but this one that im makin up is a blind match up app, which takes ur information and uses it to randomly pair u up with random accounts. the app keeps account info privated until After the first date has been gone on, to really maintain the 'blind match' aspect. the matched up people play a mini guessing game through the app about places they can go for a date until location and time is determined

roman likes the idea of the app mostly to keep his own identity secret as long as possible- he doesnt want people pickin his account Just bc he's a celeb, y'know?

the first couple of blind dates dont go well tho... most are nice people who roman just isn't compatible with, one was a straight woman who spent the entire date being Very homophobic despite roman's rainbow heart + pan flag pins, and someone who was clearly Too Much Of A Fan (remy had to physically pull them off of roman and help him escape the park before they could latch back on)

oh, did roman not mention? remy's been coming on all his dates with him

because of course they are! they need to protect roman! whether that's by eating dinner in the booth over or sitting two rows back at the cinema or awkwardly half-stalkin roman and his date while they walk about

so they're always there, to bring roman there and take him home, and listen when he complains about the bad matches and lament the almost-winners, and convince him he is a catch that needs to try again because eventually Someone will realize he really is too good to pass up

(remy always says that line in a weird way)

so he keeps trying... until roman has possibly the worst date ever

because he gets stood up. it's fifteen minutes past the scheduled date time, he's gotten no text explainin where they are, but he's sittin at the restaurant alone and starting to become rather upset by the pitying look the server gives him when he says he's still waitin on someone else before he orders

remy slides into the seat across from him at the 20 minute mark. shoots roman an apologetic smile that an outsider would mistake as a 'sorry im late' one when roman knows it's a 'sorry they didnt show' one

roman appreciates the gesture to save him, but he almost just wants to go home at this point. he's tired and bein stood up feels like Shit, actually, and he's about ready to call off the whole dating thing really, dramatic as that may be (like it's not his middle name)

but remy says smth about this place having really good sandwiches, and it's clear they're tryin so hard to help roman out here, even a little, and roman can't just dismiss that effort, so he picks up his menu again and orders smth and tries to ignore the way his face heats up just the slightest at the relieved smile remy flashes next

lunch with remy is great, actually, better than it would've been with whoever couldnt be bothered to show or apologize or Anything. remy even knows the way to an ice cream shop on the way home, sayin it's for roman's 'broken heart' as they pay for it

except, well... roman's heart isn't feelin so broken anymore

it's actually feeling pretty put together. really functional. functioning really fast. especially when roman's looking at remy. or when remy's lookin at roman. or when they smile. or when they laugh. or when they speak. or when they-

roman doesn't fall asleep until 2am that night, heart still racing a bit, screaming into his pillow a bit as he acknowledges he is wholly and totally head-over-heels for his bodyguard

he tells remy the next day he's done with dating for a bit, saying he's still upset over being stood up. he doesn't mention that it's also bc remy's ruined all other people for him

things try to fall back in routine from there, but it's a bit harder when roman's trying to not be so in love with someone who just works for him. and remy's definitely started pickin up on it too- they had asked him just last if he was okay, that he didn't seem as upset by remy takin his clothes anymore, and that didn't seem like him, was he getting sick?

the opposite, actually, absolutely nothing makes me feel better then seeing you walk around in my shirt or jacket or whatever else, please never stop and also kiss me?

roman just said he was tired

eventually... roman decides this can't keep going on. remy's giving him more weird looks these days, and roman is pretty sure being around remy so much without Any kisses is starting to cause brain decay (it's not, it's really not, remy always bein on his mind is just a side effect of.... pretti........). so, he takes matters into his own hands

admittedly, maybe firing remy wasn't the best way to go, given remy immediately demands to know why, what they did wrong, even asking if roman's being blackmailed into this

"blink once for yes, twice for no" remy asks, lowering the sunglasses they always have on to look directly at roman's eyes

roman doesn't blink for a full minute. he might not be breathing for that minute either. has he ever seen remy's eyes this close? has he ever seen them at all? they're such a brilliant shade of brown. roman could drown in them. he might be already

roman's pretty sure he started this conversation standing up, but maybe not, because when he finally blinks and remembers things outside of remy's eyes exist he's sitting down and remy looks extremely concerned

"okay... what's wrong, hun?" they ask, and oh no, they look so sad, and worried, and that's not good, roman should fix that right now, regardless of whatever he was doing before (he's forgotten)

"im gay" he responds intelligently. this will fix everything

remy, however, just looks confused. "yes?"

"for you" roman adds, helpfully, sure that Now remy will understand they're just really very pretty and nothing's wrong and if they feel bad still they should look in a mirror because then they'll be good again

now it's remy's turn to sit in silence, expression frozen in one of shock. they still havent put their sunglasses back on, so roman doesnt mind, bc this gives him more time to stare at remy's eyes

"you're having a breakdown because you're gay for me???" remy finally asks, expression unfreezing to look incredulous and a little hurt

roman returns a similar look. "im not having a breakdown!"

remy scoffs. "yeah, sure, right, that's why you suddenly froze and completely stopped breathing and minorly collapsed after i... look off my shades to look at you..." they suddenly break out in a smirk. "oh my gods, you're a gay disaster"

roman doesn't try to deny it, especially with the knowledge he apparently did stop breathing to admire remy's eyes. they have a point

"how long?"

"since that date you hijacked after i got stood up" roman admits. he finds it extraordinarily rude when remy starts laughing

...until they're pulling out their phone, hurriedly opening up the exact same dating app roman had been using, showing a log of all the dates they had planned- there's only one marked as having actually been attended

same date time and place of the one where roman had assumed he had been stood up

"you broke my heart!" roman says as remy puts away their phone, over-dramatically, not actually giving a damn, just feeling gay and a bit giddy at the thought remy hadnt gone to any of the other dates, just theirs

no longer worried quite as much about roman for the moment, remy's smirk just grows, smoothly moving from being crouched in front of roman to being set firmly in his lap, lazily brushing hair out of his eyes and wow was remy always this warm? and stunning? and perfect?

"i dunno babe... sounds more like i stole it" remy teases, movin from playing with roman's hair to cuppin his cheek, leaning in close and not even bothering to pretend to be looking at anything other than roman's lips. "which, yeah, bad bodyguard etiquette... i hope you can forgive me..."

roman doesn't need his words to answer that tease

#oops this got long ':) i got distracted by the gays... happy pride month djhbvcfjds #fanfic #creativisleep #ts roman #ts remy #nb!remy #the cryptid speaks #meri #yeah roman just. has an all out gay panic disaster moment right there #poor man 😔#also my characters keep ending up kissin in each other's laps can y'all tell im a touchstarved gay yet /hj

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cipher-fresh · 3 years

Text

Just Out Of Reach

Posting on tumblr due to Discord's character limit, this one's a lot longer than my other ones. A prompt from @marlinspirkhall about how food on the holodeck doesn't exist once you step off it got me thinking. TW for violence, injury, blood, food, eating disorders I think (?? rather safe than sorry) and long-term distress. Thank you for the Federation gothic prompt!

It's fuzzy, you remember the ship leaving spacedock after repairs, and some of the anticipatory silence as the odd lack of Dominion ships greeted your rush toward the Bajoran sector to help recapture Deep Space Nine and the Bajoran wormhole. You had never been this far away from home, but you'd tried to steel yourself. The red alert had blared in your ears, and you don't remember much else. You look down. You're bleeding. You curse, and look around for medical supplies.

You're in a dark building, with debris strewn around. A force field makes it's presence known as a hurtling piece of Dominion ship tailwing is stopped in it's tracks from perhaps it's original destiny of destroying wherever you were. If there was a forcefield up, there must be an energy source. You find you had crash-landed here, as there's an escape pod near the fallen bulkheads. You saddle up with the materials from the escape pod, and hunt around for any available resources on whatever man-made, oxygenated building you'd been lucky enough to land in. You put your bag down, and take off your Starfleet outer shirt. You're still wearing the gray undershirt, and over it you tie the main shirt over the wound. You wish it had been an easier area to tie, like your lower leg, and press on. After a trek over fallen metal, everything from large carts, a whole shuttle, bulkheads and PADDs, you find the opposite wall, marked with a plaque designating it the Miyamoto, a mini-space station hardly the size of a neighborhood street. Some place, you scoff. It feels like a shadowy castle fallen into disrepair, with the flickering lights looking like the occasional sunbeam brightening it. Atmospheric, at least, if it wasn't going to comfortable. It feels as if you could almost hear sad music, accentuating just quite how dark the station was, cold and alone. The Miyamoto station echoes sadly, the destruction and carnage of Dominion and Federation ships making their final stand above the station feeling long off, although you could place it as happening mere hours ago. Continuing onward, you clear a path the best you can of the debris on the ground, in case you round this area again.

You see places that look like shops- the *Miyamoto*, as per it's informational plaque, was a station commissioned and controlled by Starfleet, but it had housed many Federation-aligned planets, that is to say, planets that hadn't joined the Federation for one reason or another, but remained in contact with it, politically or economically. Your journey around the station ends as you look back down at your outer shirt, wrapped around your torso wound, and it's too red with blood for comfort. You take an unfortunate, seething inhale, processing what this might mean. You have no other than the most basic medical supplies on your bag, and you're alone on a mini-space station with debris that was ripe to fall over and crush you at any time. Nobody else seems to have crashed near you. You're alone, on an at least semi-functioning, mini-space station. And you were determined to survive. The bleeding cut on your torso should be dealt with first. Can't look for food or set up a distress call if you're bleeding to death. You take a tricorder from the bag, and scan around for anything useful. It picks up gauze a few meters ahead of you. Better than your shirt, certainly. You navigate toward it with the tricorder's map, and it navigates you to a holodeck, you recognize from the doors. Gauze in the holodeck? You thought the violin music had been a symptom of a bleeding body and the brain processing your day, but no, the violin was louder. Getting closer to the holodeck, that made more sense. It was extremely lucky the program was still running. You walk inside. The inside is a gothic, turn-of-the-century sort of laboratory. Indeed, a holodeck character playing a violin spots you, and huffs.

"You're bleeding. Are you looking for my partner, Dr. Watson?"

You take a moment- oh, this was a Sherlock Holmes program. You doubt Dr. Watson could help you, but then you take a moment to think. Emergency Medical Holograms are just as holographic as Dr. Watson here, and they have helped millions of people. You're too tired to act, so you ask him, "Yes, I need a doctor. Can you get him?" Too much also eating at your mind to enjoy the program, Dr. Watson fixes you up in the flat. You wince at the old medical technology, and wish the two of them lived in a period of time with more current medicinal knowledge. - Wait. "Computer?" you say. "Change the time period to, uh, 22nd century. No, I mean, to today. 24th century. Keep Sherlock and Watson with me." The computer responds to your request, and you see the program change around you. You laugh at the mystery-solving duo's updated outfits for the 24th century, then look back at Dr. Watson. It's a little jarring how seamlessly they continue from the jump in time, but better that than their program stop working. Watson asks a replicator- a holographic replicator, which makes you laugh a little bit, for a dermal regenerator, and you get patched up. "Stick around for a cup of tea?" Watson asks. "Sherlock really wants to know why you broke into our flat." You consider it. You've heard jokes from non-Federation species when trying out holodecks for the first time, "Calories don't count on the holodeck!" Anything you eat here wouldn't sustain you, the minute you left the holodeck. You could activate this program so long as there was energy to the station, but food was a priority. Assuming the *Miyamoto* had been in a tussle just a few hours ago during your fly-over to Deep Space Nine, now was a crucial time to find genuine replicators before they went offline. You leave the holodeck. You see the gauze over your injury (kept for good measure) disappear as you exit the holodeck, but not the skin you'd grown back from the dermal regenerator. The gauze was holographic, but the stimulated skin cells and tissues were not. You follow the path set by rounding around the small, circular station, and tracing your steps back through the cleared path you made. Your injury healed, you could now look around and find something to eat. You follow around a downloaded map of the *Miyamoto* from the plaque's infochip, and hunt down all the replicators marked on the station. One by one, they're all broken, in pieces, or missing. Maybe the station was in poor shape to begin with. You take another trip around- at least you're getting plenty of exercise in, you halfheartedly cheer- and visit all the food shops. You raid the fridges, cabinets and cupboards, and still find nothing. Intending to not be disheartened, you sit down for a moment. Your hunger is suddenly made aware to you, your vision swirling. Not good, you decide. Your stomach hurts, and you try to remember the last time you ate. Breakfast on- on the *USS Halay*. Maybe tea with Dr. Watson wouldn't be so bad, you assure yourself. You have some food with the two of them, think of a new plan, then go back out there and find some food. Some water, while you're at it, too. You walk back, and almost trip over debris you swore you moved out of your path. You enter back to the holodeck, and smell the fresh air. You find Watson and Sherlock again, and you're offered a pastry you can't remember the name of. You eat, and have some tea, and you feel at peace. You're still directly aware of the stakes, you're stuck on a space station in the middle of nowhere, but you're at least still alive. And going from desperately hungry out there to the sweet scent of buttered pastries in here in a still-peaceful London before the Dominion invaded was a sense of home you'd missed. You sat down, and considered your optics. If you left now, you'd probably be just as hungry as before, but here, you could come up with a plan, and make the time before it worth it. You clued in the holographic Sherlock and Watson into it, without exposing to them they were holograms. Quite tricky, it was, but you were glad they got over

their suspicions and were just willing to help. You and the two problem-solvers looked over the schematics of the *Miyamoto*, and found from your walkaround of the station, the replicator at the Bolarian food shop was the least broken- it had gotten halfway to forming bread before it puttered out. Although not quite a chief engineer, this seemed to be your only option. You picked back up your supplies from the escape pod that you'd kept with you, and journey off to the replicator. You feel the distinct hunger pangs as soon as you leave, and almost regret leaving. Little matter. You'd already gone and done it, you might as well make it worthwhile. You get to the replicator, and try to recall your engineering training. Basic engineering design over necessary machines like replicators and transporters were required classes at the Academy, and you couldn't remember a thing from it. You open a hatch at the back and fiddle with some of the wires and steel EPS hubcaps, and put everything back into place. Not ever quite sure what to do, you feel a fog in your brain, you know you're putting a square peg in a round hole as you try to fix this. You screw things on and off, scan it, flip a switch. Closing the hatch, you hit it for good measure, and try replicating food again. It produces a gray slop of what could only technically be edible, organic material. You take your tricorder out and get a holo-scan of it. A moment of darkness in your vision, you fall to the ground. You're really feeling it. You hold a hand to your stomach, and close your eyes tight. It hurts, it does. You could make the feeling go away, if you just went back.

A deep breath, and you turned around. Just back for a second.

Desperate to get back to the holodeck, you're assured you can figure out the replicator's problem with the holo-imager scans. You get back inside, and feel the pleasant, clean air, and walk back inside. Ravenously, you scarf down the food given to you, and you can feel your mind finding clarity again. If you could find a way to fix the replicator while inside the holodeck, you'd be set. You could fix it there, and only be hungry from the minute you walked over to the replicator, no brain fog as you tried to fix it. Maybe engineers had "Don't fix things on an empty stomach" as a rule. If not, they should. You spend a few more hours there, going over the specs of the replicator, sitting in the nice flat. It's an amalgamation of every depiction of 221B ever put to screen, and all the books are real, wholly scripted ones. You chuckle, certainly sure only a man of fiction could read so many books, bookshelves stacked wall to wall. Many of them had frantically scribbled notes and writings in them. After some time, you fall asleep. You're woken up by Watson, telling you again that you need to wake up. You rub your eyes, and consider everything from the day previous. Hungry, stuck on a space station with no food, and surviving in the holodeck. This would be a lovely nightmare to wake up from, eh? Lovely, for the fact you're waking up, you joke. "-get out there and find something to eat or your body will starve. Please. The program-" You burst out from under the blanket on the couch. Dr. Watson looks at you. "Sherlock and I put together that you're on a holodeck. Incredible inventions, truthfully, but what is more important now is your life. You haven't eaten in how long? A human would starve after not eating for-"

"About a week. But without water is a different story. Three days, at most." Sherlock filled in. You swallowed. Wonderful. You look back at Watson. "Please, we're trying to help you. You need to head back out there." That's the last thing you want to do.

Neither of them were being helpful. "Look, we can't leave the holodeck. All we can do is-" "I don't care!" you yell. "I'll just-stay in here until I figure it out." The two exchanged looks with each other. Watson got closer to you. You feel small. Threatened. "You're Starfleet, right? You haven't even given us your name. How about you-" You lash out. "Computer, delete characters Sherlock and Watson." "Not possible." "Fine! Delete whatever you need to get rid of them." "Confirmed." the computer says. The two of them phase out of existence. You breathe heavily. You hope they won't be mad at you. "Computer, change scenery. Somewhere on Earth. As far away from Sherlock as possible." "Changing location to Dunedin, New Zealand." the computer replied. You stop, and catch your breath. You'd just- stay in here. For a while. Yeah.

The systems of the Miyamoto station degrade. The holodeck, over time, begins to lose critical imaging projectors. One corner of the holodeck shows the depressingly bare and black wall, the whole program not covering the entire room. You try not to mind. You sleep. If you could just- just learn how to fix the replicator....no. You have everything you need right in here. Everything....you need. You take an arduous breath. The holodeck doors have sealed shut. The imagers have stopped working. You're trapped inside. A lone Starfleet officer starves to death on a holodeck, over an agonizing three days, just as Sherlock predicted. The Miyamoto station is destroyed by the Breen a year later, unimportant and completely alone. If one listened closely, passing an unimportant, tiny little station, they may have heard faint music of a violin.

#star trek #my writing #federation gothic #uss lilac #blood #dominion war #ds9 #wasn't planning to add sherlock holmes to the mix but when I had the injury and the violin i couldn't resist

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traincat · 4 years

Note

I’ve read through your entire AO3 catalogue (SO amazing by the way), and now I’m wondering if you wouldn’t mind doing a rec list of your personal favorite spideytorch fics?

First off, thanks for reading my fic! I’m super glad you enjoyed -- there’s more coming! I know I keep saying that but I do mean it! Second off, I am really bad at making reclists generally because I am not an organized person and I always feel like I’m forgetting someone and etc etc. But I figured I should probably do something about that so I did finally bookmark a bunch of my favorite fics on Ao3. (You’ll have to scroll past a bunch of The Untamed fic at the top but after that everything there so far is Spider-Man and Fantastic Four fic.) I’m probably missing some favorites in there because I did those fast, but, it’s a work in progress. And I’m going to endeavor to be better about bookmarking things in the future so there’ll be a semi-organized little functional reclist sitting right there. Also, I blanket rec everything by Gleesquid and OneShinyApple. They’re both terrific.

That being said, some of my Spideytorch favorites:

A Melody That's Calling Your Name by gleesquid (rated T)

When a boy gets trapped in the Baxter Building fire, Peter must make a quick choice: let the boy die terrified in the flames or gain his trust by showing him what's underneath his mask. In the end, it's no choice at all.

But when that same boy shows up on the first day of senior year, Peter finds himself caught in a spiraling lie. The next thing he knows, he's got a boyfriend, he's starring in a musical, he's going to rich kids' costume parties, and he's realizing that maybe there are worse things than having someone know your biggest secret.

You'd think high school couldn't get any weirder than a radioactive spider bite, but that's just the Parker Luck.

Between the Smoke and Ruins by gleesquid (rated T)

The Fantastic Four: Heroes. Villains. Gods. Ghosts.

Oh, how the mighty do fall.

In which Johnny Storm tries to save his family, Spider-Man tries to save the world, and they might as well save each other along the way.

sweet like honey, don't need money (all i need is you) by gleesquid (unrated)

“I can’t do it anymore. I’m kicking you out."

“That’s too bad, Johnny,” Peter said. “But I guess I’ll still see you out in the field."

“Both of you,” said Sue. “Until you learn to behave yourselves in shared living quarters, you’re not living here anymore.”

you light my morning sky by gleesquid (rated T)

“I dunno, maybe the huge flaming words in the sky that said, ‘MEET ME AT THE USUAL PLACE. IT’S URGENT.’ In my ever so humble opinion, ‘urgent’ usually means fire, or ‘all my super powered teammates have been kidnapped,’ or ‘the stock market’s about to crash so you better buy bread now.’ Not ‘I ran outta hairspray.’”

Johnny touched a hand to his hair – which, admittedly, felt a bit stiff. “You think I used too much?”

“I’m a real fan of Elvis, honest.” Spidey ruffled Johnny’s hair. Johnny could feel his flame curling in his stomach, his toes, and every inch that Spidey’s gloved hand touched. “But you might not wanna take styling tips from him.”

Or: The year is 1966, and Johnny Storm loves hairspray and Spider-Man a little too much.

The World, reversed by Euphorion (rated T)

Julia leaned forward and plucked the card she’d given him from his hand like she was cheating at Go Fish, holding it up so he could see the figure. “The Fool,” she said. “They’re like—the protagonist of the Tarot, or, conversely, maybe its subject. All the other cards—the minor and major arcana—are ways they feel about things, or things that happen to them, or people who they meets along the way who change them.” Her finger tapped the card, indicating the figure’s raised, bell-adorned foot, and the cliff beyond. “The Fool is the beginning of the personal journey. See? One more step takes them over the edge.”

“Huh,” said Peter. “Good thing Johnny can fly.”

Built To Fall Apart (and Back Together) by oneshinyapple (rated E)

The day after Johnny kissed him on top of the Statue of Liberty, Spider-Man disappeared. One year later, multimillionaire-in-the-making Peter Parker launches a company with his best friend, Harry Osborn. The last thing he needs is a complication like Johnny. But what was meant to be a one-night stand quickly spirals into something else, and everything is further turned upside-down when mysterious portals to another universe appear and they learn that there are two constants in the life of Johnny Storm: Peter Parker, and being left behind.

the things that you want (are so hard to find) by oneshinyapple (rated E)

“No, trust me, you don’t want to die by anaconda the way they do it in the movies, Johnny. It would be terrible.”

“It’s gotta be better than being eaten by a shark.” He pointed at the TV. “Look at them screaming in pain!”

“You wouldn’t actually feel anything. The brain tends to shut out pain in the face of—”

“Oh, God. No. Don’t science it.”

In Love At a Coffee Shop by oneshinyapple (rated T)

Teen pop sensation Johnny Storm stumbles into a coffee shop while escaping from a horde of fans. Who else should save him but Peter Parker, grumpy barista extraordinaire?

Any caffeine addict would probably be just a little bit in love with their coffee dealer, and baristas were just automatically hotter when they were drizzling caramel all over someone’s whipped cream.

picture this by lowfuellight (rated M)

Peter sighed heavily. The young boy of about ten standing beside him didn’t look up from his handheld device. “It’s a child, Torch,” said Peter. “You’ve seen children before.”

Bring That Summer by pommenade (rated T)

Juggling the duties of Spider-Man as well as his life as CEO of Parker Industries was easy. Peter Parker had years of practice. Add in a clandestine relationship with Johnny Storm and things got a bit more complicated. Add in Johnny's Instagram account, and suddenly Peter's life is impossible.

Better in Picture by weekend_conspiracy_theorist (rated T)

In which Peter Parker has no interest in sleeping with Matt Murdock, no matter what anyone seems to think.

all of these thousand miles by hippolytas (rated T)

One year after the Fantastic Four have disappeared: where are they now?

No one really has a clue, and Johnny seems to be the only one still searching for answers. When the universe (or someone with control over it) starts sending him signals, Johnny decides that it's time to go looking. Peter's just coming along to make sure he survives the experience. It all goes about as well as can be expected.

#spideytorch #losers who deserve each other #fic recs #*replies

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k-writer1998 · 3 years

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Who Said Love Was Easy? (12/12)

There are many different kinds of people who come and go from your life. Some will stay constant and sturdy like a river, growing alongside you, others will come like a whirlwind who wreaks havoc and leaves just as quickly, then there is everything in between. In this twisted maze of connections, that is where our story begins. A steadfast boy, a girl with a past, a little bit of alcohol, mistakes, and some love. Where can you go wrong with that?

angsty fluff

w.c: two words short of 2.6k 😃

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I’ve been staying at Changbin’s for a week and a half now because we both knew that me alone wouldn’t be a functioning person at the moment. After initially talking to Jaehyung to let him know not to expect me in my apartment for the time being, I’ve tried to avoid him. Always scared that the next call or message would be my bright neighbor’s weakened voice telling me he lost the building… What I hated the most about my current state though was the fact that I’m still worried for Jeongin even after everything. If I told Changbin he would call me a fool but I couldn’t help it. He was a good kid aside from the fact that he is blinded by his… “love”… There was a small hope that he would change his mind as if salvation had found him and opened his eyes but there are no miracles. Why don’t I ever learn? Safe to say I didn’t go out much for the time being and maybe skipped a class… or three. Sadly Changbin coerced “encouraged” me to go at least to the pub so here I was back in my usual corner and watching everyone move about the pub. A reminder that life continued even if I wished it stopped. Seungmin was the one to take my order and once he brought it over he sat across from me.

“Hi?”

“I wanted to check in since you’ve been hiding.”

“You and everyone else. Get in line,” I quip playfully.

“Seeing as though I’m the most involved, I have rights,” he shot back.

“I see your point… I’m fine I guess, there’s nothing more I can do on my part after all.”

“I meant you personally, not the situation. I heard it got a little… complicated.”

“It’s not a big deal, I’m already over that. Not like he’s the reason for the response in the first place, wait that doesn’t make- well you know what I mean.”

“Can’t really say it's good you’re better when you aren’t, no matter how hard you try to play it off, but I did want to say thank you.” Seungmin is perceptive as usual, maybe that’s where Jeongin learned it from.

“For being dumb and getting my feelings hurt? I think “sorry” is more appropriate, but what did I do to deserve such thanks?”

“You got the clock turning again, I see things getting better soon.”

It was nice to talk to Seungmin because he never tried to avoid talking about Jeongin like everyone else but I hated myself for that feeling. I said I couldn’t watch him do it yet I’m grasping at any thread of news about him. Please you idiotic heart, when will it be enough before you stop chasing after this guy who doesn’t want us? Swallow down that surge of hope, experience has shown it’s nothing but bad news.

“I’m too sober for cryptic messages and empty promises, Seungmin.”

“I’m serious. You know better than anyone that the people involved tend not to see what’s going on right in front of them. He kept a lot of it to himself but he is working for a change.”

“Good for him.”

I couldn’t help the edge in my voice. It’s frustrating to know that it took me blowing up and leaving for him to finally get his act together. It almost feels like I was a stepping stone and I’ve served my purpose… will there be no way back to him? No y/n, not again. Don’t get sad when you’re the one who burned that bridge. I’m pretty sure Seungmin saw the change in my mindset because the conversation slowly changed directions. When I got back to Changbin’s I flopped down on the couch, tired out from trying to appease Jaehyung and his whining to visit him more often. Just as I was wondering where Changbin was he came storming in, fuming.

“Hey, hey, hey,” I stopped him from going to his room. “What’s up? You seem actually angry and not like… slightly annoyed kind of angry.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You know you’ll lose out in a game of persistence, just save yourself the trouble.”

“It’s just work stuff, you don’t want to hear it.”

Ah. He specifically doesn’t want to tell me. Of course that means he probably had some type of interaction with Jeongin. It was inevitable with a new project coming through with him at the head of it… it’s gonna need to be advertised. I roll my eyes and turn him to face me before crossing my arms.

“You know that “all-knowing” thing in best friendship is a two-way road right? What did Jeongin do? I can’t avoid the topic forever and it’s not like he can say anything else that could hurt me.”

“I hate you… Okay don’t get mad...”

“I-” I stop myself to mentally prepare not to get mad. “Talk.”

“I told him to stay out of your life.”

“Did he say something to you to prompt this?”

“No?”

“Seo Changbin you’re lucky best friend privileges are keeping you alive right now. Why would you say that when it’s been pretty clear that that’s how things were going already?”

“I wanted to make sure that everyone was on the same page.”

“I both love and hate your overprotective ass,” I sigh. “But anyways, that doesn’t explain why you’re so peeved.”

“Well… He said it was your choice where your friendship went and I had no say.”

“I mean… he has a point.”

“Are you really gonna forgive him after everything?! Not even gonna consider your best friend’s warnings?”

“Of course I will but you have a one-strike-you’re-out rule while I have a three-strike-”

“He’s gone past three strikes if you ask me,” he grumbled.

“AND I consider the positives that counteract the strikes,” I continued with a roll of my eyes.

“But he sent you into pattern four and you’ve only ever done that like once.”

“There were other things and you know that, although yes it was all based on his actions but-”

“You’re too nice for your own good, if he comes back you're willing to forgive him aren’t you?”

“I mean if there were changes made before then yeah… forgiveness doesn’t mean everything is swept under the rug though.”

“Fine, fine. You won’t listen to me anyways. Just don’t let yourself get hurt again because if there is a next time I won’t hold back even if you beg.”

I jokingly pulled him down for a hug as he whined and complained. After a bit I let him go do what he needed as I retired back to the guest room. Jeongin is doing… something… From what Changbin says it seems that he wants to apologize and Seungmin was hinting that there was a positive change. Now, whether that positive change is a good thing for me or not is the question. Aside from hearing things from all these outside sources, the man himself has yet to speak to me so is it all a bluff? Then there is the thing with the pub and all that business stuff… was he able to put a stop to it? He did combat me on that though saying there was nothing he could do so maybe not? Things are too vague, I won’t be able to come to any conclusions. Can I handle seeing him? A week’s definitely not enough time but I do miss him. With a groan I ruffle my hair in frustration. Make up your mind y/n! Or better yet let’s sleep and think about it another time, my brain chimed in as I buried my face in my pillow and that I did.

Days ticked away as I was still stuck on all of this. Everything has been quiet and I couldn’t help the sliver of hope that flickered to existence. I didn’t let it grow any bigger though. Just because he saved the pub doesn’t mean everything between us, whatever mess we’ve made of it, is fixed. After a few days Changbin, fed up with me lost in thought constantly, advised me to go outside… meaning he literally took me out then abandoned me. His response, after a long chain of “choice” messages I sent, was I needed fresh air and sunlight like some plant. At least Changbin dropped me in a semi-familiar area so once I spotted a familiar café name I bought myself a pastry and a coffee and sat by the window. My mind started to drift off as I started people watching. Might as well try to enjoy the outside. There was the pair of high schoolers giggling amongst themselves and running off to the arcade across the street. Then there was the tired office worker who entered the café, probably sent to pick up coffee for the team because- wait. Why does that worker look familiar? As I racked my brain, I hadn’t realized I was staring at him until we made eye contact and he waved at me. The drunk night.

“Hey Jeongin’s friend. It’s been a while, are you here to surprise him?”

“Haha no, I was just in the area,” I forced a smile.

Why didn’t I notice why I knew this area? Of all places, why did Changbin leave me here?! His stupid ass probably didn’t realize… ugh. And of all things why did this man approach me?! I mean my bad for staring but you could've just ended with the wave.

“Well if you’re free you should check in on him, he’s been working so hard lately. You kids need to learn how to take a break every now and then.”

“I just might,” I responded cheerily.

After that his order was called and we said our goodbyes. My body slumps back into my chair as a sigh passes through my lips. Whatever, I don’t care if this is near Jeongin’s work, I’m not leaving. It’s not like I did anything wrong so why do I have to hide? Plus if that manager already grabbed coffee it's not like he would show up… Stop. We are here for coffee, don’t play those stupid “what if” scenarios right now. So what if he shows up? He doesn’t own this place so I can be here if I want, why do I have to worry? With the renewed confidence I sipped my drink and finished off my pastry as I continued my game of people watching. It was back to having a good time until I saw a tuft of hair weaving around the crowd. Hmm, who's chasing that person? The moment the person broke through the crowd I instinctively turned away as they hunched over to catch their breath. How in the- why is he- I quickly moved, hoping he didn’t catch me at the window. God, I tried so hard to hype myself up but here I am still running. Moving close to the door, the moment his figure entered and started looking around I took the opportunity to slip out. As my feet took me further from where he was, the tension slowly seeped out of my shoulder as well. That is until I heard it and although everything in me screamed to keep moving my heart had control of my feet which froze in place.

“Y/n wait!”

Against better judgement I turned to his disheveled figure approaching me although he stopped a few steps away. His hair was a tousled mess and his chest huffed for the oxygen all that running had deprived it of. Unsure of what all this was for, I opted to keep quiet and let him settle a bit so he could make the first move.

“Uhm… hi…”

“What are you doing Jeongin?”

“I don’t know… sunbae said he saw you at the coffee shop and I felt like if I didn’t try to see you now, I don’t know if I would ever see you again.”

“And do you think that’s because of me or your own cowardice?” I didn’t want to be so icy but all my energy was going towards protecting my heart so none was spared to protect his feelings.

“Probably my own cowardice. Things were left in a bad state so I didn’t think I had a right.”

“If you know then why are you here?”

“I may not have the right but I don’t want to lose you-”

“Don’t. Stop making it sound like there’s something when there isn’t.”

“Sorry… but those are my honest feelings, you are important to me y/n.”

“But what’s changed other than your mindset? Sadly there were a lot of other pressing matters that caused such an… explosive dispute.”

“I know, believe me. To ease what I’m sure you’re most worried about, I was able to convince my dad of a better location to open his franchise so the pub is safe.”

Relief immediately washed over me but I steeled my expression to hide it. Be strong y/n at least try to keep your word to Changbin and not forgive him so quickly, there are still things that hurt you personally that haven’t been addressed.

“I’ve also had a proper talk with Gahyeon, which included properly confessing and getting rejected although it didn’t hurt all that much cause you were right… I was clinging to something that wasn’t there anymore.”

“Well that’s all good for you and everyone at the pub… If that’s it I’ll just-”

“Wait! You haven’t heard the most important one yet!”

He took a deep breath before looking me dead on and there was that gaze again as if he could see me and not just see “me”. Although he’s rambling he is trying, I’ll give him that. Giving him an apprehensive look over, he took that as an okay and continued.

“I’m sorry… for a lot of things.”

“What? Did Seungmin tell you about what I said the other day?” I responded flatly.

“Wha- no! I’ve felt sorry since the argument. I didn’t mean to let things escalate to that level.”

“If you’re referring to my reaction I’m already over it. You weren't the one who created that response so no need to blame yourself for it.”

“It shouldn’t be like that though y/n! That shouldn’t have to be your normal but I should have known better, as you said, especially after seeing how you act around your family. But more than that I never stopped to really consider your feelings in all of this and acted so selfishly.”

“Well thanks for the apology then. I’ve already served my purpose though, right? You’ve started to move forward so I can just-”

“Y/n why are you doing that? I mean… I can’t ask you to forgive everything and go back to how things were but you aren’t even-”

“Jeongin. I have to be distant. The more you’re around me the more I see what I can’t have and I can’t put my heart through that anymore, I just like you far too much to stay friends…”

My feelings spilled out before my mind could process them but it was honest. This feeling for Jeongin is so intense it sent me into a pattern I only fell into once before because of my brother. It's selfish but there is no going back to friends right now with my feelings as they are… not unless through some miracle that throughout all his changing, his feelings for me changed as well.

#stray kids #stray kids imagines #stray kids au #skz #skz imagines #skz au #yang jeongin #jeongin imagines #jeongin au #server! jeongin x regular! y/n #my writing #wslwe?

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velkynkarma · 4 years

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So I’m suuuper late to the party, but I finally, finally finished Rhythm of War.

I am delighted by it. Thoughts and reactions under the cut, just in case for spoilers.

OKAY SO I had a lot of feelings about this book, and I wanted to be able to sit down and read the book properly and devote time to it, instead of sneaking paragraphs here or there during work breaks. So that’s why it took me so long to read it. In a way I feel like a terrible fan for taking so long when I was so excited about reading it for over a year, but in another way I am satisfied that I did it justice.

General thoughts/reactions:

I am legitimately impressed with how well Sanderson handled Shallan’s Dissociative Identity Disorder. DID is one of those mental illnesses that gets butchered so hard in media, and carries such a stigma of being “evil” or “creepy.” But Shallan’s representation seems much more factual in terms of how we know DID works today, including but not limited to:

Created from a severe trauma at a very young age, in which the brain starts splitting itself in order to protect against traumas and form survival mechanisms

Alters exist to protect the system and handle tasks for the host that the host cannot handle. Both Veil and Radiant handle tasks/functions that Shallan can’t

Also establishing that different alters can have different skills (such as Shallan being good at drawing and Lightweaving while Veil is bad at it, or Radiant handling espionage poorly)

Establishing that actual DID treatments do include encouraging alters to learn to work together and establish communication lines between each other. I like that the three create a pact to work together and rules to stand by and enforce them on each other to the best of their ability. They mess up sometimes (Radiant killing Ialai, Veil forcibly taking over sometimes). But they try.

But also establishing that prior to Shallan’s realization of what was happening at the end of Oathbringer, each of these alters had their own memories and ways of handling things and did not necessarily communicate with each other

Establishing that multiple times in prior books when Shallan thought she was ‘acting’ she was actually Blending with another identity, either Veil or Radiant. This becomes more apparent when Veil or Radiant actively discuss being the ones to do things that were previously from “Shallan’s” perspective (such as Veil learning slight of hand/etc at the beginning of Words of Radiance). This stuck out to me as especially interesting since accounts of people with DID often mention not knowing they have it or are switching for years, but being semi-aware of doing things differently than normal.

Veil being a protector-type alter and a trauma holder is extraordinarily common in DID cases and made an absolute ton of sense. It also suggests that she’s been around for YEARS longer than before Shallan ‘created’ her which, again, is not uncommon with DID cases

Veil, at least, also acts like she’s much older than Shallan, even calling her things like ‘kid.’ While Veil is, of course, no older than Shallan, this is completely accurate that alters can have different ages and even different genders to the host body in terms of how they perceive themselves

Establishing that fusions/integrations are possible, with Veil being ‘absorbed’ by Shallan at the end. This is a part of DID treatment and I like that it was handled in a way where both alters consented and the trauma was released, but it was handled. Even if Veil developed additional skills over time, it’s clear her first and foremost job was as a trauma holder alter, and once the trauma was no longer being hidden, her ‘purpose’ was done. And now Veil is a part of Shallan, and the expectation is that somewhere down the line, Radiant will join too.

Very very VERY VERY importantly, establishing Shallan’s interaction with other characters as a system with DID in a way that did not make her look like she was ‘crazy.’ DID is super serious and systems are often stigmatized. But I adored that Adolin is supportive and treats each alter on their own playing field (and even seems to be able to recognize them without Shallan changing hair color). I love that other characters like Kaladin admit they don’t exactly get it, but do their best to be respectful of it anyway. I love that nobody treats Shallan like a freak and sticks her in a padded room, and that people DO respect her wishes and treat Veil and Radiant as equally viable people. I love that it’s treated so healthily.

Honestly my only real ‘hmm, not exactly like that’ moments were thinking back on how Shallan ‘created’ personalities. Veil being a trauma holder for Shallan’s old memories implies she’s been around for a long time, so she wasn’t really “created” in that sense, just given more of a face/name. But Radiant appears to have been created spur of the moment when Adolin was all ‘hey, let me teach you to swordfight!!!’ To the best of my knowledge people with DID don’t really have control over when they split, nor do they really get to actively ‘design’ their alters. It’s more like alters form as needed to handle something. But considering how accurate everything else is, and that possibly this is just Shallan’s way of handling her splitting in a way that makes sense to her, I’m willing to give this a cautious pass.

Also maybe lost memory moments. People with DID generally can lose time. Shallan doesn’t seem to, but then towards the end we also see she’s not a reliable narrator in her own right, since somehow Radiant managed to kill Ialai when we’re reading that passage. So it’s possible we the readers are missing things because Shallan is, too.

That said, the way DID works, it will never really go away even if Shallan does fully integrate. I’m curious if more alters could form down the line. I thought this had been happening with ‘Formless,’ but Formless didn’t turn out to be another alter so much. Oh well.

I had wondered about Shallan and Pattern’s bond for a while, and I’d been wondering if maybe she had a different spren ever since Pattern mentioned he could go away or she might kill him too back in...Oathbringer, I think it was? It seemed strange to me that Shallan wouldn’t have seen him around for a long time in his pattern form, or that she’d get chased by so many cryptics in book 1, if she’d been bonded to him this whole time. Or that she had a shardblade she could summon in book 1, but Pattern hadn’t been established as a character yet. And then when Adolin met a deadeye Cryptic in Shadesmar, I was like, ‘damn, that’s Shallan’s first spren isn’t it.’ And I was vindicated. I feel stupidly proud of myself for catching even one of Sanderson’s twists.

I think this is the first book in the series where Kaladin’s arc didn’t really grab me as much as the others to start. Not that it was bad, I still really enjoyed it, especially towards the end. But I was surprised to find when I got to Part Three and Kaladin’s name was listed but Adolin’s wasn’t that I went, ‘awww, damn,’ and used that as my break point for the night.

I think part of this is that so much of Kaladin’s story that I love and adore is about not just Kaladin, but Kaladin’s friends and found family arcs with Bridge Four, and so much of that was taken away from him in the early part of the story. Like Kaladin, I guess I was just sad about everyone moving on and him being along. Sigzil going off to be the new Windrunner leader, Rock leaving, Rlain leaving (for a while at least), Adolin and Shallan leaving...it was hard. I felt his depression. Unfortunately, it made it a bit difficult to read, I guess.

On the flip side though, Kaladin’s ending arc in the story was A+ and I loved it. I love that his Fourth Ideal is specifically accepting that he cannot save everyone, which is something he’s struggled with from his very first appearance in the very first book. I love how this sheds so much light on that moment in Oathbringer where Syl is calling for him to speak the words and he just can’t, because at the time, he wasn’t ready to accept that he couldn’t save everyone. I love that he admits to Dalinar that he really did need help and a chance to recover, and that his setup for the next book doesn’t seem to be as Stormblessed, the soldier, but as a healer. And I love that he made up with his dad in the end, and did manage to at least save him.

ROCK. NOOOO.

TEFT. NOOOOOO!

And yet as always, Sanderson books are the only books where I really feel...ok with character death. It’s sad, for sure, but also deaths have purpose in his stories. Nobody is killed meaninglessly.

I think my favorite arc was Adolin’s, throughout the whole course of the book? I can’t help it. I love my enthusiastic, optimistic himbo who is just doing his best. Every time he was like ‘well I’m useless since I’m not a Radiant, but I’ll do the best I can’ I was like NO, HONEY NO, YOU’RE SO IMPORTANT, DO YOU UNDERSTAND HOW IMPORTANT YOU ARE REALLY? Look at all the people you help!!! Just look at them all!!!

As stated earlier, I love that he’s just so damned supportive of Shallan’s condition. Even if they don’t have words for ‘DID’ in Roshar or even understand it in their own terms, he’s just so damn supportive. She tells him she’s got multiple alters and he’s just like ‘cool, how can I help.’ He loves his wife. He’s friendly with Radiant. He’ll share jabs with Veil. He just wants to help, always.

I love that he’s so supportive of Kaladin too. I adored towards the beginning, where Kaladin’s going into a depressive spiral, and Syl gets Adolin because Adolin is one of the few people he can’t intimidate. And I adore that Adolin is supportive, but in a way that shows he gets it. He knows it’s not safe to leave Kaladin alone with himself and refuses to let that happen. But he also doesn’t force him to participate and acknowledges that yeah, you can feel like shit, and that’s ok, but you’re gonna feel like shit around other people, because it’ll help you. And it does. And I love that a thousand pages later Kaladin starts going into another depressive spiral and happens to mention, ‘fuck, Adolin’s not here to pull me out this time,’ recognizing what Adolin can do. I just love how much their friendship has progressed.

I love that he’s still so supportive of his brother, even if Renarin was barely in this book. I love that he even briefly defends Renarin against Shallan, even when he recognizes she doesn’t really mean any harm.

I adore his continued arc with Maya. I love that he was so excited to go to Shadesmar so he could see her again. I love how he’s clearly had offers from spren or other Radiants to talk to spren about bonding to him, and he’s like, ‘nah,’ cause he’s loyal to her. I love how everyone keeps insisting ‘deadeyes can’t speak, deadeyes can’t feel’ and he’s just like, yes?? Yes they can??? Have you ever fucking tried??? I love that it’s his genuine connection to Maya that helps her recover enough to actually talk on her own with more clarity, and how she’s clearly coming back to herself. And what a revelation, that Maya and the others deliberately sacrificed themselves. And I love that ultimately it’s his bond with Maya that gives him success with the honorspren. He did this his own way, with his own skills, in a unique way that nobody else has ever done before, because maybe he’s not a Radiant in the shiny new sense of the word, but he’s the only person out there willing to treat his sword like a partner and show kindness to spren and that shows.

I also really do hope he works stuff out with his dad because he’s got every right to be angry but also, I want him to be happy :(

Ultimately I adore Adolin’s whole polarity, that he’s a masterful duelist and combatant, and has probably killed hundreds, and yet his best quality is his sheer kindness. He has really grown on me as a character since book one, honestly. I remember not liking him in book one. I still don’t, when I reread it! But in the rest, he’s probably second only to Kaladin as my favorite.

Venli. I remember not really liking Venli in earlier books. I thought Eshonai was cool, but Venli I remember just not really vibing with. Seeing her story really made her a lot more interesting to me though, especially since I love her whole gradual growth as a character. Openly admitting to herself that she’s a coward and just wanted to get attention against her sister...and then doing something about it to better herself. Doubting her abilities to do so and being uneasy about it the whole time, but ultimately doing it anyway. She’s a flawed character, but she’s a good character, and I grew to like her so much more after seeing her story.

Also, I loved Eshonai’s mercy at the end there. Fuckin yes. Bittersweet smiles all around.

Szeth-son-son-Vallano wore white on the day he was to kill a king, because apparently white is the listener battle color, it makes SENSE now

I am also veeery curious what is going on with Szeth, who wasn’t really in this book all that much. And I’m curious if ‘Sixteen’ in Lasting Integrity is actually his dad, because they sure drew attention to a hiding Shin man and then immediately never mentioned him again.

Raboniel. MAN. What a fucking character. I was fascinated with her from the beginning. I never knew exactly what to think of her, because we see her from so many perspectives. Leshwi, who has been established as possibly the ‘goodest’ and most sane of the Fused, openly tells us not to trust her. We learn she’s done terrible things in her lifetime, like trying to create a plague to destroy all of humanity, and one of her titles is just straight-up scary af. She learns how to really, truly, actually kill spren, which is terrifying. She tried to kill the Sibling, which is obviously Super Bad. And yet, she’s such a compelling character. She’s polite and reasonable, to a degree. Clever and enormously genre-savvy, but also blunt and to the point, knowing full well Venli is being used to spy on her and Navani is working against her and blatantly stating so. She’s so intelligent, and is willing to both respect Navani and work with her to create things together, and recognize her worth. I never fully trusted her at any point, because we know she’s done so much to be scared of, but man, I enjoyed reading her segments so freaking much. I was sad when she died, and her weird frenemy relationship with Navani was really intriguing.

I really enjoyed Dabbid’s little segments. I’m so happy he’s comfortable talking around the others. I’m also happy to see Sanderson delving into including more autistic characters in different points on the spectrum, while also showing other people treating them well.

Taravangian. I still don’t know where to stand on this guy and I’m very nervous now that he’s basically a god and apparently smart enough to outwit everyone else again. I was excited when he actually managed to kill Rayse but fuck, we might have been better off with Rayse.

SOMEBODY ACTUALLY MANAGAGED TO OUTWIT HOID AND I’M SCARED AF AT WHAT THAT MEANS

Moash. I just. Fuck. I don’t even know. I’m not even sure if this counts as him killing under his own power or not. He doesn’t really want to take responsibility for his actions, and as long as Odium takes his pain and feelings, he doesn’t have to. But that moment when he wasn’t protected, he seemed upset with what he had done. So I really have no damned clue where his story is gonna go. But fuck, it’s scary how easily he almost undid Kaladin completely. He knew exactly what buttons to press. We’re lucky the Pursuer ignored him and attacked anyway, or he really would’ve won.

I’ll admit, my Cosmere knowledge is less than stellar, so I’m still not entirely sure I understand the stuff with the Heralds and Mraize. But I am definitely curious to see where it’s going on a surface level, at least.

LIFT USES LIFELIGHT that explains a lot. I wish she’d been in this story more because I adore her lol.

I know Sanderson announced Ace Jasnah a while back, but I love that it’s been so firmly established in the book itself. No beating around the bush or leaving people to wonder. She just straight-up says she’s got no real interest in sexual stuff and never really got how it drove others. I love it. I love seeing that so honestly and bluntly stated.

Anyway I’m sure there’s a lot more to be said but overall, A++++ as always, super adored, next one when????

#Velkynkarma rambles #Stormlight Archive #Rhythm of War spoilers

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soyeahitsmiddleearth · 5 years

Text

Dimension Jumping pt. 1

The Fellowship of the Ring x Reader

But a lot of the stories are about the reader falling into Middle Earth…. what about the other way around? If you wanted to do all the characters, you could do a point after they left Rivendell, before they split up?

Like for example, after Gandalf ‘dies’, and it could be something sweet and cute or whatnot where the reader helps them grieve a bit, give them a bit of a rest before continuing on their journey?

—

Weekends have always been your favorite time of the week.

No responsibilities, sleeping in, more time, freedom, the list goes on and on.

Your weekends are usually spent idly doing things you enjoy, like sleeping, and lot’s of stress free activities.

Not this weekend though, for when you got home after a grocery run, you were met with quite the surprise.

A total of 8… people? lay strewn about in your living room seemingly unconscious. They are dressed in odd clothes, holding medieval looking weapons, and they look rather raggedy and dirty. Four of them are extremely small, and if it weren’t for their older looking faces, you would’ve thought them to be children. There’s also a handsome blond with pointy ears, a short red headed, bearded… man, and two semi-regular looking tall dudes.

Your groceries fall from your arms and land on your carpeted floor, but you barely pay that any mind since you can’t seem to tear your eyes away from the pile of people in the middle of your damn living room.

Your floofy white dog Penny is sniffing around them, but she doesn’t seem to be alarmed nor agitated by their presence, so that’s good at least. She’s an excellent judge of character after all. Eventually she settles down next to the tall guy with dark brown hair, and though you don’t like that she’s next to these strangers, you allow it.

The sound of your things falling to the ground seems to rouse them, and you watch as the man wearing dark clothing with dark hair opens his eyes and groans quietly. At first his eyes scan around the room, then they fall upon you.

He sits up slowly, still eyeing you as he glances down at his small child-looking friends. A look of relief passes his expression before he looks at you once more, saying nothing while the rest of his merry band of crazies begin to sit up.

This is supposed to be your fucking day off, and this shit happens? A bunch of renaissance weirdos laying in your house, making your clean carpet dirty.

“You know what, no.” You state loudly, successfully startling the dark haired man, “This is my weekend off, and I am not dealing with this. Whatever this is."

You turn on your heel and begin picking up your groceries, though you remain vigilant incase one of them intends to try something.

Once you’ve gathered all your discarded things you stand again and look behind you, seeing that most of them are on their feet and looking at you and your home as if you’re some alien in a structure unknown to them. You quickly look forward again and go to your kitchen, placing everything on your counters while you try to decide how the hell you’re going to deal with this.

You look over your counter at the still staring people and ask slowly, "Does… anyone want a snack?”

Two of the small blonde men perk up when you say ‘snack’, so you take that as a yes and begin preparing apples, celery, and peanut butter for everyone to eat.

By the time you’re done cutting up the apples you’ve only got two left, but you just sigh and bring out a tray with the snack and place it on the coffee table.

The two blond… boys? run over to it immediately, but are halted by a sharp “No.” from the brown-haired guy.

Said brown-haired guy is looking at you distrustfully, and you feel your blood begin to boil with his distrust (even though HE is in YOU home).

“Okay dude, I get you don’t know me or whatever but you guys literally broke into my house, so if anyone is supposed to be cautious here it’s me. M. E. Me. I’m offering your… children…? Adult babies? Boys? Food, and damnit if they want it then they’re gonna eat it.” Your little outburst gets you several shocked looks, but you’re so FUCKING tired, you’ve just got no energy to deal with this.

“We 'broke into your house’?” He repeats slowly, “I have no recollection of our relocation to your… house, and I’ve never seen someone of your caliber, nor a place so… odd, before. So forgive me if I am skeptical of our suspiciously willing host.” His voice is dripping with sarcasm, and it successfully ruffles your self control.

“Now you listen here Mr. Broody, I’m not about to get sass in my own home. By god if Penny didn’t seem to love you so much I would vaporize you where you stand!” Big talk for such a small person, yes, but you stand by your statement.

Only you don’t get the reaction you were expecting, because suddenly everyone looks horrified.

“You can do that?” One of the small blond boys(?) gasps, scooting closer to his look-alike.

The guy you were mouthing off to grabs the hilt of his -is that a fucking sword?!- weapon and steps in front of the small guys. The tall blond dude, other actual human, and short ginger haired man do the same, and suddenly you feel a lot less satisfied.

“Woah there fellas, It’s a figure of speech!” You say quickly, raising your hands in a surrender motion.

Penny senses your sudden distress, so she bounds over to you and presses her nose against your knee in a way meant to gather your attention. You glance down at her and visibly relax before looking back up at the still tense men in front of you.

“Tough crowd…” You reach down slowly and pat Penny’s head, watching as their eyes follow your movements. “Okay, look. I’m not going to like, poison you or whatever you’re afraid of. How about we start with introductions, hm?"

The same guy from before nods his head slowly (it seems he’s the leader here) and tells you a little hesitantly, "I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn. A Ranger, also known as Strider by most."

What in the ever loving hell did he just say?

You can’t even stop the laughter from bellowing out of you, because this is just so god damn ridiculous and completely baffling. You grasp your stomach and double over with laughter while everyone else just watches silently and confusedly.

Eventually your laughter begins to subside when your sides start to hurt, so you stand up a bit straighter and wipe a tear from the corner of your eye, "Ahaha, ah… wow that’s good. But really though, I’m not looking for stage names bud, I’m being serious here.”

This 'Aragorn’ doesn’t seem to find it as funny as you do. “Stage names? No, I believe you are misunderstanding.”

The smile on your face drops and you suddenly don’t find it as funny either. “So… your name is actually Aragorn then?” Well, maybe not all of them have weird names, “Right, then what about the rest of you?"

The other guy who looks like an actual human speaks up next, "I am Boromir, son of Denethor and Captain of Gondor.” Oh heck.

Blondie comes up next, “I am Legolas from the woodland realm.”

Shortie #1, “Gimli Son of Gloin."

The small dark haired man child comes forward, "I am Frodo Baggins, and these are my friends Samwise Gamgee, Peregrin Took, and Meriadoc Brandybuck."

"What the-” you pause and cover Penny’s ears, “Fuck is all of this?"

It seems your actions amuse the taller dudes because their stand-offish demeanors diminish as they seem to deem you harmless (I mean who covers their dogs ears when cursing? Clearly you��re pathetic).

"I’m afraid I don’t know what to tell you.” Mr. Aragorn states.

“Well, start with where you come from, maybe?”

They all share a look before 'Legolas’ states, “We come from Middle Earth and have just traveled through the Mines of Moria."

You literally don’t know what any of that means.

"Well, alright. Right now, I can tell you that you’re on Regular Earth and in my living room.” You don’t mean to be so sarcastic, but both the functional and rational parts of your brain are failing you big time, “Do you know how you got here?"

You get 8 respective no’s, and while you expected that, it’s no less frustrating. "Shoulda seen that one coming, I guess."

The Gimli character looks you up and down and asks in his gruff voice, "And what about you, you’ve not told us who you are."

"Oh, right, my bad. I’m Y/N, and this cutie,” you reach down and pick up Penny’s front paws from the ground and wave them at the group, “Is Penny. She is the softest, sweetest, and cutest doggo you will ever have the pleasure of meeting. Disrespect her and there will be consequences."

You stand back up and pat Penny’s head, watching as they all nod their understanding and appear rather nervous suddenly.

"That was also a joke.”

Most of them relax.

You tap your foot a few times and seem to think over your options, looking away from them and out the window.

Clearly there is something very wrong going on here, so you can’t just throw them out, but at the same time you don’t have enough energy to deal with this today. And there’s the very real possibility that they could be psychos. But there’s also the fact that they seem to be a little worse for wear, some of them have puffy eyes, and is that blood? Their disheveled and tired appearances tug at your heart strings, and you find yourself wanting to help them.

“Okay, against my better judgement I have decided that I’m going to welcome the lot of you into my house until we can figure out what the hell is going on here.” This seems to surprise Aragorn and his two tall besties. “I don’t know why… but something is telling me that I should help you out, so I guess that’s what I’m going to do.”

Two of the small blond ones smile brightly, but you haven’t finished yet.

“But!” Their smiles drop and everyone seems rather serious again, “If any of you try anything funny or start any trouble, I will kick all of you out. I don’t know any of you, and you all have weapons. So if I’m gonna let you stay then you’re going to have to behave.”

“Miss Y/N, you do not have to-” Aragorn begins, but you put up your hand and shake your head.

“It’s fine. Just please don’t break anything, and if Penny wants head pats you had better give them to her."

It seems your rules are fair enough, because you get 8 more head nods.

The two small people attack the snack you made finally, and you find that you can’t help but to laugh a bit.

A thought then strikes you, "Oh!"

Everything pauses and every looks at you again, more alert, but you just roll your eyes at how on edge they are.

"I was just going to say that I have two bathrooms is anyone wants to wash up.”

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kinetic-elaboration · 4 years

Text

March 15: Thoughts on Fandom

Not feeling too well this evening but hopefully a good night's sleep will make me feel better and tomorrow will be low key and chill. And my hot water will be fixed successfully.

I was thinking today about how I've felt for a long time that I'm 'between fandoms' even though technically, literally, I'm not. I continue to write and read for The 100 but I don't entirely feel like I'm in the fandom. Sometimes I think I should just leave officially, but then I think--but to go where? And "Star Trek" seems both an obvious and an incorrect answer. It's like I'm not truly invested anywhere, but in a sort of limbo-like space.

Anyway, so I broke it down like this.

I want 3 three things from "fandom," broadly speaking:

1. To engage with media that I really love.

Examples: waiting for new installments (for ongoing media); rewatching or rereading; obsessing over how great the characters or stories are, dissecting plot lines and themes.

2. To engage with a fan community that also loves the media I love.

Examples: reading fanfiction; reading meta; engaging in online discussions; reading other people's excited posts; following blogs relating to the media in question; reblogging gifsets/graphics/fan art

3. To engage creatively with the source material through transformative works.

Example: writing fanfiction.

Ideally, I'd have one piece of media that fulfills all of these purposes. That was T100 for me for a while. But then I stopped watching the show in late S4, and got farther and farther away from the 'current' fandom. And then the show ended, and on such a sour note, so that the fandom itself, the fan community, started changing. And at the same time, I started getting seriously back into Star Trek again.

So now I'm in this place, where I'm still at least kind of engaged in all three aspects of the fandom experience, but not in a unified way.

Star Trek is fulfilling the first purpose of fandom for me, right now. I'm loving rewatching TOS, and the AOS movies too, and I just have a lot of Emotions about the characters and universe. It's that good kinda excitement that a show (or book or movie or whatever) that you really love always gives. Like--ahh!!! I cannot feel anything else but just happiness because I love this so much!

BUT I'm not engaging with ST in either the second or third sense of fandom. I follow a couple ST blogs but there aren't many truly active TOS/AOS centric blogs out there right now. I don't read any ST fanfic because, well, first of all I never really did, and second, I'm far enough behind on my T100 fic! And I have rl people like my mom and B to talk about it with, but not really anyone on tumblr or wherever who's into it like I am.

And though I've vaguely plotted and poked at some fic ideas, I haven't done any real ST writing in a long time--again because I have ideas for T100 that I need/want to get to first, and I'm not writing so much anyway now in general.

On the other hand, T100 is definitely NOT fulfilling function (1) for me and hasn't in a long time. When I stopped watching the show, I still engaged with the canon a little. I watched other people get excited or debate or discuss. I noticed the patterns of fandom as the show went into and out of hiatus. Plus, I still enjoyed the early seasons and liked early-canon and canon-divergent fics (reading and planning/writing). But even that is largely fading for me. I've been trying to rewatch the show but it's not really doing anything for me... I have a hard time getting into it. The canon-divergent fics I'm writing for the collab are not interesting me in the least, either.

I realized today that most of my fic ideas, or at least most of the fic ideas I really care about in any way, are so far removed from the canon they might as well be original fiction with some familiar names thrown in. The one exception is the Ark AU, but everything else is some form of extreme AU, modern or otherwise. I don't even know that the characters make me feel much of anything anymore. I've been toying with how to explain this for a while but... I feel like both for me personally and the fandom as I perceive it, the characters are more like a shared vocabulary, rather than actual characters from a source material we all love. I think this is partially because the fandom is old enough now to have some very long standing shared headcanons, and either small enough or bifurcated enough for fanwork creators to influence each other more than the canon influences them, and partly because the show ending on a sour note for most viewers has left the people who remain in the fandom with a sense that these characters are OURS and that the value of them is in how we collectively decide to use them now, rather than in how they are tied to the universally derided source material.

I'm not saying any of this is BAD, I'm just saying, that's how it is now, from my perspective.

I'm sort of engaging with the fan community (2) through T100, but... it's a little weird. I have people I legitimately like and enjoy talking to on tumblr who I know through T100 and of course there are events like Troped that I really love. I have a ton of cool fic bookmarked too and I'm getting back into reading it. But my dash has a lot less T100 content than it used to and sometimes I'll find myself j-ing very fast through it because I'm just not in the mood. I know a lot of people are either semi-disengaging, like I am, or wholesale moving on to other things. So it's like... the community straggles on, but it's uncertain at best.

And as far as engaging creatively (3)--to the extent that I write or plan fic it's almost all T100. But I haven't... I haven't been finding it easy to write. In general. This is a little hard to explain but.. when I think "I need to leave T100 fandom and really force myself to go somewhere else" it's usually because I feel like I'm not really getting what I need creatively out of the fandom. I like a lot of my wips and unstarted ideas, in theory at least, but the closer I look at some of them the more... herculean the task of actually writing them starts to seem. And tbh I rarely just... tell myself little stories about these characters or within these potential-fic scenarios. Like in all my idle, free thought time--when I'm washing dishes or taking a walk or a shower or going to sleep, when I want to think about something nice and fictional and not let the worries in... when I'm really engaged with a fandom, I'll imagine little scenes and tell myself little stories during these times. Sometimes they're scenes I want to eventually make into or include in a fic. Other times they're not. But they're still an extension of my creative life.

And I haven't really done that for T100 in a while. Sometimes I imagine Star Trek scenarios. Sometimes I retreat into highly silly comfort scenarios with original characters. But I only think about T100 when I specifically need to brainstorm for a fic. And that makes the fic feel more like work. And that makes me want to do it less.

So... I'm not sure what that will mean for me getting back into my projects when I finally (FINALLY) finish the last of my obligations. Maybe when I feel like I can actually make progress on old wips or ideas I care about, I'll get more invested in them. I was pretty damn invested in Mountain Lion Mean and that wasn't that long ago, so it is still possible. But overall, T100 definitely doesn't have, and probably never will have again, a total monopoly on my brain the way it did c.2016.

Which is fine. Like... it's more than fine. I've been here a while. What I'm trying to articulate to myself with all this is that the dissatisfaction I feel with my fandom life is probably stemming from the lack of one, coherent obsession. I have stuff to read, stuff to write, stuff to think about, stuff to talk about, and even a small fandom community of people I like--so what's the problem, right?? It's because it's not all coming from the same piece of media and that's not as clear and coherent and nice for me.

Plus, it makes writing more difficult when I do want to write these particular ideas, but I'm only motivated by own desire to see the ideas realized, not my genuine love for the characters and the material from which they derive. There's a certain energy that fannish activity has... but T100 fic barely feels like a fannish activity to me rn. Just another type of work. It's a work I'm invested in...but I just so often don't have it in me to WORK at all, is the thing.

So that's the biggest annoyance about it. I haven't really experienced this before so even though this situation has been forming for a while, I still don't really know what to do with it.

#the year 2021 #2021: fandom thoughts #honestly i'm really proud of myself for articulating all of this #fandom

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royallyprincesslilly · 5 years

Text

Title: Anatomy 101***

Chris Evans AU x Reader One Shot

Warning: SMUTTY, SMUT, SMUT, NSFW, cursing, choking, slightly older man/college student

Word Count: 5.6k

Note: Sooo, at this point, I’m just going to stop apologizing and giving summaries. I think everyone just expects me to be one of those writers who just have fifty-‘leven open WIP

**Loosely edited**

**Loosely Proofread**

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

"Uuugh!"

You slammed your palm down on the alarm clock. Its annoying blaring was really grinding your nerves especially given the fact that you hadn't gotten much sleep because you decided to go to the frat party last night and didn't get in until nearly four in the morning. You looked at the clock and grimaced seeing it read eleven.

Why the fuck did I take this class? Yes it was a core class, but you didn't have to take it this early, you could have taken it in the fall, but you had the bright idea of doing it in the spring. Groaning again you rose off the bed and sat at the edge. Hating yourself some more for your asinine decision you dragged your feet to gather your bath supplies so you could get a quick shower. You walked through the hall with your eyes closed; muscle memory was carrying you. Not caring what was going on around you, you walked into the shower room, stripped and stepped into the hot stream of water. This was precisely what you needed, not only were you a little hungover, but you were also half asleep. Usually, you wouldn’t want to get your hair wet this close to class because then you'd have to battle with it to get it straight and the process took entirely too long, but now you didn't care at all. The water beamed down on your scalp, and you sighed thoroughly enjoying it.

By the time you made it back to your room, you had less than thirty minutes to get dressed and make it across campus to your Anatomy and Physiology class. Doing your best to hurry, you picked something cute but not too cute. It was after all an 11 am class, and the professor was a boring old man who lost your attention the minute he uttered his first word. That was bad; you needed this class not only for your degree but your career. How could you become a clinical physiologist if you didn't understand the essential functions of the human physiology? You couldn't, plain and simple. You needed to find a way to get your head in the game or else you'd be done for.

Hearing the campus clock striking eleven, you rounded the corner and ran down the steps into the health sciences building where your class was held. You gripped your heels tightly in your hands. You regretted the choice as soon as you stepped out your dorm and saw you had eight minutes to get across campus. On an average day walking, it took at least twelve to get to class. You panted and bumped into a group of students standing around talking.

"Hey, watch it!"

"You watch it. This is an education facility talk outside idiot!"

Not bothering to go back and forth you ran up the flight of stairs and down the hall to the class door and flung yourself inside.

"And that is why and how the cardiovascular system is easily the most important system in the body."

Everyone looked at you. Ignoring the eyes, you hurried up the steps and to one of the many seats. There were only fifteen people in this class because everyone else was smarter than your dumb ass. You made it to the fourth row back and took the closest seat. Your heart was pounding in your ears as you tried to catch your breath. You closed your eyes and held your head back, thinking it was way too early for this shit.

"Is everything all right Ms--Y/N?"

Your head snapped forward and landed on the man standing in front of the room, half perched on the desk.

"Holy shit you're gorgeous!"

The snickers that rang out around you alerted you that your censor had failed you yet again. You pinched your lips together and closed your eyes; embarrassment filled you.

"I mean--uh, yes everything is fine," you corrected and dug into your bag to retrieve your notebook and other supplies.

"Thank you for the compliment, much appreciated," he said as he rose from the desk and walked around it, giving you the first view of his perfect ass. Your jaw dropped as you gawked. This was not your professor. This man was nowhere close to being your professor. Everything about him was the opposite. He was taller easily reaching 6'3, his eyes looked to be blue from here while your professor's could have been green, or brow, or green, hell you didn't know. This man before you was built like he spent two hours in the gym a day and didn't take any days off and his ass looked like you could bounce a quarter, a nickel, a dime, and a penny of it and it would bounce off and create ninety-five cents, he had a magical ass, a magically luscious ass. He turned around, and your eyes widened as they zeroed in at the crotch of his pants. You could see a subtle bulge, a bulge of a man who was packing a semi-automatic but that said semi-automatic was asleep.

"Eh-eh-eh-em!"

Shaking your head at the unexpected loud sound, you looked up to see him looking at you. You'd been caught. You averted your eyes and flipped to an open page in your notebook and began taking notes. Thinking to yourself that no man let alone an academic professor should be this fine, you took a few calming breaths and did your best to listen to the lecture. You found yourself getting lost in him because not only was he gorgeous he was smart, those two put together made him the sexiest man you’d seen on this campus. Before long, you found yourself having little daydreams as he spoke. You fantasized about his big hands squeezing your ass, his lips tasting yours, his thighs resting on either side of your cheeks as you took every inch he had to offer. In a matter of minutes, you were wet and getting quite hot and bothered.

An hour and forty-five minutes into your two-hour class, he placed the chalk down and walked to the front of the desk where he leaned against it. His thighs pressed together, and you wondered what it would be like to sit across his lap. You looked around and noticed for the first time the entire class was females. You wondered if they’d known sexy, blue eyes and dreamy would be here. When you looked ahead there, he was standing in front of you down at the front of the class. It was so unexpected you jumped and sank back into your seat. It was then you saw a sly smirk spread across his face.

“Ms. Y/N.”

You raised an eyebrow to him, giving him more of your attention, even though he’d had it this entire time.

“True or false, Dopamine is the human body’s pleasure chemical.”

You thought about it vaguely remembering him talk about pleasure. Truth be told once he began talking about pleasure you zoned out and thought about just that—him giving you pleasure.

“Eh-em, well dopamine is made in the brain, and the brain is responsible for most if not all the chemicals the body produces and distributes. So with that being said; true.”

He smirked and licked his lips slowly. “What are the body’s connection and relationship with the pleasure center? How does let’s say the first signal or spark begin all the way to completion?”

You knew this; you’d read in the text and studied it for an upcoming quiz. Right now, though, you were drawing a blank. As you looked at him you knew he knew you had nothing. How the hell could you think with him looking at you? It was as if his eyes were boring into you, stripping away everything you used as a shield, defense mechanisms, walls, clothes, shit you felt bare underneath his intense gaze.

“Okay, seems you might need another way to grasp the material. Come on down,” he said. You didn’t move, you looked around the room, and no one looked as if they thought this was strange. When you looked back to him, he walked back to his desk.

“I won’t repeat it.” The authority in his voice had you shooting up involuntarily. You looked around again and the girl nearest you rose her eyebrows as if to say you were in trouble. Were you in trouble, you thought? You closed your notebook and slipped your feet into your heels before you descended the stairs to make it to the desk he was now leaning against. You stopped a few feet from him and clasped your hands behind your back. His eyes dropped to your breasts, and his teeth scraped over the skin of his bottom lip. Surprise ran through you. There’s no way your professor just checked out your boobs, you thought to yourself. This was wishful thinking. You shook your head and shook the idea away.

“Do you normally struggle in this class?”

“Um, no.”

“Professor Evans. That is my name, and that is what you’ll call me,” he filled in with authority. This time you felt the butterflies in your stomach. You swallowed a little more loudly than intended and took a breath.

“No Professor Evans.”

“So it’s just today with me you seem to be a less than sample student?”

“How--.”

“You showed up ten minutes late when everyone else managed to make it on time. You were barefoot when you came in and since you’ve barely listened to a word I’ve said. So, I ask again; is it just with me you’re not the sample student?”

Speechless you looked around the room again and crossed your leg over the other. For some reason, your nether regions were tingling. There was no way this was turning you on, you thought.

“I guess it’s just with you—Professor Evans.”

He nodded, stood up straight, and walked to you never taking his eyes off yours. You lost all breath in your lungs; you couldn’t even think, his eyes pinned you where you stood. You bit your bottom lip; his eyes fell to them before he disappeared behind you. Without your eyes, you still knew he was directly behind you.

“And why is that Ms. Y/L/N?”

“I don’t know.”

“Class give me a brief physiology of lying, spot a liar. Go!”

The girl you sat close to shot her hand up first then spoke.

“When someone lies, Catecholamines are released in the body. these are the hormones that spawn from stress, which is what the body is put under when it lies, professor Evans.”

“Good. Anyone else?” More hands shot into the air, and he called on another student.

“The body then has tells, fidgeting, sweating, and subtle voice fluctuations to begin professor Evans.”

You rolled your eyes; these bitches were looking for an A++ today.

“Good. Now Ms. Y/N, which one of those tells do you think I registered with you just now?”

You bit your tongue; this was getting a little humiliating, and you didn’t like it.

“You tell me, Professor Evans, you’re the one between us with an actual degree on the subject. Enlighten me, pretty please.”

Once the words were out, he looked to you, his lips smiled, but his eyes darkened from a celestial blue to an almost the shade of blue denim jeans. The transition took your breath away, and you released a gasp, one that was inconspicuous to the rest of the class but somehow you knew he’d heard it. The edges of his lips turned up into an almost sinister smirk, one that made your stomach fall partially from dread and fear, but also from excitement and anticipation.

“Be seated Ms. Y/N.”

On wobbly legs, you hurried back to your seat and did your best to compose yourself. He continued to lecture, but his eyes never landed on your again. He went on as if you were invisible. You weren’t sure how you felt about that. On the one hand, you were relieved not to be under the intense scrutiny of his stare, but you wanted him to look at you, you wanted it more than almost anything. For the remainder of the class, you didn’t pay attention to one word he said. You just watched him move. The way his trim legs moved and how his ass looked as it was perched atop the desk made your hands itch to touch. The way his lips moved to form speech and the way his tongue tipped out every so often to wet his lips made your mouth water and long to taste his. You could barely contain the amount of arousal you felt. It definitely superseded anything you’d ever felt before. You wanted him, bad.

“Okay, so that is all for today, hopefully, you have a new understanding of the curriculum. Go on get outta here,” Professor Evans said.

Everyone got into motion gathering their belongings and exiting the room. You heard the girl that sat close to you speak under her breath.

“Goddamn, he’s fine.”

You smiled to yourself, and the two of you exchanged an all-knowing look that said the two of you understood the situation. When you grabbed your bag, you didn’t pay attention to how you took it up, and everything spilled out. You cursed to yourself, bent down, and retrieved the items. By the time you finished, it was just you in the class. You made your way to the door. When you turned the knob, it didn’t budge. It was locked. You tried it again and added some force, but still, it didn’t move.

“What the hell?” Looking around the room you realized you were alone, not even the professor was in sight.

“Hello?” No answer. You wiggled the doorknob again and kicked it when your frustration rose high.

“What did that door ever do to you?”

Spinning around you saw Professor Evans sitting in the front seat with his legs spread wide and arms crossed over his chest. Even like this, he still looked incredible.

“It’s locked, how did it get locked? I didn’t know these doors even locked from the inside.”

“Well, now, you do. I locked it.” He stood and walked closer to the desk. You felt an uneasy feeling in your chest, and a chill ran down your spine and crept around to settle in your belly. You felt as if you should feel fear and part of you did, but it didn’t grip your entire being.

“Wh—why would you lock it? What is this?”

“I thought you needed a little more—tutoring,” he said.”

“Excuse me?

“You know you’ve been watching me all morning, I doubt any of the material even made it in,” Professor Evans said.

Trying your best to keep a straight face and show no emotion or shock you clenched your jaw and held your chin high; “Ha, I was not watching you.”

“Do you prefer gawking? I saw you staring at my ass. I could almost hear all your dirty little thoughts.”

You wanted to die; you were so mortified. Not that he’d caught you clearly sexually objectifying him, but he had the balls to tell you. At the thought of him having balls your eyes involuntarily dropped to his crotch. You heard a breathy chuckle and snapped them back to his face. He smiled and shook his head.

“Have a seat.” You didn’t move. One, because you couldn’t believe what was happening and two, you were afraid of what was happening.

“Now, Ms. Y/L/N.”

Damn your need to please. You walked toward the front row of seats before you felt him grip your wrist. You looked to him with a questioning look.

“Not there. The desk.” Obeying, you changed courses and walked to the elevated podium where the desk was. Stepping up the two steps, you placed your belongings on the chair that held his things. Once you sat, you crossed your legs and looked to him. He stood a few feet away, just watching you. He didn’t move though. A full two minutes passed in silence, then he walked to you.

“Uncross your legs.” Feeling a little strange, you hesitated and searched his blue eyes. They were a bit darker than before but still gorgeous. You did as he asked and took a deep breath.

“The reading and assignment last week according to your previous professor’s notes state it was on the physiology and biology of lust, attraction, and attachment. Is that correct?”

You could feel the heat coming off his body though he wasn’t touching you. It made your body come alive. You nodded, unsure your voice worked. Without a word, he shot you a questioning glance, one that gave you the opportunity to rewind. You took a deep breath and swallowed the lump forming in your throat.

“Yes, Professor Evans.

“Let’s test your knowledge. What is the biology of attraction?”

You scanned your memory hoping you’d find even the smallest detail from the reading you did over four days ago. He was fucking with you. Who remembered their reading from so long ago, especially when they had other classes they had to read for too. His eyes never left yours; it was as if he were trying to intimidate you or make you mess up. You began to wonder if he wanted you to mess up. He smiled as if reading your mind.

“Ms. Y/L/N. Tick, tock goes the clock.”

“Attraction is just a mix of chemicals in your body working together to fire off a response to the brain.”

“What chemicals?”

“Dopamine, norepinephrine, and serotonin,” you filled in.

“What effect does each of those have?”

“Norepinephrine is the chemical that makes one giddy, energetic, and euphoric; it can even lead to decreased appetite and insomnia. Serotonin, a hormone that’s known to be involved in appetite and mood, a lot of studies have shown that serotonin may have a part to play in the intense infatuation that characterizes the beginning stages of love and attraction. Dopamine is the feel-good hormone. It’s released when we do things that feel good and have similar effects as Norepinephrine,” you finished.

You couldn’t tell what his expression was he was behind you. Suddenly you felt his heat near your ear.

“So it’s just with things I say you struggle with,” he whispered. God, his voice sounded so sexy, and on cue, your body responded. You felt the ache of your breasts your telltale sign they needed to be touched, the heat swirling in your belly and the slowly increasing pulsation between your legs.

“You forgot one other thing--,” Professor Evans took a deep inhale, one that broke you out in goosebumps.

“Pheromones. They are a huge tell-tale sign of attraction—I can smell you.”

You tried to stifle a moan, but you were unsuccessful. You knew he heard it. Soon he was standing before, you between your slightly spread thighs with his thighs grazing against your skin. He was hot—literally.

“Tell me about lust.” His voice was low and filled with something you couldn’t put your finger on. Something that spoke to the heat in your belly and traveling down between your thighs. Clenching your jaw, you took a steadying breath.

“Testosterone and Estrogen are the primary chemicals. Testosterone increases libido, and estrogen can also increase arousal.”

“What kind of arousal?” his voice was now gruff.

“Sexual,” you whispered.

He closed his eyes and sunk his teeth into his bottom lip.

“You smell—so damn good.”

You studied his face, went over every inch of his beauty. He had not one wrinkle. His beard was no doubt one of your weaknesses. You were always a sucker for a full beard and a nice ass; he had both. Your eyes traveled over him, but below his waist was obscured. You recognized the desire pumping through you. You didn’t expect to see his eyes open when yours returned to his face. You licked your lips, and his eyes remained there. When his lips crashed to yours, you hesitated and allowed him to expertly kiss you. His beard was soft against your face as were his lips.

You’d been kissed plenty of times before, but this kiss was different. This kiss wasn’t from a boy pretending to be a man as all the college guys you dated had been. This was a man in every form of the word, taking charge. You felt his hand at the small of your back before he pulled you to the edge of the desk, closer to his own body. You felt the protruding bulge in his pants as it connected with your pubis. Without thinking, you moaned and laced your hand in his hair and gripped the strands as he intensified the kiss.

In an instant, your back was flat against the desk, and he was hovered over you kissing you better than anyone ever had before. His tongue teased yours. Feeling your anxiousness rise you sunk your teeth into his bottom lip, his moan vibrated across your lips before he roughly pushed your thighs back to meet the desk. As he pulled back from your mouth, his eyes skimmed your body before they stopped at the junction of your thighs. You laid sprawled atop the desk with your hot pink thong on full display. His groan echoed throughout the empty room; then he moved his hand to your pelvis where it rested possessively for a second before he balled the dainty fabric and ripped it right off of you.

You flinched at the sudden action and the sting it produced on your skin. Professor Evans then slapped your sex, creating a wet sloshing sound. Your back arched and a moan escaped your lips.

“Do you know why you’re wet?”

You shook your head; you knew damn well why, but you sure as hell wasn’t going to say it. He smiled as he dropped down to eye level with your aching core.

“Your body is aroused by my pheromones, so much so that the dopamine in your system is increasing at a fast rate, one that is intoxicating you and bringing your body into hyperdrive. Tell me Ms. Y/L/N, is this the perfect example for lust?”

God, he was killing you. You didn’t care if this was lust or not all you knew was if he didn’t stop talking and show you what that mouth could do as he’d been teasing all class you’d combust. He dropped a kiss to your inner thigh, and you groaned. Your arms instinctively flew to his head hoping to pull his head to you, but he evaded you.

“I see someone is feeling anxious. Answer the question.” You still didn’t want to. You lowered your hand to your sex and rotated your fingers around your wetness. His eyes automatically dropped to watch you. He slowly licked his lips as he watched you. Two could play this game; if he wanted to tease you, you’d do the same. You slowly dipped one finger into your heat and gasped aching backward at the sudden pleasure that filled you.

“You’re so wet, show me.” You pulled your finger out to show him how they glistened underneath the florescent lights of the classroom. He examined your finger before his mouth engulfed it. He sucked your finger clean, ensuring to nibble and flick his tongue around it. God, he was a tease. As if sensing what you were thinking, he smiled before his mouth dropped to your sex and began pleasing you better than anyone had before.

Your hands flew to your breasts and squeezed, trying to maximize your pleasure. His tongue rhythmically flicked across your sensitive bud, and then he was sucking it into his mouth. The change of sensations sent your body into a state of heightened arousal, one you knew preceded an impending release. You couldn’t believe you were already there. It had barely been two minutes. He sped up the movements of his mouth, no doubt wanting to torpedo you into your orgasm. The heat in your belly furled out to every inch of you, and without warning, you whimpered, gripped his head ground yourself against his mouth. He didn’t let up; instead, he sucked your lips into his mouth before you felt his finger inside you. Arching up onto your elbows, you watched as he maneuvered two fingers in and out of your swollen heat. His lips were glistening with your wetness, wetness that looked to saturate his perfectly groomed beard.

“Fuck!”

He smiled and pulled his fingers from you then sucked them clean.

“Not quite yet. You’ve been biting those lips all morning,” he began as he stood before you. Your eyes dropped to his hands at his pants as he began undoing them. Once the buttons were undone, you saw peeks of grey cotton. He wasted no time pulling down his pants and underwear until his thick need flopped out and bobbed before you. Your jaw dropped at the sight of him. Yes, he carried himself with unmistakable big dick energy you somehow didn’t expect it actually to be big. It—was—big. You couldn’t tear your eyes from him. He stroked himself once, then twice until your teeth sunk into your bottom lip.

“I want to see them wrapped around me,” he finished. You shouldn’t have moved as fast as you did. You wasted no time sliding off the desk to drop to your knees before him. Once you were eye level with his need, you licked your lips way too anxious to have him. You gripped his girth and marveled that your hand couldn’t even fit around him fully. As you stroked him, you heard his breathing pick up. Tipping your tongue out to trail along the underside of his length, you ended at his smooth tip. Professor Evans groaned and widened his stance. Continuing your tease, you licked across his skin for a few more minutes until you slowly lowered your lips onto his scorching desire. Once your lips tightened around him more than halfway down, he hissed out and ended with an aggressive groan.

“Fuck, so good Y/N!”

You noticed he used your first name and it turned you on even more. Moving your mouth up and down his length, you decided it was not the time to be cute. It was time to enjoy yourself fully. You had been thinking about this all morning. You knew this was a once in a lifetime thing and decided to fully let yourself go. Speeding up your mouth you increased you suction as you neared his tip. Every time you did, he cursed and bucked forward, feeding you even more of his lengthy thickness. After a few minutes, his hands connected to the back of your head, and he began thrusting into your mouth. His hips sped up, and before you knew it, you were taking damn near all of him. Every time he thrust forward, you felt the tip of him slink past your tonsils. You had to stifle your gag reflex and take everything he offered. You refused to back down. His moans and grunts filled the room, and you were happy the door was locked to prevent anyone from walking in. Although, if anyone looked in the peek-a-boo window they’d see you on your knees with your spit dribbling from your chin as your professor face fucked you. You didn’t care; the danger of discovery only made you want him more.

Professor Evans pulled himself from your mouth with a loud groan and “pop,” “Face down on that desk, poke that perfect ass out for me.”

You did as you were told, ignoring the coldness of the glossy maple colored wood against your exposed skin. The anticipation was killing you, and it showed with the slight shiver of your body. You felt his hand connect with your backside and you moaned.

“I love the perfect jiggle of this ass,” he said before he slapped it again, and again. Each hit made you wetter and wetter. When you felt him rub himself against your opening, you flung your head back releasing your own grunt. You didn’t have to wait much longer before you felt him fully sink himself inside your needy channel.

“Fuck, yes!”

You felt his hand roughly grip your hips as he rocked his hips back and forth, building the friction and pace steadily stoking your desire. He felt so good, better than you’d ever remembered it feeling before. The heat from his skin scorched you from the inside out and heightened your pleasure. Professor Evans picked up his speed and plowed into you making sure that every time he connected with your body, he forcefully nudged forward stroking the swollen bundle of nerves.

“Shit, yes, yes.”

“You love this dick, don’t you Y/N? You love how it fills your needy little pussy!”

Your panting grew louder, and you tried to hold on to anything you could find, the only thing close enough was the edge of the desk. When his thrusts slowed down the force of which he slammed into you didn’t. Each bruising thrust only made your eyes lull to the back of your head more. You felt his body hover over your back and then his fingers reach around between your legs to caress your clit. You hissed at the sudden increase of pleasure and knew your release was seconds away.

“Oh my god, yes!”

“What’s my name?”

“Professor Evans! Yes, fuck this tight little pussy!”

“God damn right it’s tight. It’s been waiting for a real man to claim it,” he growled out as he increased his speed but added a slight swivel of his hips upon impact. The change of angle sent you over the edge.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck fuck! I’m coming!” With that, the dam broke, and you hit the desk over and over as you came long and hard all over him. Still, he didn’t stop or slow down, not his pounding increased to an incredible speed and force. You knew you were going to be sore tomorrow and possibly the day after that.

“Does this pussy love me?” you nodded wildly, not caring how thirsty you looked. You were parched and didn’t care if he knew it.

“This pussy loves you! Shit!”

You felt another orgasm build within you, your legs gave out, but he was there to hold you against him and the desk. His thrusts became sloppy, but they remained precise. He knew what he was doing, know how to handle a woman’s body, knew just how to make it do whatever he wanted. You felt his breath at your ear.

“Ready for this one? It’s going to be big. Say yes, Professor.” His hand around your throat barely squeezed, but it was enough to trigger your orgasm.

“Yes, Professor!” His grip tightened slightly, and his thrusts sped up. After one, then two and a third gut plunging thrust your second orgasm took over. You clenched around him and screeched through the intense pleasure. His hands slacked, and your body slid off the desk. He turned you to face him, and it was then you saw the unbridled need that darkened his eyes.

“Your knees,” he grunted out through clenched jaws. You obeyed and opened your mouth. This was not your first time. He quickly stroked himself, and while maintaining eye contact with you. It was so hot your hand crept between your legs to swirl around your still needy soaking clit. Your fingers moved as quickly as his hand did and when the first spurt of his come splashed the side of your mouth yet another orgasm coursed through you. You felt his come fill your mouth spurt after spurt. It barely registered over the brain-numbing pleasure you felt from your final release. He cursed and grunted to his heart’s delight before you wrapped your mouth around him again and milked him for every drop he had left.

After a few moments, he hissed again and released a small, vulnerable whimper before he slowly pulled himself from your mouth. You looked up to him and licked your lips of any excess before you teasingly bit your bottom lip. He smiled and shook his head as he began pulling his pants and underwear back in place. You slowly stood on shaky legs before you leaned against the desk. His eyes dropped to your hand and took it, placing your coated fingers in his mouth to clean them off. Just like that, the heat had been reignited. Staring into his eyes, you could tell he felt it too. His jaw clenched and unclenched before he stepped back from you.

“You’re free to go.” You heard the click of the locks signaling the end of your little tryst. You walked around the desk to your belongings and smoothed over your clothes before you walked to the door. You could feel his eyes boring holes into you as you walked. When your hand touched the doorknob, you heard him call your name. You glanced back at him to see him holding your torn and tattered thong in his hands.

“See you next class.” He moved the underwear to his nose and smelled. You wanted him again. You glanced down to his waist and saw the evident bulge in his pants and smiled to yourself. You weren’t the only one with an insatiable need. Turning you walked out the door savoring the delicious ache between your thighs. Maybe you would enjoy this class after all.

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#anatomy 101 fic #Chris Evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans x reader #Chris Evans X black reader #chris evans x you #chris evans smut #black fanfiction

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halorocks1214 · 5 years

Text

the law of equivalent exchange

AO3 Link

Word Count: 4182

Just like all my other plot bunnies, this got three times longer than I estimated. Whoopsies. At least I’m fairly proud of this. Another title for this fic could be ‘something that I would love to see happen in the finale but know it won’t so I’ll just write it myself instead.’ I was probably going to write this fic regardless, but @gumnut-logic‘s #FabFiveFeb just gave me one heck of a push to do so sooner than later. Hope you enjoy!

Warnings for The Hood being the creep he is and no-no words. There’s one F-bomb because I can’t seem to not have at least one.

“No! You can’t!”

Alan should probably be focusing on whatever the heck John was yelling at Scott for over the comms (let’s face it, Scooter, you haven’t been making the rashest decisions as of late), but he barely heard his older brother to begin with. With the blood rushing to his ears and his heart reverberating ten times faster than healthy throughout his entire body, all Alan could really focus on was trying not to pass out.

When his body decided to properly function, he tried reaching to turn his comms on as quickly as possible, but the figure he was praying to God to be a hallucination started talking, freezing Alan’s movements completely.

“Now then, Alan, let’s not be rash. I just want to talk. Is that so bad?”

Hand hovering over the button, Alan gulped down any fear he was wearing on his face to glare at The Hood directly in his eyes. If this was the stupid way he was going to go out, then he won’t be going out like a coward.

Against all of his training and judgment, Alan took his hand away from his comm and brought them calmly down to his sides. His whole stance was taut, and he at least hoped he looked more threatening than a lion cub play fighting with its siblings, “I don’t know, I would say it is considering who you are.”

The Hood chuckled, turning Alan’s stomach inside out. Alan just couldn’t understand this man. Ever. The way he slyly grinned as if he were some suave bachelor and not a creepy murderer. Alan tried desperately to cool the nausea in the pit of his gut as his family’s sworn enemy continued to speak, “As an honorable man even I have to admit defeat from time to time. You Tracys beat me fair and square, and the only way I caught up involved cheating. I was surprised I could sneak onto the ship as I did. Very well, Jeff Tracy is yours once again.”

Wait, what?

Alan blinked in shock before his brain caught up to him, making him bring back his glare, “There’s a catch here.”

The Hood raised his eyebrows at the way the boy spoke his words. It was not a question, no, the youngest Tracy stated them as if it were a matter of fact. The Hood’s smile grew wide, “You’re always quick on the uptake, Alan. Even if I lost this race, I did come out all this way. I can’t leave with nothing, not after all the time and effort I gave up. Surely, you understand that?”

Chills fled down Alan’s spine at the speed of the Zero-X. The gleam in The Hood’s eyes slowly morphed into hunger, like a starving lion about to make a move on an ill and weak zebra. Alan was pretty damn sure he wasn’t weak nor ill, and he didn’t feel like growing black and white stripes at the moment.

The Hood stood to his full height, “Have you ever heard of the saying “An Eye for an Eye”?”

Alan’s glare dropped off his face and went right back to the wide-eyed fear he had at the start, making him look a few years younger than he was. Screw looking fierce, he needed help. He needed his brothers.

Once again, he reached to get to his comms. Even if it were only one word, one second, one yelp of pain or fear, his brothers would realize something was wrong and come running. He hated it, occasionally, how he would always be seen as the baby, but if it meant getting home and away from this freak, then Alan was willing to be swaddled and rocked to sleep as much as his older brothers wanted.

However, that familiar cold voice spoke out once again, somehow stopping time itself in the process.

“Ah ah ah, Tracy, I thought I told you to be careful with that thing.”

Alan was breathing heavy, minute trembles beginning to show, “G-Give me one good reason I shouldn’t, you m-monster.”

The Hood’s grin turned playful as if what Alan wasn’t getting was supposed to be obvious, “Have you been listening to your brothers’ predicament at all?”

What did that mean?! Shaking his head, Alan, much to his displeasure, started to completely ignore The Hood so he could turn up his comms to listen. Crap, he forgot about why they were even out here! Why haven’t they finished the mission? Why haven’t they been able to find Dad? From the way The Hood was talking, Alan figured the older man was going to let the teenager writhe in agony as he listened to whatever he’d been missing.

Suddenly, a new, semi-unfamiliar voice boomed through Scott’s side of the comms.

“--head that way. If Johnny’s calculations are correct, it should be the path of least resistance.”

That was followed by a louder Scott responding with, “Yes, Father.”

Continued and ended with Virgil stating, “Lead the way, Dad.”

Alan blinked a few times again, the hand he was holding up over the comms suddenly very heavy and stuck in place. Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t find it in himself to contact his brothers for help. That was-- it was--

The Hood gleamed with anticipation at the recognition in Alan’s eyes, “If I can’t leave with anything, no one is. I’m positive you don’t want to be the one to ruin this for the rest of your family, do you?”

Ask Alan and he could very easily explain to you that his life could be broken into two parts. The parts had very simple descriptors too: With Dad and Without.

The Zero-X went up in flames before Alan was even ten-years-old, leaving a broken family and a confused child. A child that reacted like any other kid to losing a parent so young. He was sad and scared and for a while he just wanted his Dad to come back, even though his little mind knew it wasn’t possible.

But as the years went on, Alan got used to growing up without his dad in his life. Of course, the blonde missed him, and of course, he would do anything to get him back, but the sad fact of life was that Alan didn’t grow up with Jeff.

He grew up with his four older brothers and his grandma and Kayo and Brains and even Penny and Parker--

You catch what he was saying?

They tried to fill in the gap of a missing father with their own stab at being mock parents for the youngest Tracy. Alan suspected later in life that they did it in an attempt to fill their own gaps and heartbreak.

He would later start to think they failed at that latter objective as well.

That’s where the second part of his life came in to view. His brothers had many, many more years with their dad that they had to realize they would never have again. Scott was trained by Jeff with tips and tricks that nobody else in the Air Force knew. Jeff personally recommended John to the best of the best at NASA. Jeff took Virgil to meet one of the best mechanics in the world at the age of 12. Jeff was at every single one of Gordon’s swim meets to cheer him on.

Alan remembered being tucked into bed and pictures being hung up on the fridge and gold stars for eating his vegetables, and he was going to love getting that back, but he remembered Scott giving him piggybacks even more. John proofreading his papers even more. Virgil letting him sit on the piano bench while the older brother practiced more. Gordon teaching him how to dive into the deep end even more.

He also remembered Scott hiding a bottle of “adult juice” from Alan’s wandering eyes more than once, too many grey hairs for someone in their mid-twenties. He remembered how John was gone more and more, flinching at more and more hugs, only to be swallowed whole by the endless void that is space and Thunderbird 5, barely even being planetside for more than a fourth of the year.

Alan remembered how Virgil got quieter and quieter. Alan remembered the tap shoes, the musical scripts: they were currently collecting dust in the back of a random closet, shoved behind weight lifting gear and medical textbooks instead. And Gordon, his immediate older brother, his partner in crime... Alan wasn’t stupid. He knew Gordon dropped out of college and even the Olympics (after getting a freaking gold medal too!) to join WASP where he was nearly put in a goddamn chair.

Alan has been slowly watching his family barely try to hold it together, and it all started with dark laughter and a ball of fire over the ocean.

His brothers needed their father back, and no doubt Jeff wanted his sons back. Alan would hope he would want all of them too, but...

... After everything his brothers (and even Kayo and Brains and Grandma) have given up, surely Alan could give back, even if it’s just this one thing? Besides, Alan would hate himself forever if he was the reason they couldn’t complete their mission. He tends to feel that way on a failed missions anyway.

Yeah, right, the mission objective: get Dad back. Think of the mission, think of the mission. If that mantra was the only thing that was going to keep him convinced he was doing the right thing, then only he and The Hood would know.

Alan’s voice was breathy. It felt like if he spoke too loud the blood in his ears would make one final rush to try and bring him to la-la land, “... Do you promise?”

The Hood blinked and raised one eyebrow in a motion that spoke, ‘What did you just say? I wasn’t listening that hard in the first place.’

Alan’s trembling was more than minute, yet he forced his voice to be firm and steady this time. His glare was back to being fierce, and the fire in his eyes was redder than his ‘Bird. He enunciated just about every other consonant in his words, “If I go with you, do you promise to never go after them again? Because I know there’s no point in going with you if you just keep chasing them.”

The Hood stared blankly for a moment before his typical, creepy demeanor came back. With a few chuckles that brought physical bile up Alan’s throat, The Hood threw his arms out to his sides to make his point more clear, “Dear Alan, if you come with me there’s no point in doing so. There’s nothing I could do that could be worse.”

Jeez, way to kick a guy while he’s down. Alan flinched but continued to hold his head high, “I want your word.”

The Hood thinned his lips in disappointment. He still complied with Alan in the end, “Once you agree to come with me, I’ll take away what’s disrupting your unique vessel, leave your family alone for the rest of their lives, and then we’ll ‘get the heck out of dodge’ as you all say.”

Ew, that one was bad. He bet The Hood made it bad on purpose, the prick. Alan inhaled before exhaling the longest breath of his life, “Fine. Then you have a deal.” Like a true gentleman (Penny would be proud, right?), Alan held his hand out, initiating a handshake to seal the deal.

Then, suddenly, his watch started ringing. On the hand he was holding out. Alan found himself hating that noise for the first time in his life. Panicking, Alan made sure the hologram that appeared was himself and himself only, “H-Hey, brother! Did you find Dad yet?”

A familiar mop of ginger hair floated in between him and The Hood. Raising an eyebrow, John playfully rolled his eyes at his younger brother’s antics. Yes, let Alan play a little bit. They did just do the impossible, after all, “Actually, Alan, we did. Scotty and Virg are almost back with him. I was calling to let you know.”

That smile... the way John was sarcastically bantering with him... the nicknames... it was all because they were getting Dad back, wasn’t it? Alan felt tears mist his eyes. Their family really would be better off...

“Uh, Allie, you good?” Gordon’s voice rang out a few feet away from John

Crap crap crap. Bring it back, Alan, bring it back! “Uh-- yeah! Don't worry, I’m as cool as a cucumber in the middle of July! Hah...”

John’s eyebrow raise was no longer playful. In fact, it was filled to the brim with concern, “Are you sure? If you’re having trouble finishing up, Gordon could easily come up to help you out.”

Alan registered the strawberry blonde’s mmhhm with growing dread.

Dangit, guys, stop being such moms for once in your lives! “No! Wait--” Alan coughed into his hand to clear his throat. He looked away while doing so and then looked back at John with one of his familiar sly grins, “John, Godrz, I swear I’m good. It just took a little bit more to stabilize this part of the rocket. Just give me a few minutes to finish up and then I will be right there to celebrate with you all, got it?"

John contemplated his brother’s words before conceding. Alan was a trained member of IR. His judgment could even be better than theirs sometimes, “Okay.” John leaned his head out of the hologram for a moment before leaning back in with a cheeky grin, “Hey, don’t let Scott know I told you this, but if you want to rush your diagnostics, go ahead. I won’t blame you.”

Alan felt himself snickering along with Gordon. Yeah, this was the right thing to do, “FAB, Johnny, my lips are sealed.”

With a wave, John cut his video feed, leaving Alan in utter silence. Letting out a sigh of relief, Alan let his arms fall to his sides. Everything was going to be okay. Dad was back and could pilot the Zero-X in his place, his brothers would get back a vital part of their childhoods, The Hood would leave his family alone (Kayo would thank him for that one if she could), and things would go back to what it once was.

... He felt really dirty. He abused John’s trust for a reason his older brothers were going to hate themselves for. Alan was allowed to feel regret, right? Because--

Suddenly, Alan felt an arm around his shoulders bringing his tiny body to be closer to someone else. Okay, Alan wants to take it back, this is awful! God, he might genuinely throw up-- John wait--

“Aw, don’t be like that,” The Hood stated coyly, “After all, it appears we will have plenty of time to get to know one another. Better sooner than later, right?” The laughter that rung out in the room sounded like it came from an 80s sitcom dad.

Sweating bullets, Alan grinned in a way even a literal brick wall would know it was forced. So this is what it's like to walk into the pits of hell, good to know.

---

Scott couldn’t really describe what he was feeling at the moment.

The best word he could come up with was elation because holy fuck:

Dad was finally back.

When he stepped into the cockpit with the rest of his family, the world turned upside down, and in a good way. The first to leap out of his seat was Gordon, of course, but also with tears streaming down his face as he flung himself into his father’s arms for the first time in nearly a decade. Scott couldn’t remember for the life of him the last time Gordon genuinely cried. And he meant genuine, I can’t believe this is happening tears, not Gordon, it’s a fictional movie-- But they’re still puppies, Scott! tears.

Slowly stepping back, Gordon moved out of the way for John, who finally initiated a hug himself with no need for bribery, no need for Scott to promise there’s no ulterior motive behind a goddamn hug. John started talking about what he could add to his room back on the island now that I’ll be down more often and Scott thought himself would burst into tears.

Then there was Virgil. Oh, Virgil, who had the best teddy bear hugs in the entire galaxy, was holding back when it came to his dad as if the middle Tracy squeezed too hard the image in front of him would shatter into itty bitty little pieces that he couldn’t put back together again.

And Scott? Scott felt like he could finally breathe again. His dad being back meant he didn’t have to shoulder, well, everything in their lives anymore. At least, not like before. No more needing to be at every Tracy Industries conference, no more needing to be the constant head of IR relations. Sure, Scott wasn’t going to just drop it all, he’s not an asshole, but one day it’ll be a co-piloted effort, in a sense.

It was also going to be nice to just have an extra head around the house, for more than one reason. Chores won’t be so abundant, Grandma might not cook as often, Scott also needed help getting Alan a geography tutor of some kind, and their dad was always incredible at--

Oh, shit. Wait, where was Alan?

Scott bounded toward his four family members who were currently laughing as if nothing were wrong anymore, “Guys, where’s Alan?”

Both Virgil and Jeff jumped, the beginnings of guilt filling their bodies. Shit, of course, that should’ve been the first thing they asked! Before the self-hate train could leave the station, John waved them off in an attempt to calm them down, “Alan’s down in room C6, remember? We sent him down there to keep the ship stable while you two went out to find Dad’s signal.”

Gordon was wiping away his remaining tears as he grinned his biggest grin ever. He started walking out of the room to where his younger brother was waiting, “Y-Yeah, considering he piloted the rocket, we figured he would be better staying inside to keep it in one piece for the flight home.”

Jeff blinked. Alan did?...

A grin spread across his face at the news, a sharp bark of laughter exiting his chest before he could stop it, “Man, I knew he would be just as you guys one day. I’m just surprised it came so soon!”

Scott blinked at his father before his shoulders relaxed, “Yeah, no kidding. I can’t wait for him to tell you all his stories. Some of them are really killer.”

Jeff directed his grin towards Scott, ruffling the brunette's hair like all those years ago, “Me neither! Lead the way, boys.”

They all mindlessly chatted as they made their way to the youngest’s location, unaware of what was about to befall the family. They got to the place Alan stated he would be at and gave each other one last look. Their expressions were giddy: it felt like they were about to jump out and say Surprise! like one of Alan’s birthday parties.

Scratch ‘like’, it pretty much was that.

The door shhed open to a dark room, sending shivers down the family’s spine and killing the mood instantaneously. “Uh, Allie?” Virgil yelled out into the chillier-than-normal room. Suddenly the lights came on, blinding them for just a second. When they reopened their eyes, everyone’s heart dropped to the floor. Gordon would swear he heard five different, distinct thunks in the future.

Because Alan was very much not in the room, which meant he wasn’t keeping everything 'stable' like he said he would. The older Tracys wouldn’t be freaking out so much (maybe Alan just went to get air somewhere else? Heh) if it weren’t for the fact that Alan’s IR sash was laid on top of the control panel. It would’ve been more reassuring if it wasn’t so neatly folded either, to be honest.

The four brothers didn’t even think as they sprinted over to the scene.

Gordon and Virgil mindlessly grabbed the sash and unfolded it, as if their youngest brother were somehow hiding inside the object that was five times smaller than he was. Scott and John rushed over to the control panel and ran a quick but effective diagnostics to figure out what the hell just happened. Meanwhile, Jeff blinked a few times before gaining a serious look (John would later call it the good old fashion Jeff Tracy rage) as he went to join his two eldest sons in their scramble to figure out the why.

With a few beeps signaling the end of the diagnostic, John flinched before shakily bringing his hand to his chin, “This has been stable for the past 20 minutes...”

Scott bristled in anger, not at John, never at his brothers, but at the implications of those words, “What the hell does that mean?!”

John sharply inhaled before looking his older brother dead in the eyes, an emotion between fear and anger stirring within, “It means, Scott, that Alan was a dirty liar.”

Before Scott could question even further, Gordon piped up from his search of the red sash. His tan seemed much paler all of a sudden, “We... we called Alan right before you guys brought Dad back. He said he had to stay here to make sure everything continued smoothly as he just got it stabilized.”

Jeff could feel the self-loathing rolling off of his sons in waves. He wasn’t sure how to comfort them, though, as he wasn’t exactly sure how to anymore. He was sure he could have, but that idea flew right out the window when Virgil mentioned John didn’t really like surprise hugs nowadays (apparently, he "barely liked hugs longer than 5 seconds in the first place"). His second-born loved nothing more than to be swept off his feet from behind back when, well...

Plus, he has always tried his best to never be a hypocrite. He couldn’t help but feel responsible, just a little bit, “Boys, I can’t help but apologize for everything that appears to be happening. I--”

Before Jeff could continue, or any of his sons could argue with his apparent apology, Virgil finally got sick of the tension and aggressively shook Alan’s sash once more, causing a tiny roll of paper to fall out of the pocket. The one Alan specifically requested Grandma to sew on for him when the senior Tracy got the time.

Every family member present jumped as they felt their stomach rip in half. They all looked around at each other with anxiety clear in their eyes... but Jeff noticed that none of his sons looked at him. Clearly, they weren’t used to him being there just yet. Well, he might as well make up for lost time.

He took a step forward and bent over so he could grab the slip. Before he could blink, Scott snapped out of his funk and grabbed it much faster. Jeff didn’t even have a second to reassure his eldest it was okay before Scott rolled open the slip of paper and read it to himself.

Chaos reigned when his only response was to fall to his knees and drop the horrifying message.

“Scott?!” Virgil cried out. Both he and Gordon ran to their oldest brother’s side to find some way to measly comfort him. Meanwhile, John felt something akin to a panic attack coming on. What could Scott have read that made him react like that? John couldn’t move, so Jeff bit the bullet and finally picked up the note himself.

John was abruptly brought out of his head when he heard his father whimper. Yes, whimper, as if he were a baby deer that just got hit by a speeding car. Moving on autopilot, John walked over to his father’s side as the older man covered his hand with his mouth.

Jeff registered movement at his side. Not looking up, he shoved the note to whoever wanted to read it. More guilt filled the back of his head. He shouldn’t be subjecting his sons to this, he should try and protect them, but he would be lying if he said that didn’t feel pointless.

No, not Alan, not their baby.

Shaking slightly, John gripped the note to the point of wrinkles without looking at it. Inhaling once more, John ripped the bandaid off and read what was tearing his family apart one by one.

John was suddenly thankful he didn’t eat his bagel that morning. The last thing he wanted to do was throw up over all of his remaining family.

Do you remember what the alchemists in the olden days based their theories off of, Jeff?

Don’t worry if you can’t remember, I can just tell you.

It was a little something called The Law of Equivalent Exchange.

I win, Tracy. I always do.

#fabfivefeb #fabfivefeb2020 #thunderbirds #thunderbirds are go #alan tracy #jeff tracy #john tracy #scott tracy #gordon tracy #virgil tracy #thunderbirds spoilers #(i mean i guESS)#series: rules of alchemy #fanfiction #fanfic #my post #my fic #(i only feel slightly bad for this)#(in other news guess whos thunderbird three figURE CAME YEAAAAH)

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eremiss · 4 years

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Apparently I forgot to send you asks. SO. 6. do they get married (or equivalent)? 11. sleeping habits? 13. favorite sexual activity? (if you are so inclined! Wink Wonk). 44. do they feel they see each other enough, or do they have activities that take too much of their time? :B

it’s me so it got long oops hahah

6. They’ve both thought about marriage before, mostly as vague daydreams and ‘huh, maybe one day’. Towards the end of ShB they both start to think about it much more frequently and more seriously because they both came so close to death, on top of being separated for so long pre-expansion.

They've both started giving off big ‘long term relationship’ and ‘spouse’ vibes recently (perhaps because Ryne is there to be like their daughter?) even though neither of them realize it. They’ve always been comfortable around each other, but there’s a new sort of energy to it that everyone else can see plain a day, yet they are particularly oblivious to.

Comments or teasing from their friends about being husband/wife or marriage in general tend to get Gwen quite flustered or make Thancred cagey and a little awkward.

Gwen and Thancred are still trying to figure out what they, themselves want in terms of marriage, beyond vague notions of, ‘hey it’s actually I can picture it now, where I never could before’ and wanting a family. They’re both struggling to find a balance between ‘what I/we want’ and ‘what the world needs’ and 'what's actually realistic, anyway?' thanks to all that responsibility and their own sense of duty, as well as wondering if, given their dangerous and hectic lives, a family is even a good idea. They want to be sure of themselves before they try to bring it up with the other, so they've stayed pretty silent on it.

Despite their long term, healthy relationship, Gwen and Thancred are still both uneasy/nervous about labeling themselves and what they have. Kind of ‘it works as it is, but labels might change or mess with it’ aka: labels make it real and ‘real’ about this kind of stuff is intimidating in a good and bad way (similar to thinking ‘getting married will solve our problems’, but instead it will somehow make problems). The biggest talk they’ve ever had about their relationship was in ARR when they had a semi-awkward discussion about what, exactly, ‘they’ were, and settled on ‘basically friends with benefits’.

Hells, they still haven’t even officially declared they’re exclusive; though it’s pretty much understood at this point, given how they clearly have no interest in anyone else and haven’t slept with anyone else in years.

They know what they feel, and they’re confident in what the other feels, ‘I know I’m serious and I’m here to stay. They know I’m serious, and that I’m here to stay.’ And they try to do things to show that, as saying it (particularly with ‘I love you’ involved) is kind of tricky. They’re both comfortable, secure and content knowing they’re committed, even though it’s not explicitly stated… but, well, maybe getting married could actually be kind of nice… one day.

11. Not great, lol. They both frequently stay up too late for one reason or another, and it’s very difficult to make someone sleep who doesn’t want to. The only thing that will reliably get them into bed is not wanting the other to stay up all night, either. (they are amazing hypocrites when it comes to telling the other to take care of themselves or open up more, but not actually do that themselves lol) This inevitably turns into, “I have work to do.” “Fine, then I’ll stay up too.” “No!” “Yes!” or “You’re doing work, yeah, but you know what’s more fun than work? *wink wink nudge nudge*” or the occasional “I’ll go to bed when you do.” “Bet. I’m going to bed now.” “FFFFFF”

Gwen is a fairly standard sleeper (not light, but not dead to the world) unless she’s stressed or anxious, which is when she becomes a light, very restless sleeper. This is when maximum cocooning and stealing of blankets occurs. Thancred is naturally a light sleeper but, given how many partners he’s had, he had no trouble acclimating to sleeping with Gwen despite her fidgeting. She rarely keeps him up or wakes him unless she’s stolen the blankets, or he’s purposely sleeping lightly to keep an eye on her. When she’s restless he’s found the best thing to do (to calm her down and to not lose his blankets) is to basically spoons her and hold her still, and it actually does seem to help.

They’re both early risers, but Thancred is quicker to actually wake up and get his brain functioning. Gwen hides her face and lazes for a few minutes before trudging to the bathroom (sometimes with her eyes closed) where she splashes water on her face or takes a quick, cold shower to wake herself up.

13. Uuhhh… Having sex?? LOL

More seriously, they both love nothing more than giving the other pleasure, as well as indulging in the sights and sounds associated with such. They also enjoy trying new things.

For Gwen, who didn’t do much experimenting and whose past relationships just...well, weren’t nearly as deep and secure as this, just about everything is new, and she’s at least enjoyed experimenting, even if everything wasn’t exactly a success. Some things are a little difficult to wrap her mind around (“I... I’m supposed to wear what?”) especially at first, but she comes to embrace intimacy as a thing where there are no expectations except letting go and genuinely enjoying herself.

Thancred’s done plenty of experimenting, so he’s got the physical aspect pretty covered; instead he’s come to love the new kind of intimacy and familiarity that comes with having a partner he genuinely trusts and has a deep emotional connection with. Genuine tenderness and affection are new, as is relaxing and giving himself over to and trusting his partner rather than feeling he must maintain some aspect of control/distance, and so far it’s working out pretty great.

44. Not at aaaaalllll haha. They have busy lives and tons of responsibilities, especially Gwen, what with being the WoL and all, and there’s rarely a time when one of them isn’t busy, nevermind both of them at once. What’s worse, not only are they busy, but they’re busy apart, given their difference in specialties pulling them to different places.

Gwen is protecting Ishgard and fighting Nidhogg, Thancred is off tracking the Warriors of Darkness.

Thancred is gathering intel in Garlemald and Gyr Abania, Gwen is a world away in Doma.

Thancred is out at Eden, Gwen is running around on the First and the Source.

They try not to complain about it too much, because they know what they do is important and necessary, and they’re both pretty tired of it, honestly, but complaining won’t change anything… That doesn’t mean they don’t vent to each other, though.

They would like to see each other more, yes, but specifically they’d like to work together more. Not only would working together mean time together, it also means being able to look after and protect one another, as well as being able to help in the moment rather than showing up after the fact. Though they complement one another in battle and work together well, their dramatically different skill sets alway shave them on separate assignments.

Failing the above, they’d like to be able to at least share a bed more often (or every night). Even if they didn’t always wake up or go to sleep at the same time, cuddly sleep is good sleep, and they’ve both come to find that physical closeness very mentally/emotionally recharging. Being close enough (aetheryte travel notwithstanding) to sleep together every night would also mean that they wouldn’t be too far apart in general. They’re confident in their own, and each others’, abilities, but that doesn’t mean there’s not some inherent, unexplainable sense of security and assurance that comes with knowing that, if something were to suddenly go to shit (like it so often does) they’re not days or weeks away.

#Thanks for the ask!!#Thancred Waters #Gwencred #They're both wondering about getting married but terrified of actually fully committing #even though they're basically already committed #Because they're both massive dinguses #Snugglesleep best sleep #WHAT'S THIS THE READMORE WORKS NOW????#my writting #guinevere ashe

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wemultitudinous · 4 years

Text

@kingofdirtandnothing asked: For your consideration: John dancing around Alex's kitchen in nothing but his socks and boxers, singing into a wooden spoon.

Alex wakes to the sound of his alarm.

John doesn’t. John mumbles something incoherent in his sleep and rolls over a little more, knees nudging against the back of Alex’s and arm groping clumsily for warmth of the body tucked up against him.

It’s only been four days since he was allowed this, and he’s not used to it, not yet. Might never be, if the giddy lurch low in his stomach whenever he wakes with John next to him is anything to judge by. But as tempting as it is to nestle back against John, to fold himself into the embrace and just savour it, he has work to do. And so, he wriggles out from under John’s arm, slips out of the bed, and has full plausibly deniability on the fifteen seconds he spends standing in the bedroom doorway grinning softly like a fucking idiot before he tears himself away.

He buttons up his jacket, and jogs down the stairs, and gets to work.

Hercules knows, but he doesn’t bring it up. Doesn’t push or pry or ask, because he’s a good guy and he can read a room well enough to know when something is being cradled close and quiet for the moment. Not that it stops the odd tease or joke or innuendo when there’s nobody else around to hear, but it’s fair game and Alex doesn’t mind when it’s just the two of them.

It’s not like Alex wants to hide it, per se. He just doesn’t want to share it yet, is too greedy and too fiercely selfish to let any of it slip out from behind the closed doors of his apartment to be diluted down by the rest of the world.

For four or five hours they work in a cheerful mood. Alex moves between food prep and admin, making sure his rotas are full and reservations are okay, payroll is sorted and ordering is up-to-date while Hercules chops vegetables and tells him a story about some girl he met in a club the other week who’d thought the guy trying to mug her was trying to ask her out.

“But I mean, in the end she didn’t get mugged and she did get his number, so I guess it all worked out,” he finishes with a flourish, running the back edge of the knife along the cutting board to sweep mushrooms into a tub which he dates and seals. Alex snorts from where he’s sitting with his laptop.

“She call him?”

“She tried. Turns out he was in jail for trying to mug an off-duty cop.”

They laugh, and Alex leans back in his chair and stretches his hands over his head, checks his watch as he does. It’s getting late, pushing one o’clock; they could have been done an hour ago but both of them are working at a leisurely pace today. Alex because he’s content, well-rested, and Hercules because he probably wants to encourage the habit.

“Alright, call it a day,” Alex says. “We’re fine for this evening, at least. You gonna be okay?”

Hercules gives him a flat look as he tosses his chopping board in the big steel sink, along with everything else they’ve been using. Alex raises his hands.

“Just asking,” he says.

“I’m a big boy,” Hercules says. “I think I can handle one night in the kitchen without you.”

Which is fair; Hercules is a good sous-chef and a good leader, and the kitchen runs smoothly under him even without Alex present. It’s just that Alex has always been and, no matter how pleasantly he wakes up, always will be a control freak.

“Well, I’ll be upstairs. Just call if you need me,” he offers.

“Like hell,” Hercules scoffs. “I don’t want to get on Laurens’ bad side. Dude could throw a punch if he wanted to.”

Alex thinks about the muscles in John’s shoulders and back bunching under scattered freckles as he does push-ups on the floor, shirtless, because he has a complete and utter disregard for the continued well-being of Alex’s higher brain functions.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “He really could.”

“Gross,” Hercules deadpans. “Get your ass out of here. I’ll finish up.”

And Alex does, because John is upstairs and probably awake, and Alex needs a shower and he’s pretty sure he can convince John that he does, too, without too much effort. He takes the stairs two at a time, already unbuttoning his jacket as he goes.

The music hits him as soon as he reaches the landing, filtering through the door. It’s all synth and drums, right out of the eighties, which means that John’s probably got his hands on Alex’s iPod and he’s probably got a lot of explaining to do about the sheer amount of new wave he owns. He opens the door.

Human League washes over him, as does the sight of John in nothing but his boxers and his socks, slip-sliding his way around the kitchen with a wooden spoon clutched in one hand acting as a microphone. His hair is loose, curls spilling down around his face, and Alex has never seen a person radiate joy quite so brightly as in this moment.

He closes the door behind himself and just leans there, watching, smile playing across his teeth. John spins, catches sight of Alex, and yelps in surprise.

“Don’t stop on my account,” Alex says. “I was enjoying the show.”

John laughs, just a touch self-conscious before he seems to decide to roll with it. He tips his head, beckons Alex forward with a hand, and Alex is pretty much powerless to resist that invitation.

“We need to talk about your iPod,” John says, semi-serious as Alex’s hands slide across bare skin to anchor themselves around John’s waist.

“We need to talk about your dance moves,” Alex returns, tipping his head back in a laugh at John’s outraged expression of offence. “Or, you know. We could skip the talking altogether.”

He’s got to shower and he’s got to eat, and he’s got to try and justify his music tastes, but for once they’ve got all evening and all night for all of that. So he rocks up onto the balls of his feet and kisses John, because he can, and figures that he could do this every day for the rest of his life and still feel fireworks in his belly.

And he’s just fine with that.

#kingofdirtandnothing #&. hamilton #&. hamilton//drabbles #&. hamilton//v: chef #i don't know I DON'T KNOW #i'm just trying to make the words work again

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mysticsparklewings · 5 years

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Big Plans Tiny Planner

Ta-da!! :D It took forever, but I think this is quite possibly my favorite book-making project I've done to date! A while back while JoAnn's was having a sale on decorative paper (I think it was 10 sheet for $2 or something like that?) and I stocked up on a few combinations I thought would work well for future book projects, and among my choices, I had picked out a page that consisted of tiny calendar pages for a full year and a piece of heavy-duty paper that I thought worked well with the various colors on that page (not all the calendar pages were as drab as the January page here, I just didn't have the patience to try and photograph all twelve of them for this ). However, it wasn't until I saw this video by SeaLemon, my go-to person for DIY book things, that I knew how to get pages that work well for a tiny planner. I had originally gotten some small lined memo pads from the dollar store, hoping to use a couple of them for pages in this theoretical mini-planner...only to find out that nope! Those pages are just a little bit too big. Trying to get them and the calendar pages lined up to glue the spine would be infuriatingly difficult. Naturally, this left me semi-up-creek without a paddle. But then I saw the aforementioned video and learned something that had never occurred to me: You can make dot-grid paper...by printing a dot grid onto regular paper!! It seems so obvious and so simple now, but it had honestly never even crossed my mind. I guess because I have actually tried using regular grid paper for a book before and it didn't go as smoothly as I had hoped, in addition to me knowing that making your own lined paper in a similar fashion would be much more tedious task. Lining up lines when you're not a machine capable of cutting pages with laser-precision is both time-consuming and next to impossible to get perfectly aligned pages from. The dot-grid, on the other hand, provides guidelines to use for writing and drawing (the biggest disadvantage to unlined paper), and a guide for cutting, but the dots are spaced in such a way that the cut has to be pretty egregiously bad for it to be immediately noticeable if they aren't quite lined up correctly. Additionally, in this case, specifically, the dots are so faint that 1. it makes any misalignment even harder to notice, and 2. they will not show up on camera for anything, and so I didn't bother trying to include a photo to show said dot-grid. That said, I just printed off the dot grid SeaLemon made and shared in the video description onto normal printer paper. Twelve pages; printed the grid onto the front side of each, then flipped them over and printed it onto the backsides. That way I had double-sided pages and I could cut multiple small pages--four 3" x 4" pages per piece of paper--without worrying about if anything was going in the wrong or right direction. Once the grid was printed, I then used a paper cutter to first slice all twelve pages to be the same size, cutting off the excess where the dot grid didn't print because of printer margins. Then I went back through and cut them down to be the size I needed. After which I counted out four pages for each calendar page, and having learned my lesson about end pages (the pages that connect the text block to the splash pages) from the SweetTarts book I made, I cut two more pages out of cardstock to put on the front/top and back/bottom of the stack. And then I carefully lined up one side of the page stack, clasped it in place with a binder clip, and got gluing. While I waited for the coats of glue on the spine to dry, I started on the covers and splash pages. The splash pages I cut and dealt with without much fuss. The covers, on the other hand... Originally, I meant to cut the covers large enough that I could have a little overhang on the edges to make the book a bit nicer. However, I mismeasured/calculated and didn't realize it until I'd already cut the covers in one direction. It wasn't too late to adjust for the height, but it was too late to adjust for the width. However, that wasn't too terrible, as I figured I could just move the covers over slightly and covered the missing area with the tape over the spine. That did complicate things slightly in that, later on, I had to cut and add strips of paper to the spine area to cover the under of the tape to keep the adhesive from folding and/or sticking to everything. But before the anti-sticky-spine steps happened, I was playing with placement for the cover. Earlier in the process, I had recouped the frame sticker on the front cover from my sticker collection to use in conjunction with the "big plans" placard I wanted to make in a similar fashion to how the names of the months are printed on the calendar pages. While I was fiddling with how it was going to look with the covers, I also started thinking about my choices for the tape on the spine. I ended up thinking that I liked the color of the lines on one of the covers better than the other, based on the frame and the tape options I had, combined with the color of the splash pages that were already attached to the text block by that point. I tried not to. I really did. But I couldn't help myself; I cut out another cover identical to the one of the two that I liked better. To be fair, I'm glad I did because it makes my brain feel better knowing they match nicely, but part of me can't help but wonder if it really would've mattered, provided I had put the other cover on the back. So with that "problem" solved, I could then move on to attaching the covers and placing the tape. And I did. And I am still not very good at getting the spine tape straight on the first try. This was a problem this time, not because this tape was any less forgiving than the other options I've used in the past, but rather because of the thinner paper I'd put in place to cover the adhesive. It did not want to let go of the tape once they were stuck together. As a result, instead of repositioning or even removing the tape, I instead placed another piece on top to fix the unstraight edges. That piece I could reposition, and it's a good thing because it still took me a few tries to get it exactly where it needed to be. I almost thought I was done once that was taken care of and the frame and placard were attached to the front cover. Then I realized this is a tiny planner (of sorts) and a planner could really benefit from book pockets...Which I believe I had originally planned on adding to the book, but it had somehow slipped my mind among everything else. So after I spent way too long deciding on what paper to use for the pockets (and ultimately decided to use some that was leftover from when I made splash pages on the Duck Tape mini sketchbook) and to simply clip the corners instead of using my paper punch to round them because it's started not doing its job very well as of late, I applied the pockets by carefully prying the covers away from the splash pages on the appropriate corners, wedging the pockets in, and then squeezing in a bit of tape and glue to the best of my ability to reinforce them. (Normally reinforcement wouldn't've been an issue because I would've securely taped them to the back of the splash pages before trying to attach the covers.) This time I really did think I was done. And, technically, I was. I was quite proud of my little baby planner, too. The next day I videoed a little flip through of the book to show it to a couple of friends because I figured that would be faster than taking my staging photos like I normally do. In that process, I discovered that it was fairly tricky to flip through the pages and find each calendar page quickly, and also the September page decided to pop out. Apparently it wasn't quite far over enough or didn't get quite enough glue or something. Also, I was a little bothered that one edge of the sticker frame on the front didn't want to stay flat down but also didn't pop up far enough to be able to get more glue under it without making a mess. I've never attempted to reinstate a page that fell out of one of these books before, despite having at least two fall out of one of the first ones I ever made. Fortunately, it went more smoothly than I expected. A little very carefully placed tacky glue and few minutes' patience to hold it still, then some time to dry long-term with extra paper on both sides to absorb any extra glue, it appears fairly stable now. The page-turning took a little more thought, but I settled on using these teeny-tiny heart stickers (one on each side to, again, keep the adhesive from sticking to things it shouldn't) as tiny little page tabs. And when I say teeny-tiny, I'm not kidding. I have fairly small, nimble fingers, and I still found it easier to manipulate the stickers with the help of a pair of tweezers. But they are just big enough to work in this form. The only problem is that they don't stick out uniformly solely because the pages themselves don't, and they have to be stuck on about halfway down the sticker so that they stick to the page securely but still stick out enough to be useful at all once the pages start fanning open. While I had the sticker sheets out to get the hearts off, I peaked at the other options and settled on a few to stick to the frame on the front to fix that other problem about one side not sticking down to my liking. Then I added a couple more on the other side just to balance things out. It's a bit much, but it still feels better than leaving the frame to just stick up like it was. After all of that though, now it's finished. And I'm still very happy, if not even more so, with how it turned out. It was a piece of work, but it looks so nice and it's functional, too! I'm not even sure I'll use it--I haven't decided yet since it is so nice, I'm thinking I might want to keep it as an unmarred example for future projects like it--but I just enjoy knowing it exists and how good the end product looks that it was worth it to me anyway. This was also a bit of an extra learning experience to 1. Plan these book projects out a little more thoroughly in advance, and 2. Pay closer attention before and during the process of cutting anything. Which, I mean, I already try to do those things, but evidently not quite enough, lest I wouldn't have some of the problems I do that often crop up in my making process. I'm not quite sure what the next book project will be, but I do have a few more pieces of that paper that I picked out for some, so we'll see what happens next time I sit down and make some. ____ Artwork © me, MysticSparkleWings ____ Where to find me & my artwork: My Website | Commission Info + Prices | Ko-Fi | dA Print Shop | RedBubble | Twitter | Tumblr | Instagram

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pisati · 5 years

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I keep getting that feeling I always get when I feel like I need to write something, but it’s all played out. I’ve gone over all of it. old feelings I don’t care to rehash because they’re gone, all the bullshit with my mom, feeling like I want to leave, waiting til something happens.

something feels blank. blanker than usual. I didn’t start the 150 XR wellbutrin until last tuesday, but I’ve been feeling pretty bad all month so far. the first week of the month was PMS week, and usually I give myself a little space because I know it’s always at least one of the moods or the cramps or the nausea that week. but it never picked back up. I did have a rough go of it last week and I feel like I’m still recovering. any little thing is enough to put me in a mood. my mood tracker has shown pretty consistently low marks the last 3 weeks and I don’t know what that’s about. I can’t correlate it to anything in particular.

the root of it comes down to fear. not an anxiety fear; a dread fear. I’m scared things won’t work out, but I’m not anxious, if that makes sense. I know something will work out one way or another, but beyond that I’m scared of never being where I want to be. never being able to do something I enjoy, never being able to earn enough, never being able to even physically feel better. I have to hope that something will improve; I don’t want to look at things as so black and white. but the concept of “never” is still a very real possibility and I can’t ignore it. I’d take even marginally better, but it’s still kind of depressing to think that I might not ever be back to the way I used to be before I “got sick”. or whatever the fuck happened to me. I don’t remember being healthy and it breaks my heart to think that I may never be able to feel it again.

I went on a walk the other day and I came back in much more pain than when I left. I had a rough night as far as my jaw, and I took 400mg ibuprofen to stave off the headache I woke up with. I came back home after 2.5 miles to my entire face hurting. pounding headache, my nose burning and everything around it hurt. I smelled blood. I even felt a little drippy so I blew my nose (once I could pull myself off the floor), but there was no blood. I’ve never gotten a nosebleed. maybe I was mistaking the rats’ cage smell for something metallic.

I didn’t even have the energy to be upset that I came home from yet another walk and all I could do was curl up on my floor with my eyes closed. once I could open them I went to open twitter on my phone and hit a random app, only realizing it wasn’t twitter a second or two after it opened. I opened my closet and then tried to throw my tissue in the laundry hamper, because for some reason my brain confused my desire to put my clothes in the hamper with the tissue I was holding. only realized my mistake once the tissue was in midair. once I pulled myself off the floor I took another 400mg of ibuprofen, changed, and got back into bed. I hate crashing like that. I didn’t think my cognitive function got noticeably worse after exertion but apparently it does. thankfully it doesn’t last for long, but... this has never happened before. maybe in a year or two it’ll take me even longer to recover. god only knows.

that’s scary. I’m already waking up almost every day with a headache. I can’t control how much sleep I get, even when I take something for it. and nothing works for more than a few days at a time. my jaw’s been hurting for just about a year now, and that causes all kinds of head pain. when everything in my head hurts for no reason and ibuprofen doesn’t make it all go away... that alone is enough to make me hate existing.

I feel like I shouldn’t ask myself “what if I get worse?” and just focus on my day-to-day. but the fact is, it’s already gotten worse. I’m doing the best I can, though sometimes it doesn’t feel like the best I can do. I suppose instead I could ask myself “what if I plateau?” what if it stops getting worse? that’s at least semi-hopeful. but what if I never get better? I can’t just ignore that possibility. the thought that I may never be able to support myself in the kind of society we’ve created is so fucking depressing. I’m still remembering that time either last year or in 2017 when it hit me very suddenly that I also may never have someone with me and I may need to be okay alone. I don’t have a plan for the possibility that I get worse.

I used to hope one day I’d get married. I guess I still have that hope, but it’s a much more nebulous concept at this point. it almost doesn’t seem like a realistic thing for me to set as a goal. I will say it’s probably spared me a lot of anguish to essentially have written it off. if it does happen it’ll just be one of those nice things, I guess. I remember being in middle and high school, being so incredibly jealous of my best friend for always being in a relationship, all my friends who would talk to their crushes and get close enough to date them. I’d had some moments, but they never went anywhere. I’m sure I spent all those years pining over some dumb boy or another. one to the next. I remember how devastated I was when I thought this one kid in my math class might have liked me back and he asked another girl to junior prom. I didn’t even go that year. charlotte had her boyfriend, everyone else was asking everyone else. I went to senior prom just because I felt like I should at least go to one high school prom in my life, but nobody asked me. it felt like a waste of time and money anyway. I still have my dress, I don’t know what to do with it.

just... all that pain I was in. and I don’t feel any of it anymore. I’m not all that jealous of anyone. maybe it’s because I’ve since learned that being in a relationship doesn’t entail being in a good relationship. I’ve learned over and over again. from friends, from my parents. it would be nice, in theory, I think. a good one. I like going to the store with someone and actually enjoying shopping (but when was the last time I did that?). I don’t think I’d like any of the sappy stuff (have I ever?) but the idea of someone who likes me enough to even try, that’s.. wow. I haven’t even entertained those thoughts in a long time. I guess I feel it’s almost pointless to. I hurt myself enough in the past over lacking it, why keep that up? maybe I had this ideal in my head, and now I’m not even sure it’s possible. I don’t know what a secure, loving relationship is like. it’s like when people tell me I don’t know what I’m missing when they try to get me to eat some food I’ve already refused. you’re right; I don’t know. and I will never have to know if I never try it. nothing for me to be all that upset about.

but then I think about my future. what if I don’t have anyone, ever? the incident that sparked that existential spiral was so benign. I was sitting at a stoplight and watched a van turn out of the cross-street; a woman driving and an older woman in the passenger seat. I flashed forward to my future. couldn’t picture myself having anyone to drive me around when I got old. I don’t mind being alone now, but what happens if I get older and have nobody? I couldn’t even be like my dad; he at least had me and my brother as crutches. what if I get worse and I’m alone?

I know I see things differently than I used to. I feel differently. I know I’ve been feeling blank most recently; the lows still hit pretty hard but I just feel stuck in them. rather than needing to fight myself or find a way out of them. I let them run their course. I remember feeling less skeptical of people’s intentions with me. I guess it didn’t occur to me that other people could experience attraction to me but not to me. because that’s not how I am. I remember being amazed the first time a boy went down on me. wow, he must really like me if he’s willing to do that. amazing how I’ve managed to backtrack on that idea entirely. oh god, this again. I know that look. I feel every hesitation in movement, every second too long the eyes land on any part of me. please don’t put your hand there. please don’t want me. you don’t actually. you think you do for now but you don’t. you don’t mean anything you’re doing. you want what you want and once you’ve got it that’s it. it’s got nothing to do with me and in fact you wouldn’t even be thinking like that if you knew me and on and on. do I value myself that little? or do I trust other people’s intentions that little? do I have good reason to?

that kind of thinking contributed to the blankness. I don’t feel at all the way I used to. I’m not sure I know how to. could be that I just haven’t had the opportunity to, but it’s hard to know. sometimes I ask myself if I see it as a loss of innocence; I’m sure that’s part of it. I at least understand now that not everyone likes people for who they are and are attracted to them in that way if they like them enough. I don’t know why that should prevent me from being able to feel how I did before. why it should make me so distrustful. so stressed at the prospect of someone being interested in me. I used to want that. very much. there’s a chance that one of these days it’ll happen and it’ll be good and healthy and not painful, and yet... I don’t seem to believe that it’s possible. I put a stop to just about everything before it even starts. I can’t even begin to reason out why, besides self-defense. self-preservation. but what’s left to preserve?

bad experiences in the past might be a reason, sure, but I’ve accepted at this point that I let myself get hurt. other people don’t see things the way I do. it is what it is. I’ve honestly forgotten a lot of it; how bad it hurt. I wrote post after post about it while I was in it; paragraph after paragraph and never resolving anything. it just hurt so bad. I can barely remember it but the fear is still there. kind of like with my mom. I forgot a lot of the shit she did to me in high school. I forgot that all of that was probably the reason I don’t feel comfortable telling her anything, even now. I forgot the reason, I kept the fear.

sometimes I like writing with no objective. it’s nice to get some of the running narrative out of my head. sometimes I get close to whatever it is I feel like I need to write about, but sometimes it’s just a feeling that doesn’t quite go away. these are things I know I’ve thought about and haven’t ever really expressed; sometimes it’s just nice to find the right words. sometimes it’s the same things, and I feel like I need to get them out over and over.

I really do need to focus on the few good things I have coming up. I’m seeing one of my favorite bands on sunday, and maybe if I stay late I’ll get to meet them. maybe. I’m not looking forward to all the grown-ass men who are likely going to make the audience annoying at best to be in, because that’s been the case both other times I’ve seen them, but if I can get to the venue early enough and get up front hopefully I’ll be alright.

one of my best friends is coming down next week for a show; he said he can come down wednesday and maybe stay til friday, but I reminded him there’s a book store of sorts in baltimore that we really like and they’re apparently overflowing with books; he was already aware of this and the fact that they’re only open on weekends, so he said he’d check his calendar and see if he could stick around til saturday or sunday. that’ll hopefully be nice. just getting to spend time with a friend. I don’t really have anything in mind to do for all that time, though, besides the show. we’ve always managed to figure something out. I’m not really sure how I feel about it. spending time with him used to be a really nice thing for me but ever since the latter half of 2017 I’ve been even sort of nervous about it. it’s weird to be so distant from someone you’ve been so close to; this person’s seen me naked and yet I’m a little unsure of how to act with them. maybe because it was never clear-cut. because I got hurt and pulled back. because he told me he missed talking to me. I’m not sure how to be much of anything but blank around him at this point. we can still talk and joke like we always have. I just feel weird about all of it. I just need to focus on the fact that he’s a friend who’s coming to visit and it’ll be a nice few days. that’s it. digging up the past doesn’t serve much purpose at this point anyhow.

pride’s coming up; Aria and I are going to do the parade with the ace meetup she found again, and she wanted to do a craft day, so I’m going to have to decide on a shirt design I want. I like the shirt I made years ago and wore to pride last year, but I think it’s time for something else. I’m excited to plan outfits and all that with a fellow ace. I’m still amazed after all these years we still vibe so well and we both ended up ace, ha

farm jam’s coming up too, and I’m trying to plan a little better than I have in previous years. I need a new tent; I want one of my own that’s taller and at least a little bigger; I have a cot this year and I don’t think it would fit very well in the tent I have now. not to mention it’s a tent we’ve had for years, it’s not even mine, and I used it last year and it was really hard to deal with. the queen air mattress I’d been able to borrow filled the whole tent so it was near impossible to get in and out, plus it didn’t even fill all the way so I was really struggling to get up from it. it was almost impossible to change clothes. plus I had The Bucket, and there was almost no room to use it comfortably. also not ideal when you need a light in the tent, and then people can see all the shadows inside. it would be nice to get one of those darkening tents. but the ones I’ve found are all pretty low to the ground. maybe I’ll go to the sporting goods store one of these days, instead of searching the same few tents on amazon. I need to figure out my food situation too, but I think I know how I can be better prepared this year. meal prep is easy enough, and I can always pack snacks that can be taken home in case I don’t get around to eating them there. the challenge is going to be finding things that either don’t need to be cooked or don’t need much in the way of cooking. we have a fire pit every year but it’s very hard to cook over an open fire, contrary to what you’d think. it took me at least an hour last year to get water hot enough to cook the ramen I brought, and even then I don’t think it boiled. I know there’s things I can make that don’t need to be cooked, but I’ll definitely have to prep it all beforehand. we’ve had issues in the past where everyone in the group will pack enough for themselves and also for everyone else, thinking people will want to share. then we all have so much extra food we end up having to bring home. I did better last year, but still had extra. I need to think of other things to bring to the farm too, so I won’t be bored. I didn’t think I was all that bored last year, and I didn’t even use most of what I brought. maybe just a crochet thing or some other craft (maybe my stones for wrapping?), and my guitar. a book too; it was nice having The Book Thief last year. I think I brought it my first year too, and it was nice to have as company while my anxiety was doing what it does. I’m sure I could pack lighter this year, but I also don’t want to bring too little, you know? one thing I won’t skimp on is blankets. I brought as many as I could last year and I was still cold at night. it gets into the 50s at night. maybe I should see if I can find a little cordless space heater? or something that can keep my tent warm at night that won’t catch everything on fire, lol. [a quick google search told me that portable tent heaters do exist. that might have to go on my shopping list. I get entirely too cold at night and this year I won’t have a queen-sized mattress to hold all my blankets]

then of course scotland. I haven’t traveled internationally... well, I’d say in a few years, but I did just go to Cozumel last year. it didn’t quite feel like international travel, though. we went to a resort, with a bunch of other white people vacationing and the Mexican staff catering to us. the last genuine experience I had was Iceland. it doesn’t feel like it’s been 3.5 years, but it also does. I miss it a ton. I don’t know how my anxiety’s going to do with this. I already know I’m going to struggle a little through farm jam. it’s happened every year. then I’m going to have to come home and, within a few days, get on a plane. two planes. alone, for the first time in my life. I know I’ll be nervous once I stop moving. I’m not sure why that is. I want to say it’s got something to do with unfamiliarity. once I stop moving I can become more aware of where I am and what’s around me. I don’t know where the issue comes from with unfamiliarity, but I’ve always had that. something like neophobia, but not quite. I don’t really feel afraid of new things, necessarily. just some deep-rooted discomfort with it. I feel like most people have some level of discomfort with things they’re unfamiliar with; that’s only natural. but not everyone gets anxiety attacks over it. could be partly because anxiety triggers nausea, and from there the emeto anxiety takes over. it’s hard to know. I’m just glad I have a pretty decent handle over it. I could be in much worse shape mentally, for sure. so many people I know have issues much more complex than mine and while mine aren’t exactly easy to deal with, I’ve been able to power through a lot of them without help. and I think doing that made me stronger in some ways too. I don’t want to know where I’d be if I had some kind of vice as a crutch.

I would say I forget where I was going with this, but it never had a direction to begin with.

tomorrow I need to clean the rats’ cage, and I need to write a letter back to my friend in jail. I got his letter maybe a week ago and I need to just sit down and come up with something to write in response.

seems like a lot of my time lately is spent waiting to get through the day. I’m nervous to come back from scotland. I’m nervous that I’ll have heard back from this job by then, and I’m nervous either way it goes. I’m of course nervous I won’t get it, but I’m also not ready to lose my down time if I do. I feel like these last 10 and a half months have breezed by. like they didn’t even happen. I still don’t feel rested enough. I’m already kind of dreading going, because I’m dreading coming back. I hate being so bothered by the fact that everything ends.

I don’t really have much after that to look forward to. my birthday, maybe. I don’t have the energy to do anything for it this year. I don’t have anything I want to do. nobody I really care to spend it with. just a few years ago I was sad thinking my friends forgot and I tried to make plans to be around them for my birthday so it wouldn’t completely suck. I just don’t care anymore. sad to already be so disenchanted with the few little things in life people seem to care about. I would say, well, maybe I’ll have a job by then, but it’s a saturday this year. cool.

I’m not looking forward to winter. already. barely out of this last one and I’m already dreading the next. I really need to move somewhere where it’s warm year-round. everything about existing feels so much worse when it’s cloudy and grey and cold.

it’ll be a year in september since my dad passed. a month and a day after my birthday. we told some of his friends that we wanted to do a celebration of life for him, but that still hasn’t happened. I’m not sure if it’s going to, and I’m not sure how that’ll look to friends and family. I almost don’t care at this point. I should have told people to mourn how they saw fit. I’m sure that’s what he would’ve wanted anyway. a celebration of life if nothing else, but dad wasn’t really one for parties either. I know he wanted some of his ashes scattered in Iceland. one of these days I’ll be able to do it. but I know he’d have been just fine with people remembering him in their own ways. I miss him a ton. I knew I would, of course, but it never really hit me how permanent it’d be once it happened. I really would never be able to talk to him again. as frustrating as it could be, I do miss his random calls and rambling to me for an hour. his text puns. how he’d sometimes bring me a bowl of ice cream at some point in the evening when we were watching something or I was on my computer.

sometimes it hits me how different things are in my life already. I never saw them like this, and I can’t say I really like it. I’m 24 and I don’t have my dad anymore. I knew since I was 13 that one day this was going to happen. but still somehow it didn’t seem real. I still had my dad, after all. he was sick, but he was there. I don’t even have my sick dad anymore. I watched him dying. I felt his cold, stiff hands. I didn’t get to say goodbye. sometimes I still look at the box of ashes at the foot of my bed and it hits me like a truck again.

I’m honestly a little scared that no matter how good things get for me, it’ll never be good enough. I don’t know what to do about that feeling. I do feel like I appreciate where I am and what I have and how lucky I’ve been, but maybe I need to work harder at that.

I’m tired of this feeling. I don’t know what it is. besides blank, it’s just... unpleasant. it’s not even melancholy. something does feel bad, but it’s not quite sad either. maybe it’s just all these little worries eating at me. I’m sure I’d feel a lot lighter not having to worry. but wouldn’t everyone?

I’m tired of thinking. I spent all day wanting to get up and do something and I didn’t. I wanted to work on my crochet bag, and I didn’t. I wanted to work on that letter, and I didn’t. I took a nap, I watched a lot of hulu, I did some crosswords, I ate a few things, I stayed in bed. I just don’t feel up to much. I don’t like much of anything about the person I’ve been lately, but I don’t know what to do about it. I can’t induce energy. sometimes a shower and picking up my room do make me feel a good bit better, but man. I don’t feel up to showering every day while I don’t have to, but I feel so gross if I don’t. my hair’s been a pretty big source of distress for me lately. there’s nothing I can do about it and that makes me feel even worse. it’s so thin and it looks worse when it gets greasy, which it does very quickly because of 1. how thin and fine it is, and 2. how naturally oily my fucking skin is. sometimes I wish I could lose a bunch of weight so I wouldn’t look so big with such thin hair. maybe with a skinnier frame it wouldn’t look so bad. I don’t know.

I guess I should61ry to sleep. I’m afraid it’ll be just another one of those nights. the last few I’ve only managed to keep myself out for 4 hours max at a time. could just be one of those phases I’m in. yesterday I was so fucking tired. going for 15-16 hours on 5-ish total hours of sleep, and I was out quicker than usual just before midnight. still felt half-awake by the time my phone dinged at 4:30 ish. I’m pretty sure I woke up at 2-something having to pee. hard to remember.

I’m just kind of tired of existing right now. I can’t say everything sucks, but I feel just so beat up. I don’t think I have a purpose here, but it’s hard to even find anything that makes me feel like my existing is worth it at all. I don’t know.

#more long rambly posts #I do miss writing to write #getting it all out; whatever it is

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