#i found myself caught in a pocket universe

[mumblelard]

biscuits and cheese planes and crow calls and cummings

the swallows at the lake are still going ham on something too small to see in numbers too large to believe

the first neighbor i met after moving into this place, he left for an inpatient rehab yesterday. he started crying when he told me what was happening. i knew i should hug him but i didn't want to get burned by the cigarette in his shaking hands. i wish i had hugged him anyway

boba learned how to open one of the treat jars that i keep handy by the couch and i think she gave herself a stomach ache. she has only done it once and maybe i didn't put the lid on right, but trying to do it again has been keeping her busy the last few days

the twins across the courtyard are away shooting a movie and their mom is with them. from the window in front of my desk, i can see their dad and two sisters go a little bit more feral every day

i am in a drone-metal-in-the-woods phase that is as close to a satisfying drug experience as i have come in years

the family that threw the four day wake that i thought was a birthday party are getting evicted, not because of the noise, but because their drunken attempt to release several crates of doves in the middle of a playground resulted in significant property damage. apparently, at one point the minister they hired to speak at the wake called the police on them himself

[ginxyy]

Whispers of love

My soulmate Wonwoo

It feels strange to think back on how it all began, the rhythm of our hearts finding a beat that resonated in the most melodic of ways. I met Wonwoo on a crisp autumn morning, the universe weaving our paths together like the intricate patterns of falling leaves. I remember the way the sun filtered through the trees, casting a warm glow on everything it touched, but it was his presence that illuminated my world in a way that had been missing all along.

Our first meeting was at a small café, one that prided itself on its eclectic ambiance and aromatic coffee. I had nestled in the corner with my favorite novel, completely oblivious to the universe conspired to change my life. That's when he walked in, tall and graceful, his hair tousled yet perfect, his eyes shimmering with the secrets of a hundred stories untold. He ordered his coffee with a casual confidence that made my heart flutter against my ribcage.

It was fate or perhaps luck that led him to the empty chair across from mine. A timid smile broke the barrier of silence between us, and time lost its meaning. We exchanged small talk that felt like freshly brewed love; I sensed an intriguing spark that dared my heart to hope. Our connection was instant, an electric current dancing around us, conversing even when our lips did not move.

Weeks turned into months, and in the vibrant tapestry of our lives, every shared moment became a thread woven together by laughter and whispers. I remember a cold winter evening when we decided to escape the chill by building a fort of pillows and blankets in his living room. The scent of fresh popcorn lingered in the air while our favorite movies endlessly played in the background. As we nestled under our makeshift shelter, I felt a rush of warmth as he wrapped an arm around me, pulling me closer. I still cherish that feeling the way his heartbeat synchronized with mine, echoing the promises of many evenings still to come.

It was during one of those cozy nights that he looked at me with a vulnerability that made my heart leap. “I can’t help but feel like there’s something magical between us,” he admitted, his voice barely more than a whisper. My cheeks flushed pink, and I watched him fidget with the hem of his sweater, a cute nervous habit of his. I wanted to respond but found my words entangled in the tenderness of the moment. Instead, I leaned in and pressed my lips against his, a soft and tentative gesture that spoke volumes.

With that kiss, the air shifted, enveloping us in a cocoon of warmth and intimacy. Gone were the uncertainties that once loomed over us like an overcast sky; we had chosen to dance in the light of newfound love. Every stolen glance and playful jab the way he would pretend to be annoyed when I’d steal the last slice of pizza only deepened our bond. I loved how we could easily slip into a world of our own, where laughter filled the spaces between our words and every silence blossomed with unsaid affection.

Valentine's Day arrived, bathed in hues of pink and crimson, and I found myself immersed in a flurry of imagination and excitement. Wonwoo had always been fond of words his heartfelt poetry often found their way to me in the form of handwritten notes and texts that would linger in my mind long after I’d read them. So, it was no surprise that he had something special planned.

That evening, he invited me to a secluded park, illuminated by strings of fairy lights that twinkled like stars. As I stepped out of the car, my breath caught in my throat he had set up a picnic, complete with a soft blanket, fairy lights, and my favorite things to eat: strawberries, chocolate, and pastries that melted in your mouth. The gentle rustle of leaves swayed to the loving rhythm of our laughter as we savored the delicacies.

In that ephemeral moment, I felt like the luckiest person alive. Wonwoo looked up at me, his gaze softening as he reached into his pocket and produced a small, silver necklace. “I saw this and thought of you,” he said, his tone steady yet laced with warmth. The delicately crafted heart pendant glimmered in the soft light, but it was the sincerity behind his words that truly left me breathless. “I wanted you to remember that my heart is yours, always.”

As I clasped the necklace around my neck, a wave of emotion swept over me. “You’re the sweetest,” I whispered, feeling tears threatening to spill. He brushed a delicate finger beneath my cheek, wiping away a lone tear before pressing his lips against mine once more. It was magical; it felt like the stars had aligned just for us.

That night, I fell asleep under the star-studded sky, wrapped in blankets and each other's arms. I wasn’t sure how many moments like this we would share in a lifetime, but in that perfect bubble of love and laughter, I knew we would savor each one.

As the seasons changed, our love grew not just in words but in the way we fought for each other, how we celebrated victories no matter how small, and offered strength during storms of uncertainty. There were quiet evenings spent nestled together, the world fading into the background, while our hearts hummed a melody unique to us. Our inside jokes began to fill the spaces of every conversation, and I often found myself mesmerized by how deeply I was falling for him, as if I were diving into a beautiful, endless ocean.

And just like that, with each moment we shared, I was reminded of how extraordinary love could be. It was simple yet profound, wrapped in the purity of affection and the comfort of understanding. Standing still in time, two souls seamlessly intertwined, creating a beautiful canvas painted with memories, laughter, and love.

In the quiet aftermath of those cherished moments, I found solace in the knowledge that I had discovered something beyond measure something like a love song that echoed softly between us, waiting for its chance to be sung. With every beat, every whispered word, and every fleeting touch, I knew I had found my home in him. And as the days rolled into months, the melody of us continued to play—an eternal serenade of affection, a story of two hearts, dancing to the rhythm of love.

[violetsiren90]

Under the Hunter's Moon

Pairing: Yoongi x f!Reader (What the Moon Saw universe)

Genre: drabble; non-idol AU; friends to lovers; young love; autumn/harvest vibes, pure unadulterated fluff

Summary: A disappointment turns into something unexpected when Yoongi encounters you outside of your cliffside haven.

Content warnings: PG rating, but ALL my content is off-limits to minors; depictions of underage smoking; allusions to divorce; school bullying; Yoongi being a scaredy cat on rides lol; mentions of eating and food; allusions to a difficult home life; cuties at a carnival 💕; brief feelings of panic; riding in the back if a truck sans safety restraints.

Word Count: ~3200

Author's note: I spent my birthday today at a little pumpkin patch by the sea. I'd been wanting to go since getting the idea for this drabble a few months back. I felt like I got to ring in the next year with them, somehow. I felt them in the salty breeze and I heard them on the crash of the waves. They are so precious to me. ❤️

If no one has told you yet today you are loved and so worthy of it! 🧜‍♀️💜

He had found you sniffling under a sprawling valley oak that had tilted its way over the aged planks and posts of the two-rail fence and stretched out toward the naked expanse of the strawberry field and the last fiery rays of the late-October sun. He and Hoseok had broken away from the pack of boys he hung around with to find a quiet nook for a smoke. When he had seen you look up at him in surprise from where your face had been buried in your drawn-up knees, nose red and cheeks stained with tears, he had shoved a cigarette into Hobi's shirt pocket and sent the freshman packing. Now Yoongi was sitting next to you in silence, his back to the trunk, stealing furtive glances at you between drags. You heaved a sigh and leaned back against the tree, your shoulder brushing his. 

"I'm okay," you murmured, drawing the back of your hand a last time over your eyes, mascara that you rarely wore smudging across your knuckles.

"Yeah?" he asked, his gaze trained over the mulched land that stretched from the tips of his Converse to where the dying light strained out to bathe his soft, porcelain features in a golden sheen. "You here with somebody?"

"I...was...I guess," you muttered despondently. "Don't really know why I ever let myself believe they would want to hang out with me. Should have just stayed home like last year."

You kept your gaze from his, your eyes instead catching the movement of his slender, athletic legs stretching out in front of him and kicking up little clouds of silt that caught here and there as they dissipated over his light-wash skinny jeans.

"What are you doing here, anyway? You hate crowds."

You felt his shoulder shrug against yours.

"It's the Fest," he remarked, "Everybody goes."

Every year on the Friday before Halloween, your high school loaded its coastal-dwelling autumnally-deprived students onto busses for a forty-five minute drive inland and into agricultural territory to attend the massive Fall Fest for which its hosting county was acclaimed. It was the highlight of the semester - more anticipated than the winter formal - and for good reason. Tickets purchased upon entry (and sold in homeroom two weeks in advance) could be traded for carnival rides and games and seasonal attractions, while a little cash could afford attendees delicious treats and festive souvenirs.

You had never really seen what all the fuss was about. But, then again, events of such a nature were infinitely more enjoyable when one had someone with which to share them - a novelty you had never been afforded until a week ago, when Miranda Dallet and another girl from her posse had asked you to sit with them at lunch. When they asked you to attend the Fest with them you had been surprised, a feeling which had given way to one much less pleasantly anticipatory when Miranda had begun asking you about your newly-divorced father's house - the one just a few miles into town from the Fest grounds, and the one he had apparently told Jacqueline Peters' mother had a hot tub and a 50-inch flat screen TV.

When your father had agreed to let the lot of you stay over at his after the big bash, the reaction of your new acquaintances had you feeling the tiniest bit proud, even if you knew you were being used...you had never really had girlfriends before. Their squeals of excitement and insistent vows that you were the best had lit a little candle in your heart you hadn't even realized existed. Its flame had grown brighter over the days that followed as you planned outfits and borrowed lip gloss and let the others style your hair. And then, half an hour ago, it had been snuffed out when your father had called to cancel last minute, and the news had seen Miranda call you a liar and a poser, thereby revoking her friendship, her crew, and the white puffer jacket she had insisted you borrow, to leave you crushed and alone beside a candy-apple cart.

Your heart sank at the prospect of recounting your pathetic tale to Yoongi...but, he never asked. He merely finished his cigarette, tossing the butt into the upturned soil, and then standing and brushing off his jeans, shoved one hand in the pocket of his bomber jacket and extended the other down to you. You took it and let him pull you to your feet. As you swiped away the smudges your tears had made of the supposedly waterproof eye makeup, you felt Yoongi's gaze drift over you. You blinked up at him questioningly.

"You look...different," he offered, shoving his other hand into its corresponding jacket pocket.

You wrapped your arms self-consciously around the bare inches of your midriff. A trip to the local mall with Miranda and company after school the previous day had resulted in the purchase of your current attire: a light-pink spaghetti-strap tank that hugged your torso, ruched sides pulling it well above the studded waistband of your snugly fitting lowrider jeans, accompanied by a pair of hoop earrings larger than you had ever worn and which were nearly as shiny as your lip gloss. Temperatures remaining in the low seventies well into the late days of fall allowed teenage girls across your county to continue their relentless pursuit of getting dress-coded in the name of Brittany Spears. At events like these, however, the chaperoning staff were wise enough to let it be, as such efforts would likely result in wasted funds and totally empty busses. You had decided to take the plunge and wear something rather decidedly out of character.

"Well," you huffed, "I couldn't come the way I usually dress..."

Yoongi's brow creased.

"What's wrong with how you dress?"

"Ah...I don't know...I just wanted to look nice, I guess."

He nodded, eyes on his shoes.

"Do I look...bad?" You asked quietly, smoothing your hands down over the denim of your pants.

Yoongi looked a bit surprised when his eyes flicked up to yours again, and then they softened as he answered.

"No...no, of course not."

You smiled gratefully and his dark eyes went wide like a baby's as he tilted his head down, glancing about as he drew his bottom lip between his teeth and raised a hand to scratch behind his ear. If you hadn't known better, you would have thought he looked a bit shy. Was he shy? Something inside you preened a bit at the thought. Your bashfulness having dissipated, you moved your hands to clasp behind your back. Yoongi cocked a brow, a little grin tugging at the corner of his mouth as he stripped of his jacket and held it out to you.

"Looks a little cold though," he remarked, a teasing glimmer in his eyes.

"I'm fine, thank you," you huffed, feeling a bit caught, and crossed your arms in indignation.

He shrugged, still smirking, and tossed the jacket over his shoulder.

"Suit yourself," he remarked, "But it's gonna be a lot chillier when it's dark."

"I'm leaving anyway," you sulked, trudging toward the low fence and clambering over it.

"Why?" Yoongi asked quickly as he followed, nimbly vaulting the wooden structure and coming to land beside you.

"Because I got ditched. I'm not gonna wander around here alone like a loser."

You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, and watched him physically swallow the joke that had formulated on his tongue about it being too late for you in that regard. Instead he reached up and poked you on the cheek.

"So don't go alone. Come with me."

You blinked at him. You had never once hung out with him outside the ledge. There had been the occasional brief wave of a hand across a parking lot or small affectionate smile when passing in a hall, but never so much as a word between you when at school. It had been an unspoken mutual agreement, keeping the worlds of your lives and the ledge separate. It kept your shared hiding place a haven from the rest of it all - one that you both desperately needed. So, his proposition caught you off guard and feeling a little uncertain. Yoongi must have realized your quandary, because he draped his jacket gently around your shoulders and gave you that little hopeful raise of his brows you'd have moved mountains for, and before you knew it, he was ambling alongside you as you trotted towards the lights and laughter of the rides.

It was strange and new, being with him like this, and you began to realize that even though you could read his face like the pages of a book and stood gatekeeper to many of the secrets of his gentle, burning heart, you'd never seen the sweet little smile that cotton candy caused to bloom on his lips, or how quickly it could vanish at the prospect of riding the slingshot. This being so, you couldn't help but take him in like some lovely unknown creature as you sat beside him on the Ferriss wheel and watched him glance nervously toward the ground growing further and further below.

"You okay?" you asked in amusement, glancing at his whitened knuckles where they clutched the safety bar across his lap.

He hummed in assent, now peering down over the tips of his shoes. You followed his gaze, leaning forward and consequently causing the little bucket seat to rock as it climbed toward the peak of the structure.

"Yah, yah, yah, yah!" Yoongi hollered, eyes wide as saucers as he yanked you back upright and only succeeded in rocking your seat more violently.

You didn't understand what he said next - he had slipped into Korean - but you were laughing too hard at his terrified and exasperated expression and how he clutched your arm to pay any mind to what he had to say.

The Ferris wheel proved to be the sole ride of the evening, as Yoongi flatly refused to endure another, and you made your way into the stretch of grounds that smelled like cinnamon and grilled meats and sounded with booth attendants enticing festivalgoers to try a hand at winning their wares. You stopped to toss a few coins onto dishes, coming infuriatingly close with your third penny to winning a giant Pikachu plushie.

You then proceeded to toss and toss until you had nearly exhausted your change purse without luck - only pausing when Yoongi appeared at your elbow with a two corndogs, slipping one into your hand. You protested at him spending his money on food you knew, though simple, could not have been cheap. He ignored your indignation, however, leading you back into the bustle and sermonizing over the rigged nature of the coin-toss game.

You looked down with a small plaintive smile at the paper boat encasing the deep-fried fare in your hands. Yoongi, though sharp and driven, wasn't a good student. He had a reputation for slacking off on assignments and cutting classes that won no favors with teachers who would never know that he had been working two jobs under the table since he was thirteen. That without his help his family would likely lose their home. That he had bought his mother nearly every single earthly possession she had. That the dinner you were holding meant a hell of a lot more than just a few bucks for some carnival food.

He was still chatting on in an endearing, self-satisfied drone, eyes half-lidded and head tilted back pedantically, when you suddenly slipped your arm under his, squeezing his bicep affectionately.

"What?" he looked down at you, interrupting his own stream of thought.

You shook your head as you took a bite of your corndog and grinned up at him through full cheeks. He let out a chuckle, taking a bite of his own.

"Were you listening to anything I said?" he grumbled in lighthearted accusation over his own mouthful. 

"Of course not," you hummed, bumping his hip, and causing him to stumble beside you.

He grunted, the corner of his mouth pulling up just ever so slightly. 

"Fright walk!" you crooned, pointing at a structure decked out in campy cobwebs with a lopsided grim reaper standing wobbly attendance at the door.

"Nope," Yoongi shook his head, tugging you suddenly in the opposite direction.

"Chicken!" You whined.

"Korean. Fried." He deadpanned with a straight-lipped smile and you nearly choked on the last of your corndog as you snorted with laughter.

Yoongi grinned down at you. There it was on your pretty lips again, that smile that lit up his world like a beacon in the night. If someone had asked him if it was more important for the sun to rise in the east each day or for that smile to reach your eyes, he would have plunged the very earth into darkness every time, deny it as he might.

"Come on," Yoongi murmured.

Weaving through the booths, stray leaves crunching underfoot, he led you to a long line of festival goers queuing up to pile into the beds of big trucks loaded down snuggly with bales of hay.

You had only been in line a few minutes when you heard their voices behind you. You recognized Miranda's snicker and your stomach twisted into a knot. The brisk breeze suddenly tripping over you from behind carried with it their mirthless laughter, and you froze in place as your body and mind waged a war of priority over delaying your tears and moving your feet.

A victor was never decided.

Your swimming eyes blinked and saw him, his little smile and soft, determined eyes, as he moved in front of you, pulling up the collar of his jacket on either side of your face. He held it there, steady hands, the fabric brushing your hot ears as his eyes locked yours and silently told you to breathe, wordlessly promised it would all be alright. The sights and sounds of the festival faded and all you could hear was the soothing, rhythmic crash of the sea.

"Want to get out of here?" Yoongi asked lowly, after a long moment, gaze still holding your own.

You nodded and he took your hand.

Yoongi borrowed your cell phone to make a call and walked with you down the dirt road that opened into a rural highway from the mouth of the festival grounds. As you walked you told him about the girls. About your father's broken promise. About the not being needed, and not so not being wanted. He let you pour out and sift through your anger and hurt in the company of his gentle and receptive silence.

Half a mile's trek brought you to a tiny gas station, its aged, yellowing sign flickering to life as the sun finally yielded the dim glow of its last strains to the darkness beyond the strawberry fields.

Yoongi bought two cans of cola from a buzzing old vending machine, handing one to you as he sat beside you on the iron bench chained to the side of the building. The stars began to peep out and speckle the sky as the full moon tipped over the eastern horizon to find you, much to its surprise, quite far from your little ledge, though still side by side. It watched you curiously until its flaxen beams were joined by a pair of bobbing headlights as a truck rumbled up off the road.

"Thanks, hyung," Yoongi clapped the driver, a handsome older boy who glanced between the two of you with a sly smile, on the shoulder before gripping the edge of the bed and bracing a foot against the tire to hop into the back of the truck. He turned and held a hand out for you.

"We're riding back there?" You asked skeptically, glancing over the dusty plastic ridges of the bed.

"We never got that hayride," Yoongi said with a shrug, and your heart squeezed in your chest as you grabbed his hand and let him pull you in.

You scootched against the back of the cab, pulling your knees up to your chest. The warmth was quickly dispelling in the darkness, and cool air whipping around your body as it dipped through the bed made you shiver. Your eyes flicked to Yoongi's bare arms.

"Here, thanks for the loan..." you murmured, shrugging the jacket off and holding it toward him.

Before he could refuse to take it, your ride jostled on the unpaved road, tossing you across his lap. His arms caught you, and after a moment's hesitation, pulled you to his chest and over his right leg, fanning the jacket out over your bodies. Your back to his chest and his arms around your waist, he held you, as he had a dozen times before. A dozen times and your heart still fluttered - fluttered and then settled into safety as you settled into him.

An hour or so later, Yoongi reached up to lift you down onto the sidewalk. You didn't notice as your eyes caught his - sweeter and rounder - how his hands lingered a moment too long at your waist. The driver asked if Yoongi wanted a ride back to his place and he declined, thanking him again. The older boy said Yoongi owed him a fishing trip and Yoongi chuckled, waving him off as the truck rolled down the street.

Your house was dark, and Yoongi walked you to the front door, hands stuffed in his pockets. You turned the key in the lock, and then you turned to him.
You took him in as he looked down at you, his pretty, soft features concealing none of his affection. He swallowed, shifting on his feet.

"What?" he asked.

"Thank you," you murmured earnestly.

"For what...?" and he began to scoff gently, but your answer came too quickly and sincerely for him to protest.

"For tonight. For every night," you sighed a little breath full of aching gratitude. "For being my friend."

His lovely dark eyes widened and his lips parted and suddenly you found yourself raising up on your tip toes to press your mouth to his cheek.

You did it before you could stop yourself and you turned before you could look at him, and you slipped into the quiet house, closing the door behind you just a bit too quickly - so that he wouldn't see, so that your eyes wouldn't give you away.

In doing so, you had missed it.

But the yellow hunter's moon gazing fondly down through the dark, wispy clouds had seen.

It had watched you kiss the boy's cheek. It had watched you hurriedly take your leave. And while you sighed wistfully on the other side of the door, it had watched the boy raise his hand to touch his face, walk back down to the street, and quietly lose the battle he had been fighting all night - every night, in fact, since that first on the cliffside. 

It had watched him fall in love with you.

-Fin-

[bvidzsoo]

Cherry Blossoms

🌸Student!Mingi🌸

TW: nothing, just a lot of crack imo, and mentions of murder sorta lol

Word count: 1.9k

Genre: university!au, stranger to lovers!au

A/N: Wellll, hi? hehe, idk either what this is other than a super random drabble that I had to write or else it would've haunted me for the rest of my life LOL (it also might be another excuse to not write my thesis *dies*) Apologies if the humor is not humoring, I usually don't write in this style (at least imo). I hope you enjoy, and let me know your thoughts about it! (divider)

            Have you ever had a moment of clear confusion? So profound that no matter how hard you tried making sense of it…it just started making even less sense? That the longer you moved your mind around it, the stronger the headache became. Well, that’s how I felt staring up at the scarily tall guy looking down at me with the softest eyes, which were slightly shaking if I looked close enough. His plush and red lips pulled into the sheepiest grin I’ve ever seen and nose tall and straight, probably sculpted by some God the second he was born. I knew his face, I mean, it would’ve been hard not to when I’ve spent half a year staring back sometimes as I have caught him looking at me numerous times. This guy standing in front of me right now, placing his weight from one leg to another, hands behind himself, and cheeks very slowly flushing, was a predicament I would’ve never even thought I could’ve dreamed of.

“Come again?” I found my voice at last, eyebrows threatening to go past my hairline.

“Are you free right now?” The question sounded innocent enough, but I couldn’t put myself past the graveness of his voice. I would’ve never imagined it could go so low and hold so much rasp, but again, I have barely heard his voice before as he rarely conversed with people around himself.

“Depends why you want to know.” I answered, pushing my hands inside the pockets of my striped spring jacket. The weather was finally warm enough to allow us to wear our lighter fabrics without freezing to death at any given point of the day. The guy standing in front of me hesitated for a second, and then ran his fingers decorated with heavy rings through his silver-blonde hair. The change to it was new, and I would be a liar if I said I wasn’t taken aback by it when I saw it. But it fit him, in a very handsome way, If I must admit that.

“I was just wondering if you’d like to hang out with me…” Oh, well, that was another twist to the plot I had not been expecting. I chuckled, not because I found him funny, just because I knew my two best friends would be hollering on the sidelines hearing this guy’s words. Half a year spent staring at me from the shadows, avoiding eye contact and aggressively watching me when I wasn’t looking, now stood in front of me, looking just as nervous as I felt on the inside, asking me to hang out with him. What sort of alternate universe have I accidentally entered this morning?

“Okay, sure.” He didn’t need to know I actually had one more class. He had finally approached me, was talking to me, looking at me, and acknowledging my existence as one should normally do. That sounded like a good enough reason for me to skip my last class, I’m sure anyone would understand.

“Oh, that’s…” The flush on his cheeks became more prominent now, and he bit his plump bottom lip to stop his lips from spreading into a huge smile, “nice.”

I hummed and offered him a small smile, actually feeling excited about how things were turning out. Even five minutes ago if someone would’ve come up to me to tell me that he’d finally approach me and even ask to hang out, I would’ve laughed in their face.

“Oh, I’m Song Mingi, by the way.” He clumsily reached his hand out, staring at me expectantly. I was so used to his sharp gaze on me that I found myself holding his gaze with a wider smile now, grabbing his hand, and giving it a firm shake. Song Mingi didn’t have to know that I already knew more about him than I should’ve, considering the fact that we were strangers until now. Really, before you start calling me creepy and a stalker, social media exists these days. And let’s be honest, if a mildly attractive guy keeps staring at you every chance he gets, wouldn’t you also be even just a little bit curious about who he is? Call me a magician or simply skillful when it comes to finding people on social media, but it’s been over three months now that I have known his name, and, well, birthday. I might be one of those crazy astrology girls, huge emphasis on being sarcastic right now, astrology girls are awesome when they aren’t fighting demons and regretting every life choice upon one glance at one’s birth chart.

“Lovely finally knowing your name, Song Mingi,” I chuckled, releasing his hand, watching as his eyes widened a little bit, “Oh, you certainly can’t think I haven’t noticed you staring—”

“Oh, I’m sure you have!” Mingi cut me off, chuckling awkwardly, “I didn’t make it very subtle, to be fair.”

“Not at all.” I chuckled amused, flashbacks of his other three friends huddled around, as if we were in kindergarten or something, staring me down while I walked by with, of course, with Mingi in the middle, watching me with a blank face, fierce eyes boring into the back of my head, “I’m Y/N.”

“You have a beautiful name.” Well, perhaps that would’ve made me choke if I had been drinking something, but to my luck I wasn’t, and so I straightened my back, trying to fight off the shyness threatening to cage me in. So far, at least the very little I knew about Mingi by observing him back when he, miraculously, wasn’t paying attention to me, was that he was quiet. Withdrawn and a little even shy, perhaps, but mostly just content in his own world, unbothered by those around him. He rarely spoke, but when he did, I have noticed his friends fighting demons to not die from laughter. And if he turns out to be a funny guy, bingo, isn’t that what every girl wants?

“Thank you,” You have a beautiful face, but I can’t go saying that to him right away, right? “What do you have in mind? I mean, where do you want to hang out?”

And now let’s hope he’s not some dodgy psychopath who hates my loud laugh and made an elaborate plan to slaughter me the second he gets me alone.

“Would you like to go to a coffee shop or would you prefer walking?” Mingi proposed with a gentle smile, his rather sharp features looking dangerously soft and warm as another blush threatened to flush over his cheeks. If he kept on blushing, I might just die from cuteness aggression, “The weather is really nice today…”

It is, but not nicer than you, Song Mingi, “It is, let’s go for a walk, maybe?”

“A walk it is, then.” Mingi sealed the deal with a firm nod of his head, and I couldn’t help but giggle, trying to remind myself that this was really happening and I wasn’t in some alternate universe, or even in dreamland. Wouldn’t be too surprising if this interaction was just a fraction of my imagination; my mind is a scary place when it becomes delusional.

“Would you like to go to the park up on the hill?” That was the nicest park in our city, and well, at this time of hour it was littered with just the perfect amount of people to not become bothersome, but neither scarce. Not that I have trust issues—I do—but this is a complete stranger I just accepted to hang out with, and quite shockingly, I do not wish to become the next true crime topic of some youtuber.

“It’s a lovely spot, but…” Mingi suddenly looked slightly embarrassed as he ruffled his silver-blonde hair, rings glinting deliciously under the sunlight, “it’s a bit far from our university and…I don’t have a car.”

I quickly waved the ridiculous words away as I watched Mingi become more embarrassed, “Don’t worry about it, I have one. We can still go.”

“But…I don’t want you to use fuel just for us to—” I reached out as I grabbed his arm, the sudden physical contact stunning Mingi into silence. Oh, did he also feel the charged spark and instant butterflies taking off in my stomach? Or was I starting to like this guy without actually getting to know him first…

“While fuel is expensive, I love to drive.” I smiled sweetly at him as Mingi licked his tasty looking lips; I can’t seriously think they are tasty when it’s our first time talking, “So don’t worry about it.”

“Are you sure?” His eyebrows furrowed just slightly as he nervously chewed on his lower lip. I nodded and grinned at him, probably doing something no sane person would’ve done. But I have stopped caring a long time ago about what others consider sane or not. Rising on my tiptoes, I slung an arm around Mingi’s shoulders and yanked his head down, just a little closer to my face as I nodded enthusiastically. The way his face became red shouldn’t have made me feel so giddy.

“Extra super-duper sure, Mingi.” He chuckled and poked my cheek, I guess it was my turn being taken by surprise. We stood like two idiots grinning at each other as I released him and he took a step back, running his fingers through his silver-blonde hair again, drawing my attention to it once again. Oh, how could I have forgotten? He was a Leo, was he waiting for my compliment? But before that, I was curious about one thing, “Hey, why do you always stare at me?”

Mingi’s face went blank for a second and it made me think that perhaps now is when his psychotic side comes to light, meaning I would dodge a bullet quite early on, but no, he rubbed his lips with two fingers nervously and averted his eyes, “Uh, well…obviously I’m into you. I mean, you know, why else would I stare at you so much?”

Oh, and he’s blunt. Don’t you just love a man who gets straight to the point?

“Because you’re a psycho who hates my guts and imagines how to kill me any time he sees me?” I offered another option, and watched as Mingi’s eyes widened to the point they would pop.

“No!” He exclaimed, almost looking scared himself, “God, no! You’re pretty, and attractive, and you caught my eye a long time ago, I was just too much of a chicken to approach you before.”

“Well, what changed?” I raised an eyebrow, and Mingi scratched his nape awkwardly.

“Uh, my friends threatened to tell you if I didn’t do it myself.” I chuckled and motioned for him to follow me as I started walking towards the parking lot of our university.

“Took them long enough,” I muttered under my breath, but Mingi’s eyes fixated on me as he heard me, “Well, Mingi, I also must admit you’ve caught my eye. Mainly because you staring so much made me feel uncomfortable until I got used to it, but…you’re quite handsome yourself upon a closer look, I must admit.”

Mingi chuckled, shooting me an amused lopsided smirk, “Means I’ve got a chance.”

“Means you’ve got a chance.” I looked at him with a grin, our gazes locking for a few seconds.

To date or not to date a Leo, is today’s question.

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[hopefulromances]

Long Time Coming I Chapter Twelve I Haunted

Summary: Being hired as the first female assistant coach in the league was a challenge of it itself. Being a football protigy and University Football Legend was easy enough. Coaching Jamie Tartt was a challenge all on its own.

Word Count: 3K

Warning: Gross ex,West Ham

A/N: Lets learn a little more about readers past eh? Next chapter rlly gets things going I promise!

Prologue One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven

West Ham was a big game. A really big game. A game I think each of us were dreading the game. But for me… it was another one of my secrets.  Matthew Kristal was a forward on West Ham. Had been for years. And he’d been my boyfriend throughout uni. He was much much older than me but he approached me after a game and told me all the things I wanted to hear. I was special, something he’d never seen before, so mature for my age. All the normal bullshit you hear from guys twice your age.

We dated for years. Actually, until very recently. When I told him I was looking at taking a job at Richmond, he changed. He told me not to, that I should just let him take care of me. Obviously, I’d told him that he was bullshit. I left him after that, and I hadn’t seen him since. He’d texted me several times offering advice or telling me how sorry he was. But thanks to the family I’d found at Richmond, specifically Keeley Jones, I didn’t feel the need to text him back.

But now I’d be face to face with him again. And that’s ignoring the feud with Nate and Rupert that was hanging over everyone’s head. I listened to Roy and Beard squabble over what strategy to do against West Ham. I knew it didn’t matter either way. We’d end up doing whatever Zava wanted, probably a 4-4-2 or 4-5-1. Anything to get him in position to score.

As I watched them uninterested, my phone buzzed on the table. I flipped my phone over and saw a text from an unknown number.

            Hey, hope you’re doing well. Looking forward to seeing you this weekend.

I scrolled up but didn’t see any past messages from this person. Luckily the person followed up quickly.

            It’s Matt, btw, got a new phone.

God fucking damnnit. Of course, he was texting me now. I looked around, making sure I wasn’t needed before grabbing my phone and rushing out of the room. I sent Keeley a text to see if she’d be coming by the club later, which she was.

            “Fuck me,” I muttered, running a hand through my hair.

A commotion from the locker room caught my attention. I shoved my phone in my pocket and decided that whatever was going on in there was the perfect distraction.

            “Oi, what’s going on in here?” I demanded as I walked into the room.

            “Isaac’s tried to kill me is what’s going on,” Jamie exclaimed, backing away from his captain.

            “Guys I think someone ripped this in half,” Bumbercatch’s comment caused me to look over at the wall. In his hand was half of the believe sign, the other half still up on the wall. My eyes widened as I walked over to his side.

            “What the hell…” I murmured, taking the piece of the sign from him. It was just a sign, I tried to tell myself. It’s just a sign it doesn’t mean anything. I looked at the boys who started to crowd around us. “Well, just fix it, alright?”

I shoved the sign back into Bumbercatch’s chest before leaving the room. Suddenly it as very hard to breath. But what if was a real sign. Like an actual sign. I mean what are the chances that Matthew texts me and then just a few minutes later the Believe sign falls.

…

I recount the events to Keeley as she arrived at the club. I told her about the sign and Zava and the intensity about the game but hadn’t had the chance to bring up Matt quite yet when we arrived at the locker room.

            “But the sign fell, Keeley,” I whined, following her. “Wait, why are we going in here?”

            “Oh! I’m visiting Shandy, she’s filming a promo for Bantr!” Keeley told me.

I racked my head trying to remember who Shandy was. “She’s the one who threaten to run around the pitch with her top off, yeah?”

            “Well, it was more of a suggestion than a threat.”

            “It was definitely a threat.”

We entered the room just as Dani was finishing up his segment. Keeley greeted Shandy as my eyes flited around the room. It was weird seeing it all done up for filming. The boys were excited to do this filming but.I think they had a secret bet going to see who could say the most ridiculous pick up line.

            “You don’t know who I am, but I’m looking for someone who likes short walks on the beach so we can spend more time, you know…”

God that was terrible, I chuckled as they called cut. As Van Damme walked out, Jamie was up next. Fuck, I forgot he had to do this. It was the club’s single guys and Jamie was, to the masses, single.

            “He’s so fucking hot,” Shandy’s compliment sent a ping of jealousy through me. “What’s his story.”

            “Jamie?” Keeley replied. “Oh, he’s so cocky.”

All three of us stared at the monitor as Jamie had hair and make-up work on him. He was smiling kindly and making chat with the makeup artist. 

            “But I guess you have to be at this level,” Keeley continued, finding herself smiling at him. “But he only thinks about himself.”

I shook my head absentmindedly as I watched him. No, he didn’t. Jamie was kind and funny, and always checking in on me when we were together.

            “At least, he used to. But he’s not accountable for his actions and what they do to others.”

Again, I shook my head silently. It was crazy. The different side of Jamie that I’d seen as his girlfriend. A side that no one else got to see. It was all mine.

            “Except he is getting better at making apologies. Still… he only thinks with his dick.”

Finally, Jamie looked over at us and I could tell he saw me. I refused to look up over the monitor as a cheeky smile came over his lips. I bit my lip, trying to hard not to have any kind of reaction.

            “And yet, I don’t think he’s seen anyone in ages.”

I couldn’t help it anymore; I looked up over the monitor and saw Jamie staring right at me. I chewed on my cheek, trying to stave off the blush. He sent me a wink before turning back to the make-up artist.

            “I just wanna know if I can bang him, babe.”

Fuck, I forgot Shandy was even there. I frowned and looked over at her, a heat in my eyes I wasn’t used to. So this was jealousy was like. I was really willing to risk it all if she made any moves towards Jamie.

            “Oh. I don’t know,” Keeley answered. I still hadn’t taken my eyes of Shandy, watching as she stared hungrily at Jamie. “You should probably as him, it’s his dick.”

I ran  my tongue along the space between my teeth and bottom lip, trying desperately not to say anything.

            “Alright, I should probably be getting going,” I announced, deciding that this was too much for me.

            “Wait, didn’t you have something you wanted to-“

            “Nope, I’ll see you later Keels.”

I turn around before she can say anything else, not really wanting to stay in that room any longer than I had to. I realized that there was only one person I wanted to talk to about this Matt situation, and he was currently sitting in the locker room getting his make-up done for a dating app commercial.

…

Jamie and I sat in is backyard. He had these lounging chairs set up in his backyard where we could sit together while I caught up on work or read. He had a hand running up and down my leg as he read The Beautiful and Damned.

I looked over at him as he read peacefully. I was hesitant to talk to him, worried about what he would say or how he would react or what it would do to us to bring up Matt. I’d managed to make it two whole years without even thinking about him but with one little text his control over my life was back.

            “Remember how you asked why I stopped playing football?”

Jamie glanced up from his book over at me. “What?”

            “Do you know Matt Kristal?”

Jamie furrowed his eyebrows and put down his book, shrugging. “He’s on West Ham, yeah? One of their defenders?”

I nodded, looking down at my chair, picking at a piece of plastic that was sticking out. “He and I dated for a while when I was in uni.”

Jamie’s face should be in a museum. It was a mixture of curiosity, confusion, and was that… jealousy? He turned to look at my fully, his eyes looking far too serious.

            “What? Really?” He asked. “Isn’t he like… nearly 40?”

            “Yup.” I nodded, still not able to really face Jamie. “He came to watch me play in uni. Told me all those nice things like… you’re talented and mature and whatever.” I shook my head remember the first time I met him. “Anyways, we dated for about… 3 years?”

            “Fuck off,” Jamie scoffed, putting the book to the side.

            “I wish I were joking but he… he was quite the charismatic person,” I told him solemnly.  “Anyways, when it came time for me to graduate… I told him I wanted to play professionally and he… he told me I shouldn’t. That there was no glory in women’s football.” I scrunched my nose. “So, he lined up a job as West Ham’s kitman and I worked there until… until I saw the job at Richmond.” I moved my head side to side, considering all my words. “And he told me not to take it.” I laughed humorlessly. “Told me I’d be making a mistake. Well, he broke up with me after that. Told me I would crash and burn along with all of Richmond. Then I’d come running back to him.”

I stared at that piece of plastic I was picking, chewing the skin off my lip. I hadn’t talked about Matt with anyone since I came to Richmond. That time in my life was filed away, along with my father. But the people at Richmond had a way of opening me up like no one else.

            “What a cocksleeve.” Jamie’s response drew a laugh from me. “I mean really. What a mingin’ asstawt. Got a right cop on, don’t he.” With every ridiculous insult I found myself laughing harder and harder. Despite the tension leaving my chest slowly, I still found myself unable to look at me. That is until Jamie’s hand slide down to mind, preventing me from tearing up the chair. “Hey, look at me.”

I pursed my lips and forced my head to turn to face him. He had an eyebrow raised at me as he smirked. “Your better for it without him. He was holding you back ‘cause he knew you were better than him. Kristal… I mean he’s been on West Ham for a decade now… barely made a mark on the league.”

            “Well, he’s no Jamie Tartt, that’s for sure,” I commented, smiling.

            “Hey, I’m serious,” Jamie sat up and pulled me, so our legs were slotted with each other. I was caught off guard by his serious demeanor. “You’re better than him. I promise.”

It wasn’t like Jamie to ignore a compliment. My mouth opened slightly as a breath of disbelief came out of my mouth. Both of his hands rested on my knees, rubbing soft comforting circles into them. I blinked repeatedly, shaking my head. I was getting off topic.

            “I just… I wanted to let you know that he texted me about seeing me this weekend.”

            “HA! Like that’s gonna happen,” Jamie laughed, shaking his head.

            “Yeah, no it won’t but… I just wanted to let you know,” I shrugged. “And I know there’s a lot riding on this game so I don’t mean to add to that but I-“

            “No, thank you for telling me. Now I know who to score on the most.” He reached over and grabbed my waist, hoisting me up before laying down with me on top of him. “You wanna have sex?”

I would never get used to that. But I merely answered his question by leaning down to kiss Jamie into the chair. I felt lighter. Knowing I had gotten it off my chest. Even if it did nothing, I had Jamie’s support and that was enough for me.

…

The game was a mess. The first half was bad enough but after the half… it was like an entirely new team. They were angry, something about Beard and Roy showing them a video, I wasn’t paying attention. I was too busy avoiding Matt like the plague. But luckily for me, he seemed to get the hint and didn’t approach me at all. That was, until after the game.

I was leaving the locker room to head towards the bus when he finally caught up to me.

            “(Y/N)!”

I heard his voice before I saw him. But when I did, I wasn’t surprised. He hadn’t changed at all. He looked the exact same as he had those years ago when I’d walked out of his house with him screaming at me that I would be nothing without him. I let him catch up to me.

            “Some match, eh?” Matt chuckled, a cruel smirk on his face. I didn’t respond, not wanting to say something I regret. “Hey, why don’t we get a drink or something? Catch up, for old times’ sake?”

            “I’m good.” I shut him down quickly. I knew what that meant. It meant that he would take me out, get me tipsy then convince me to have sex with him and there was no way that was happening.

He frowned at me. That same disappointed frown I’d gotten all too used to when we were together. “Look (Y/N), I don’t want to try anything I just want to-“

            “Is there something you wanted to say, or can I get back to my team?” Again, I really don’t want to hear what he has to say. I don’t really want to hear his sorry apology or whatever manipulation tactic he could draw up.

            “I just wanted to say sorry, okay?” He pulled his most genuine face that he could, but I just shook my head. Nonetheless, he persisted. “I was a dick, and you were right. You’ve done great at Richmond but listen… you could do better. I bet I could get Rupert to hire you here… at West Ham.”

Jamie emerged from the locker room, walking towards the bus with his head low. He was pissed. Pissed at the game, pissed at Zava, pissed at Nate. The whole game had gone wrong so fast. If only he’d made that goal in the first half but, of course, he whiffed it, leaving room for Zava to take some glory.

When he walked down the hall, he immediately spied (Y/N) talking with Matt. Now he was pissed at that. He could tell she was uncomfortable. Body science. The way she griped her bag and frowned at him as he chatted at her. He needed to get her out of there and fast but without drawing suspicion. He glanced around to see who else was there. Colin was exiting the locker room just at that moment, busy on his phone.

            “Oi, Colin.” He nodded over to where (Y/N) and Matt were talking.  “Why’s (Y/N) talking to Matt Kristal?”

Colin looked over where he was pointing, and his eyes darkened. Just as he thought, (Y/N) probably told Colin about her past.

            “Fuck if I know, give me a second.” And Colin was off going to interrupt them.

Jamie tried to walk off slowly, watching as Colin approached her. He put an arm around her, taking Matt’s attention off of her. (Y/N)’s face immediately flooded with relief with Colin arrived. Jamie felt better knowing that Colin was there to support her. He wasn’t sure what they were talking about but all he wanted was to get home and be with (Y/N) somewhere they could be together.

…

When Jamie arrived home (Y/N) was already there. She was standing, seemingly stuck in her own brain staring at the wall. Jamie frowned and walked up to her, wrapping his arms around his waist and kissing her cheek. She gasped and jumped, finally broken from her trance.

            “Fuck me!” She shouted, relaxing back into Jamie. “You scared me.”

            “Sorry, love,” He mused against her cheek. ��Just finally glad to be able to hold you.” She smiled though it didn’t quite meet her eyes. “What was he talking to you about?”

            “Who?”

            “Kritsal?”

            “You saw that?”

            “Course! Who do you think sent Colin over?” Jamie snickered, pulling away from her and walking over to the kitchen. “Do you want some tea?”

            “Wait, wait, wait,” she followed Jamie as he began taking out the kettle. “You saw Max talking to me and didn’t come over to intervene?”

Jamie shrugged, taking out two mugs. “I’m making you tea. And yeah, I figured Colin knew more about the situation and he did so, crisis avoided.” The look she gave Jamie was almost heartbreakingly beautiful. There was so much love and passion in her eyes that is shocked Jamie a little bit. “What… did I do something wrong?”

            “Oh, Jamie.” She pulled him down by his neck and kissed him. Jamie let out a noise of shock before quickly setting down the mugs so he could wrap his arms around her. He held her close. While he was strong enough not to intervene earlier, he wanted her to know that he had her back and that she was his.

Just as much as he was hers.

Tag List: Taglist:@heletsmelovehim @higherthanheroes @ajax-petropolus-wife @oxxolovemelikeyoudooxxo @optimisticsandwichgladiator @kno-way-home @sleepy-time @wigglegiggle @skewedcherries @respondingtoshowerthoughts-blog @snubug @rana030 @ems-alexandra @jaymum

[jeanystillbeany]

BillFord Fic

I haven’t gotten invited to ao3 yet so I’ll just post it here anyway. It doesn’t have a name so I’ll just post a teaser or whatever. Idfk. It’s a billford fic ig. As soon as I get ao3 I’ll post it on there. I do have more written. I’m just taking the first part for a test drive. Let me know ur thoughts! (Literally anything- name suggestions scene suggestions, if i should post it on ao3, explanations etc.)

Entry 167: Series 6

  Out of all the curiosities I’ve studied in my travels, this has to be one of the most shocking enigmas yet.  This timeline had the bottom story of the shack left with two gaping holes at the top.  In fact, it’s as though the shack grew legs and walked away.  Which is completely bizarre- even for a weirdness magnet such as Gravity Falls, Oregon.  The countless timelines I’ve visited so far were nowhere near this level of insanity.  This level of… intrigument.  The state of the timeline has this enrapturing effect on me.  

  Recently the timelines I’ve been traveling through have had a different variable.  Two in fact.  As it turns out, me and my brother have a great-grandniece and nephew.  Dipper and Mabel.  While I’ve been careful to not interact with any timelines I’ve found myself caught up in (especially after that incident with the Time Police), I still somehow find myself growing attached to the two.  For the past few months I’ve been observing them through the different timelines I’ve traveled to.  There has also been the reoccurring pattern of their other ‘Gruncle’ re-emerging from the same portal I find myself appearing from every few days.  I’ve been waiting… counting down the days til it’s my turn.  And yet, I still don’t understand why I continue to keep that false hope in my pocket.  The multiverse is infinite.  The chances of me ever finding my home universe is nearly pointless.  While I could always take the place of another Stanford… The Time Police would be on my case in a second.  I also understand that the multiverse I was sent to wasn’t the same one as the other Stanfords.  While I’m dealing with infinites of my brother, they were dealing with beasts beyond basic human comprehension… and yet I’d much rather that than to be cursed knowing I’d never get home.  To see Dipper and Mabel fail… over and over… with myself unable to assist… sometimes I thought it was driving me mad.  

  I’ve certainly spent more time reciting the last few entries than I should’ve.  So I shall continue with the present.  The shambles of my lab have made for an adequate shelter.  (Save for the 2 overgrown hairless mole rats I’ve needed to fight off for my rations).  The sky appears to be a blood red, many of the familiar surrounding trees were reduced to brambles, probably by some larger species I’d like to take the time to investigate at a later hour.  This area has been intensely modified compared to the other Gravity Falls I’ve been in.  I have a hunch this is due to the large vortex that ripped through the dimension.  (That was in fact sarcasm my dear reader).  So far I’ve studied and dissected one of those overgrown Eye-Bats that can turn a person to stone just by looking at them.  From memory; I will promise they were much smaller and could not turn one to stone in my own timeline.  Why would anyone feel the need to weirdify these anomalies?  Some sort of apocalypse has settled over this world.  Whether or not it was always like this is unknown.  I’m leaning towards the latter though.  I shortly ran out of things to do after examining my last two specimens and I itched for more information on these preternatural creatures. 

Ford sat in what was left of his desk chair and kicked his feet up.  He would kill for a mug of coffee right now.  

Ford ran a hand through his hair.  Since the portal incident, he’s grown it out. He’s grateful he didn’t cut it when he could.  It more than likely would’ve exaggerated the up and coming gray hair.  Though… he shouldn’t exactly care how he looks because he’s not supposed to be seen in other timelines according to the Time Police.  In the end, he still does get a fond satisfaction of knowing he’s at least well kept.  And mistakes happen.  He continues to have the same clothing pattern of turtle necks- though he only ever wears them underneath his long coat.  It proved to be very useful when traveling timelines.  The amount of pockets he had to keep so many samples in almost seemed like cheating.  He also always had his bag with him.  Most of his pockets aren’t big enough for his journal, and he’s filled up a couple while he was traveling timelines.  His love of pockets also extended to his lower half making sure to have maximum pockets on his cargo pants.  He even bothered with a hidden one in his shoe for an emergency lock pick.  If that wasn’t enough, his obsession with Sci-Fi led to him wanting to live it to its full extent, so naturally he put knives in both heels of his boots as well.  

  Normally he’d care that there were some contaminated combat boots being rubbed all over his desk.  But now?  He thought he might as well embrace the end of the world.  He loved his family to death, but if any of them saw him in a timeline other than his origin the whole universe would collapse in on itself, and they would be the ones dead.  Ford could always scramble back to his portal and go to the next timeline.  According to the Time Police that is.   Though there have been many instances where he has intervened in his earlier days with no consequence.  

  The man mindlessly fiddled with his gun on the inside pocket of his coat.  He wanted to study more.  Maybe the giant gash in the sky was the root of his greatest mystery!  He unhooked his heels from the edge of his desk and swung them around towards the bunker hatch.  He pushed himself off from the armrests of the chair.  Stanford climbed up the ladder and popped his head out of the bunker.  He supposed the first step would be to find a lookout point.  If he was lucky he might be able to stay in one place long enough to do a quick sketch of this timeline’s situation.  The first place Stanford’s mind drifted was his abandoned UFO- though it was identified and no longer flying, so he dubbed it the alien spacecraftt.  It gave a perfect view of the entire town and was rather close to his current position.  Ford gave a once over of everything in his satchel.  He plucked out his journal in order to sift through the small bit of food, water and any other trinkets he had before neatly replacing it and went on his way.  

  As Ford traveled he kept a hand on his gun.  Aside from the terrors the scientist was getting antsy to encounter, he was the only other sound he heard.  His boots trudged along the ground -making distinct squishing sounds- as though he were walking in his own wet socks.  The ground beneath him was unnaturally wet causing the uncomfortable feeling.  There was the occasional shuffle as he adjusted his jacket to the odd temperatures.  Ford made a mental note to journal about the seemingly miniature air masses that drastically changed the temperatures in as little as every few feet he walked.  The long coat was currently adjusted to be draped over his shoulders, as Ford found this to be a happy medium and made a constant grip on his gun easier.  

  A rumble struck the ground just as Ford’s own foot hit the earth.  The man felt a jitter course through him, crawling up his spine.  

  “Another weirdness wave!”  The man exclaimed with much more enthusiasm than anyone else trapped in this hell bubble ever would.  He licked the first two of his fingers and raised them up in the air, turning them at different angles until he found the direction that gave his moistened fingers the most chill.  After finding the wind direction he quickly hid behind a tree and scrambled through his bag.  His six-fingered hand reemerged with a sort of hand made device.  It was made from old lab parts created during his first few days in this timeline.  It allowed him to calculate the intensity of the weirdness wave and further study its properties.  He carefully placed the machine away from the cover of the tree and braced himself for things to get weird.  

  The wave passed over Stanford relatively easily and he observed no mutations to himself.  Stanford went to pick up his wave reader when- 

  “Oh.  How peculiar… Shit.”  The man’s handmade invention had grown to compete with the surrounding forest’s pine trees.  For a moment the Author thought that he would be unable to run.  For a moment the Author believed he was frozen in time.  For a moment he saw himself as a child.  For a moment he saw his brother.  For a moment he saw the twins.  

  Stanford found the right gears that made the joints in his legs move.  This was no longer his invention.  It had grown six legs of its own.  The calculator screen that was once used as a makeshift reader display was its mouth and the antenna was its tongue.  Ford was tempted to take a picture, though he doubted such would be worth his life.  He raced through the forest.  It was almost as if its size grew due to this oddity apocalypse.  The scientist didn’t have a chance.  Every time he heaved himself over a log, the creature could bash itself right through it after him.  He needed to think of something… he’d kill to meet his niece and nephew.  

  The Author took out his loaded gun as he ran through the brambles.  He took a sharp turn, causing the monster to slide in an effort to regain its balance.  Ford began to aim as the creature was tipped onto its side.  It landed with a loud thump, causing multiple mutated birds to fly away startled.  Stanford lowered his gun and stood stunned in front of his creation, as its legs flailed about, damaging the surrounding shrubbery.  

  “Intriguing!”  Ford quickly snapped a picture.  As much as he’d like to inspect the helpless thing more, he deemed it safer to continue with his original task.  He would’ve stayed longer if one of the monster’s legs didn’t reach out and claw at his coat, tearing it down its side.  A bit closer and the scientist would’ve been seriously injured.   He jumped back and continued with his task of sketching this new timeline.  He also made a mental note to log his encounter in the journal when he was in the clear.  

~

  He finally made it to the spacecraft.  Ford would definitely consider using this as a hideout in this world.  Contrary to Ford’s belief, the state of this timeline was only in Gravity Falls.  He remembers studying the Natural Law of Weirdness Magnetism as a younger man, but he never believed it could affect anything to this extent.  Ford sat down atop the spacecraft.  He snapped a picture of the surrounding scene.  

Entry 167 B. Series 6

  There seemed to be a large barrier encasing Gravity Falls.  More than likely the Natural Law of Weirdness Magnetism.  I’ve studied the topic before and have come up with a simple equation to break it.  The scene before me is both exhilarating and dread ensuing.  To even think about the situations my brother and the kids have gone through haunts me.  I want nothing more than to be able to talk with them.  Even if it’s not my universe.  I want to hear their stories and watch them grow up… I wish for my own universe.  I’ve traveled the timelines for much too long.  I’ve watched them.  But I want to see them.  To meet my Mabel, my Dipper, my Stanley.  I want to meet my family.  But where would I even start?  The time police?

  I looked off to the sunless horizon and noticed a large pink orb sitting dead center of the train tracks with Mabel’s zodiac on it.  My breathing sputtered.  Just what were these kids into this timeline?  I decided it’d be best to head back to the lab.  I’d like to be there when the portal reopens.  

   Maybe… maybe I can try one more time.  My sentence is already high enough as it is with the Time Police… I want to help my niece and nephew… no matter what universe they’re in.  There has to be a reason the Time Police aren’t on my tail by now… especially after that monster was created.  I’ll spend the night at the lab again and work on relocating to the spacecraft tomorrow.  Then I’ll find my brother.  

  Ford replaced his bookmark into his journal and brushed himself off.  He stood up on the roof of the dead spaceship and gave one last glance at the world he found himself in before beginning the few hour trek to where the Mystery Shack once stood.  Stanford was nearly to his hideout. About where he left the wave reading monster.  There was one problem that had unnerved the Author for more than one reason.  A question that bubbled out of his mouth as soon as he seen the large clearing in the trees where the monster had been discarded.  

  “Where is it?” His question was shortly answered as a screech was heard not too far behind him.  

  “Fuck!  Are you Serious?!”  The scientist grumbled and quickened his pace.  It was following him.  Either it had extremely sensitive hearing or it was tracking him by scent.  Whatever the case was, his hands itched to jot it down in his journal.  He didn’t have much time for that as he found himself being chased by the beast once again.  Ford continued to race to the lab and attempted to slide into the underground space.  The mechanical creature’s claw lurched out and nicked his back, sending him flying forward and creating another large hole in the roof.  He landed ungraciously on the floor of his lab with a groan.  As a last resort Ford turned over on his back and began shooting wildly through the crack.  The mechanical anomaly screeched as it was shot at, retreating immediately.  Ford felt the back of his coat begin to soak and his vision blur.  The tips of his finger began to numb as his arm fell to the ground. 

   With one last screech, a fourth hole was punctured into the top of the lab, right over the portal, leaving Ford’s escape in shambles.  He would’ve screamed, or yelped with his hand held out dramatically as any Author such as himself would, but that was the last sight seen before he passed out completely.  

~

  “Do you think it’s dead?”  

  “I say we eat it”

  “Dudes.  Is it just me?  Or does it kinda look like Mr. Pines.” 

  “Soos.  It has SIX FINGERS!  SIX!  It had to be some sort of clone… or- or… imposter.”  Pages began to flip in the background of the following commotion.  Quiet muttering was also heard following each turn of paper- though it was mostly blocked out by the pounding in Ford’s head.  

  “Mr. Pines… do you… know anything about this?”  Ford was becoming conscious enough to pick out voices.  This seemed to be the only female among the group.  

  “Stanford…?” This was a new voice.  Much older than the others.  It wavered as it said his name- effectively snapping him out of the painful slumber he was in.  

  Ford started with a groan and his eyes squinted shut, adjusting to the abnormal light- even for the living world.  In this universe that is.  

  “Dudes.  It’s waking up.”  Ford mumbled and rubbed his head.  Thankfully the wound on his back didn’t go that deep into his back.  Though the semi-dried blood latching the fabric of his coat to himself was very uncomfortable.  

  “Sixer!”  Stanford opened his eyes just in time to see the back of a tacky red hat by the side of his head.  Arms enveloped his shoulders partially helping Ford keep himself up.  

  “Stanley…”  The scientist just barely breathed out.  

  “STANLEY?!”  Ford couldn’t be bothered to look up from his brother’s shoulder at the other’s exclaimation

  “Is anyone else confused right now?  Cause I’m confused.” Soos commented.  Stanley sighed before releasing his disoriented brother.  

  “Kids, Soos, I want you to meet… the author of the journals.”  Stan was hesitant to let go of his brother, as though if he let go of his brother’s shoulder he’d disappear back into the fabrics of existence.  Dipper did an excited squeal and almost ran up to properly greet his practical obsession, but Wendy put a calm hand on his shoulder to stop him from ruining the two brothers' moment.  She decided she needed more context with her boss’ secret twin before Dipper butted in.  

  “Stanley.  I need- I need to tell you something.”  Stanford’s voice wavered with guilt.  As multiple scenarios ran through his head.  More than likely this wasn’t his universe.  He doesn’t know what happened to his own timeline, or this one… though it’s not like he can continue traveling timelines with the portal busted.  Ford opened his mouth to speak- but no sound came out as a thought surfaced to his head.  

  ‘…what if this is my timeline?  What if the portal busted for a reason?  Maybe… I can stay a while.  They need my help…’

  “Yeah?”  Stanley asked- a small smile almost suppressed on his face.  

  “…I missed you.” Ford sighed out.  He pulled Stan back into him.  The other man slapped his back playfully with a goofy grin.  Ford winced and let out a small yelp.  

  “Oh… forgot about that.  Welp.  I smiled too little in the past 3 weeks to smile this much now.  Let’s get back to the shack.”  As if on queue, an ominous roar shook the ground under them. 

  “Agreed.” Wendy said.  

  “Yup, yup, yup, let’s go!”  Soos hauled Dipper over his shoulder and sprinted out of the Lab and everyone else followed.  Ford found himself lingering for a moment- his eyebrows furrowed as he stared at the remains of his portal.  It’s gone.  It’s all gone.  

  “Hey, bro.  Let’s get out of here, ‘k?”  Stanley put his hand on Ford’s shoulder, offering a hopefully comforting smile.  

  “We have a lot to talk about Stanley…” Similar to any other earth tremble, the earth shook following the signs of a beast approaching.  

  “Yeah, yeah.  Can we do that later?”  Stanley tugged his brother along by the back of his coat leading him out of the lab.  Stanford followed behind- occasionally wincing from the pulling on his jacket.  

[orangeinecstasy]

pool party ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ eli hewson

paring: eli x fem!oc

summary: eli reconnects with an old friend.

wc: 2k

*reblogs, notes, and feedback are greatly appreciated!!

Heat wafted in through my room's open window. It was the middle of summer, and the heat hadn't dissipated for the past few days. I was finally back home from university, but all I could do was lay in bed and feel like I would melt. A fan blew in my direction, causing the edges of the pages of the book I read to flutter gently. As I scanned the page, there was a soft knock at my door. 

"Yeah?" I bent the corner of the reading page, then shut the book. That's when Ryan, my brother, cracked the door open, slipping his head through the slit. "Hey Liz, Eli is throwing a little party later. Tonight want to come?" 

Thinking momentarily, I nod, "Yeah, that could be fun." 

"Okay, cool, I'll let him know. Just wear a bathing suit or something because we'll be using the pool." 

"Will do."

Ryan left with a nod, shutting the door behind him. I pulled a pillow behind my body, pressing my face into it and screaming.

I had been in love with Eli for what had felt like my whole life. Even if I tried to date someone, my heart always ended up going back to him. However, when I got into university, it was finally my chance to get away from him. It's not that he was this crazy horrible person. He was one of the sweetest, more caring people that I knew. But I just needed to find myself a little more. Last summer, I went to Italy and worked with a fantastic group of archeologists looking for early Roman artifacts. It was the best couple of months of my life, but because of that, I couldn't come home for a year. This meant a year away from Eli, and if I was honest with myself, I didn't know how my heart would react when I saw him tonight. 

Even though the party wasn't until later, I decided it would be a good idea if I picked out what I would wear now. Getting up, I tossed the pillow I was holding back onto the bed, then walked over to my dresser and rummaged through my bathing suits. I finally decided on a light green bikini with baby pink flower stitching across the bottoms and neckline hem. I wore one of Ryan's old band T-shirts and shorts as a cover-up. I put my long curls into a braid, deciding not to put on makeup out of pure laziness. 

A few hours later, I heard Ryan yell my name from downstairs. "Liz, if you don't get down here in the next five minutes, I'm leaving without you." I pulled my other shoe out from under my bed, slipped it on, and tied it. "Jesus, I'm coming. Just give me a sec!" I respond, grabbing my phone. I shove it in my back pocket before scanning the room to make sure I'm not forgetting anything, then running downstairs. "Is that my shirt?" Ryan said as he grabbed the car keys, his eyebrow cocking, "Oh my god, Ryan, let's fucking go!" I shove his shoulder gently, pushing him towards the door. 

Entering the backyard, I could feel the music from the speakers pulsing through the ground. My breath caught in my throat as I realized how many people there were. "I thought you said this would be a small party?" I yelled over the music at Ryan, who, as I spoke, was bending down to hear me more clearly. "That's what I was told," he shrugged, patting me on the shoulder. "I'm going to go find the guys," he said, disappearing into the swarm of people. 

"Fuck, I need a drink," I mumbled, then pushed through the crowd. As I moved through the crowd, a pair of deep brown eyes locked with mine, quickly growing wide with confusion and amazement. Eli's lips moved, but I couldn't understand what he said. My throat got dry, and I quickly looked away, pretending I didn't notice it was him. I pushed deeper into the crowd until I reached where the drinks were, rummaging through one of the coolers until I found a hard seltzer flavor I liked. Cracking it open, I took a few swigs from it before I felt a tap on my shoulder. 

My heart got tight as I turned around. Thankfully I was met with the smiling face of Anais Gallagher. "Liz! I thought that was you. It's so good to see you!" She hugged me, her cold beer can pressing against my back. "Why don't we move somewhere less crowded to talk?" Nodding, I followed her onto the patio, where only a few people were dotted around, a hot tub bubbling in one corner.

"How's Uni been treating you?" She leaned against the patio railing, taking a sip of her beer. "It's been amazing. I went to Italy last summer and love what I'm majoring in. But, honestly, it's just nice to get away from everything once in a while." I smiled a slight breeze that had picked up, tussling my curls. "That's really great to hear," Anais' smile got wider as she sat her beer can down on the railing, slipping her shirt off to reveal a pink and red patterned bikini. "Let's get in the hot tub while there's no one in it," She said, stepping into the warm bubbling water. I nod in agreement, slipping off my clothes and tossing them to the side before joining her. 

"Eli hasn't been able to shut up about you since Ryan said you were coming back home." Anais laughed, a hand pushing through her thick blond hair. "Ahh, really?" I glanced down at the top of my seltzer can before looking back at her, trying not to seem out of sorts at the mention of his name. "Ahh, sorry, love, did I hit a hard spot?" Her head tilted slightly, hadn't reached out, and gently touched my arm for comfort. "Hmm? No, don't worry about it." I smile, trying to convince myself what I said was true. 

Anais and I chatted for a while, the two of us catching up and laughing over old shared memories. Though it was nice, some of me just needed to get away for a bit. "Hey, I'm going to go for a smoke. I'll be right back," I said, setting down my empty can. "Do what you got to do!" She smiled, lifting her fresh can of beer to me as I exited the hot tub. 

I dried myself off with my t-shirt as best as possible before entering the house again. The crowd had grown in size, which made shoving through it even more difficult. I quickly climbed the stairs and entered the first room I could manage to get to. I shut the door behind me, closed my eyes, and took a deep breath. Once my eyes opened again, I realized that I had managed to end up in Eli's room. 

Though the room was dim, the only light coming from the party outside was just the same as I had last seen it. Clean, with posters, hung on the walls, guitars hung on the wall or resting on a stand, with boxes of records set next to an old record player. Bookshelves stuffed to the brim with literature, photos, and knickknacks. As I walked around the room, my feet pressed against the cold wooden floor, a picture on his dresser caught my eye. I picked it up and realized it was a picture of Eli and me together. It was during a trip that we had gone on together one summer. We stood there, the beach behind us, his arm wrapped around my waist as he looked down at me with a big smile. My hair was in a braid, and I had an equally as large smile on my face. The sundress I was wearing was paused in motion, presumably being swept up in the wind. 

I smiled, setting the picture back down, that's when the room filled with the light from the hallway, and I heard an all too familiar voice. "What are you doing in here?" Eli's silky voice cut into the silence of the room. I turned, my lower back pressed up against the dresser. "Sorry, I," I clear my throat, trying not to stumble through my words. "I just need to get away for a second." My arms wrapped around my bare midriff as I found the courage to look at him.

He was so beautiful. Plump lips, stubble, and those eyes always twinkled no matter how low the light was.

"Liz," he shut the door, then flicked on the lamp closest to him. "I didn't know it was you," his hand rubbed his nape as he made it over to the side of the room that I was on. "You look gorgeous," he smiled, his eyes filled with a slight sadness. "Thanks," I smiled weakly, trying to make this interaction as quick as possible. 

He had reached out but quickly dropped his hand to his side. "I missed you so much. It feels like it's been forever since I've last seen you," I nod, looking down as my eyes tear up. Soon enough, tears started to stream down my face. My hand quickly reached up, pushing them away, but it was useless. "Hey, hey, hey, you're okay," Eli's arms wrapped around me, pulling me close to his bare chest, a hand gently stroking my hair. "Look at me Liz," his voice was a gentle whisper. My crying had somewhat subsided, only a few loose tears slipping down my cheeks which Eli wiped away as I looked up at him.

"I'm sorry. I'm a mess. I didn't want it to be like this," I laugh, using the back of my hand to wipe under my eyes. "Like what?" his eyebrow cocks in confusion. "Like this! Me sobbing in your arms and you being you're perfect fucking self and making me fall in love with you all over again" The tension between us grows thick as I realize what I had just said. 

"Eli I-" my word are interrupted as Eli presses his lips to mine. I couldn't help but kiss back, my body melting into his effortlessly. "Liz, I've been in love with you for as long as I can remember," Eli's words were slightly muffled as he pulled away to speak, breath slightly heavy. I laugh, my hands cupping his face. "We're so fucking stupid," I roll my eyes playfully, pulling him back into the kiss. The two of us fall back onto the bed, Eli's scent consuming me as the kiss continues to deepen. 

My breath was heavy as Eli's lips moved down to my jaw, then my neck, leaving a trail of marks along my freckled skin. My hands were tangled in his curls, my body arching against him. He paused, dark eyes looking up at me. "Can I?" his eye's flashed down to my bathing suit top, then back at me. I nod, and he leans up, kissing me again as his hands slip behind my back to undo my top. 

"Eli, lad, what the fuck are you doing?" A slightly drunk Robert says he opens the door, the two of us quickly splitting apart and rushing to opposite sides of the bed. "Shit, my bad, carry on," Rob lifts his beer, laughing as he realizes what he had walked in on before closing the door. The two of us look at each other, our faces flushed with embarrassment before bursting into laughter.

Once the laughing subsided, Eli took my hand, thumb rubbing over my knuckles. "Elizabeth, I really love you," his eyes moved from our hand to look at me. "And I never want to be away from you for this long," his grip on my hand got tighter. "I don't either," I smile gently as I lean over, kissing him. "Let's just be together already." His smile grows wider as I speak. "You read my mind," he says as he pulls me onto his lap, leaning up to kiss me once more as the two of us fall back into the sheets.

a/n: this one honestly isn't my favorite. i love eli but i felt kind of off writing this. i hope you guys still enjoyed it!!

[snarky-wallflower]

for those who are lost at sea

Word Count: 2106

Hershey, sometimes I can barely get out of bed. Sometimes the only thing fueling me is the fact that my Satellite will save so many people like my father. That no one will ever be stranded out in the ocean, that deep blue sea that's deeper than any expanses of space to me. That no one will ever have to watch their father sink into those depths-- swallowed entirely. Watch him disappear, know that he didn't know his place in the world when he died. OR A letter Nova never sent to Hershey.

(A plaque, found at the Smithsonian National Museum of American History: 

A LETTER FROM DAME ANNA HANOVER, TO SIR JOHN HERSCHEL

September 1834

Measures 11 inches by 5 inches, 4 pages. Written using a black fountain pen (see exhibit 4), on parchment paper.  

This letter contains words from Dame Anna Hanover, seemingly never sent to her friend, Sir John Herschel, while he worked at The Cape of Good Hope. It is one of the only records we have on just why she decided to build the Satellite, a peek into the mind of a true scientific genius. It goes over her deep friendship with her scientific equal, and talks of her history previous to the Satellite’s construction.)

Dear Hershey, 

I can’t sleep. I’m writing because I hardly know what else to do about it. 

I know, I know–that’s hardly new for either of us, isn’t it? I remember when we used to take turns hauling each other off to sleep in university. Telling each other that the exams could wait, that we would fail either way if we were falling asleep in the middle of the lessons. You used to get this constipated expression as I had to tug at your coat in order to get you to rest. I’m half-convinced you still do—what I would give to have a portrait of it! It truly was a ridiculous look.

I suppose we both knew we’d never stop. But that didn’t mean we couldn’t get each other to take care of ourselves. 

I’m not with you, and I am awake. And since I cannot speak with you late into the night, distracting myself from such things, I must do the next best thing. I may not get your wry comments, or your half-laugh when I say something witty, or the way your brow furrows as you think over a problem I have proposed. All I have right now is this pen, and memories of those times. 

So, how is the Cape of Good Hope? How does your map of the stars fare? Do they invite you to those ridiculous parties there, all those stuffed shirts that hold our funding in their pockets? I don’t miss those parties. Honestly, you getting this project so far away truly has saved my soul there–

Oh. 

Oh, I don’t–I don’t know if I can continue pretending as if everything is normal. Even if only in a letter. My mind is a whirlwind, Hershey, and the only thing that even partially calms it is these words. Writing down, documenting what exactly has happened to me. 

I know exactly why I can’t sleep, and I just–

(The words become illegible here, through heavy scribbles.)

Damn it. 

I don’t plan to send this, so what should I care about here? It’s nothing but throwing my feelings into the void? I need to write this down, to say something about this before I scream aloud. 

Tonight was the anniversary of my Father’s death. 

And it was a day like any other. 

I didn’t even realise until halfway through the day. I was so caught up in checking the flywheels, making sure the bricks were not crumbling. Organising the workers, because you know I don’t rest when it comes to that. Tasks I’d completed a thousand times over, a steady routine. We’re still relatively well-staffed, so I was mostly just checking over work, encouraging the bricklayers. 

But, while I was in my place in the Township, I saw the sea from my window. 

I saw the waves swirling and rippling, and felt my heart freeze, icy seawater seeming to wave over my heart. 

I was thrown back to all those years ago. I feel I must have gone light-headed, as a thousand memories of that day burned through my mind in an instant. I don’t even remember the next couple of minutes–by the time I came back to myself, I was gasping on the chair of my room, trying to get back steady breath. 

I didn’t get much more work done after that. 

It’s been seventeen years and yet, I still feel my heart sink and sway whenever this day comes around, when I remember just how long it’s been. 

That��s why I’m writing this letter. After all, I ran out of tequila a couple of days ago, and haven't bothered to replenish it.

I miss you. I know why you’re gone, and I know that I can run this project by myself. That’s not why I need you. You’ve called me indomitable, and I know I live up to that. I don’t lie to myself, Hershey. The project is working, and every day I grow closer to seeing that new Polaris brightening the night sky. 

Instead, I miss having someone I could truly talk to. Spend hours speaking on the stars, on celestial astrophysics, on just how far we still have to go. On old memories of university, of those horrible parties we were both forced to attend, but made bearable simply by your presence. I miss being able to talk about my grief, even if I’ve never been brave enough to tell you its full extent. 

Who else is there to tell?

Because I certainly cannot speak to Charles about such things! That man hates everyone and everything in this place. I swear, every time I’m left alone with him, I grow closer to knocking him over the head with one of my heavier books. If I hear him muttering about Americans one more time—

Ugh, I’m getting off track. Perhaps I would rather focus on something else, but these feelings will consume me if I let them. So I cannot do anything but write.

I work above everyone else here. While I may be friendly, this is not the sort of thing you can tell a casual friend. My grief fuels me, just as it makes it harder to truly function some days. How do you explain that? Even with science on my side, I’ve never been able to say all of it aloud. 

Hershey, sometimes I can barely get out of bed. Sometimes the only thing fueling me is the fact that my Satellite will save so many people like my father. That no one will ever be stranded out in the ocean, that deep blue sea that's deeper than any expanses of space to me. That no one will ever have to watch their father sink into those depths-- swallowed entirely. Watch him disappear, know that he didn't know his place in the world when he died. 

God. 

I think that's the deepest blow of them all. I had to watch his eyes lose their light, his confidence replaced by fear and confusion. He had always known where to go, what to do, what next to say–but did he, really? Or is that just a child’s fantasy? A little girl’s dream, believing that her father would never falter? 

I’ve lived so much longer without him than I did with him. 

He’ll never know the woman I became. He’ll never know that I never abandoned my dream of the sciences, never fell for a man. He’ll never get the chance to truly know me, because I wasn’t even fully formed when I lost him. I was still becoming, still changing–and yet, he died only knowing a version of me that quite possibly no longer exists. Every time I think about it too long, Hershey, I swear it’s like I’m adrift again, the waves crashing over my small form. Being stabbed with blades of seawater. 

I do this all for him, and he will never know it. He will never know the woman his daughter became. I believe that he would have still loved me, still cared for me. But I’ll never know for sure, will I? 

Sometimes, I wake up and I'm back on that sea. Clinging to that driftwood like it's my only tether to the world. I was just as lost as my father, really. I was just the one who got to survive. Kicking, kicking, kicking, frantically trying to move towards a land that I wasn't quite sure existed.

I nearly gave up, Hershey. I was a child. Not even a decade past of life, having just lost–my world. My everything. I had nothing but my books, my father, and his crew - a life spent at sea, sailing the Caribbean, gone forever. Before that night, I believed that the sea was a home. That the waves would never overwhelm me, that they’d always bring me back to shore safely. 

I’ll never be that little girl again. There’s a reason I bring navigation gear everywhere, you know. …well, of course you don’t know. Sorry, Hershey. 

Every day, I wonder how I found the strength to survive it. You don't know how tight of a grip exhaustion can have on your heart, swirling around your skull, lulling you into letting go of everything you know. Until everything you have ever loved is gone in one storm. Those who are lost, never found again. 

But even as a child, I didn’t want to let myself be lost. 

I would not let Father's sacrifice be in vain. 

Not then. Not ever.

So I fought against the sea for weeks. I had my own personal battles with the waves, clinging to that driftwood like it was my Eden. I fell asleep, woke again gasping for air, fighting against tides roaring above my head. Even after so long, those memories don’t fade. I remember them as vividly as they were yesterday…even as my father’s laugh and voice fades from that same memory. Seawater tastes so bitter on your tongue, your blood racing up and down your veins as you scream into the stars, your voice going unheard for thousands of miles. Even writing this down makes me want to shudder.  

Now, it still makes little sense to me. It makes even less sense to me knowing more about the world. I should have died of hunger, of thirst, of lack of sleep. That risk should have killed me a thousand times, a child fighting against too much to bear. But I suppose even back then, the woman I would become, the indomitable Anna Hanover had started to emerge. 

That little girl survived, making it to shore. Only I remain of the Hanovers. 

My father is gone. 

But I will make his legacy live on. I will make it so that no one is never lost at sea, unsure of where they are in the world ever again. So that no children have to struggle against the sea, too tired and afraid to yet get to mourn. 

It is a vow I’ve made over and over, and one I will continue to make. 

God, it truly is late, isn’t it? I don’t know if as many of these words would have left me otherwise. My hand aches, the ink running low. I suppose I’ll have to replenish it in the morning. Add another task to the neverending pile. 

Anyways. I doubt I'll send this. 

But maybe one day I will. 

Maybe one day this letter will be meaningless, because I will have said all of this in person to you.  

But I don't–Hershey, I just don’t know. Imagine. Me, not knowing something. Not being able to talk about something! You know better than anyone just how much I can go on and on. It's heavy, this grief. It's been over fifteen years now, and I don't think the load has gotten any easier to carry. Father’s memory is the reason why my life’s work exists, after all. My grief and old love for him weigh on me almost as heavy, if not heavier than my Satellite.

Given how much I care for you, I wonder if I’ll ever be able to share my truth on these matters. If not you, then who? I may take lovers, may have friends—but you have been my dearest person for so long. You have gotten me through so much, been my friend so long, and yet the words die whenever I think of trying.

Good night, Hershey. I think I’ll try to sleep now. My eyes grow weary, and my hands shake. After all, I need to be up rather early tomorrow in order to . Sleep may be hard to come by. Perhaps it will come easier after baring my soul in this letter. 

A woman can only hope. 

I hope that wherever you are, your night has been more peaceful, more filled with stars, than mine. 

Your friend,

NOVA

[yourangel137]

Bloodstains on the curtain /chapter 1

Here is chapter one! I hope you all like it, I'm very proud of it myself so it's okay if you don't like it <3 @weney specifically made for u tbh

Pairings: yandere/murderer!Childe x GN!reader

Warnings: Murder, Blood, panic, stress

Genre: Angst (+ small bit of fluff)

Type: series

Word count: 1117 words

Summary: Why do you have to fall for him out of everyone? You know damn well you caught him in the act of murdering someone.. but you’re wrapped around his finger.. Turning a blind eye for him and only him.

I wish I didn’t see that, but I did.

You wipe the slightly sticky liquid off your hand with the towel you found in your gym bag. Breath is uneven, showing signs of anxiety and fear. Your eyes saw more than they wanted to see, yet your brain can not comprehend what exactly happened right before you. Remembering the details, how your body stood stiff from fear before the scene of horror u witnessed. How did you manage to even escape such a horrible scene? How did you manage to silently step away and he didn’t notice it? Did he notice you though, but decide to ignore you? He knows, you know he knows, but why are you still here? Why are you still alive? Why did he spare you?

You look at the towel in your hands, covered in the substance you once had on your hand. Never in your wildest dreams did you expect to touch the blood from a dead student you once knew. ‘Will I be next in line?’ You think to yourself, a thought you hoped you never had to think about. A big lump of saliva almost chokes you up, stomach aching and gurgling up acid from feeling sick. ‘Where is my phone??’ You search in your bag for your phone, eventually finding it in the side pocket next to your headphones. Quickly you dial the emergency number and wait for someone to pick up. The moment someone starts talking on the other line your brain speeds up a speech to tell them. “You’re speaking to Y/N L/N, please send the police!”

“Please calm down L/N, Can you tell me what happened?”

Your shaking continues as you find yourself sit down on the chair in the classroom you ended up running in. You took some deep breaths before answering the lady on the other line. “I-“ You swallow down a bit lump of saliva. “I witnessed one of the students being stabbed by an unknown man. Please! Please send help! I don’t know if the man is still here and I have no idea what to do! I’m located at **** University. Please send help!”

“Help is on the way L/N. Please stay on the line until help has arrived. Are you alone right now? Where are you located?”

With shaky breath you look around, not fully sure which classroom you ended up in. “U-uhm I don’t know.. I forgot..” The hallway outside the classroom once silent begins to echo the sound of footsteps. Footsteps light and airy, almost as if someone is happily skipping around unbeknown of the horror that happened in the gym changing room. How long has it been since you found out? Since you saw the murder happen before your very own eyes? “Can you go outside and check for me? The police will escort you out of your school safely.”

“U-uh.. I hear footsteps.” You whisper out the words, afraid to be heard by the person outside the classroom. “Okay, Are you located on the ground floor?”

“Yes. I am.”

“Alright, please stay on the line. Can you describe what you saw?” Your memories of the event flash before your eyes once more. The blood splashes on the walls, the man with the black mask on, the dead body of a woman on the ground. Everything feels like an explosion in your brain, causing a headache you rather not experience right now. Dissociation happens, body becoming weak once again, tear stained cheeks glowing from exhaustion and eyes slightly dilating. “Hello? Are you still there?” Your train of thoughts can’t seem to be broken yet.

“Y/N? Why are you in this classroom alone?”

The sudden voice appearance makes you gasp in surprise and you start choking on your saliva. Your eyes dart to the door, eyes full of fear and anxiety. “Oh my god, Y/N are you okay?!” You watch your best friend run up to you and you are too slow to react before you feel his arms pull you into a hug. “Hello? Are you still there?” The voice on the phone called out.

You feel your best friend let go of you before you watch him grab your phone and start talking. “Hello? Who is this?”

...

“Ah.. emergency services? Yes, I see. You’re talking to Tartaglia, their friend. I came to pick them up and I found them in a classroom.”

...

“It’s classroom 15A on the ground floor. Yes we’ll stay on the phone till then.” Tartaglia gives you your phone back before sighing and sitting down next to you. “What happened? Let’s stay calm okay? I’ll keep you safe, I promise.” He shows his usual soft smile towards you, the smile you ended up loving more than anyone elses smiles.

“I went to the gym changing room.. A-A friend forgot something and I came to grab it.. but in the showers.. I turned on the lights and I saw a man hovering over a dead girls body a-and he had a knife. I ran..”

The lady on the phone listens close, just like your friend does. The panic is clearly seen in your body language but also in the way you communicate. Trembles in your voice, stutters and heavy breathing, making it very difficult to understand. “It’s going to be okay L/N. Your help has arrived.” The lady speaks out on the phone and you soon start hearing many footsteps echo through the once empty hallway and towards the classroom you’re located at. “You’re safe.”

The classroom door opens and the police enter it, they immediately go to your side and check up on you. The other police make their way to the crime scene, a scene so bloody its best to close off the school so they can do full research on it. In the end, research teams enter the school too to check out the crime scene. Despite how desperate you are to know more about the murder and what clues they might be finding, it’s best for your own safety to stay by the side-line for now until they reach out for you to ask you questions. Your friend Tartaglia keeps you close, being sure to make you feel safe while explaining to the police what he was doing at school and what he witnessed by himself while being in school. He provides his own alibi to the police and it all seems to check out in the very end, but one thing seems off to you. You aren’t fully sure but.. You could’ve sworn you saw those keychains at the crime scene as well..

I wish I didn’t see that, but I did.

--

Hope u liked chapter one! Have a lovely day<3

Much love, angel

[mumblelard]

grace or grimace

finn came over after work yesterday and we sat at my kitchen table for four hours eating red bag chicken sandwiches, drinking dollar bucket devilry, and talking about dropped decades, alligatorids, walkie talkie schedules, burnt toast, frozen mice, attic apartments, crashing cornices, and falling off roofs. it was a nice day

[romandyty]

You found a battered, neatly folded four times the page of the diary, you got the feeling that it was carefully kept in pocket, but torn out on emotion:

"...I caught myself pointing a gun at him. It's not him. It can't be him! I saw his body bleeding out! It was him then! But then why is he now I'm looking at him, alive, healthy in every sense... A loved one... The creature that accompanies me, I still haven't learned her name, but she doesn't seem to mind me calling her "Andy", it is... It didn't encourage me then, as it always does, to shoot. I looked at her then.. Her tentacles stopped wriggling, she froze all over, I couldn't see her eyes, but I felt her staring intently into my soul. I do not know how many eyes she has, whether they are human, but then I felt with all my gut - it knows more than it shows. Then I looked at him again, into those damn yellow eyes like gold. My favorite eyes. Into the eyes of the man who made a queen out of me, and then threw me like the last mutt. For what? Why did he do that? I tried to read it in his eyes — but instead of the usual confidence and pride with which he usually looked at me, I saw fear.

Rabid, inhuman, primitive.

I saw him shaking — his caricatured muscles with a very thin body, which is strange, slowly rolled under the skin, tensing, contracting, as if he would rush away at any second like a timid dog with his tail between his legs.

I swear, from the sight that I watched then, I wanted to vomit in disgust, because looking at him, I automatically remember the moment when a raven landed on his body and began to pick at his flesh with its beak.

This is not the boy who saved me when I was 14. This is not the guy who put me on a pedestal. This is not the man I was once proud to call my love..... I was ready to shoot. But when he spoke, it was as if hot metal poured into my ears. It's him. It's definitely him. But not the way I remembered him. Emaciated, exhausted, covered in bruises and abrasions, as if he had been tortured, scared, panicked and pathetic.

When I lowered the gun, he hugged me. But I didn't answer, those hugs hurt me more than any wound. But he hugged me like no one else. It's his hug.

This is my Alexander.

He left me! I hate him! How could he do this to me! I lost the most valuable thing because of him! I've lost-I've lost my soul. Not just his own. I've lost something I could have lived for. And I have nothing left but contempt and hatred for this man, even if I would like to continue calling him my husband. I almost shot him. Almost..."

Then the words were crossed out, but you could make out a small passage:

"...how could I have thought of shooting him then? He's too pathetic to waste bullets on him. Now he's tangled in Andy's hair and shaking like a leaf, whining in his sleep. Is that really what I wanted? I think he's going to die first....—————"What happened to him?" While we were walking through one of the universes, he just fell into a stupor a couple of times when he saw his reflection... I feel like comforting him, like I comforted him before. I'm disgusted by my own thoughts."

[giggly-squiggily]

Great In Theory, Bad In Execution (Moriarty The Patriot)

Two fics in one weekend- whoop whoop! So Moriarty the Patriot. A gem of an anime filled with equally shiny characters! I love Sherlock so much, so naturally I have to write him! I hope you like it! :D

Summary: After one too many incidents of his ticklishness being discovered, Sherlock decides to create a "remedy" to make himself immune. Of course- how will he test it? Watson finds himself dragged in to help.

“Dreadful, shameful, an embarrassment to my reputation, how’d I let myself slip so easily-” Sherlock was pacing about his room, one hand shoved into his pocket while the other pushed his hair out of his face. All these hours later and his cheeks were still tinted a stubborn pink, deeping whenever the memory of that night replayed in his mind. “I should have never- I could have- UGH!”

“Sherlock?” A pajama clad Watson peeked in, cringing some at the glare his flatmate shot him. “Are you well? You're making quite a bit of noise. Miss Hudson-”

“Sherlock Holmes! If you don’t stop that insistent pacing I’m putting you on the street!” Said woman stormed in, tugging her robe tightly over her. Much like Watson, she was dressed in her nightwear, her sleep mask crooked against her forehead. “What in god’s name has you so excited?”

“Oh come now, you two! It’s only…” Sherlock looked at the nearby clock, blanching at the hour. “Eh…eheh. I hadn’t realized how late it was.” He cleared his throat, grinning sheepishly at his companions. “Well, I should be off to bed now. Goodnight you two-”

“Oh no you don’t!” Watson blocked his path. “You woke us both up with all your noise! Knowing you- if I leave you be, you’ll just go right back to pacing!” The doctor took him in then, brows furrowing at Sherlock’s outwear. “Did you just get back from somewhere?”

“Yes- the local pub. I had some business there when I ran into Moriarty.” Sherlock waved the details off, a gesture that would have seemed nonchalant if it weren't for the pink still staining his face. Watson and Miss Hudson shared a look.

“Well, I’m off to bed.” Their landlady announced, figuring what was about to be spoken should stay private. “Keep the noise down, will you Sherlock?” She smiled kindly at Watson before disappearing down the hall. Upon her exit, the detective seemed to relax some.

“It’s just the two of us now, Holmes.” Watson prompted. “Wanna talk about it?”

Sherlock groaned, walking towards the nearest couch and flopping down. “No. But…”

~~Earlier that evening~~

“Aha! Professor- what a pleasant surprise!” Sherlock grinned when his eyes landed on the familiar blonde man sitting by. “I take it you’ve finished your evening classes at the local university?”

“Hm? Oh, Mr. Holmes. A pleasure to see you too, yes.” Said man smiled, the expression a bit tired. “I’ve been stuck at the office for quite some time today-  I’d much prefer teaching my students over grading their work.” Turning to the bartender, he ordered a round of drinks for them as the detective sat down. “How are things with your profession?”

“Boooring. If I get one more missing cat case, my head’s gonna explode.” Sherlock groaned, leaning into a hand as he vented about his most recent cases. If Watson were here, he’d probably scold him for speaking so crudely about his work. At least with William he could be frank. The Professor never seemed to be phased by Sherlock’s lack of filter.

“I suppose that’s the cost of popularity. You gain more work, but it lacks the intrigue you’re searching for.” William smiled behind his whisky as he watched Sherlock shoot his back, slapping his cup down with a satisfying nod. “Surely it’s not all boring?”

“Eh, I suppose. We did uncover quite the cheater! This lord- heh, he really thought he was slick.” Sherlock turned, something sinister in his tipsy grin. “He was sneaking women into his bedchambers almost every night! You know how he got caught? We found him in the bu-”

In Sherlock’s excitement, his hand accidentally knocked his empty glass towards the ground. Both men reached for it at the same time, William’s reflexes faster due to sobriety. Sherlock missed altogether.

What didn’t miss was William’s hand accidentally brushing the detective’s side.

“Gah!”

“Oh? Apologies, Mr. Holmes. Did I hurt you?” William looked up at the other, eyes curious at how red the other looked then. “Mr. Holmes?”

“I-It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.” Sherlock turned back to the bar, arms crossed around his middle in a failed attempt to look casual. That certainly sobered him up. William tilted his head curiously before his easy smile returned.

“Very well- I shall take my leave. My brothers; they tend to grow worried for me if I’m out later.” He gathered his bag and hat, leaving a coin for the bartender with a nod. “We’ll have to pick up where we left off next time, Mr. Holmes. I’m intrigued to hear how your riveting story ended.”

“Oh? Yeah, sure, definitely.” Sherlock nodded, unable to look anywhere but that blasted whisky glass. William passed by from behind. As he did, Sherlock felt something like a prod to the ribs, making him shoot up with a yelp.

“Apologies.” William smiled, eyes dancing with devilish delight. “I tripped.”

Sherlock was left sitting there at the bar for quite a long time.

~~Current Time~~

“That’s all?” Watson asked, blinking at his friend. “Sherlock, with all due respect, don’t you think you’re overreacting to such a small gesture?”

“Overreacting?” Sherlock sat up, his glare hot. “That was no small gesture, Watson! Moriarty, I could see it in his eyes! He knew what he had discovered!” Sherlock started to stand, pausing as if remembering Miss Hudson’s warning before easing back in his seat. “I felt like a fool- for something so, so childish!”

“Sherlock, many people are ticklish.” Watson reassured him, wincing some when Sherlock cut him another look. “It’s nothing to be embarrassed about, and besides- the likelihood of Moriarty using it against you is slim.”

“That’s not the problem, John! It’s not that he knows I’m…” Sherlock stumbled, squirming in his seat. “Sensitive- It’s how annoying it is in my everyday life! I can’t even get fitted for a suit or checked at the department without being reminded of it!” The detective huffed, crossing his arms. “I was cursed with this dreadful ailment- a trade perhaps for my intellect. Given the ability to solve cases but now I must live with too sensitive skin!”

“Yes. Unfortunately there isn’t anything that can be done for that.” Watson mused. “No potions or medicines exist to remove ticklishness from the body.”

Sherlock nodded glumly, and then stopped. Eyes widening, his brain went into overdrive. “John, you ol’ chap, you’re a genius!” Sherlock grinned, making the doctor look up with a blink. “A medicine to stop being so sensitive! It’s perfect!”

“Sherlock I wasn’t being serious-” Watson began, finding himself being pushed out the room gently by the detective. “Sherlock?”

“No time! I must get to work, Watson! Time is of the essence!” Sherlock smiled before shutting the door in Watson’s face, leaving the other staring at old mahogany.

“Oh dear…” The doctor yawned, suddenly too tired to deal with this. “This will only end in disaster, won’t it?”

~~~

“John! John! Come quickly!” Sherlock’s cries shocked Watson out of his morning routine. The doctor raced towards the bedroom, panic setting in. Has Sherlock hurt himself? Did an experiment go wrong?

“Sherlock, what is it?” Watson sprinted into the room, finding Sherlock in mint condition before him. In his hand he held a beaker containing a ruby red liquid. “Erm..you have a drink?”

“What? No, this is no ordinary drink, John!” Sherlock shook his head, presenting the glass to the other. “This is my creation! A cure for the dreaded sensitivity afflicting my body!”

“What…oh. Your remedy for being ticklish.” Watson felt his body relax, glad to know no real danger was before him. “I’m glad you’re- What are you doing?”

Sherlock, after presenting the cup, chugged the entirety of its contents in one go. Wiping the drips of red from his lips, he nodded. “Oh yes…I feel it, John. My genius is working!”

“You’re mad!” Watson cried, running over and grabbing Sherlock’s collar. His skin looked fine, no sudden changes in color or texture. “Why would you drink that? Oh no- where’s the charcoal? Tell me you have charcoal!” John yanked open the nearest drawer, searching for the tablets. “We need to get you to the hospital before you-”

“John, John, easy!” Sherlock took his arm, pulling him away from the drawers. “I’m fine! If the solution was dangerous, clearly I’d be dead now, wouldn’t I?”

“Poisons work differently, Sherlock!” John grabbed the beaker, bringing it to his nose. “If we can identify the chemicals-”

“John.” Sherlock cut him off, finally silencing the other. “I assure you I’m fine. I know my way around a lab, thank you.”

The doctor was quiet, still staring at the beaker in hand. Finally, he sighed, putting it down on the table and turning to his flatmate. “Alright. I trust you. So, this magical medicine you made?” John gestured to Sherlock’s body. “Does it work?”

“I don’t know. That’s the thing about humans, we can’t exactly test ourselves regarding our sensitivity.” Sherlock looked thoughtful before making his way over to the couch, shrugging off his jacket and shoes. Once comfortable, he sprawled out along the cushions, tucking his arms behind his head. “Come on now.”

“Erm…what?” Watson asked.

“Do it.” Sherlock told him. Watson stared some more. “Come on now- we don’t know how long this remedy will last.”

“You want me to…tickle you?” Watson asked. Sherlock flushed at the question, but nodded. “Are you sure?”

“Yes yes! Now hurry! Before the solution wears off!” Sherlock fussed impatiently. Watson sighed before walking over, stretching out his hands.

“Very well. Just remember, you asked me to do this.”

“Hah, no worries! If this worked, I’ll be imu-uuhhuhuhuhuhuhuhuhuuhuhne!” Sherlock spasmed when Watson’s fingers touched his body, clawing at his stomach and sides. “Aheahhahahahhahaha! Whahahahhahaht the hehhehehehhheehhell?”

“Did it not work?” Watson asked, brows furrowing as he continued dragging his fingers along Sherlock’s torso. “You sounded so sure. Should I stop?”

“Nohohoohoohhohoho! Keehehehheheep gohoohohoohing! Mahahhahaybe it neehehehheds tihihiihime to kihihihihck ihiihih-IIHIHIN!” The detective all but squeaked when Watson pinched his lower ribs, his hands shooting down from behind his head to guard his torso. “Johohohohohoohn, dohoohoohohon’t!”

“Don’t what? If I recall, you weren’t even that ticklish here.” Watson mused, starting to smile. He let his other hand creep up Sherlock’s open side, walking up his ribs one bone at a time towards his armpit. “Or ticklish here? Maybe your medicine made it worse?”

“Perehehahhahhahahahps? Ihiihihihihihi nehehehehhehed to dohoohohoho mohohohore reeheehehshehehehharch! Aheahhahahhaahaha!” Sherlock squirmed to and from on the couch, batting at the hands. His cheeks were bright red now, his hair growing messier by the minute. “Geahhahahaha, ohoohoohkay! Ohoohohohkay, Wahahahhahatson, stahahhahap ihihiiihhit!”

“Already? But shouldn’t we check all the usual spots first? You never know- the medicine might have numbed a few.” It was absolute bull, what Watson was saying. Really, he was just starting to have fun. Sherlock could be quite the disaster when he wanted to be, driving him and poor Miss Hudson into his antics. It was nice to finally get some much needed revenge.

“Gohoohohohohohd pohohohoohint! Prohohohohoohcehehehheheed!” Sherlock nodded, arching with a cackle when Watson’s hands dug into his armpits. “AHEHAHHA I TAHHHKE IT BAHAHAHCK! I TAHHAHHAKE IT BACK GEHEHHET OHOHOHOOOHOHUT!”

“Hmm…nope, that’s still the same.” Watson dropped his hands down, grabbing Sherlock’s waist. The brunette all but shrieked, nearly jumping off the couch in his hysteria. “That’s the same too. Actually, I think your waist got worse, Sherlock!”

“WHHAHAHHAHAHTSON PELAHHAHHHAHAHSE!” The detective squealed, practically hugging himself to protect his tickle spots. No matter how tightly he pressed his arms in, Watson found a way past his defenses. “MOHOOHOHOVE SOHOOHOHMEWHERE EHEHHHEHLSE!”

“Okay okay…how about here?” Watson grabbed his hip, nearly getting a fist to the eye from Sherlock’s wild squirms. “Okay, definitely still ticklish. Here?” He squeezed his thigh, giggling some at the snorts he earned. “Yep, that’s still normal.” He even dared to tickle his feet, running a single finger down Sherlock’s sole.

“JOHOHOHOOAHAHHHHAAHAN!” Sherlock’s voice cracked from how bad it tickled, eyes wet with mirthful tears and voice fading in and out.

“Yep, you’re still ticklish everywhere.” Watson laughed, finally pulling his hands back. “Looks like your new medicine was a bit of a bust, ol’ chap.”

“Eheh…eheheh…heheh….” Sherlock groaned weakly, body limp with exhaustion against the couch. His hair fell in his face, matted with sweat and blocked his vision. Watson reached out to move it away when Sherlock proved too tired to do so. “Shahame…and heheere I thoohhought I did sohohomething…”

“Perhaps you should count yourself lucky you didn’t die from it?” Watson offered, earning a light pinch to the arm. “If anything, I think it made you even more ticklish than before.” “Drahahats…that’s ihihit. I’m leahhahving medicine to ohohohothers.” Sherlock groaned, closing his eyes. “I…I need a moment. Mahahaybe several.” He was out moments later, soft snores puffing out his lips. Watson smiled before standing.

“Here I was thinking you were killing him.” Miss Hudson’s voice made him jump. Watson turned to find her leaning against the doorframe, a soft smile on her lips as she watched Sherlock sleep. “Can’t blame you if you were. I’d want to kill him too.”

“Did we disturb you? I apologize.” Watson began, stopping when she waved him off.

“It’s fine, truly.” She walked over to the desk, picking up the beaker. “He drank it too. Such an idiot.”

“Yes. Though I have a feeling you knew he would.” Watson walked over, a secret smile touching his lips when their eyes met. “Wine, Miss Hudson?”

“It looked similar enough.” She winked, tucking the glass in her skirts. “You really think I’d let him drink whatever that concoction was? He’s bad enough alive. Imagine what he’d be like dead?” She shuddered. “He’d haunt us for all eternity.”

“He certainly would.” Watson agreed, laughing. “Would you like to have some tea with me, Miss Hudson? I’m curious to know what other interference you’ve done for the sake of Sherlock.”

“But of course, John.” She nodded, turning to the door. “That would be lovely.”

Thanks for reading!

[icedmetaltea]

Mmmm dream talk

Got real tired around the middle of the afternoon and ended up having a 3-4 hr nap lol. It was one of those lucid kinds where I could keep myself myself go back into the dream so i did, over and over and over cause I was having so much fun

I remember something about being a dad with kids on this family trip in like an rv BUT we got transported to another dimension somehow and ended up on this frozen wasteland of iced over water, unable to move the car. We had like 40% battery remaining so I went to go look for land. Ran into this corporate-ass robot thing that told us to stay where we were, that everything would be ok, BUT WE WOULD FREEZE TO DEATH IF WE DID CAUSE WE WERE GONNA RUN OUT OF BATTERY OVERNIGHT!!

So I realized the robot was evil and wanted us to freeze there, dunno why (got vibes from those freakyass robots in alien:isolation tbh it was NOT a good boi) so went back to tell my kids about it and had a little cry

Me and one of my older daughters went to go look for something under the water... don't ask me how we were able to survive under the fucking ICY WATER and not die of hypothermia, we just were- but I gave her a tube to breathe under the water or visa versa and we set off to look for... somehting, can't remember what, while avoiding the evil robot dude

I switched to daughter's POV and she got caught by this other girl who dived in and found her. Turns out she was a daughter of the leader of this island/pocket universe idk and they quickly became friends. She took her in to see her house which was real weird cause it was full of all these things my daughter remembered, like stuff from a halloween party she went to as a smol kid, and it just so happened that her best friend had gone missing during that party way back then... so like she must've gotten sucked into the pocket universe along with these other few ppl

The two girls kinda started catching feelings so she ran off w/ my daughter and went to meet up with me, we somehow got out of the pocket universe but the family of the girl got angry she had disappeared and started searching for her... Idk how but many years later they figured out how to travel into the real dimension to find us

Not sure if this was related but something about two teams of ppl with magic powers facing against each other and killing each other in torturous ways??? Like they kept doing it cause they kept respawning idk

Only one was saved cause they were the cinnamon roll of the groups

Aaaaand that's all I remember lol... I feel really bad cause there were a lot of aspects I wanted to remember and write a story for and kept REPEATING OVER AND OVER EVEN IN MY DREAM BUT NOOOOOOO, as soon as I woke up it all became blurry >:(((( I am once again blocked off from my creative side that exists only in my theta state

my head huuuuuurts tooooo aaAAAA

[stargazer-sims]

Journal Entry #56 (part three)

Journal Entry #56 (part two) // STORY INDEX

Yuri

Victor and I were just getting out of the bath, where we’d been relaxing after playtime more than we’d actually been bathing, when his phone rang. For some reason, he’d brought It into the bathroom with us. I frowned at the intrusion, but Victor reacted like he was anticipating it. He bounded forward and scooped his phone off the counter by the sink.

“It’s probably the optician,” he said excitedly, and then answered the call with a cheerful, “Hello? Victor Okamoto-Nelson speaking.”

It did turn out to be the optician, phoning to say Victor’s new glasses were ready.

"That was quick," I observed, as soon as he'd hung up and told me what it was about.

"Yeah," he said. "I thought I'd be waiting until tomorrow. But, you got your last pair in less than twenty-four hours, didn't you? Maybe they like to under-promise and over-deliver."

"Always a good customer service policy," I said.

"Do you want to come with me to get them?"

I shook my head. "I'd like to, but I'm running low on energy. Still recovering from yesterday." I offered him a smile. "And this morning."

He looked me up and down. "I guess we did get a little more energetic than we intended."

"You're worth it," I said.

"So are you."

He gave me a quick kiss on the cheek and then ran off to his room to get ready to go out.

As for me, I took my time getting ready for the day. There was no need to rush, and it felt good to pay attention to each little aspect of my personal care routine and to appreciate being able to do all of it for myself.

Joy and pleasure can be found in the smallest or simplest things, if only we slow down and pay attention. And those same small things are reasons to be grateful too. Brushing my teeth, moisturizing my face, combing my hair… each task felt wonderful, not just from a physical perspective, but also because I was happy and thankful to finally be well enough to do them on my own.

Please let this last, I thought.

I’m not generally a praying person, but I hoped that if there was some almighty force controlling all our destinies, it would hear what I was thinking and grant me a reprieve from the stress and suffering I’d had to endure recently.

I glanced at myself in the mirror one more time. Satisfied with what I saw, I finally made my way downstairs to wait for Victor to get back. He’d left while I was still in the midst of putting myself together, which was fine with me. I was sure he wouldn't be long, in any case.

I got comfortable on the sofa with the dogs, turned on the TV and settled down to watch anime while I waited.

I thought Victor would only be gone for an hour or so, but when I realized over two hours had passed and he still hadn't returned, I started to worry. He was only going to pick up his glasses. He should've been home, unless...

Don't panic, I told myself. Just text him.

A few deep breaths helped to slow my racing heartbeat. I wiggled my phone out of my back pocket and was about to send Victor a message when I heard the faint sound of keys in the lock of the front door.

The dogs hopped off the sofa, but neither of them barked. They bark at everyone except me, Victor and Yuki. I let out my breath in a huge exhalation.

A few seconds later, Victor came around the corner with his new glasses perched on his nose, a large cloth shopping bag in his hand and a million watt smile on his face.

“Yuri, look!" he exclaimed, holding up the red and grey striped bag. "I bought books!”

I laughed out loud. I couldn't help it. He may be a grown man, but in that moment he resembled nothing so much as a little boy proudly showing off his prized possession to his favourite grownup.

When I finally caught my breath, I held my arms out to him and said, “Come here.” Then, I quickly had to add, “No, Victor. Put your books down first.”

He set his shopping bag on the table as if it contained the most precious objects in the universe, and then caught me in a jubilant hug. “Are you proud of me?”

“I’m very proud of you,” I said. “I wish you'd told me you were making a detour, though."

"I didn't mean to not tell you," he said. "But, I got distracted.”

“Oh? Distracted by books?”

“Exactly. I noticed there's an international bookshop across the street from the optician's office, and I was kind of curious about what they had in English, so I went in. I started looking at the books, and then I started reading and lost track of time."

"You were reading in the bookshop?"

"Yeah!" he said. "For more than five minutes, and I didn't even get a headache, and nothing looked weird or distorted at all."

"That's wonderful," I said. "Which books did you get?"

"I got one about the history of the Olympics, and one about samurai, and two action novels. Did you know they made those? Like action movies, but books.

"I had some idea, yes."

"I already read almost two chapters of one of them while I was hanging out in the bookshop. Now, I have to know what happens."

I smiled. "Welcome to the world of reading."

"Thanks," he said.

"Why don't you show me all your books?” I suggested. “Maybe you can read to me and show me how well you can do now that you've got your glasses."

He nodded, and happily agreed. We curled up together with his bag of books, and for the next hour I was content to snuggle with him and listen to the surprisingly interesting history of the Olympic Games.

Remember what I said before about being a little more hopeful with each passing day? That's been more true over the past two days than all the days that came before. This morning, for the first time in a very long time, I dared to let myself believe that the future was something to look forward to instead of something to dread.

[ofstarsandskies]

it was hard to tell the date and time when one traveled from world to world, especially when all that surrounded you was endless darkness decorated by planets and solar systems. it was a sight that she wouldn't get bored of no matter how many times she had seen. apparently, according to the star time, the end of the year was approaching and a new beginning of the era was about to start.

she stood next to him, peering her auric orbs to watch the other as though contemplating something. there was something she wanted to try. the soft, almost curious spark in those eyes was a dead giveaway. her breath caught in her lungs for a moment longer before she leaned in, lips hovering close to his own —

— before she placed a quiet kiss to his cheek as the stars flickered into new year.

she could've stolen a kiss from his lips if she wanted to, though the trailblazer seemed content to have that soft peck on the cheek as she leaned back. " a kiss on the lips should be saved for someone special, right ? " as chaotic and uncontrollable as eden was, even she wouldn't steal something like that from him against his will. her cheeks were dusted with a hint of red as she cleared her throat.

" happy new year. thank you for ... tolerating my antics this year. "

@lunaetis || Happy New Year, Nii-san & Eden~!

To think, the next year was a few hours away. Time both slipped through his fingers and weighed on his shoulders. Realizations like that made Julius wonder how fast time would do once he left the concept of aging behind, but he'd cross that bridge when he and Ludger got to it. They were still a number of items away from that train of thought anyway.

As customary, Ludger asked him to read through his Life Checklist to both review their progress and reflect upon the memories they made this 'year'. They relied on the Garden of Remembrance's records to keep track as it adjusted to a planet's perception of days in real time (even if it meant printed dates were at times weird). Reading through brought him back to each recorded moment, smiling away as he reimagined himself standing at Ludger's side the whole way.

Of course some were not-so-kind to his presence (namely the times Julius teased him or acted like a know-it-all), but he still enjoyed every page. He'd even give Ludger a surprise and add tiny notes in the page margins. Then when he looks back before both the next year and that day comes, they'll remember their mortal connection fondly.

But he'd done enough reading for the evening. The Express was prepping for a New Star Year party; future Memokeepers knew the importance of creating fond memories with others. He tabbed one of the latter entries to check his watch, though the reflection he saw in the glass wasn't just him-- Eden's face stared back as well.

"Sorry, did I keep you waiting?" Julius stuffed both the journal and his watch into the first pocket his hands reached. "Ludger has me review our travel journal at the start of every new universal year. His writing's so descriptive, I get lost in its world. Truthfully, I didn't even feel myself standing this whole time."

--Look at him, chatting Eden's ear off. She tuned him out ages ago from the look of it, too focused on something else. By the time he found the mind to ask, she already leaned close, planting a gentle kiss on his cheek as the stars flared to welcome the new year.

To call it unexpected wouldn't do his mind's failure to process justice.

But as Eden explained her reasoning, Julius' response was immediate: he pulled her back in for an embrace, tucking her head against his shoulder so she'd still see his face.

"There's no need to paint our time together in such a negative light," Julius corrected her. "I'd rather you and Atsuro not get into trouble, yes, but my tolerance isn't as thick as it seems. If you bothered me that much, I'd just silently take care of any major problems. But I always took the time to get involved, didn't I?"

He let his words sink in for a few minutes before leaning back so they could properly look each other in the eye, "Or let me put this in a shorter, yet festive way: thank you for making this past year one to remember. I'm glad we met."

[ammonitetestpatterns]

enlisted to data entry once again, grading hundreds of shellac discs. the spreadsheet, a corridor of white magician’s cutting boxes waiting to be stuffed with text bodies. with the rote flutter of the fingers, the inspective flip, i briefly lose myself in an opaque stygian mirror, obsidian undressed before the light, nostalgia for the first fire. the sun is a distant home, an energetic locality, it seems to be the center and the ends for us, but it’s one of many. this makes me recall how i came up with shellac samsara as a facetious ingroup concept, the cyclic grooves that entrench the record freak, the desire for attainment, hearing to home yourself back to hereness, whose creation cannot be isolated from the totality of its consequential net. dangling a galaxy, i look into the core of the disc, the ocular black hole that whittles to an eyepin, the light waiting on the other side. each recording, each index of something once seeking freedom in the elongation of time and space, the dimming stretch of duration, hangs its referents in an orbital dance. how rich that the nominal grazes distortion beyond any originary intelligibility, the flash of a dying color to be swept outside the passage of light. how suggestive and slightly dangeorus, the idea of a future fable in the label.

my tongue gets at noticing along the edge of sight, lacrimal salt like seadrops. i found the symbolic grace, the universal gift peeking from a brown paper crevice, the darkening interior of the record sleeve, the golden bands in my lost rutilated quartz! the tiny rock i was happy to carry in close pockets, milksmoke diaphane, ridgeless to touch, softening me in moments of pique until it vanished a few months ago. only by real work would i recover what has been lost. the allowance to enjoy the accomplishments without stalling yourself to shame and undue humility, looking away when virtues are inverted to vices. against sleepless nights of torment, now sent to wade the evidence of inspired lives and meetings in hairlines, fragile invisibility. chasing the clarifying time that comes whenever i orient the disc to the right angle of reflection, making the lustre uniform, noting with finality the gravity of its wear. at the beginning, the sound shrinks down from total whiteness into a stable, caught hearability. resin lineage, turning eternal.