#as a matter of fact I really fucking wish I was in the desert daily

[barracudablue]

This ad is so directed that it’s even in the right color scheme.

#yeah I DO hate it here #as a matter of fact I really fucking wish I was in the desert daily #joyce kilmer is nice though #pretty

[kyle-valenti]

burnout only feels like burning

2.7k / Summary: kyle valenti doesn't have the same quarantine as his friends; an exploration of kyle's trauma during covid as a doctor. (tw depression & other triggers you’d imagine with this subject)

read & comment/ ao3

A little like the virus itself, Kyle’s relationship with his mask begins with worry, annoyance, and then pain. He’s more than happy to have the proper N-95 mask as they begin to get their first case at Roswell General but then a couple more patients trickle in and within a few days his skin is irritated and itching. Maybe it’s the news, maybe it’s the texts from his friends that he’s increasingly missing, but when the Regiment starts spouting off about how COVID is a joke he thinks it might be affecting his nerves too. By week three his former red mark left by the mask has become a permanent feature to his face and by week five it’s not a mark but a bruise instead. Blisters and cracks in his skin litter his hands from over-washing. His feet become so overused the pads of his feet feel numb and bruised and he wears through an entire pair of shoes.

Positivity has fled from his life by week seven and now he’s inside of a survival mode he’s never experienced. He thought after last year he’d be used to anything the world (or universe, rather, given all these aliens) could throw at him. Now what feels foolish, he had believed that there was nothing that could be worse than the previous pain of losing a patient or finding out his father had experimented on people’s lives. 

When he’s out of ventilators and CPAP machines because Albuquerque needs them more and he has to choose whether or not to save the life of an eighty five year old or a thirty two year old he remembers from high school, he breaks.

 Guilt is one thing, grief is another, but the pure rage he feels knowing that Max Evans is out on the town patrolling as some fucking cop and not someone who could heal most of this hospital makes him want to commit actual murder. Maybe trading the blood of an alien on his hands would feel less heart-wrenching. But no. Max had brought back Rosa and had paid the price. Quelling his anger, he went back to work.

 He slept at the hospital most nights in the height of it. Sure the couch was rough, but it was better than the other on-call doctor beds down the hall. Three twelve hour ER shifts of a usual work week doubled to five days of thirteen hour shifts. Soon there’s a week where he pulls double shifts for an entire week when one of his nurses is urgently hospitalized herself. Hospital directors had left them with no PPE except contaminated masks to reuse. Maria, Isobel, and Rosa are in the forefront of a drive to make and donate masks to his hospital after some social media posts that he doesn’t even see until the cloth masks arrive and his medical assistants give him their handwritten note. It makes him smile, but smiling feels so foreign that he almost wants to break from that.

 Visitors are no longer allowed which means Kyle isn’t allowed to use his bedside manner to comfort the family of patients. He has to facetime mothers, spouses, and children and hold the phone over a patient who can’t breathe without machine assistance and pretend that everything is fine and that there’s still hope despite the hypoxia and lack of rising vitals. Ignore that if the patient goes into cardiac arrest more than once, the kindest thing to do given prognosis is to let the patient pass. Resuscitation and DNR (a patient’s begging request to not be resuscitated) becomes a word he uses in his daily work and not simply for intense surgeries.

 Exhaustion isn’t a deep enough adjective to describe the fugue state he goes into. File to file, room to room, ventilator to next… he isn’t surprised when his body starts to wear down. When he no longer feels hunger and instead feels all too hot and dizzy. Telling himself it’s just because of how much he’s exerting his body while covered in layers and layers of protective clothing doesn’t help the fact that he’s starting to have more trouble breathing as he walks the hallways at a fast pace. When he begins to cough, he does what he promised himself he wouldn’t do and drives out post-shift to the desert cabin of Max Evans.

 Part of him is too desperately tired to knock, but when he arrives on the property with the cop car idle and the house dark and at peace for the night, his fury greets him with the embrace of a long-lost friend. Knuckles pound at the wood and Max answers the door with surprise and a general look of defense, and Kyle tries not to immediately punch him in the face at the fact he looks like he had woken up from a comfortable sleep.

 “Heal me.” Kyle manages to spit out.

 “I—what’s wrong?”

 “Beginning stages of respiratory distress, fever, nausea—what do you fucking think?”

 “Kyle—,” Max starts to say, the hesitation deepening, and that does it.

 “No. I have not asked you for anything in all of this, Evans. Anything!” He shouts, voice hoarse. “Not when people got sick, not when they started dying, not even when we started having to let people die on purpose. And you know what? I wasn’t going to even come and ask you now, but I can’t get sick when I’m the one here fucking saving lives out of the two of us and you’re just cruising the streets handing out goddamn traffic tickets.”

 Max’s face isn’t stony like it usually is when Kyle’s yelling at him; this time it’s crushed and guilty but not nearly enough. “What kind of hours you work this week, Evans? A nice 8 to 4? Did you get facetime with Isobel or your mom, maybe binge through a few books and movies after you’re home? Did you sit down and eat a nice dinner and or go over to drink a few beers with Guerin since you can’t get sick? Even get a nice eight hours of sleep in your own bed in your nice quiet home?”

 No response.

 “I am not asking to sequence your DNA like Liz. All I am asking is for you to let me heal people since you don’t want to.”

 A night breeze is all that makes noise for a moment as Kyle catches his breath and glares at Max, who stands quietly but is staring down at his boots before he finally looks up and nods. Max steps forward then, and Kyle sees that his eyes are actually filled with tears. Temper deflating, but still not subsiding entirely, given that not much else is able to be done; Kyle lets Max place a hand on his shoulder and feels the extremely weird feeling spread throughout his body. Something more electric than anything else, which God knew made a lot more sense concerning his powers and how the body operated with electrical nerve impulses, but that is a train of thought better left for another day. He wants to just walk away, and he almost does, but he still mutters a “thank you” before he does so.

When his nurse dies a few days later and he watches as the staff double bag her body to take to the morgue, he escapes to his office and crashes on his couch with sobs. There’s no one here to support him. He can’t go to his mother’s home and collapse into one of her comforting embraces without risking infecting her. He can’t get wasted at the Wild Pony with Maria when it’s closed. He can’t visit Rosa or Arturo at the Crashdown. Keeping his friends and family safe meant keeping them away from him. Keeping them safe meant he needed to stop pushing his head into his hands to try and control the sound of his crying and get back to work at saving the lives around them.

He gets put on leave by the hospital administrator when he’s almost arrested for decking Wyatt Long in the hospital parking lot as the idiot stood outside with a sign rallying Regiment members to make sure the hospital was told it was killing people on purpose for the election. If Jenna hadn’t been the officer on duty he would have been cuffed and put on record, jeopardizing his license, but there was some self-preserving part of him that desperately wished for his practice to be over anyway. He’s not even sure how Jenna handles it, honestly, all he remembers is her dropping him off at his house from her patrol car like she had been nothing but an uber. No matter how angry and adamant he gets, his boss refuses to bend, saying it’s for his own good given the connections the Long’s have in the town and how Kyle has worked almost 74 of the past 76 days.

Alex is the first to visit him, unannounced. When the doorbell rings Kyle is mindlessly pretending to watch some tv show in his living room that’ll distract him from his consuming thoughts about patients, so he doesn’t get up to answer. He checks his silent phone to see if he was forewarned of a visitor but sees nothing. Unsure if it’s his boss or a patient’s family, he forces himself up onto his sore feet and opens the door after grabbing a regular mask off the coffee table. Black face mask on and standing further out from the door on the porch is Alex, the usual gruff hello turned into something soft. “Hey.”

Kyle heaves a sigh. He had wondered when the pity visits would begin. “Hey. You really shouldn’t be around me, you know.”

“I’m clearly a minimum of eight feet away in an open space while masked.” Alex smarts back. “Either way, I’m worried about you.”

Scoffing, he shakes his head. “Don’t fucking worry about me. Worry about getting sick, because if I have to see another person I care about die, I--,”

“Kyle.” the other says too kindly, the sort of pacifying voice Alex reserved for only the most dire situations. “I have no idea what you’re dealing with in specifics, but my experiences do overlap with yours in some places.”

“And?”

Maybe it came out a little too rude, because Alex raises a brow, but then sighs instead. “And I’m just checking in to make sure you know people care about you.”

“Thanks, Manes.” Kyle huffs in return, managing not to roll his eyes because focusing on being blunt and abrasive was so much easier.

“Just be careful.” Alex interjects before Kyle could close the door and turn back to his show. “Dealing with the trauma of what you’re dealing with gets dark very quickly.”

“Because I punched Wyatt Long?” he spits back sarcastically.

“No, because the suicide rates for healthcare professionals are drastically increasing along with the rates of PTSD diagnoses.” Alex says flatly, ever one to be unfazed by sarcasm. “And I’ve lost more active duty members to suicide than I have combat.”

Kyle pauses, caught. Maybe Alex had known he would be, because there isn’t some way he can give a smile and reassuring wave with him like he could his mother or Liz. While Kyle hadn’t actively thought of a plan, he couldn’t pretend he had noticed signs of depression the second he was alone in his house. 

“The quiet is the worst part, right?” Alex says, all but reading his mind. “Not always because of the flashbacks, although those are horrible, but because if things are quiet then--,”

“--people are dying.” Kyle finishes, his voice raspier by the end of the three words. “Yeah, well, mine still are.”

“They’re going to.” Is what felt like a cold response, but somehow gave Kyle the understanding he’s been craving. “They’re going to die and because of your profession you’re going to be able to save some of them. Which will make you think you’re responsible to save all of them and because you’re a good person you’re going to feel guilty in ways that no one will understand for being human and failing to.”

“Failing is all I do lately.” Kyle replies. “Usually the wins feel higher than the losses as a doctor, but with this-- and no one outside of it cares. They go outside and yell about how this is about a fucking election and when it’s not the patients, it’s the hospital pretending they don’t have enough money to buy us proper protection. Or the government saying this will all go away and that it’s just a light cold.”

Alex gives a small nod. “I know. I also know telling you the same advice that you’d give another doctor of trying not to burn out and instead taking a small rest is useless. So I’m just going to drop off these dvd’s and make you report back to me the difference when you’re done.”

Star Trek and Star Wars. Kyle finds a smile tug on his lips. Alex leaves with one on his as well.

When he gives a response to Alex a few days later on how Star Wars is better not more than a few minutes later Deluca is texting him with recommendations on joining her Buffy the Vampire Slayer rewatch. There’s something sweet about the fact that people have been clearly talking about him, even if definitely borderline creepy with how nosy his circle of friends can be, but he sighs and lets Maria add him to the group chat she has with Rosa and Liz where they review each episode after the fact and even chimes in every now and then. Isobel gets added not long after due to an Instagram story Maria shares and then the group has moved onto Friends after everyone shoots down Liz for suggesting Grey’s Anatomy on behalf of Kyle. Alex is also in there, even if it’s rare he chimes in with an opinion, but once they start Friends his commentary about how much he hates Ross that gets the entire group riled up does tend to make him laugh. Even Kyle agrees with Forest-- whose opinion had been shared by Alex-- that Chandler had all too many queer-coded scenes with Joey.

His mother facetimes him daily, which given how they both don’t exactly go out much starts to become monotonous, until she begins to give in and talk about memories she has of their father. Tidbits she never would have shared with him about their adult life when he was a child or teenager. He in turn facetimes Rosa and shares some of the memories of their father as well, which as much as she tries to pretend she doesn’t want for Arturo’s sake she clearly does with the million questions she asks every single time and the small smile she gives him at the end of their calls.

Liz updates him on her work which is a nice reprieve from everyone’s normalcy and lack of medical jargon sometimes, especially when she gives him inside info on covid vaccine studies not yet published to the general public yet. Everything in him wants this more than anything else in the world right now and he texts her almost every day asking if she’s heard more news even when he knows things take time. She’s a good sport about everything, even when he shares in a very angry rant about Max Evans and how they could have helped so many more people so much more quickly with his DNA-- however selfish that might have been.

When he goes back to work, he feels refreshed, even when it makes things hit like a freight train once more. Lost in a sea of inadequacy, his feelings extend past the pandemic. Even when things return to a level of normalcy and the cases subside he gets alien medical drama thrown in his face once more, and he starts to wonder if he’ll ever recover. If he was wrong to choose this calling. If the fact he can’t help Max or Maria is a sign from above or his father that it’s time to make some career move or change location like his mother and Liz. But, like he tells Michael Guerin. He can’t think he can face his future children and say he walked away from this. Or let people die by quitting, just like Rosa warns. And so he stays and tries to heal both other people and himself.

#so yeah this was the lighter version #i had to stop before things got to dark for my own mind #also genuinely feel like the mentions he gives to rosa about feeling lost #should stem from this if the writers aren't cowards #kyle valenti #rnm fic #kyle valenti fic #roswell new mexico #tw covid #tw depression #my fic #my post

[skinsharpenedteeth]

Coming Up Easy - The First Dance

You can also check this out on AO3!!

Michael reclined in bed against the pillows he’d stacked against the wall so he could read his phone, drink a beer, and be semi-comfortable. It’d been a long, long day and he was having trouble winding down from it. He’d put on one of Isobel’s Spotify playlists on random while he dicked around on his phone. He knew what he wanted to do. He’d been scrolling through his photo’s gallery for ten minutes staring at the few pictures he had of them together. He wished he had more. He was pointedly trying to stay out of the private file he had that definitely showed more of them together because he’d been visiting that file way too often since Alex had moved.

Finishing his beer, Michael chucked the empty bottle into the trash and opened a new one. Feeling daring, he shot Alex a text.

Me 10:02 p.m. >> You up?

Alex 10:03 p.m. >> I am. In fact, I’m cooking.

Me 10:05 p.m. >> I call bullshit. You hate cooking.

<<Alex is requesting a video chat session: Accept?>>

Biting his lip, Michael had a second to wonder how he was going to look before saying ‘Fuck it’ and pushing his thumb against the accept key. Alex’s face filled his phone screen and Michael would be lying to say his heart didn’t flutter a little at the sight of his slightly red, smiling face.

“Oh my God, I missed your face,” Alex said without preamble. Michael found himself smiling despite himself.

“Yeah? Need me to send you pictures daily?” Michael teased.

“No, I don’t want to get spoiled. This is a treat for me. I’ve been looking at strangers for weeks now,” Alex replied. Michael was trying not to stare because Alex looked so good and it just made Michael want to go over to his place and tackle him against the refrigerator. He couldn’t though. That sort of thing would take planning and plane tickets and passports and so much more work than it did a month ago. Sighing to himself, Michael tried to keep the conversation flowing.

“Any cute ones?” Michael asked, kicking himself immediately. Alex’s eyebrows drew together for a moment before he wiped the expression away.

“Uh, not yet. I’ll probably have to get on a dating app or something to really meet people,” Alex replied awkwardly, smile turning brittle as he spoke. Faintly, Michael could hear music in the background of Alex’s kitchen.

“So what are you listening to while you cook? And what are you cooking? You burned a peanut butter and jelly sandwich once!” Michael exclaimed, eyes flitting around the screen trying to see behind Alex’s head. Alex rolled his eyes, but his smile was more genuine.

“I’m listening to that new Miley Cyrus song “Can't Stop”. Have you heard it?” Alex asked, moving closer to his Bluetooth speaker and turning up the volume so Michael could listen in.

“No, I haven’t. I’ll have to listen to it later, sounds good,” Michael commented. Alex was closing his eyes and the phone was swaying like he was dancing to the music.

“Oh shit, I’m going to put you down on the counter. I gotta stir,” Alex exclaimed a moment later and suddenly Michael could see much more of Alex’s apartment kitchen and of Alex himself. He was wearing his old MCR t-shirt they’d spent one night turning into a tank top and sweatpants. The large, gaping armholes showed off the hint of muscle on his back and chest and made Michael’s mouth water and his entire body ache with want to touch him. He watched Alex grab a spatula and start stirring it around a frying pan, hips still moving with the beat of the song as he concentrated. Michael had to clear his voice as his mouth went suddenly dry at the visual of those hips in action. Alex had always been good with rhythm, but being best friends with Liz had also given him a swivel to his dancing style that was frankly indecent.

“So, uh, what are you cooking?” Michael asked again, trying not to get too mesmerized by Alex dancing and mouthing the words to the song into the end of the spatula when he wasn’t stirring.

“Stirfry. Something so basic even I can’t fuck it up, hopefully,” Alex joked. He picked the phone up so he could turn the camera for Michael to look in the pan. Looked like soggy frozen veggies mixed with overcooked chicken in something that might’ve been brown sauce.

“Looks great,” Michael lied as Alex put the phone back down. Alex looked at him for a moment and started laughing.

“Okay, it looks like dog vomit, but it’ll be edible. Someone never taught me how to cook, despite being excellent at it,” Alex joked, giving Michael a dirty look through the phone. Fuck, Michael wanted to kiss that look off his face.

“I was trying to make my friendship indispensable to you. Apparently, I failed since you moved to another country and left me to languish in the desert alone and lonely,” Michael said dramatically. Alex barked out another laugh before turning back to the pan and shaking his head down at it. He moved it off the heating element and flipped the dial. Michael watched him as he bent over and settled on his elbows in front of the phone. He looked… well, Michael was glad his own camera was facing front.

“You’re indispensable to me no matter what, even without the cooking lessons. Just you wait, you’ll come up here for a visit and soon I’ll have a roommate,” Alex joked.

“We’ll see about that,” Michael retorted as another song came on. The song immediately sent him back to a small, dusty shed that smelled like sweat, metal, wood, and damp cotton. He could feel Alex’s warm hands on his hips nudging him to shift with the beat to the left and right while they both stared at his bare feet.

“Is this….?” Michael started but stopped as he became sure that it was. Alex had been looking over his shoulder towards the speaker and when Michael spoke up, he turned back to the phone. His cheeks were slightly pink and he looked sheepish.

“Yeah, this is Hellogoodbye. Remembering the same thing I am?” Alex asked, looking at Michael nervously through the phone. Michael let his head fall back against the wall behind him and he took a long pull from his beer before answering.

“Yeah, I think so. You teaching me to dance for prom?” Michael asked, not looking at the phone but hearing Alex clear his voice.

“Yeah, that,” he answered, voice subdued. They fell into silence and Michael had no doubt they were both trapped in a shared memory.

“I don’t even want to go to prom. I’ve managed to miss every other dance in high school, I don’t see why Isobel is so insistent I go to this one!” Michael raged, walking the length of the Mane’s shed back and forth while Alex watched from the futon. They were both shirtless and slightly sweaty, only partially dressed after their makeout and hand job session. Alex was leaned over with his elbows on his knees watching Michael warily.

“It’s just a dance, Michael. Go if it’ll make her happy. I’m going, you can come hang out with me,” Alex said, tone slightly exasperated. He’d been listening to Michael bitch about Isobel’s insistence for him to go to prom for a week already and it was beginning to grate on his nerves. Michael stopped and looked at him, arms raised and expression clearing asking ‘Are you actually agreeing with her?!’. Alex just kept looking at him blankly. ‘Yes,’ his expression replied. ‘I’m agreeing with her.’ With a defeated sigh, Michael let his arms drop suddenly and slap against his sides.

“I don’t even know how to dance,” he mumbled, almost too low for Alex to hear him. Alex gave him a complicated look, somewhere between amusement and pity.

“That’s easy enough to fix. I can teach you that much,” Alex replied, standing up.

“What? No, I don’t want to know! It’s just going to be weird. I’m not going to have anything to do except stand around and drink punch. It’s going to be expensive and lame,” Michael whined, even as he watched Alex go over to his iPod and put it into the stereo he’d brought out to the shed. He ignored Michael’s protests and found a song with an easily recognizable beat. It started up, sounding poppy and electronic, and Michael rolled his eyes. Alex caught him at it.

“Hey, this is going to be easy. Quit being such an ass about it,” Alex griped, coming to stand in front of Michael. He placed his hands on Michael’s hips and looked him straight in the eyes. “Okay. Just follow my movements. Right now we’re just finding the beat.”

Michael swallowed and nodded, throat suddenly dry at the feeling of Alex being close to him and semi-nude and touching him. It seemed Alex put him on a hair-trigger to want sex. With a gentle push and pull, Alex moved Michael and himself back and forth until they were swaying with the beat.

“Okay, this is literally the most basic form of slow dancing. It’s just swaying from side to side. Put your hands on my shoulders and just keep following me,” Alex instructed. Michael raised his arms and lazily draped his arms over Alex’s shoulders like he’d seen every girl do in every teen movie ever. He’d rolled his eyes again as he did it and Alex pinched his side for his sass. “I’m doing you a favor, dipshit. Be nice.”

“Ow! Fine, fine. I’ll be nice. Now what?” Michael asked as they continued to sway. It felt so weird to be standing there in Alex’s shed just shifting his weight back and forth. Without warning, Alex began to pull Michael’s body closer to him while he moved back too. Michael stumbled a little, his foot stepping on the one Alex had kept still.

“Okay, sorry, I didn’t explain. That’s my bad,” Alex apologized once they’d untangled themselves. He grabbed Michael’s hips again and began the original swaying. Once they’d gotten back in rhythm with the song, Alex tried to explain. “So we’re going to basically be moving in a box. Whoever’s leading, so me this time, is always outlining the box with their movements while whoever’s following, you, is tracing the inside of the box.”

Michael gave him a confused look. Making a discontent noise, Alex stepped close until his stomach and hips were resting against Michael’s. Michael gave him a wide-eyed look, wondering if Alex had decided to save dancing for later and more fucking for now…

“Close your eyes,” Alex ordered. Michael closed them obediently, waiting for the gentle pressure of Alex’s lips against his. Instead, Alex continued talking. “Now follow my lead.”

Michael felt the pull of Alex’s body to the right and he instinctually followed. Then Alex moved him backward. It threw Michael off for a second, but then he felt the gentle pressure of Alex’s left leg pressing against his right and he moved that leg back. Then they glided to the left and then Alex was pulling Michael forward. This time he felt which of Alex’s legs was staying still and which was moving away and followed suit. They did this two more times before he felt Alex’s breath by his ear.

“This is a box step. You’re dancing,” he whispered. Despite the heat of the spring day which baked against the poorly insulated shed walls, Michael felt goosebumps break out along his shoulders and chest at the feeling of Alex’s breath against his ear. Opening his eyes, he pulled back to look at Alex’s face and immediately stepped wrong and made them stumble.

“Damnit!” Michael yelled, dropping his arms.

“No, Michael. It’s fine. It just takes practice,” Alex consoled.

“I’m just not made for dancing,” Michael grouched, turning away and taking a few steps to put space between them. The song changed to some other top 100 pop slow jam, and after a minute he felt Alex hook his chin over one of his shoulders and press his chest to Michael’s back. His arms wrapped around Michael’s crossed ones and he immediately started swaying them again.

“You are. Dancing isn’t so different from fucking. It’s about tempo and rhythm and matching or counterpointing movements. You’re great at fucking, you could be good at dancing,” Alex said quietly. He started kissing Michael’s neck and shoulder intently and heat started to pool in Michael’s gut at the feeling of Alex pressing against him and moving slowly. “Maybe you can dance with me at prom and I’ll make sure you don’t make a fool of yourself?”

“You want to dance with me at prom? Isn’t that a bit… public?” Michael asked. He didn’t really mind it being public, but he didn’t want Alex to say something and not realize the consequences.

“We’ll be out of here in a couple months anyway. Fuck ‘em if they can’t hang, right?” Alex said, voice tight behind his teasing tone.

“Yeah, sure. I’ll dance with you at prom then,” Michael replied easily. He turned his head and Alex kissed the corner of his mouth.

“You’re a good friend. I wouldn’t have anyone to dance with either without you,” Alex said. Michael’s heart ached against his ribs, but he nodded anyway.

“We didn’t get to dance at prom,” Alex said simply when the silence stretched.

“No, you had to go get into a fight with Valenti before I could get in from pictures with Iz and Max,” Michael agreed.

“Wish we had,” Alex replied, sounding wistful.

“Yeah, me too,” Michael agreed. The silence was sad now and he hated it. Michael tried to think of something to say. Clearing his throat, he went with the first thing that came to his mind. “So you adding rice to that stirfry or something?”

“Uh, I was going to just get some like minute rice and dump it on top when I reheated this,” Alex explained. Michael grimaced and Alex laughed.

“Jerk,” Alex said, but a smile was back on his face.

“Just let me know if you end up in the hospital with food poisoning. I’ll send you flowers,” Michael replied with a grin.

“Ugh, shut UP! It’s fine!” Alex exclaimed, grabbing a fork from a drawer and scooping up some onto it. “See?!”

He put it in his mouth and Michael waited. He saw him grimace and chew slowly.

“So good, right?” Michael teased.

“It’s fine,” Alex said after swallowing. Michael waited, Alex and he looked at each other through the screen, before Alex grimaced and then stood up abruptly. “UGH, FINE! It’s gross!”

Michael chuckled.

“Poor baby,” Michael cooed. Alex flipped him off but laughed along with him.

“Yeah, poor me. Well, shit. Now I have to clean all this up and I have nothing to show for it,” Alex groused. Michael watched him rub his hands over his face in frustration and stare at the pan of ruined food.

“Going to try again?” Michael asked. Alex looked over at him and shook his head.

“No. I gotta get to bed. It’s already late. This was just kind of a spur-of-the-moment decision anyway,” Alex replied morosely.

“Hey, you’ll get it next time. Just call me and I’ll walk you through it on video,” Michael offered. Alex sighed and nodded.

“Probably for the best,” he agreed. “Well, I better get to bed. It was nice seeing your face.”

“It was good seeing yours. Miss you,” Michael said before he could chicken out.

“Miss you too. Night,” Alex said with a smile.

“Night,” Michael replied before the call ended. He took a deep sigh and set his phone down on his chest before taking a sip of his lukewarm beer.

Damn, he missed that fucker.

#coming up easy #CUE update #wip wednesday #malex wip #malex

[reddieorrnot]

short soulmate au where richie is a little bitch :)

“So... I finally heard him last night.”

Eddie snapped his head up from his book and glanced over to Beverly. The redhead was perched on her bed, looking right back at him. It took him a second to realize what she meant, his eyes widening when he finally connected the dots. 

“Your soulmate?” He exclaimed, setting down the piece of fiction and crawling up to her bed to sit beside her body. She giggled at his excitement and gave him a small nod, her hair moving along with her head. “Well? How’d you do it?”

Everyone knew that when the time came, you could hear what your soulmate was hearing. It all came at its own moment though, if it was too early in one’s life or one of the soulmates weren’t ready yet, you wouldn’t be able to hear anything. But if it was the right time, communication could be done by talking out loud. The idea always excited Eddie, and it made him a tiny bit nervous at the same time. He, like most people, was a little anxious that their soulmate wouldn’t like them. Beverly always told him that was impossible because it would be his literal soulmate. He was also scared he would just never hear anything, that he just didn’t have a soulmate. 

Late at night every day, when he was positive his mother had fallen asleep, Eddie would lie in his bed looking up at the ceiling. He would close his eyes, and put all his focus on his hearing, listening to everything around him. He would try to find some sort of noise that sounded like it couldn’t be coming from his room, like some sort of cough or sneeze or anything. He would have taken anything at that point. And when he didn’t hear anything, Eddie would gently whisper into the night a small greeting, just in case his soulmate was too shy to speak first. He would do that daily and had done it for a while. But there was a consistent rate of failure. 

His personal disappointment, fortunately, did not cloud his happiness for Beverly, though. 

“Well, I just knew somehow when I started hearing him. Like even if there had been a highway next to me, which there wasn’t because I was just in my room, I would have heard even the quietest pin drop from his side.”

Eddie listened to her, lips parted in a tiny gasp, hanging onto her every word. Maybe it was because her words were so enchanting, or because she was so beautiful, but Eddie couldn’t tear his attention away no matter what. Beverly and he had been friends since sixth grade, now going onto 5 years as they started Junior year. Eddie would never understand why such a cool girl would ever want to be his friend. She wore the coolest clothes, listened to the coolest music. And Beverly even carried around gum and a small perfume for after she smoked, just for Eddie’s behalf. It was incredibly kind, and made Eddie feel like his opinion mattered. Beverly was one of the best things to ever happen to him. 

If I wasn’t gay, Eddie thought, I would wish for you to be my soulmate. 

“He was writing a poem, something about the seasons, and I guess I must have heard him proofreading it out loud. I was so freaked out, Eddie, you don’t understand,” By this point, Beverly had sat up and now was facing Eddie, clutching his hands on hers. “And then, I finally spoke. I was like, ‘Hello?’ and he immediately stopped talking. Probably from like... shock or something.”

“Then what?” 

“Then he replied, and he couldn’t believe he could hear me! He’s got the sweetest voice, I swear. We stayed up so late talking, just about ourselves and our lives. He actually doesn’t live too far...” Beverly’s gaze drifted from Eddie to out her window, it reminded Eddie of some cinematic moment, the way the light hit her eyes that you could see them twinkling. 

“Bev, what’s his name?”

She giggled again, “Oh gosh, I forgot to tell you that part, didn’t I? His name is Ben, Ben Hanscom.”

Eddie smiled and brought Beverly in for a hug, “I’m so happy for you.”

“I'm just not quite sure if he can always hear me, or if he just tries to? It’s all very peculiar.”

“You’ll figure it out, you always do.”

She pulled away from the hug and took Eddie’s hand within hers once more. “You’ll hear yours soon, Eddie. I know you will.”

“I hope.” 

- Three Months Later -

It was while he was sitting on his bed one afternoon, doodling on his AP Chemistry homework. Eddie’s day had been long, and excruciatingly boring. Mike, Beverly’s friend, had invited Eddie to go along with the two out to the town. Eddie had politely declined, even though it sounded fun, he’d much rather prefer simply relaxing at home. And that’s what he was doing, and he was, in fact, enjoying it very much.

Suddenly, Eddie heard the sound of a pencil dropping. The impacted surface sounded like wood, which didn’t make sense because Eddie’s room was carpeted, but he still leaned over the bed to check if one of his pens had rolled off. Seeing no indication of such, Eddie furrowed his eyebrows, leaning back into his old position. 

A few minutes later, Eddie heard the sound of something falling on the ground once again. This time it did not mirror the previous sound, differing from the phantom pencil that must have dropped. It was more hushed, something lighter. Eddie immediately jumped from his bed and looked all over his floor, searching for what had grabbed his attention. That’s when he heard it. 

A soft whisper filled Eddie’s ears, “Oh, you motherfuck, just land in the can.”

Eddie nearly jumped, desperately looking around his room for some intruder. Perhaps he could have chalked it up hearing his mother pass by his thin room walls, but the voice was too different from hers, even in its quiet state. That revelation prompted Eddie to realize what was occurring. His soulmate. If he hadn’t been nervous beforehand, when he believed someone was in his room, he sure as hell was nervous now. He moved to the edge of his bed in a rather slow fashion, leg bouncing as he sat down. As quick as he could, Eddie then mustered up enough courage to speak into the quiet environment around him. 

“Hello?” 

There was no way Eddie could deny he heard a sharp inhale be taken right after he said that simple word. Something told him that his soulmate was most probably as nervous as he was now. Silence returned and Eddie was about to start convincing himself he was going crazy when a voice filled his ears once more. 

“Holy shit, I mean, hey?”

They were definitely a guy, Eddie thought. It sounded like someone his age, but Eddie had a hard time painting a mental image of him in his head. 

“Hi... I’m sorry, I’m not quite sure what to say...” Eddie struggled to come up with a coherent thought, phrases sprinting into his mind and leaving just as rapidly. In all honesty, he wouldn’t be surprised if the only reason he had spoken again was to hear his newly found soulmate’s voice. 

“I, uh, I actually know exactly what to say to you...” The sentence made Eddie’s breath get stuck in his throat, as he located the shy tone coming from the other boy. The shyness didn’t do any diminishing toward his deeper voice though, it wasn’t Mike deep but definitely not Eddie’s higher voice. He felt a little self-conscious for a second about how possibly sounded but quickly shook the thought away. 

“You know exactly what to say to me?” Eddie leaned back into his bed, hugging himself, trying to knot away from the nerves in his stomach. What could his soulmate have to say? Had he planned it out for the first time he would hear Eddie? Was Eddie really that important to someone, where they had prepared for their meeting? All these questions made Eddie’s brain buzz, as he couldn’t focus on anything. 

“Yeah... I’ve been waiting to hear you,” Eddie’s thoughts were confirmed.

“Really? Tell me what you have to say.”

“Okay, just listen, though, alright?” 

The verb use made Eddie chuckle, “As if I wasn’t already doing that?”

“Okay, whatever,” The other boy was laughing too, “Just... listen...”

Eddie nodded, then remembered no one could see him, so he mumbled a small, “I understand.”

There was quiet for a second, then the small noise of gentle tapping. He couldn’t pinpoint what could be making the noise, perhaps Richie had written what he had to say on some note. It was all Eddie could assume, as he was a little lost. He continued to do as said, keeping quiet and simply focusing on his sense of hearing. 

Then some familiar music began to play, it had some beat filled intro, and once again, Eddie couldn’t pinpoint what song was. It had a piece of upbeat music and it was so familiar. 

Then it hit him.

“Are you fucking-”

“We're no strangers to love You know the rules and so do I,” 

“I cannot fucking believe-” 

“A full commitment's what I'm thinking of You wouldn't get this from any other guy,”

“Do you know how goddamn annoying-” 

“I just wanna tell you how I'm feeling Gotta make you understand,” 

“Holy christ, please turn it off before it gets to the-”

“Never gonna give you up Never gonna let you down Never gonna run around and desert you,“ 

It was a few lyrics afterward where the boy ended up pausing the song, to which Eddie believed he only did because his so-called soulmate started laughing so hard both of them could barely either Rick Astley at that point.

“I wish there was a way I could hang up on you after that,” Eddie said with an exhausted sigh. This only made the other boy laugh again. 

“Well aren’t you fun, I’m Richie,” The name gave Eddie butterflies, and hearing that voice made him melt right back into the previous puddle.

“Richie, you are incredibly annoying.”

“No, I’m not annoying, I just told you I’m Richie!” When Eddie groaned in response, Richie continued, “Okay, now tell me your name.”

“Why should I?”

“Because we’re soulmates, duh.”

It was obviously a good reason, but Eddie still rolled his eyes up at the ceiling. 

“My name is Eddie.”

“That’s absolutely adorable. Eddie... Eds.” 

“Don’t you dare call me that!” 

“Too late, you cutie.”

Even though he had instantly refuted it, Eddie knew that deep inside he actually hadn’t hated that nickname as much as he had let on. And he also knew he definitely didn’t find Richie all that annoying.

But hey, he wasn’t about to just say that, was he? 

#reddie #i got bored #this is sobad #oh well! #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #richie x eddie #it #reddie fic #enjoyyyy #soulmate au

[fizzyxcustard]

Fear and Loathing (3)

Chapter 1  Chapter 2

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Fandom: seaQuest 2032

Summary: (Part 2 of The Right Thing - this will be a chaptered fic) Captain Hudson knows that you and Lucas are more than just friends, and after changing your shift rotations to make sure you’re not on duty together, you take things into your own hands and request a transfer from seaQuest. Before your transfer can be processed, officers and crew begin showing signs of extreme anxiety, anger and paranoia. Some are worse affected than others, you being one of them. Can you fight for not only your relationship with Lucas but your state of mind?

Pairings: Ensign Lucas Wolenczak x FemLieutenant!Reader, Commander Jonathan Ford x Lieutenant Lonnie Henderson (only slight)

Warnings: Language, violence, insecurity, angst, paranoia, anxiety, mental instability, very mild sexual references/smut mention, age difference/gap.

Comments: If you wish to be added to my seaQuest tag list, which will be separate from all my other tags, let me know, and I will only tag you in these if you specifically request to be tagged. This is practically a dead fandom now, but I would still like to share my writings with you. If you would like to ask any questions, then by all means just ask! People are probably wondering why I’m still continuing this fic when it gets so little feedback, but it’s purely because I enjoy writing it. It’d a pleasure to be reminiscing in old times. 

You were released from the Med Bay that following evening and decided to head straight to the mess hall for a late dinner. After your panic attack that morning, you had found your body returning to normal. The doctor was happy that your symptoms had subsided but had still directed you to go back for daily check ups at 09:00 hours each morning. The blood sample he had taken was still with the UEO’s Science and Health Division, awaiting thorough analysis.

The mess hall was deserted by now, but the cook was kind enough to re-heat a meal for you before he finished for the night. Peace and quiet had finally settled in your chest as you ate slowly, savouring the array of flavours. You took a deep breath, smiled to yourself and glanced around the room. All you could hear was the gentle hum of seaQuest’s turbines. It was always enough to calm you.

Tony Piccolo entered a short while later, just as you were finishing your last couple of mouthfuls.

“Hi, Tony,” you said cheerfully around a mouthful of assorted vegetables.

“How are you feeling?”

“Good, thank you. Better,” you replied, watching him sit opposite you. “I’ve got to try and rest for the next couple of days, doctor’s orders.”

You couldn’t help but notice that Tony seemed uncomfortable, fidgeting with something in his lap. His brown eyes seemed to have a hard time focusing on you.

“Tony? What’s the matter?”

“I…know you’ve been sick…and it’s happened around Lucas, but he wanted me to give you this.” Tony slowly offered you an unsealed envelope with your name on the front. You took it from Tony with apprehension.

“I’ll, umm, read it. Thanks, Tony.” You took a deep breath and opened out the folded paper, seeing Lucas’ familiar penned scrawl.

I thought I’d do this the old-fashioned way for once. I miss you so much, but I know that something has got to give. These last two months have been the best of my life. Thank you. But I’m terrified of letting them go. I know I’ve behaved wrong. I just couldn’t bear the thought of losing you. And I have to. It’ll hurt like hell seeing you every day and knowing we can’t be together. Please don’t leave. I need you in my life, even if only as a friend. No matter what happens, I will always have your back, and most importantly, will always love you. – Lucas.

Tears slipped down your cheeks as you held the letter. The truth, bottom line, simply, you couldn’t be without him in your life either. “I miss him,” you whispered and began to sob.

“You need to go to him,” Tony said softly.

“We could lose our careers!” you exclaimed.

“Does your career mean more than being with the guy you love?”

Lucas was sat on his bunk, staring absently out into the water of the adjoining tank wall. He pictured you, beautiful and graceful, swimming with Darwin, holding on to the dolphin’s fin, gliding through the water. His chest compressed and ached at the mere thought of it.

“Hey, Luke,” Tony’s voice came.

Lucas never even bothered to turn and look, his gaze still locked on the water. He then heard a sweet voice say his name, the voice of the one who caused this pain. Was he imagining it? Then the voice came again, paired with that familiar scent. He turned in confusion to see you standing beside Tony’s bunk, looking up at him with a smile.

Tony backed out of the room, feeling like a third wheel, but accomplished.

Lucas said your name and jumped down from the bunk. You both rushed together, stopping for a brief second to smile, your faces reflecting each other. Then you kissed, both of you groaning upon the impact. Lucas’ hand cupped your face and his other arm curled around your waist, bringing you in flush against him. His want of you was rising and he pulled away sharp. “I need to control myself when I’m with you,” he said, his blue eyes ablaze with lust and passion for you.

Both of you had only been physical a handful of times in your two-month long relationship, and this was out of fear of being caught. Lucas had grown to know his limits when with you, learning so much about what pleased both of you.

You fondly remembered one instance when you had made love in the Moon Pool whilst Darwin was out hunting fish. How could you possibly push all of this away? How long could you maintain the coldness of your façade towards him? The mask of a dedicated officer was slipping. True, you were dedicated to your duty, but your heart and yearning for Lucas was fast trumping that.

Lucas stayed with you that night in your quarters. To hell with the consequences, you had thought. And you made love for the first time in two weeks. The pace was slow, deep and passionate. As Lucas came, he groaned against your neck and told you he loved you.

“And I love you,” you whispered, kissing him softly.

You both remained together, basking in the afterglow of your intimacy. You lay facing each other beneath the warm blanket on your bed.

“Would you really give up your career for this if you had to?” you asked.

Lucas merely smiled and looked down. “I thought my answer to that would have been obvious.”

“I never imagined I’d ever be that to someone,” you said. “Least of all, someone like you.”

“Why do you say that?”

“You’ve got so much to lose, so much more than my ex fiancée ever did, but you still fight for me. He never did.”

“You were engaged?” Lucas asked in shock.

“It’s a part of my life that I rarely talk about. I was engaged when I was seventeen, and then we split just before I enlisted. He apparently fell out of love with me, but the truth is, I don’t think either of us were ever in love. It was just a relationship of convenience. I’ve had to rely on myself since, and myself alone. Maybe I want someone to look after me now.”

“I’ve got you,” Lucas told you, taking you in his arms. “I’d give all of this up in a heartbeat, my rank and seaQuest, so I could stay with you.”

As Lucas slept behind you, his arm draped over you, you began to think on the true reasons you’d submitted the transfer request. And there was still one question that needed to be asked. Did you do it to save Lucas’ career, or your own? It struck as both an act of selfish need and a need of selfless compassion. Which drive had been the strongest of the two? Or was it possibly a subconscious act of self-sabotage? A test to see how far Lucas would go for you? One thing was certain, if it was indeed a test intended for Lucas, he had passed with flying colours. None of it would let you rest. The questions, shame and self-hatred manifested more intensely as time went by that night.

You slipped out of bed a while later, your mind still racing. You had to force your hand to your mouth to stop Lucas being woken by your gasps.

You’re selfish. You did this just to save your own career, not Lucas’. You don’t love him. You’re just enjoying the thrill of him running around after you like a lost puppy.

The voice was growing stronger, becoming almost audible, almost real inside your head.

Lucas will find out and despise you. You’re selfish. You only pretend to care, when in actual fact you do everything just for yourself. Lucas deserves a beautiful girl, not an ugly, disgusting bitch like you, paying lip service to everyone just to make yourself look good.

It was after midnight when you stood in the calm atmosphere of the Moon Pool. Tears dripped into the tank as you stroked Darwin’s head. The dolphin knew something was wrong, sensing your turmoil. He bumped your hand, his squeals untranslated while the vocorder remained in its charging dock. His all-knowing eyes watched you in curiosity and suddenly you dropped backwards.

Fuck! Even Darwin knows! I’m a fake.

Panic struck you, the terror hitting you so hard like a hurricane. Thoughts and emotions swirled around you, a tornado of self loathing and hatred. You could feel your skin crawling, the sensation of bugs moving, becoming stronger. Until it all became too much and you lost consciousness, that feeling of dizziness pulling you under.

Lucas woke to see you gone and instantly jumped out of your bed, feeling a churn in his stomach. Something was wrong. He didn’t know how he knew it, but he did. He dashed out into the hallway to see Darwin hovering in the tank, his head moving in the way it always did when he was trying to ask for someone to follow.

Lucas followed Darwin back to the Moon Pool and rushed in, finding your body stretched out across the floor.

“Oh, no,” he whispered, getting down onto the ground next to you.

***

You opened your eyes to find yourself in the Med Bay; everything was empty and silent. There was only the beeping of the machines next to your bed. Wires were connected to you, keeping track of your heartbeat. The room was too silent for your liking, until a shadow began to move towards you. It was formless, only the outline of a person. It was hovering a few inches above the floor and moved towards you. As much as you wanted to scream, nothing came out of your mouth, not even breath. Every part of your body froze rigid and gradually the form began to develop, turning into a horrid creature. It had black eyes, fangs and blood dripping from its mouth. Its claws were outstretched, reaching for you.

The monitor next to you began to beep faster and faster. Until the doctor raced back in and saw you sat bolt upright in bed, your eyes wide and focused upon an area in front of you at the foot of the bed.

“Lieutenant?” he called. “Lieutenant?!”

No answer. Nothing else around you mattered, only the space before you.

The beeping got faster, until you dropped down on the bed and began to have a seizure. Your body contorted and your eyes rolled back in your head.

“What’s happening?” Lucas shouted, racing back in with a cup of coffee. He stood next to you, his hand brushing through your hair whilst he was on the verge of tears. He said your name over and over. “It’s okay. I’m here. I won’t leave you.”

“Please, move away, Ensign,” the doctor ordered, holding a syringe.

Finally, your body stopped convulsing and you went calm. The sedative relaxed your muscles, and you drifted into a dreamless sleep, for a short while. Your breathing and heart rate returned to normal, the beeping of your bedside monitor becoming less and less.

“What happened to her?” Lucas asked, stricken by fear and concern.

“She had a seizure. It seemed to be panic induced. I want to give her a full scan, see if there’s any signs of underlying epilepsy,” the doctor said. He looked almost a panicked as Lucas. “I’ve never seen this before, that’s if all her symptoms are linked and the same thing.”

“What are you going to do for her?” Lucas asked.

“Keep her sedated for a few hours and then gradually let her wake. The panic she was suffering was intense fear. Before you came into the room, she was bolt upright, eyes wide. She was looking at something there.” The doctor pointed to the space where you had been staring earlier.

Captain Hudson soon came to the Med Bay, his eyes darting to Lucas as soon as he entered the room. The scene before Hudson made a lump rise in his throat; his youngest crew member, Ensign Wolenczak, sitting with his head bowed in silence, his hand in yours, resting on the edge of your bed.

“How is she, Ensign?” Hudson asked.

Lucas jolted, startled by the Captain’s entrance. “Umm, the doctor has had to sedate her. She begun having hallucinations and had a seizure.” Lucas’ voice broke and he swallowed hard, staring at your pale face. He could see your eyes moving beneath your eyelids and he prayed that whatever you were dreaming was bringing you peace, not terror.

Hudson pulled a chair across and sat opposite your bed, looking across at Lucas, who quickly brushed tears away from his face with back of his hand. “I’m ….s…sorry, Sir,” he stuttered.

“Lucas?” the Captain asked. “It’s okay. She’ll get through this. She’s a fighter, and whatever is causing this, we’ll find a way to cure it.”

“Umm, can I stay with her, Sir?” Lucas asked. “I know that we’re not…”

Hudson felt a sudden surge in shame for his actions and sighed. “Take as long as you need, Ensign.”

******

A few pointers and references:

UEO - United Earth Oceans Organisation; this is the organisation that owns seaQuest and governs underwater territories. 

Darwin/vocorder/Lucas backstory - Darwin the dolphin has his whistles and squeals translated by a machine called a vocorder which was designed and created by Lucas Wolenczak (pronounced Wo-len-check), who is a genius and graduated from Stamford University at 16 and was put on the seaQuest by his father to work as a computer analyst. 

Dagwood - he is a GELF, commonly called a ‘dagger’ in the series. They were genetically engineered people who were used a lot in serving humankind. 

#seaquest #seaquest dsv #seaquest 2032 #Lucas wolenczak #Lucas wolenczak x fem!reader #reader insert #captain Oliver hudson #lieutenant Jonathan ford #lieutenant James brody #lieutenant lonnie henderson #lieutenant Tim o'neill #Tony piccolo #Darwin the dolphin #dagwood #lieutenant jj fredricks

[books-and-glitter]

You literally asked for this directly

🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻

Should be 69 of those 😚

I hate you so much. You monster. I only expressed that I was surprised and you did this to me. I didn't ask for this.

Nonetheless....

🌻 - there is a bug in the kitchen and I am now too scared to go in there.

🌻 - Harper is trying to protect me but she is frankly useless.

🌻 - it's not like a big bug but it is definitely not small.

🌻 - I saw moth put a flower before each of these and thought it was neat. So I am now doing it.

🌻 - the person who sent me this sends a "Daily dose of disappointment" in a group chat we are in. Except it is not daily. It's whenever she has one.

🌻 - Kool Aid originated in Nebraska.

🌻 - The Omaha zoo has both the largest indoor desert as well as the largest indoor rainforest. The rainforest is my favorite.

🌻 - there is a rope bridge in there though that used to scare me a lot.

🌻 - nebraska also apparently originated the reuben sandwich which is gross.

🌻 - the Ogalala aquifer is the largest underground water supply in the US.

🌻 - the 911 system originated in Lincoln so that's kinda cool.

🌻 - the largest Woolly Mammath fossil is from Nebraska. If I remember correctly it's the one in Morrill Hall. His name is Archie and I will die for him.

🌻 - speaking of Archie, he was found on a farm by chickens. The farmer got confused at why the chickens were pecking at something, went to look, found big bones and called an archeologist.

🌻 - okay the bug is still a problem but I now have you to save me when it shows it's little fucking face again.

🌻 - the word Nebraska comes from the Oto word meaning flat water.

🌻 - hell yeah we going back to nebraska facts. Next is that the goldrod is the state flower. Flower is kinda pretty but the paper color by the same name is stupid.

🌻 - blue agate is the state gem and I vibe with that. Agate is cool as fuck.

🌻 - UNL's weight room is supposedly the largest in the country at 3/4ths of an acre (32.6k sqft)

🌻 - the Nebraska capitol had a 9.8 million budget, came in under budget, was paid for by the time it finished construction.

🌻 - I think the capitol looks weird but I am also desensitized to it but objectively it is really cool.

🌻 - cliff notes was founded in Nebraska.

🌻 - unfortunately when the UNL stadium is seated to capacity it technically becomes the 3rd most populated place in the state..... It's also really loud.... And I hate it.

🌻 - Arbor day comes from Nebraska. Which is cool because trees.

🌻 - the Scotts Bluff National Museum has a section of the oregon trail wagon roadbed that you can hike. The museum itself is also kinda cool so I suggest it if you ever are in the area.

🌻 - I wish to kill you, kathryn.

🌻 - more Nebraska facts I hear you cry! No problem! Nebraska has Car Henge! So if you ever want to get the vibe of Stonehenge except stupid and made of antique cars in a field in the middle of fucking nowhere you're in luck.

🌻 - Runzas are the official state food and I hate it. Runza makes decent chicken strips but Runzas are gross. Yes handover that cabbage meat bread 🤢

🌻 - Nebraska has a navy apparently. I know this but I cant tell you what the fuck they do since we are like the most landlocked state in the country.

🌻 - That one president, Gerald Ford, born in Nebraska. That's kinda neat. (I know nothing else about this man or his presidency except he is the only one not nationally elected.)

🌻 - Fred Astaire, Marlon Brando, and Johnny Carson (I think, or he just went to UNL, the media arts building is named after him) are all from Nebraska.

🌻 - getting sick of nebraska facts? Suffer. Nebraska has more miles of river than any other state, which is weird because we were called the great American desert.

🌻 - apparently the Nebraska state insect is the honeybee!!! 🐝

🌻 - the Niobrara river is apparently really good for canoeing and has like 90 waterfalls.

🌻 - I am running low on nebraska facts.

🌻 - there is a park/reserve just outside Lincoln that has some bison in it. Do not fuck with bison. They will wreck your shit.

🌻 - I don't know if he is still alive but there used to be a bald eagle in the same park that only had one wing. (Actually I think he was missing half of one but still)

🌻 - the cottonwood tree is awful and on a bad year can look like a light snow if too many trees are nearby.

🌻 - the ashfall fossil beds are where you can go to see an active archeology site with the fossils of tons of animals killed by a volcano 12 million years ago.

🌻 - Nebraska has a unicameral. Which is basically instead of a state house and state senate we have one legislative body that is elected on a non-partisan ticket.

🌻 - it is illegal to fish whales in Nebraska. Once again we are completely land locked and there are no whales but.. its still illegal.

🌻 - I am dying here. Kathryn I will punch you.

🌻 - Morrill Hall also has elephant hall which is the main hall right when you pass the entry desk. It has like 15 (?) fossils in it and apparently it's the largest collection of elephant fossils on display.

🌻 - speaking of Morrill Hall, it only displays about 1% of it's collection. The rest is stored at Nebraska Hall nearby.

🌻 - I think the cranes in North Platte are lame.

🌻 - nebraska furniture mart in Omaha is apparently the largest in the country. Which I can believe. I went to the discount part and it was a giant warehouse. I don't know what the actual sale floor is like.

🌻 - cherry county is bigger than Connecticut.

🌻 - O street (highway 6) is the longest straight main street

🌻 - Nebraska has a testicle festival. It's probably exactly what you think it is. Too many fried cow balls is what it is.

🌻 - there is a really cool church between Lincoln and omaha called the Holy Family Shrine. Its got massive arches and is mostly glass. Im not catholic so it's not really a religious thing but a bitch can appreciate some cool architecture.

🌻 - the Hall brothers who made Hallmark (card company) are from Nebraska.

🌻 - UNL's Love library has a Shakespeare Folio. Its in the Special Collections and Archives' vault. I want to see it so bad and one of the archivists told me she would show me it next time they opened the vault but then corona... :(

🌻 - UNL's library also has like 5 million+ physical items in it's collections.

🌻 - the serial killer Charles Starkweather is buried in Wyuka in Lincoln.

🌻 - Kearney, NE is dead center geographically between Boston and San Francisco.

🌻 - 92% of the state is farmland/ranches.

🌻 - if you have made it this far I am sorry.

🌻 - Nearly every fun facts about nebraska page has mentioned that the food stuffs Spam is manufactured in Fremont. So I'll mention out of peer pressure.

🌻 - the bug is still in the kitchen. Kathryn has foresaken me. I may perish in the night.

🌻 - 10 more. There is a roller skating museum in Lincoln. It's at 48th and South streets. Has largest collection of historical roller skates.

🌻 - Larry the Cable Guy I'd from Nebraska and he has recorded narrations for some exhibits in the Lincoln children's zoo. Or he used to it's been awhile.

🌻 - going back to UNL stuffs. Morrill Hall is a pretty cool museum and you should definitely go there. If only to say hi to Archie.

🌻 - the bronze Archie that is outside the museum is currently sporting a fashionable face mask set both over his trunk and his actual mouth.

🌻 - there are a couple dino fossils in that museum and if you step over the barrier and onto the decorative rocks an alarm will go off. And staff will be pissed because now they have to tell at you.

🌻 - said museum also has a lot of cool rocks on the third floor.

🌻 - and the bottom floor has like a hall of nebraska animals where you can hit buttons to listen to animal sounds.

🌻 - aaand a room with a plesiosaur embedded in the floor which is really cool.

🌻 - there is also a cool museum in Nebraska called the SAC. Which is the museum for Strategic Air Command. It has a lot of planes and some stuff from moon missions and air force stuff. When I was little some oil from the big plane in the entrance leaked onto a pillow I had when I was sleeping under it on a trip.

🌻 - nebraska is better than iowa but nebraska kinda sucks too so it's not like it matters truthfully.

🌻 - Nebraska has a lot of weather like giant hailstones and tornadoes but Lincoln doesn't get much because it is in a geographic dent so weather tends to weaken over the city. Which is lame. I want lots of snow.

And there we are folks. 69 fucking facts. 58 of which are about Nebraska purely out of spite. I counted.

I am now off to murder my roommate.

(jk but you should expect to be quizzed)

#nebraska facts #in case anyone wants to learn any thing #long post #please save me this took an hour and a half to type on my phone #also i did look up about half of these. a lot i knew or are my original knowledge. #kathryn you bitch #i brought this on myself for opening my mouth and mentioning it. #also the bug has still not been killed #11/69 of these are not about nebraska.

[camillemontespan]

can we talk about georgiana, the duchess of devonshire?

So, a few months ago, I asked my followers who would be interested in following a side blog about historical figures. I’m a huge history geek and I thought that if I started a blog about the people who interest me, I could add it to my CV and also just get back into my interests. Quite a few of you were down for it and I was so pleased!

I’m yet to make the side blog but I’m posting this as a test to see if you guys like it. If you do, I will make the side blog. 

@jovialyouthmusic​ @fromthedeskofpaisleybleakmore​ @moonlightgem7​ @walkerswhiskeygirl​ @rainbowsinthestorm​ @saivilo​ @pug-bitch​ @katedrakeohd​ @gardeningourmet​ @mskaneko​  

****************************************************************************

Georgiana, the Duchess of Devonshire (1757-1806)

I love history for its people. I am not interested in battles or treaties; I am drawn to the people behind these events. I like discovering what made them tick, that drove their decisions and what impact their lives have had on future generations. If you ask me to date a certain event, I can’t do it, but I can give you a spoken biography of historical figures that interest me. 

When I moved to Devon two years ago, I was nervous but also excited for one reason: I believed I would be able to visit Chatsworth House, the home of the Duchess of Devonshire. Imagine my irritation when I realised that Chatsworth is actually based in Derbyshire, which is hours away from Devon itself. My ideas of weekend jaunts to Chatsworth as I admired the architecure and strolled around the gardens were ruined by this realisation. 

You may have heard of Georgiana, the Duchess of Devonshire. A film of her life starring Keira Knightley was released in 2008 which first brought her to my attention. Now, I’m not a Knightley fan - ‘I’m Keira Knightley, look at my jawww,’- because I find her quite wooden, however I was pleasantly surprised when I watched her performance. She brought a human element to this historical figure who was known for her fashion sense, crippling debt and controversial marriage arrangement. 

Georgiana is also the ancestor of Princess Diana. Many people compare their tragic stories and can see a mirror image. Married to man they didn’t really love, later forced to watch their husbands fall in love with another woman and say nothing, all the while maintaining dignity and poise on the world stage. 

So, without further ado, let me introduce you to Georgiana. 

 If Georgiana was your friend, she would be the one who would come over with a bottle of wine, over which you would put the world to rights and drunkenly proclaim, ‘I love you sooooo much!’ to each other, before deciding to have a spontaneous night out where you dance on the bar and pound shots. She would visit you the next day – you would be horrifically hungover, she would be fresh as a daisy.

Georgiana, the Duchess of Devonshire, was known for her charismatic and bubbly personality; her ability to make any outfit look beautiful (4 foot long peacock feather in her hair springs to mind) which made women everywhere try to emulate her - she literally set trends. She was also known for her passion for politics and her private life. 

On the surface, she had it all. But in reality, she didn’t. Underneath this larger than life facade was a tragic figure. 

For one thing,  Georgiana was addicted to gambling and racked up an eye watering debt. She borrowed money from her friends but never repaid them. Her mother warned her to be careful but to no avail.  Her mother also had a gambling problem and wasted money while playing faro. She didn’t want her daughter to continue her mistakes. Georgiana hid her debts from her husband for as long as she could, but eventually she had to tell the Duke, who paid off her debts and never mentioned it again. 

She had been expecting to get a bollocking but he stayed silent. To be honest, this made it worse. It’s like being told by your mum that she’s ‘disappointed’ in you, when you’d prefer her to shout at you for a few minutes and then forgive you. She struggled with gambling for years.

Second, and most importantly, her marriage was an unspoken controversy.  This is the thing that makes Georgiana an incredible character to study. I read her story and I just couldn’t work it out in my head - why would you put up with this? But then, you have to remember that divorce wasn’t an option for women in those days. Women were property. They were commodities. Leaving a marriage because your husband preferred another woman was not an option. 

It was the worst kept secret in society. Everyone knew that her best friend, Elizabeth ‘Bess’ Foster, lived with them and that Bess was her husband’s mistress. Georgiana had asked for Bess to live with them after she discovered that Bess’ sons had been taken away from her and she was living in awful circumstances. Georgiana was too good, too kind – and Bess took advantage.  Trust me, Bess is the villain in this story, no matter how often she tried to set her story straight. Diary accounts from Georgiana’s friends show that nobody trusted her. They could see her for what she was -a schemer, a leech. But Georgiana couldn’t. 

Bess stayed at Chatsworth and conducted a secret affair with her husband, which soon became public knowledge. Did Georgiana say anything? No. She let it carry on under her roof, without saying a word. In the film, she stands up for herself which is how it should have played out. But according to Amanda Foreman, the historian and writer of the book, this didn’t happen. Georgiana kept silent. 

 Although I wish I could shake her and tell her she deserves so much better, in a way I feel she shows a huge strength of character to put up with that. She continued her daily routine with dignity and carried on being a queen. 

 Now, this is when things get interesting and draws in another historical figure who I feel isn’t really known? At least, I didn’t know him, all I knew was that there are tea bags named after him. 

 The rumour is that she later fell in love with Charles Grey, a Whig politician  (later Prime Minister - I KNOW RIGHT? YOU GO GEORGIANA!) who had dreams of a bright, new world where all men had the vote. They were like minded and they could talk about these dreams together.  I adore how political Georgiana was and that she spoke publicly about her political associations in a time when women were expected to stay at home and mind their business. She actually brought about the trend of canvassing, where you go out into the streets and campaign for a party.  Having Georgiana on side meant the Whigs became popular quickly  - if anything, she became their figurehead. Anyway, I digress, but let me just say that she has so much depth. She is genuinely interesting.  

Right, Charles Grey. 

They had an affair and she became pregnant with his child. In short, she asked the Duke if she could leave him and be with Grey. After all, he was fucking her best friend and not giving a shit about her feelings. But, of course, the Duke refused. Hypocrite, yes. But the time period was different and he couldn’t risk the humiliation of being deserted by his wife – nor could she. Women who left their families were ravaged by society. She gave birth to Grey’s daughter, Eliza, in secret and the baby was raised by his family as Grey’s niece.  Again, that is a testament to her character. I’m sure many women would have felt broken after that. But she wasn’t – she visited Eliza frequently (who, when she grew up, named her daughter Georgiana after her mother. I think she knew by then) and she continued to partake in social engagements. 

What I love about her, aside from her strength, is how she challenges the stereotype of women of that time. In fact, she was way beyond her time. She was the one who started the trend for getting outside in the streets and campaigning for the Whigs. She was a WOMAN who was out in the streets campaigning, despite not even having a vote or even thinking her gender would one day have one, and she was so much more than just fashion and money. She was an intelligent badass who cared about how the country was run. She didn’t let gender stereotypes and restrictions hold her back. I love how no matter how shit her home life was, she didn’t let that bring her down. If anything, politics was her escape. It was where she could feel valued. She made friends with the Whigs, such as Charles Fox, and they wanted to hear her opinion. They needed her on their side because her opinion mattered. She mattered.

She was ahead of her time. She had a hard home life but she carried on, trying to make a difference and prove her worth. Georgiana is my home girl and I will stand up for her because no one else did.

I know this wasn’t a coherent piece.  It was all over the place, right? But that’s what history does to me. I get excited. If I’m talking to you about Georgina, my hands will be all over the place and my voice will be rising in volume because I get so passionate about the subject. I wrote essays at uni for my history degree and they were so proper, just the way university dictates you write.  All I wanted to write was ‘read how amazing this person is! Give me an A for enthusiasm!’ I once got a lower mark for an essay because I made the mistake of being too enthusiastic, writing a really in-depth profile on the historical figure, but forgot to answer the question… My tutor said he could tell I really enjoyed writing it but I didn’t actually fulfill the point of the essay. It wasn’t a harsh criticism - he was happy I enjoyed writing it but obviously, couldn’t grade me a high mark. 

But that’s how I approach history. I could sit here and try to write something proper but I think that is one reason why history is often a disliked subject. It CAN be boring if taught badly. 

I remember my history teacher in high school, Mr Pia, who was the best teacher I’ve ever had. He scared all the young students because he was so serious and never smiled and I tell you, I was scared when I found out he would be teaching me when I was in my final year. But, when I joined his class, he surprised us in a lesson about Austria. He played Mozart and said, ‘I thought I would try to evoke the right atmosphere!’

I fell in love with his teaching then and there.

THAT is what makes history a good subject. You need someone passionate, who looks at it differently. That’s how I would like to approach it. It may not be for some people but it works for me. 

If Georgiana has peaked your interest, you can read the biography by Amanda Foreman which is incredible. I couldn’t put it down. Even give the film a go - Ralph Fiennes plays the Duke and Dominic Cooper (babe) is Charles Grey. It’s on Netflix. Spend your Sunday watching it. It’s a great adaptation. 

[sad-sweet-cowboah]

OC Interview

I was tagged by @eddescuella and I will be doing all three of my babies! Tagging the others @r0xy-w0lf @verai-marcel @horsegirl1h @mrskrazy

Name?

“Misty Forester, or Misty Rodriguez. Depends on who you ask.”

“Michelle Delacruz. Michelle Mustang to everyone else.”

“Ryan Shane O’Donnell.”

Are you single? 

“For now.”

“Yes, and that ain’t changin’.”

Ryan purses his lips for a brief second. “Yes...”

Are you happy? 

“I don’t have a reason not to be.”

“For the time being.”

“I guess.”

Are you angry? 

“No, no reason to be.”

“I get angry about something or other on a daily basis.”

“Sometimes I feel anger...but I try to keep it contained.”

Are your parents still married? 

“My parents were never married, according to my mom.”

“They were before they died.”

“Very much still happily married.”

Nine facts!

Birthplace? 

“New York, where we don’t play.”

“New Austin, I think. Though I’ve heard speak about a place called Texas. Can’t really ask to confirm now.”

“Saint Denis.”

Hair colour? 

“Brown.”

“Black.”

“Red, or ginger as some people call it.”

Eye colour? 

“Green like the forests of West Elizabeth...or so I’ve been told.”

“A very light green. Sometimes they look gray.”

“Green...like the other two.”

Birthdate? 

“April 10th, 1877.”

“August 16th, 1877.”

“June 7th, 1875.”

Mood? 

Misty shrugs. “Pretty calm I guess.”

“Same.”

“Can’t say any different.”

Gender? 

“Female, duh.”

“Unless ya eyes ain’t working, female.”

“Male.”

Summer or winter? 

“I don’t mind both but I prefer summer.”

“I lived in the desert, so summer is a definite choice.”

“I like both, actually.”

Morning or afternoon? 

“I fucking hate mornings!”

“I’m an early riser through and through.”

“Used to be able to sleep in, but that changed when I had my son. So, mornings.”

Eight things about your love life

Are you in love? 

“Hmm...”

A look of longing appeared on Michelle’s face for a second. “I was once upon a time...”

“In a way I am, holding on to the past...”

Do you believe in love at first sight? 

“Love at first sight is all fairy tales.”

“That’s a no for me.”

“Used to think it was hogwash, until...” a small, sad smile crosses Ryan’s lips.

Who ended your last relationship?

“Never had one to begin with.”

“I did...I...had a son myself. Puny little thing who died just days after his birth. I was never the same afterward, and it drove a wedge between my lover and I. I couldn’t bare to hurt him anymore.”

Ryan places his hand on his chest, where a glint of a chain appeared with a delicate ring hanging from it. “Some racist bastards that killed my wife...”

Have you ever broken someone’s heart? 

“Yes, I know I have. I was still a teenager... the poor boy thought he would have something with me.”

“When I ended my relationship, yes.”

“My mother’s...after I married someone she didn’t approve.”

Are you afraid of commitment? 

“After learning my mother had her heart and soul poured into my father and he hadn’t returned... I would say yes.”

“I’ve always been. Even when I was with my son’s father.”

“No, I was always confident with my choices. I knew when I wanted to marry my wife, and I never looked back.”

Have you hugged someone in the last week? 

“I probably have. Can’t exactly recall.”

“I don’t really give affection.”

“My son.”

Have you ever had a secret admirer? 

Misty snorts. “Oh yes. That boy I mentioned earlier.”

“Psht, nah. Pretty sure people are more afraid I’d put a bullet into them.”

“Well...growing up rich definitely made me desirable in many women’s eyes.”

Have you ever broken your own heart? 

“I suppose...when I was a child and wishing for every Christmas and birthday that my father would come back home...of course that never happened.”

“I fooled myself into thinking that I could have a decent life and family after struggling for so long. How wrong I was.”

“No, not really.”

Four preferences

Smile or eyes? 

“I could get lost in someone’s eyes.”

“A little bit of both.”

“Yeah, a little bit of both for me as well.”

Short or taller? 

“I’m fairly tall myself. I can’t really see myself with a man shorter than me.”

“Everyone is taller than me, so I don’t really have a say in choice.”

“Doesn’t really matter.”

Intelligence or attraction? 

“I’ve met some handsome men with nothing between the ears, and it’s rare to find someone with both. Rare, but not impossible.”

“Intelligent. When life takes a hard turn, you need to know how to pick yourself back up.”

“A good brain and a pretty face is a great combination. That’s how my wife was.”

Hook up or relationship? 

“I’ve had my fair share of hook ups, and I still do. One day I’ll settle with the man I’m meant to be with.”

“I’m guilty of bed hopping too. As much as I’d like to have a relationship, I can’t bring myself to do it.”

Ryan bit his lip, looking sheepish. “Man has his needs, you know. Can’t deny a good time when you have no release. Right now I’m not even thinking of another relationship.”

Six choices

Love or lust? 

“Why not both?”

“Love. Lust is just temporary.”

“I will always choose love, but I have moments of lust too.”

Lemonade or iced tea? 

“Lemonade is pretty tasty.”

“I have no idea what iced tea is, so lemonade.”

“What is iced tea?”

Cats or dogs?

“Dogs.”

“I’m allergic to cats.”

“I had both in my household growing up, so I’m not biased.”

A few best friends or regular friends? 

“Best friends. I put too much trust in some ‘regular’ friends and nearly lost my life because of it.”

“The close friends are the ones you can count on.”

“Definitely a few best friends. The world is too cut-throat to trust too many people.”

Wild night out or romantic nights in? 

“I love to go out and have some fun! I never did have a romantic night in though, I guess that’s something I’ll have to look forward to.”

“I’m ain’t much of a sap. I’ll gladly jump on my horse and go crazy for the night.”

“A romantic night in...I miss those.”

Day or night? 

“I’ve always been a night owl.”

“I thrive in the sun.”

“Doesn’t matter to me.”

Four have you Evers

Been caught sneaking out? 

“A few times. I swear my mother has a sixth sense.”

“Nope, never.”

Ryan had to laugh. “Well... with a family full of psychics, kinda hard to go anywhere without someone knowing.”

Fallen down/ up the stairs? 

“You’d think as a dancer I’d be more graceful on my feet.”

“I mean, who hasn’t?”

“Honestly though, I’m pretty sure we’ve all done it.”

Wanted someone / something so badly it hurt? 

“My father, my sister...”

“So much, I wanted my parents back. My son back.”

“My wife, is that even a question?”

Wanted to disappear? 

Misty giggles slightly. “Out of embarrassment, yes.”

“More times than I care to admit...”

“No. As a father I can’t.”

Friends

Do you secretly hate one of your friends? 

“Wow, no.”

“Fuck no. The hell kinda question is that?”

“All of my friends are wonderful. I can’t hate any of them.”

Do you consider all of your friends as good friends? 

“They gave me a home when I had nowhere else to go, so yes.”

“They’re ride or die for life.”

“They let me come and go as I please since I have to be around for my son, and they don’t give me a hard time about it. They’re definitely good friends.”

Who is your best friend? 

“You’re making me choose?”

“My horses.” Michelle laughs. “They don’t talk back!”

“My wife was.”

Who knows everything about you? 

Misty ponders for a moment. “Honestly, no one.”

“My ex did.”

“My wife.”

Do you and your family get along? 

“My mother and I had our normal spats, but we’ve always been good with one another.”

“My sisters and I have had our fights when we were younger, but we had to grow up real quick when we became orphans. Hadn’t had an argument in years.”

“For the most part. My parents didn’t like it when I chose to marry a Japanese immigrant instead of one of the many eligible women in Saint Denis, but they lightened up over time.”

Would you say you’ve messed up in life? 

“I suppose so... when I decided to run with some undesirable people instead of conforming to society.”

“I’ve made some poor decisions when I was younger.”

“I don’t think so. I’ve never regretted any choices I’ve made.”

Have you ever ran away from home? 

“I was kidnapped.”

“No, never.”

“To go and marry the love of my life, yes.”

Have you ever got kicked out? 

“Nah.”

“Nope.”

“Thankfully no.”

#Michelle Delacruz #Misty Forester #Ryan O'Donnell #tagged stuff #Red Dead OC #RDO #RDO OC #Red Dead Online

[redemptionbaby]

I Won’t Hurt You (pt.2)

Pairing: RDR1!Javier/Reader

Word count: 1375

Summary: A night of drinking followed by a night of dreaming followed by a morning meal for two.

Notes: Sorry if this took a while, but I think it turned out pretty good! I really got into the zone.

He fucked it all up again. So he drank, but even the foggy reflection of his face in the dirty glass of whiskey reminded him of the monster you saw.

Things had been going well. Of course, it was nothing compared to how things used to be between the two of you. A part of him doubted that dream could even be reached, at least within his lifetime. It was lucky for him that you were a creature of adaptability and habit, he saw you resist falling into old patterns with him on the daily. Whether you wanted to admit it or not, you were starting to get comfortable, starting to passively and incrementally disregard his past transgressions. And he ruined it.

All he did was touch you. But to you, it meant more than that, and he knew it. It was a little place, where your hip met your back. A terrible place.

It was the first place he had ever touched you without caring about you. Where he put his grip the first time he fucked you without loving you, without giving a damn if he hurt you or pleasured you, that time and a shameful amount of times after. The first place that he bruised without kissing it better the next day.

One day you had even told him. With tears and a trembling voice, absolute despair at what had become of what was once love, you told him he was hurting you. He could still hear it, and he heard it often. What was louder was his deafening silence in response to your plea.

It was all too clear how well you remembered that place, from how you flinched and turned quickly. He’d left quickly after that. But the fact that he’d left wasn’t what you noticed most. What you’d noticed most was that he forced out an I’m sorry as he did.

The Javier at Beaver Hollow wouldn’t have done that. This Javier had been forced down. He’d lost a great deal of charm, pride, morality, and integrity. But he gained all the regret in the world, and maybe, just maybe, some humility. Even if only for you.

But while drowned in liquor and his own thoughts, he’d never realize this. He was running out of energy to lift his glass to meet dry, chewed up lips. So he made a good decision, for once, and shoved his ass off the barstool and went to greet the cold winds that swept the desert at night. To be awake, if only for a while longer, instead of falling asleep only to wake up again. Another day meant facing you. Such were the perks of working with your ex.

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

By some miracle, Javier was able to amble his drunk ass back to the shitty boarding house where the two of you were shacked up while tracking a target. He slept like a rock, and it was your fault. Though it wasn’t in the same bed as it once would have been, you had the kind of peaceful sleeping face that made him feel comforted and warm. Like he was at home. No matter how drunk he got. So he couldn’t help himself when he passed your room. He was selfish in that way, he thought. Once again comforted by the person he deserves nothing but hatred from. 

He had a hazy dream of a memory-- his mother showing him her old, beloved wedding dress. She had teased him, telling her she had been planning to give it to her daughter, but seeing as he was her only child, she said he’d just have to find a pretty girl who would wear it someday instead, or she’d make him put it on. In reality, she had then laughed at his wild refutations of such an idea and started tickling him.

But, ever the oracle and emissary of guilt in his dreams, her expression fell, and she asked the one question that seemed to drive every aspect of his life these days: Remember? He looked to her old, cracked vanity mirror and saw that he wasn’t a child anymore, just before he woke up.

The boarding house was some shithole of a place where you were the only two staying, your only other company being the old lady who owned the place, and she disappeared to do her own business after she served meals. She was kind, and a hell of a cook, but Javier hated that she could read him like an open book with a glass cover, and he suspected that she left the two of you alone so often for that very reason.

The old assassin quickly washed his face in the water basin, avoiding looking in the mirror as much as possible. A habit he picked up recently. Trudging down the short, empty hallway, he attempted to mentally prepare himself to face you, as he always did.

He stopped in the doorway, not being prepared to experience emotional whiplash so early in the morning.

There you sat, at your spot at the table, carefully picking the sugar snap peas from your meal and lifting them in little bunches with your fork and knife, carefully depositing them in a neat pile on the plate across the table. His plate. Many years ago, Javier had once gone on a drunken tirade while forcibly laying on you so that you couldn’t get up about all manner of stupid shit. His sober self would most definitely have thought it too embarrassing and childish to bring up, but Drunk Javier insisted upon you knowing that they were his favorite vegetable, even though vegetables as a whole are “stupid” and “a scam invented to fuck with people”. He then proceeded to make loud noises in an attempt to drown you out while you patiently explained to him the concept of scurvy.

From then on, any time snap peas were a part of any meal, which was rare, you set yours aside for him. You would make a big spectacle of not doing it when you were mad at him, but you’d go right back eventually, and that was always how he knew you’d forgiven him.

You gave him the side eye upon noticing him in the doorway. You’d already started taking apart your own meal with a quiet ferocity you’d always had when served meat you had to cut yourself. Javier proceeded to break himself out of his own thoughts and try really hard to amble casually to the table, thought he wanted to sprint. The usual palpable silence hung over the room. You often didn’t attempt conversation because you didn’t want to be disappointed, while he was trying to tread carefully around your very real and justified anger and trauma. He’d lost many things over the years, but he likes to imagine he’s retained some sense of tactfulness.

Your former lover continued to stare at his own plate like a dumbass, and you misinterpreted his look for confusion. So he was more than surprised when you started to speak, one cheek still puffed with half-chewed food.

“Remember? They’re... your favorite.” You spoke with a quiet hesitancy, like with every syllable you were locked in an internal debate on whether or not to continue. “Or, they were, I guess.” You looked down at your plate, wet regret budding in your eyes, in a way that made Javier Escuella just want to fucking die. He lunged at the chance to make conversation, to draw you away from your own spiraling thoughts.

“They still are. You never forget a damn thing, muñeca,” He remarked fondly. He’s sure sometimes you wish you could, though.

And the way his fork clinks against the plate as he shoving snap peas in his mouth makes you feel so bittersweet you want to cry. He’s overacting like a parent trying to cheer up their crying child. It feels so warm and lovely to have your feelings so delicately considered, but you also feel an aching sense of self-betrayal at the knowledge of who’s making you feel this way.

To tell the truth, Javier hadn’t thought of sugar snap peas in years. Not once. But now he thinks he wants to eat them every damn day for the rest of his life.

#rdr2 #rdr2 x reader #rdr x reader #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption x reader #red dead redemption 2 x reader #javier escuella x reader #Javier Escuella #writing #drabble

[icosmohunters]

chapter one : haunted ship

chapter one of cosmo hunters!

word count : 4.3k words

synopsis : hope is stranded on an ice-covered moon whilst out on the hunt for a particular ship terrorist, fixing her ship whose engine was malfunctioning. in the days that come, she notices that some things have gone missing. that’s when she starts hearing sounds from the basement . . . 

“ day three on europa . . . nothing has run out yet, and i finally realized what the problem is with the engine, it seems like one of the cables burnt out and now i have to replace it. a.j is helping me sort it, but i don’t know whether i’ll make it in time to catch crimson at the j-colony. i’m in deep shit. “

hope held the recording device to her lips, her eyes darting across a star-lit, black vacuum of space. she found that putting and sorting her thoughts into a recording helped her more than typing it out on her monitor. even though she knew a.j was listening, she felt better speaking rather than holding all of the thoughts in her head. going through her problems often helps her understand them. well, some of them.

as of now, she sat with her legs perched on the smooth surface of the control panel, her spine resting against the soft cushion-like material her chair provided her. she’s been stranded, that was obvious. and being stranded, for an introvert, can be quite frankly, the best thing in the world.

because as devoted as she was to her job, hope just didn’t give a fuck sometimes.

three days on the moon europa, one of the four celestial bodies attracted by the dense monster that was the planet jupiter. europa used to be the ice ball that scientists often fantasized about, holding craters within its sea of ice which potentially held the essences for life like on earth; water, lava, magma flowing in the core. 

and after having spent a while on its surface, hope could say that there wasn’t anything on this useless ball of ice! sure, she didn’t like using her weapons on dumb things, she often tried to avoid encounters with monsters and aliens but she had been hoping that there would be a challenge aside from the burnt cable in the ship’s engine.

nothing, nothing at all. not even a single insect.

at this point in her isolation, her fingers were burnt and aching from meddling with cables, her energy drink supply had run out and a.j’s battery was slowly running out. and the only way to charge him was to head down to a ship dock and ask a professional to do. because she didn’t have the clearance to do it herself.

“ i swear, ever since these fuckers left earth, they think that anyone outside of their corporation isn’t capable of handling things themselves “, hope complained, sitting up from her chair and tapping the button on the recording device, turning it off. “ do i need a certificate to charge a damn a.i? “.

a voice broke through the echoing silence, “ it’s the law. you just have to follow it considering you already made them bitter by leaving the corporation. “

“ stop reminding me, you ass “, hope grunted, looking up to the small screen planted on the roof of the navigation cabin. considering she had decided to make a.j a voyage companion, she couldn’t design him a physical appearance like that of other ships she’s seen belonging to the corporation. so she had grown accustomed to his sultry, matter-of-fact tone of voice. always condescending. “ you’re supposed to be on my side. “

“ i was not manufactured to be biased, hope. i was manufactured to have a middle-ground set of morals “.

the bounty hunter rolled her eyes, sighing a small yeah, yeah because she’s heard it all too many times. one could say she had fucked herself over by choosing a.j to be like this, it would mean that he would easily turn her in if she did something wrong. hence why she’s careful with almost anything she does.

having recorded as she does every morning, hope got up from her comfortable seat rather reluctantly, not showing any intention of doing a lot that day but her mission was four days away. and in case you were wondering, a jovian day is roughly nine fours. meaning she had thirty-six hours to get the ship fixed and her ass down to the j-colony.

why didn’t she contact the emergency board? because they’re a bunch of assholes, and they don’t act unless if someone is on the brink of death.

plus, hope has pissed them off all too many times. they don’t like her too much.

so, yeah . . .

“ fuck! “.

it had only sunk on her now just how much trouble she was in, putting her hands over her pallid face and releasing a frustrated sigh that echoed loudly. only now had she realized what the problem with the engine was and how long it would take for her to fix it was unpredictable. her mission was going to be a failure because she didn’t switch a cable. a fucking cable.

oh, how she wished to take the cable and strangle herself with it.

fighting the urge to procrastinate considering her life was on the line, hope approached the elevator and stepped into the booth, over-looking her cabin for a tender moment and then press the button down to the basement where the engine was stored.

the ship she chose was, of course, manufactured by voyage inc, the biggest tech company helping in the colonization process around the solar system as well as advances for galaxy exploration. the ship wasn’t the latest model, it was at least three seasons ago but she loved it nonetheless. besides, the newer models had removed the controls which she liked, now it was all buttons and waiting, no action, nothing, just letting the ship do everything for you. quite frankly, that’s vile. and lazy. 

the walls were a pastel grey, decorated with trails of neon lines in particularly purple colors, especially lilac, hope really liked the color lilac. because it was lilac. and any other color beside it was awful. most of the ship followed this pattern, lilac, and grey, lilac, and white, but never lilac and black. 

in a way, her ship was a masterpiece because she helped piece it together, choosing the elongated shape to allow many rooms and space for the navigation cabin, making the back of the ship slightly wider to allow another two propellers for extra power. the ship was rather large, painted in an ebony black as to blend into the vacuum of space in which it traveled. 

needless to say, the ship was beautiful inside and out, unlike its owner.

“ a.j, turn the lights in the basement. “

when the elevator had reached its destination, the transparent glass doors slid open and hope stepped out into the lower part of the ship. below her would be the storage floor. but she didn’t care for it too much at that moment considering she had an engine to fixed.

gloves on, goggles on, hope whistled and tapped on a button against the elevator panel. a screen appeared, holographic and following the bounty hunter as she walked away towards where work was required. on this screen, she typed something and then sent it flying back to its projector. she was putting on music.

for an introvert like hope, who isolated herself from people and who rode solo, music had become a secondary companion when a.j wasn’t in the mood for a chit-chat. the passion for lyrical masterpieces came mostly from a theatrical mother who studied music in her time at school. her father wasn’t the biggest fan, but hope felt it like it was more than that.

she supposed that maybe music was just always a part of her.

anyway, her song of choice that evening was some mac miller, what’s the use, to be more precise. groovy and smooth, it put her mind at rest and her feet moving even whilst opening up the hatchet for the engine and exposing herself to the possibility of getting burnt.

usually whilst enjoying some tunes, hope doesn’t like to be interrupted, and a.j knew it all too well. but at least half an hour into the mechanical process, hope began to feel a sense of discomfort. she’s not accustomed to being with people, so of course, she didn’t realize that the discomfort came from that feeling of being watched. and it took her a while to detach herself from the focus she was pouring into the work, so when she looked up, she had forgotten about the worry.

a swift lift of the head and a glance over both shoulders. nothing. she knew there was no reason to be paranoid, what kind of life would exist in a deserted place like this? she wasn’t expecting a strange ice octopus to seep out of the craters to smash her ship to pieces, so she assumed it was only the anxiety getting to her. after all, she still had to fix the ship.

“ a.j, could you-- “.

“ on it, hope. “

whilst a.j ran a search through the ship’s mapping and tracking system, checking through surveillance, hope tried to distract herself with the work she was originally completing. of course, she was tense, and with tension comes the unbearable heat. soon, she removed her grey t-shirt and now remained in her leggings and sports bra, both with the grey and lilac design like that of her ship. 

yeah, hope just really likes being shirtless.

after being away from huge crowds and society as a whole, she’s developed a lack of care when it comes to her own comfort and decides that sports attire is the best for her, hence why she wears it on a daily basis unless if she’s leaving the ship.

patting her solid abdomen for a moment, the bounty hunter took a small pause to admire her work. the cable had been replaced with another one she could but now she needed to connect it in and then sync it into the control panel and ugh, just boring technical shit that she wasn’t cut out for. but she had to do it in order to get herself to her scheduled mission.

“ hope, there’s something wrong. “

her expression dropped along with her stomach. gulping, hope fixed her posture and stood with her shoulders wide and chest broad. she wasn’t a coward, that’s for sure, but if there was a problem, she had to deal with it face-on. “ what’s wrong? “, she quickly asked.

“ it appears that the cameras sensed movement moments ago but nothing’s happened. or so it appeared, something seemed to have shifted in your room “, a.j explained in a tone she didn’t recognize. he sounded . . . worried, unlike him. very unlike him.

“ my room, you say? “.

“ correct. “

that sounded incredibly stupid considering she was the only one in the ship, the last time she checked, which was about . . . an hour ago. brows furrowed together, hope bit her lip and threw her gaze towards the engine. maybe the cameras weren’t working properly because she was tempering with the main source of energy.

“ i’ll check it out later, a.j. simmer down for now. “

being an obedient piece of technology, a.j shut up and went idle based off of a jingle that hope heard. the bounty hunter sighed for the hundredth time that afternoon and shook her head, maybe she was starting to go insane because of her worries. she needed to get this engine fixed soon.

time skip  ﹏

around two hours later, the bounty hunter was attempting to get through a full meal without getting distracted by something else. usually, when sat in peace, she’s interrupted. and today wasn’t that different. it was around lunch-time and she was trying to enjoy a microwaved meal and what remained of the energy drinks in the fridge, until a.j tuned in.

“ the cameras have picked up more movement, hope, this time in the basement. “

the girl held her hand over her eyes and tutted, “ maybe they got confused considering i was there two hours ago. nobody would be on this ship, a.j, so stop scaring me as if this ship is haunted or something! “. she didn’t know her a.i was capable of jokes, but it turned out he was.

it wasn’t that hope was scared of ghosts. she’s seen enough to know that there are worse things out there in comparison to spooky beings out of campfire stories. she’s seen giant centipedes over twenty meters long, she’s seen sea octopuses with spikes in the suckers, she’s seen seven feet long cave beasts with enough strength to crush a person to a single atom.

it was that everything pointed to a malfunction in the cameras because of the lack of a properly functioning engine. nothing pointed to the idea of ghosts or someone having invaded her ship, and besides, she had other things to worry about. 

so hope stood up and slammed her plate on the table with a semi-amount of force, not enough to break the plate but enough for the sound of the perasima dinnerware to echo. she went down to the basement, tapping her trainers impatiently against the floor and stepping out when the elevator dinged.

clapping her palms twice, the lights flickered on and hope’s eyes hunted for something out of place. the shirt she had taken off was still by the chair, her toolbox hadn’t moved an inch and the hatchet remained open. nothing seemed out of place and if a.j was a person, hope would have turned to pull at his ear.

“ i need to reboot your system if you keep this up, a.j “, the bounty hunter voiced forcefully, but her statement brought no response. considering her job was done there, hope ultimately turned to come back to her meal but something caused her to stop in the middle of her tracks.

footsteps.

now, that was definitely not right. yet hope remained still, completely still before suddenly turning in hopes of actually finding someone standing there. but instead, she was met with the same room full of the same oxygen as before. nothing out of the ordinary. except for the fact that she heard footsteps when she was supposed to be alone.

“ a.j, has the emergency response team replied to our distress signal? “.

“ nothing from them, i believe. “

hope bit her lip, her eyes darting across the basement before she found herself unable to go upstairs, she had to stay here to ensure that her sanity wasn’t going haywire and that she could fix the engine in time for her mission. it looked as if she wouldn’t be sleeping any time soon, which was fine by her if it meant catching whatever fucker had decided to start messing with her.

so she walked to the toolbox, slipped the gloves and goggles one, and continued to work, attaching cables to more cables, fidgeting with copper and other moldable metals, backing away at certain moments to avoid catching fire. all whilst looking over her shoulder and ensuring that nobody was creeping up behind her.

god, since when was hope, the bounty hunter, afraid of ghosts? “ not ghosts, not ghosts “, the girl repeated to herself underneath her trembling breath, blinking every once in a while to keep herself awake. a.j came online many times to tell her to relax or lay down, but now she was too disturbed to even think about resting. “ you scared me from my sleep, you fucker. how am i going to sleep after hearing footsteps? “.

“ perhaps your lack of sleep and fondness of replacing rest with heaps of energy drinks and caffeine pills is what’s causing you to have hallucinations. rest, hope, please. “

“ no. “

a.j persisted a couple more times until he gave up, hope could just imagine him shrugging before going offline.

she must have been up working for a good hour until her exhaustion got the better of her. hope recalls slowly dozing off and soon, she had passed out against the hatchet, at least she was far enough from it to avoid being burnt. having slept for a small amount of time, hope had regained enough energy and awareness to suddenly hear a.j coming online.

“ hope, wake up. “

rubbing her eyes with her bare hand, the bounty hunter yawned and paid a quick glance around her surroundings, forgetting her fears and worries for a moment. “ for god’s sake if you’re going to tell me you heard more footsteps i might start crying, a.j “, she complained, voice droopy as she tried to rid herself of the last few cobwebs of sleep.

except for this time, a.j most definitely did not have to alert her of anything. if anything, she caught on quite easily when she saw that the toolbox that once had rested beside her was, in fact, gone. hope didn’t react at first, but then she threw herself up and bolted to the elevator, slamming the button until the doors slid. it was like a bomb was about to be set off.

for some reason, she first chose to go to the top floor where the navigation cabin was just to check that nothing had seeped into her lockers or the cabinets, but hope spotted nothing at first. upon taking a level down, she started to rush through the halls, throwing all the doors open. first her bedroom, then the spare bedrooms, then the lounge and even the toilets and the kitchen once again.

she kinda regretted not bringing a weapon now.

a.j had gone absolutely radio silent, which wasn’t comforting for a girl in such a turmoil. it didn’t really dawn on her that perhaps a.j had moved the box via some robot arm that he had access to in the basement, it seemed unlikely that he would scare her that much. or that he held those bad intentions.

so the bounty hunter was left frozen in the grey and lilac halls, in a dying ship on an icy moon with no means of being saved by any space shuttle passing by. with no means of being helped. nothing, she was alone in this instance.

for the first time, the bounty hunter felt fear.

especially when she heard footsteps to her right. they echoed for seeming ages, they weren’t loud, they were gentle like the soles were guilty of causing noises and disrupting the peace, careful and sneaky. like a thief had broken in and that’s when it landed on her for the first time that she had been reading it all around, completely wrong!

no ghost would haunt her, no camera would malfunction like that. nothing like this would be possible unless if the scum of space had somehow found its way into hope’s ship.

pirates.

immediately, hope turned and bolted towards the weapon room, unaware that the footsteps had ceased at the sound of her own rapid ones, weaving through the halls in search of the double doors that were thrown open at her arrival without her having to do much. hope rose her gaze in hopes of finding the weapons as they were, except the shelves were nearly empty, in no way untouched. it looked like someone had clearly broken in and pillaged everything. all of her guns and tools, everything!

all except for a potent little ray gun that would be quite useful considered it fired nothing but sleeping darts. and poison darts. she hadn’t planned on using it before her mission yet here she was, fingers just craving to wrap themselves around the neck of a pirate in hopes of strangling them for all the terror caused.

of course, hope was incredibly nervous as her hands wrapped themselves around the gun, she hadn’t planned on shooting anyone until her mission in the coming hours but now her ship was being invaded and the bastard had to get off whether they liked it or not. 

from what she quickly recalled, she had heard the guilty footsteps on the hallways leading to the lounge. so that’s where she went, her steps just as gentle as feathers touching a body of water. hope had lost the sense of feeling stupid in walking through her very own ship like she was a stranger to it, because she was angry at this point, and blood-thirsty, one could say.

honestly, she would really like that cable now.

upon approaching the lounge area, she suddenly became very still. because never once has she been so willing to be prepared for an attack. wherever this pirate was, she was going to find them and once she does . . .

well, she’s not too certain what she’ll do.

but then the footsteps came, louder this time and from directly behind her. and instead of flinching, hope turned herself around and fired first before they could approach her. and by the grunt she heard, she’d hit her target. the dim lights of the hallway suddenly flickered on properly and what hope was staring at now was a man on the ground, his chest heaving.

“ you didn’t have to shoot. “

hope’s eyes flickered to his hands, where he held her taser gun, probably the one which he had stolen from her very own weapon room.

“ you were gonna tase me, asshole! “.

looking at him now, hope found him to be a rather good-looking man with enough muscle power to be considered as a muscle pig, but through the way his face contorted with pain and the way he winced like a little kid, she was left feeling unimpressed. her left hand dropped to her hip, the ray gun still in her right hand.

this was the pirate on her ship?

“ stand down, guys. “

oh, there’s more. how didn’t she think of that?

hope looked to her sides and saw two figures emerge, both seemingly female from the long hair. one was a brunette, the other a blonde, both seemingly the same age or around the same age. to her left, hope saw two men emerge, both carrying the expression of either distaste or displeasure, she couldn’t decide between the two. 

“ a.j, it seems like you were right about the rodents in the ship. “

the a.i tuned in quickly, activating what seemed to be a shock effect on the ship floors that sent all the pirates to their knees and then to the ground. hope was unaffected, as she was stepping on a structure on the floor which kept her from being affected. had she stepped on the ground, she would have collapsed just like all of them. the shock stuns the nervous system and weakens it. quite a useful trick for intruders. it was also why hope would never upgrade her ship to the newer releases from the corporation.

“ ok, that hurt “, one of the females said, seemingly the short brunette who held a rather sweet and docile voice carrying no danger at all. hope refrained from trusting it. “ c-can you warn us next time? “.

“ there won’t be a next time considering i’m throwing you rats out “, hope decided and the first guy who tried to attack her with the taser gun rose his head and turned his neck to meet her unbothered gaze. “ unless if you can give me a reason to let you stay? “. she was kidding, she wanted them all out.

“ uh . . . we’re stranded and hungry and need to get back to pluto? “.

pluto? is he kidding? 

hope sighed and couldn’t help but chuckle, a coping mechanism for her disbelief in this situation. “ listen, dipshit. i’m not in the mood of being a taxi service. i have places to be. and i’d rather get there than be distracted by shitty space pirates who can’t sneak around to save their lives. seriously, your footsteps were loud enough to be heard in china “, she complained. 

one of the boys, with curled brown locks held back by a black bandanna, stared at her right in the eyes. “ we’re stranded, we need food and weapons and a way back to our base “, he grunted, struggling to move against the small electric shocks that came from the slightest movements. “ have some kindness, rumplestiltskin! “.

hope blinked, she’s going to pretend he didn’t just call her after a fictional villain. she wasn’t that ugly, she believed . . .

“ okay, is it just possible for you to let us explain ourselves? the floor is hurting me and i really just want food, w-we can explain it over dinner . . . “, the blonde woman spoke up, meeting hope’s gaze. the young woman was almost swayed by the proposal.

“ what’s your name, blondie? “.

the woman seemingly hesitated and then replied with a softer tone, “ vivienne. “

hope nodded, a lovely name. “ okay, vivi can definitely talk to me over dinner because she asked politely and has acknowledged the position i hold here. as for the rest of you, i’ll just let you starve until you start acting nice “, she decided, tilting her head to the side.

“ you’re mean “, the buff dude spoke.

“ that’s my middle name “, hope sassed back and sighed. “ i’ll repeat myself. whoever’s in charge between you freaks will have to decide whether you want to have dinner with me and explain just what you’re doing on my ship. either that or i’m throwing you out into the cold. “

the buff guy who had fallen first suddenly grunted, and looked at hope, so she returned the gaze. his eyes suddenly hardened, jaw clenched as if he was contemplating the next move and she hoped it was a smart one.

and thankfully it was.

“ fine, we’ll discuss it over dinner. “

#chapter 1 #space pirates au #writing #original writing

[s4msepiol]

Headcanon #1 | Yeux Disent Le Contraire

• Title: Yeux Disent Le Contraire  • Type: Fluff                                  • Requested by: @ramimalekrp-roleplayerpage • Request: “Can you do something with the character falling in love but using the attack method of hating you that couldn’t express his love to reader?” • Prompt: How the two of you went from enemies to lovers. • Pairing: Rami | Ahkmenrah | Josh | Finn | Reader

Whenever someone asked you about your relationship with the actor you weren’t quite sure about what to answer them.

You were his stylist that was a fact, something concrete and tangible, black on white. Unfortunately, most interviewers weren’t satisfied with such a pragmatic answer.

Was it friendship? Totally not. “Friend” was probably the last word that would have come to your mind to describe your relationship with Rami.

“Okay… Mr. Malek look over here… Perfect.” You heard the photographer say to Rami who was pretty photogenic under that light.

In fact, you could have found him handsome if your opinion of him wasn’t polluted by his extraordinary ability to make you lose your temper.

“Thank god, now I can take off that horrible shirt…” Rami said loudly enough for you to hear at the end of the photo shoot, with the exact same smirk he had every time he tried to get on your nerves.

That smirk could have sum up the whys and wherefores of every argument you had had with him.

The outcome of which was always the same, no matter what the reason.

He would fire you or you would resign then both of you would fight to prove that you were the one that had decided to put an end to that disastrous collaboration.

He would finally call you at an ungodly hour to stammer some excuses explaining that you were the only stylist he wanted to work with. After a few minutes you would put an end to those bowing and scraping with a concise yet so satisfying ‘I hate you, Malek.’ and at those words he would know that you would be back at work the following day.

At the end of the photo shoot, you packed up your things and were going to leave when you heard Rami’s agent’s voice.

“Y/N wait! I would need you to go to L.A next week with Rami for the SAGs.” And before you could answer anything you heard an all too familiar voice say:

“What about just sending the outfit to my hotel, trust me you would do me a favor by not coming with me.” Rami snapped directly at you.

“You’re sure you’re gonna be able not to put your pants on backwards without me, Malek.” He opened his mouth only to be interrupted by his agent.

“Are the two of you done? I’d like to see both of you alive by the end of the award season.”

“It wouldn’t be a great loss…” Rami sputtered ignoring his agent’s remark.

“Yeah picture that ‘Stylist kills an extra from Twilight.’” You retorted miming a newspaper cover.

“At least you would get to make the cover for once.”

“Fuck you.”

 “You wish.” And at those words, his agent handed you your plane ticket.

“We have a reservation under Malek, please.” Rami declared to the receptionist.

The latter gave Rami only one key…

“Excuse me, sir. There must be a mistake… Hum… I’m pretty sure we reserved two rooms for tonight…”

Do I need to mention that Rami’s attempts to find a solution were vain, the hotel being completely booked…

“You can have the bed, if you want, and I'll take the couch.” You heard Rami say from the bathroom.

“I’ll save you from that cliché...” You stated putting on your jacket. “I’m gonna sleep at a friend’s place, I’ll see you in the morning.”

And when you opened the door to leave, you froze at his raspy voice.

“Why do you always do that?”

“Do what?” You said turning away from the opened door to face him.

“Take two steps backwards every time I take one forward.” He literally took a step towards you, as if to prove something. You didn’t flinch.

“Rami, look I’m really not in the mood to fight with you at the moment. I thought you’d be happy not to have to spend the night with me, but you’re even more complicated than I thought…”

“Why wouldn’t I want to spend the night with you, Y/N?” He whispered to your ear, his left-hand closing the door behind you, his right-hand pulling you to him before crushing his lips to yours…

At your arrival at the museum while everybody was greeting you, he stayed away and stared at you with a look you couldn't quite identify at first. Hatred or indifference, maybe both but before you could put your finger on it Sacagawea dragged you through the hallways meanders of the museum.

Your first argument was about his guards obeying to you whenever he wasn't around, your Arabic being better than his. This disagreement only being the first of many.

He wasn't sure about how he had figured it out, probably because of the Iris scent floating in the Egyptian exhibit hallways when he came back or because of the chuckles of his stone giants whenever he would speak to them in Arabic.

I “أتعتقد ان هذا مُضحك ؟” I (you think that's funny?) He asked you dryly, interrupting your daily attempt to reconcile Jedediah & Octavius after the latter had insulted the first one’s mother in latin.

I “أتعتقد ان هذا مُضحك ؟” I You corrected him, putting the emphasis on the right syllable. He had developed a special ability at hiding what he felt when he was around you but you could see by his clenched-jaw that his annoyance was overflowing out of him like Nile after the rainy season.

“Lady Y/N, would you join me for a walk?” Lancelot asked you politely, interrupting Larry’s daily attempt to reconcile Ahk and you, his main idea being about looking for what the two of you had in common instead of fighting about your differences.

“It would be a pleasure.” You answered, secretly thanking Lancelot for putting an end to Larry’s lecture. Standing up to follow Lancelot you felt a pair of eyes on you and for some reason the feeling of those vibrant green eyes on you felt kind of pleasant.

“So what, you’re just gonna leave us here, Y/N?” Larry deplored as you passed your arm through Lancelot’s inviting him to walk with you.

“Don’t take it personally Larry but those little sessions between the three of us are less pleasant than the ten plagues of Egypt, deaths of firstborns included.” And before you even finished your sentence, Ahkmenrah’s expression went from a gaze darker than his coal hair to a chuckle he was desperately trying to hide, in vain.

Joining back your exhibit at the end of that little walk with the knight, you noticed Ahk sitting on your sarcophagus, in the dark.

“How was it?” He asked, his tone closer to the whisper than to a question. For the first time in what felt like millenniums there wasn’t a single ounce of irony, sarcasm or bitterness in his voice.

“It was like feeling what Jews felt when they crossed the Sinai desert…” You retorted, sitting next to him.

Another half-hidden chuckle… and for some reason you realized that his laugh was one of the most melodic thing you had ever heard. Still, his eyes were avoiding yours.

I “هل حاول تقبيلك؟” I  (did he try to kiss you?)

You couldn't tell what surprised you the most, his question or the fact that he asked this in a perfect Arabic.

I “لا.” I (no.) You didn't know how many seconds, minutes, centuries had passed between his question and your answer but you were sure of one thing: his eyes never left yours during that span of time.

“Good.” And at that word he pressed his lips against yours…

You and Josh used to be very good friends.

Your friendship often earning you some dumb jokes from the band about when the two of you would take it to the next step.

You don't really know when that friendship (not to say little infatuation) turned into the taste of ashes you had in mouth every time Chris would mention Josh's name.

You had been one of the few persons he had accepted to see after his sisters’ disappearance.

The only person, in fact… and that for a while…

You used to pick him up after his sessions with Dr.Hill, and despite circumstances that tradition was your favorite moment of the week.

And something was telling you that he looked forward to this Wednesday tradition as much as you did.

He would always find an excuse not to go home right after his appointment. Excuses that went from a new horror movie you desperately needed to see, to a new pizzeria in town which pizzas were “better than almost any trip to the bone zone.”

You often caught yourself smiling at the thought of the note he had once left you on a napkin willingly forgotten in your car.

You can't tell when or why he decided to put an end to those traditional Wednesday afternoon trips but one thing was sure, you hadn't seen it coming.

“Hum… Sam offered to take me home after my session tomorrow… I’m hope you don’t mind…”

Not that you were against the idea of Josh making up with Sam, Chris and the others. You had been encouraging him to do so for months.

But he had done it so quickly almost precipitously…

And the closer he got to them, the farther you felt from his orbit…

Your exchanges soon only consisted of a nod in the morning when the two of you would join the band.

You weren’t even friends anymore, just two persons having friends in common.

Soon enough, the indifference turned to hatred.

You often thought about tearing that freaking napkin apart.

Still, you've never been able to... Because that stupid piece of paper was the only thing proving that you had been friends, if not more. The only thing proving that you hadn’t made it all up…

To your surprise, he invited you to the lodge with the band.

But you knew Josh, probably better than he knew himself, and you had noticed that the closer you got to his sisters’ disappearance anniversary the harsher and more acrimonious were the few remarks he granted you of.

You soon concluded that he didn’t want you to come, that he just didn’t want to be the kind of asshole that invites everyone besides one particular person.

So you came up with some lame excuses about not being available because of a family dinner.

And for the first time in months, you caught the glimpse of a smile on his face at your words. It was official, he hated you...

You're the first person he asked for after waking up in the hospital, the day following his prank.

At first, every cell of your body told you not to go, that he wanted you only because everyone had turned their back to him after his demonstration of humor.

Unfortunately for you and your will not to care, while you were on the phone with Josh’s mother explaining you how important you were to him and how he didn’t want to see anyone besides you, your eyes lingered on the piece of paper pinned on the wall.

“I’ll go.” You said out of the blue, interrupting whatever she was saying while your fingers brushed the words on the napkin, as if to feel the hand that had left them there.

“Y/N? You came?”

“I did it for your mother… and because that’s what…” You stopped at the thought of Beth and Hannah. “… they would have wanted me to do.”

You hated that man with every fiber of your being, still your heart bled at the sight of the scratches, bruises and stitches on his face.

You can’t tell how much time you stayed there on that chair next to his bed, your mind emanating and analyzing a thousand thoughts per second.

“What are you thinking about?” Josh asked, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“I just don’t understand you, Washington. So what, you hate me enough to destroy every shred of affection I used to have for you but not enough to pull that sick prank on me?”

He remained silent.

“You know what? That was a bad idea, I shouldn’t have come.” You declared before standing up to leave.

He grabbed your wrist before you could do so.

You looked at him, searching in his eyes to know what was happening in the battlefield that he called his mind.

“You really don’t get it, do you?” And before the sound of his voice even stopped resonating within you, his lips captured yours.

Tobey hired you after you beat him in a car race.

The guys were so excited at your arrival, their team despite being the best of the country desperately needed to be spruced up.

Finn quickly shook your hand before going back to the mustang he was working on.

You decided not to care, your attention being fully caught by Joe and Benny's questions about your favorite brand of hubcap or your opinion on this or that car model.

The first car you worked on with the team was a Swedish Koenigsegg Agera R.

After 1 month spent pampering that car, you could count on one hand the number of times you and Finn had talked to each other.

“Guys… hum and Y/N, the work you did on that beauty is breathtaking. I’ve been thinking about this a lot and I’m sure everyone here will agree with me… Y/N I would like you to drive her at the next De Leon.” Tobey solemnly declared handing you the keys of the car. Benny and Joe opened a beer and drank to you.

“To Y/N and her new steed. I hope that it won’t be the last thing you will be riding.” Benny declared raising his beer.

You hadn't been able to appreciate every sexual nuances of his joke, the latter reminding you that the De Leon, despite being the most prestigious race was also the most dangerous.

“That’s out of question.” Finn retorted suddenly, reminding you by doing so that he was there.

Joe, Benny and Tobey defended you, reminding him that you were the best and that he knew it.

“You heard me, that’s out of the question. I’ve put so much effort in that car that there’s no way I’m gonna entrust it…” He stopped as if to gather the courage to speak. “… to a girl.”

The garage remained silent for a few minutes.

“Go fuck yourself, Finn.” Tobey finally said, putting his jacket on and inviting Joe and Benny to do so.

The minute you heard their cars driving away, it took you all your will not to kill Finn right there and then.

Wrenches were thrown.

You had never noticed his skill at avoiding objects thrown in the air by a woman’s bruised ego.

“You know that I’m gonna drive it whether you like or not.”

“Nope.”

“You know I am.”

“That’s what we’ll see.” Finn taunted you before trying to break the window of the car with a wrench you had “placed” there sooner.

You stood in front of the car window before he could do so.

You were not even sure, given your relationship with him, that it would keep him from ruining 4 weeks of hard work (or incidentally from putting an end to your life).

It worked.

He dropped the wrench, the impact sound of which on the floor made you flinch.

“Don’t you ever do that again.” He ordered you, while staring at your face to be sure he hadn’t hurt you.

He had a smile drawn on his face. Finn was a handsome man; a thousand thrown wrenches wouldn't change anything to that.

“What makes you smile?”

“You’ve got a bit of…” He said low while wiping away a small stain at the corner of your mouth. “… motor oil.

You couldn't tell if it was true or not but the kiss he placed on your lips right after felt better than winning any race.

✉️ @dearmrmalek @ramimalekrp-roleplayerpage

#fluff #fics #headcanon #flufframi #fluffjosh #fluffahk #flufffinn #rami malek #rami malek fic #rami malek imagine #rami malek x reader #Ahkmenrah #joshwashington #until dawn #joshua washington #myhc #mywork #🖤

[sortasirius]

Ragged Breath

Pairing: Steve/Tony

AN: *record scratch* *freeze frame* I bet you're wondering how I got here.   Oh yeah it's because I saw Endgame for the fifth time (I have a problem) and truly find something else gay to write about because the 2012 Stony stan in me is constantly fed when seeing this film. (Also pls let me know what you think I crave validation.)

Words: 1720

On my AO3 here.

Tony had gotten used to losing his breath when it came to Steve.  It had taken way way too long for him to realize that he was losing his breath because of Steve.

He didn’t like to be coddled or like to be seen as weak.  That had been his thing since....well, at least since the cave in Afghanistan.  When Nebula helped him off the ship, with the glowing flying lady in the badass suit having carried the whole thing back to earth (if he wasn’t so god damn tired, he would have been asking her a million questions), Tony tried to hold himself up.  He could walk, even if he had been starving to death and fighting off an infection for the past three weeks.  That was until, of course, Steve came running up to him, taking him from Nebula and holding Tony, one hand on his back, one hand on his chest.  Tony wished that he could look a little better for their reunion, since Steve, as usual, looked like he was carved from marble, damn him.

He chalked up his breathlessness to the change in atmosphere, and not at all Steve’s warm, broad hands holding him steady.  Looking up at Steve, Tony spoke the first words he had said in days,

“Couldn’t stop him.”

He almost expected judgement from Steve, not that he had ever judged him before.  Not everyone could defeat anything just with plucky confidence and biceps made of gold.  But Steve always managed to surprise him.

“Neither could I.”

Tony turned to Steve, not really knowing what he wanted, but knowing that if he didn’t tell Steve, he wouldn’t ever tell anyone.

“I lost the kid.”

Steve face, which was so full of concern for him, only deepened in its sadness.

“Tony we lost.”

God damn Steve Rogers and God damn his ridiculous need to care about Tony when Tony didn’t fucking deserve it, but there were more pressing matters at hand.

“Is...um-”

Pepper appeared before he could make another sound.  And the way Steve made him breathless, Pepper made him feel like he could breathe for the first time.  Opposites that Tony adored.

They cleaned him up, Bruce put an IV in him and Tony, forced by Pepper to accept that he could not, in fact, stand on his own, sat in a wheelchair and watched the faces of the vanished flick by like grains of sand in an hourglass.  Wilson, Barnes, Lang, Fury, Maria, Wanda, T’Challa, and Peter.  He barely registered what anyone was saying, as the bowl of oatmeal that Bruce had made him grew colder with every passing second.  And as the oatmeal got colder, his anger grew hotter.  He was angry, so angry at Steve for abandoning him, for not speaking to him, for choosing Barnes over him.

He sat, seething as Natasha talked to the room.  His eyes wandered, trying to find a distraction, and he alit on Thor, sitting silently away from everyone else.

“What’s wrong with him?”

“He’s pissed,” said the raccoon...wait...what?  Tony didn’t even hear the rest of the literal raccoon’s sentence.

“Honestly, until this exact second, I thought you were a Build-A-Bear.”

Tony saw Steve’s mouth twitch in a smile.  The way it made his heart jump only made him angrier.

“Tony, you fought him.”

Are you fucking joking?

“Who told you that?” he said, unable to keep his mouth shut, “I didn’t fight him.  No, he wiped my face with a planet while the Bleeker Street magician gave away the store.  That’s what happened.  There was no fight because-”

“Okay.”

Steve was trying to placate him, but Tony was done being placated by Steve.

“He’s unbeatable.”

“Did he give you any clues?  Any coordinates?  Anything?”

Fuck this.  Time to lay it all out.

“I saw this coming a few years back.  I had a vision, didn’t want to believe it, thought I was dreaming.”

“Tony,” fuck the way his name sounded when it came out of Steve’s mouth, and fuck the way he came closer to him, “I’m gonna need you to focus.”

“And I needed you.”

There it was.  Simple.  Four words.  Exactly how he felt about Steve, all out on the line.

“As in past tense,” he was starting to build up steam, even though the way Steve was looking at him threatened to break his heart, “That trumps what you need.  It’s too late buddy.  Sorry”

It was too late because how the hell do they move past this?

“You know what I need,” he said, struggling to his feet because if everyone else could stand he would too, “I need a shave.”

The bowl of oatmeal clattered to the floor, splattering on the table, just like Tony’s heart splintered when Steve tried to kill him in Siberia.

“And I believe I remember,” he said, ripping the IV out of his arm while Rhodey protested, “Telling why that otherwise that what we needed was a suit of armor around the world.  Remember that?  Whether it impacted our precious freedoms or not.  That’s what we needed.”

“Well that didn’t work out, did it?”

If it hadn’t been Steve, and Tony hadn’t been shaking, he would have decked him.

“I said we’d lose.  You said we’ll do that together too,” Tony could see the pain cross Steve’s face, and it gave him some kind of small vindication to know that he might feel just a little bit of guilt for choosing his mother’s killer over him, “And guess what Cap?  We lost.  And you weren’t there.”

Tony voice started to break.  He could feel the tears, hot and wet, in his eyes, so he let the anger take over again, because anger he could control.  He could rage and storm at Steve all day long and not have to think about that betrayal and about how Steve made his heart race and his mouth go dry and his lungs stop working.

“But that’s what we do right, our best work after the fact.  The Avengers, we’re the Avengers, not the prevengers, right?”

“Okay,” said Rhodey, holding his shoulders, “You’ve made your point, just sit down okay?”

“No, no no,” Tony said, talking over Rhodey and pointing to the badass ship-carrying lady...Carol, “You’re great by the way.  We need you, you’re new blood.”

“Tony, sit down!”

“Bunch of tired old mills.”

But that’s just it.  He hadn’t made his point.  He forced his way over to Steve, meeting his eyes with desperation in his own.  Steve had to understand what he had done to him.  That Steve had broken his heart.  How do you tell someone that your heart was shattered into a million pieces by them?  Unfixable.  Broken even to the mechanic.

“I got nothing for you, Cap.  I got no coordinates, no clues no strategies no options zero zip nada no trust...liar.”

He could feel the energy draining out of him, the venom in his words and the pain on Steve’s face sapping him of his resolve, so he did the only thing he could do.  He ripped the arc-reactor out of his chest and forced it into Steve’s hand. 

“Here, take this.  You find him, you put that on,” his legs started to give way, “And you hide.”

He collapsed onto the ground, and Steve immediately dropped too, putting his hand on Tony’s arm.  The room was spinning, but he would not be weak, not when he had finally given Steve Rogers his heart.

“I’m fine. I-”

The last thing he saw before he passed out was Steve unfairly blue eyes.

Tony woke up in darkness.  He was disoriented and wanted immediately to be away from wherever he was because there was beeping and softly glowing screens and he hated hospitals, but the person in the chair next to his bedside made him stop.  Steve was still holding the arc reactor, which was glowing faintly in his hands.

Steve looked so much older than when they had first met.  They had been coldly distant with one another, essentially only speaking to argue with each other.  And if you had asked Tony then that the very sight of Steve would essentially render him useless, he would never have believed you.

Sure, he could appreciate Steve for the fine piece of ass that he was.  But Tony had insisted, before the battle of New York, that everything special about Steve came out of a bottle.  As the years went on, Tony realized that Steve was far, far more than a bottle of chemicals.  He knew that Steve loved playing Stardew Valley on Tony’s PS4, that he refused to reach level 100 in the desert mines if it meant not feeding and giving his livestock their daily dose of affection.  He knew that Steve liked to bring Tony coffee in his lab at 2 am, when they were the only ones in the tower that were awake.  He knew that Steve smiled in his sleep sometimes, and that Tony would unconsciously mirror that smile when he saw it.

He wasn’t sure when Steve had gotten the power to take his breath away, and he knew that Steve would always have that power, no matter how angry he was at him.

A part of Tony wished that he could forget Steve and forget all the little things they knew about each other.  But even though he was angry and hurt and grieving, he still found himself smiling when Steve, dozing in the chair, smiled in his sleep.

Tony stirred a little and Steve jolted awake, looking at him with guilt and a little bit of fear in his eyes.

“I can go if-”

“No.  No.  Stay.”

Tony saw some of the tension bleed out of his shoulders.

“I’m sorry, Tony.”

“Unfortunately, you’re gonna have to be more specific, Cap.”

“For it all but...mostly for Siberia.  I shouldn’t have left you.”

“And I probably shouldn’t have tried to kill Barnes.  Even though he...yeah.”

They both looked away from each other, the weight of what they could say hanging over each of them.

After a while, they looked up in the same moment, and Steve reached out to take Tony’s hand.  Tony took it, and watched Steve’s radiant smile, holding Tony’s hand and his heart in each hand.

#stony #superhusbands #steve rogers #tony stark #avengers endgame #endgame #spoilers #writing #fanfiction #ficlet #marvel #steve #tony

[alixgracchus]

Bleeding

Dong-mae/Hee-sung, suicide attempt, M, takes place during ep 18

for @captainchoisiwon and @mastermoons cause i’m a melodramatic bitch and i will drag all of you to hell with me (i died multiple times writing this)

Hee-sung’s visit had lingered on his mind during the rest of the day. It had warmed Dong-mae in ways he haven’t expected, but yet something had felt off. He couldn’t say why, but Hee-sung had seemed not completely himself. Yet he couldn’t say why. Dong-mae kept reviewing all of his smiles, all of his words. He felt himself growing uneasy, yet he couldn’t find what was wrong. His fears were confirmed when Yujo came to see him with a grave face in the already well advanced evening.

“It’s Kim Hee-sung. He’s… He’s bleeding.”

Dong-mae felt like falling down an abyss. He staggered to the hotel despite his men’s protestations, despite the pain. He had to see that idle idiot. What, when, how? Who did this to him? When he arrived, a doctor was already there. Hina tried to stop him at the door.

“You should let the doctor work.”

“Out of my way.”

“Hee-sung has lost a lot of blood, you must-“

“Out of my way.”

Dong-mae shoved Hina aside, rage and dread burning him like the flames of Hell. There was blood everywhere. Like it suddenly started to rain red in there. The stench of alcohol was smothering. But most of all, it was the view that almost made him throw up. Hee-sung was laid down on the divan, blood everywhere on his clothes, but mostly on his arm. Said arm was outstretched on the table where the doctor was hunched down, busy stitching him up. It was a real carnage. His whole forearm was covered in stiches and burned flesh. Hee-sung was pale, he was so pale. The doctor started when he met Dong-mae’s eyes.

“I-I had to cauterize the biggest cuts, otherwise he would have bled to death. I had no choice.”

Dong-mae stayed there, standing despite the pain of his own injuries, watching him work. When the doctor was done, he bandaged Hee-sung’s arm and scurried away, leaving written instructions and three bottles of morphine. Dong-mae’s men carried him to bed, despite the blood.

“Leave us,” said Dong-mae in his calmest voice.

Once alone, he fell to his knees, crushed by the pain in his heart. Tears flowed like waterfalls. He sobbed like repenting for a sin he didn’t know he had committed. When Hee-sung stirred, he forgot how to breath.

“Don’t want to anymore,” Hee-sung slurred, looking feverish and weakly reaching for the bandages around his forearm.

Dong-mae stopped his hand, whispering softly:

“I am here, Hee-sung. Everything is alright.”

He looked more and more agitated, sweating and looking at him like a wild animal.

“I let her go, I had to so I let her go cause she loved him so I let her go then I thought I could love you so I loved you with all my soul cause I let her go but I had to be punished-“

His slurred speech was alarming Dong-mae and killing him at the same time. He held him down as he tried to get up, looking delirious.

“I love you so much but even when you were dying you only saw her, I was right there and your words were only for her and I could only look and- and- then you told me there’s only one you liked and I knew you will never love me, I was a fool such a fool- You will never love me, it’s too much I want to die, I need to die I can’t take it anymore, I don’t want to be punished anymore please- Why can’t you love me I just want you to love me but you don’t-“

Dong-mae’s diminished strength was not enough to hold Hee-sung down, so he called for his men. As they held him down, Hina gave him another shot of morphine. As he slipped into slumber again, Dong-mae wished dearly he didn’t survive that fateful day.

*

After that night, Dong-mae didn’t see Hee-sung again. It quickly became clear that the young man was avoiding him. His slurred words were haunting Dong-mae. Despite Hina’s silence, he knew. He knew Hee-sung had tried to take his own life that night. The maid had whispered to him they had to give him morphine because he kept fighting them and the doctor. He didn’t want to be saved. That certainty hurt Dong-mae the most. Hee-sung loved him. That second certainty hurt him as well.

It was all his fault. He should have known… He should have seen… He knew there had been something wrong during Hee-sung’s visit. The guilt and the what ifs stabbed him daily. It was unbearable.

“Are you two competing for the gloomiest face in Joseon or you’re just feeling sad for him?”

Dong-mae put his cup of tea down hard enough to break it and looked at Hina. The young woman looked at him from her mirror, face carefully unreadable. She went on in a casual tone:

“Everyone wonders what happened to his left hand. He doesn’t use it anymore. I guess he really damaged his arm when he tried to kill himself that night.”

“Don’t.”

“Poor man,” she sighed, undeterred, “unrequited love can be lethal indeed. Even more so when it is in fact a shared love.”

She turned to him, eyes boring into his with heavy meaning.

“Don’t you think?”

Dong-mae gripped his sword, throat tight. He wished he still had the pain of his injuries to distract him. He stood, feeling vaguely nauseous, and went for the door without a glance for Hina.

“Ah, I forgot to tell you: I think he will have company tonight.”

Her words froze him.

“I saw him go to his room with a bottle of whisky.”

Dong-mae practically ran to go upstairs. With a relieved smile, Hina went back to fixing her hair.

*

Barging in breathless, Dong-mae stopped in his tracks when he met Hee-sung’s stunned gaze. Closing in the door behind him, trying to collect himself despite his rising terror, he snarled:

“Don’t you fucking dare.”

He turned to watch Hee-sung become even paler than he already was. Visibly as anxious as Dong-mae felt, he slowly bottled up his whisky in an attempt to steel himself.

“I think… you should go,” he whispered softly.

Dong-mae searched for his gaze, but he was avoiding eye contact.

“Are you punishing me?” Dong-mae asked, hating how his voice cracked. “Are you hating me now?”

Hee-sung met his eyes this time, looking on the verge of tears. The despair in his eyes was a stab in Dong-mae’s heart.

“I could never hate you, even when I probably should have,” he answered no louder than a murmur.

Dong-mae approached him shaking, as if he was a little butcher boy again.

“You should hate me after what I’ve done to you.”

“You have done nothing to me.”

Anger suddenly flashing hot through him (at himself? At Hee-sung? At the world?), Dong-mae gripped his bandaged forearm to show him the mortal sin he had committed, but the young man cried out in pain and snatched back his arm. Dong-mae staggered back, surprised and horrified.

“I-“

Words were stuck in his throat as he watched Hee-sung press his arm against himself, whimpering softly. When he looked at him again, eyes watering, the young man was greeted by the utter sorrow haunting his gaze.

“I- I didn’t want to-“

“I know,” soothed softly Hee-sung. “I know you didn’t.”

Dong-mae slumped down on the end of the divan, looking at him with a despair that terrified the young man.

“It’s all my fault,” choked Dong-mae.

“No, it isn’t. It’s not your fault. It’s mine. Only mine, do you understand?”

“I love you and I left you to die,” he blurted out as the tears drowned him.

Hee-sung looked as if he had been punched in the gut. They sat there, looking at each other with millions of words unsaid and emotions smothering them. They didn’t know who leaned in first, who crashed his lips against the other, but now they were kissing like men finding water in a desert.

“I’m sorry,” sobbed Dong-mae when they parted. “I’m sorry.”

He choked a litany of apologies as he cried on Hee-sung’s shoulder, feeling the own tears of the young man wetting his clothes. Silence slowly came back. They stayed in each other’s arms as if they were afraid this had been a dream. Finally gathering up his courage, Dong-mae grumbled:

“What on Earth were you thinking buying that big bottle for yourself?”

“I didn’t buy it,” answered Hee-sung in a tired voice, swallowing back a yawn, “Hina Kudo offered it to me.”

Pulling back from his embrace, the other said, frowning:

“What do you mean?”

“When I went back she got out this bottle and told me it was on the house. I wasn’t going to say no to free whisky,” he shrugged.

Realization suddenly dawned on Dong-mae as he muttered:

“That little-“

He shook his head with a fond smile and secretly thanked her.

“What’s the matter?”

Dong-mae gently caressed Hee-sung’s cheek and whispered with a sincere smile:

“Nothing. It’s alright.”

It was. It will. He promised himself he would do anything for that to happen.

#mr sunshine #mine mr sunshine #fanfiction

[giantroboticplatypusbutt218]

Unfortunate Soulmarks

Rating: Explicit

Chapters: (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6)

Content Warnings: Violence, Injuries, Swearing, Explicit Sexual Content. (Explicit chapters will be posted to Ao3)

Summary: Most people want to find their soulmate, as who wouldn’t want to meet the person who will change their life for the better? The answer to that is Perry, who believes it will be nearly impossible to find his soulmate. No matter how many people assure him he’ll find them, he’s not too sure he will, nor is he sure he wants to. And he’s not the only one who doesn’t want to find his soulmate. As Perry later learns, Heinz Doofenshmirtz doesn’t want to find his soulmate either, for reasons he won’t clarify.

Chapter 3

Word Count: 2973

Content Warnings: Violence

Summary: Much to his confusion, Perry’s heart breaks after learning something from Heinz that he shouldn’t care about, and he’s willing to bang on Heinz’s apartment door late into the night to find answers. The answers he receives from him don’t make him very happy. 

God, it was so fucking hot here. And dry. And Doofenshmirtz would not shut up about how he could shut up if he wanted to. For once Perry was annoyed at his tendency to ramble on, mostly because he was now stuck with him for hours as they made their way through the desert. His constant talking wasn’t normally a problem since they wouldn’t spend extended periods together without some sort of battle quieting him, but it was a problem now.

Perry knew most people felt uncomfortable being around others without saying anything. Obviously, he had no problem with it. Doofenshmirtz on the other hand… was noticeably fidgety when he ran out of things to say. The few times he finally closed his mouth and left Perry to his own thoughts, Perry could see him straining to think of something to talk about. He kind of wished Doofenshmirtz would learn to appreciate a comforting silence. Just let himself listen to the ambiance of his surroundings and his own thoughts.

It was quite comforting at times to just observe. Heck… even though he wouldn’t talk to Doofenshmirtz anytime in the future, he was still able to get his thoughts across through facial expressions and gestures alone. Maybe Doofenshmirtz would eventually learn to appreciate silence instead of continuing to ramble like he was doing right now.

Perry let out a silent, half-hearted laugh to himself, thinking that maybe one of the ways he positively impacts Doofenshmirtz’s life was by teaching him to just be quiet. You know, assuming they are soulmates. Which… as terrible as it sounds… Perry had come to accept as a fact. It wasn’t like he planned on spending much time with anyone else, and it was highly unlikely he’d find another person without a soulmark.

Besides… being his nemesis wasn’t too bad. It was fun fighting him sometimes. Sure they were enemies, and the whole “completing each other’s lives” was more about just being a huge part of each other’s day than being satisfied with each other’s company. But still… it was better than knowing that the likelihood of finding his soulmate was slim to none due to his greeting mark. Having Doofenshmirtz as his soulmate was… fine. It was at least better than not knowing who his soulmate was at all.

“I was sure my arm would grow back, but it never did.”

Interrupted from is thoughts, Perry swung his head over to Heinz, who gave his left arm a few taps. He heard a couple metallic clangs from that, and suddenly felt a wave of dizziness.

“See? Pure Titanium. It’s a fact.”

Heinz… lost his arm at one point. He… What if…?

Perry tapped on Heinz’s shoulder, getting his attention as they continued walking together.

“Do you need something Perry the Platypus?”

God, why did he have to say that? It wasn’t his whole soulmark again, but it was still an unpleasant reminder.

Perry tapped his arm where his soulmark is, and pointed to Heinz’s left arm.

“Huh? Was my soulmark on this arm?”

A slow nod.

“Oh… erm, no.”

That was a little relieving.

“It was actually on my right one.”

‘WHAT?!’

“I lost my right arm under a boulder a little into high school. It’s a good thing I already built my left arm by then because it would’ve been a nightmare if I hadn’t. Of course, my left arm was lost and replaced way before my right one, so it’s not like it was a nick of time sort of thing.”

Doofenshmirtz… had… a soulmark…

His arms weren’t blank! They were fake! And it was obvious why he wouldn’t have built his right arm with his soulmark across it, he hated his soulmark! And he hated his soulmate! His soulmate who… wasn’t him…

Perry stared blankly forward, continuing to walk with Doofenshmirtz as he started ranting about something else.

He told himself a million times that Doofenshmirtz wasn’t his soulmate… but obviously, he didn’t listen. Instead, he let himself believe he was. And why? He didn’t want a soulmate! He would be fine without one! But…

No. He didn’t need one. His soulmate would be impossible to find anyway. He didn’t talk to anyone he wasn’t close to, and he hated trying to make new friends. Perry wasn’t going to find his soulmate, and he just had to deal with it.

…

But still…

[1:52 AM]

[2:10 AM]

[2:19 AM]

[2:25 AM]

[2:28 AM]

Perry shot out of bed with a groan, hastily putting on his jacket and grabbing his fedora. If he couldn’t fall asleep, he was at least going to move around instead of continuing to lay in bed for hours. Before his clock could read 2:30 AM, he was out of the house and storming down the sidewalk.

This wasn’t right. Doofenshmirtz had to be his soulmate! He HAD to be! Right? Who else could it be?! Perry spent so much time with him! And they changed each other’s lives so much! So if they weren’t, then who the hell was?! And why the hell did Doofenshmirtz not want to meet them?! Why did some random asshole that Doofenshmirtz didn’t even want to meet get to be his soulmate but not him!? It made no sense!

Letting out a scream, Perry stomped ahead faster.

But he didn’t want to be Doofenshmirtz’s soulmate! So why the hell did it piss him off so much that he wasn’t?! This worked out fine! So! Why! Was! He! Still! UPSET!?

Perry looked upward, seeing that he was at the entrance of Doofenshmirtz Evil Incorporated. It only pissed him off more that the jingle still played in his head despite how angry he was.

He was going to get answers. He wanted- He needed to know what this other asshole was going to say to him. What Doofenshmirtz’s soulmate was going to say that not only made them his soulmate, but his soulmate that he didn’t even want.

After a torturous elevator ride up, Perry angrily stormed up to his door, giving it a few loud knocks.

No answer.

He knocked more, his knuckles aching.

Behind the door, he could hear Doofenshmirtz say something he couldn’t understand too well.

Maybe because it was muffled by the door. Maybe because it was in German. Maybe because Perry was so tired. Either way, he didn’t care what he said. He wanted answers.

The door swung open.

“Perry the Platypus? What the- Why are you here? It’s so late!”

Perry harshly ran his fingers across the words of his soulmark, then pointed to Doofenshmirtz’s right arm.

“W...What? Are you… asking what my soulmark said?”

With a firm nod, he pointed again.

“For your information, I don’t have to tell you anything. It’s very private!”

The growl Perry let out caused Doofenshmirtz to flinch. He pointed straight at his face and forcefully grabbed his own arm in the same way Doofenshmirtz did when he looked at his soulmark without permission.

“Okay. So I looked at your soulmark against your will. But I’m evil and you’re not. Besides, I’ve seen the way you stare at my arms whenever they’re not covered. It’s not like you’re completely innocent either.”

Perry huffed and pointed at Doofenshmirtz’s arm again.

“No! You woke me up at three in the morning expecting me to tell you what my soulmark said, even though I already told you that I didn’t like talking about it! I’m. Not. Telling. You.”

Perry stomped his foot and growled again. This time, Heinz didn’t flinch.

“Why do you care so much anyway! It’s not like it affects you at all.”

Crossing his arms, Perry turned around, putting his back to Doofenshmirtz.

It was quiet for a moment, then he heard an annoyed half laugh.

“You thought I didn’t have a soulmark, didn’t you? You kept staring at my arms because you thought you were my soulmate. That’s why you’re angry. Because you’re jealous you’re not.”

Screaming, Perry turned on his heel and threw a punch, his fist impacting the wall next to Doofenshmirtz’s face with a loud thud. Immediately, Perry reeled back with pain, whining as he held his fist.

“Stop being so childish, Perry the Platypus. Honestly, it’s better that you’re not my soulmate.” Perry could see him shuddering in disgust like he did last time he thought about his soulmark. “Trust me on this one. You don’t want that.”

Perry straightened himself up and looked away, crossing his arms again.

“What’s the matter? Isn’t it better that I’m not your soulmate? I’m your nemesis! We fight each other! Is that really who you wanted your soulmate to be? Someone you’re required to stop on a semi-daily basis?”

No response.

“Your soulmate could be a cool friend that makes every day special! Or a long lost relative that you get to have fun learning about! Or the love of your life who showers you in kisses whenever they can! Don’t you get that?!”

Perry remained silent, shutting his eyes.

“Is it because you have a greeting mark? Is that why? Because you can’t be sure immediately who your soulmate is?”

A shaky breath passed his lips.

Doofenshmirtz paused for a moment.

“...You know what your problem is? You’re lazy. You were so willing to accept that your freaking nemesis of all people was your soulmate because if they were anyone else, that meant you’d actually have to try to find them. You’d have to spend time with people who say your soulmark to find out if they were the person to change your life. And you can’t do that, now can you? Because it takes work. Because it means you wouldn’t be able to sit back and let fate happen to you like everyone else.”

Perry squeezed his eyes more tightly shut.

“Well guess what? Some people have it rougher than others. And they can either mope around accepting that their life sucks, or fight to make it better.”

Reluctantly, Perry slowly turned his head to Doofenshmirtz, face still contorted with anger… and a bit of sorrow.

“I got a soulmark that sucks, but did I just accept that my soulmate was going to be bad and do nothing about it? No! I decided to make sure I’d never meet them and started looking for someone who was what I want in a soulmate. I’ll find the love of my life, and they’re not going to be the person who says my soulmark. I decided to work hard to have the life I want, so why can’t you? You just have to work hard and spend some time with everyone who says your soulmark.”

With a sigh, Perry turned and started walking to the elevator.

“I hope you learned a few things! And I hope one of those things is not to bother your nemesis at three in the morning!”

Getting into the elevator and letting the doors slide shut behind him, Perry could barely make out Doofenshmirtz calling out, ‘curse you, Perry the Platypus,” as the elevator began its descent.

Perry was so tired.

He just needed to go home, get some rest, and hopefully figure things out tomorrow.

...

Twelve hours later, and he hadn’t made any progress.

At least, it felt like he didn’t make any progress.

Doofenshmirtz happened to not be up to anything today, which Perry was grateful for. He didn’t exactly want to see him after what happened last night…

It also gave him some time to think. Some time to sit under the oak tree and try to figure out his feelings. Emphasis on “try.”

The advice Doofenshmirtz gave him… it felt right… but at the same time… it felt… off.

Perry had to admit that Doofenshmirtz was right when he said he didn’t want to spend time with people to figure out if they were his soulmate. The only reason he thought Doofenshmirtz was his soulmate was because he believed he wouldn’t speak to his soulmate after meeting them so they wouldn’t have a soulmark. Because he’d never become friendly enough to feel comfortable talking to them. Because he accepted it would be near impossible to find them and therefore he never would. So… when Doofenshmirtz said he needed to spend more time with people to find out if they were his soulmate, he was absolutely correct. If Perry wanted his soulmate, which admittedly, he did, then he’d have to go out and find them.

But at the same time… how Doofenshmirtz was handling his soulmate seemed wrong. He was going to straight up avoid them? Was whatever he was going to first hear from them that bad? Like he admitted a long while ago, soulmates who don’t like each other are rare to non-existent. So… what exactly about his soulmark made the thought of being with his soulmate so repulsive? He just accepted that his soulmate would be terrible instead of thinking about how unlikely that was and still trying to look for them despite how bad it sounded. A bit hypocritical, in Perry’s opinion.

Still… the advice he gave seemed pretty reasonable. Except for the fact that there was no way he could possibly spend time with all the people who have spoken his soulmark.

Suddenly, Perry jumped in surprise, noticing that Ferb was standing next to him.

“Hey there, Ferb.”

Perry ruffled his hair fondly.

“You need something?”

He took a step closer, patting Perry’s shoulder.

Perry frowned.

“Oh, you’re worried about me thinking about my soulmate too?” He huffed. “Let me guess, ‘you’ll find them eventually,’ right?”

Ferb took a step back and blinked.

Perry felt a sharp pain in his stomach.

“Sorry. You don’t deserve that…” He looked away, eyes locked on a boring patch of grass. “I know everyone just wants to see me feel better, but… it’s not that easy. Everything may have worked out just fine for everyone else, but saying the same will happen to me just… isn’t true.”

After a moment of silence, Ferb stepped over and sat next to Perry under the tree.

“Don’t let me sour your mood. You can go have fun if you want, I’ll be fine over here.”

Ferb didn’t react, continuing to sit under the oak tree.

“You don’t have to worry about making me feel better. I’ll lighten up eventually.”

“...”

Perry faintly smiled.

“You’re a good kid. You know that?”

Relaxing against the trunk of the tree, Perry closed his eyes.

“Unlike everyone else… I won’t know who my soulmate is immediately after meeting them. They’ll say the same thing many other people have also said to me, and whatever is on their arm, it’ll be something I won’t say to them until I’ve known them for a long time.”

He let out a half laugh.

“It kinda makes me wish I could just look at people’s soulmarks and say theirs after they say mine, as if forcing it would mean I get to meet them faster…”

Then, he opened his eyes, staring into the grass.

“But, that’s not how it works. If I want to meet my soulmate, I’ll have to spend time with everyone who greets me with my soulmark, and everyone who has greeted me with my soulmark. It’ll take a lot of work… but I’ll have to…”

Perry fell silent, thinking about all the people he’d have to find again. Thinking about all the people he’d have to get to know. Thinking about all the times he’d have to open up to people so he can learn if they’re perfect for each other.

“Perhaps it would make more sense to focus on those who are the most likely to be your soulmate rather than every person who’s ever spoken your soulmark.”

…

Why didn’t he think about that sooner? Of course he didn’t have to spend time with literally everyone who’s said his soulmark! What were the odds of a shelf stocker in Alaska or an elderly woman in Montana turning out to be his soulmate? He was so focused on how many people have said his soulmark, that he didn’t think about how little of a chance most of them had at actually being his soulmate! Soulmates were hardly ever just random people who happened to bump into each other, they were usually people who lived close by each other and would probably already hang out even if they weren’t soulmates!

Keeping all that in mind… Perry could narrow the list of potential soulmates down to less than ten people! Sure, he’d still have to put in the effort to hang out with them and learn if they were meant to complete each other, but it’s a lot more manageable now!

Perry smiled brightly, ruffling Ferb’s hair with more enthusiasm this time.

“You’re a little lifesaver, you know that?”

Ferb smiled as well.

“Thanks for the advice. I feel a lot better now.”

Standing from his spot under the tree, Ferb gave Perry a thumbs up and made his way back into the house.

The smile on Perry’s face remained for a while... until he remembered what happened last night. How he learned that Doofenshmirtz definitely wasn’t his soulmate.

But… that didn’t matter. He had a short list of other people he could get to know and possibly end up being soulmates with. And none of the people on that list were his enemy. In fact, a couple of them were his allies.

Finally, Perry stood up, dusting off his pants and making his way into the house.

Maybe he should start with Agent F. She seemed like someone who was still looking for her soulmate. If not, there were still … seven other people that Perry was pretty sure his soulmate could be!

Well, time to send her an email asking if she’d like to chat.

#Perryshmirtz #Well... time to see if this shows up in the tags. #I'm going to wait a few minutes to do the links so see if that helps but it probably won't. #The reason my fics aren't showing up in the tags might have something to do with my blog being explicit. #Either that or Tumblr is bugging up. Or both. #Perry the Platypus #Perry the Human #Heinz Doofenshmirtz #Ferb Fletcher #My Fanfiction

[thesinglesjukebox]

JULIA HOLTER - I SHALL LOVE 2 [7.17] And we shall reciproc8.

Joshua Minsoo Kim: Nearly a decade ago, Julia Holter released an album of quotidian but surprisingly intimate field recordings, one of which was an interpretation of a score by Michael Pisarov--vthe greatest composer of the 21st century, and someone who Holter studied under while attending CalArts. While she has collaborated with him on his records, Holter has never recorded music that felt obviously aligned with the post-Cagean philosophy and aesthetics of the Wandelweiser collective. She has, however, elucidated the importance of Pisaro's lessons and experimental music workshops in providing a space for "listening and focus." Holter described hber upcoming album, Aviary, as a reflection on "how one responds to [the cacophony they experience daily] as a person -- how one behaves, how one looks for love, for solace." This song accomplishes exactly that through language reminiscent of classical texts and a delivery that demands listeners to consider its utility. The song is simply prefaced: "That is all, that is all. There is nothing else." A matter-of-fact decree that renders the following statement as irrefutable truth: "I am in love." Appropriately, the song spends most of its runtime in a calming trance-like meditation. There's a thoughtfulness to the arrangement -- the soft bed of synth pads, the otherworldly vocoder harmony, the soothing string section -- and it helps to capture the subtle flutter and comforting security of finding a partner. The song eventually swells into a beautiful wall of noise that finds the titular line transforming in meaning and tone. "In all the humans there is something true/But do the angels say, do the angels say/I shall love?" she sings. What begins as an elevation of self beyond that of celestial beings becomes a therapeutic mantra of self-assurance -- not "I shall love?" but "I shall love." I'm drawn to Holter's music because her compositions and voice are always conduits for intentional listening. The result is deep contemplation, an invitation for listeners to see how the material used can lead to a better understanding of the material itself, or even one's self. More than simple platitudes, "I Shall Love 2" calls for people to truly understand that they deserve love, even if it requires constant reminding. She models how to do just that, but gives another piece of sound advice: "Who cares what people say." [7]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: Julia Holter's music often feels like it holds you at a distance, intentionally breaking from expectations and forms to artificialize its sound. On "I Shall Love 2," she takes a simple concept -- the overwhelming and universal nature of love -- and treats it in a way that almost feels like an alien's view of the concept, talking and singing through these questions and declarations of love as if it the first time she is handling them. But as the baroque-ish instrumentation of "I Shall Love 2" builds from a simple, almost-childlike ambient soundscape to a full, crashing chant of a song, Holter's inhuman facade begins to melt away, leaving the song feeling like a personal revelation of a sort. [7]

Kat Stevens: I've got a lot of admiration for Julia's queasy strings but, with one or two exceptions, I've always found her songs hard to love. "I Shall Love 2" doesn't have the immediate menace of "Horns Surrounding Me" or the feeling of stumbling around a maze where everyone is dressed as a Versailles courtier of "Feel You." What it does conjure up is this image: a woman has escaped to a secluded forest glade for some peace and quiet, when a bird sets alight on her shoulder to tweet a little. Fine, she says. You can stay. But then a steady stream of bunnies and baby deer and pixies arrive to bother her with flowers and schmaltz until the woman finally cracks, crams her hands over her ears and tells them all to either shut up or fuck off. I sympathise, Julia, but I ain't getting involved with your Bambi beef. [6]

Alfred Soto: As a sonic experience, "I Shall Love 2" is a trip: a string arrangement accumulating power, cello, backup vocals shouting from a mountain peak to the heavens. I wish Julia Holter had chosen a less discreet vocal approach in the first minute, but she knows her track has surprises. [7]

Tim de Reuse: Delightfully off-kilter, a little out of tune, unpredictable -- It's delighful to see an ocean of reverb put to use actually meshing together points of interest rather than filling space in its own right! A chant as direct like "I Shall Love" just wouldn't have worked under a totally clean delivery; here, the finale achieves cathartic impact through the sweeping force of an awkward clutter. [7]

Josh Love: Holter is a brilliant pop composer and it's great to have the focus be on her music again after she bravely went public last year with the abuse she suffered while dating former Real Estate guitarist Matthew Mondanile. Admittedly, it's hard not to hear elliptical lines like "I'm in love / What can I do...Who cares what people say?" without reflecting on Holter's personal traumas but in the end what buoys this song are its wonderfully unorthodox orchestral melodies and the Velvet Underground-esque sense of spiritual deliverance embedded in the closing refrain, "I shall love." [7]

Vikram Joseph: The magical realist dreamscapes of Julia Holter's songs are always compellingly strange. "I Shall Love 2" feels like waking up on a tropical shore, surrounded by fallen fruit and parakeets, but with the colour of the sky just odd enough to make you wonder if you might, in fact, still be dreaming. It's a fitting space for a love song, delivered without irony or trepidation; maybe this is what it's meant to feel like? Julia, dazed and blinded by the sun, wonders "what do the angels say?" and is answered by a celestial chorus; the song builds to a Deserter's Songs-ish climax of swirling, entwining vocal parts, strings and brass, strands of the entire galaxy uniting in imperfect synchrony to celebrate her newfound love. I mean, sorry Julia, there's no way this isn't a dream. [8]

Ramzi Awn: Listening to "I Shall Love 2" is a bit like discovering a new painting. Julia Holter pairs humor with sincerity in a dizzying arrangement that employs instruments as brushstrokes on a fresh canvas, ripe with possibility. Holter plays with the idea of voice as conductor, threading the different elements together with short, deliberate phrases and just the right timing. [7]

Edward Okulicz: After listening to this on a loop, I really enjoy the "that is all, that is all" spoken intro as an outro before the song repeats. In fact, I might just edit the audio to make that change. Otherwise, "I Shall Love 2" is so meticulously arranged that I feel like there's something wrong with me that it can't hold my attention the whole of its running time, but the layering of vocals and strings -- which are lovely but less involving by themselves at first -- in the second half is impressive. [6]

Ryo Miyauchi: Julia Holter's left looking pale upon facing the song's central epiphany, and what really pushes "I Shall Love 2" is her follow-up question: "what do I do?" It peels back how truly daunting it can be to get hit by the feeling when you least expect it, and how you're never prepared to respond to love's arrival. The creaking music, too, sighs and crashes on its knees as powerless as Holter. The final swirling of voices that declare her breakthrough to choose love despite its known terror, then, echoes with bravery. [7]

Cédric Le Merrer: They sound like falling in love, these thousand voices pulling and pushing chaotically towards the same direction. The stomach dwelling butterflies. The social pressure of a million amatonormative songs and films and friends. Your feelings going so much faster than your thoughts. Your will drowned out. Your self tractor beamed like a cow by a flying saucer. [8]

Rebecca A. Gowns: One layer isn't enough, but as the song builds, it becomes more and more satisfying, like piling on thin sheets of butter and baking it until it becomes a croissant. What seems thin and threadbare at the beginning becomes transcendent. (Again, like a fresh croissant.) [9]

[Read, comment and vote on The Singles Jukebox ]

#julia holter #music #new music #music writing #music review

[handjobprince]

Blonde- Frank Ocean IMOW

A track-by-track, emotion-based, “In My Own Words” review of Blonde by Frank Ocean

Although Blonde came out in 2016, the album didn’t resonate with me until the summer of 2017. I have a tendency to delay listening to albums until I feel like the “time is right”. I don’t ever force music on myself, i find that it ruins how the album actually sounds because of my current taste in music. Tastes evolve daily, as does music. 

Summer 2017 was a turbulent time for me. Still reeling from a breakup, I desperately lived from each blunt to the next. Drowning my sorrows in a lookout point in my town, alone, high. With every inhale and exhale, I temporarily forgot about the pain I endured that year. Blonde helped me heal, in a way. Although I didn’t truly recover until months later, Blonde was my technical “breakup album”. Putting all my frustrations from my ex into Frank’s dreamy, indie-r&b album. It was not until later that this album would shift its meaning for me.

Nikes- The lead single for this album provides a confusing memory for me. Being the first song released from this album, I was excited to finally get new Frank. I waited fucking years. Pressing play, I instantly thought I downloaded some shit ripoff of the song, being illegally downloading was all I did back in the day. Downloading different audio files all had the same end result. This song, however, grew on me. “I’m not him, but I mean something to you” hit me. Believing my ex left me for another person, this resonated with me. This was one of the many “Post-Work Crying On the Way Home I Need a Fucking Blunt” from that summer. One of Frank’s best qualities is the ability to switch from his soothing voice to laying down a fucking bar or two. He shows that talent well at the end of Nikes. Like many songs in this album, he is able to slowly transform a song into his own. Each song is like an adventure. 

Ivy- The original memory of this song is almost gone for me now. Fleeting is a sad memory of me trying to figure it all out. What went wrong. What went right, if at all. Now, it reminds me of my current partner. My ex and I never loved each other, although Summer 2017 Robert begged to differ. I know what love is now. My boyfriend provides that. “I thought that I was dreaming, when you said you loved me”. Frank’s vocals are unmatched in this song. No matter how hard I try to scream the end of this song, Frank sings it harder. 

Pink & White- BEYONCE BACK UP VOCALS  BEYONCE BACK UP VOCALS BEYONCE BACK UP VOCALS BEYONCE BACK UP VOCALS BEYONCE BACK UP VOCALS BEYONCE BACK UP VOCALS  BEYONCE BACK UP VOCALS BEYONCE BACK UP VOCALS BEYONCE BACK UP VOCALS BEYONCE BACK UP VOCALS BEYONCE BACK UP VOCALS --> THATS ALL YOU NEED TO KNOW

Be Yourself- Reminds me of my own mother

Solo- This song is very, rough around the edges. He raps it beautifully, but it takes its time. The jarring start to this song catches you off guard, he just quick starts it. Already states the name of the song in the first 15 seconds. But he beautifully transforms it into not just some rap/r&b song, but personally Frank. Dreamy, elusive. 

Skyline To- The lookout point in my town is accustomed to this song. I would always play this during a sunset while I was there. “This is joy, This is Summer”. Sums up how this song feels for me. Summer, the wind blowing the grass and leaves in the trees around me. I feel closer to God, the energies around me. Skyline Dr. is a street that is around the lookout point, as well as a street in the town my boyfriend used to live in. We would play this album almost every weekend together. It’s a good song to Feel 

Self Control- Even though this is one of the most powerful songs on the album, I didn’t resonate with it in the summer. I was so preoccupied by the songs on the B-side of the record that this was a afterthought. Dumb me. A few friends had the lucky opportunity to see Frank at Governor’s Ball in 2017. One of the friends posted how excited she was to listen to this song in particular. That post made me fall in love with this song. Appreciate it. I hope this makes you do the same. The 3:15 mark is all you need to know. It’s fucking stellar.

Good Guy- The gayest song on this album. Literally, it’s about him meeting a man. It’s short, sweet, but makes me feel proud. If Frank is gay, then fuck so am I. 

Nights- The song most people on Twitter enjoy. I am also “most people on Twitter”. This was the SONG of the summer for me, Blonde aside. It has everything. Fresh beat, fresh bar, and A FUCKING fresh transition. Best transition in a song, ever. You can’t compete. I still get goosebumps. This song exudes sex for me. Describes how an orgasm feels. A waterfall of emotions. I Know Every Line so I can’t post a lyric because it would be the entire song. Fuck. fuck. Fuck. The bass. I love bass. But, this bass after the transition made me rethink my entire life. This song is religion. It is everything my summer last year embodied. 

Solo (Reprise)- ANDRE 3000 ANDRE 3000 ANDRE 3000 I still can’t believe that Frank got that shit. I know they friends but, hot damn. Andre 3000 coming in with that “AYYEE”  is fucking wild. I wish I could rap this entire thing. 

Pretty Sweet- It’s an afterthought for me, honestly. I know I can’t disrespect Frank like that, but due to the fact that the songs that come after that impacted me that much. I skip every time

Facebook Story- skip, although relatable facebook story because I was the girl at one point in time

Close Story- This song is, for me, quintessential “Driving In Your Car” song. This and “30 Hours - Kanye West” define a road trip for me. I somehow feel as if I’m in a convertible car, in some desert, driving and care free. Maybe that video of SZA doing exactly that affected me, but still.  

White Ferrari- This was the song I first cried to from this album. A milestone for any Frank song. I remember leaving my night class freshman year, walking home. Seeing the sunset, being sad for whatever reason. Maybe I was homesick, maybe I felt like I wasn’t fitting in at college. It still makes me feel that way, that emotion that I felt. I feel the sting, still. 

Seigfried- This song was the one that affected me the most on the “Post-Work Crying On the Way Home I Need a Fucking Blunt” drives. I memorized every word. I would play this song straight from the mall, until it ended right before I passed the town square. I really fucking thought I sounded like Frank when I sang this. It’s one of the most powerful, raw, authentic songs on the album. He opens up, the beat itself is vulnerable. Letting you see this, side of him. I instantly have this vision of going to my apartment that summer. A single. All Christmas lights on, no clothes on. I felt liberated, but also felt so sad. The weed didn’t help. This song helped in ways I didn’t think it would. “This is not my life, It’s just a fond farewell to a friend” “I’d do anything for you, in the dark”. That line was my crying call. I would do anything to get my ex back. Now, it means nothing. I learned I can’t defend the demons of other people. 

Godspeed- Holy god damn. This song brings me to when my suitemate hooked up this song to his speaker and played it for the rest of us when it first released. My heart SUNK. He looked at me with this “yeah i know, right?”. I will always love you frank??? Damn. 

Future Free- This song was added after the while of the album being added. So, it didn’t resonate at all. It’s still a rad song. 

This album now reminds me of intimacy, love, and caring. All the negative emotions have been replaced. Frank’s best work to date, and with lack of tour dates to accompany this beautiful album, it makes me want more. 

#frank ocean #blonde #album review