#u didn't hear it here but i am in love with machine learning and the idea of. humans training machines in their image. and learning more ab

[arvensimp]

your father should know, pt. 4

Arven leaves you with something more than either of you bargained for when he goes off to Kalos for an internship, and through a series of miscommunications and heartbreak, he returns a few years later to learn that he actually has a child.

arven x fem!reader, nsfw content (in pt. 1), pregnancy (pts. 1, 2, & 2.5), angst, and stupid miscommunications

[part 1][part 2][part 2.5][part 3]

I'M HERE AGAIN THANKS FOR THE WAIT. SORRY ABOUT BEING THE WAY I AM LMAO please enjoy the next installment. it's not beta'd i'm out here livin like larry

~

[Group Chat: Team Star? More Like, Time To Go To HR AmIRight???]

WalkWalkFashionBaby: hey @ ParadoxChamp is this your man?

WalkWalkFashionBaby: [sent a photo]

[Image description: A man with wavy, longish ash blond and light brown hair, accompanied by a Mabosstiff, walking down the streets of Mesagoza. His hands are in his pockets, and he seems to be smiling.]

CassiopeiaYamahaSteinway: ?????????

CassiopeiaYamahaSteinway: !!!!!!!?!

CassiopeiaYamahaSteinway: yo wtf 

CassiopeiaYamahaSteinway: first of all that deadbeat isnt her man ortega

CassiopeiaYamahaSteinway: second

CassiopeiaYamahaSteinway: yea uh

CassiopeiaYamahaSteinway: @ paradoxchamp did you know he was back in town???????

CassiopeiaYamahaSteinway: third @ giacomo4pm momo if you don't change our nicknames in this chat back to normal I will absolutely dox you (again) and then change them back myself

Giacomo4pm: Can do, will do.

Giacomo4pm: Also, yo, damn, what's he doing back? I thought he fled the country or whatever.

--

Rika: so the sperm donor's here. Just came up the hill asking for you. Want me to send him packing?

Rika: yeah u do

Rika: well... I do.

Rika: also unrelated, holy sHIT, man's genes are strong. It's like I'm looking into a time machine for Basil's future.

Rika: except, you know. Basil will be way cooler and more handsome with your genes mixed in.

Rika: ❤️

Rika: plus no shitty facial hair.

Rika: or better facial hair.

Rika: anyway, I'm gonna eviscerate him.

Rika: love you. ❤️

--

You had been in Area Zero, gathering information on moth pokemon for Jacq when the director called, his usually placid voice laced with an edge of steel.

"Basil's father just stopped by." He says without preamble.

Your heart sinks, and you nearly lose your grip on Raidon, only barely managing to stay upright and drag the pokemon to a halt.

"His what?" You splutter, changing the phone to your other ear, as if you hadn't heard correctly.

"His father." The director repeats. "I know we have not...explicitly discussed Basil's paternity, but, well," He tsks lightly. "He showed up to speak to me."

Your head is filled with tarountula webbing. You feel your hearing go fuzzy, but somehow your hands direct Raidon up and toward the closest lab station. Out, out, out. Back to the school. Back to Basil, back to--

"I'm on my way to the entrance to Area Zero now." Clavell continues when you don't reply after a few moments. "I'll meet you there with Basil."

"What did he want?" You finally ask as you enter the station.

"I didn't give him the opportunity to chitchat."

You hum. "One second, Sir." You step into the transport pad.

A moment later, and Clavell is right in front of you, Basil tucked safely in his stroller, looking just as he did when you dropped him off this morning, save for his hair looking a little...off. You disregard it.

"Thank you so much." You sigh, hanging up the phone as Clavell gives you a sad sort of smile.

"Anything for you two." He says.

You kneel and try to fluff up your son's hair, but it has dried all crunchy from whatever happened during the day. He's getting a bath later, so you don't fret over it and just smile warmly to him, trying not to let your panic show.

"Ready to go home, sweet thing?" You ask him.

Basil nods, reaching with little hands for yours in his hair. "Mhmm!" He nods. "Ahso, Mama! I saw a big buddy! A big, BIG buddy!"

Clavell clears his throat and provides some context. "Mabosstiff said hello."

You look up to the director, knowing exactly which Mabosstiff he must mean. "Oh? Mabosstiff! That's...that's so great!" If your register is maybe just a touch too high, your smile too tight, it's only to maintain face in front of the boy to whom you turn back. "Were you kind? Remember how we always wanna be nice to new pokemon, yeah?"

"Uh-huh, uh-huh! He gived me a kisses! A lotsa kisses!"

So that's the crunch in his hair.

Oh, Mabosstiff...

"That's my sweet boy." You sigh, ruffling the mess before standing again to face the director.

"Thanks again. I'm gonna..." Another long exhale. "I'm gonna get us home."

Clavell nods. "You know how to reach me if you need something. And... Well, if you want me to intercede on your behalf, I'm happy to have words." He says stoically. "At times I felt I was the closest thing..." He gestures with his head outward toward the school. "He had to a parent in his life... I..." It's his turn to sigh. "I don't understand what happened there. How he could do what his own parents did to him? I'm sorry. If it's any consolation."

Your heart squeezes, and you distract yourself from the feeling by digging your nails into the soft foam of the handles of Basil's stroller. "Don't be. He made his choice, y'know?" You try to smile, but it's shaky. "He deserves to have the life he wants."

"He deserves a kick in the pants." Clavell responds. "Not that I'm an advocate for corporal punishment..." He adjusts his glasses in that grandfatherly way.

You laugh.

"Well, if he sticks around long enough, maybe you'll get a chance."

You hope he doesn't stick around.

Or...do you?

Do you even want to see him?

Either way, you don't want to linger on it in the lab.

"I'm gonna take this little one home."

Clavell nods. "Until later."

And then you're calling a cab to get back to your place, and Clavell is on his way back to the office.

While you're in the cab, you check your messages and sigh. Seems like Ortega caught a glimpse of Arven, and Rika is...fucking with him in some way or another.

You ignore your old classmates and opt to just text Rika.

Me: Got Basil from Clavell and we're on our way home rn/

Me: Love you too ofc 💖💖

A minute or so later, your phone buzzes. Rika again.

Rika: he's gone now

Rika: I put the fear of arceus in him if i do say so myself

You roll your eyes, smiling wryly. By now the cab is slowly descending to the space just outside your home, so you pocket the device and maneuver Basil in his stroller out of the cramped space and into the house.

Once he's unbuckled from his seat, he's bouncing around and grabbing at the attached bag, the one containing Buddy's pokeball, asking in broken syllables if they can play. 

It isn't a huge deal to let the pup out of the ball to play, so you hand it over to Basil, reminding him how to behave with his friend. At the same time, you also release Skeledirge to keep a watchful eye over the pair for a moment.

In the weeks since the Raisins Incident, as you've called it, you've come to the realization that your team can be of some assistance to you when you need a moment to yourself, when you're overwhelmed. Obviously Skeledirge isn't a parent. Neither is Raidon or Tinkaton or Screamtail or anyone else, but Skeledirge is smart enough to keep them safe for the precious seconds you need to breathe.

So you let the three alone in the living room and retire to your bedroom for a moment to collapse on the bed and gather your thoughts. You only need a few seconds. Just a few seconds of Mama time...just a few.

There's a sound at your open door as Basil toddles in, two pokemon in tow.

"Mama... Hungy?" He asks, clenching his shirt in tiny balled fists.

"Oh, sweetness..." You sigh, leaning down to pick him up and seat him securely on your lap. "You're hungry?" You press your face into his head, expecting its usual downy softness and the comfort of your child's scent, only to be met with that uncomfortable crunch of dried Mabosstiff slobber. Out of Basil's line of sight, your nose crinkles. "Let's see what we've got in the kitchen, yeah?"

"Toast? Toast 'n jellies?" He asks hopefully.

"I think we could do that, my littlest..." You respond with a smile, hefting your boy onto your hip as you trudge into the kitchen.

Of course, it would be just your luck that you're entirely out of oran jelly, the only jelly that Basil will eat right now. Thank you, developing taste buds and picky eating...

Maybe he won't notice if you try to give him pinap jelly instead this once?

You prepare his plate, the toast lovingly cut into four triangles, and you give him his sippy cup as well, but Basil only stares down unhappily at the food.

"Jellies?" He asks, his tiny button nose wrinkling.

"Yeah, Baby, I made you toast and jelly." Your heart clenches, anxiety rising, but you try to keep your voice chipper.

"Nuh-uh!" He insists, pushing the plate away.

"Oh, I'm sorry. We don't have the usual jelly. Do you wanna try this instead?"

Your son looks at you with wide eyes, rapidly filling with tears. His lower lip wobbles, and his brow furrows angrily. Times like these it's almost crazy how much he looks like...

No, focus!

"It's good, I promise. Wanna see? Mama will have some." You take a bite of one of the triangles and make a show of smiling. "Mmm! So yummy! It's really tasty!"

"No!" Basils yells in response, his tiny tears now falling. Hangry isn't a good look on the little guy.

"Ahhh, we gotta get you something to eat, huh, bud."

"Jellies!" He blubbers, only barely understandable through his tantrum. Buddy the Maschiff jumps up, placing his front paws on Basil's feet, trying to get at the food, and Basil complies, shoving it down to the pup.

You sigh. "Alright."

Buddy re-enters his ball, still chewing the bread, and you take Basil from his high chair, depositing him in his stroller.

"We'll go to the market and get your good jelly, okay? Super duper fast, then we'll come home and have a feast."

Basil is still crying, but the promise of his good jelly seems to placate him somewhat.

It'll be fine anyway. The market is only a short walk from your apartment building, and you'll only be out for a few minutes. 

The journey there is easy. Basil's stroller is one of those fancy transforming models that's great for all kinds of terrain while also being pretty light. It helps that the market is all outdoors, too. Less helpful is the fact that the stalls are fairly narrowly placed beside one another. At least it feels that way with all the people around, but it isn't overly cumbersome to navigate.

"Jellies!" Basil starts to whine as you approach the stall that he's come to learn has his favorite snack. He starts making grabby hands towards the jars along the table, and you attempt to quietly stop him.

"Yup! They've got your jelly here. Once I pay, you can hold the jar, if you like. Sound good?"

"I pick, I pick!" Basil insists, arching his tiny body as best he can away from the stroller's restraining buckle.

"Hey now," You press a soft but firm hand against him, guiding him back to his seat. "I'll let you pick, but you have to be polite. Say please and thank you to the salesperson, kay?"

Your son huffs, squirming a bit more before collapsing against the seat. "I be good. I good." He grumbles, and you're finally able to unbuckle him and take him up in your arms.

"Okay now. Can you ask for what you want?" You give the salesperson a thankful smile as you speak to Basil. They seem willing to be patient with your little one.

"Jellies!!!" He cries gleefully.

"Jellies, what, bud?"

"Jellies, pease!!!"

"There you go... We're gonna get some oran berry jelly." You tell the salesperson, already reaching into your bag with the hand that isn't carrying Basil. "Remember, these are glass, so you gotta hold it gently."

Basil carefully (or as carefully as a nearly-two year old can) chooses a bright blue jar, holding it in both of his hands.

Gently, so as not to jostle Basil enough that he drops his prize, you rearrange him on your hip, freeing an arm to reach into your bag, so you can pay the shop keeper. 

That's when you hear it. Not particularly loud compared to the hum of the crowd, but clear as day anyway.

The sound of your name being called gives you pause. You look around. It's not uncommon for you to be recognized, but you're already on edge. Hopefully it's just a fan or something?

–

You heard him. From the way you stopped and looked around, hiking the kid up just a bit higher on your hip as you distractedly tried to find the source of his voice, it was obvious.

It isn't an overly crowded market, but there are definitely enough people milling around that quick travel isn't really feasible from where he stands, particularly if he wants to get closer.

He calls your name again, louder this time. Before it had almost been breathless, filled with surprise, hurt, delight, just a tumultuous storm of emotions tearing through his stomach at the sight of you, the sight of his little carbon copy in your arms. Now he's really trying to get your attention.

You pinpoint him, and Arven waves, his bulky form helping to differentiate him from the rest of the crowd.

He... He can't read your face. You look like a deerling caught in Flash. He watches as you quickly shuffle, taking your boy (his boy?) away. Are... Are you for real fleeing from him? He calls your name again, trying to move closer to your retreating form, but it's no use. He makes it to the stall where you were before. He's positive of it because you left the stroller behind, and judging by the yelling from the salesperson, you made off with some product without paying. It's a no-brainer for him to lay down the cash needed, assuaging the anger of the clerk. Arven also grabs the stroller, giving a nervous laugh about how forgetful you must be before he starts trekking with it in the direction that you fled.

Except. He quickly realizes that's not really gonna get him anywhere. He has no idea where you live. Yeah, he knows where you used to live, almost 3 years ago, but that was basically a shoebox, a place to store your supplies while out and about as a champ. No way you're there still. Not with a kid. Right?

He eventually takes a seat on a bench close to the market, keeping the stroller next to him. You've gotta come back for it soon, right? Even then though, he has no idea how long it might take you to come back. 

Once again, Arven desperately wishes you hadn't blocked him way back when. He pulls out his phone, hoping to shoot you a text, on the off-chance that maybe you unblocked him at some point maybe?

Me: Hi, Buddy!

is all he types before seeing the tell-tale red messaging, showing that the number is indeed still blocked. Ugh.

Fuck, maybe...maybe he could use a pay phone or something? Just to tell you where your stroller is. But are there even any pay phones anymore?

As it turns out, they do still exist! There's one just on the edge of the market, so Arven makes his way over, pulling out his phone to copy your number once he's in the booth.

Except.

That's not a Paldean area code he sees. It's Kalosian. Yes, it's your name as the contact, and it's your final, nasty message to him there in the texts, but....it's not your number. There's not even a call history that goes back that far for him to try and grab the number that he just can't seem to remember entirely. He used to have it memorized, once upon a time, the two of you having been the other's emergency contact for so long, so he knows he's not crazy. That number...

He realizes on a second glance that the number is affiliated with Bon Applintit. It's got the same starting numbers after the area code.

What the hell happened to--

"Arven!!!!" The cry of his name startles him out of the thought, but he tucks it away for later. There's something very, very off going on, beyond the kid and everything. Which also??? Kinda absolutely bonkers. He's not gonna lie to himself. He also can't think too hard about it.

"Arven!" Nemona pulls him from that dizzying train of thought, as well as the phone booth. "I've been sent to just, uh...grab this from you..." She tells him, awkwardly trying to work her way around him to grab at the stroller's handlebars. "Ya know... Mama and Basil need it and all." She laughs a bit uncomfortably, continuing her attempt to pry the pram from him.

"Basil?" He says out loud, the name punching him harder than any Hitmonchan. His fists clench tighter around the bars.

Nemona slaps a hand over her mouth, allowing Arven to angle the stroller away from her. "Were you not supposed to know? Ah, gosh darn it!"

"I mean--!" He starts defensively. "I guess?! I never knew about...about any of this!" He gesticulates wildly. "When was anyone gonna tell me about Basil, huh? What the hell, Nemona!?"

She gives him a strange look, her lips pursed and brows quirked. "You... You really had no idea?" She crosses her arms, studying Arven's expression. "Hold on."

Nemona takes out her phone and starts texting. Arven does his absolute best to be patient, but with every passing second he's growing more agitated. 

"Okay, listen! Someone has GOT to tell me what's going on!" He eventually bursts. "Who IS this kid? Why does she have him? Why does... I mean, why does the kid look like me? Everyone's been treating me like shit since I got here, and none of it makes any goddamn sense! If anyone cares to hear MY side of the story, she blocked ME! And to my knowledge it was just over a few missed calls! I thought she was just overreacting! I had no idea about any of this!" His anger over it all, over getting shunned by his friends years ago, over Clavell’s insults, comparing him to his father, it all bubbles over, and he’s letting it out on Nemona. 

She hushes him with a sound and a not-so-placating finger, not bothering to even look up as she texts with a single thumb. "Hold on, hold on, hold on..." The patronizing nature of it all pulls a huff from Arven, whose grip on the handles of the strollers is so strong his knuckles go white.

His friend locks the screen and looks back to him. Her gaze is steady and serious, in stark contrast to her typical jovial self.

"Okay. I believe you, amigo. You say you've got no idea what's going on? I'm sorry to hear that. I really, really wish I could just tell you everything. Or at least, what I think is everything? But this isn't really my place. Not my mankey, not my circus. I'm just the mankey's fun tia, y'know?" She tries to lighten the mood a bit, but it absolutely falls short. "But. For real, this isn't the kind of chisme I enjoy. Not when it involves any of you. I'm talking to her now." Nemona shakes the phone in her hand. "I'm gonna see if she's willing to hear you out."

"Hear me out? She was the one--"

"That isn't how anyone here knows the story, Arven. At least what she's been able to bring herself to tell of it. I don't think any of us can claim to know all the details, but do you think she'd lie to make you look bad? Really?"

That seems to give Arven pause. At least long enough for Nemona to check the latest message from you. She smiles.

"She's on her way to the Treasure Eatery and will meet with you there. Be sure to bring the stroller."

--

Arven makes it to the restaurant before you. It isn't really surprising, given your detour to the league building to drop Basil off with Nemona for a bit. He ought to thank his lucky stars for Nemona pleading his case to you, saying he seemed to be genuinely confused and distraught over the situation. Otherwise you wouldn't have bothered. This is...exhausting to think about. Facing him. Trying to figure out what he wants. Why he came.

You won't lie, your initial thoughts as you rushed home with Basil tucked tightly in your arms, shielding him from his father, were rather dark. Was Arven here to try and take him? Did he think he could use your baby as some kind of prop in his social media videos? People go crazy for dads after all.

But, no. If you're honest with yourself (like Nemona urged you to be) that's not the man you knew. You couldn't imagine him becoming someone like that either, especially if he didn't want to be a dad in the first place... Beyond that, if you think rationally for a moment, there isn't a court in the world that would order your toddler son to another country without you.

No, this...this will be safe. It will be scary. To see him again. But. There's no need to think there's danger. It will just be kind of scary. And you can deal with scary, if only for a few minutes. 

"Hey." Your voice sounds drained as you drop your bag on your side of the booth and follow behind it to sit. You want to look at him. Look him in the eye and ask him what his deal is, but you just can't summon that brand of bravery.

"Hey." His tone isn't really discernable; you can't guess what he's thinking. "I, uh...ordered your usual drink. Or...What you used to order? If that's cool?"

Sure enough, there on the tabletop is your go-to drink from the Treasure Eatery, a ring of condensation already formed at the base of the glass, dampening the flimsy cardboard of the disposable coaster.

"Oh." It surprises you, that small bit of thoughtfulness. "Thanks." You take the glass in both hands and sip, letting the frosty cold of it ground you before you finally look up to see him.

He's... He's so much like Basil, it makes a lump form in the back of your throat. The nose, the eyebrows, the bow of his lips. You've seen them all every day for almost two years now in the face of your little boy; things you noticed and adored, now mimicked before you. Beyond that, he's still Arven. Time hasn't changed him too terribly much. For an adult, it hasn't been too long, so it's not like he's suddenly grey and withered before you or something. The biggest difference is how he pulls his hair back into a low ponytail, the patchy stubble around his cheeks and chin. He's either growing it out to try something new or just hasn't bothered with a razor for a while.

"Hey." You finally say. Truth be told, if not for your drink, your throat would've gone dry just seeing him again.

"So..." He starts, leading.

"So...you're back."

"Uh. Yeah. The plan was to spend the weekend clearing out my old storage....and...head back to Lumiose..."

"'The plan was?'" You ask.

"W-Well, I mean... I. I don't think I can just go back now, can I?"

You tense. Why did that feel like an attack? "I don't see why not. You didn't seem to think it was important to, you know, come back before now. What makes you think you have to stay?" Your tone comes off colder, more callous, than your aching heart would otherwise reveal, and it does its job, egging Arven onto frustration.

"I saw Clavell with Basil." He starts, pausing when he notices your flinch at the name. "Then I saw him with you. And... I mean..."

"Oh, so you saw him and now suddenly you care?" You ask, venom dripping more than you'd care to admit.

"What are you saying?!" He grates, volume only as loud as public decorum would allow in the bustling restaurant. "You... You have to be kidding, right? Of course I care! There's... There's a whole kid! Right? Where did he come from, huh? Cuz, like... Those don't just appear! And he's yours, right? He's gotta be! Like, obviously I see my...resemblance, but I see you in him, too!" That surprises you. No one ever found your features in Basil anymore, save for your mom, who made an off-handed comment once or twice about your eye shape or something.

Arven takes your silence as reason to continue "I mean... I've seen my photos from a young age... I..." His anger fizzles out into confusion as he goes on. "I don't want to make assumptions about...about us or what we were? But...looking at that kid, it's gotta be, right? That it was me? That I'm..." He can't say it out loud. "But why? Why didn't you say something? Why did you hide something like that? Cuz, like... I mean...even...even if he were someone else's... I mean, why wouldn't you have said something?"

"Hide it?!" The accusation shocks you into a response. "I never hid anything! I tried telling you for ages, back when you actually picked up the damn phone! You forced me into having to text you about my son! Then you blocked me! I have the receipts, Arven. I don't know what kind of delusion you've got going on in that head of yours, but I never hid my boy from you until I was given reason to! Why would I go out of my way to force a child upon a man who couldn't acknowledge him? Why wouldn't I keep my son safe from someone who didn't have the decency to be there for him? For me?"

Your tone has risen to a point where a few of the surrounding tables have hushed to listen in, and Arven can tell that prying eyes and ears are now on you both. He shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath, an attempt to steady himself, keep from getting more heated in public. 

"Bud." He begins, the old nickname hitting you like a sucker punch. "I never knew. I don't know what happened there, but I promise. I promise on Mabosstiff's life that I had no clue about any of this. I think there had to have been some kinda mix up..." You watch as cogs turn in his head. "I think... I'm thinking maybe something happened with my phone." He says, pulling the device from his pocket. "Like... Lemme just try and make this clear from my end. Okay? I got this text from you..." He starts, tapping the screen. "It was kinda mean, and when I tried to respond, I was blocked." He holds up the conversation for you to read.

>Hey! Sorry we keep missing each other lately! I hope things are okay? Are you staying warm? It's getting kinda cold here.

>can we not do this?

>Not do what?

>"This" i'm getting real fuckin tired of you bailing on me all the time now that your some hot shot kalosian celebrity guy

>Whoa. Where is this even coming from??

>you kno exactly where its coming from, arven. Youve been super shitty to me since you left paldea and it really hurts my feelings.

>I'm sorry? I've been busy here. It's been a lot getting used to a whole new place and a whole new language. I thought you understood that. I really am sorry though.

>y'know what? I dont really care at this point. Ive had enough waiting around for you to call me or text me back. there are guys here who can do better by me

>[One Missed Call]

>[One Missed Call]

>[One Missed Call]

>Are you being serious right now? You can't be. This is a joke?

>[One Missed Call]

>[The number you are trying to reach has been disconnected and is no longer in service.]

Your face pales and stomach sinks as you read it. "Arven, I--"

"I just noticed earlier when I tried calling you about the stroller. That isn't even your number. It's Kalosian. It's... I think it's affiliated with my company? I can't be sure yet, but..." He locks the screen and puts his phone down. "I know now that you never sent those messages, and that somehow I lost everything related to your contact. So...whatever you might've sent...it isn't here. I couldn't have seen it."

With a nearly shaking hand, you grab his phone and open it back up, still remembering his old passcode (Mabosstiff's Pokedex number). "Hold on..." You absolutely sent a message. Whether it was deleted or not... You check his blocked numbers, knowing that on your end, you've been blocked since back when you first told him about the pregnancy. "Yup..." You show him the screen. There among several spam numbers was your own. "You blocked me."

Arven opens his mouth to argue. "Or, I guess," You continue before he has a chance to interrupt. "I was blocked... somehow? I still... I don't see how this could have happened..." You set the phone down and fish out your own from your bag. "Here." It only takes a moment to pull up your old conversations. "You can read for yourself what I tried to tell you."

>Hey! I know this isn't ideal, and I really would have rather said it in person or over a face call or even just a regular call, but I think you need to know, and I'm having a really hard time verbalizing it to you. I'm sorry to do it this way, but it's better to say it now than not at all, right?

>I'm pregnant, and it's yours.

>I'm so, so, SO sorry! I promise I didn't mean for it to happen like this, and I'm not trying to like…baby trap you or something. I swear! You're my best friend in the whole world, and I'm so happy that you can go and live your dream in Kalos right now. But I just feel like you should know? Like you should have a say in what happens here? I'd love to talk to you. Do...do you want to do this? Because....well if you're willing I'd want to try this. With you. But I also know that you're living your dream right now, and I don't want to get in the way of that! I want you to be able to really embrace this new journey you're taking and learn and grow and do wonderful things! But I just wanted you to know, you know? Please don't hate me. Just give me a call when you have a minute, and we can figure this out. Okay?

. Then after several months, you’d sent a picture. Just a simple selfie of you, looking exhausted beyond belief, hair tamped down to your head with sweat, but still smiling. In your arms is a tiny bundle with a little purple hat, face looking squished and wrinkly and perfect. Arven knows exactly what he’s looking at before he’s read your final message.

>He's here. I don't know if you care, necessarily? But... I love him so much, and I don't understand how you couldn't, so I thought I should share.

You watch as Arven tears up, holding your phone like a tiny, precious creature. "I never knew. I... I swear I didn't." He swallows. "My...my team... They all have access to my phone. Something must've... Someone, I guess..." He shudders then looks to you, resolute. "I'll figure it out. But." Arven looks at your hand on the table then flexes his own, curling and uncurling it from a fist. "I... I wanted to know. I should've known. I'm so sorry this happened..."

"Me too..." The anger and fear and sadness you had churning in your gut this whole time slowly begins to still. You don't know how to feel exactly about the misunderstanding, but you know Arven. You know he isn't lying to you, and to hear him apologize for all of this... It's like a weight off of your soul.

Arven pauses, gathering himself then stares you in the eye. "I was supposed to leave tomorrow, head back. Fuck that. I need to be here. I need to see him.”

It's another punch to the gut, and on instinct, you respond. "No."

[fischlslays]

Ok i saw that you were s̶u̶f̶f̶e̶r̶i̶n̶g̶. So why not u do a Todoroki x reader fluff? It's like the reader is a new kid at school and she is roomates with Todoroki.

※The reader is female

※The anime is My Hero Academia.(MHA)

-Muichiro Tokito☁🌫

Roommate [MHA]

Pairing: Shoto Todoroki x F!Reader

Warning: mention of bullying. Fluff. Roommates

♡

Listen to this besties:

Why did I recommend these? First, because I wrote it while listening to them, second, because I can.

♡

Friendly Reminder: This was not my idea as you see, @ask-muichiro-tokito is the one who bought it up, and as a reply for her, here ya go..! ♡ I want to thank @slutsssphobia for her/their supportive messege, I'm really happy :) (screaming*) BTW, check out her account, I'll list accounts to follow at the end of this post :) Add: Tf?! I have 51 followers?! Thx yall😭💅

♡

Another Reminders: Drink some water, even though if its hard, and for my eating disorder girlies I relate, YOU CAN DO IT! I love you, so does your crush. You slayy. Please listen to Britt Barbie. How does it feel to be the hottest alive?

♡

Enjoy? ♡

Y/N, the new student transfers to the popular and mysterious academy were people who were born with powers learn to control it, you wonder if you're gonna find real friends this time..

At your very first day of school, you walk around, wondering what would happen, since you were bullied at your old school for being unique, but what are you afraid of this time? While daydreaming, you bump into someone with a muscular figure, you could tell it was a guy, but who?

You look at him with embarrassment,

"I- I am sorry..! I didn't mean to bump into you!" You say while lowering your head.

The guy with red and white hair was visibly confused by your actions.

"Are you ok? You don't need to apologise, you know.." he says while placing one of his hands on your shoulder.

You watch him walk away as you find your eyes follow him unconsciously. You feel something tapping on your shoulder.

"Heyy new kid, how are you?" You turn around to see Mina, you put on a smile and talk to her, even though you were talking to her, you find your self zooning out every while thinking about your encounter with that guy. Maybe he was your type, you know that.

♡

You just got your keys, you don't know you is your roommate, you were really hoping for someone who would get along with you.

You place the key in the door hole, as you unlock the door, you see the guy you bumped into sitting on the couch reading a book. You both make eye contact, but he looks back at the book.

"I guess you are my roommate, huh? Welcome.." he says while having his eyes glued to the book.

"Yeah, thanks." You try to hide your face by look back to grab your bags.

You shyly walk to your room, you can feel his eyes following you.

While you were placing your stuff and whatever you shit you have, you hear a knock on the door. You quickly rush to the door and slowly open it, a little bit that only half of your face can be visible.

"Oh, hi" you saw while 'slightly' blushing.

"Well.." the guy in front of you says while placing his hand at the back of his neck. "Since we are roommates, I think we should know each other.."

You nod as you hear him speak, his voice was soothing, you never felt so welcomed, even thought it was the bare minimum?

You follow him to the living room, he sits on a hand chair, while you sit on the couch he was sitting on.

"So, um, what's your name?" You say while trying to start a topic.

"Todoroki Shoto. You?" He says.

"I'm L/N Y/N" you say.

He grabs that thing you open the TV with (I forgot the name) as he opens a show you really like. You lean back at the couch and place your legs on the couch, you grab a pillow and place it in front of your torso.

You both watch in silence, you can't help it, you didn't watch TV that night, you were admiring him.. imagine being roommates with your crush, it reminds you of the fanfics you were reading, but, what would happen?

♡

You were walking in the hallway, you had all the eyes for two reasons, first, because you are beautiful, second, because you are the new kid.

While enjoying your new fame, two girls approach you..

"Hey you." They say

"Yeah?"

"Who do you think you are?" One of them says

"What do you mean?"

"Don't act stupid, I know that you know.."

"Wtf are you talking about?!"

"I heard that you are roommates with Shoto, you better not have a crush on him, he is MINE." On of the girls says.

You stare at her, wtf was she up to? And what makes it worse, you really had a crush on him.

You remember the time you was bullied at your old school, do you really want to be bullied here too? No. You better get your act together.

"So? Thanks for the advice, I'd totally have a crush on him for you. <3" you saw while crossing your arms.

Everyone looks at you, the girls infront of you were visibly angry. It made you happy.

One of the girls pushed you. You fall on your butt. You look at her, she looked satisfied to see you like that.

"What are you doing..?"

You look behind to see who was that.

It's Shoto.

He approaches as the girls start to shake slowly.

"Oh, h-hi Shoto-san." One of the girls says.

He ignores them both and approached you, he gives you his hand. You stare at it, did somebody really stand up for you? You look at his hand wondering whether to grab it or not. But you did at the end.

After he made sure you were ok, he looks at the girls.

"I better not see you bully y/n or anyone.." he says.

The girls nod slowly, as they walk back with embarrassment, and *poff* they were gone.

"People here can be jerks some times, I'm sorry for that."

You look at him. "Yeah, thank you."

He walks away as your eyes again followed him, you are sure that you really like him.

You admire him.

♡

Heyy thanks for reaching this part :)

This one really sucks, it's my first time writing for him.

Pls tell me if you want an other version of this where y/n is confident or whatever.

Love yall

<3

Tags: @ask-muichiro-tokito @sanemis-zubbue @slutsssphobia @sanemis @sanemisfav @sanemiangel

Tell me if you want me to tag you. <3

[infinites-chaser]

//.reverie // mlqc // lucien

print(hello world)

im knee deep in a writing slump bUT i plugged a paragraph of writing into this funky little neural network and kept generating 500 words with it for. an aBSURD amount of time (while also telling it to focus on including the words ‘memory’ ‘dreams’ and ‘color’) and what it spit out was the cOOLEST. and i tried to kinda parse through it to find the most interesting bits and make it slightly more coherent and it ended up being a little like how i’d imagine a series of dreams Lucien might’ve had post ch.18 so i hope someone? enjoys?

warning for non-explicit drug use, general fragmentATion and lack of narrative plot or coherence, the bizarre nature of dreams, spoiler-adjacent content for ch.13 and hinting at stuff from ch.18 onwards

The paragraph the neural network consumed (from watch the universe expand):

"You know, sometimes I think the stars must be lonely," she says, and though he doesn't dare look at her, he hears her both in real life and through the phone speaker cradled close to his ear. He feels rather than sees her move closer to his side of the balcony, closing the distance, coming to the edge.

"They're thousands of light years away from each other," she continues. "Maybe they wonder if they're all alone, sometimes, if they're the only light for miles in an empty, endless dark sea."

"It makes me sad, to think about it. We spend our lives looking up at the stars and casting lines, drawing constellations between them, but in reality, they're just as lonely as we are. Maybe even more."

prelude.

In his dreams, he has color for days, but that's because his memories are always colored with color. He remembers the colors of all the colors, he knows it, because colors fade in real life, colors can be rearranged. They stay the same in dreams. He remembers colors and faces in dreams, with absolute certainty.

He stands up and steps away from the glass, out onto the balcony. As the darkness reaches all the way to the bottom of the floor, he sees shadows in his mind. He recognizes the colors, the colors of dreams, as colors of real life. He can tell his memory is broken in his dreams, with such clarity that he could read an entire newspaper front page through color and dreams.

(He takes a step closer to the blue sky.)

i.

He remembers when he had first been able to see the constellations in the night sky, just a few short years ago, when his eyesight still had the capability to take in so much. They'd wanted to go to a star party, together, where he could be amazed by a whole world of constellations, but he'd turned it down.

"You were scared of strangers," she says. "It's not a strangers-only thing."

"That's true," he says.

"You're still shy," she says.

"I never was shy,” he says.

I never really grew up, he thinks.

ii.

He feels her warm breath. The scent of her.

"Do you think they look down at us and feel the loneliness of millions of years alone?"

"The stars? I've always imagined they might."

“Do you think they wonder about us, too? Or feel sorry for us?”

He scoffs.

“What’s there to wonder about?”

She shrugs. Her eyes look as distant as the stars. As cold.

"The sadness of losing one's entire species and the companionship of someone who sees and understands the beauty of the stars because of what we lost. Or the loneliness of knowing our species won't survive the disaster we caused."

“What do you mean,” he starts. Her lips curve up into a mockery of a smile.

“You know what,” she breathes. “Ares.”

(He wakes. Calls the dampness on his cheeks a nightmare’s cold sweat and not tears.)

iii.

He shrugs.

“We forget, don’t we? The world moves on. We move on.”

"That's not the way it is,” she says. “The best love in life comes from time spent with another person, the love that never fades or leaves you in darkness, like memories do. Sometimes, it's not the love we give each other but the love we receive from each other. I don't know, I guess the answer would depend on the person."

"Maybe the stars never forget their dreams,” she says. “Or the people they knew, or their color. Maybe they never lose the ability to recognize and remember what they're drawn to. Or maybe they can never forget the color of your eyes."

iii, ii.

“We forget, don’t we? The world moves on. We move on.”

(Do we? He thinks. Thinks they’ve been here, standing atop this balcony before. Thinks he's seen her eyes turn cold. Thinks he's seen her cry.)

He shrugs.

"No," she says quietly, but softly, still looking at the stars, still thinking about the comfort she gave him. (It's never enough, always, to fill the emptiness, the longing, the memories that must remain buried inside him.)

"I don't believe that. I know that the stars up there are as lonely as us, because they're like us, they love each other, they care for each other, they care for us, and love keeps us warm in the cold. Love is the one thing that can save us."

"You're right," he says. (Holds her close. Wishes he could do the same while awake.)

"Love really can save us. I have faith in that. No matter what happens, no matter what we do, we have to find ways to love each other and hold on to each other."

v.

"Do you remember the dreams you've had about the colors, or the faces of the people in the colors?"

She laughs softly. "I can never forget you, or your color, or the color of that sky in your memories, now. But that picture might look a little different in the morning light. Right now, I can't see it very well. You know, sometimes it's hard to remember what color the sky looks like in your memory when it's bright outside. It doesn't really feel like a real memory. You've said that yourself, at least."

"No, I haven't," he says. "It's just a memory."

"A memory?" she asks.

"A memory?" she repeats. “It’s always memories with you.”

He can't tell if she's laughing or not, or if she's teasing him or not.

“What do you mean?”

"It’s a secret,” she says. “You could always just ask me in real life.”

(I can’t, he thinks, but can’t say. Can't remember why.

He wakes.)

vi.

"Color?" she repeats. "Color?"

"Yes," he says. "You're color. You're always ... different, in my memories."

She laughs. "Maybe that's a good thing. Maybe we remember our lives as they were, not what we wish they were. Maybe that means we can forgive ourselves a little more.”

"For what?"

(She's frozen.

She fades.

For what? He thinks, then wakes.)

vii.

"I think I have colors for months in my memory," she says. "See here?"

"What?"

"Colors. In the moon, or this tree, or maybe the sky?"

"You mean right now?"

"No. All of them, at one time or another."

"What color is the sky?"

She laughs, and her voice is beautiful. She tells him that the sky looks the color of memories and dreams.

But then he asks another question. "When you dreamed last night, what did you dream about?”

"I can't remember all of them," she says. “My dreams. They fade.”

"But you do remember that you were dreaming, back there?"

"I was dreaming. About you."

"Why?"

"I don't know. All I know is that the dream felt like a good one."

"It must have been, if you remember it. Did you have the same dreams when you were growing up?"

"Yes," she whispers. "Sometimes."

(“Sometimes I think we must’ve met in one.”

“What?”

“A dream."

"That'd be nice, wouldn't it?")

viii.

“The stars,” she murmurs. “Do you think they dream? Do you think they can escape?"

"Perhaps they can, to some extent," se says. "I'm not sure it works for everyone."

She asks him to step into the blue sky with her. To escape. To return.

"Can you go back? I haven't asked anyone to go back yet, but maybe you can."

He takes a step, closing his eyes. He remembers the color of this blue sky, and he remembers dreaming and dreaming. He remembers colors, and colors are real, so they must be real in real life. So he steps forward into the blue sky.

His skin stretches and stretches and stretches, the colors in his skin growing more vivid as he steps further, he gets closer to the sky. The colors disappear in his memory, which can still contain dreams, so that his skin looks almost white, at first. His body elongates until he looks like he's wearing a strange version of a spacesuit, like the one his friends wore when they had to wear oxygen masks on the surface of planets and robots to stay alive.

He hears his echo. It’s saying that he looks lonely. Pale blue dot— he'll drift through space, he'll miss her in the dark, or he won't but he'll be too late, anyway.

It's hard to figure out which colors in the blue sky he's really seeing. He thinks the color of his skin looks like the sky he remembered, but maybe it isn't really the sky he remembers. He sees colors of the people he knew and the colors of the colors of the sky, but he sees colors that are impossible to connect with other colors.

(He surfaces to darkness, insides twisting, writhing, turned snakes by the venom he's made of his blood. He staggers to the sink, spits up poison. Thinks about forgetting. Thinks about taking more.)

ix.

His color is yellow, the color of a sick leaf, and the first of the colors of his dreams.

"Tell me again what color I look like in your memory," she says.

He tries to focus on that part of her, of her memory, where he actually sees her. He thinks about how good her skin looks, how smooth and pale and slightly glowing. He can't remember her color.

"Do I look just like you remember?" he asks.

"Your color is the color of yellow of the leaves, right?"

"Yes," he whispers.

“You’re sick,” she says, and places a hand on his cold cheek, lets it warm.

“Sick,” he echoes, closes his eyes against her touch. Lets himself fade. Lets himself rest. “Perhaps.”

x.

"I don't remember it," he admits. "Your color."

"But you don't want me to, do you?"

She sighs, and for a moment, it seems she's crying. "No," she whispers. "No, not all."

"You didn't want me to know, did you?"

"Yes, I did. I do."

She bites her lip. Looks down. Looks away.

"I want you to remember. Just— not like this. Never like this."

"Why?"

"Because you'd see the way I laugh and the way I'm breathing, and if you just heard it for yourself, you'd know the way I loved your hair when you woke up from the dream that you shared with me. The way you looked when you talked about your life, when you stared up at the sky, seeing the dreams in your eyes."

(He had forgotten them already, because they were beautiful, those memories, and he knew them without remembering their color. Without remembering her name. Without remembering the truth.

The sky, he thinks, is even more vivid than memories.)

xi.

"I don't know," he says. "Why don't I remember? What am I forgetting?"

"I don't know either," she says. "I think...I must've forgotten, too."

"But maybe it doesn't matter— we do remember colors, don't we? As colors really are. Because we can remember them. You know, that's why color blindness must be one of the most terrible things that's ever been born. For a color-blind person, they see the colors of people and things by the color of their eyes, and they can't tell when the color is off. Just like colors are difficult to remember, and colors are difficult to see."

He smiles at her.

"There's one more way, isn't there?"

“To see color?”

“To remember,” he whispers, and lowers his lips to hers. She flinches under him, he steadies her, then she’s limp, his hands tight around her neck and he—

(He wakes.)

xii.

"Why are you here again?" she asks.

He shakes his head.

“I don’t know.”

"We might be in the middle of remembering," she says. "We're both always in the middle of remembering things in the middle of moments."

"Oh, you're an astrologist, then," he mutters, trying to remember the word. It doesn’t sound right. Nothing does.

"Astronomer?" He asks. She shakes her head. She's smiling, but her eyes are dark. Dark and blue.

"It doesn't matter, anyway," she says. "We should probably stop."

"Stop?"

She smiles again, her eyes bluer still.

No, he realizes. Not blue. Sad.

"It's time to wake up," she murmurs. He reaches for her, but it's too late. She fades, and he's left alone drifting under the stretching stars.

(Astronaut, he thinks, between planets and stardust. He remembers.)

...

fin.

"Are you saying I'm color-blind?"

She laughs again.

"Oh, no," she says. "Not color-blind at all. Your color blindness is just a side effect of your memory. You remember some colors well, and it doesn't matter what color the sky or a flower is, you can recognize it. So, yes. Your color blindness is your memory of colors."

"How is it my memory?" he asks, and though he could never be color-blind, he can still remember colors well enough to recognize the colors of the rainbow on the horizon as clouds drift by the sky.

"Maybe your color blindness is what happens when you spend so much time remembering color and color and color," she suggests, and somehow some part of him knows what she means is remembering me. Remembering my smile.

"Oh," he says. He considers it.

They are silent, for a time, until a sound cuts through the night air, crying through his whole body with a low swish of noise. He thinks he hears a whistling, and then it's back again. Then it's different, maybe growing louder, and he wonders if it's a ringing, but the sound gets fainter, so faint that he begins to think he imagined it.

"Is that the whistle?" she asks, and he can hear the alarm in her voice.

"Did it start again? Is this world going to end?" She whispers it, the sound again, and the sound grows closer, an elongated screech. The whistle never ceases.

The whistling sounds in every direction, like a swarm of insects.

And the smell is the worst, the most awful smell, like bad meat, or a stagnant ditch full of mud and dirt and rotten meat. He can barely breathe, and can barely see through the curtain of fog. He stands, reaching toward her, trying to hear her, but everything around him is changing.

"What is it?" she asks, and her voice is lost, lost in the darkness. She is lost. She is gone.

The smell, a putrid odor like rotten meat, begins to affect his mind, and he cannot remember her words.

There's something blue (sad) behind his eyelids. He tries to look and discovers that he can't.

"What's that?" he asks. He's in the clearing, still dressed in the dark color of morning (mourning), and everything is out of place, though he can't see it.

"It's my color. It's blue." He stares at it.

"My favorite color. Blue. And there's something pink around it. Couldn't see that before. It's pink."

The colors, he thinks. Those are colors. The whistling sound, I must have heard that noise before.

(The whistling doesn't sound like whistling at all. It sounds like heartbreak. It sounds like a scream.)

That's why I can't remember her. I remember colors, and it's like there's a wall in my mind, because I remember color, color and nothing else, color and her smile, the beginning, the middle, and not ever the end.

"I remember colors," he says. "Now let me remember her."

And he remembers pink, he remembers the smell. The whistle (the scream).

(Remembers she died. Remembers he wasn't there to save her.)

There's something red on the sand. It's a bouquet of roses he's picked. Pink and red. Roses. The smell, his nose draws in is the scent of roses.

(He knows they smell like her, but the moment's passed. Once again, he can't remember her.

He thinks, he must not have been hers. She must have not been in love.)

epilogue.

It is dawn when he wants to close his eyes and remember. But he tries not to think about it. He closes his eyes slowly, praying silently to the skies, barely able to imagine that the next time he opens his eyes, maybe they'll be different.

"... like his dreams," he whispers under his breath.

"... and her dreams."

"... like everything here." His steps seem slow today. Steady. Better than any other morning. Fresh.

"Just like his memories. Rest easy, Lucien."

(When the apartment door opens, it’s Ares who emerges.)

this is where im legally obligated to tell u I'm slowly being converted to a comp neuro nerd so i went and read the github of the language learning model inferkit uses, megatron-11b, and it'S hella cool but basically if anyone is worried. no it is not trained on the words u provide it-- the sentence structure/word information that the model 'learns' from is scripts made by the dev. so uh. basically, it's 'learned' all it will about language based on these provided scripts of vocab and sentence structure so when you give it a paragraph of writing, all it's doing is 'reacting' to your words by using its memory of these writing rules to predict (and auto-generate) what words it thinks will come next (the algorithm runs a tON of probability computations and this is the 'thinking' and predicting.)

[80s-roger]

Not On My Watch (pt 5)

Pairing: Dad!Roger x Mum!Reader

summary: you’re divorced with queen’s roger taylor due to constant cheating and irrational behaviour towards you. but u have one person in common: your daughter, Laura aka your favourite human on earth. Your marriage with roger had its ups and downs but laura was the happiness in it. Now that she’s 8 and starts to realise how your terms with roger are, you finally tell her that you’re seeing another man except her father and she took it really warmly. She seemed excited to meet the new man unlikely your ex husband who accidentally learns about it by Laura, the weekend you would leave her at his place: on weekends you had some cute getaways with R/N because the court decided that Laura could stay or visit her dad on weekends and stay with him for five days each Christmas and easter vacations. On summers he has the right to be with her for two weeks.

check: masterlist // dialogue prompts

If you haven't read the previous chapters, here they are: part one // part two // part three // part four

note: it wasn’t supposed to be this specific plot, but I promise you the good one is at next one ;)

warnings: flashback scenes, angst, fluff

words: 2,849

taglist: @madeinheavxn​ @namelesslosers​ @stacymaytaylor​ (send me an ask or a message if you want to be tagged)

You set the table, eating like a proper family for the first time in two and a half years. Laura was extremely happy seeing her family reunited. You were telling her stories from the past, which she found intriguing and interesting. You didn't forget mentioning about Roger taking you with him on tour in the United States, a year after started dating. It was the first time you went abroad. You fell for Roger hard. Losing him made you lose yourself too.

"Wow mum, you never told me stories with dad. Fairytales are boring." She gasped after hearing your US experience.

"Why didn't you tell her stories about us?" Roger curiously asked.

"Because at the time, our marriage was going downhill. You know, so I tried to not think of you." You answered.

"Oh.." he didn't have to say something. "So Laura, do you want to hear another story of mum and me?" He asked. Meanwhile, you prepared the dishes for the washing machine. Laura nodded, waiting for the narration.

Flashback

"So you're going out with Kath's friend?" Brian asked Roger.

"Yes," Roger answered while fixing himself at the mirror. "So Kath is your new girlfriend? I thought she was a groupie." He joked.

"Haha, very funny." Brian mocked him. "She's a nice company." He added.

"What about the bone zone?" The blond drummer pondered with a naughty smile on his face.

"That's good too, I don't complain." He shared a laugh with his friend. "So where will you meet her?" He questioned.

"Outside of the pub we met." He answered. "Where should I take her?" Roger nervously asked as if he never went on a date.

"Where do you take most of the girls you like?" Brian asked trying to help him think rationally.

"Bed?" He said back and gained an eye roll from Brian. "But Y/N is so hard to get, I don't know. I'm afraid if I say something wrong she'll lose interest in any second." He mumbled.

"Easy Rog.." Brian tried to calm his friend down. "She agreed to go on a date with you, that's progress, right?" He continued. Roger nodded. "Which means she finds you cute or hot or I don't know how girls describe us." He chuckled at the end making the blond drummer laugh.

"Alright, maybe if I take her to some other pub where we can talk?" Roger thought again.

"Excellent. She's not like the other girls you date, Roger. She's, you know, -" Brian tried to explain what type of girl you are.

"The I-want-the-man-to-chase-me. She's screaming that." Roger described what girl you are and he was right. "It was so hard for me to get to talk with her after our gig ended, I'm even surprised she finally agreed." He added, now wearing his perfume, ready to meet you.

"She likes you, pal. Good luck!" Brian hugged his friend and Roger was on his way to meet you.

You were nervous too. You didn't want to be late. You were used to never arriving on time, but this time, it was a date with a man you liked from the first moment, as much as you denied it. There wouldn't be any other second chance with him, he'd become a famous rockstar.

"There you are!" Roger spotted you coming faster to his place.

"Shit, am I late?" You asked, checking your watch.

"No, no, I just arrived." He was waiting for you, for about ten minutes. But he came at the checkpoint a little earlier due to impatience seeing you.

"Alright then." You stopped a little to catch your breath. Your high heels hurt your feet by walking so fast. But you wanted to look beautiful. The blue dress you were wearing had Roger staring at it and you all the time.

"You look so beautiful Y/N." He gasped as he was checking you out. "Nice dress, nice heels, nice hair, nice you." He ended the compliment with a hand kiss. He really wanted you to catch feelings for him.

"Thank you, Roger." You smiled after receiving his kiss and his compliments. "Where can we go?" You asked.

"There's another pub downtown that plays jazz music and we can talk without shouting." He joked and gently grabbed your hand, opened the door for you and placed you inside.

"Oh, I like jazz." You were surprised that he was probably into jazz. You waited for him to get into his red Renault car.

"Perfect, let's go." He started the engine and nervousness hit your body. You were shaking, feeling like throwing up. A handsome guy next to you, an upcoming legend wants to go on a date with you. "Hey, are you alright?" He asked after stopping at the red traffic light. He checked your hands trembling and gently placed his on yours. "You're not cold, are you?" He asked. You can't be cold on a May night.

"No, I'm just a little nervous." You tried to keep smiling. You're not the tough girl he met a couple of days ago, but a vulnerable nineteen-year-old girl trying to find love.

Roger was feeling split: He had two options in his head. Should he take you to the pub you both agreed or somewhere isolated to talk with no one seeing. That would make you feel more uncomfortable.

"What do you want me to do?" He asked waiting for any answer. "You want me to keep driving or stop somewhere? I promise I won't do anything." He shared his ideas with you. You looked at him confused.

"Could you stop somewhere, please?" You politely asked trying to not sound bitter after your sudden mood.

"Sure, are you alright?" He asked again, trying to find any isolated place for you two.

"Yes, it happens a lot when I'm feeling nervous." You explained.

He didn't say a word. Until he found that place, behind a church, with no soul around. It seemed creepy if you consider you are on the car with a man you met a week ago. But you liked him.

"Listen, if you are feeling nervous, we can call it off." He showed empathy at you feeling awkward.

"No, I won't have another chance with you if we call it off." You got out of the car, trying to get some air. Roger followed your moves, now standing behind you.

"What do you mean?" He asked raising his hands.

"I mean you'll become famous and everything that goes with it and you'll forget about me anyways." You tried to explain.

"Why would I forget you? I like you." He straightforwardly said, sending you shivers.

"I like you too, but I don't want me to love you."  You are a person full of emotions, throwing that to Roger made him feel weird.

"Why are you talking about love? This is a date, not a wedding." He objected.

"Exactly, I'm afraid if we become a girlfriend-boyfriend thing, I'll eventually love you and then things will get nasty." You could look years away. Look at you now.

"Are you nuts? I wanted to get to know you, I want to know you well, be my girlfriend, how do we call these things?" He questioned.

"Relationship." You answered turning around, to face him. "Would you like that? I wanted that for years." You asked trying to hide your desperation. But you couldn't.

"Hold on, you never had a relationship?" He asked confused, coming closer to you.

"Don't make fun of that, I never liked the boys who approached me." You admitted. You could see his eyes, sparkling from excitement because he knew now how inexperienced you were on that part. A hopeless romantic with huge fantasy.

"Well, I'd like to be the one." He smirked and grabbed his hands around your waist, pulled you into his arms and kissed your lips. Your first kiss ever. His lips harmoniously moved onto yours giving them what they needed all this time. Tenderness. "How was that?" He asked, his eyes now focused on yours.

"Amazing." You licked your lips and smiled, not feeling nervous anymore.

"Is the pub still a plan?" He asked.

"Yes." You were so hyped after your kiss you couldn't focus on anything besides Roger. His hand caught yours leading you back to his car.

Flashback ended.

"Wow, mum!" She turned to your place. "Dad was your first kiss?" She asked fully awed by the narration.

"Yes, he was." You blushed as you both looked at each other. He was fluttered by your current reaction. Your first everything.

"Oh dad, tell me more!" She begged for more stories, but it was time to leave.

"No young lady, I need to have some other memories between your mum and me." He playfully berated her. "Besides, we have to take you to Laura." You stood up from the chairs and moved towards the hall, wearing your shoes.

"Mum, will you tell me these stories instead of fairytales?' She asked while Roger helped her once more with tying her shoes.

"Yes, I will." You answered. You wanted to tell her stories about you and her father, but most of these are explicit. Not special for children.

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

Roger drove off to John's house to leave Laura. "I'll take her inside." He declared and you stayed in the car to wait.

"Daddy, what about my stuff?" She asked.

"We're going to mum's place now to take your stuff. We'll come again." He rubbed her head before knocking the door.

"Hey Roger, I was waiting for you now." He smiled at his bandmate and turned his gaze to Laura. "Hello, Laura! The other Laura waits for you inside! Come in!" He kissed her head.

"Bye, daddy!" She hugged him and walked inside the house.

"I'll come back again to bring her clothes and tomorrow's books for school," Roger said.

"Sure. I'm waiting for the details tomorrow." John winked.

"Ah, I see where you're getting with that." Roger laughed. "Just the abstract." He joked and left the grand house to come back to you.

"You have the keys to your apartment?" Roger asked you.

"Yes. And a piper spray for any case." You showed him that, referring to R/N who could wait for you around the corner.

"He won't harm you, over my dead body." He reassured you and placed a kiss on your forehead. "Shall we go?" He asked and you nodded.

There wasn't any talk during the car drive, but that didn't make it awkward. It was a peaceful silence you used to have before the dark days arrived. You couldn't hide your fear though, it was visible. Your hands were rubbing your thighs nervously. Roger, noticed your behaviour and placed his hand on yours. "It's going to be alright. That's why I'm here, with you." He placed his head on yours, giving you a reassuring kiss. You hugged him in return, feeling his scent against your senses. He smelled amazing. His perfume combined with nicotine was what you could characterize him.

You opened your apartment's door, seeing the inside of the house upside down. You knew he would fuck it up. All you could think of was who's going to clean this mess?

"Oh God-" you gasped and closed the door behind you.

"Y/N, don't worry we'll fix this mess together." He reassured you. "Do you think he did it on purpose?" He asked trying to figure out what was R/N's intent.

"Shit." You gasped again, looking at your ex-husband horrified.

"What?" He asked after seeing you turning pale.

"FUCK." You yelled, running to Laura's bedroom, looking for your diary. He knew about it.

You searched for it at the place you're hiding it and thanked your lucky stars it was up there inside the pillows you keep at the closet. "Oh God, oh God, thank you!" You stared above, kicking out all your angst while holding your huge notebook. It was clever of you to hide something personal at your daughter's room, in a cupboard she never uses. Roger followed you and sat next to you.

"Y/N, you alright?" He asked placing his hand at your back. His eyes fell at the notebook you were tightly holding. "What's this?" He curiously asked and tried to hold it but you politely refused. "Oh. Is it personal?" He questioned.

"I was keeping a diary all this time." You confessed.

"A diary? How long?" He asked as he was checking all these used pages.

"Before you." You smiled and scrolled a few of your pages.

"Wow, that's a lot..." he was amused. "So I guess I'm in there, aren't I?" He asked checking for assurance.

"Don't guess. Be sure." You smiled.

"Can I see just one page please?" He politely asked.

"I'll show you my favourite." You seemed too excited to get to a specific page.

Roger next to you was smiling through the entire process, trying to read while pages were fastly zapping, until you stopped somewhere from the first twenty pages. He focused on your point of view, trying to understand what you were writing about.

"Oh, your first time." He awed. After reading the sentence: my heart was beating so fast at the moment he was inside me, even my soul could see his, from our eyes. "I didn't know you were so sentimental about it." His cheeks blushed from everything you wrote.

"Of course I was, it was my first time. I loved you, Roger." You opened your heart to him for one more time. His eyes were wide opened. It was the first time he got to hear from you how you really felt about your first time. He continued reading to the next day, how you behaved after your first time.

It had to happen right? Or not? My parents are going to kill me. It should have happened after marriage. That's what they've been saying all my life. I love Roger but he would never settle for a wedding. He's a rockstar now, he would probably abandon me if I ask him to marry me. I have to keep it a secret.

"Y/N, you never told me that your parents are against sex before the wedding." He was shocked at what you were writing.

"I know, I had to do it, otherwise you'd break up with me. I didn't want that at the time." You said feeling secure now that he's still by your side.

"Oh, baby..." he whispered and kept you in his arms. "Was it too important to your family to keep your virginity?" He asked.

"It was for them to keep it until my wedding night." You started. "But you know? I only wanted to give it to the man I loved so bad one summer night. And it was special for me, you made it all about me." You continued and stayed in his arms for a couple of minutes. "They always believed my first time was at our wedding."

"I think you have to take this with you. It's not safe on its own. We should grab Laura's stuff and drive them off to John's." You both stood up and put your daughter's stuff in a bag.

You got in the car again, still silent. You were just reading random pages from your diary, getting all emotional. From you meeting him, dating him, marrying him, giving birth to his child, divorcing him... You wrote many things in there. It has an emotional value. You knew by now that Roger was the only person you wouldn't bother reading it, after your permission of course, because almost every page has his name on it.

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

After giving Laura her stuff, you went back to Roger's fancy house. You were getting used to getting there. He looked like wanting to stay with you again, without including the disagreements. He opened the door and you both walked upstairs, leading to his bedroom.

"Do you think you should stay here now?" He asked.

"Why?" You returned as you placed your diary at the nightstand.

"That asshole could come to your place, any moment. You're not safe." He explained. "Maybe you should stay here. With me." He came closer to you, his face inches away from yours. You didn't say anything. Just let him do all the work for you.

His kiss was deep and his hands couldn't restrict themselves from touching your waist. These couple of days, you are much closer than you were when your marriage went downhill. You wanted to give it a chance.

"Tonight, I want you to be loud. I missed that." He stated, looking you into your eyes.

"Loud?" You asked, trying to understand his motives.

"Really loud. This is why Laura isn't here." He winked and left his room, going to the bathroom to take a shower.

"You're the filthiest man I know!" You playfully yelled at him.

"Oh, I know love!" He loudly answered from the bathroom and so on, you went downstairs to fix two glasses of red wine. Chilling situations like these, haven't happened since Laura was a baby.

[a-woman-apart]

Watch "I'M BACK! WHY I LEFT YOUTUBE FOR TWO YEARS!" on YouTube

This scared me so badly, because this is EXACTLY what happened in my life, except it was all in The Reverse.

I graduated with an Associate Degree in Music Performance in 2018, but instead of running TOWARDS my dream/calling I ran hardcore AWAY from it. My pride in graduating only lasted a month before I declared myself Utterly Unmarketable and sought to go after a "real degree" and get a Big Girl career.

Between 2018 and 2020 I had major life changes.

My dad died of stomach cancer

I broke up with my neglectful boyfriend

I turned down a Full Ride to a major college

I hospitalized myself for Suicidal Ideation (Sept 2019)

I quit my job of 5 years

I started working for my best friend and became her Office Manager

I started dating the Love of my Life

I lost my friend group and peer support

I lost my mind and left college due to COVID-19 (but not before making one of my best decisions in taking a Screenwriting class because I WANTED not NEEDED it)

Started distancing myself from the toxic women in my life and definining Womanhood/Adulthood for myself

Visited my brother's grave after over a decade of waiting and got closure

Fully acknowledged my childhood trauma/abuse

Rediscovered my sexuality

Was disowned by who I erroneously thought was a close friend of 17 years over my political views

Joined and exited Unity2020

Turned in my car for repossession

Spent a week in the hospital after having a severe, paranoid psychotic break, but came out completely free of the vice of self-consciousness I was living under

You know what is nuts? I feel in many ways, I have completely reverted to who I was in the summer of 2011. I was off my meds, and it WAS mania, but personality-wise, the tempestuous, gum-chewing, cigarette-puffing, flirtatious, humorous, free-spirited ball of fire that drove all the way to Colorado on a whim wasn't rebellious, SHE WAS ME.

I just wasn't Me around the right people, and it wasn't the Right Time.

My inner Sagittarius moon would remain in a dormant state for almost a full decade. I would spend the next 9 years heavily sedated, sleepwalking through life, only alive at The Sound of Music.

It was Torture to feel so much but be afraid to express myself. I had to Hide while doing a major that demanded that I Command Attention. I am by nature "dramatic", "theatrical", "emotional", "expressive" but that part of me was so suppresed that I was frequently told I sang with excellence but without emotion.

Aside: During my 2011 manic episode, I spoke a lot about Doppelgangers. Without going into excessive detail, this is a German word that means "Double" and it is considered bad luck to encounter yours.

In the past 2 weeks, I have encountered people that look/sound like me (Josephine is Nigerian-Canadian and I am Nigerian-American and I kept thinking about her work even though I initially disagreed with her lot) and a woman with my name (different spelling) who was NOTHING like me and I also think might've had malice in mind for me.

I was DEFINITELY an agnostic atheist when I started this year, but as a result of undergoing so much weird shit I almost certainly believe in God, and yes, "God is a Woman." (More on that later)

Also, I realized that I really DID, as many teenage girls, "lose interest in math and science" but that was because of the terrible, unfactual way it was presented in my homeschool curriculum and by my mom, who was a Math major but whose disinterested detachment made every algebra lesson an excercise in torture.

I have always loved biolology and anatomy and I remember so much more chemistry than I thought. Geology class in community college was amazing and also helped me understand-- even more than the Theory of Evolution-- why young earth creationism was completely impossible.

As for math, I spent 15 years thinking it was my greatest weakness when I have had to use arithmetic in cashiering, my managerial work, and my monthly budget for the last 7 years. Also, as annoying as it was to hear constantly, my mom parroting "What you have to do to one side, you have to do to the other" (but in reverse) gave me the ability to do Algebra quickly and (mostly) effortlessly. I could never get A's, but I got a B in Quantitative Mathematics with no real help aside from occasional teacher input and the "Help me solve this" function of MyMathLab.

Here is where it Gets Weird. I am a Creative. I have been writing stories since I was 6 years old. I have loved Story all my life. My parents were in math and science fields and they completely lacked any creativity. COMPLETELY. It was part of why they were so religiously rigid, authoritarian, and draconian. There was no room for spontaneity or childish imaginativeness.

Looking back, I had major sensory and processing issues. I was likely speech delayed, I learned to read late, and I recently confirmed that when I am stressed my dyscalculia kicks in bad (it IS real). Numbers and symbols get really interchangeable (like an 8 and infinity symbol become kinda the same) which is why I had to recite phone numbers out loud to remember them or write them on colorful backgrounds so I can see them in my head as an image. Also explains my aversion to math but my ease with fractions (1/2 is half a sandwich, etc).

My spatial awareness is also shit when stressed. Before I turned in our car, I had earned the nickname "U-turn" from my boyfriend because on that Floating Death Machine left and right got completely crossed, frequently.

By the way, I struggled with right and left until I WAS EIGHT YEARS OLD. I literally didn't understand the concept of a mirror and 3D space, meaning that the basic understanding that my right is someone else's left didn't come into play until I had an argument with my [now-deceased] brother about it.

What is so weird, is that because of years of correcting for these issues, my sense of direction, ON FOOT is good, if not better than most people. Also, once I realized that, given the opportunity, I very much do whatever I can with my left-hand, and that my hearing is MUCH better than I even thought, I am far less clumsy. Depth perception is still crap, but that is probably also because I was forced to spend years without the glasses I needed (and got earlier this year after living with chronic eye strain)

When I talk about these "issues" it is in line with female autism, but you know what? If really do have adult autism, then I am a Complete Boss because I have pwned that ho.

After being rehospitalized, a kind nurse suggested I may have PTSD and suggested medicine for insomnia and nightmares. It was extremely helpful. I had been looking into C-PTSD for a while, because I didn't think I had "suffered enough" to have "real" PTSD. But that isn't how diagnoses work.

Btw, I still have Bipolar I, Psychotic Features. Another kind nurse told me I don't need anti-psychotics, and no, I don't. I was given Zyprexa by a bitch nurse and it was like getting drunk. I stumbled the halls, almost fell over (possibly did) and woke up with a neon "Fall Risk" bracelet. Anti-psychotics also fucked up my menstrual cycle for years and I have had lingering hormonal isssues. Haha no thanks.

Anyway, I digress. Of course I am fucked up. I lived under family members who questioned my reality, attempted to crush my dreams, threatened me with physical punishment any time I behaved in non-neurotypical ways, violated my rights and interfered with my treatment even though I was a full legal adult, undermined my relationships, tortured and socially isolated me, etc., all under the guise "of knowing best."

In minority cultures, our darkness hides in plain sight, and ESPECIALLY in the Bible Belt, with its supeestition and idolization of familial hierarchy/patriarchy, victims of financial, spiritual, emotional, and physical abuse have no where safe to turn. The Long Arm of the Law is often Short when it comes to "breaking up the family", and women and children are victimized openly with little to no intervention.

On top of doing my Creative Work, I plan to create legislation to make sure that what happened to me and my siblings isn't allowed to go unpunished. We lost my older brother, and I almost died, too, but Enough is Enough.

The Time is Now.

P.S. If Josephine is an Air Nomad I identify as a Water Bender. I basically have no water in my astrological chart, but water signs bring me great comfort in times of need (and make bad romantic partners for me obviously)

Also, this is one Bad Biyatch.

I also found out I am an ISFJ, not INFJ. Yep. Gonna be a Playwright and Director. I want to be a part of the action, not just writing about it.

[verobatto]

Destiel Chronicles

(Vol. VIII)

It was a love story, from the very beginning.

(5x01)

Number 42 is a very Destiel number

Hello my friends, here we are now starting season 5 with this Destiel Chronicles.

I want to give special thanks to @agusvedder because she made the gifs for this meta here and discussed with me the episode. Thanks girl! 😘💕

Ok..

I can't believe you're gone

When Dean and Sam were on Earth again, one of the first things Dean said was WE NEED TO FIND CAS.

He knew they weren't alone now, they had a strong Ally be their side. And he was proud of it.

But when they arrived to Chuck's place... Reality hit him.

Castiel was dead... He couldn't believe it... He helped him to save his brother and try to stop Lucifer and now he was dead... He gave his life for them...

He try to give an excuse, because he didn't want to hear the truth.

But then... This happened...

That was the proof. Castiel was really dead. Because of him...

Look at Dean's face, he swallowed hard, and he looked to a side, with sadness.

Dean is trying to handle with that pain. Why? If you were going to help us? Why are you dead??

And then Zachariah arrived... With a very manipulative speech again, Dean didn't bought those words and immediately used the sigil to send them far away from there.

And he proudly said...

Giving honor to his friend.

Ruby/Sam as an early Destiel mirror

Aaand this is dedicated to my friend @poorreputation , she was always screaming about this mirror, and well... Here I found this example. Enjoy this gift girl.

When Dean and Sam were in the motel, Sam brought amulets...

SAM: Here. Hex bags. No way the angels will find us with those. Demons, either, for that matter.

DEAN: Where'd you get it?

SAM: I made it.

DEAN: How?

So yeah... Dean learned the sigil from CAS... And Sam from Ruby, a demon he was sexually attracted... Nothing to see here... 😏

Another thing I want to point here, not about Ruby, but about Meg... This happened too in this episode

Meg, the female demon, kissed Dean. I just want you to keep this image, because later on this season we will have an almost kiss between Castiel and her... You know about the indirect kiss, don't you? 😏💕 (May I point here that in season 6 CAS and Meg actually KISS EACH OTHER? Ok. Nothing to see here 2.0)

42, a very meaningful number...

They went straight to find "the sword of Michael" to the storage of John Winchester...

And here is the thing about 42, has a couple of VERY INTERESTING MEANINGS. And I will share it with you...

Is the answer to the meaning of Life, the Universe and everything, and that's because Douglas Adams wrote a book named "Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy" in which he told the story about aliens that build a robot/machine and the machine answered 42 when they asked about the meaning of life. Of course that was a mistake from this robot, and everything was like a kind of joke. That could be related to this lie angel constructed to get to Dean and Sam. They thought they were going to find the solution for their problems with Lucifer, but they found a joke. A trap.

Talking about biblical numbers, the 42 is the number of the Antichrist... His evil efforts will last 42 months in the end time: "Then the angel gave me a measuring rod like a staff, saying, "Arise and measure the temple of God, and the altar . . . and they shall trample upon the holy city for forty-two months" (Revelation 11:1 - 2) I know we had an Antichrist later in this season, remember? But the Bible talks about the devil here, so ... Accurate with the storyline.

Ohhhhh and here comes the jam... It is too the atomic number of one element named molybdenum, you can say why the hell I'm so excited about this thing? Because if you If you go through molybdenum with light, a rainbow is born. And... You know... Dean was the molybdenum here because...

Yes! There's the light, the light from Castiel going though Dean's heart, giving born a beautiful rainbow of love 😏💕. Are you impressed with your angel Dean? He surely is happy to see him alive... And healthy...

Castiel is back, and he will protect the WINCHESTERS with his life. He carved in their bones a enochian protection against Angels. There he is, the strong Ally of humanity.

When Dean and Sam asked him about why he was alive, Cas just flew away, and the search of God began.

To conclude:

Dean couldn't believe Castiel was dead, and he could see the pain and the guilt in his face. A very early reaction to Castiel's death.

The dark relationship between Sam and Ruby, both of them sexually attracted to each other, was one of the first Destiel mirrors in the show.

The number 42 was an Easter Egg in my reading full of meanings for our delight.

The camera was focused on Dean the whole time Castiel appeared fighting as the bamf!angel of the Lord he was back then. On Dean. Focused on Dean. Again. On purpose.

Cas is now the strong Ally of the WINCHESTERS, a fallen angel, and he will protect them with his life.

Thanks to everyone for reading this. I hope you could enjoy it! C-u in the next volume!

Tagging @metafest @gneisscastiel @mrsaquaman187 @magnificent-winged-beast @emblue-sparks @agusvedder @weirddorkylittlediana @michyribeiro @castiellover20 @whyjm @koshisekisen @legendary-destiel @a-bit-of-influence @thatwitchydestielfan @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @lykanyouko @evvvissticante @cheerstofandomfamily @drsilverfish @savannadarkbaby @angelneedshunter @trickster-archangel @dea-stiel @poorreputation @bre95611 @thewolfathedoor @charlottemanchmal @neii3n @deathswaywardson @followyourenergy @dean-is-bi-till-i-die @hekatelilith-blog @avidbkwrm @anarchiana @mishka-the-angel-of-saturday @dickpuncher365 @vampyrosa @hippyatheart80 @xsghn @foxyroxe-art @authorsararayne @anonymoustitans @mybonsai1976 @love-neve-dies @wildligia @dustythewind @wayward-winchester67

Note: If you want to be tagged on this list, please let me know in this thread.

Buenos Aires April 21th 2019 1:00 AM