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#so yeah after that. geography was good i finished with half an hour left which was like so impressive for me
deanssexplorations · 2 years
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Married Female Couple
There are bucket list items I’ve had for years, some of which I have been lucky enough to achieve, like my threesome with two sisters, or more recently having sex with a man (more on that in a future blog post). Other bucket list items I know perfectly well I will likely never achieve, like the one about having a mother/daughter threesome. 
Hey, a man can fantasize!
And then there are bucket list items that have rattled around in the back of my head but which I’ve never really articulated to myself or to anyone else. Every so often one of them will creep up on me and I say to myself, “oh, yeah, I guess I’ve been wanting to do that pretty much my whole life.” When I’m fortunate enough to have one of those actually come to life I treasure it greatly.
A bucket list item that fits into this category is having sex with a lesbian couple. I came tantalizingly close a long time ago, but I let that opportunity slip through the cracks, and I haven’t had an opportunity present itself to me since, but I also have not really looked all that hard for one. For one thing, if it really is a lesbian couple, there’s a pretty good chance they wouldn’t want to have anything to do with me. For obvious reasons. For another, the places I look for connections are generally full of heteronormative types. So this particular fantasy has been left on the back shelf to gather mothballs.
Until the other week.
It started when I checked my OK Cupid profile one day. I get VERY few connections on that particular app (okay, in fairness: I actually get very few connections on ANY app, but I’m patient and perseverant and on those blue-moon occasions when I do meet someone like L on Tinder or A on Hinge or Bella on Feeld, connections that prove to be meaningful, sexy, and lasting, well, that then makes it worth all the effort) but this particular day there was a lovely note from a woman named Natalia who told me that she had lost her virginity to a boy named Dean (nice), that she read one of my blog entries and would be thinking of it when she drifted off to sexy dreams, and that as she was reading my profile to her wife, she (the wife) encouraged Natalia to reach out to me, and introduce herself.
[record scratch]
Wait a minute. Wife?  Now that got my attention!
Natalia finished by quoting a line she found particularly sexy from my entry - my tendency to emit loud, gutteral vocalizations when I come - and told me she would love to chat more if I was interested. I responded and we developed an instant connection, bonding over music, politics, TV shows, and loud orgasms. She told me about her marriage; both she and her wife Rena are bisexual, and both had had long-term relationships with men (including being married to men) previous to their own marriage. And while Natalia had had a significant relationship with a woman, this was both of their first time being married to someone of their own gender. 
Okay, so maybe not exactly a lesbian couple, but hey - two women married to each other. This was pretty cool!
Natalia set up a thread with her, me, and Rena and the three of us exchanged fun, flirty messages, images, and voice memos. They live deep in the East Bay about an hour and a half’s drive from me, so it was clear that geography wasn’t going to be our friend, but nonetheless all three of us were motivated to make something happen so we started looking for opportunities to do so.
An opportunity presented itself when I told them I would be attending a lifestyle mixer at a winery in the East Bay in a few weeks, and they agreed to meet me there. I did a little research and secured a nearby hotel for some sexy after-mixer time. The intensity of our texting picked up a bit as the three of our excitement increased. This was going to be fun!
The day of the mixer arrived, and I made my way to the winery. A number of my friends regularly attend this particular mixer, and I exchanged pleasantries with the host (also a friend of mine) as he checked my name off the list and informed me my lovely lady friends had already arrived.
I quickly spotted Natalia and Rena near the bar chatting with a few other couples. I gave them each a huge hug hello, and was greeted with warm smiles in return. 
We hung out at the establishment for a good 45 minutes or so, chatting and flirting. I caught up with the six or seven friends or mine there, and introduced them to Natalia and Rena. But we knew the headline of the evening was ahead of us and we were eager to get to it, so we finished our drinks, said our goodbyes, and made our way to the hotel. 
Checking in was fun. The clerk didn’t bat an eye as her processed these two women and one man who were all about to share a room together. In fact, he eased right into the easy banter we had been enjoying all evening, as if he had been there all along. Later Natalia and Rena commented that it had to be clear what the three of us were doing and I agreed. But this was clearly not the clerk’s first rodeo and he handled it like a pro.
Natalia and Rena’s dynamic is that they are very happy in their marriage, and have a very fulfilling sex life with each other. But they are in agreement that they would like to have more cock in their lives. They are bisexual after all (see above re: not technically fulfilling the lesbian bucket list item but saying fuck it and taking credit anyway). So seven or eight months ago they opened their marriage and have been seeking out men for connection and sexual play. Not women, incidentally; they both feel they have plenty of pussy in their lives.
They mostly date separately, but every now and again when one of them meets someone they think they would both enjoy getting to know they will set up a three-way date. They call these lucky guys their “together men.” And I was honored to be one.
And oh, by the way, they are absolutely killing it. It seems that every day they are each going on separate dates, or have a fun evening planned with a together man. I am constantly telling them they are getting more cock than I’m getting pussy. And that’s saying something.
Anyway, the hotel was fine, and the room was perfectly lovely. Not the Four Seasons but not a Motel 6 either. Good thing because we didn’t intend to keep the light on (oh, my, did I really just go there?).  We settled in: I pulled out my sex kit including cock ring, lube, and all that, while they unzipped their suitcases. Their plan was to spend the night as they happened to have some meetings in the city in the morning and this would be more convenient for them.
I started by kissing Natalia, while Rena caressed the two of us. We had already established that it was only fair for Natalia’s pussy to be the first to receive my cock, since she was the one that found me after all. So I figured that rule could be extended to kissing as well. That’s generally how they roll with their together men.
This not being my first threesome with two women, I fell into my practice of splitting my attention as evenly as I could between them. Which was not hard for me to do; not only did I not want anyone feeling left out, but for purely selfish reasons I wanted to experience both of them equally! 
Clothes started coming off, kissing turned into playing with tits and cocks (well, cock), and before too long I was going down on them. Again, Natalia got first dibs, but I had just as much fun when it was Rena’s turn. Cunnilingus turned into blow jobs and fucking, which we did from a number of positions starting with standard missionary then my (signature) fucking on the edge of the bed with me standing on the floor, and even some doggy style. And while I was fucking one of them, she would play with the other, be it kissing, playing with her tits, or other stroking/fondling.  
One thing that was so evident to me was how the infusion of the male dynamic enhanced the energy between the two of them. True, I’d never seen just the two of them having sex together (if you don’t count some of the sexy videos they sent me), but we had discussed the topic and it was clear when I witnessed it with my own eyes. 
Their female-female sexual energy felt softer, warmer, and fuzzier. They were tender with each other, more inclined to stroke and cuddle, and everything moved at a gentler pace. But my (male) energy was more directed, focused, and had an agenda. It was like a jolt of electricity had been added to the mix, and everything was amped up a level. 
I could tell that they were very much turned on by this infusion of energy, and they responded to it. I felt free to take charge when necessary, orchestrated the flow, moved them around on the bed, and - well - just generally inserted my hard cock where I felt like it needed to be.
I could tell how this brought an extra spark to the sex - not just between the three of us, but also between the two of them. I saw not only how lovely the two of them were together - because they really were tender, and warm, and loving, and fun - but why they loved bringing men into the mix. The sex was completely different. Not better or worse, but harder-edged, more intense. And I can see how they had fun with that.
We had a lovely evening. We did a little of everything, with all sexual organs being kissed and sucked and fucked. And we enjoyed both our male on female and female on female play. I had a great time, and I know they did as well. Oh, and guess what? We ended it (or at least I ended it) with a signature loud, gutteral orgasm. I am pretty sure that not only did I go over the edge with that one but my vocalizations set the ladies off as well. So in a way, we came full circle on that front!
But as I mentioned before, geography isn’t our friend. And while we haven’t seen each other in person since that day, we continue our sexy texting, sharing stories about hot flames and conquests, both with their individual guys and their together men. And about my own parties and friends and sexploits.
So yes, technically I suppose this wasn’t the bucket list item that I didn’t realize I had been waiting for. But it was darn close. And I’m taking credit for it anyway. That’s my story and I’m sticking with it. It was two women who are married to each other, after all. That’s pretty fucking cool in my book.
But the best part is that they are both fantastic people. So, even better than checking off a bucket list item, I made two amazing new friends.
I’ll take that over a silly old bucket list item any day.
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lollercakesff · 3 years
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And They Were Strangers
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Jyn Erso has been prepping for this for months. Years even, if you count the endless hours she'd spent running pools and hosting watch nights with her college roommates. She'd choreographed hundreds of dollars in auctions for remaining teams and had led multiple nights where her and her friends cooked their way around the world with the country of the week. The memories were great, sure, but to say she didn't feel a connection with this path in her life would be a lie. Something drew her in, tied her up, and convinced her that this - this - was the thing she needed to do before she died.
And now it was time. She was ready. Mentally… Physically… Hopefully.
AN: Will I finish writing this? I have a plan... But is it worth my time?
But the path to her next adventure was currently being blocked by some too-tall goon with haphazard hair and piercing dark eyes who kept getting in her way. First at check in, then in line for security, and now at the boarding gate. They’d practically been together, crossing paths and crashing each other, since she entered this damn airport and it was starting to really get to her. 
"Are you planning on getting on this plane or just standing in the way?" Jyn growls under her breath when the man doesn't move forward with the gate agent's call.
"What - Oh," he leaps forward a step and hustles towards the woman, pulling his passport from his pocket as Jyn sighs and checks her papers again. 
Her new American passport feels heavy in her hand, its empty pages a sign of things to come. She was on her way to Los Angeles where she was scheduled to show up at her first and only briefing for the next season of the Amazing Race. The producers had promised a full day of orientation covering the rules of the race and how the team match up would work before the "trip of a lifetime" began the next day. She was trying not to stress about it but she didn't quite know what she was getting into. 
This was the first season where every team in the race would be a set of strangers. They'd all meet at the briefing but it wouldn't be until the start of the race when they'd learn who their partner was. The producers had billed it as the season of 'fate' where they tried to pick a winning team by pure dumb luck with names drawn from a hat. Or so she'd been told. Who knew how it would really work.
"Next!" The agent calls and Jyn scurries forward, passing her documents over and brushing her bangs from her face. In another second she's motioned through and she's heading down the gangway and onto the plane. 
When she gets to her seat her frustration returns tenfold as the man from before has settled himself in her seat by the window, his seatbelt already clipped and his attention turned towards the action on the tarmac. 
"Hey, you're in my seat," she greets, stuffing her duffle in the overhead bin.
"F? Window?" He answers with an almost-accent and a quirk to his lips. Jyn frowns and steps into the row to let the people behind her pass.
"Yes. That's my seat, can you move please?" 
"I was sure I had the window, I feel claustrophobic if I can't see out - "
"Yeah, I'm sure. Can you check your boarding pass?" She asks, cutting his sob story off before it can even get started. 
"Can't I just have it this one time? It's a short flight," he answers, making no move to relent. Jyn sighs and drops into the seat next to him, her eyes closing tight as she urges the irritation to ease. 
"Fine. But this is bad karma and I hope it comes back to bite you in the ass, asshole," she grumbles the last part, determined to insult him but not loud enough to cause a scene. The man coughs as if to hide a laugh and Jyn hates him even more, pulling up her hood and taking out her headphones.
She was going to spend the next two hours in a music haven, mentally far from this man and the constant bumping of her elbow that came from sitting in the aisle row. Soon she'd be in LA at her hotel and then she'd be on to a new country, with a new language and culture that she'd have to work with to get her team to the finish line. Then she’d do it again and again until they won. Or they lost. She didn't like to think about that last possibility so instead she closes her eyes and hits play.
---
The hotel bed is more luxurious than anything she's ever slept in in her life and when she wakes it's with a curse as she realizes she's almost late to the briefing. Hustling around the room, she nearly crashes onto the floor when her pants get tangled and she loses her balance. Cursing out her alarm, her beautiful sleep, and the time difference, Jyn pulls on her t-shirt just as she pulls open her door and slams into someone walking past her room.
"Shit, sorry!” She gasps as she rights herself and pulls back. When she looks up it’s to find the man from the plane. The one who wouldn’t give her back her seat. The one who’d been a pain in the ass all day. “You!” The man’s eyes widen and he looks around him like he’s being Punk’d, surprise in his brow. 
“From the plane?” He counters, as if he was still struggling to place her. 
“Yeah. What, are you following me? How did you know to find me here?” Jyn growls, crossing her arms. The man cocks his head and furrows his brow, looking at her as though she was crazy. 
“Follow you? I’m here for… A thing that has nothing to do with you. If anything, I’d think you’re stalking me,” he adds sharply. Jyn scowls and shakes her head, her watch beeping with her five minute alarm. 
“Sure. Fine, whatever. I won’t be here long enough to have this happen again. Have a good life!” She shouts as she hurries off down the hall, her hand flung up into the air and her middle finger pointed towards him. 
She takes the stairs down to the conference room because getting stuck in the elevator with that jerk would put her nerves over the edge, their already frayed status from the late wakeup making her more punchy than usual. By the time she barrels into the room and grabs a plate of the breakfast, the producer is calling everyone to a seat. 
Jyn moves towards an empty chair and begins measuring up her fellow racers, her eyes drifting over one person and then the next as they settle in a semi-circle around the speaker. Some of them were incredibly fit, others a bit paunchy but she figured they could probably take her in a memory challenge or two if it came down to it. Most of them were on the younger side, maybe in their twenties or thirties, though there were a few who easily slotted into their fifties at the very least. She didn’t want to be ageist but she secretly hoped she’d get paired with someone who could keep up with her at the very least and she didn’t really peg any of these older folks as marathoners. 
“Welcome, good morning everyone!” A young woman calls out, drawing their attention to the front of the room. Jyn sits up and nimbles on a muffin, trying to look intimidating to the others around her who she assumed were doing the measuring up as she had just been. 
“You’re in my seat,” a voice says over her shoulder. Jyn’s stomach drops and she frowns, looking back to find the man from the airplane and the hallway standing behind her. “Don’t worry though, I’m not going to make you move, I’ll just take this empty one here.” 
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Jyn hisses, clenching her hands and nearly crushing her muffin to pieces. 
“Nope,” he responds as he sits in the chair next to her. An insult is on the tip of her tongue when the woman calls out again and really takes control of the room, beginning with a welcome spiel before moving right into the security briefing. After the team has explained every terrifying aspect about the world in explicit detail, Jyn looks around the room and finds half of the contestants with a concerned look on their faces, the other half grinning wickedly at the challenge. Beside her the man keeps his expression reserved though his eyes are calculating, the look making her guess whether he was regretting his choice or simply bored. 
After the welcome session, they’re broken up into groups of four and are led to a table in the corner of the room. Jyn sighs a breath of relief as the man is placed in another group, his presence finally dissipating and allowing her to focus on the tasks at hand instead of the prickling skin she felt whenever he was close. 
Hours pass and the contestants are moved around the room to different stations where they focus on different aspects of the game. There’s logic tests and geography quizzes which she passes with flying colours but when it comes to the language skills and memory games she flounders, her attention twisting towards her fellow contestants. She spends half the time trying to measure up where they stand on these activities, who would be best suited to the way she wanted to run this race. 
Her strategy - based on years of watching the show - was to run with brute force. She would power through on the physical challenges and when it came to figuring out a puzzle she was set. She just needed a partner who would be able to keep up and rush into everything just as hard. Smarts weren’t what won you the race, it was being able to push your way through anything and she had trained to do just that. 
“Everyone now has an hour for lunch. Feel free to get to know each other and remember, these folks might be your competition or they might just be the person you cross that finish line with!” The producer from earlier calls as the stations are closed and the participants are left to loiter in the room. 
Jyn feels like she’s in a social experiment as she beelines towards the food table to take a plate. She loads it up with everything she’s going to miss for the next few weeks - caesar salad and french fries and pasta salad that looked too delicious to miss. When she settles at a table she’s quickly joined by a handful of others, the conversation easily picking up from the morning activities.
“I’m Bodhi Rook, you?” The man sitting next to her says around a forkful of salad. Jyn looks him over quickly and notes his tall frame and long hair, his thin frame and open expression. He could be a good partner - she’d seen him race through some of the challenges with an efficiency she admired. 
“Jyn Erso,” she answers, lifting her hand to offer a shake. Bodhi takes it and squeezes it before turning back to his food, diving in as she looks around the table at the others. “You heard anything about how we’re going to be assigned teams?” She asks after a few minutes, her water lifting to her lips. 
“Not really. My group thought maybe the stations were to see where our strengths were so they could match us up better. But I was also told it would be a name in a hat, so who knows what they’re planning.” 
“Yeah, I heard the hat thing too. I hope there’s a little more thought put into it,” she responds with a shrug. Bodhi nods and lets a laugh escape. 
“Either way, I think I’ll be okay. I just like the adventure of it, you know? Don’t really need to win the whole thing,” he says around another bite. 
Jyn frowns and looks at her food, debating internally whether she could be paired with someone who didn’t want to win the whole race. If she had to admit it - though she’d never say it on camera - she wasn’t here just because she liked the show and wanted to see the world. 
She was here because she needed the prize money. 
The thought creeps up on her and she pushes it back down, stuffing it into her chest like too many clothes in a carry on bag. She didn’t have time to think about it now, not when she should be sizing up her competition and thinking about U-Turn and Yield strategy. No. She needed to focus. 
“What about everyone else?” Bodhi asks the table when Jyn still doesn’t respond. She turns her attention to the people around them, listening as first a bright eyed Luke Skywalker and a gruff Baze Malbus explain their motivations before moving on to Leia Organa, a beautiful but strategic thinker, and her cocky puppy-dog-tail for-the-day Han Solo easily admits he’s only here for the money. Jyn can’t help but think he might be her real competition if they don’t get paired together, the gleam of a quick buck in his eyes adding to his boisterous energy. 
Taking another glance around the room, Jyn weighs the rest of her competition as they sit at two other tables. Sixteen racers in total, all with different motivations and experiences that they bring to the table. They’d be eight teams and the producers had all but guaranteed it would be a tough race with all of them having secret strengths that were admitted in their bio videos. Jyn can’t remember what hers ss but by the time she turns back to the conversation at hand, she already knows one thing is for sure - she’s going to win, even if it kills her. 
After lunch they’re broken off into individual briefing rooms where they’re given their racing issued equipment and a final check in with the producers before they’re sent off to their rooms to pack. In the morning they’ll all be meeting in the lobby to hand over their backpacks before heading to the starting line. 
When the race starts their first activity will be finding their matched backpack with a coloured bandana tied to it. The racer with the matching bandana will be their partner for the duration and it will either be a successful match or a story of just how quickly Jyn can crash and burn their team. 
Throughout the evening she tries not to think about it - pushing away thoughts of how hectic tomorrow would be, how much adrenaline is already rolling in her veins and just how is she supposed to sleep tonight? To distract herself she focuses on potential strategies depending on who she paired with in the morning. Baze could work, or she’d even probably be successful with Han if they didn’t rip each other's heads off. Bodhi would be a great candidate - he seemed relaxed and competent, but Jyn didn’t like that he wasn’t driven by the final prize so much as he just wanted to have an adventure. 
No, she could pair with most of the people she’d met that morning. With the very real exception of the man from the plane who she’d learned was named Cassian Andor. There was no way they would be able to work together to even get out of the States, their partnership tanking before they even took their first flight. She was sure of it. And so when she falls asleep that night it’s to the thought that she had a one in fifteen chance of failing and those were pretty good odds. 
---
Morning comes in a rush of excitement and insanity and a paranoia that she’s forgotten something even though she’s checked her bags at least a dozen times. When she gets to the lobby, the assistants take her old bags and mark them with her tags before collecting her race bag and shoving it onto a luggage cart with the other packs. She’s directed to a holding queue where the racers mill about, snacking on the continental breakfast and filling their water bottles. 
Twenty minutes later and they’re piled onto a bus. Thirty minutes later and they’re being placed around an empty field with only the production crew circling them and a pile of luggage in the center of the field. Jyn thinks she spots her bag with a blue tag and she grins, looking around at the nervous faces she was up against. 
“You’ve got this,” she whispers to herself as Phil Keoghan begins his speech from near the luggage pile. Adrenaline spikes in her blood and then there’s a horn and she’s racing forward, scrambling for the luggage pile and her bag with its bandana looped through the arm. She pulls it free and stumbles back, looking around at the other racers as they take in their own colours, desperately looking for their partner. 
Not Bodhi. Not Baze. Fuck, not even Han. She scours the faces and colours until she sees it - blue, like hers! She steps forward, her smile widening having finally found her partner. 
But then she looks up. And her eyes meet her partner’s. 
Dark brown meeting green.
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
“Guess you’re stuck with someone with bad karma,” he says evenly, the nerve of it making her want to pull her hair out. She curses again and grabs for his arm, dragging him towards the clue box for their next instructions. They didn’t have time to waste on pleasantries and witty comebacks, not if they wanted to win. 
She could do this. Brute force was all it would take, right? 
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willow-salix · 4 years
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Isolation update! I was planning on doing the prompt of "Sight" for @gumnut-logic challenge for the next chapter of the big fat fic (which I'm still gonna do) but this came out too. So I let the boys roll with it.
Day 76 of Isolation on Tracy Island
“Scott?”
“Hmm?”
“Do you know anything about this?” I held up my headphones, which had been previously missing for maybe the last eight months and that I had just found in the cutlery drawer.
“Yeah, they’re headphones.”
“Thank you Captain Obvious, I meant why are they in with the knives and forks?”
He shrugged. “Why are you asking me?”
“Because you were hiding socks around the place for over three weeks.”
“Only because it took you so long to give them back to me. I started after we watched Half Blood Prince, I thought it would make you laugh but you just kept ignoring them.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry I didn’t realise you needed to be freed!”
“Of course I did! I was your house elf!”
“House elves do chores! They don’t sit around being fed and demanding attention!”
“I’m a progressive house elf that is fighting for elf rights!”
“No you aren't, you’re a lazy bum!”
“Lazy? Me?”
“Yes, you!”
“I will never understand the conversations you two have,” John muttered as he pushed past us to fill his mug with the coffee I had just brewed.
“It’s affectionate arguing,” Scott laughed, sliding his mug over to John for a top up.
“So no one knows why my headphones have just suddenly turned up from wherever they vanished to and magicked themselves into the kitchen?”
“Nope,” Scott gave up waiting for John to pour him a drink and stole mine. I narrowed my eyes in his general direction. John slid a fresh cup over to me. Such a great guy.
“You know,” John mused. “I found one of my world geography books in the bathroom cupboard.”
“I found my utility knife in the piano stool,” Virgil added, wandering over to snag some toast that had just popped up.
“I just made that,” I told him.
“Thank you,” he continued to butter it. I stared at his plaid clad back for a few seconds but when he failed to burst into flames I gave up and dropped some more bread into the toaster.
“Now that I think about it,” Scott mused, “I found my guitar pick in the fruit bowl, the one that I got from that little shop in Texas. I thought I lost it for good years ago but it just appeared out of nowhere.”
“Something strange is going on,” Virgil declared. “If stuff we lost is returning there has to be a reason for it.”
“Parallel universe,” I answered confidently.
“I don’t think that's a thing,” Scott said gently.
“Apports then?” I offered.
“No, I don’t think...what’s an apport?” Virgil asked.
“An object conjured out of nothing by a ghost, obviously.”
“I don’t think this is the work of a ghost, love," John said, squeezing my shoulder as he passed by to take a seat. “There’s only one person that borrows things without asking and that’s Gordon.”
“That was going to be my next guess,” I admitted.
“Yet you went straight for ghosts and different universes?” Scott asked, clearly bemused.
“Well, maybe, just for once, I wanted something interesting to happen around here that I could actually deal with,” I huffed. “Sue me.”
“Only you could think ghosts and different realms were something that’s easy to deal with when you were the one that screamed and climbed me like a monkey because a crab ran over your foot on the beach last night,” John laughed.
“Crabs have pincers, any sane person would get away from one of them,” I pouted, reaching for some toast off Virgil’s plate. Honestly I don’t know why we don't just have communal plates in this house, no one seems to eat their own food.
“So what are we going to do about Gordon being a kleptomaniac?” I asked.
“We’ll deal with him after breakfast,” Scott decided, leaning over and biting the corner off my toast. See? No boundaries whatsoever.
***
The klepto in question was sneaking suspiciously around the lounge when we tracked him down and we caught him in the act of leaving a magnifying glass behind a book on the bookcase.
“Busted,” Scott yelled, making Gordon jump about a foot in the air.
“So it was you that’s been leaving our belongings scattered around the house,” Virgil sighed.
“Why are you doing this?” John asked, although his tone said he was debating the wiseness of even posing the question and was unsure he actually wanted an answer.
“Can’t a guy do something nice for his family?”
“He can when he’s not the one thats been stealing things in the first place,” I shot back, arms folded, foot tapping.
“I’m offended!” Gordon gasped dramatically. “A Tracy doesn’t steal unless its Virgil and a bell takes his fancy-”
“That was one time and it was an accident!”
“I may borrow things,” Gordon continued.
“For three years?” Scott snorted.
“I borrow on extended loan-”
“Without permission,” John added.
“But you always get them back eventually,” Gordon finished triumphantly. “I got bored and cleaned my room and it was like unearthing buried treasure. I may have forgotten that I borrowed a few things but you’ve got them back now, so no harm no foul.”
“Is that all you needed to return?” Virgil sighed.
“There might be a few other things scattered around,” Gordon admitted.
“Go and get them,” Scott ordered.
Gordon staggered in half an hour later weighed down by a massive box overflowing with his plundered loot.
“Seriously?” Scott gaped as the box thumped down on the table.
“All of that?” Virgil couldn't believe his eyes.
“Not surprised,” John muttered.
“How did you manage to borrow all that?” Alan asked in awe, having been summoned from his pit to claim any lost items that may have fallen into Gordons possession. “I’m not even allowed to borrow a pen.”
“It’s because he doesn’t bother asking,” John told him.
“That’s where I’ve been going wrong!”
Gordon shooty finger winked at him.
“No!” I yelped, intervening for the first time and grabbing Alan, pulling him into my arms. “Do not corrupt this precious bean.”
“Too...late,” Alan wheezed, trying to escape my python like grasp.
“Oh, sorry,” I let go and Alan took a dramatically deep breath.
“What’s in the box, Squid?” Scott asked.
Gordon tipped the box up and out tumbled a mass of things that shocked even me.
“That’s my baseball cap,” Scott snagged it.
“My gloves,” Virgil claimed them.
“That’s my camera,” John snatched it up. “I thought I left that behind on the beach and the sea took it.”
“Well, technically the sea’s representative did,” I giggled, then noticed something in the middle of the pile. “Why do you have my headscarf? You know that I use that when you guys force me to get in a boat, it makes me feel fancy.”
“Are those my sunglasses?”
“Yes, I broke mine and was going fishing.”
“Is that my lipstick?”
“Yeah, I used it to draw blood on my neck so I could be a zombie at halloween.”
“There’s my ocarina.”
“It was so weird I had to try it.”
“Is that my belt?”
“Yeah, remember that date I went on with Penny? It went really well with those navy pants.”
“I thought I lost that harmonica.”
“I was going through a depressed week and wanted to play the blues.”
“Is that my cologne?”
“Same date.”
“Why do you have my toothbrush?”
“I used it to clean the sand out of one of Four’s filters.”
“My playing cards!”
“Yeah, I wanted to learn card tricks.”
“My travel chess set!”
“Four of the pawns are missing now, sorry.”
“Seriously, my drill?”
“I wanted to put up a picture.”
“Why did you need my tie?”
“That's classified.”
“That’s my favorite pen.”
“Yeah, I’ve got no excuse for that, I used it, put it in my pocket and forgot about it.”
“Gordon, why do you have my flip flops?”
“Mine broke and your’s were nearest.”
An endless stream of lost objects had suddenly returned home and it was a tad overwhelming but along with his more recent acquisitions were items that hadn’t been seen in forever.
“I remember this game!” Alan exclaimed, grabbing the box. “John and I used to play it all the time when I was little. You had to be astronauts and fly through the meteor showers and land on different planets and fight aliens. It was great. We had the best scores, no one could beat us.”
“Actually, I had the best scores,” John corrected him.
“No way, it was a team effort, we played that together every night after I got home from school.”
Virgil chuckled.
“What?” Alan looked confused. “Why are you laughing?”
“I may have taken the batteries out of your controller and just let you think you were playing.” John admitted.
“What! That was one of my greatest achievements in life!”
“Alan, you went into space when you were thirteen,” John pointed out.
“Oh yeah!”
Virgil spotted a book and picked it up. “I haven’t seen this since we were little.”
“Oh, I remember that one,” Scott smiled. “Mom had it when she was small and she used to read it to us every thanksgiving.”
John was busy sifting through the pile. “Hey, my first star globe, why do you have this?”
“Remember when I used to get upset when Dad went away? Well you used to point out all the different stars to me on it and where the moon was near them.”
“Oh yeah,” John smiled, “I remember that, I let you borrow it to keep beside your bed so you could see where Dad was every night.”
“That’s my old teddy bear,” Scott smiled, picking it up and sitting it on his lap. “I left him with you when I went to college.”
“I know, I told you that I was too old to have a plushie in my room but you insisted. I passed him on to Alan and when we moved I guess he got packed up with my things.”
“That’s the children’s guitar that Mom taught us to play,” Virgil picked it up and strummed a few cords but the tuning was terrible.
“I’ve never seen that before,” Alan said quietly. “In fact, I don’t remember much of any of this stuff.” He gestured to the pile of things that still remained scattered on the table top. “I don’t know that pencil sharpener, that snow globe or those shell bracelets, I don’t know any of it.”
“Neither do I,” I reminded him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.
“I don’t have any memories of them so they don’t mean anything to me.”
“But that’s what’s so great about things and why I keep telling your brother that not everything has to have a use all the time. Things are there to remind us of the good times, just the sight of them can conjure up images, but they are also there to encourage us to share those memories. I used to love looking through my Nan and Grandad’s cupboards because I discovered so many things that were interesting,” I told him. “I’d ask them about them and they would tell me where they got them or who they belonged to before they got them and it was so nice to see the joy that the memories brought them. Pick something and ask about them, let’s share memories.”
Slowly Alan reached out to touch the small pile of shell bracelets.
“Where did these come from?”
“We were on a trip to the beach,” Scott started.
“Gordon was running all over picking up little shells and bringing them back to Mom,” Virgil continued.
“She ended up with a huge pile of them,” John laughed. “But Gordon didn't want her to put them back.”
“She ended up asking Dad to drill a tiny hole through each of them and she made them into bracelets for us as a reminder of the vacation,” Scott picked up the story.
“We wore them for a few days but Gordon kept stealing them because he loved the shells,” Virgil added.
“I remember that,” Gordon smiled. “There’s a picture in the album of me wearing them all, I don’t look any older than five.”
Alan picked them up, rubbing one of the shells between thumb and finger. “Why are there five of them?”
“Because Mom was pregnant with you at the time and said that you were there too so you should have a bracelet,” Scott smiled, reaching over to take one. “This was mine.”
One by one the others each claimed a bracelet, leaving Alan with just one.
“You’re right, that’s a nice story to hear,” he admitted, slipping the bracelet over his hand.
“Hey, here’s an idea,” I suggested. “This has been a mad few months, how about we start a new memory box and in ten years time we’ll look back in it and remember the longest vacation ever.”
“Yeah,” Alan nodded. “That could be cool.”
The box slowly filled up with bits and pieces.
Here are some of them.
-Some of our finished colouring pages.
-Gordon’s tablet that hadn’t recovered from its unscheduled dip in the bath.
-Brains’s broken glasses and a broken piece of his microscope that fell off of Alan when we played human buckaroo
-A small pile of post-it’s which Scott had used on April fools day to label everything in the lounge.
-The rubber spider John had pranked me with.
-A pair of the bunny ears the boys wore to deliver Easter eggs.
-The empty bottle of ‘Chill Pills’ Scott got for his birthday.
-A selection of our pictionary artwork.
-The beauty blender Virgil ruined on Gordon’s face.
-An empty popcorn bag Alan found stuffed between the couch cushions from one of our many movie nights.
-One of Scott’s socks that hadn’t been found before.
-A gaudy necklace from our lip sync battle
-A clue list from our scavenger hunt
-A shell I picked up on the beach the day they taught me to surf.
-The evil Furby
-The purple wig we made John wear (he was very glad to donate it to the memory box)
“OK, so, we don’t take anything out but we can add more for as long as isolation goes on?” Alan confirmed.
“Yep,” I nodded. “Who’s going to be in charge of keeping it safe?”
“Gordon should,” Alan said. “Since he seems to be the keeper of everyone’s things.”
“Even without permission,” John muttered, tucking his pen into his pocket in case it went walkies again.
“Actually,” Gordon said, “I think Alan should look after it for us.”
“Really? You mean that?” Alan grinned.
“Sure, kiddo,” Scott agreed. “After all, they’re your memories too
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solarune · 5 years
Text
meet me on the rooftop
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pairing: mark lee x reader
genre: fluff, best friends to lovers is implied at the end i guess, college au, spiderman au
warnings: wasn’t sure if i should put fem!reader or not bc it’s implied that reader has long hair that gets into their face at one point but not everyone that identifies as a girl has long hair and people that don’t identify as a girl have long hair so like??? pls let me know if i made the right decision lol
word count: 1,979
a/n: i listened to the soundtrack for “into the spider-verse” while writing the last 1/3 of this lmao. i was actually going to name this “let go” after the song by beau young prince (but decided against it bc i didn’t think it fit) on the soundtrack so listen to that song while reading this if you’d like? also this happened because of @retro-milk‘s spider-man!mark au and a drawing of spider-man!mark i saw on twitter
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Mark smirks underneath his mask as he watches the bank robbers squirm underneath the webbing, their boots scuffing against the brick wall of the bank’s entrance as they beg him to let them go. Just as he’s about to reply, police sirens cut him off, their red, white, and blue lights lighting up the street around him, and Mark takes that as his signal to leave. With a mocking salute and a “See you fellas later,” he makes his way down the street, shooting a web to the roof of an office building and taking off just as the first police car arrives. Mark can’t help but let out a whoop of joy as he swings from building to building, the various noises of Seoul’s nightlife the soundtrack to his next destination. 
After Mark’s long and exhausting week, he definitely needed tonight to let off some steam, especially after the psychology midterm he took in the afternoon. He had studied all week long, gotten a total of maybe 6 hours of sleep in the past 2 days, but the second he read the first question of the exam, he felt his mind go blank. Mark was frustrated to say the least, so tonight’s victory was a much-needed pick-me-up and a great outlet to let go of everything.
He lets his mind wander as his body moves on autopilot, the route to his destination so well-known to him that he could probably get there with his eyes closed (he wouldn’t dare try that though because knowing his luck, he’d run face-first into a lamppost). His feet touch down on concrete, footsteps silent as he lets go of the web and takes in the sight before him: graffiti on the wall to his left, pigeon poop covering the abandoned wooden crates to his right, and the city of Seoul in front of him. Mark makes his way to the wall in front of him, slowly sitting down with a sigh as he takes everything in and takes off his mask.
He tries to not come to the rooftop of your apartment building too often for fear of getting caught, specifically by you, but he just couldn’t help himself tonight. He knows that he’s running a big risk, that you enjoy your alone time on the rooftop—stargazing while listening to one of your many playlists—that for all he knows, you could be there right now. But being there reminds him of simpler times. Before college, before he was Spider-Man, before things got so complicated and the world was black and white rather than various shades of grey. It reminds him of when you and him were still in high school and he would follow you up the fire escape to the roof. You would lie down on the cold concrete and look up at the stars and talk about anything and everything; your pasts, the weird kid in your geography class, how scared you were of what college would be like. Things were a lot easier back then.
Or maybe they just felt easier because you were always with him. Mark found you very comforting, which isn’t surprising considering you’re his best friend. The two of you balance each other out really well and had been inseparable since the 2nd grade when Mark moved to Korea from Canada; hell, you were one of the reasons Mark even became Spider-Man in the first place. Even now, with college consuming every minute of your lives, you and Mark still make time for each other. Because that’s what best friends do. But Mark is tired of being your best friend, is tired of constantly having to push down the confession that’s on the tip of his tongue every time he sees you. He wants to give you the world but he supposes that protecting the one you live in is good enough for him for now.
As he’s staring at the N Seoul Tower off in the distance, Mark hears quiet footsteps behind him and he scrambles to put his mask back on, cursing loudly at himself in his head. It’s only September, when the nights are still warm, of course someone would be on the roof. He turns around to see who it is while simultaneously planning his escape in his head, but freezes when he sees that it’s you. You stop in your tracks, your right hand fidgeting with the hem of his your old high school shirt and your left hand lifted up to him as if to show that you mean no harm.
The two of you stare at each other for what feels like minutes, neither of you wanting to break the silence, but eventually you gather enough courage to ask, “Are you okay?”
Mark is taken aback at that; of all questions you want to ask him, you ask if he’s okay? “U-Uh, I… What?” he stutters out, not completely sure what you mean by that. Judging by the indentations on your cheek, he guesses that you had been asleep for around half an hour, which means you had been on the roof for an hour and a half before falling asleep. There was no way you would know about Spider-Man stopping a bunch of bank robbers only a few miles from your apartment. So there’s no way that you would know he’s hurt.
He sees you bite your lower lip and can’t help but smile softly at that, his eyes never leaving your face as yours look down at your feet. “S-Sorry, you were just… sighing a lot? But the sad kind of sigh, and also the exhausted kind, so I just thought I should ask because, well, when am I ever going to get another chance to talk to Spider-Man, you know?”
He can’t help but laugh at your rambling, the tightness in his chest easing up at your words and your presence. “I’m okay,” Mark nods, thanking God that he remembered to turn on the voice distortion. He wasn’t quite ready to have that talk with you yet. “It’s just been a long week. School’s been kicking my ass, I haven’t been getting a lot of sleep—you know, the regular college student type of stress.” He finishes his explanation with a shrug, mentally pushing down the stress when his mention of school makes him think about his psychology exam. “I had a psychology exam today and I didn’t do that great on it.”
You nod at his explanation, slowly walking over to sit next to him on the ledge. You sit far enough away to maintain a respectable distance but still close enough where he could smell the faint scent of the oil you put in your hair after you shower. “I feel that,” you chuckle, your hands clenching into fists where they rest on your thighs. “I had an exam today too, in my biology class, and I just completely bombed it.” (Mark has to stop himself from asking about your exam when you say that, his confusion as to why you told him earlier today that you thought you did fine almost giving away his identity.) You shake your head a bit and laugh to yourself quietly, letting out a sigh before looking up at him with a small smile. “My best friend Mark also had an exam in his psychology class today. He looked sad when I met up with him for coffee when we were both done with classes so I didn’t pry.”
A comfortable silence falls over the two of you, Mark looking up at the sky and just beginning to wonder whether or not he should leave, whether or not it was even a good idea for him to be there in the first place, when you break the silence. “Can I ask you something?”
Mark looks over at you, his hand twitching when the cool breeze sweeps a couple of strands of your hair in front of your face. “You technically just did,” Mark jokes, his suit’s voice distortion making him sound a lot more confident than he felt. “But yeah, go ahead.”
You roll your eyes at his lame joke, huffing out a laugh before looking up at the sky. “How can you tell when someone is keeping something from you?” Mark freezes at that, every hair on his body standing straight up as he looks at you. “It’s just…” you begin, taking the hero’s silence and stare as a request to elaborate. “Mark hasn’t been himself lately. He hasn’t been sleeping, he seems really on-edge about everything, and sometimes… sometimes I even see cuts and bruises on him. And I try to ask him what’s going on, if he’s in some sort of trouble, but he always says that I shouldn’t think about it, that it’s nothing to worry about. But that’s ridiculous because of course I’m going to worry and think about it—I’m his best friend, first of all, and second of all, I’m already thinking about him half the time because I’m in love with him, but that’s an entirely different story.”
Mark jumps up at that, his feet hitting the concrete hard enough to make his teeth rattle, but he barely notices as he stares at you. “You’re what?” he asks in disbelief. You are in love with him? With Mark Lee, the boy who, to this day, still hasn’t found a way to make his heart stop beating so fast whenever he hears you laugh, who blushes whenever you tease him, who feels like he’s going to faint whenever the two of you so much as brush shoulders?
“I know, I know,” you reply while shaking your head. “I’m in love with my best friend, super lame. No need to tell me that, all of my friends already do on a daily basis.”
“No,” Mark disagrees, briefly wondering if you’re able to hear how loud and fast his heart is beating because that’s almost all he can hear at this point. “It’s cute actually. Like something out of one of those teen romance movies you find on Netflix, you know?” You laugh at that and Mark sits down beside you once again, a little bit closer this time. “And as for Mark, it sounds like he just doesn’t want to worry you. Since you and him have been best friends for so long, he probably knows that there are things that you’re worrying about too and he just doesn’t want to add to that,” he explains, finding courage from the mask and suit on his body to confide in you (whether or not you actually know it’s him). “You just need to trust him. I’m sure he’ll tell you whatever it is when he’s ready.”
Nodding at his words, you look out at the city once more, finding a new love for it in that moment. “Can I ask you one more thing?” You see him nod out of the corner of your eye and continue, a smile appearing on your face as you say it. “If this whole superhero thing doesn’t work out for you, can you keep trying to help people somehow? Because you’re really good at it.”
He can’t help but let out a loud laugh at that, the two of you standing up at the same time as the conversation comes to an end. Mark turns his back to the city lights, looking at you as he stands on the ledge. “I’ll try,” he agrees. With that, he takes a step back and falls off the roof, thrusting his arm out and shooting out a web as he begins his journey home. He smiles to himself when he hears you yell out, “Goodnight, Spider-Man,” letting out a whoop as he lets go of a web, closing his eyes as he falls before releasing another one.
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arisalty · 5 years
Text
All My Life I’ve Been so Lonely
(Quick A/N, I would like to say thanks to my beta reader Elbie. This is my first time actually completing a fic for the Sanders Sides fandom but it is also the first time I’ve EVER tried writing angst. So... yeah. Also, it’s a Soulmate AU)
(Also I asked the Powerless discord what names for the dogs with no context except a young Patton named them and received an “Aww” in reactions *cough Moon and Dallas*. If only they knew.)
Pairing: Logicality, platonic Prinxiety, platonic Analogince (kinda???)
AO3
Tw: Major Character Death, Car Accident, Bullying, discriminatory language/slurs
Logan had always left little messages from when he was a child and always received little ones back. When he was younger, little doodles like smiley faces, geometric shapes and simple words like “hello” and “How are you?”. As he grew, they turned into late night conversations, maths workings for the other and secret codes made and lost in memories.
He met Patton when he was 7, their parents working together to set up a surprise meeting for Patton’s birthday.
They were best friends, constantly talking. Patton brought out the boldness behind the quiet mask of shyness Logan constantly had, and Logan influenced Patton by enhancing his curiosity by the occasional ramble about something really cool, like the stars.
They had so much in common, but also so many things different between them. They were a perfect match together, bringing out the best parts of both. It was to be expected, they were soulmates, but not all soulmates start off with such a good connection.
They did everything they could together- birthday parties, vacations, Christmases; they were basically joined at the hip.
Logan wished he could say he couldn't remember anything from the 18th of November, but if there was one thing Patton had drilled into his mind, it was that lies were bad and that lies could destroy the world if someone used them right.
And so once again the memory was dragged up as he sat alone.
The day started out with him rising to find a little message in cyan scrawled on the inside of his wrist; “Good morning, Lo! Meet at the park like usual? :)”
Logan grabbed his blue ballpoint pen and wrote back a quick “Of course, Patton”.
Logan got out of bed, showered, dressed, ate (he had eggs on toast), grabbed his school bag and left for school. He met Patton at the corner of the park like usual and got into registration with plenty of time before school started.
Math was first- they revisited the area of shapes that day- then geography (it was a pop quiz), break, Science and English (then lunch, like usual) before finishing the day with cooking.
Cooking was always a fun lesson, due to their class being, well, children, and cooking such things as pizza and banana bread and kebabs. Powdered sugar often coated most surfaces, which oddly never happened when a member of staff was present, only when their back was turned, and Logan was not even going to get started about the time they were able to use barbecue sauce.
But Logan took an extra club after school- further maths, because-- cmon, it’s not that weird to like maths, is it?
But either way, Logan stayed back an hour after school while Patton got a ride home.
Logan was about halfway through the time there (their current project was about using Excel mathematically) when he received a message on his arm in Patton's mother, Tracy’s handwriting;
𝐿𝑜𝑔𝒶𝓃,
𝒫𝒶𝓉𝓉𝑜𝓃… 𝒫𝒶𝓉𝓉𝑜𝓃’𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝑜𝓀𝒶𝓎.
𝐻𝑒’𝓈 𝒷𝑒𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝒶𝓀𝑒𝓃 𝓉𝑜 𝒽𝑜𝓈𝓅𝒾𝓉𝒶𝓁 𝒷𝓎 𝒶𝒾𝓇- 𝐼’𝓂 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝒽𝒾𝓂 𝓃𝑜𝓌. 𝒜𝓁𝒶𝓃’𝓈 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝒹𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝒾𝓇 𝓇𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝓉𝑜 𝓅𝒾𝒸𝓀 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓊𝓅.
𝐼’𝓂 𝓈𝑜𝓇𝓇𝓎 𝓉𝑜 𝒹𝒾𝓈𝓇𝓊𝓅𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒸𝓁𝓊𝒷 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝐼 𝒻𝑒𝑒𝓁 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓃𝑒𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝒸𝑜𝓂𝑒. 𝒴𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓂𝑜𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇𝓈 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝓂𝑒𝑒𝓉 𝓊𝓈 𝒶𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒽𝑜𝓈𝓅𝒾𝓉𝒶𝓁 𝒶𝓈 𝓈𝑜𝑜𝓃 𝒶𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝒾𝓇 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓀 𝒻𝒾𝓃𝒾𝓈𝒽𝑒𝓈.
𝒯𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓎
Logan felt his hand clench on the piece of paper he was holding. Muffled noises of other students, almost mechanical movement as he picked up his bag, with a jumbled and confusing talk with the teacher and rushed down to the office where Alan was already waiting, having signed Logan out already.
The car ride was almost silent except a quiet “What happened?” from Logan.
Alan took a deep breath, eyes trained on the road.
“He had taken Spot and Buddy out for a walk to pass the time before you came home. You know how restless he can get. And apparently, Buddy broke into a run and ran into the road, and Patton followed to pick him back up to move him onto the pavement, and that’s when the car… Well, you’re a smart boy, Logan. You can work it out.”
Silence fell over the car until they reached the hospital.
Once they reached the right area, they found Tracy sat outside, the woman wiping away a stray tear.
“The doctors are with him now. They’ve already found at least 2 broken ribs and a broken leg, but he’s lost a lot of blood.” her voice dropped as she tried to calm a stuttering breath. “They aren’t sure if he’ll be able to make it.”
Logan sat slowly, shock leaving him with no words, and he found that it was probably for the best that he remained without speaking.
His best friend, his soulmate was dying. He should’ve been there. It was his fault. He should’ve been there. Patton wouldn’t have been restless. He could’ve warned Patton. He us shouldn’t have taken the club.
The doctors came out about half an hour later, and one of Logan’s moms had arrived. The talked in hushed voices to Alan, but everyone could see the drop in his face, the sadness dragging the corners of his lips downwards. Logan was curled into a ball on his mother’s lap, not sobbing, but occasionally another tear would silently follow the glistening path of many that preceded it.
As a face fell, as did the hopes and feelings. Everyone seemed to huddle together more, and Logan choked back a sob, only for it to escape quietly from his mouth, the rest of his breath shaky. Tracy was wiping away tears of her own, leaning into Alan who had moved to embrace his wife. Logan’s mom, Cassie, was wrapped around Logan protectively, rocking gently as she stroked Logan's head.
It was from that moment that Logan was drawing himself back into his shell of shyness and fear.
His once dramatic self he had found with Patton almost completely disappeared.
He moved away not much longer; he couldn’t bear the memories that surrounded the town. Everything reminded him of Patton.
Buddy had been put down after he also got hit by the car, but Spot was given to him to look after.
In the new school he was at, Logan didn’t really make any friends, but one group, the more weird ones and the nerds took him in. But he refused to talk about soulmates. And the closest ones never asked.
However, being a quiet nerd with two moms around the age of 14 would never work out well.
“Oh look, it’s the nerd with the fags for moms!” The boys surrounding him laughed along with his friend.
“Leave me alone,” came a quiet reply.
“Oh I’m sorry, I can’t hear you, but I bet your about to burst into tears.”
“Ooooh, do we need to call mommy to kiss your pride better?”
Logan pressed his eyes closed, trying to ignore the discriminatory idiots around him.
“I feel sorry for your soulmate,” another one went on. “I would want to die if I got someone like you.”
Logan clenched his fist, trying to keep his calm.
“I bet he doesn’t even have a soulmate.”
And then Logan snapped.
“What do you know? You haven’t ever... ever had the chance to get close to your soulmate to have him ripped away from you! You’ve not been through the pain I have. You will never care about those around you. You only care for yourselves. You only care to make yourselves better than others. Well, newsflash, you aren’t, and you will never, ever, in the rest of your lives be better than anyone.”
The group were shocked silent briefly as the boy in front of them was known for not ever retaliating to jibes, but then the head of the group, Samuel Matthews, spoke up.
“Him? So not only were you raised by fags, but you are a faggot yourself? Ha!”
The other boys took this as newfound ammunition, crowding around, enclosing him against the fence where he was sat.
“Just… leave me alone.”
“As if, Fa-“
“Finish that insult and I will not hesitate to punch you.” Logan looked up quickly to see that a taller, older kid had dragged Matthews back by the scruff of his clothes.
“Leave the kid alone, you foul creatures!” Roman Hartley stood the the side, arms on his hips as he glared at the bullies.
“You heard him, fuckers. Go!” The taller, lankier kid glared from underneath his bangs.
The bullies stood their ground, until Matthews muttered a quick “c’mon. We aren’t gonna beat this.”
Once the bullies were gone, Virgil went and seated himself next to Logan, holding out a hand.
“Virgil Evans, sorry you had to go through that. They’re real dicks. Oh, and this is my friend, Roman Hartley, but you probably already know that. He has a habit to broadcast himself.”
“Rude.”
Logan was aware that they were a good two years older, and that most of the time, same years stuck together and didn’t mix with lower or higher ones.
“C’mon bud, let’s go get you a snack.”
Virgil slung his arm over Logan’s shoulder, guiding him to stand up and move towards the hall and canteen. Roman cracked a joke, and Logan let himself share a tiny grin with the two.
Yes, Logan still felt broken after 3 years of Patton being gone, but Logan could be fixed, he just needed the right people.
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unkindnessofone · 6 years
Text
5SOS. Park That Car
This is a series of Daphne one shots. I can’t believe it’s done. I loved writing it. There is the slightest amount of smut in one them, but that’s it. It’s like so very little. Please enjoy. I love hearing your feedback. It would be cool to hear which one was your favorite if any. Also dedicating this one to @fivesauceblurbs . They've always been supportive and it does not go unnoticed. The title is based off this song . To me, it could be Daphne’s theme and it’s by one of my favorite bands.
ONE
Some days Daphne Hood didn’t like anything about herself. Sometimes, she could rattle off a list of a hundred different things about herself that were ‘bad’, 'ugly’, or 'stupid’. Even though she didn’t think she was one of the strongest dancers in her classes, it was generally when she was extending her limbs and throwing her body into music that she felt of all the villainous voices in her head. However, she didn’t take dance every day. There were two days out of the week where she had to stay behind at school and work with a tutor in order to pass. It was on those days that she was particularly hard on herself. So instead of dance class, she had to find an alternative happy place. She didn’t have March’s arms anymore, so Daphne started to feel her best when she was behind the wheel of her car. It was one of the only things she felt came very naturally to her. She was, simply put, a very good driver. Molly Irwin was the brain with long legs and strong morals, but she was an absolute menace on the road. She always felt like a complete waste of cells standing next to Molly Irwin who was always the smartest girl in the room so Daphne was quite pleased that she was a better driver. It was petty, but sometimes it was the smallest things that meant the most.
As much as she would have rather been in a dance studio somewhere either taking a class or working on her own technique by herself in front a mirror that taunted her, Daphne knew how important it was to her parents that she pulled up her grades. They had arranged the after school and lunch hour tutoring for her and she had seen tears almost fall from her very cool mom’s eyes when she once brought home a B on a pop quiz in geography. Glad to be finished and heading home, Daphne tossed her book bag carelessly in the passenger seat of her car as she climbed behind the wheel. Most of the teachers were gone at this point, leaving her little purple car as one of four in the parking lot. She put on a slow song that she had fallen in love with after breaking up with March. She dreamed of choreographing something heartbreaking in the most beautiful sense of the word, but so far only a few foot movements came to mind.
Daphne stopped right behind the sign, watching the one other car on the road in front of her private school as it rushed by. She checked around her before merging onto the road and heading straight. She had done the drive countless times whether being driven by a parent, a parent’s friend, or herself. Happily, she swam her head through the air ever so gently along with the melody. It was relaxing until her instincts kicked in and slammed on the brakes before her eyes and brain even had time to register what just happened. Out of nowhere, there was a person in front of her in the middle of Princess Street, just a few blocks away from her school. Daphne’s mane threw itself forward and she stared, shocked and winded, at March Hemmings staring back at her right in front of her windshield. He wasn’t just staring, he was looking through her with cold, but soulful eyes. She didn’t think she hit him. She hoped she hadn’t hit him. She was confident there wasn’t an innocent way to almost hitting your ex boyfriend with your car. Right away, she put the car into park and rushed out to where he was standing, reaching down for the skateboard that had slipped out from under him.
“Are you okay? Did I hit you?” Brushing her hair frantically behind her ears pierced with pink clay lotus flowers, Daphne asked, coming so close to him that he moved himself back one step.
“I’m fine.” Embarrassed, March refused to look at her. He felt like a moron in front of someone he was always trying to look good in front of.
She noticed his black uniform tie on the ground between them, the one he always wore undone and swept it up from the ground before offering it out in her open palm, “I didn’t see you. I’m sorry. I don’t even know where you came from.” Daphne started to look around to try and figure out his point of origin before her attention was brought back by his fingers fidgeting in her palm to take back his uniform piece. He had lost it enough times before for the principal to write to his parents about it.
“I didn’t see your car.” Poking his tongue into his cheek, March focused on the cut in his gums from biting down when he realized a car was coming. It wasn’t just any car, too. It was a car that still smelled like him it was so full of memories that he had a hand in creating.
“Do you want a ride home?” Daphne didn’t really want to risk any more awkward or confrontational moments with March, but her heart was still pounding in her chest and she wasn’t thinking straight.
“I’m fine.” Again, he told her, putting his board down and playing with it with just one foot. “I got to go.” Vague and cool as a gentle breeze above palm trees, he played. Daphne watched him skate away slowly after checking for other cars and then went back to her car, letting out an exhale to calm herself down before getting behind the wheel. She had just put her car back in drive when a loud and quick knock on her passenger window made her let out an honest one second scream. She put the car in park again as soon as she realized it was March, his face framed in the window. She looked at her car door panel to find the right button to roll it down, but before she could, he had the door open and was sitting inside. Daphne didn’t know whether she should drive or not, so she just put on her signals and idled.
“Can you, just,” Abruptly, the way he was doing everything these days, March put his board between his knees and confronted her. “answer a question for me?” He asked with a hand rubbing his messy hair underneath his beloved black beanie.
“I’ll try.” Daphne felt more nervous than she ever had before a math test or dance recital.
“Are you seeing someone?” The question nearly choked him on the way out. It had occurred to him that he might not want to know the answer. They had only been broken up for two and a half months though and it hurt him to wonder about. Daphne was completely stunned, giving him time to adjust his curiosity, “No. Are you seeing Ryan Vogel?” She was about to answer, but March’s mouth was open and he couldn’t close it even if he used both his hands to push his lips together. “He’s a St John’s guy, you know?” It was an all-boys school, one with a stupid rivalry with their school’s soccer team. “None of them are cool.” He was about to say bad-looking, but he knew that wasn’t a strong point to lead with.
“Iden goes to St John’s.” Blinking as rapidly as she was trying to think, Daphne finally managed to get a word in.
“Yeah, I know. They play soccer together. He told me he’s a spaz.”
“I guess I have a type then.” Daphne said without thinking and then bit down on her formerly glossy lips. She had surprised herself with her own burst of sassiness. She had never been very witty or good at giving someone their due shit. “Why are you asking me this, March? You made out with Raquel in the corner of the cafeteria, right in my view, and I’ve heard you’ve liked hooked up with the a couple freshman. I’m not confronting you about it.”
“Are you with him?”
“No!” Not that it was any of his business, but Daphne really didn’t want to drag this conversation out much longer. She longed for the days when they were children and he was shoving her as hard as he could into puddles. These days it seemed like he would rather die than have a pleasant exchange with her. She didn’t think she would be able to pick Ryan Vogel out in a crowd, but she wasn’t about to give March the satisfaction of knowing that.
“Well, he’s into you. He told Iden that he heard you were single and he was trying to figure out if you were girlfriend material or the splash and dash kind.” He rattled off, warning her in the harshest way possible.
“He sounds awful then.”
“Yeah, he is. I thought you should know. Spaz!”
“Thank you?” Daphne threw her arms down at either side of her, shrugging her shoulders. Her car was small, it just comfortably fit four people, but felt completely lost inside it at the moment.
“You’re welcome.” He threw open the car door, nearly hitting a van that was going around them. “And your hair looks great today!” As if it was an insult, he told her in a sour tone that could use a lozenge. March took his board and skated away from her again, slamming the door behind him. He left Daphne feeling boggled. In fact, she had to turn off the radio and drive silently the whole way home in order to clear her busy mind.
TWO
“I’m trying to put together something for Grace and I, a little getaway…” Michael explained while Calum drove them through Sunset Boulevard. It was a beautiful day, but he only let the windows down and kept the top of the blue convertible up. He had forgotten two year old Daphne’s sun hat back at the house they were renting and he also didn’t want to invite any unnecessary attention to the three of them as they went around running errands. He had a bass guitar to pick up from the shop among other things. Both he and Michael had decided to pick up fancy take out for their little families. “I don’t know when our schedule allows time.” Michael shook his head at his own words while drumming his hand on the outside of the car to the beat of the classic rock song on, arm slightly out the window.
“Lucky for you, your parents will probably take Iden and Emme at a moment’s notice.” Calum said while stopping at a red light. To call them doting grandparents would have been an understatement. They put Annemarie Irwin to shame with the way she spoiled her grand babies with lipstick kisses alone. Calum took the pause to check in his mirror at Daphne in her car seat. She was wearing her hair in a half pony, jetting out of the top of her head. She had fished out her Minnie Mouse sunglasses with red bows on the corner of the frames from between the car seats and put them on herself. His smile almost stretched off of his face at the sight of how cute she looked. He waved in the mirror and, much to his surprise, she waved back eagerly, her hand moving as quick as windshield wipers on a stormy midnight drive.
“Yeah.” Michael agreed, forever grateful to his parents for their help. “We just need it.” He said even though everyone and their dog knew that. “I’m thinking i’ll surprise her and we can go back to Bora Bora. Redo the honeymoon.”
“Well, it’s not like you guys really saw outside your resort room then anyway.” Smirking, he teased his best friend. Calum didn’t have to be on their honeymoon with them to know they spent almost all of it in the infinity pool having sex, in their bed having sex, in their oversized shower having sex, and in an elevator having sex.
“I wouldn’t mind it being like last time.” Grace was currently freezing him out. She was angry with him for not going over any of the tour dates with her as well as expecting her to go to every kid’s doctor’s appointment by herself while he was in rehearsals in Los Angeles.
“You two always work it out.” Calum told Michael as he was sure he had many times before. Sometimes, for fun, he and his other friends made bets at how long The Cliffords would go before making amends. So far, Calum had made two thousand dollars due to knowing Grace and Michael better than anyone else. It was always the same. She lost her temper due to something to do with Michael’s job, he rolled his eyes or didn’t understand why she was hurt, and then they were livid with one another.
As Michael started to explain that he was looking for a couple’s counselor before they went away, the sound of tires screeching and metal folding forcefully together took over and then all there was was smoke, the radio, and terrified tears from Daphne in her car seat. Behind them, a kitchen appliance delivery truck had smoked the rear of the convertible. The impact was felt through the entire car, but Daphne had been the human most affected.
“Fuck!” Ignoring the rule about swearing in front of his daughter, Calum pierced his curse through the air.
“It’s okay.” Michael was looking out the broken back window, glass everywhere in the back seat and covering Daphne’s little elastic blue jeans, but he reached his hand back out of reflex to offer her comfort.”Oh, Daffy. It’s going to be okay.”
“What the fuck?” Calum was out of the car, shouting over the hood at the driver of the delivery truck. He was just a teenager behind the wheel, wiping at his forehead in a panic and staring at the same mess Michael was.
“I’m real sorry, dude.” Outside the window, the driver barely popped his head out. He didn’t want to actually leave the safety of his car. Calum looked like he could punch right through the door with the veins beginning to show in his knuckles that were curled. “I don’t know, I just…I’m sorry.” He wasn’t about to admit to the man who looked ready to murder him that he had been texting when he crashed into their car.
“You’re sorry?” Calum pushed his front seat forward, listening to cars honk around him that only egged Daphne’s tears on, and then reached in to unbuckle her from the mess of glass she was sitting in. He had no idea if she was okay, her Minnie Mouse glasses still covering her face. Michael was out of the car by now, assessing the damage with his hands in his hair while a collection of people gathered around. “Well, I got a kid covered in glass, fucking terrified, you could have killed her, a crushed car, and you’re just sorry?” Calum roared while holding his daughter against his chest in both arms. He noticed only then that she was shaking. He didn’t know how to calm down and keep her calm, so he just began to bounce her up and down like he would when she was a baby, soothing her right before bed. She always just fell asleep in his arms when he did that, holding her against his bare chest and singing softly to her some song or another.
“Um, I can give you my info. Please don’t tell my boss.” The teenage driver could feel pimples forming beneath his skin. He had never experienced such stress in his life.
“Your company getting a bad Yelp review is the least of your problems, buddy.” Michael shook his head as he came closer to the truck, looking to act as a mediator in the moment. “Cal, hey. Go make sure she doesn’t have glass on her or anything. I’ll handle it.” He figured he would exchange information with the driver, call a tow truck or Grace or Luke, but he wasn’t going to let Calum kill the teenager with so many witnesses around. Not to mention that Daphne was still howling in his arms. Michael had never seen the usually very docile little girl use her lungs like this before. Her mouth was open and she was not showing any signs of lowering her voice.
“I’m going to fucking kill you.” With one hand on the back of Daphne’s head, still bouncing her in his arms diligently, Cal pointed his middle finger through the truck’s front window and started to walk off the road, heading into the TGIFriday’s they were almost in front of. Their bathroom would have to do for shaking any pieces of glass out of Daphne’s hair or off her beige Roots hoodie. “I know, Daffy, I know.” He cooed into her ear while his hot red face tried to keep from exploding into his own fit of screams. She was physically in his hands and he could feel her life being held there with all it’s weight. Calum felt guilty despite having done nothing wrong. He wasn’t even trying to figure out how he was going to check if there were any shards of glass in her eyes. He was just trying to keep her close and calm.
THREE
Even though she hadn’t been invited, Daphne still felt like she was finally a cool girl as she rolled up in front of the Great Southern Hotel. Someone Emmeline knew knew someone was was throwing a Halloween party there. She knew that even though she had just turned sixteen that there was no way her parents would let her go so she didn’t even bother asking. She stayed home, texted March, and hung out in her bedroom instead of going to the basement to watch horror movies with her mom and Aunt Cher who was visiting for a week before going to investigate other parts of Australia (and its divinely sexy locals.) Instead, Daphne played designated driver. Penelope’s dad didn’t like her driving his custom cars and Emmeline partied too hard to get behind the wheel. 
Costumed people were spilling out of the front of the building, not at all blending in with the other patrons who opted for regular wear and seemed annoyed by the party-goers. Daphne parked on the other side of the street and texted Penelope. It was almost midnight which meant it was close to Penny’s curfew. She knew Emmeline would want to stay out all night, so she came early unless Penny needed help getting her into the vehicle.
“I’ll just call him.” Crossing the road with limp feet in high heels, Emmeline slurred loudly. She was hanging her whole body onto Penny’s, the tall blond practically carrying her across the road to Daphne’s car. Penelope had on black jeans and a long sleeves black crew neck. If it wasn’t for the black ears on her head and lack of whiskers drawn on her cheeks, Daphne wouldn’t have realized she was dressed up as the world’s most underwhelming black bear. In fact, she sort of thought she was supposed to be her dad, Luke, back when he wore his hair long. 
Emmeline, on the other hand, was ringing in Halloween the way a lingerie catalog might. She was inspired by pineapple. One of her most favorite fruits, but if she hadn’t had a flashy bejeweled headband on with a leaf growing from the top, she would have just looked like Marilyn Monroe is a bright banana yellow cut out bathing suit and cheap glittery heels. 
“You’re not calling my Dad. I already took his number out of your phone.” Penelope grumbled as she carried the dead weight to the car. This was not her first rodeo with a drunk Emmeline. She was probably the most fun girl to go out with until she became work at the end of the night. 
“I’ll call him and say you’re staying with me!” Emmeline continued to push. It was an age old lie cherished by lying teenagers everywhere. Emme could never figure out why Penelope wouldn’t go with it. She forgot that most people weren’t raised by the iron fists of Cagney and Luke Hemmings, where rules were strict and followed. “Penny, please! Why not?” She whined. She wanted to go back and flirt with the man dressed as Karl Lagerfeld. 
“Because you’re too drunk to sound convincing, my mom will check with your mom, and I told you that I couldn’t say out tonight.” Penelope explained while struggling to keep Emmeline up right. They were steps away from the car so Daphne reached behind herself and fiddled to open up the backseat door. “I have brunch with the whole family in the morning.” She couldn’t remember which of her dad’s brothers was celebrating what, but regardless, Penelope loved brunch and she wasn’t missing a chance to gorge on mangoes, waffles, and whipped cream. With ease from practice, Penelope peeled Emmeline’s arm from around her neck and rested her in a reclined position in Daphne’s backseat before closing the door on her. From there, Daphne jumped up on her knees and reached back as Emmeline was sitting up to help buckle her in safely.
“Thanks for picking us up, Daff.” Penny chimed while hopping into the passenger seat just as Daphne was hooking Emmeline in.
“Daphne, call Uncle Luke. Tell him this -” Closing her eyes as it felt like too much work to keep them awake, Emmy began before letting out a hiccup.
“We are not calling my Dad!” Penny turned back and shut down Emmeline. It was close to shouting as anyone had ever heard from the surfer. 
“You’re a bear, right?” Starting her car up, Daphne asked Penelope as she pulled out of the parking job she was particularly proud of. 
“Yeah.” Penny pulled off her ears and hooked them around her right knee. “I wanted to be a polar bear, but wearing white around a drunk Emmeline…" 
"I hear you.” Daphne laughed. 
“Oh my god, I spilled wine on you like once.” Leaning into the window behind Penny, Emmeline grumbled. 
“Twice.” Pen chimed in, checking on her friend through the mirror.
“I was the one that it only happened once too.” Daphne added. 
“What are we listening to? Daphne, are you planning a funeral?” Emmeline hiccuped her way through asking while also finding humour in her teasing question. 
“This is very depressing.” Penelope had to agree about the ballad playing through the car. It was very different then the loud rap remixes they had just been inundated with at the hotel party. 
“It’s how I come up with ideas for dance class.” Feeling more than embarrassed, Daphne explained timidly and then reached around with one hand for her cell phone in a cup holder. She gave it to Penelope to change the song playing through Blue Tooth. 
“Ah, call your dad!” Forever relentless, Emme saw the phone in a blur and shouted. 
Penelope just ignored her and had an eighties playlist on in a matter of seconds, starting them off with Your Love by The Outfield, one of her favorites. No one knew why, but Penny loved music from the cocaine and spandex decade. She had been left alone with her Dad’s intense vinyl collection as a kid and found herself falling in love with her first crush, Sting, and then she became obsessed. 
“I’m dropping you off first.” Even though it made more sense to drop Penelope off second since they lived close to one another, Daphne didn’t want to risk Penelope getting in trouble by coming in after midnight.
“Thanks. Will you be able to handle the rowdy pineapple on your own?” Penny joked, reaching behind her chair to hold Emme’s hand. Drunk or not drunk, they were as close as sisters. Penny always felt like they were real soulmates and boys were just side projects almost like hobbies. 
“Yeah. I don’t know where to take her though.” Daphne admitted as she slowed down at the first sight of a yellow light. 
They had used the guest house at the Irwin’s place before. It had been Connor’s idea because he knew his parents never used it except to store backyard accessories and family friends they didn’t really like. He had smoked his first joint in there and lost his virginity last year on its couch which Penelope found repulsive since she had sat on that couch since unknowingly. Still, the Irwin’s might have been the most relaxed parents, but it was also the most work to sneak onto their property and Daphne didn’t know if she could do it by herself. She knew just dropping Emmeline off at her house was an option. She could just leave the drunk girl alone to deal with her own mess, but that didn’t seem like something a good friend would do. It left the Hood home or Penelope’s place, but Daphne knew she couldn’t use Penny’s since they had a busy family-centric morning ahead of them. She figured she would just take her home with her then. Daphne didn’t think her mom or dad would care. They would probably just be glad Emme was safe and, if they were upset, Daphne would have to handle it. She figured she would let Emmeline sleep it off on her canopy bed and drive her home before her morning jazz dance class. 
“My house?” Daphne checked in with Penelope before pulling onto the street where the Hemmings family typically resided. It was three minutes to midnight which made Daphne feel very successful. If she had hit one more red light, she would have been screwed. 
“Water, Advil, and keep her on her side.” Penny checked her pockets for her house key and clamped her hand around the door handle, ready to rush out. For a girl who snuck out all the time, curfew really stressed her out. The Bangles playing so loudly from the vehicle that it called for Luke to come to the front door, opening it as Penelope charged out of the car before it fully stopped. She waved goodbye to both friends, but only Daphne waved back as Emmeline was out like a burnt bulb. 
FOUR
There was enough hairspray in Daphne’s hair to make her a fire hazard as she sat in the passenger seat of her mother’s SUV. She had her favorite Roots sweatpants on from the last visit to her grandparents who lived in Canada and her basic black dance leotard with the shorter sleeves on as they made their way together to dance competition that was two hours West of Sydney. She made herself comfortable with her legs folded in a circle a shape on the seat, singing along to the radio. It was only with Skye that Daphne felt like she could one hundred percent be herself. She would rather eat her own foot before she sang in front of anyone. With her mom, she felt she was at her most fun. 
“Are you upset at March?” Turning down the volume from the steering wheel’s control, Skye asked as she noticed Daphne texting eagerly. 
“For not coming?” Daphne checked, throwing her hair back and feeling confused that none of her hair was falling around her. “No. I understand.” His parents had said 'no’ due to some family related commitment and Daphne wasn’t the type to push. 
“It’s nice to just get away us girls anyway." 
"Like old days.” Daphne recalled with a half smile as she returned to texting March. He had only just woken up as it was just about eight in the morning. If she knew him as well as she felt she did, Daphne assumed he would be going back to sleep soon enough. 
Back when she was small doing ballet and jazz exclusively, Daphne and her mother would be treks everywhere together to recitals, competitions, and showcases. Growing up, Calum was always away and sometimes Skye had to join him leaving her grandparents to drive her to lessons. The majority of time though, it was just her and her mum on the road. As much as Daphne would have liked her boyfriend to be there, it would meant more if her Dad had some way to be there. She knew he couldn’t control his schedule all the time and if he had to be in Germany, he had to be in Germany. As used to things as she was, it didn’t make them suck any less. 
“I wanted to talk to you about March anyway and it’s probably better than we are alone for it." 
Daphne’s already saucer sized eyes widen deeper. She and her mom could talk about anything, they always had. It was the worst when her mom was in British Columbia visiting family when Daphne first got her period at ten and was alone in a Starbucks with her Dad, Ashton, and Connor. Still, Daphne did try to keep some things to herself like the chocolate stash she kept in her bedside table and her sex life. 
Daphne put her phone down on the car seat through the space between her legs. Very slowly, she turned to give her mom her attention, watching as Skye cleared her throat with a splash of now cold coffee.
"Are you guys using condoms?" 
Skye was not stupid. She had known March since he was born and he was a teenage boy who had always been obsessed with the female form. With the way the two of them snuck around in the beginning, Skye figured they were probably rubbing one another down in a very intimate way. She didn’t like it and Calum really didn’t like it, but all Skye could do was make sure Daphne was informed and protected.
Daphne stayed quiet. She didn’t know how to freak her mom out and say 'no’.
"Is he saying he doesn’t want to wear them?” She investigated further, watching Daphne’s very done up face blush harder than the bright pink she currently was wearing on the apples of her cheeks. 
“No, Mom, March would wear anything I asked him to.” Well except for the colour orange, but that was a different conversation entirely. 
“Great, so condoms." 
"Mom, I’m already on the pill." 
It was Skye’s turn to bulge out her eyes. She hadn’t expected that response and not as bluntly as Daphne said it. 
"Oh? Okay, that’s good.” Turning off the freeway at the first opportunity, Skye hummed and nodded. “It’s really great you’re taking the pill, but um, can I ask how you got it?” Daphne was a sophomore. She was sure that her doctor would have checked with Skye first. 
“I went to the women’s clinic downtown." 
"Oh, okay. Well, I’m glad you were proactive." 
"Mum, I’ve been taking the pill for a while. Like…about a year, maybe.” It seemed as good a time as any to tell Skye that even if it made her grow as quiet as she had made the radio. 
“So, March is…” Skye didn’t want to make any assumptions. “Is he your…?" 
"Second.” It wasn’t a label that had to do with sentimental value or even March’s skill set, it was just the truth. “I’m his first though.” Daphne knew that it wasn’t important to her mum, but it was a fact she really liked. It felt special to be someone else’s first time. 
“You know that the pill doesn’t protect against infections, right?” She moved some flying dark hairs out of her view and checked.
“But he is my first and I’ve been tested.” Daphne hated school and she wasn’t particularly good at it, but she did pay attention in their health course. 
“Maybe, he’s had blow jobs or had oral sex with someone else.” Skye could not believe how clinical she was being. “Daphne, you should really insist on condoms in case your pills ever failed or if one of you…" 
"What?" 
"Strayed. People cheat.” Skye should know as she was the one Calum cheated on with many moons ago. 
“March wouldn’t do that.” Shaking her head, Daphne insisted what she felt was true. She even squished her eyes together in disbelief that someone would suggest otherwise. Truthfully, she saw the boy through rose-tinted glasses.
“Trust me, Daffy, its better to be safe. You can’t know what a person would do in every situation. I’m glad you trust him, of course, but you have to look out for yourself and if you can’t, you shouldn’t be having sex with anyone." 
"Have you been cheated on?” After two minutes of hurt silence, Daphne asked quietly.
“Not that I know of.” Until Calum, none of relationships lasted long enough for someone to be unfaithful. “A good friend of mine in college was cheated on. The guy gave her herpes.” Instinctively, Daphne wiggles her nose upward in a repulsed manner. “Yeah, that’s for life. It was really awful and she used to say he would never cheat on her.”
“I don’t think anyone in our grade has herpes.” Even though Daphne had traveled from coast to coast, her world was still just her school and neighborhood.
“It’s not the kind of thing you exchange at the lockers.” Then again, it had been a long time since Skye had been in high school and, even after earning her own citizenship, Australia sometimes proved to be very different than her native homeland. 
“Well, I don’t think March is going to give me herpes.” Mostly to herself, Daphne mumbled and picked up her phone. Without reading his response from before, she sent him an all caps message that simply read “NO HERPES PLS!” with a sad emoji at the end.
As Skye pulled in, she sighed,  "I don’t think he will either, but wouldn’t it be nice to be sure?“ 
Daphne didn’t look up from her phone though. She was anxiously awaiting her boyfriend’s answer.
"Daphne, I bought you condoms. They’re under your bed.” She came right out and said it. “If you’re going to have sex, use them.” She knew it wasn’t a matter of if though. 
Daphne was silent. She didn’t know how to move out of their sex conversation and into anything else. It felt strange for her to start talking about the pending dance competition where she was competing with her contemporary class and by herself which she didn’t usually do due to a lack of confidence. All she was thinking about now was how her mum was thinking about her and March Hemmings going down to bonetown. 
She started straightening herself out in her seat as her Mom searched through the concert hall’s parking lot for an empty space. 
“Weird. There’s a different 1970 Chevelle here.” Daphne would recognize the classic black car anywhere. Before she was born, it was what meant the most to her Dad. Well, one of the things. He had seen him physically flinch when she ran around it as a little kid, pretending to be a peacock or a bunny rabbit. “Its black and everything.” She pressed her hands against the window and looked behind her at the car that she had only ever seen in her own garage. 
“Weird.” Skye shrugged as she pulled into a tight spot. Daphne jumped out of the car and instantly stretched her arms high above her head before touching her toes as well. She needed to be limber for the rest of the day and she felt sore from sitting in the car for so long. She wandered around to the back of the car, lifting up the trunk door with some struggle. Daphne opened up her large dance duffel bag and glanced through it before tossing her phone and water bottle from the front seat inside. 
“That bag is the size of you!” Behind her, she heard a most familiar voice, but it wasn’t her mother’s at all. It was a kind scoff and sounded like it belonged to someone who spent a lot of time leaning and slouching. With a healthy dose of fear, the way she did almost everything, Daphne checked over her shoulder and spotted March standing right next to her Dad,  both of them wearing very proud smiles. 
“We gotcha!” Calum pointed at his girl as she came charging at him, jumping into a hug and squeezing his neck tightly. She knew how busy he was, so the fact that he had come to see her dance meant so much to the teenager. 
“I didn’t think you could come.” She sighed in his ear as she took weight off her toes and rested onto the soles of sneakers. 
“I drove up with March.” Her dad informed her as she side stepped away from him to hug her boyfriend, kissing him sneakily on the cheek. 
“Hey gorgeous.” March smiled into her ear. He wasn’t used to her hair looking so flat and sticky. He didn’t know what to make of it, but he had seen his brother’s hair before a swim meet. “Your dad said he would create a new way to murder me that no one’s ever thought of before if I hurt you. Can I drive back with you and your mum?” In as low a whisper as his voice could manage, March told her quickly. 
“My mum said you might give me herpes.” Daphne informed him back quietly before they both exchanged looks of confusion and fear in the parking lot. 
FIVE
He was punching out a text slowly, squinting at his phone as he did. Luke really never enjoyed football games and often wondered how on Earth he wound up with a son as athletically driven as Miles was. His knee knocked against Cagney, her eyes completely on the game even though Miles wasn’t even on the field yet, and he waved his screen at her.
“Penelope made this.” On his phone were three different photos of pie crusts. His daughter had messaged the photos to her Grandma Liz who had, in turn, sent them to her Dad. She explained that they were different crusts even though to Luke and Cagney they all looked identical, more alike than their two sons had at birth.
“Well, great. She is going to make our entire Christmas meal then.” Smiling, Cagney summed up and put her attention right back on the game after looking away for two seconds. Every year, either Cagney’s mother or mother-in-law made the feast with Cagney only being asked to make a Greek or tossed salad. One year, she was asked to bring a veggie platter from the store. She always asked Luke if they could do a meal with just their family, he always said 'yes’, and it never quite came together. This year she was going to get it even if it was her young daughter who would be working the stove and stuffing the turkey.
“Or at least the pie crusts.” He joked and put his phone back into the pocket of his leather jacket. It was important to Luke that he always looked like the coolest parent at these games. He wanted them to know that he was, or at least thought he was, a very cool dad.
As they watched the game, they stretched out on the bleachers. The two women in front of them vacated their seats giving both Hemmings parents room to rest their feet. Cagney found herself stretching her neck and as she did, she spotted Daphne in the parking lot many meters away from the field. She was carrying books against her chest in a hugging fashion and standing right behind her beloved purple car.
“Oh, look, it’s Daphne.” She nudged her husband in the arm, surprising him, and pointed across the field to where she had spotted the girl who had up until recently been a staple at their house. They had watched Daphne grow up just as they had their own troublesome trio.
“This is the longest I think we’ve gone without seeing her.” Luke mused and went back to watching the game, Miles finally on the field and running at light speed to defend the ball.
“Skye says she’s very quiet again.” Cagney informed Luke, not sure if it mattered to him. Even if March and Daphne separated, Cagney still worried about the young girl.
“She was never loud.” Luke frowned his whole face at the comment. It sounded absurd.
“No, but I think March brought out a little something in her. She softened him and he…”
“He snuck her into our house.” Luke laughed, amused with his own commentary. She didn’t have to say so, he knew that his wife thought he was hilarious.
“Should we talk to her?”
“Should we?” Luke had thought about it. He and Calum were practically brothers, but they didn’t talk like Skye and Cagney did. Calum wanted things to remain unchanged between them, so they avoided talking about their families since Daphne and March split up. They kept their conversations about everyone else around them or business. Luke wanted to tell Calum that March was struggling and he wanted to ask if Daphne was happy, but Calum made it clear that it wasn’t theirs to be involved in. At least not yet.
“I want her to still feel welcomed at our home even if Penny isn’t there or March is.”
“I don’t think March would like that.” Luke thought about how he would feel if his mom had invited his ex girlfriends or the girls who rejected him home for Sunday roast.
“You know what I mean…” Cagney tried again. “I want her to know we still love her. She probably thinks we hate her.” She wasn’t really about to invite Daphne over without talking to her baby boy first.
“Well we are Team March.” It was a recent draft for Luke who always fancied Daphne Hood to good for his boy, but he felt good about his position now especially with the bonding he had been trying to do with his youngest son.
“Come on.” Cagney jagged him again, this time lighter, and started to stand up to step down off the bleachers, excusing herself to the parents next to her the entire way to the ground.
Simply, Luke followed suit with his fist pressed as deep as they could go into the pockets of his jacket.
When they finally were close enough to Daphne that they could make out the tartan pattern of her school kilt and that one of her knee socks had sunk down to her ankles, Luke and Cagney plastered smiles on their face. Luke whistled out to her as he always had with the kids when they were small and she whipped around, her hair acting like a lasso in the strong wind. At first, Luke noticed her giant eyes as he always did, but Cagney spotted something amiss. Her smile vanished and was replaced with absolute horror.
“Who did that?!” She gasped at Daphne as she approached the back window of the purple car Calum had gifted his daughter with. “Tell me. I will call the principal now.” Having three children at Bishop Strachan Academy at once, Cagney had the number of a lot of different staff in her cell phone. It helped for when she needed someone else to drive Miles to his games or when March was facing suspension.
“I don’t know.” Looking down at the tips of her shiny black shoes with hurt and embarrassment, Daphne admitted in a hush.
In spray paint, huge black letters, it read 'FAT’ on the back window of her car. Daphne planned to pretend she was unaffected. She even had figured out what to tell her parents when they asked, thinking she would say that she never noticed, but internally and all over her face, it hurt like Hell. Luke and Cagney hadn’t even noticed that the windshield read, 'DUMB BITCH’ in wonky uppercase letters. Luke felt his heart sink low in his chest and he reached out instinctively to rub at her back. He knew that March cared too ardently for Daphne to do such a thing. At least, he hoped March was in charge of his emotions enough to not be cruel.
“Has this ever happened before?” Luke inquired. When Daphne was little and struggled with reading, Calum kept the challenge to himself. He was always private and proud. Luke would not have been surprised if Calum never mentioned Daphne being bullied before.
“No.” Daphne had been teased all her life, but nothing of hers had been vandalized. “I mean, I know when I was with March, you thought a lot of friends, but I don’t.” Biting down on her glossy bottom lip, Daphne told them. Cagney wasn’t surprised. Skye had confided in her about how shy her daughter was and how much she appreciated Penelope looking out for her and inviting her out. Luke, on the other hand, couldn’t believe someone not wanting to be around Daphne. She was the perfect companion in his mind. She was quiet and short, ideal for travel.
“You know what, Luke is going to take your car to the wash.” Cagney whipped out her phone, considering texting her youngest son who was currently at home and asking him to join his Dad. “I’ll drive you home, I’ll talk to your parents. I don’t want you in that car.” She didn’t want Daphne to have to look at those labels any longer.
“Aunt Keg, it’s fine.” Waving her hand through the air, Daphne lied. She was trying so hard not to cry that the four words burnt on their way up her throat.
“No.” Cagney gripped Daphne’s shoulders as Luke continued to rub her back lightly. “Daphne,” She drew the full moon eyes they all adored so much into her blue stare. “You and March might have broken up, but we did not. You are still as mine as Penelope is. We love you like our own. These people,” She motioned to the car beside them. “They are nothing. They are mean. You are good.” She poked Daphne in the shoulder to confirm what she was saying. “You have always been good.”
“Fuck those fuckers.” Frowning at the car, Luke proudly stated in her ears.
Cagney slid her eyes away from Daphne long enough to give her husband a crooked, but amused smile.
“What he said.” Standing up straight, Cagney pulled Daphne into a tight hug and held the back of her head. “I love you.” She promised as Luke wrapped his arm around Daphne’s shoulder and murmured the same affection to her.
“You’re going to watch the rest of the game with me. Give Luke your keys.” Cagney instructed. She was used to taking charge as she had a thrill-seeking daughter, two twin boys, and used to be in charge of four rock star’s hair. Just as she been improving Luke’s life every day since she started trimming his messy bedhead, she was going to try to make Daphne’s bad day better.
SIX
“Slow…” Daphne breathed out once March’s mouth left hers in place of the skin exposed from her open school blouse. He had waited around the parking lot for Daphne to finish writing her makeup test from a math test that she had failed at the beginning of the week. The sun was just slipping down when they left the building and, to celebrate, they found a mostly wooded area in a private park. Daphne parked her car between two trees and raced March into the backseat. She knew it wouldn’t be comfortable, but neither of them cared in the slightest. “Yeah. Like that.” He had been sucking on her skin like a vacuum hose before, but now he had her shirt open wider and was kindly kissing around her nipple like he might kiss her lips.
His almost clammy hand was racing up her leg, trying to find her lacy thong under her kilt, while the other hand fiddled with the button of his school trousers that he absolutely detested.
“I don’t want to be slow, Daphne.” There was nothing patient about the boy. “I’ve wanted you all damn day.” Pretty much from the moment she picked him and Penny up for school. He saw her smiling behind the wheel with her bright painted pink lips and her hair tamed into two dutch braids and he was aroused. He had missed every word Mrs. Kilty said in his first period because he was too busy trying to suppress his half massed penis under his desk. His mind was still guessing the color of Daphne’s bra. He had been wrong. It was beige and not a satin salmon pink.
Passionately, he gripped at both her thighs and growled before leaning in to try and unbutton the rest of her blouse with his mouth. It was nowhere near as easy as guys in movies made it look. Grinning, Daphne reached down and acted as an assistant before taking a leap from her last button to the zipper of his pants, reaching in and massaging the lump that had formed from the second they first kissed in the backseat. Shivering, March groaned at the first touch, his eyes focused on watching her as she reached into his tight navy boxer briefs. He hit his head on the roof of her car as he leaned his head back out of reflex to how good it felt when she stroked him, just the tip, into her mouth. It was a warmth he had only ever felt in a sauna before, but enclosed in the one important area. Daphne was laying down with her large breasts spilling from the cups of her most basic bra, inches away from her chin as she pulled him in with just her lips and tongue. Her hands found a place on either side of his hips, moving him closer and bringing him in deeper.
“God, you’re perfect.” His eyes fluttered shut and the corners of his smile met the bottom of his ears. He didn’t care that his phone was vibrating nonstop in the front seat. It might as well have been the humming noise that Daphne made when she went down on him. They harmonized perfectly and whoever it was, they could wait. He never wanted to leave her purple car.
SEVEN
It hadn’t gone as plan. Honestly, nothing in their relationship had to be honest. Calum Hood and Skye Pierre were not about to complain though. Finally, after failed IVF tries, fallen through adoptions, six miscarriages, and screaming tears on the shower floor, they had a little person to call their own. Daphne Amalie Hood came into the world underweight, premature, and with fluid in her lungs, but came into the world she did. It hadn’t at all been as they planned when Skye was put on bed rest while they were visiting her family in British Columbia. Daphne decided she had enough time inside the warmest place she would ever call home and began to arrive early resulting in her being in an incubator and having to have assistance breathing for two weeks. Calum and Skye were used to things refusing to go their way, but it didn’t change how much their bodies ached when they went back to her parent’s house without their daughter night after night.
Finally, after being stuck in Canada for two weeks, they were having the moment that Calum had dreamed about. It had been a blip in Skye’s plans, she knew they would have to bring home their child at some point, but Calum had really fantasized about carrying the chair up to their front door, bringing their little thing through, and showing them the place. He found a silver lining in their dramatic debacle. He was going to get to do the part he was most excited for twice. Once in the guest room of his in-laws place where they had kindly set up a bassinet and then again when they flew back to Sydney where her room that Michael and Calum had pulled an all-nighter painting powder blue awaited her decorated with little rabbit, mouse, and duck trinkets that Skye had collected during the brief moments when let herself believe that this pregnancy would be successful.
Thankfully, Skye’s parents gracefully understood the delicate situation. They allowed Calum to cover a room for them at a five star hotel so that the new Pierre-Hood family could have a real first day together. They even sent out a mass email to all their relatives asking for privacy and to hold back on stopping by or calling. After they stocked their fridge with premade meals and Perrier water, they took off and left the house empty for their daughter, her beloved boyfriend, and new granddaughter to use.
Calum had never driven so cautiously in his life and not just because he was using his mother-in-law’s old hatchback. He had the tiniest baby he had ever laid eyes on, let alone held, in the backseat with Skye. Daphne was all hair and eyes. She earned her thick locks from her mother and large soul searching eyes from her pop. As he pulled into the driveway of the bungalow that Skye had lived in throughout high school and college, he carefully checked in his rear view mirror before shutting off the car. They weren’t inside yet, but so far, everyone was still in one piece. There were yet to be any tears of any kind.
“We’re home.” In a whisper-shout, Calum tenderly exclaimed just like he had been dreaming about doing. “Well, a little bit. We’re at your grandparents house.” He chuckled to himself and Skye. It wasn’t quite as fun to say, but it made for good practice for when they headed home. If it was up to his family, they would already be there.
“She’s still sleeping.” Due to the hectic nature of her birth and past pregnancy ordeals, Skye kept putting her palm softly on Daphne’s chest, making sure she was breathing. She thought babies were supposed to fuss more, but Daphne was quiet. The doctors explained that in the beginning their miracle child was in enormous amounts of pain,  but she never made a peep. Her face was wrinkled and red, but Skye and Calum thought all the babies they met looked like that. At first glance, Connor Irwin appeared like a nightmare based demon until the fifth hour of his life.
“Let’s get going.” He had his hand curled around the door handle, ready and eager to head inside. He couldn’t wait for their new world to start spinning. Calum had convinced himself everything would change when they walked through the front door, but he noticed through the mirror that Skye wasn’t moving. She kept her seatbelt on and her attention on their slumbering daughter. “You coming?” He asked, watching her as she held her deep inhale.
“I can’t believe this is real.” She had said it so many times since Daphne was born. Reality had set in,  but she still felt too blessed for everything to actually be happening. They had waited for so long. They had hurt so much. Even though she was raised without religion, Skye had spent so many afternoons on the floor praying for some power to allow her the experience of motherhood that so many others had and did not care for. She was scared to move and lose everything again just as she had so many other times before. They had been so close so many times that she didn’t feel home free just yet like Calum did.
“She’s all ours.” Calum turned halfway on his seat and reached around to offer his hand to Skye. He wasn’t surprised when she hesitated removing her touch from Daphne to link her fingers between his. “We’re going to be this happy forever.” In that moment, Calum meant it. His eyes promised her that his words were true as they spoke into hers, his mouth loosened it’s smile to relax her own jaw muscles, and his hand squeezed hers tighter like it always did when she needed it most.
She hoped he was right even if just for now.
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old-stellar · 6 years
Text
Its warmer in Cuba
(((Its 11PM, I’m tired and randomly got the urge to write some Klance. Let me tell y’all that I’m writing this as it pops into my mind, I didn’t plan anything.. heh, well enjoy however long this is gonna be. Also I suck at writing so don’t expect this to be close to as legendary as Dirty Laundry or other Klance fics oof)))
(((Edit: this is long af and it’s bad af so that’s your warning. Turns out it’s more pinning Keith than actual Klance oof, maybe I’ll write a part two or something! As for now, it’s like a college au? I didn’t really introduce anyone else but Keith and Lance oops, the title sucks I know whatever. But enjoy I guess?)))
It was around 6:00AM last time Keith looked at the clock on the wall, but this was an hour ago. Now it was 7:00AM, and he was quickly trying to finish a term paper that was due for his geography class at exactly 7:36AM. Keith lived in an apartment, his room was a rather small one. He had a living room, a bathroom, and one room. In that small room, he was with his laptop only a few inches from his face, a large coffee cup was next to him, half empty at this point. He’s hair was a huge mess and he had bags in his eyes. Again.
Keith was no stranger to procrastination, he’d wait till the last minute to actually do something. Yet, he managed to turn in every paper on time and have a pretty clean room all together. How he can do everything in a mere amount of time is incredible, due to the fact that he rarely got more than 6 hours of sleep on the daily. Keith’s answer to this; Coffee. Rich, black coffee in the morning. He would have about 2 cups of coffee in the morning, then multiple cans of energy drinks throughout the day. He wasn’t exactly a healthy person, it’s a mystery on how he hasn’t died of all the caffeine he ingests yet..
Now it was 7:11am, at this time Keith was running late for his class. He quickly printed his paper, grabbed everything from his desk and shoved it in his old black backpack, ran out of the apartment, headed towards his car, and started the engine. At first his car didn’t turn on, the cold winter weather outside has left the streets icy and the engines of many old cars weak. After a few attempts, his car finally turned on. Keith sighed a deep breath of relief and made his way to school. It began to snow awhile after he started to drive. Layers of snow slowly fell on the city, covering it all in a shimmering White. Keith shivered, he forgot his jacket at home and the heating in his car didn’t work. He took a long, deep breath. Today was gonna be a long day.
The drive from his apartment to his school was only about 9 minutes away, but the traffic he encountered in the morning made him take 4 minutes longer. By the time Keith made it to school, it was 7:20am. He quickly parked in the student parking area, ran out of the car, and slammed the car door shut behind him. He had his old backpack on his back and he carried the folders and textbooks that didn’t fit in it. Keith began running to school, he turned around and locked his car with his key remote. The student parking area where he parks in is a good minute away from the school building he has to go into. As Keith sprinted to class, he slipped on some ice and slammed onto the floor face first. He weakly got onto his knees and felt that blood trickled from his nose.
“Agh fuck” he whispered and looked around. His folders and books were scattered a few inches from him. He wipped his nose with his arm and grabbed his stuff.
As he reached for his math textbook, he saw that a figure approached him. Keith whipped his head up and looked at the figure. It turned out to be a tall boy with beautifully tanned skin, glistening blue eyes, and dark brown hair. He wore a heavy pastel blue coat, a watch, a large pastel pink scarf, blue jeans and white shoes, which were dirty with dirt and mud. The student bent down, grabbed his textbook, got back up and looked at the cover before laying his eyes on Keith.
“Advanced math? That’s cool” He observed before offering a hand to help Keith get up. Keith stared at the student’s hand for a few seconds and ignored it, he got up by himself and wipped his nose again. Keith took his math book and shrugged, “Yeah, it’s pretty easy if you study and pay attention in class” he replied. They had an awkward silence before the student spoke up, “Oh, my name is Lance, Lance McClain. I’m a student here, I recently transferred from Cuba. Well, not exactly recently, I was here for the first semester of school as well. Haven’t seen you around though,” Lance held out his hand, Keith looked at it then shook it with his own hand. “Uh, i’m Keith. I don’t go out much” he stated and let go of Lance’s hand. In such cold weather, he was suprised of how warm Lance’s hand was. “What’s with the big ass coat and scarf? It’s not that cold” Keith added, he ignored the fact that he was literally freezing with just a shirt and pants on. “I’m not used to this cold weather… it’s a lot warmer in Cuba,” Lance mentioned as he shivered. Keith gave a tiny smile. Lance smiled back and looked down at his watch, he gasped, “Dude it’s 7:27!! I’m gonna be late!” He stammered, “See you around!!” He called as jolted away from Keith.
Keith watched Lance go. He knew he was also gonna be late for class, but something in him didn’t let him move until Lance was completely out of sight. After Lance was out of sight, Keith jogged to the school building, being extra careful to not slip on any ice.
It was 7:34am by the time Keith got to class, he placed his paper in the “Turn-in” tray by his teacher’s desk and sat down in his seat. Class started a few minutes later with a presentation on the board from a fellow student about the Andes Mountains. All the students paid close attention to the speaking student, Keith on the other hand, was in his own little world. He completely canceled out the presentation and was thinking about Lance. He didn’t know why he was so interested in him, he literally just met Lance a few minutes ago. Keith didn’t know why, but he wanted to get to know Lance better. Which came out of no where. There was something about Lance that intrigued him, maybe it was his Cuban accent, or his warm hands.. or his dark blue eyes. It reminded Keith of the ocean, beautiful but full of mystery-
“KEITH KOGANE!”
A loud voice exploded throughout the room, it interrupted Keith’s thoughts and he whipped his face towards the source of the sound. He realized that it was his teacher, Mrs. Lilac.
“Yes, Mrs. Lilac?” He replied shakily, “Keith, can you tell me how tall the Andes mountains are?” Mrs. Lilac asked, she crossed her arms and gave him a cold hard stare. The rest of his classmates turned their heads towards him. Keith gulped, the stares from the whole classroom burned through him. “I-I don’t know Mrs. Lilac, I wasn’t paying attention “ He stammered quietly. His classmates whispered and giggled quietly among themselves, Mrs. Lilac cleared her throat and all the students quit talking, they turned their head towards her. “Disappointing. Craig! Give me an answer” Mrs. Lilac called, and just like that, the student fired back an answer, “About 2,800 ft above sea level!” He called. Keith glared at him, He shrugged. “Pay more attention Kogane.” Mrs. Lilac stated. “Also.” She mentioned, “We will have a new student tomorrow, he is switching from another geography class to this class. His name is Lance McClain and I expect you all to behave and treat him with respect.” She scowled and went back to her regular routine of telling them what to do next.
Keith choked on air when he heard the words ‘Lance’ and ‘switching from another geography class to this class’ it took him a minute to process the fact that the boy that he met in the morning was switching into his geography class. Keith couldn’t help but make a small smile. He tried to hold back, but then his small smile grew into a bigger smile. Keith didn’t know why he was so happy to know that Lance was going to join him in class. Whatever was the reason, he looked forward to tomorrow.
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Text
Continuing Travels of Cophine, Chap. 5
This one’s mostly people talking.
Entire original work can be found here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12116799
“Julian wants to know if we'll join them for drinks in an hour or so.”
Cosima looked over at Delphine, propped up on pillows in the bed. Drinks sounded fun, even if Julian could be a bit much sometimes, and it could be a good chance to learn more about Delphine. But. “I'm Skyping with Charlotte tonight,” she said. “I don't really wanna push that off.”
“Oh, that's right.” Delphine pushed her hair back and typed a reply to Julian. She was mostly under the covers, still naked except for her underwear. They had spent most of the afternoon in bed together, mostly cuddling and dozing but also talking about their upcoming trip to Monterrey and what they wanted to do when they got back to Toronto. There would be Christmas festivities, of course, and meeting Cosima's parents, but there was also Gemma's birthday just after New Year's, and Cosima would have a lot to do for her dissertation.
Cosima set up her laptop on the desk in the bedroom a few minutes before eight pm, making sure there was no underwear lying around where the camera might catch it. Delphine was back in the bed, propped up on all of the pillows and updating their clone notebooks and wearing another one of Cosima's shirts.
While she waited for Sarah to Skype her, Cosima checked her email. There was another from her parents, confirming travel details for their trip to Toronto in about a week, and one from her advisor in Minnesota. They'd set up a meeting in January, on campus, but he kept not-so-subtly suggesting that her work would be going better if she, like, stayed in Minnesota to finish it.
Normally, when she had her Skype dates with Charlotte, Sarah would appear first and they'd update each other on any pressing bits of news, but tonight Charlotte's face came up first. Her hair was down, as she wore it more often these days, and damp like she'd just showered. She'd had a growth spurt in the past several months, making her look stretched out and gangly. She'll be as tall as the rest of us within a year, Cosima thought with a slight pang. Hell, she might even get a little bit taller. Charlotte wore one of Sarah's old shirts, though Cosima was willing to bet that Charlotte hadn't been the one who cut the sleeves off.
“I didn't know you liked the Clash,” Cosima said.
Charlotte looked confused, then looked down at the shirt. “I don't. Do you know where Rachel is?”
“Rachel... Duncan? No, I don't know where she is. Why?”
On the screen, Charlotte deflated a little bit. “Does Delphine know where she is?”
“Uh, Delphine and I know the same things, so...” Just to be sure, she turned to her girlfriend on the bed behind her, who shook her head. “Yeah, neither of us knows where Rachel is. Do you need her for something?”
“No.” Charlotte looked down at the keyboard and picked at something there.
“Well, you must've asked for a reason. What's up?”
There was a long pause before Charlotte gave a dramatic sigh. “I just want to send her a Christmas card. It's not a big deal.”
Unable to help herself, Cosima grinned. “That's so sweet! I'm sure she'd like a Christmas card from you.”
Charlotte shrugged. “She probably doesn't remember me.”
“Aw, what makes you say that?” She knew that Charlotte had spent a lot of time with Rachel on the island, while Rachel recovered from her aphasia, before Cosima showed up.
Another shrug. “She's never done anything to show that she remembers me. I know she's been here a few times since we've been back, but she never sees me.”
Since we've been back. Since she and Cosima had stolen the boat and snuck back onto the mainland, some time ago. “Well, I know Rachel was pretty busy earlier, and...”
“Felix says she doesn't want anyone to find her.”
“Right, yeah. That's what I heard, too.”
Charlotte started picking at a spot on her cheek, not looking up, and Cosima wanted to reach through the screen to give her a hug. Out of all of them, Charlotte rivaled only Helena in the extent of her orphanness. Sarah had bounced around as a young child, but eventually settled with Siobhan and stayed there, forming a strong family bond. Alison, Cosima, and Beth all had parents who, while not perfect, were still always their parents. Charlotte had spent ten years with Marion Bowles, who'd been frequently absent and was now presumed dead, followed by a series of guardians that included a complete stranger and clone sisters with a mess of their own issues. Cosima didn't even know where to start.
“If we ever see or talk to her, I promise to tell her that you're thinking of her,” Cosima said. “Okay?”
Charlotte nodded. The spot on cheek bled now, making Charlotte frown down at her fingernails like they'd done the damage all on their own.
“You wanna go wash that?” Cosima suggested.
Charlotte's mouth scrunched up in such a Leda way that Cosima was both amused and embarrassed. “No,” Charlotte said. “It's fine. Are you still going to teach me to swim?”
“Teach you...?”
“You said you'd teach me how to swim.”
Cosima wracked her brain until finally landing on a shred of a memory, of Charlotte in a life jacket and winter hat, on a little boat with no land in sight, worrying that she couldn't swim. “Yeah, of course I'll still teach you how to swim. You don't have to wait for me to get back, though. I'm sure Sarah or Alison could find you some lessons...”
“You said you'd teach me.”
A small noice behind her made Cosima turn. Delphine sat on the bed with one hand over her mouth, obviously amused and trying not to intrude. Facing Charlotte again, she said, “Well, I'm still happy to teach you if you want. We'll find a pool close to Sarah's and get you some basics before Gemma's party, yeah?”
Charlotte's face remained scrunched, but she said, “Yeah, okay, I guess.”
“You don't believe me?”
She didn't answer, but found a different spot on her face to pick at. In the background, Sarah and Kira were arguing about some television show that Sarah found “inappropriate.” Cosima wasn't going anywhere near that conversation.
“What'd you learn in school today?” she asked, steering them back to their usual topic. From everything that Sarah, and Charlotte herself, reported, Charlotte was excelling academically, but struggling socially. She'd never been in traditional classrooms before this year, never had to deal with her own peers in this kind of environment. Aisha, back at Revival, had been her first same-age friend. During their Skype chats, Cosima tried convincing her that she could learn as much from her classmates as she did from books or lectures, but it was a tough sell.
Charlotte's face relaxed a little bit, which Cosima took as a good sign. “Jennifer has games on her calculator that she put there herself. She said she put in a code.”
Cosima had been amazed, early in their Skype routine, to learn that Charlotte was at a high enough math level to be using a graphing calculator in the seventh grade. Now she smiled. “Yeah, that's a pretty cool trick. Did she show you how to code your own?”
“No. She acted like it was super easy, like everyone knew how to do it.”
“And you didn't want to ask her about it.” This was also a pattern in Charlotte's peer interactions. As well educated as Charlotte was, her classmates knew a lot of things that Charlotte was clueless about, and she was too shy or embarrassed to ask them to explain. “Maybe Scott can show you how to do that for your own calculator. I don't remember exactly how to do it, but he probably does.”
They talked a bit more about Charlotte's classes, a history project she had to finish that week, and her after-school chess club. Charlotte's mood improved noticeably by the end of their conversation, when she took out the heavy world atlas she'd found tucked in the back of a bookshelf at Siobhan's house and now used to track Cosima and Delphine's progress through the world. Sarah was only half joking when she suggested that Charlotte (and Kira, who helped with the project) could join a geography bee after all the Ledas were cured.
“You're here right now,” she said, placing a translucent yellow sticker over Mexico City. “Where are you going next?”
“Monterrey. Tell me where that is.”
“That's up here.” Charlotte tapped the city on the map of Mexico. “Are you flying?”
“Yes. It would take, like, all day by bus.”
Charlotte didn't put a sticker there yet. She would do so once they were in the city and not before.
* *
The next day, after spending longer than they wanted dealing with the airport, Cosima and Delphine arrived in Monterrey and took a cab to the bed and breakfast that Alison had reserved, albeit reluctantly, for them.
“What's wrong with a regular hotel?” Alison had asked when she heard about their plans.
“Nothing. Delphine's friend recommends this place, though, and apparently there's a discount for recommendations.”
“A discount for whom? You, or Delphine's friend?”
“Both of us. All of us.”
After finally getting Alison to agree that the B&B would be fine for two nights, Cosima suggested to Delphine that maybe they leave Alison out of the travel planning process for the next leg of their trip.
“I can do it all myself,” Cosima said. “Alison's great, but I think we both know that it's better done by someone on the ground, who can make decisions immediately.”
“Mhm.” Delphine nodded. “But then Alison will feel left out.”
Cosima told herself she'd broach the subject with Alison in person once they got back, after Christmas.
The bed and breakfast was lovely, owned by a French couple who'd met at the university there and fallen in love with each other and the location. The building was an old colonial style house with lush gardens and a peacock who strutted around as Cosima and Delphine approached. Within minutes of signing in, Delphine had struck up a lively conversation in French with Marie, one of the owners. Cosima's French was very slowly improving, but she still missed most of the conversation until Delphine gestured dramatically at their luggage and Marie responded with “putain!”
So she knows Delphine lost her luggage. Cosima thought. At least I've got that much. She would focus on French more when she wasn't listening and speaking Spanish every day, so that, hopefully, she wouldn't look like too much of a fool when Delphine took her to France in late April.
Behind the check-in counter, a baby started to cry, so Marie excused herself to tend to it. A moment later, she re-emerged with a little bundle draped against her shoulder, its tiny little hand waving around. Marie tried to apologize, but Delphine's whole face broke into a smile. From a safe distance, Cosima watched her girlfriend coo over the baby, whose name was Marguerite, but who got called everything from Margot to Rita in the course of five minutes. Cosima didn't know very much about human infants, but by her guess this baby's age was somewhere close to 0, since she lacked the ability to hold up her own head and Delphine supported her easily with one arm.
“Cosima, come look!” And Delphine was so, so happy with this baby, the way she'd been happy with Helena's twins back home. Her face just glowed, showing her dimples off for everyone.
Cosima looked at the baby's head, nestled in the crook of Delphine's arm, and for a moment imagined that it was Delphine's own child there, just to gauge her own emotional reaction. The results were mixed, a strange combination of boundless love and desperate terror. She looked up at Delphine again. “She's so little,” she managed.
“Yes, she's only a few weeks old. She's brand new.”
“You want to hold her?” Marie asked, and laughed when Cosima backed up so fast she knocked over the umbrella stand.
“No, I'm, I'm good.”
Delphine said something in French that probably translated to, “Cosima's afraid of infants” or “Cosima ovulates sand and would rather cuddle a lizard.” But she was smiling and her eyes were shining and, in that moment, if Delphine had asked for a baby, Cosima would've done anything to give her one.
When they finally settled into their room, baby Marguerite safely back with her mother, Cosima wrapped her arms around Delphine's waist and nuzzled the back of her neck. She'd thought about leading into the subject gently. Instead, she just asked, “Do you want kids? I mean, like, ever?”
She felt Delphine's laughter before she heard it. “Did it look like I did? Down there?”
“I dunno. Maybe. It made me curious.”
“Hm.” Delphine finished getting her night time things from her bag and turned around in Cosima's arms, leaning back against the dresser. “I don't want kids right now. But some day? Maybe.” She cupped Cosima's face in her hands and stroked her earlobes. “I've never craved them, you know, the way some women do, but I like them. I like babies.”
“I can tell.”
“I always expected that I would have them, I think. When I was much younger, I expected that I would wind up with some man and we would have children together, but that was always a vague sort of mental picture. I certainly never met any man that I wanted to have children with. I was always very careful to avoid any, ehm, accidents, when I slept with men.”
Cosima hummed and nuzzled her cheek with the side of her face. “Not much chance of that now. Accidental pregnancy, I mean.”
Delphine kissed her cheekbone. “No. No chance. It's good, though. I really don't miss worrying about that.”
For a moment, Cosima let herself wonder what it would be like to be able to get Delphine pregnant. Would she want to? Before she got far with that train of thought, Delphine nipped her ear and started rubbing the back of her neck.
“What about you? I know you're not crazy about babies, but you're very good with children. Do you want them for yourself?”
She hadn't seen her face when she asked the question, so Cosima tried deciphering the tone of her voice. It was gentle, curious, not presumptive. “I've never wanted them before,” she said. “That doesn't mean I want them now, but...”
“But?”
“I never even thought about it before this year. It's not like it's really been an option, you know?”
She pulled out of Delphine's embrace to change into her shorts and T-shirt for sleeping. For some reason, she needed to distance herself from Delphine for a moment, to protect her own sanity in case Delphine said.... said what? If Delphine wanted children, was that really so frightening?
“Why not?” Delphine asked. “Just because you can't carry them yourself doesn't mean you can't be a parent.”
“Well, yeah, I know that. That's not the only reason. I mean, I haven't really been in a position where I could... parent. In any capacity. It's hard enough taking care of myself sometimes.”
Delphine cocked her head and watched her finished getting dressed. “Do you think you're in a position now? To parent, I mean?”
“Like, right now?” It was her turn to laugh now. “Hell, no. We're not even in one place for more than a week.”
Delphine smiled at her, her eyes narrowed, and Cosima realized she'd answered a question addressed only to her with a reply that included both of them. She wasn't about to amend it. Whatever her future held, children or no children, she wanted it to include Delphine. She took Delphine's hand and pulled her to the bed, and drew the duvet over them both.
“So you said you might want kids. Would you be upset if you never got pregnant?” she asked her. “If you never had a baby of your own to cuddle and coo over?”
Delphine pursed her lips. “Upset? No, I don't think so. Perhaps a little disappointed, but not upset. It would be like, if you told me that I'll never see the pyramids in Egypt. I'd like to see them, and I'd be disappointed if you told me I never will, but it would be okay.”
“Okay, well, first of all, we're going to Egypt, like, next year to cure the two Ledas who live there, so we can totally see the pyramids while we're there. More importantly, though, pregnancy is a lot different than visiting a foreign country. A lot more life-changing, I think.”
“Yes, but what I'm saying is that right now they're at about the same level of personal importance. And we might not see the pyramids! Who knows, maybe our schedule won't allow it, or there could be some political strife that keeps us away. Anything could happen.”
“Yes. Anything but accidental pregnancy.”
Delphine giggled. She held Cosima's hand in hers, playing with her fingers and kissing the knuckles softly. “And how would you feel if I never got pregnant?”
The question caught her off guard. “If you never did? It's your body, love, it's not my place to say. That's your decision.”
Delphine's eyes sparkled when she looked at Cosima now. “In the end, yes, but I want to know your feelings. Let me ask another way. How would feel if I did get pregnant?”
“I guess that would depend on how it happened. Are we talking about a quick fling with some Egyptian guy in a pyramid when you're off your birth control, or are we talking, like, a visit to a fertility clinic, and a sperm donor?”
Delphine laughed again, perhaps at the image of random pyramid sex. “The second one, I think. As handsome as I'm sure Egyptian men are, the only person I want to have sex with is you.”
Her tone was light, but the seriousness of the topic made Cosima's voice heavy. She'd wondered about this before, especially whenever Delphine gushed over Helena's boys, but she needed to know now, exactly how compatible she and Delphine were on this issue. She needed to know, and she was terrified about the answer, so she stalled. “How would I feel about you getting pregnant via IVF? I... I mean, do you want to?”
“Cosima, I asked you what you wanted. This is all hypothetical right now. We're not making any decisions. I'm not going to get pregnant any time soon, no matter what else happens. I just want to know your feelings.”
My feelings don't matter here, she thought. Tell me what you want, and I'll try to follow along. She'd never talked to any other girlfriends about having children together. She rubbed her hand over Delphine's stomach, flat and baby-free. “It's your body, babe. It's your decision if you want to carry a child, not mine.”
Delphine searched her face, her own expression difficult for Cosima to read. Maybe I'm not ready to see what's there, she thought. Because she probably does want a baby, and she wants me to say I'd be happy with that.
“Look. If you got pregnant,” she said, “if you had a baby because you wanted one, and it made you happy, I would be happy for you. Does that answer your question?”
The frown tugging the corners of Delphine's mouth said that it did not. “I'd only want a baby if you were there to support me,” she said after a while. “If you were there to....”
To raise it with you? Cosima couldn't bring herself to finish Delphine's sentence for her. Instead she kissed her lips, holding her pouty lower lip between hers for a moment. “I told you before, I always want to be there for you. That goes for all this, too. If you want to get pregnant, some day, in the future, once all this clone stuff is over, I will be there. Maybe even with bells on. However -” Cosima pushed herself up onto her elbows to establish her point. “-can we both agree to keep any potential babies, like, at least a few years down the road?”
Delphine agreed with a smile. Toying with one of Cosima's dangling dreadlocks, she said, “I think so. But you brought it up.”
“Yes, I did.”
“And I think it's bothering you.”
She sighed and stroked Delphine's stomach some more. “Maybe it is. I just want to make sure you... that neither one of us feels like we're not getting what we want out of life.”
Delphine's eye brows rose. “I'm getting more out of life than I ever expected to. Anything else, any potential, hypothetical children would be... I don't know. I have a hard time imagining what that would even be like. But I am very open to the idea.”
Open to the idea. Cosima nodded. “Okay.”
“Are you?”
“Am I open to the idea of parenting? I am terrified of the idea of parenting.” She laughed despite herself. “But, yeah, I guess I could be open to it if, like, the circumstances were right.”
“What circumstances would you need?”
“Well, first of all, not moving all the time. Finishing my dissertation, getting a good job that I love...” The rest of the thought, the part where she wanted to marry Delphine first, she left unsaid, for now.
“Those things will happen,” Delphine said. “Not this year, maybe not next year, but soon enough.”
“Yeah.”
“And when they do, we can talk about what we'll do next.”
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stateofmybed-blog · 7 years
Text
Fairytale Man (Doctor Who x Reader)
Summary: You became a foreign exchange student to see the world. Instead, you saw the universe. With the help of a man in a blue box, of course.
Pairing: Teenager!Companion!Reader x Tenth Doctor (Platonic)
Notes: This is my first ever Doctor Who fic! I'm excited to take the plunge, as I'm finally getting back into the show. Disclaimer: There will be no romantic relationship between The Doctor and the reader, as the reader is only a teenager in this fic. I want this story to be centered around the main theme between companions and The Doctor: two great friends exploring the universe.
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The cold winter air invading Britain had everyone and everything feeling the same way: gloomy. Formerly plowed streets were beginning to be given a new thin blanket of snow, while the piles and buried grass hardly noticed nature’s far from warm gift. The clock was hardly striking 5, but the thick clouds overhead made it feel as though dusk was nearing.
Snowflakes clung to your coat and eyelashes as you walked down the sidewalk of a mostly forgotten road. Your black jacket and maroon bottoms stood out in the monochromic geography, and your hands remained cold despite their place in your pockets. The sidewalk ran alongside a park, a park that had grown to be neglected over the years. It was old to children, as some of their parents had memories of running in the open grass and bobbing up and down on the now rusty teeter-totter. And yet, they kept coming back. You were never sure why, as much of the city’s more intimate parts of history remained a mystery to you. An effect of being an exchange student, you supposed.
The school’s exchange program was still in a beta process, and you were one of the willing candidates right from the start. There was a small fee of $750 american dollars to gain access to the program, and while your parents thought it was a scam, it turned out to be blissfully true. You couldn’t quite remember the details - maybe the school wanting an easily accessible program while also gaining traction for previous structures? - though the price had always een clear to you. $750, and you had a dorm room the size of an apartment complex in a building you shared with other foreign teenagers your age.
Your parents had almost stopped you from attending. They first made the money excuse, as you were well aware that your family was a middle-class one. You quickly pointed out that after 5-6 months of saving the income you gained from your job at the small and local grocery store, to which they grew silent. Of course, that didn’t mean they consented, and you quickly realized this in the months to come.
By the time you had saved up enough money, you had lost track of how many fights you had gotten into with your parents. They made every excuse in the book, including your younger sibling and your future. You had given up on bartering in due time, but the fighting still ensued.
Ironically, the night you and your parents completely lost it was the night they agreed. It was an average night; your shift had finished and after the short walk home, you walked in to see your parents sitting in the living room. You made your way to the kitchen, because this wasn’t the first time they had left you no dinner, but a snide comment made about how many late hours you worked stopped you dead in your tracks.
You didn’t remember most of what was said, as all you could recall was the screaming. Things were said that no one meant, and at the same time, hidden things in both hearts and minds began to surface. Eventually, the three of you came to a compromise. It was surprisingly quiet, considering the circumstances. Still, with tear tracks on their faces and whispered words admitting emotional attachment weren’t enough to convince you to stay. While the program had driven a wedge between your relationship, you continued to be relentless as you fought for the chance to prove yourself. Perhaps that’s why you had yet to tell your parents that you hated life in England.
Back in America, you assumed every part of the way you lived would change. While the culture in England was incredible - almost too good for words - your personal (particularly, your social) life in the country had yet to grow desirable. You still spent every night in your room, wasting hours on the internet. On the good nights, you felt nothing. On the bad nights, you scrolled through your classmates’ social media accounts and felt a sharp pain in your heart and a shortness in your lungs. And, on the worst nights, you cried yourself to sleep, asking yourself and anyone who was listening why you couldn’t just be normal. It was easy to hide yourself in your studies, but it wasn’t enough to convince yourself you were okay.
That old coffee kiosk was still at the end of the road, like every other time you took this path back to the dorms. Mr. Jonathan, the owner, was decked out in his usual knitted red hat with a pattern of black on white stitched into the middle of the yarn made piece. His old grey coat reached the bottom of his heavy looking boots, and the familiar details brought some ease to your unsteady mind.
“It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it, sir?” You said once you reached the front of his mobile shop. You didn’t know much about Mr. Jonathan, besides his adult kids and him being a widower, but your heart no longer raced when you spoke to him. You always took that as a good sign.
“Beautiful?” he asked with a scoff. “Pretty, maybe, but colder than hell.”
You half smiled at his bitter reaction while digging in your pocket for stray change. You came back with three quid. “The only thing cold that needs changing is your attitude.”
“That’s a brave statement coming from someone ordering coffee,” he remarked, yet mirrored your amused smile.
You let out a laugh and dropped the coins onto the counter separating the two of you. He got right to work at filling a medium-sized disposable cup, which gave you a few spare seconds to look around and at your surroundings.
Kids zoomed past each other with cries of happiness, while others giggled and played on the structures. A curly-haired girl was on a set of swings, smiling widely at the boy who sat beside her. Parents filled the benches near the playground equipment, but on one stray seat near a tree that had shed its leaves sat a lonely looking man. His brown hair stood up in strands and rustled in the occasional wind in the same way his tan coat did, and he stared ahead blankly, like his eyes were fixed on something worthwhile. You tried to follow the trail of his gaze and found nothing.
“Your change, Miss,” Mr. Jonathan spoke up as he set a few coins on the counter beside your freshly poured coffee. You looked back at Mr. Jonathan, then to the stranger again. You then looked down at the coins and your drink, and after letting out a shaky breath, spoke.
“Can you make it a double?”
Mr. Jonathan raised his eyebrows, though he grabbed another cup from the piled stack. “A lot of studying tonight?” He asked, referring to your sudden additional order.
You shook your head. “No sir. It’s for someone who looks like they need it.”
“You mean it’s for that man who’s been sitting there for about-” he paused to check his watch, “-2 hours?”
“That long?” You asked as you pulled your arms closer to your body. He was right: the snow was pretty, but the wind was the monster it hid.
“I don’t think he’s moved a muscle,” Mr. Jonathan confirmed. “I have no idea when he got there, either. One second he wasn't there, and then… there he is. It’s like the man appeared out of thin air.” He picked up a disposable tray, and after setting the new drink in it, he placed yours in it as well. “Not sure he’ll want coffee, sweetheart.”
“I have a favorite teacher that I left behind in the US,” you explained, “and he told me that kindness travels greater distances than even the stars reach.”
“Is that all it takes to charm someone like you? A little poetry?” Mr. Jonathan teased, then grew more serious. “If he gives you any trouble, give me a shout, yeah?”
“Yes sir,” you nodded firmly, then smiled and picked up the tray. Your heart was thumping at the idea of offering a complete stranger - a weird stranger, at that - a coffee, so his words helped soothe you.
You walked through the open space of the gates around the park’s perimeter, and you hardly even noticed the people staring at you. You couldn't remember when you became the apple of the public eye, though over the years, it was something you had gotten used to. You stopped feeling the urge to question it, even to just yourself, a long time ago.
You were close to reaching the stranger, and now that you were closer, you could see red scrapes and a few cuts decorating the side of his face. This only increased the shaking in your already nervous hands, but you simply trudged forward through the snow.
He glanced up at you, just for a moment, and your feet stopped moving. You immediately froze, like a child being caught in the middle of disobeying. You felt a small breath brush over your parted lips, and couldn’t help but notice that the man’s expression had yet to change. His eyes, they softened quicker than snow stuck on clothing and skin melted, but his face still appeared colder than the flakes falling around both of you.
After a small burst of courage, you closed the small gap of space between you and the empty space on the bench. You pulled at your coat the moment you took a seat and let out a forced sigh that you hoped sounded content, or at least relaxed.
“I’m used to the snow,” you started and set the drink holder in the space between you and the stranger. “It’s the rain that was hard to get used to.” You picked up one of the two identical cups and offered it to him.
The man looked over to you, and then to the cup of coffee. Your extended hand was shaky and sweating, though not from the warm beverage you were holding. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of the stranger contemplating, he accepted the drink. His face split into a half smile, one corner pulling up more than the other. You felt yourself relax a little.
“Ahh, well, that’s England for you,” he took a sip of the coffee. “Makes the sunny days worth it, doesn’t it?”
“I haven’t seen too many of those,” you admitted. “I’ve only been here since September. But, to be fair, I don’t know much of anything about England. Besides the things everyone knows.”
“All it takes to know is the want to know,” he informed, and spoke with a ease that almost seemed impossible. “The city, the culture, the legends… they’re living and breathing, right around you.”
“I’m the only thing stopping me,” you said, and maybe you shouldn’t have said it like it was a fact. Funny thing was, you practically knew it as one. “That sounds about right.”
“Though I suppose that’s easy for me to say,” he began to counter his own statement, “I’m the one who’s always leaving. But I always come back, don’t I?”
“Sounds like you grew up here,” You replied, referring to his accent. “I’d find it hard to abandon my hometown, even though I’m not always there.”
“Many, many parts of me grew up here,” he agreed, and although you were confused, you somehow understood what he meant.
“You must be good at telling stories, then,” you smiled. Simply the way he spoke gave this off: that he’d always have something to say.
He smiled as well, in the same manner he did before, but something about the expression didn’t add up. Maybe it was the change in his eyes, or that it didn’t seem as genuine. Regardless, spotting the difference was easy. “It’s what I do for a living.”
“What is it that you do?” you asked, taking your first drink of coffee. The mix of cool air and time between made it the perfect temperature. “Novelist, historian, teacher..?”
“I guess you could say I’m all of the above.”
Normally, you would have dropped the conversation upon hearing this, or at the very least, frown. This time, however, you rather continued to stare at him, though you eyes did narrow slightly in confusion.
“Who are you?” You asked, then rephrased, “what’s your name?”
The stranger hesitated for a moment, then replied with, “The Doctor.”
“That’s a fairytale name, Doctor,” You remarked, though didn’t question his answer.
He grinned like he knew something no one else did. “I’m a fairytale man.”
You pondered for a moment, wondering exactly what he meant by ‘a fairytale man’. Were you right in guessing he was a writer? Or maybe he implied he lived in his head, building castles that could never exist. Regardless, you were certain of one thing: this Doctor man was only giving you enough to keep you curious.
Your phone buzzed in your pocket, which to your surprise, made both you and him jump in surprise. You fished the device from your pocket and read the preview of a text message from your roommate: Imani. Without opening the message, you knew what she was asking of you.
“That’s my queue,” you said as you stood up, “my roommate wants me back for dinner. Says I spend too much time out and about.”
“I need to pay you back,” The Doctor protested, and you weren’t surprised when he dug around in his pockets, only to come back with nothing.
“You can tell me one of your stories sometime.” You offered a method of payment without even thinking before speaking. What were the odds of you ever seeing him again? And before that, what were the odds of him even ending up in this park again?
Somehow, the answered satisfied The Doctor, because he looked satisfied as he nodded a single time. You offered him one last smile, this time a one with a closed mouth, and you walked back around the playground and out the gate.
You walked for a few more steady blocks, nothing but the wind and falling snowflakes to keep you company. You were more than okay with this; walking past strangers was far from something you enjoyed.
You turned the corner beside the unused and currently withering courthouse, and the second you did, something felt off. Of course, to you, something felt wrong. So, you quickened your pace and crossed by the front steps to the abandoned courthouse in half the time it would usually take you. This didn’t stop you from noticing the big blue box with glowing text at the top sitting in the alley.
After retracing your steps and getting a better look, your heart began to thump loudly in your ears. Your throat tightened with anxiety, and your chest jolted at your sudden gasp for air.
If there was one thing you didn’t like, it was change.
“Hello?” you asked reluctantly. You couldn’t tell if you were grateful or even more nervous when no one answered.
‘Police Public Call Box’. That was the illuminated font near the top of the box. You could remember reading about the sort of thing before, though your head began to ache trying to recall from where. Maybe the idea was vaguely mentioned in a textbook before, or you briefly read about it in a news article. Unlikely, sure, but not impossible. The only thing impossible in this situation was that was was here, right before your very eyes.
“This isn’t supposed to be here…” you said, more to yourself than to anyone potentially in the box. It was jammed between two uninhabited buildings, and of neither were a museum. So what was the beat up and ancient looking thing doing there?
One of the two doors creaked open, and you jumped backwards the second your heart leaped into your throat. You were breathing like you were coming down from one of your rare panic attacks, chest heaving and limbs shaking.
You don’t know what possessed you to lean forward, only for a split second, and push the door fully open.
You watched the door creak open the rest of the way with your back pressed to the brick wall farthest from it. You couldn’t see anything inside because of this, but you were at least thankful that no one came out.
Each step you took was hesitant and quieter than a mouse scurrying across a kitchen floor in the dead of night. Your eyes were fixed on the newly ajar door, ready to detect any change of movement. You reached the the door in less than five paces, and not even your overly analytic head could have prepared you for what was inside.
A metal ramp with matching railings lead up to a strange, somewhat circular device in the middle of what appeared to be a massive room. The walls met at the top to create an unsteady dome, and you could see that there was depth beneath the metal floor that held the texture of a fire escape.
You slammed the door shut and practically ran out of the alley, pulling at the edges of your coat as you trudged through the snow and into the school’s dorm complex.
“You expect me to believe you spoke to a stranger on your own free will?” Imani asked.
The two of you were sitting in a local diner, one that served breakfast until noon. The clock was drawing closer to 11:00 AM, and while you would normally be eating lunch around then, a finished platter sat in front of you, waiting to be taken back to the kitchen. Imani was digging into her third plate of pancakes.
“He was just… sitting there,” you said, tapping at your mug of coffee in thought. “He looked so alone.”
“What’s his name?” Imani asked through a mouthful of her brunch, “you never told me.”
“He called himself The Doctor,” you replied, “Whatever that means.”
“Sounds creepy,” Imani thought aloud. “What kind of man has a title and no name?”
“What kind of exchange student goes out for lunch rather than finishing her homework?” You countered with a false grin. You were desperate the change the conversation.
“You stood me up at dinner. Again,” Imani pointed out, “this is the only way you talk to me. So, I do it.”
“If I get a free meal out of it, it’s a win,” you smirked, and raised your coffee cup to your lips. You took in the grounding scent and felt the warm steam tickle your nose. Finally, you took a sip, and felt the hot liquid rush down your throat and into your stomach. After setting down the mug, you did something you did every time you were in public: you scanned your surroundings.
In the left corner seat sat a student typing away at a laptop. Books were sprawled on the table before them, along with a large mug and a clean plate that sat close the edge. In the seat next to the student sat a charming elderly couple. The woman was making pleasant conversation to the listening man across from her, who seemed to be multitasking by also eating a meal.The table beside the couple seated a young mother and her baby that occupied the stroller she was rocking back and forth. Satisfied, you shifted your focus to what was happening on the other side of the cafe’s massive front window.
Cars whizzed by quickly compared to the people that filled the sidewalks. Crown Street - the one you were currently on - was practically made up of shops, and thus made it one of the busiest streets in Kensington. You didn’t mind this, as you lived a considerable distance away from the crowded road.
Anyone walking was always in a particular rush. You’d lost count of how many people had shouted into their phones or shoved past people due to their quick pace. Life doesn’t bend to you either, you thought. Maybe that should have made you feel a sense of relief. It didn’t.
Your eyes followed a man dressed in a suit who had a girl in his arms and a boy by his side. The girl was reaching off of him so she could reach the boy, who was jumping up to play with her. The man, who you supposed to be their father, was speaking into his cellphone. Perhaps he was bargaining with his boss for his tardiness, or with a babysitter who failed to show. Obviously, you would never know, and your propositions ceased when they passed by the right side of the window. You had been caught up in theorizing that you almost didn’t notice that The Doctor was leaning against the side of a building from across the road.
He was staring at you, and it made you wonder for how long he had been standing there. Normally, you noticed the sort of thing, so to be completely oblivious concerned you. Him being so close to you without you realizing along with him having somehow tracked you down only made your worry increase.
“That philosophy paper’s due date was bumped to Friday, by the way,” you lied as you ran a finger along your mug’s rim. “Ms. Hayn wanted me to pass the message along.”
“Are you serious?” Imani almost choked on her pancakes. Your expression didn’t change, which made her jump out of her chair. “I’m heading back,” She declared while tossing £7 onto the table. That was more than enough money, but you weren’t about to get in her way.
“I’ll meet you back there,” Imani decided, and like a bolt of lightning, she was out the door and up the road.
You matched the amount of money she laid down to cover both your expenses as well as a tip. You picked up your backpack, the smaller one that you used as a traveling bag, and found your way to the door.
Just as you had expected, The Doctor hadn’t moved. You were outside, only aware of the winter month because of the winter wind, and he had yet to move a muscle. You were starting to wonder if this was a reoccurring theme of his.
There was a break in traffic, and against your better judgement, you crossed the street. A car coming closer laid on their horn when you passed the line and walked closer to The Doctor, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. They weren’t about to reach you in time, and you weren’t about to get hit by a car. There wasn’t much else to worry about.
“What are you doing here?” You asked the moment you stepped onto the sidewalk. “Have you been following me?” You continued, and couldn’t help but notice that the cuts and scrapes on his face had disappeared without a trace.
“You opened the door,” he said instead, which made you frown in confusion. The Doctor shimmied aside, and once again, you laid eyes on a mysterious blue box.
“Do you always park it in alleys?” You asked, looking over the box. Nothing about it had changed from the previous night. “How do you move it, anyways? I don’t see a tow truck.”
“I normally don’t have to,” he said. “Park it in alleys, I mean. Hardly anyone looks twice. Well, you being the exception. The only one, actually. I don’t think anyone’s done that before.”
“You mean no other passerby has opened it?” You raised your eyebrows. “It’s a blue box taller than a man in the middle of London! How can people not be prodding at it?”
“They aren’t curious enough,” The Doctor explained. He spoke in a tone that made everything sound obvious, yet he didn’t seem to be condescending. It was a conflicting combination. “But you are,” he continued as he stood up straight, “and i don’t even know your name.”
“Y/N,” you told him. “My name is Y/N.”
“Well, Y/N,” The Doctor started, and he was smiling like there was something to be satisfied about, “I still have to pay you back.”
“You can tell me a story,” you reminded. “You’re good at those, aren’t you?”
“Anyone can tell stories,” He shrugged off your remark. “It’d be more fun if I showed you one. Don’t you think?”
“My friend’s waiting for me,” you nodded your head to the side Imani ran off in, “back at our dorms.” You wondered how far he would push it.
“The one that ran off? I could get back sooner than she can. And we could have some fun doing it. Good ol’ fashion, running for the hills fun.”
“That’s a big promise, Doctor,” you said. You couldn’t believe you were even considering taking off with him god knows where.
“It’s a promise I can keep.” He was back to leaning against the wall. “That’s what’s important, don’t you think?”
“Maybe,” you replied, because maybe it was. Who were you to decide that? The Doctor didn’t reply, which made you glance down at your feet, and then back up to him. “Well, what are you waiting for? Show me a story.”
He grinned like a child in Christmas Day and practically jumped into the box. The door, however, stayed open from his actions, and you found yourself setting one hand on the closed one as you stepped into a place that made no sense.
If all else fails, you had a can of pepper spray in your backpack.
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terresdebrume · 5 years
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Sok sabay thomada
Today was nice! I woke up cold as heck, which still makes me snort whenever I think it because hello, Cambodia! But one, I’ve been living here for a little over two years now, which means I’m used to the temperatures nowadays and, two, the temperature in my apartment dropped below 30°c, which basically never happens. And that’s measuring close to the kitchen counter, where my pasta is cooking. So, yeah, pretty cool weather here in Phnom Penh, although the colleagues who only got here last September are still firmly in the ‘no, it’s a nice change’ club x)
I had a physiotherapy appointment, the payment for which is coming up and looking a little painful (not to self: definitely do not skip on renewing insurance tomorrow) but my ankle continues to improve! I hadn’t even realized it had never gone back to a healthy state after my first couple of motorbike accidents, but now that it is getting there again I can definitely feel the difference! I’ve got half a mind to ask if we can have a look at the other one to make sure everything is fine before we finish up to be honest—sure, it might make for another appointment or two, but I’m already $400 in so $40 more doesn’t sound that terrible at this point.
(I say that, but I also know that I have over $1550 of programmed spending this month and boy, am I glad I saved $600 specifically for this purpose last month because that’s the only thing that’ll keep me from going in the red this month. I miiiiiight be able to save a little bit, if I’m really good about not ordering food and sticking to the cheaper options while out for lunch.* Luckily for me, my khmer teacher is also a colleague so she doesn’t mind waiting for me to pay her, which means at worst I might be able to push that particular sum back to the end of February when my pay drops in. Or, you know, I could take a break in studying khmer altogether which…well. I’m considering it.**)
Anyways, I wanted to talk about today, not the state of my finances x)
So, today was nice. Physiotherapy went fine, work was low-pressure and pretty neat, even though I didn’t manage to do half of what I was supposed to do, and I don’t think I’m going to do it tonight either (but tomorrow morning, yeah, probably—I’m planning on leaving the house early anyway). It is definite proof that I cannot afford not to work on work stuff on the weekends if I want to stay on top of it because the time I actually spend at my workplace is taken by other things and so there’s always something left to do. (I haven’t started dreaming about grading essays late, yet, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it happened through the class session.)
Even so, the children’s class was nice! Okay, so I clearly hadn’t prepared enough material to last an hour and a half (I still don’t know how to hit that balance) but considering we lost about 20minutes on administrative problems (after which the kids were, of course, impossible to calm down) and other class-related-but-not-teaching things it ended up being fine—both of the groups/levels had material left to go over, so that should make my next class easier to plan which: hurray!
Tomorrow, I get to see my teenager class, for whom I expect to have a lot of creation to do through the session because the second half of the program is ridiculous and I have official permission to more or less ignore the book (while staying within the themes...so if anyone has ideas for language-learning activities that involve geography, history and music*** I’m all ears xD) which is great but is also going to mean so. Much. Work. And anyway, this class and I don’t mesh. I don’t think it’s particularly their fault, more that they’re a very quiet class with a solid half clearly not wanting to be there and I don’t know how to deal with that…hence, not meshing.
Although the part where I’m taking them to a concert on March 1st seems to have helped.
Oh well. We’ll have time to worry about the bad parts tomorrow! Right now I’m going to focus on the fact that my children’s class did not descend into complete chaos and be satisfied with that :P  
*I know food shouldn’t, ideally, be where I try to save money, but it’s my largest expenditure aside from taxis, and those I have to use to go to and from work. I’m trying to clear some space on my phone so I can get the cheaper app back, but that’s a really long run thing as it’ll only save me about $0.50 per ride. So, eating more humbly it is.
**There are cheaper options for studying khmer around, but I do enjoy my classes with Reaksmey, and I don't want to change teacher when I finally feel like I'm making progress on my khmer reading :/
***I’m skipping the math part. There’s a reason I didn’t become a math teacher.
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breeeliss · 7 years
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[Femslash February]: Valentine’s Day
*posts the valentine’s day prompt two weeks after valentine’s day*
this is the last prompt for alyanette though! tomorrow is a new week of prompts with a new femslash pairing. wonder which one it’ll be....? (i actually do not have the answer to this question pretend i’m being clever and secretive)
Day 14: Valentine’s Day (Alyanette)
Words: 1949
Link to Archive of Our Own: [AO3]
[Previous: Theme Park] [Next: Baking]
Somewhere in the back of Marinette’s head, she knew she should’ve heard her phone alarm by now. She was supposed to have set it for half an hour so that she’d have enough time to get ready for school and actually make it on time. It certainly felt like half an hour had already passed. Probably time to start getting dressed. 
Or. She could....not do that.
Yeah. That sounded better. 
Alya laughed. “I think you left your phone on Do Not Disturb again. It’s definitely been over half an hour.”
Marinette quieted her with another kiss, smiling when Alya groaned into her mouth at the feel of Marinette’s nails dragging along Alya’s back, pushing her tank top up inch by inch and revealing more warm skin for her fingers to knead into. “Alarm didn’t go off, doesn’t mean we have to get ready,” she muttered against her lips. 
“That....is a very poor argument,” Alya countered. 
“I can give you a better one.” She leaned up and trapped Alya’s bottom lip in between her own, gently biting down until Alya sighed out, growled a curse that Marinette didn’t quite hear, and kissed her back harder. Marinette smiled as she licked along Alya’s lips and moaned when Alya’s tongue slid gently against hers, making her toes curl into the sheets of her bed and grip the backs of Alya’s thighs. She could feel Alya tangling her fingers in her hair and only briefly bemoaned the hard time she was going to have combing out the tangles later. She was about to tell Alya to calm down with it, but then she started shifting and moving her hips against Marinette’s, and all coherent thought had zipped out of her head. She finished kicking her sheets and comforters to the foot of her bed to give them more room while she marveled out how her body was shivering and burning all at the same time. 
Marinette was barely aware of Alya’s cell phone ringing next to the pillows piled around them. Alya scrambled around for it blindly, answered the call, and put the call on speaker phone. Marinette took advantage of Alya’s distraction and started kissing, licking, and nipping down the side of Alya’s neck. She snickered when Alya accidentally let out a moan and shifted away from the slap Alya left on her shoulder. “This better be good.”
“You were the one who told me to call you twenty minutes before school started,” Adrien defended over the phone. “I have done that.”
“Ugh, school is starting to sound increasingly more unappealing the more the morning goes on.” Alya bit her lip and sighed out her nose when Marinette started leaving small love bites on her collarbone. “Make sure I can cover those up later,” she whispered. 
“No promises,” Marinette smirked. 
“Oh my God, are you guys making out?”
“It’s Valentine’s Day,” Alya defended. “You didn’t see me -- ahh -- complaining about the kissing photo you and Nino posted on Instagram this morning. S-Super corny caption, by the way -- mmhm~ -- low-key judging.”
“Stop groaning into the phone, I’m in school. Nino can hear you and he’s sitting next to me.”
Nino leaned in closer to Adrien’s phone. “Stay safe ladies!”
“Stop encouraging them,” Adrien scolded. “Look, you guys have like fifteen minutes to get ready. Marinette’s running on ten lates this month. I doubt she needs another one.”
Marinette whined loudly. “But school is boring and Alya isn’t.”
“You guys will have two hours during lunch pause to run back home and keep making out. Nino and I won’t even be offended. We promise.”
“If anything we’re probably going to run back to Adrien’s place and -- ”
“Do nothing! Nothing that is anyone’s business but ours!” Adrien squeaked out. “Look just, hurry up, alright?”
Alya rolled her eyes. “Fine, fine, we’re coming.” She hung up the phone and threw it over her shoulder and back onto Marinette’s mattress. She gently pushed on Marinette’s chest until Marinette flopped back against her pillows, pouting marvelously. 
“I don’t support this.”
“Babe, if you’re late again, your parents are going to get another note home, and you’re going to get grounded again.”
“Good. You can climb into my window and stay in bed with me all day while we cuddle and make out and eat all the Valentine’s chocolates we bought yesterday.”
Alya paused for a moment. “....don’t make me consider that! We’re going to school. That’s final.”
Alya started climbing down the steps from Marinette’s loft while Marinette kept complaining. “But Moooooooommmmm!!!!”
“Stop throwing a temper tantrum and get dressed,” Alya laughed. “We’re going to be so late.”
Marinette sucked her teeth loudly and stomped down the stairs from her bed, grabbing up the brush on her vanity and roughly pulling it through her hair. “Valentine’s Day should be a holiday. We should get the day off.”
“You only say that because you aren’t single. This time last year you were saying we should ban it because it’s a capitalist and consumerist holiday.”
“Alright,” Marinette shrugged. “We ban it, still get the day off, that way single people can do their thing, and we don’t have to leave our bed.”
Alya sorted through Marinette’s closet and grabbed a tank top and hoodie that she’d left here the last time she stayed over. “That doesn’t make sense and you know it.” She stared in the mirror hanging on the door of Marinette’s wardrobe and prodded her neck. “Thanks for the bruises, by the way, you little trouble maker.”
Marinette grinned back at her sweetly. “They were placed there with love.”
“Fine, I guess it’s just a hoodie and jeans today.”
“You look good in hoodies and jeans, I don’t know why you’re complaining.”
“It’s because I have to wear hoodies literally all the time because of you. Exhibit A.”
“You sounded pretty happy about it a minute ago.”
“Ignoring you!”
Marinette giggled and started packing her backpack while Alya shuffled through all of her homework sheets and bemoaned the fact that she’d completely forgotten to do her geography homework. They were definitely going to be a little worse for wear today -- Marinette’s hair was a lost cause and Alya wasn’t going to have time to do her makeup -- but Marinette was too hopped up on giddiness to even bother caring about what smart-aleck comment Chloe was going to throw at them today. It was a silly day to get excited over, and by itself it didn’t really mean anything, but their Valentine’s Days never felt like this. 
Before it always consisted of Marinette buying three cheap boxes of chocolates that were exactly the same -- one for Adrien, one for Nino, one for Alya -- and writing an especially long and heartfelt note on Alya’s to let her know that she was especially important to her. At some point, there would be bitter complaining about being single, spiteful rom-com marathons, and eating spoonfuls of leftover chocolate frosting from the bakery. It felt comfortably normal -- the sort of thing you always got up to with your best friend when the two of you had no one else to lean on except each other on those dark and romance-infested holidays. 
But it was a funny little coincidence when you and your best friend ritualize making fun of Valentine’s Day so much over the years that you eventually fall in love along the way and end up in the amusing position of wanting to recreate all of those gross, sappy, overly-affectionate gestures with each other. In reality, that was the only person that Marinette felt was even worth all of the scrambling around for presents and dates and long sleepovers for. 
She quietly opened up her desk drawer and pulled out the small chain she’d spent half her allowance engraving with Alya’s initials. She’d showed it to Nino and Adrien before deciding to give it to her, afraid to do something that felt so sentimental and meaningful without getting approval for it first, worried that gifts like this only four months in were simply too much. Both boys had stayed quiet for a moment, turning the charm over in their hands and holding the chain up to the light, before eventually letting their eyes soften in time with their growing smiles, telling her without any words at all that it was perfect. 
Being with Alya felt a lot like that sometimes -- like their affection and love grew and spread so quickly, quicker than it did for most people, but that it just made sense for them. There was no need to question how they became friends so suddenly, or how their friendship turned into a deep love without either of them even realizing it. Plus, that sort of unexpectedness was refreshing, sort of like opening up a new box every day and not knowing what beautiful thing you were going to end up with next. If she wanted her love life to be anything, it was an adventure. 
“Hey, Alya?”
“Yeah, babe?” She was picking up her bag and slinging it over her shoulder. “You ready? We have like ten minutes to run over.”
“Yeah, no I’m ready. But, uh. Can we wait a sec? I wanted to give you something.”
Alya fiddled around with the strap to her bag. “Give me what?”
Marinette smiled softly and pulled the chain out of the pocket of her jacket. She saw Alya’s eyes widened and interrupted her before she could speak. “Don’t freak out, it’s honestly nothing. I had the money to spend on it and I guess I wanted to commemorate our first Valentine’s Day as a couple. And I know that’s cheesy and sentimental, but I’m happy, so leave me alone.”
Alya blinked at the the silver chain hanging from Marinette’s fingers and laughed in disbelief. “Wait, stop it, all I got you was a stupid phone case with our picture on it.”
“Don’t call that stupid, I love it!” Marinette insisted. She walked behind Alya and tapped her shoulder to get her to lift her hair away from her neck. “And I didn’t do this expecting something crazy in return. I just had a good feeling about it, and decided to go for it. Fitting, when you consider our track record.”
“How much did you pay for this?” Alya asked, holding the charm while Marinette fasted the clasp. 
“A bit, admittedly, but seriously. I was happy to do it.” She moved back in front of Alya and kissed the tip of her nose. “All I ask is that you actually wear it and not stuff in the back of your jewelry box like you do with all the other chains you own.”
“You know damn well this is the only chain I’m going to be wearing every day, right?”
“I was hoping that was going to be the reaction.”
Alya rolled her eyes and kissed Marinette again, softer, gentler, and with her fingers tracing circles on the apples of Marinette’s cheeks. “Thank you. And I don’t care what you say, I will think of a way to one up you next year.”
Marinette snorted. “You do that. I’ll go ask Ladybug if she’d be willing to do a Valentine’s Day exclusive next year.”
“See you can’t do that, that’s cheating! What the hell do I do to beat that?”
“You have a year to figure it out,” Marinette assured, looping her arm around Alya’s. “I have the utmost faith in you.”
Alya fingered the chain around her neck and nodded. “I’ll do my best. Now come on. Let’s try and keep you from getting a late slip for the billionth time.”
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thursdayg1rl · 3 years
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what a day.
#so in the morning my aunt kindly informed me that my friend had invited me to her house#and she was really angry abt it as if I was trying to hide smth from her when I didnt even know abt this#anyways she made me cry before my maths exams#which went so SO terribly#i cldnt concentrate bcz my head was hurting sm#bcz of the crying#the last few questions.. 🤡#i dont even want to talk about it it was so bad#i literally starting tearing up again whe one of the science teachers told me that i'll do well#it really makes you realise like how little praise you get like i thought i'd start crying#it was so weirdly nice of him hes so nice even though he doesnt even teach me#but yeah i did not infact do well.#maybe i can get a 7 though so its fine#hopefully i can manage an 8 though#no way im getting a nine lmao#so yeah after that. geography was good i finished with half an hour left which was like so impressive for me#usually im working right until the end in geography#but yeah i used the right exams techniques and everything so im happy#then i went to my friends house it was nice we just listened to music outside#now its nearly time for me to go to sleep i cant wait like unironically my body is going to be SO rested in the morning ugh <3#but yeah now my aunt is being normal again idk she literally has something wrong with her#think she might have even casued trouble before my exam on purpose. wuldnt put it past her lmao#anyways yeah im not going to study at all this weekend cannot wait
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blufury · 6 years
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Memories: Chapter 3
It was Friday. I was flying to school once more. At the moment, I was in high spirits as I woke up early and I had two English classes today. More time to write, and no need to rush. I went through the school gate, and headed for the lockers. Once I was there, I stuffed my bag in there, and pulled out a few books and papers. I stuffed the papers in my pocket, and held the books in my arms as I headed for the first class, which was art. Art wasn’t my favorite class, but it wasn’t my least, either. ‘Wait a second.’ I thought. ‘I don’t need the art book. Why am I holding it?’ and I went back to my lockers and put the book back in. We always did something that we either made or draw, we didn’t need our books at all. So why had I pulled it out on the first place? Lol. I flew up to the 6th floor, and went into the art class and went into the art class. Today, we were to draw creatively, changing the original painting of Mona Lisa. I drew a bunch of dragons sitting in the back of a truck, and named the painting ‘To the farm.’ I snickered a bit at my painting. Then I handed it over to the teacher for grading. Then the bell rang. I went to the math class, and prepared for the presentation I had to do. I had to solve the question Ms.Aliea gave out as an assignment. The presentation went smoothly, and I was pleased with myself. Maybe I have improved, you know? The one before lunch was English. As always, I pulled out my pen and paper, and started to write. The main character’s friend was kinda my fantasy. I didn’t have any old-friends, so I made her a life-long friend, and I didn’t have any girl friend, so I made her a female. Basically my own fantasy. While I was writing, Mrs.Han passed by, looking at my work. Soon, I ran out of ideas, and put the paper back in my pocket. Maybe I'll get some more ideas later. I started to think about what to do at lunch period. And, more importantly, what to eat. I was hungry, as I always ignore breakfast. Today was the same. I skipped breakfast, and was now starving. But I didn’t want a burger today. Maybe I should get steak? Yeah. Steak sounded good. The bell rang soon, and I dumped my books in the locker, and flew to the cafeteria to get some steak. Thank god not a lot of dragons liked rare steak, or else it would be out like those well-done steaks. I grabbed a dish, and took a seat near the window. I slowly ate it, then grabbed another dish of steak. I ate it as well, and went out under the same tree as yesterday and started to read. Everything was peaceful, and the breeze was just right. I continued reading. ########## The bell rang, indicating that I had 5 minutes till class starts. I closed my phone, stuffed it in my pocket, and got up. Time to learn about geography. Boring, but better than Korean. I went to my locker again, and pulled out the book I need. But I felt tired. Maybe I’ll ignore this class and sleep..? I walked to class debating on whether to or not to sleep in class. Eating two chunks of steak definitely made me drowsy. But, it was delicious, so it's not bad…right..? I say down, and soon one of my friend joined me. It was Colin. ‘Hey.’ He said. ‘Hey.’ I replied. ‘You listened to the lecture about that college yesterday, right? Why did you? You said you’d go to an automotive college. Changed your mind?’ ‘No. The college I thought of is kind of a campus of that said college. So I thought, you know, maybe u'd get some info? Didn’t though.’ ‘Oh. You're really gonna go to that automotive college, aren't you? Then… you know whay a crankshaft is?’ He said, trying to challenge me. I laughed inwardly. I always won these kinds of challenges, yet he still tries to challenge me. ‘Of course I do! Then, you know what a camshaft is?’ It was a basic question, and I was kinda mocking him. To my surprise, he nodded, but suddenly went silent. So I doubted that he actually knew what a crankshaft is. ‘I'm going to sleep.’ He said, and laid his head down on the desk. ‘I'm going to as well. I'm tired, too.’ I said, abd laid down on my own desk. And like that, the geography class went by, with both of us sleeping. ########### The class got noisy, and I woke up. Colin was already up. In a few minutes, the bell would ring, and I would be able to get out of this class. A few minutes later, the bell indeed did ring, and I got out of class. History next. ########### It was now the second English class, and the last class before one additional class and self-study time. Also, one hour before dinner. I did all my works I had to do, and was now writing once more. ‘If I’m lucky, I might be able to finish this chapter.’ I thought. ‘Hopefully I can.’ ########### It was dinner time. I didn’t fee like eating a lot, so I just got some salad and fruits. The salad… was rather warm, and I didn’t enjoy it a lot. But the fruits were ice-cold, and ripe just right. I did enjoy them. After dinner, I found my friend Focaly, who was another easterner, and urged him to go to a nearby store with me for a flight. I myself, not having much appetite or money, didn’t buy anything, but I did make Focaly buy a roll of bread to eat. You know you're a real bro if you don’t use any money but make others use, right? Ok, ok. That was a joke. Anyways, then we flew back to school, and went to each one's classes. We had self-study time before we could go home. ########### It was the second half of self-study time. Only a bit of time left before I could finally head home. ########### The bell rang, and now I could go home. I packed my bag, and enthusiastically went out od class, as it was the last day of week, and crashed into… Avil. I dropped my bag because of the crash. ‘Sorry.’ I said, and picked up my bag and her books. ‘No,no. No need to. I'm the one who should have been cautious.’ She said. She was holding a bag as well. ‘You going home?’ I asked. ‘Yeah.’ She replied, and looked at my bag. ‘I see you're going home as well.’ ‘Yeah. Umm… mind if I accompany you to the school gate?’ I asked, trying not to sound rude or offensive. ‘No. Let's go then, shall we?’ she said, and led the way. I quickly caught up to her, and flew on her side. The school gate wasn’t far, so we had to part ways very soon. ‘Bye.’ She said. ‘Bye.’ I replied, and waved a claw at her. She smiled at me, and flew away. I continued on my way, and despite my tired condition, my mood was high. I went home, got some cereal and milk, ate, then started tying again. Faster than normal, ADL Ch3 was done, and I went to sleep, feeling happy. It was a good day. +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++Thank you for reading, and if you enjoyed it, please Follow, Comment, and Share! http://dlvr.it/Pzc00Z
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emo-boy-oliver-blog · 6 years
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Life Update #37
Sup humans 
It’s Thursday today and it’s been a pretty good day, I had my drama exam today which meant I only had to go to school for an hour, I felt I went pretty well and now I only have one exam left tomorrow, music, I’m nervous for it coz I’m horrible at music but I’m too unmotivated to study rn, tbh I have barely studied for music, oops, bad idea, I’ll cram tonight.
My packer arrived on Monday night!! My first packer!! It doesn’t work that great without packing underwear but I’m gonna order some but ayy I have a dick now rite.
Tuesday was Halloween and I went as dead Tyler Joseph, it was a SUPER FUN cosplay and I went trick or treating with my mum, she wore a ‘scream’ mask and it was fun. We only went for about 15 minutes as she was super busy so I only got 9 candies but it was still cool. 
Yesterday I had Geography and History exams, I was super stressed about both of them but I went better than I expected. Not amazingly, but better than I expected. 
After exams I went to the psychiatrist for gender,that was an experience. I went with my mum and dad, we arrived and sat in the waiting room for a little bit, it smelt like hospital. There were a couple of rows of plain green chairs we sat on. The receptionist said my deadname as soon as I arrived which sucks but oh well. An older man walked up to greet us, saying my deadname, he wasn’t super tall and had grey hair and was wearing a button up shirt which was slightly too big. He led us all into his office which was a smaller room, he dragged another chair in so we could all sit down. He had his own desk with a spinny chair and it had a heap of figurine animals, mainly lions and zebras. Behind him there were three containers of kids toys and my parents and I sat on a small wooden chair each. He poured us a half glass of water each, my throat was dry but I was too anxious to drink any, I started tapping my leg anxiously and tapping my teeth with my hands. First of all he asked each of us individually stuff about ourselves, names, ages, hobbies, schools/jobs. This whole time everyone including him was using she/her pronouns for me which sucked. Then he asked everyone why we thought we were there, everyone explained their point of view but even AFTER I explained to him he still used she/her for me. Eventually I cut my parents off and said they were using the wrong pronouns, they never changed that, the psychiatrist eventually asked my parents if it was ‘okay with them’ to use he/him pronouns for be coz he ‘didn’t want to disrespect them’! What about me?! Anyways it got pretty emotional and I teared up coz we all talked about worries, concerns and the path we want to take regarding gender. I didn’t like some of the terms he used but it’s alright I guess. He was also one of those people who says ‘yeah’ while you’re talking repeatedly as a way of listening which kinda bugs me but not too much and he kept saying ‘one sec I have to make my brain work’ when he was thinking which I thought was kinda funny and I liked that. He was very matter of fact about things, didn’t show much emotion. It was beneficial I think and hopefully he can put me on to hormone blockers soon. I think the next appointment will be better because it’s just me and him. Two new things that kinda hurt I learnt in the appointment were that 1. My mum is nowhere near ready using he/him pronouns for me naturally and 2. My dad doesn’t want to use the right pronouns coz he’s not sure I’m sure. I try to explain, I wish they could just use the right damn pronouns it’s not permanent, it’s not like calling me he is gonna make me grow a dick. Anyways I’m done talking about the appointment now.
After the appointment I went to musical theatre which was super fun, I got to speak to my crush which was nice and I hung out with a heap of cool friends. We finished our super hard dance which is awesome and we started our second one for the concert, get lit! The people from Honk are having a party but I haven’t heard all the details coz I’m only in one of the chats and I’m highkey anxious lately so I’m not gonna go, I just don’t feel welcome, maybe I’m too young, idk
That’s all for now
Oliver
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celticnoise · 6 years
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Frustrating. Baffling. Finally infuriating.
Gordon Strachan changed the national team’s playing system before this game. Because we needed to win. Understandable, but frustrating because there have been times when that system looked as if it were going to bear fruit. It relies on the right players, of course. For a night like this you need guys who are super-fit. Determined. Keen. Preferably guys who play together every week. In the absence of that you simply need guys who play at all.
So of course, that’s the exact opposite of what we got.
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Why does Strachan persist on playing guys who aren’t first team regulars? He will say they are the players who have been there for him. Through what? The period where he was on the verge of the sack. I credit him with making bad decisions all the way through this campaign. The worst of them was to ignore the obvious for so long; Leigh Griffiths is the best striker by far. Tonight the gripe is that he left Leigh on, injured, for as long as he did.
Or that’s one of the gripes anyway.
Against Slovakia, at Hampden, Strachan made substitutions which led to the goal. That proves only that it’s sometimes better to be lucky than good. The goal itself was more than a touch fortuitous; the entire night, we played balls into a packed penalty area and never remotely looked like scoring a goal. Strachan persisted with that, even bringing on Anya. It failed right up until the moment it succeeded. Football is full of stories like that.
Those stories are why some managers stay in jobs and others go.
Top class managers never need worry about their careers hanging on such a break of the ball. Strachan is a better manager than he sometimes gets credit for, but he is a remarkably stubborn one, even an arrogant one. He persists on doing things long after the case for changing them is obvious to all but the most blinkered. He would rather see a plan fail, spectacularly, than change it and admit that he might have been wrong in the first place.
Tonight he made another of those substitutions, one that infuriates you at the time but which the press will talk about as though it were a mark of genius. Yet there was absolutely no logic whatsoever in putting Snodgrass on when there were better options sitting on the benches. There was zero logic at all to bringing on Fletcher.
If those substitutions – made about ten minutes after they should have been, which was directly after we lost the second goal – were typically Strachan then the first was simply inexplicable. You saw Griffiths was struggling, and thus all of us would have accepted an enforced substitution. But it was a tactical change, because he left Leigh on and brought Anya on in Martin’s place. The kicker is, by the time the change was made we’d lost the first goal.
What kind of logic is there in making a tactical change when the whole tactical situation has just been flipped on its head? Does it make a bit of sense to leave on a half fit striker as your only option up front in a must win game? Of course not.
But he did it anyway.
And from that point on we never looked at the races.
Too many players in that team looked knackered by the hour mark. That’s what comes of playing guys who don’t get games week in week out. Strachan, in common with a lot of managers south of the border, has a peculiarly English-centric take on the game and the players. There are players up here who’ll never get a look in under this guy; Callum would never have been selected except by necessity, for one thing, and he never got a minute of game time.
But the same could be said about young John McGinn, and some of the boys at Aberdeen. It doesn’t matter how well they play; the geography is against them. Instead he’ll pick guys who have contracts at low-level EPL and Championship teams first, game after game. Even Robertson, who has barely played a minute at Liverpool is played and so Tierney – the best natural full-back in Scotland one of the finest in Britain – is moved to accommodate him.
Ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous.
Gordon Strachan has his favourites. His pals. Like Anya. Like McArthur. Like the Fletchers. The Snodgrass’s. And yes, the Martin’s. When Strachan goes, God willing some of these guys go with him. The few gems – Ritchie is a great player, Phillips could definitely do a job – are overwhelmingly outnumbered by those who contribute nothing at all.
Another World Cup campaign has ended. Do not expect leadership from the SFA. If Strachan doesn’t fall on his own sword there is no-one at Hampden with the cojones to thrust it into his back. These people will live with mediocrity until the cows come home.
Scotland fans are sick of the hard luck story. Glorious failure is simply abject failure with a positive spin. The prizes for second place are lousy, the proverbial “set of steak knives.” Remember how the next line in that movie goes? Yeah, “Third place is, you’re fired.”
As I said in an earlier piece, I have every respect for Gordon Strachan. I love the guy. I will forever be grateful for what he accomplished at Celtic Park.
But as someone else once said, “this ain’t show friends, it’s show business.”
And as sad as it is, this movie is finished. There is no point in being sentimental. This is something that has to be done.
Time to hit the bricks and beat it, Gordon.
Do the country a favour and make it easy.
Because I don’t think anybody up there has the brass balls to do what has to be done.
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brettimaeus-writes · 7 years
Text
Cat Lady
Week #4
Lucy is a character I want to detail in a variety of stories, many of which will feature her friend Britt. I’m not confident I have their character’s nailed down, which is why I need to do so. They’re somewhat important.
This story is the first, and it might be a standout. After a full night of racking my brain for ideas, I slammed these thousand words down in an hour. So it’s coming from a rather visceral place that you can probably read into. I haven’t edited it, and I likely won’t? because of course I need to be willing to crap this stuff out and never look back. So here’s to that. *clinks licorice tea glass against monitor, spiliing tea on my keyboard*
When Lucy was a kid, her neighbors asked her to catsit for 2 weeks while they were out town. Every day when she came home from school, even though she had homework to get to, she would go straight into the living room to pet the cat. Her mom would seize the opportunity to ask her how her day went, and she would give a brief summary before bringing up her homework and excusing herself. For the first week this was the case. But finals were next week, and she needed to make use of all the time available to her, so over the weekend, Lucy locked herself in her room to study.
The goings were rough, and the word problems were tough, but Lucy carefully staved off distractions. She put her phone on silent and her laptop on airplane mode, and even then she found herself rereading sentences until they stuck. But she was as in the zone as she could be, and that's what counted.
Then her mom called up to remind her about the cat. The call ripped her from her state of zen. She realized there were responsibilities at conflict here. But her work took greater precedence, so she called back down to her mother and said she couldn't come at the moment. Her mom's cry of “awww,” was cut off by Lucy closing the door. She resumed her study. It took her about an hour to reenter her zen state, but once she had things went swimmingly. She finished reviewing her Geography flash cards at 8:00 PM, but she still had 3 subjects to go that Saturday evening.
And her mom called up to remind her about the cat. It needed it's food and water changed, not to mention some attention. This frustrated Lucy greatly, but she knew it was getting late, and she was better off finishing that chore before continuing into the night. She ran down the stairs to the living room and grabbed the bowls from the corner. Her mom greeted her with delight, thanking her for being responsible. Lucy silently cleaned and refilled the bowls in the kitchen, then brought them back for the cat. Her mom said, “I think you'd better give him some pets before you run back off again. He misses you.”
Lucy stared at her, then at the cat, who was already busy chowing down his food. “Wish I could mom, but I gotta get back to work.” She headed back upstairs, somewhat abject, and got to getting back to work.
THE NEXT DAY, SUNDAY MORNING
Lucy woke with her face in a textbook, and her mom poking her shoulder. “Hey you,” she remarked, “The cat's downstairs if you want a good wake-up from him...”
Lucy blinked at her, half-processing. “That- That was a plenty good *yawn* wake-up right there, mom. I gotta find where I left off.” Lucy had intended to pull an all-nighter. She'd lost a lot of ground overnight, and she wasn't even sure how much yet. That made her grouchy enough as is, not to mention the uncomfortable, unsatisfying desk-sleep she'd gotten.
Her mother frowned at her. “Alright, well don't deprive yourself of sleep and snuggles just for this.” She left Lucy alone, thank god.
Lucy buckled down. She cracked open boxes of cereal to eat raw, as substitutes for meals. She peed in the crappy, tiny upstairs bathroom instead of the one downstairs she usually used. And she focused all her efforts on staying in the zen zone of her room.
But her mom called up to remind her about the cat. Lucy snapped to look at the clock, it was somehow 6 PM. Her mom called “Hey sweetie, I think the cat wants some love!”
“Love!? It wants, love??” She shouted back.
“Yeah, is that too much to ask?” Coerced her mother.
“Yeah!!! Right now it is!”
“Well that's too bad! Come down hear and show him some attention.”
Lucy's eyes widened in frustration. She closed her laptop, snatched it up, and stormed down the stairs with it under her arm. As she entered the living room, her mother once again greeted her with delight. Lucy once again said nothing. She looked around the room for the cat, and found it cowering underneath the pedals of the exercise bike. She dropped her laptop on the couch, went over to the cat, and sat criss-cross applesauce next to it, facing away from her mom. The cat slinked away.
Her mother spoke up. “Boy a real grumpus, aren't we?”
Lucy's mouth tightened. “Yeah. Now's not a good time for this, I think.”
“What? Of course it is. Here, if you turn around you can watch TV with me while you pet him.”
Lucy turned around and saw the Big Bang Theory was on. That was the last straw.
“Mom, I'm busy!”
“Oh come on, you're always busy. I've seen you all of five minutes today.”
Lucy stared at her mom, overcome with the feeling that she was being extremely selfish. She decided to get up and leave. As if reading her mind, her mom asked her if she could perform a favor. Lucy asked what. She said the neighbors were posting online about missing their precious cat.
“...And?” said Lucy.
“Can you take a picture of him, for me to send them?”
“Why can't you take a picture mom?” she asked
“Well, you're better with technology...”
Lucy stared at her mom, sitting on the couch with iPad outstretched in a trap. She looked back at the cat and realized he'd escaped to the opposite corner of the room. He was in the jumpy sort of mood that would make this job very difficult. She got up, took the iPad, and set about trying to take a picture of him. The light was low, and the iPad's camera sucked, so her mom rephrased that goal to a good picture of him.
After a while of giving angling advice from the peanut gallery, which made Lucy fume, her mother got up to help corral him into a good spot in the center of the room. Their combined efforts were enough to get some acceptable products, ready for shipping to the lonely set of parents who'd missed their fur-baby. But it took a half-hour which felt to Lucy like an epoch.
She passed the iPad back to her mom, who admitted she could go upstairs now. Lucy rebutted “I'd go upstairs anyway, thanks. I told you I was busy mom!”
“Well, thanks for sacrificing your precious time.” thanked her mother.
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