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nametakensff · 9 months

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I'll show you disease (B/illy, S/tranger T/hings)

Here's a 3.8k nasty fic no-one asked for of E/ddie selling B/illy weed at a house party when B/illy is sick with some evil cold or flu bug. AU of some kind in which they are both alive and nothing exceptional ever happened to them so they're just getting on with life 🤷‍♀️

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Content:

M/M but not really (they hate each other), Cold/flu sneezes, voyeurism, E/ddie has the fetish, E/ddie is germaphobic but conflicted over it, some mentions of mess, contagion, sneezing in someone's face, mentions of masturbation

CW: Non-consensual contagion, very brief mention of someone throwing up, some suppressed shame over the fetish, homophobic and ableist slurs, physical violence, young men being fucking stupid and aggressive

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I really should emphasise this is a pretty seedy fic. No nice feelings to be had, just pure nasty fetish content I had to get out of my system 😅

NSFW, minors please DNI!

Eddie leaned up against the back wall of the fancy house he was currently lurking behind, black metal lunch box in hand. He hadn’t wanted to show up to this fucking shitshow of a house party. It had quite literally been the last thing he had wanted to do. This was his third time taking calculus and he had a stack of equations to get through before the homework was due on Friday. He hated that shit, hated it with a passion, and yet – he would rather be crouched over his desk, chewing the end of his pencil to wood chips and dying of boredom, than be at this party. But his amp had finally given out on him and he’d burned through any and all drug money this month already. He knew selling weed and ket to teenagers wasn’t exactly a respectable occupation, but nobody would hire him in this fucking town, even to flip burgers, and he sure as fuck wasn’t going to bug Wayne for cash. So he was here, trying to tune out the blare of some trash Oingo Boingo song and working his way through a crumpled pack of cigarettes.

There was a sudden commotion to his left. A jock pushed his way through a gaggle of students and made it halfway down the (extensive, perfectly mown) lawn before emptying his guts noisily. Eddie wrinkled his nose at the sight before tossing his cigarette to ground and grinding it out on the (obviously pricey and incredibly tasteful) flagstones. Why him, why him.

It was nearing the end of November, and Hawkins was fucking cold. He snuggled into his leather jacket, for all the good it did him. The other partygoers didn’t seem to notice the freezing temperature at all – but then again, they had enough cheap alcohol in their system to anesthetise a family of elephants, so it made sense. He’d have to break out his trench coat soon, and after that, his woefully ratty puffer jacket. He hated that shit, a total style-cramper of a coat, but vanity be damned. It was the only thing that successfully kept out the cold.

He sniffled, nose starting to run a little. He swiped across his philtrum, grimacing at the dampness pooling there and how freezing the tip of his nose was. He really, really didn’t want to get sick, not with whatever plague was going round Hawkins High this year. He’d had a close call with Gareth last week, had disbanded Hellfire mid-session in a desperate attempt to separate himself and everyone else from what had to be the fastest and messiest progression of an upper-respiratory infection he had ever seen. It seemed like half his classes were empty, not that he particularly gave a fuck about that. He would rather the sick students actually stay at home than brave coming to school and give their germs to him.

It was strange, to be so disgusted by the thought of himself being sick but find the contagion aspect of it so incredibly erotic. The other day he’d been making his way to his locker between classes when he’d seen and heard one of the senior cheerleaders – he forgot her name – erupt into a dramatic fit of seven girly sneezes that sent her pitching forward into steepled hands, before using said germy hands to open the door of a classroom. He took a detour to the bathroom to calm himself – from both the creeping anxiety and sudden rush of blood to his groin.

The sound of something shattering inside the house followed by drunken whooping and cheering pulled him out of his thoughts. He rolled his eyes and lit his third – or was it his fourth? – cigarette of the evening. He really should lay off the things, especially if he wanted to strengthen his immune system, but right now he needed something to occupy his mind. Business was slow-going, partially due to the fact that half the student body was sick, and partially due to the fact that he was in no mood to actively socialise and be surrounded by wasted teenagers while George Michael was blaring loudly enough to give him a tension headache. Funny that Iron Maiden never did that to him, even at the maximum volume of his car speakers.

A couple more sales should get him what he wanted. He could probably make more if he put in the effort, but it was just not one of those days. The thought that he would probably make easier sales going door to door selling Robitussin this week passed through his mind, and he chuckled at the absurdity of it.

“Hh’RRrSSHhh’uhh!!”

Nearly dropping his cigarette, Eddie’s body perked up immediately at the sound of what was, at least to his ears, an incredibly sexy sneeze. Gruff, irritated and masculine, it echoed a little in the garden and at least three girls called out blessings in response. He listened for a beat as the culprit offered no thank you’s, trying not to hold his breath in anticipation for what he hoped was a second sneeze.

“Hh-!! HAHhh’TSCcchhh’uh!!”

Ooh, that sounded desperate. And so wet. He took a drag on his cigarette and let himself luxuriate on the exhale and the sound of the sneeze looping in his mind. It was a welcome respite from the boredom and shitty pop music. Eddie scanned what he could of the garden from his vantage point but couldn’t see anyone that looked like they were recovering from a fierce double of sneezes. Maybe they’d made their way outside to sneeze before heading back in? Either way, it seemed like that was it. He was a little disappointed he wouldn’t get to hear any more. Those sneezes had been hot, plain and simple, admittedly leaving his jeans a little tighter than before. He was grateful that he was partial to black jeans and had found a particularly shadowy corner to skulk in. It wasn’t as if anyone was coming over anyway.

It was as he was sighing in frustration and taking a final drag on the stump of his cig that he heard honest-to-god footsteps approaching him from the left. He straightened up, ready to turn on as much charm as he could to secure the last 20 to 30 dollars he needed.

His smile dropped the second he took in the sight of the man approaching him, and it took him almost all of his energy to stop himself from groaning out loud. He kept his cool, flicking the cigarette butt to the ground and standing up straight.

“Hargrove! Fancy meeting you here.”

As he had expected he would, Billy downright snarled at him.

“Cut the shit, Munson. I’m not here to fucking chit-chat.”

Eddie smirked.

“Oh, believe me, honey, I know. You want a half-ounce of reefer?”

Billy bristled at the pet name, also just as Eddie had expected. He loved messing with the guy, even if it earned him a couple of punches here and there. Billy would never rough him up totally – the dude was insane, most likely a certifiable sociopath, but he wasn’t stupid. He knew that Eddie was both the fastest and cheapest way to get a fix, and it would do no good to brain his dealer over some light teasing.

“Yeah. Hurry up, freak.”

Eddie made a point of opening his lunch box as slowly as possible, delighting in the way the vein on Billy’s forehead was starting to bulge. He had no idea why the girls flocked to such a douchebag. Hargrove was good looking, he knew that – he had eyes. But there was this aura around the guy – something just not right about him. Girls didn’t even give him a chance, though he knew that was partially due to his own doing. Anyway. Weed. He could only joke around so much before Billy reached the end of his tether.

He held the plastic bag up to Billy, jumping back and out of reach when Billy made a grab for it.

“Munson, I swear to god –“

“Cash first, doll-face. Twenty dollars.” Eddie smirked at him.

“Fucking fag.” Billy grumbled but reached into his pocket and rummaged around anyway. He pulled out two crumpled tens and was half-started proffering them to Eddie when he suddenly froze. Eddie frowned and tilted his head, wondering what the fuck was happening until a sudden flicker of movement at the centre of Billy’s face – his nostrils giving a violent twitch – had him zoning in like a hawk.

An intense look of irritation was taking over Billy’s features in a distinctively pre-sneeze fashion. Despite himself, Eddie felt a tingle of anticipation race down his spine. Hargrove was a psycho, but he was a hot psycho, and it would be a lie if he said he wasn’t at least a little curious to hear him sneeze. The metalhead continued to feign confusion so that he could carry on watching Billy’s expression crumple, and, to his utter delight, listen as the younger man issued a couple of soft gasps, the tickle teasing him mercilessly.

Eddie licked his lips, a nervous habit and nothing more, but was nonetheless relieved that Billy was far too distracted to notice. And man, was he distracted. He didn’t mask the desperation on his face at all – if anything, he seemed to lean into it, nostrils twitching and flaring as his tongue pressed against his bottom lip. He looked ridiculous, which was to say painfully erotic, at least to Eddie. Stupid, sexy psychopath.

Finally, the tickle seemed to crest, and with a final gasp, Billy was pitching forward with a wrenching sneeze.

“HuHh’RRrrrschh!!”

Eddie jumped out of the way just in time, clumsily stepping back from the glittering cloud of spray that the younger man let out unhindered. He paused for a moment, in which Eddie watched the aerosol of the sneeze dissipate gently in the cold night air, before his head tipped forward with another harsh expulsion.

“HH’TTSCHhhGH!!”

The spray was even denser this time as Billy sneezed forcefully through clenched teeth. Eddie licked his lips again, couldn’t help himself. No question about it, Hargrove was definitely the source of those earlier, cock-throbbingly sexy sneezes, and he had a front-row seat to the absolute spectacle of it all. The lack of manners and etiquette, the way the younger man just let loose with no regard for the fact that Eddie had been standing well within the splash zone was an unfortunate and very potent turn-on. The metalhead shifted from one foot to the other, reaching a hand into his pocket and squeezing his cock through his jeans in a weak attempt to wrangle it into submission.

Billy righted himself, blinking through bleary, wet eyelashes for a moment and shaking his head, looking for all the world like the sneezes had temporarily sent him on a trip to another dimension. He snuffled and Eddie winced. That did not sound healthy. He watched as the younger man wiped his damp lips and nostrils on the back of his free hand before thrusting the bills out toward him, as if nothing at all had occurred.

“Uhh, bless you.” Eddie offered, hearing the thinly veiled disgust (and something else) in his own voice. He could have sworn he actually felt the germs being transferred from paper to skin as he slid the tainted money into his pocket, making sure not to graze his erection as he went.

Billy said nothing, didn’t even so much as grunt, just stared Eddie down with those cold blue eyes and held out his empty hand for the drugs. Eddie pressed the bag into his palm, trying not to stare but failing as Billy used the thumb and forefinger of his other hand to swipe at his nostrils – pinching them shut before pulling down towards his septum, transferring the dampness to his fingertips.

“Always a pleasure, Hargrove.” Eddie muttered under his breath, snapping his lunch box closed and turning to make his way the fuck off the property and back to the safe, germless confines of his van. He flinched at the sudden sensation of Billy gripping his shoulder tight. A confusing wave of disgust and arousal flowed through him as he realised it was the hand he had just been using to tend to his nose.

“Wait. Do you have any joints, pre-rolled?”

Eddie did, but they were his.

“I do, but they’re mine. Let go.”

He attempted to free himself from the grip, but Billy squeezed tighter. Accepting a quick defeat, he rolled his eyes and reached into the interior pocket of his jacket. With crazies like Hargrove, when they were on one like this, it was better to give them what they wanted. For a price, of course. He held it up so that Billy could see but not reach.

“I want another ten for this.”

He was absolutely pushing his luck, and he knew it. If Billy got violent, he’d cut his losses and fork it over, but he may as well try and milk the situation just a little. To his surprise, Billy just nodded, letting go of his shoulder and rooting around in his pocket for another bill. When he handed it over with no fanfare, Eddie handed him the joint and eagerly snatched at the money.

He was about to leave again when he noticed Billy, joint perched in his mouth, patting his own leather jacket up and down and cussing under his breath. He should have just turned and gone, would have under any other circumstances. If Billy the bigot couldn’t find his lighter, it was no skin off his teeth. It’s just, he had absolutely ripped the guy off, and he was clearly sick…

“Need a light?” He offered, flipping his own lighter open.

Billy regarded him for a moment before grunting, securing the joint between two fingers and allowing Eddie to lean forward and light the tip for him. He took a long drag before exhaling the smoke out of his nostrils – something Eddie had seen him do a number of times before, but never with such a miserably stuffy nose. Billy was coughing almost instantly before a shaky inhale tipped his blonde head backwards in preparation for another bout of sneezing.

His nostrils looked great when they flared like that, Eddie thought to himself, no longer giving a fuck about his lingering gaze now that it was evident Billy was entirely incapacitated by the tickle in his nose. He watched through unblinking eyes as those pinkening nostrils flared to capacity, stomach fluttering a little as Billy took in that final, heaving breath before he was pushed over the edge.

“Hh’RRISCHHhh’uh!! HaHH’TSCCHhhh!! ‘TTtSCHHhhttt!!”

A triple this time. Eddie watched as Billy sprayed the air thrice, each sneeze increasing in sloppy intensity and sending shivers of pleasure down his spine. The thought of catching those sneezes with his palm, feeling the force and drenching wetness of them first-hand sent such a sudden rush of blood to his stiffening cock that he almost swooned with it.

Billy appeared just as winded post-sneeze as Eddie felt. He hated that he felt pity for the guy, knew he didn’t deserve it, but it was there all the same, tugging at his goddamn heartstrings. He should just go. Instead, he opened his big, dumb mouth.

“You shouldn’t be smoking that shit when you’re sick, man.”

“Fuck off. I’m not sick.” Billy sniffled thickly, glaring at him as he took another drag from the joint and exhaling through his mouth this time.

“Right, sure. And I’m the pope. You clearly have the fucking disease that’s left Hawkins High on its knees this past couple of weeks.”

Billy pointedly ignored him. Eddie carried on anyway.

“You graduated, man. What the fuck are you doing at a high school party, other than swapping spit with some poor teenage girls who don’t know any better – who totally, by the way, gave you a fucking radio-active strain of influenza.”

Billy stared at him, that icy-cold gaze that normally looked so composed and lifeless seeming just a little more heated than usual.

“Do you ever shut the fuck up, freak?”

“No, not really.”

“Maybe you fucking should. Burnout retard, still in High School at twenty and selling drugs to those ‘poor teenage girls’. Nobody cares what you think.”

He heard this shit on the daily from various douchebag jocks. It was nothing new. His normal response would have been to laugh, make some kind of overly theatrical gesture and walk away. For whatever reason – the fact that he had been concerned for this scumbag, the fact that he was freezing cold, the fact that he hated this party with a passion, who knew – he opened his mouth again.

“Yeah? At least I don’t look and sound like a fucking human petri dish of disease, sniffles.”

Billy came at him so fast he didn’t even have time to blink before he was slammed up against the wall, head smacking painfully back onto the brick.

“Mother fucker!” He hissed in pain, reaching up to grab at Billy’s wrists as he gripped him by his jacket. “Get the fuck off me, psycho!”

Billy smirked at him, leaned up close enough that for one terrifying, exhilarating second, Eddie thought he was going to kiss him.

“I’ll show you disease, you piece of shit.” Billy muttered, so close Eddie could feel the warmth of his breath as his lips all but grazed his own.

“What are you…” Eddie started before realisation spread through his veins like icy water. That familiar snarl of irritation was back, Billy’s nostrils twitching wide, jaw yawning open as the tickle overpowered him again. The metalhead was entranced for a beat, felt his traitorous cock throbbing in his jeans. This was like one of the private fantasies he would stroke himself off to, as whatever flavour of the month he fixated on would sneeze for him over and over in his mind, except this was actually happening. He could actually feel the puffs of Billy’s choppy inhales and exhales, watch the stretch and flare of his pretty, round nostrils as he built-up to what was sure to be another drenching explosion.

It was as he heard Billy take in that final, cinching breath that he snapped out of his lust-filled haze and started to push the younger man backwards, his grip having been temporarily weakened by the all-encompassing hold of the culminating tickle. He wasn’t fast enough though - the first wet sneeze hit him squarely in the face, spray bursting over him and forcing his eyes to reflexively squeeze shut.

“HAAHh’TSSCHHTtt!!!”

Eddie continued to push him, utilising Billy’s total surrender to his illness to unbalance him. He opened his eyes to watch the younger man stagger backwards, a second sneeze barrelling out of him and gracing the frigid air (and Eddie’s chin and neck) with a wide arc of germ-filled spray.

“HH’RRRSSCHhh’ww!!”

He stumbled forward onto one knee, inhaling again and tipping his head back for the most violent, definitive sneeze of the fit.

“HhHH’RISSSCHHH!!! Ough…”

This last sneeze sprayed juicy droplets of mess across the grass in front of him, so powerful that a couple of drops splattered the toes of Eddie’s sneakers. Billy looked up at him with a sick look of smugness and pleasure.

Eddie stared down at him in disbelief. When Billy started to chuckle like a fucking maniac, snot dripping from his nose all while he looked up at Eddie with those empty eyes, something snapped. He kicked Billy right in the sternum, forcing a winded groan out of him and sending him sprawling backwards onto the grass. Eddie lunged at him, straddling his torso before landing a series of punches all over his pretty-boy face. He had the sense to swing with his right arm only, sparing Billy the impact of the three heavy rings on his left hand, if only to avoid damage enough that he wouldn’t be spending a regrettable night at Hawkins police station.

Five punches in, Eddie realised Billy wasn’t fighting back. His stomach dropped, and for a brief moment of panic he thought he’d knocked him out or worse, but those fears were assuaged as Billy righted himself, head lolling back to rest on the grass as he stared back up at Eddie. The grin plastered to his face was deeply unnerving. He was also boiling hot; Eddie could feel the heat emanating off the torso between his thighs even through his jeans. Feeling the anger dissipate and wanting only to be as far away from the guy as possible, he scrambled to his feet. Billy continued to smirk up at him, even as his left cheek was starting to swell.

Eddie scrubbed at his face with his sleeve, a delayed reaction that would serve very little purpose at this point but gave him something to do to break eye contact.

“I’m charging you double from now on, you dumb motherfucker.” He spat, knowing even as he said it that it was a bluff.

Billy continued to lie back on the grass and started laughing like a total fucking maniac. Eddie had had enough – he was an expert at throwing people off their game but Hargrove was on a completely different level. He was genuinely batshit insane. He snatched his lunch box off the ground and stomped his way down the expansive garden towards the street. He heard Billy’s laughter trail off, grateful for the temporary reprieve until he heard a telltale gasp.

“HuHH’TSSSCHHH’uu!! Hah-!! TSCCCHHHSsstt!!”

Even through the anger, the discomfort, the disgust, his stomach still fluttered at the sound of them. Several minutes later he was back in his van, debating whether or not to claw his own facial skin off, cursing under his breath as he fumbled to start his sputtering engine. He wasn’t escaping this fucking sickness, no way in hell. Not after Billy had…He shook his head, still in genuine shock and some degree of self-recrimination for simply not walking away the second he saw that psycho approaching him. The fever must have fried the guy’s fucking brain, because what the fuck. What the fuck.

His engine finally roared to life and he was peeling down the road far faster than was both advisable and legal. He wanted nothing more than to strip naked and scrub himself germ-free before collapsing into his bed and pretending this entire evening had never happened. Never mind that he was hard as a rock. He definitely didn’t need to address the fact that the second he was in the shower his hand would be creeping down his stomach before wrapping his erection in a firm grip. No need to dwell on how he would probably be coming against the tiled wall until his legs were shaking, conjuring both the image of Billy’s pink nostrils flared to perfect circles, and the sound of his cold-induced sneezes as they burst across his skin.

He stomped on the gas, letting the thrill of his reckless driving drown out the uncomfortable thoughts, at least until he made it back to the trailer.

#no romance and no s/teve in this one at all #and i didn't make e/ddie sneeze even once?? insanity #s/tranger t/hings #nametakenfic #snzfucker #sneeze fic #sneeze kink #snz kink #snz fet #snzblr #sneeze fucker

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scullysexual · 4 months

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a continuation of this. @today-in-fic

mentions of emotional/physical abuse.

“No, Mommy!” Emily cries, trying to squirm away from Dana’s hand. They are in the bathroom of a Walmart, a wet paper towel sits in Dana’s hand as she attempts to wash the dirt and grime of the past few days from her daughter’s face. The five year old has none of it.

“I have to clean your face, baby,” Dana says quietly. Truthfully, she doesn’t have the energy to fight with Emily today. She was exhausted; the stresses of her living situation catching with her.

Last night they had camped in the parking lot of the Walmart whose bathroom they were currently using. It was another cold night and Dana had barely slept. Despite the overnight parking sign, Dana had still been worried somebody would come along and throw them out even if she deliberately parked in the corner furthest away. That, however, had also come with its own issues: no streetlights. So while one half of her had worried about getting kicked out, the other half worried about getting her car broken into while they slept.

Emily, thankfully, had had no issues falling asleep. It was the daytime she struggled with. Unsimulated, bored, Emily’s tantrums had been getting worse lately. So far Emily had ripped one of her books apart and the corner of her tablet had a crack in it from when Emily had thrown it onto the parking lot’s tarmac. Dana tried not to get angry at her child, she was probably feeling the stress too now.

“Why can’t I go home and have a proper bath?” Emily asks.

Home. Every day Emily asked to go home. Every day Dana told her they couldn’t.

“Home isn’t safe anymore,” Dana tells her again.

“Daddy puts bubbles in my bath and let’s me play with as many ducks as I want.” Emily’s head lifts, almost challenging Dana to compete with her precious daddy. She hears what Emily doesn’t say. You keep me in a car all day and try to wash my face in stinky toilets.

Dana knows this already. She would listen as Ethan bathed Emily hours after a fight, like nothing had happened, meanwhile Dana would clean up the mess left behind.

She doesn’t tell Emily the other things Ethan does or says like how angry he becomes when he drinks or how she and Emily are the reason his life is so shit.

Well, they were out of his life now, Dana wonders if it was going any better for him.

Dana tosses the paper towel into the trashcan. She brushes her teeth and then disappears into the cubical to pee. She gets Emily to sing a song with her so Dana knows she still there and it’s during this time that something catches her eye. A leaflet sticks halfway out of the sanitary bin. Dana yanks it out as the lyrics to Wheels On The Bus trail off from her lips. Emily stops singing, too.

“Mommy, where did you go?” Emily cries.

“I’m still on the toilet, baby,” Dana answers though she is distracted looking at the leaflet. It’s a job ad; some time of nanny agency. Babysitting, Dana thinks. There’s a number on the bottom. An ideal striking, Dana gets off the toilet. When she opens the cubical, the leaflet still in her hand, Emily looks at her with relief.

“You took too long,” she says accusatory.

“I’m sorry,” Dana apologises. She shoves the leaflet into her bag and washes her hands.

“Can we go home now?” Emily asks.

“Soon.” Dana helps Emily off the counter and she takes hold of her hand, leading her out of the bathroom.

…

Dana listens as the phone rings, Finding Nemo plays in the background, Emily’s little laughter escaping her mouth as she watches. The phone rings five times and Dana is sure nobody is going to pick up. She’s about to give up when the ringing stops, there’s a slight pause, and then a woman’s voice rings through.

“Happy Nest Nurseries, Ellie speaking, how can I help?”

The voice on the other end takes Dana back a bit and she stutters slightly before she speaks.

“Hi, um…I’m Dana Scully. I was wondering if you had any positions available?” She bites her lip with trepidation, watching Emily through the rear-view mirror.

Ellie sighs. “I’m sorry, we don’t have any places, right now.” Dana’s heart sinks. Ellie goes quiet again and Dana hears the hustle of the phone being moved. There’s a conversation happening between Ellie and somebody else but Dana can’t quite catch the words. Finally, Ellie’s voice sounds through again.

“Actually, Monica says she might have something. Could you come in today?”

Dana smiles, happy and wide. “Yes! Yes, I can.”

“Great,” says Ellie. “I will see you then.”

They exchanges goodbyes and Dana starts putting the car into gear. The sound of the engine coming to life causes Emily to look up from her tablet.

“Are we going home now?” she asks.

“Not quite. Mommy has somewhere she needs to be.”

…

It’s only when she gets to the offices- the address listed on the leaflet and confirmed during a quick phone call to Ellie again- that Dana realises her appearance doesn’t exactly scream interview ready. She looks as tired as she feels, has aged about 10 years in three days. When she untangles her hair from the hair tie it falls down mattered and greasy, in need of a good wash, her curls in need of a reset (or a pair of straighteners) She finger combs through the ends, yanks out a giant knot with a wince, then reties her hair, this time into a ponytail. Then she pulls open the glove compartment in the hopes of finding a stray lip gloss tube in there. After rummaging around she finds not only the lip gloss but mascara, too, along with that a broken comb, couple of random receipts, a lighter, half a pack of cigarettes, Ethan’s ‘lost’ driver’s license- the memory of the day he lost that forever burned into her mind- and a teething toy from when Emily was a baby. Suffice to say, just about everything was in this glove compartment.

Dana shoves everything put the lip gloss and mascara away, she’ll deal with that junk another day. The uses the sun shield mirror and applies the products, immediately looking and feeling better about herself. She turns to Emily then.

“Emily?”

Emily remains half engrossed still by her tablet. “Hmm?”

“I’m about to speak to some very important people. I need you to be on your best behaviour, okay?”

“Can I bring my tablet?”

Dana sighs. When she was pregnant with Emily she didn’t want to become that parent who handed their child a phone screen to keep them quiet. In fact, she had been very against the idea, upholding it whenever she could. It was Ethan who ruined that one. When Emily was two years old he handed her his phone and it had been that way ever since. It wasn’t the first time Dana tried to implement rules and restrictions that would get thrown out the window by Ethan a few hours later. Bubble baths and unlimited ducks one of them. There was a reason Daddy was the favoured one because he gave whatever Emily wished, Mommy was just mean.

“Yes but you’ll have to put on your headphones.”

Emily pulls the headphones out of her bag and puts them on, forgetting to plug the wire into the tablet. Dana laughs and climbs out, reaching back into the car to unbuckle Emily and plug the wire in. Dana guiding a screen-hypnotised Emily, they both walk into the office building.

…

She meets Ellie at one of the desks. The girl wearily eyes Dana and Emily before smiling that fake customer facing smile.

“Maria will be in her office. Follow me.” And Dana does, following Ellie to the end of the hall. Two knocks and when a voice on the other side of the door bids them entry, Ellie opens it.

“Dana Scully is here to see you,” says Ellie.

“Send her in,” says the voice.

Ellie opens the door wider and Dana walks into the room.

“You can go now, Ellie.” And Ellie does so, closing the door behind her.

The woman- Monica- does a once over of Dana.

“I’m sorry,” Dana says immediately. Between the looks Ellie gave her and now the looks Monica is giving her, she knows she isn’t making a great first impression appearance wise. “I just didn’t intend on coming here today.”

“That’s okay,” says Monica. “Who is this?” she asks with interest and a big smile at the sight of Emily.

“My daughter, Emily—” Emily is oblivious, her eyes still glued to the screen. Dana looks wearily towards the other woman.

“You know, a lot of our clients don’t like giving screens to children,” Monica says in a tone that is gentle but still conveys a certain amount of warning.

“I know. And I don’t usually like it either but she’s so restless, she’d only be pilfering through your stuff, she’s very curious. The screen gives her something to focus on, it keeps her quiet, it…” Dana trails off. She knows she isn’t making much of an effort to defend herself, coming up with excuses here and there. “I just needed her to be quiet for now,” Dana says honestly. “I try to restrict her screen time.” A half lie, she did try when she lived with Ethan.

“Sit,” says Monica. “Let’s have a little chat.”

The woman guides the two of them over to the chairs at her desk. Dana helps Emily onto her seat before sitting down herself. Monica watches, beady eyed. When everyone is settled, Monica speaks.

“I don’t often do this but we’ve had a client seeking a nanny recently,” explains Monica and Dana hangs on to every word. “She’s desperate, almost, and we’re fully booked. Or we were, until you called. Now, we will have to do background checks, make sure you’re legit, it’ll take about three days but if everything comes back clean, which in most cases it does, the job is yours. Would you like it?”

Dana can barely believe it. She smiles brightly and nods.

“Yes, of course.”

Monica smiles back. “Great. Let me get you a form.” She wanders over to a filing cabinet and pulls the top drawer open. Dana takes her chance.

“Um…I wondered if I could also get a proof of employment in those three days as well. I’m hoping to get onto a housing list.”

Monica pauses and sighs. “Unfortunately Dana, you have to pass your probation before we can give you anything like that.”

Dana’s heart sinks once more. “And how long is the probation?”

“Three months.”

Dana gawks. Three months! She can’t live in her car for three months. She looks away, willing herself not to cry.

“I also have to ask what you intend to do with Emily when you’re at work. We’re you intending on taking her along too or do you have somewhere to put her, someone she can stay with?”

“Would she be allowed to come with me?”

Monica sighs again. “It’s not advised. You’re protected under insurance if anything was to happen to you while at the house. Emily, however, would not be. It is a risk.”

Dana looks at Emily then. Who knows what type of person this client could be. She could be risking Emily’s safety taking her with her. But where else could she go? To go back home would mean seeing Ethan. Family is…tricky. Melissa isn’t cut out for caring for a child- not to mention if she’d be in any state to even do so- she hasn’t spoken to her parents since Emily’s fifth birthday and that ended in an argument between her and her father, Ethan’s mother despises her and while she loves Emily she’ll only accept Emily if Ethan is the one dropping her off. There was one last person, the only one who has actually offered any support for Dana in the five years she’s been a mother but she too comes at a risk.

But, depending on hours, a risk Dana was willing to make.

“Yeah,” she says. “I have someone she can stay with.”

“Brilliant,” says Monica. She hands the form to Dana. “Fill this in as quickly as possible.”

…

Diana Fowley is the name of the woman who’s kids she’ll be looking after. Two boys: William who was the same age as Emily and Arthur who was three. Simple. Easy. She can do this.

Diana is a lawyer and, according to Monica, going through a divorce. It’s messy, the father’s contact with the boys is limited to weekends or whatever reason and originally, he was the stay at home dead while she was the breadwinner. Now this divorce has meant Diana has to look at other options.

Dana can’t help but compare this father to Ethan. She could never imagine Ethan as a stay at home parent- that was relegated to her- for pride mostly but also for controlling reasons. If Dana has no income herself then she can never leave, forever dependant on Ethan for a home, for financial support. She wishes she could see his face now. I got a job, Ethan. Turns out I’m not as stupid as you made me think.

Not that she was ever stupid. She has a quarter of a physics degree, had a direct path into medicine. A doctor she was going to be, a heart surgeon of all things. She was Emily’s age when she decided that that was what her career was going to be. She had it all worked out: married at 30, a kid two years later. Only the marriage never came, the kid nine years too early.

Dana doesn’t regret Emily, she doesn’t blame Emily for how her life has turned out. Emily is her entire world, Dana just wishes she hadn’t been 21.

“What do you want to be when you grow up, Emily?” Dana asks as they drive down a suburb.

The tablet is still on, now playing Ratatouille.

“A chef!”

This would be wonderful news if, when Dana asked her a few days ago, Emily hadn’t replied with dentist because she was watching Finding Nemo. She expects her daughter’s answer would’ve been a superhero if she’d been watching The Incredibles. But whatever path her daughter choices, Dana just hopes she’s able to become whatever she wants.

Her stomach twists as the house looms in front of her. Bill’s house she thinks as her hands squeeze the steering wheel. No, Tara’s, Dana corrects. If she stays it’s Tara’s house then it is a lot less daunting.

“Where are we, Mommy?”

“You’re going to spend the day with Auntie Tara, baby.”

Emily recoils.

“I hate Auntie Tara!”

“Emily!” Dana admonishes, spinning around. “You don’t hate anyone. Auntie Tara loves you. She wants to see you.”

Tears come to Emily’s eyes as she furiously shakes her head.

“I don’t want to!” the child cries. “I don’t like Auntie Tara. I want to go home! I want Daddy! Why won’t you let me see Daddy?!”

Dana sighs preparing herself for another Emily tantrum.

“Take me to Daddy!” Emily’s foot kicks the back of Dana’s chair. “I want to see Daddy!” Kick. Daddy. Kick. Daddy. Kick. Daddy.

Dana closes her eyes, focuses on her breath, breathing in and out, in and out. She reopens her eyes.

“Emily,” she says quietly, not rising to her daughter’s level. “I need Tara to look after you today.”

“Why can’t Daddy?”

“Daddy’s busy.”

“But I haven’t seen him in years!”

She reminds herself that it’s only been a week.

“I know and we will see Daddy soon but for now, I need you to go with Auntie Tara until Mommy gets back, okay?”

“Where are you going?”

“I told you, Mommy has to go to work.”

The concept was baffling to the child.

“But you stay at home…” Emily says with a frown.

Dana smiles. “Not anymore. We need to find a house—”

“We have a house- Daddy’s house.”

Dana unbuckles her seatbelt and climbs out of the car. She opens Emily’s door, unbuckles Emily, and kneels down in front of her.

“I need you to listen to me, Emily. Daddy is a bad person. Do you know what a bad person is?”

Emily nods. “They hurt you.”

Dana nods in return. “They do. That’s what Daddy did- he hurt me. He almost hurt you.” She wipes a stray tear from her child’s face. “So I got us out of there. That is why we can’t go back home, we can’t go back to Daddy. I’m gonna get us a new house where nobody can hurt us but I need you to stay with Tara so I can do that. Do you think you can do that?”

Emily pauses, thinking it over hard as if she had any choice in the matter.

“Daddy was shouting and you were crying.” Emily frowns as if trying to remember. “And something hitted my head.”

Dana nods again, tears now coming to her own eyes. She thought maybe Emily would have forgotten that night. Clearly not. “It was a glass cup, baby. Daddy threw a glass cup and it almost hit you.”

Emily’s eyes widen. “Why? Did I do something wrong? Do I make Daddy angry?”

Dana’s heart breaks a million times over, the gravel currently cutting into her knees didn’t hurt as much as this. She gathers Emily into her embrace.

“No, baby girl…” She breaths in her unique Emily scent. “You don’t make anybody angry. Daddy meant to…” She stops herself. Daddy meant to throw it at me she almost says. “He didn’t mean to throw it at you. But it did get you so that’s why we had to leave.”

“Daddy let’s me have bubbles and ducks in the bath.”

Dana smiles despite having nothing to smile about. How difficult to must be to understand that the Daddy who gives Emily bubbles and ducks is the same Daddy who screamed at Mommy, made her cry, and threw a glass cup.

“I’ll tell you what,” Dana proposes, pulling away and looking at Emily once more. “If you stay with Tara now, when we get our new house, you can have all the bubbles and ducks you want.”

“I want a duck bedroom. Painted yellow. With little ducks like Quacky.”

Dana sniffles, giggling through her tears. “You can have that as well. You can have anything you want.”

Emily smiles, tears and tantrums over. Another tear falls from Dana’s own eyes and Emily reaches forward, wiping one away.

“Don’t cry, Mommy. You can have bubbles and ducks, too.”

In that moment, every single thing Dana has endured feels 100% worth it if it meant Emily got to be here. She pulls Emily back into a hug.

“I love you, baby girl. So, so much.”

“I love you, too, Mommy.”

Dana presses little kisses all over Emily face until the child laughs and squirms away. Then she stands and Emily resumes watching her movie. Dana knocks on Tara’s front door.

#the x-files #the x files #txf fic #xfiles fanfiction #scullysexualwrites

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go-river-flows · 1 year

Text

Forget Me Not (one shot)

Summary: What happens to that girl who tried so hard to be invisible for her whole life? Will she remain invisible on the face of Pandora? Or will she be part of something bigger?

(5379 words)

I'm a nobody. Or at least I think I am. Arriving on Pandora was supposed to be an exciting, thrilling, new chapter of my life. But what would a naive twenty-three year old, fresh out of university student know. Apparently nothing.

All the paperwork was tossed to me. All the reports stacked high on my desk. No acknowledgements from anyone as I sit at my table for hours. Sure I was a hardworking individual who spent half her life studying to be a Pilot. Whilst studying to be an Environmental Conservationist. But now I'm stuck in the barren lands known as Hell’s Gate, fantastic. I say with sarcasm. I want to be outside studying the flora, fauna and Na’vi. That's what I wanted to do. To be part of the science team. I studied hard to be a top student, and even harder to support myself through that. And to be offered a position in the RDA. But apparently, they only wanted me to be a damn administrator. Get someone else dammit! I don't know anyone’s names in the science department, and neither do they know mine. It's just ‘hey, you’ or ‘you girl’ or ‘paperwork girl’. At least I was helicopter trained, and had my own Aerospatiale SA-2 Samson that I can call home. My dad, who was an airline pilot, would be proud.

I stay at my desk for hours on end, the pile not getting any smaller. I need to take a different approach. Standing up, I pick up the pile, my water bottle and extra pens just in case they run out. Running off to a quiet spot where no one goes in the large facility. Slapping the pile on the wide ledge of the window, I plug in my headphones to my Zune (a music player). It had nearly eight-thousand songs on it, so it will last me hours. It is the only way to calm me as I listen to my favourites, tapping my foot as Iisten to them. I start separating the pile labelling them as important, not so important, denied, unfinished reports and WTF? Hahaha, I don't know how that happened. I laugh internally.

Starting with Important, I sit on the cold floor skim reading everything then confirming everything with a signature and stamp of approval, shit! I forgot my stamp! Um, I can do it when I get back to my desk. The Important pile was complete in a matter of twenty minutes to my surprise.

Moving onto the Unfinished Reports, this takes a little longer. About an hour, but that was no problem. My fingers were a bit sore from clutching the pen but after a while the pain dulled.

Next was Not So Important. This too was a breeze when there were no distractions. My foot tapping to Your Blood by Nothing But Thieves. Taking a quick water break, I look out the window into the tall green trees in the distance.

Moving on to Unfinished Reports, this one too much longer. Some were almost completed, halfway done, or haven't started. Urgh, I sigh to myself. Getting my head down, I think I finished two hours later. My ass was getting sore so I stood up and started stretching, doing a small work out routine, even started to attempt climbing the corner of the wall to see how high I could get before falling down. All in a day's work.

Finally getting to the WTF pile, I thought it was best to give it to another person who knew what all these papers were. Stacking everything back in different angles and tucking my water bottle under my arm, shoving the pens into my hoodie pocket, I grabbed the pile and made my way back to my desk. Still with my headphones on.

Turning the corner, someone who wasn't looking collided into me sending all my pile onto the floor.

“Shit!” I cursed, kneeling down to grab the documents. Luckily the way they fell was in a line which made it easier to pick up. The soldiers continued walking much to my dismay, not even batting an eye. After picking the stack I promptly returned to the science department, forgetting my water bottle in the process.

Nodding along to the music, I returned to my desk, now various piles stacked from edge to edge with paperwork, I closed my eyes in frustration just standing there brows knitted together. I think there are now permanent lines between my brows. Throwing my head back, I let out an exasperated sigh with all the weight of air in my lungs out sounding like a vuvuzela. People turned to stare, but I didn't care at this point. Turning to the person nearest to me, who happened to be a guy in a wheelchair, I plopped the completed stack in my hands onto his lap (sorry man), leaving without another word. Storming off to my bedroom.

For the next few days, I stayed in my bedroom, which thankfully had it's own bathroom, minifridge and kitchenette. No one knocked on my door thankfully and I had everything I needed within reach. I lay in bed, half covered by my blanket as the pitter pattering of rain beat down onto my window. But what was bothering me was the room next door, 215. The two horny kids (not really kids) had been going at it for hours. I could hear them moan, groan, yell, scream and pant the whole time. At least I know one who the guy is, “Miles”. I pushed my pillow against my ears, which helped a bit but I was getting irritated. I just reached for my Zune and put on Nirvana, increasing the volume to the point it was over my neighbours incessant horny noises, and maybe a little more, drowning them out. Sorry to the neighbour on my other side. But they could probably hear the sex sounds too so I'm just protecting them from that, especially the somewhat loud moan of pleasure when they came, I would applaud if I weren’t so irked by the noise. After five songs, I decreased my volume to check if they were still going, and they had finished. Thank god. Turning my music most of the way down, and turning it off. I could finally doze off into sleepy land exhaustion catching up sooner than I thought.

The next morning I was well rested, but still tired. My arms were numb from sleeping on them and my legs were feeling like static, all pins and needles stabbing from all angles. I did some light stretching and yoga in the small space of my tiny apartment. Brushing my teeth and washing my face, getting dressed in loose fitting trousers and short-long sleeve shirt combo. I opened the door just as 215 opened their’s, turning to look as a much older but attractive man stopped in his tracks, realised he got caught, but I acted faster. Taking a step back into my room and closing the door in my own face.

That must be Miles. I stood there for a moment, and after hearing 215’s door shut, I assumed he must have walked away, but to my surprise a sudden knock on my door startled me. What the fuck? My face contorted into slight horror as I took four steps back, mortified at what was happening. But in my sudden realisation, I forgot to lock my door. Lunging for the lock, I quickly turned it and tread back to my bed, the furthest point away from the door, the knocking persisted as I sat on the edge of my bed. Oh, I'm dead.

This ‘Miles’ person knocked on my door for five minutes. Before they decided to give up, but I didn't move from my position for another five, hoping they’d just leave. Calming myself down, taking a deep breath. I treaded lightly to my door, pressing my ear to it. I didn't hear any footsteps or hear a person on the other side. I just wanted to go to work dammit! A short quiet knock scared me, it sounded different to the harsh, firm and powerful knocks form earlier so I assumed it was someone else.

Unlocking the door, I opened it a bit and it indeed was someone else. My neighbour, Paz. I let out a sigh of relief.

“Hey Paz,” I meekly greeted through the tiny gap.

“Hey (Y/N), I just wanted to apologise for last night, didn't know you were still up,” she spoke softly.

“Oh no, it's fine,” it's not fine, “I wanted to give you this. As an apology,” I looked down in her hand, a cupcake with blue frosting with a ‘Y’ in white. “Oh, wow. Thank you. But you didn't have to do that,” I mirrored her tone as she took my hand, putting the cupcake onto it. She gave a small toothy smile as if she knew.

“Did you meet Miles?” my eyes darted to hers, twitching slightly. She stifled a laugh at that, “I'll take that as a yes then. Well, I've got to take off. See ya around.” She turned to leave, giving a small wave. I did the same.

I trudged my way to the science department, expecting the huge pile to still be there but surprisingly wasn't. Taking the white coat from the back of it, I put the cupcake down on the table before putting on the coat. Checking the pockets, I found a neon green sticky note. Sorry for stressing you out :(. And another one, Take as much time as you need :(. And another, this time a neon pink and in cursive: We’ve taken our workload off you. Sorry for dumping all of our work on you, we appreciate you. :(

I looked around the room, catching some people's gaze, others looking away hoping that I would stop staring. But no one actually came forward to apologise to my face. I scrunched up the post it notes. Shoving them back in my pocket, I took my cupcake and walked away. Finding myself back at the same window I normally go to. Sitting on the windowsill with my legs crossed, I munched down into the cupcake. Red Velvet, yum. It was really good too. I think maybe it was Paz’s birthday, since there was a ‘Y’ or maybe a promotion. Butwho cares, it's a cupcake.

Wiping the corner of my mouth with my white sleeve, I sighed. But I wanted a change in scenery. I trudged through the halls to where all the samsons are kept, I made a maintenance check, sitting in the cockpit, I double checked all controls, switches, lights and emergency exo packs. Then I moved to the weapons and attachments, making sure they weren't rusted or loose in any way shape or form. Even the two missile pods that aren't really my specialty. Finally getting to the propulsion system. Everything was in order as I checked down the list, a lone figure on the catwalk catching my eye. Turning to look at the stranger, I quickly whipped my head back after realising who it was, getting whiplash in the moment and somehow choking on air at the same time. Rubbing my neck and wincing at the sudden movement, whilst covering my mouth as I struggle to breathe properly. Miles. Moving out of his line of sight as I'm hitting my sternum to stop. I got out my samson, and sped away, unaware that the man was still staring at me.

I ran to the inspection office giving the guy there, I think his name is Markus, my inspection report and he gave his stamp of approval storing it in the cabinet behind him. He thanked me before I sped off again. Running back to the science department.

Luckily there were only four folders on my table. I sat down and flicked through them. Ignoring people around me, I put my headphones back on and turned my Zune on, playing the Unity album by Spiral Drive. My foot tapped to the beat of the songs as I made notes on the documents.

When suddenly someone comes into my peripheral vision scaring the shit out of me. I turn to look and make eye contact with the guy in the wheelchair. The guy I dumped all the completed paperwork on. Oh crap.

“Hi,” he extends his hand out, I genially take his hand to shake, “I'm Jake. Nice to meetcha.”

“(Y/N). Sorry about the thing a few days ago. I was having a bad day,” I pulled my hand back. He chuckled.

“Yeah, it looked like it,” I blushed a bit, “What’re you working on?” he raised his head a little. Looking down at the report in front of her.

“Uh, just double checking other people’s reports. All the boring stuff,” I shot an awkward smile.

It was all boring, all useless. My eyes trail on the paper in front of me, forgetting a little that the paraplegic is still next to me watching my shifting expression and eyes. What am I doing here? I ask myself again. A question I keep asking myself every single day since landing on Pandora. Jake puts a hand on my shoulder blade pulling me from my thoughts, jolting at the sudden physical contact my face flushed a little. I suddenly remembered the night before. Looking at Jake with wide eyes as he retracted his hand. I get a good look at his face, why does he look so familiar? My expression gives it away. That expression of familiarity, when you frown a little as the wheels in your head turn, my eye twitched.

A few years ago back on earth.

I was working at the bar taking orders, the patrons getting a little restless as I’m working as fast as I can. A head pops into view as one of the usuals is tapping his glass on the table for a refill. Sam the manager shoved me aside to take care of the usual customer, as I was grabbing drink after drink for customers. Eventually they disperse when they get their drinks and I get a chance to take a breather.

“Hey! Can I get a few shots?” A voice from out of view asks, I lean over the counter to see a guy in a wheelchair.

“Sure, I’ll get that for you,” Sam speaks up, tapping my shoulder and gesturing me away. Okay, then.

I walk into the staff room to get my textbook, and come back out as Sam puts the shots on a small tray, gesturing to me to take it for the guy. Putting my textbook on the counter and taking the tray of five shots, moving around the counter.

“Where'd ya want these?” I ask the guy as he points to the ledge of the pool table, I carefully put the tray on the ledge, balancing it on the corner shooting a short but tight lined smile. Returning to grab my textbook I found a quiet corner in the bar and started reading it, flicking through notes, and revising for a repeat test that I previously failed. Rubbing my temples in annoyance as I didn’t understand why it was so difficult to remember. I’m not dumb, but I’m not that smart. I prefer to just get my pilot's licence and pull out of school at this point, but my mother (who is divorced) would not be happy, nor would my step father who pushed me to get a degree in Environmental Conservation in the first place.

What a dickhead for being one of those hippie freaks that chain themselves to the last standing tree on Earth. That’s where they were right now, chained to the last standing camphor tree in the Amazon rainforest. Because they’d rather be there than here. I mean, I get it. It’s the last tree, but they can get someone else to chain themselves there, someone who doesn’t have family or children, but I guess the heart wants what the heart wants. So here I am supporting myself through school because they wouldn’t pay for it even though they forced me into getting a damn degree in Environmental Conservation. Yay me! I say with sarcasm. I guess that’s also why I didn’t make any friends in my class or contribute anything.

Heck, even my dad wants me to drop out after seeing how miserable I was, depressed was how he put it. Yes I was, no, I am depressed. Fuck this shit! And fuck the paper the professor assigned! I wanted to throw this piece of garbage in the garbage. My eyes were pricking with tears, as I tried to hide my reddening eyes.

The next day I didn’t go to any classes, just stayed the whole day in Sam's bar. And the next, and the next. By the following day my EnviroCon professor stopped me in the hallway as I was leaving another professor’s office. Asking for the paper that was due in the next few days, just to read over any drafts. I sighed and explained that I was having a bad week and if I could just email it to him since I've finished my first draft, mailing it to him there and then. He opened it up in front of me on his holo tablet and skimmed it.

“This is fantastic! This is a draft? Man, you might as well submit it just as it is. Just add a few points here in this section,” he pointed out, he looked at me with slight concern, as I just nodded my head, “Hey, you alright? You look tired, have you been resting?”

“Not really,“ I leant against the wall, “I've been working all week and just trying my best,” letting out a deep exhale, “I don't know if I should just drop out. I'm so tired,” my voice cracked.

“Woah, woah woah. Hey, it's okay,” he put a reassuring hand on my shoulder, “You must be burning out. If you need more time to finish the paper, I can give it to you. If you're struggling, you can always come talk to me,” he calmed me down. For some reason, I felt like I was seen at that moment. Even when I tried so hard to be invisible. For every single day, the same guy in the wheelchair frequenting the bar.

Back to the present day.

That recognition whipped back to me, the guy in the wheelchair. The same one who repeatedly came to Sam’s bar. Getting drunk off his ass and getting thrown out, one too many times.

“You don't remember me?” I blurt out. He looked at me confused, “Of course you don't.” I stand up now no longer facing him, “Just like everyone else. I guess I have that kind of face,” I look down at him with tears in my eyes, but a sad but somewhat bright smile, I laugh a little trudging off to my window again. Hugging my knees as my feet propped up, I can't stop spilling tears. Remembering my professor's words “If you're struggling, you can always come talk to me,” like a distant memory. He was no longer around. The only person who actually saw me, despite me trying so hard to be invisible. I wish I could just disappear into the Pandoran forest. Pack up all my necessities and disappear. Like I've always wanted. Fading away into obscurity. I think about it for a moment. Oh wait, I can.

For days I prepare, make an emergency bag. I can go whenever I want, but I need to wait for the perfect opportunity. I learnt everything I needed. How to survive, the na’vi language, packing any foods that don't expire (non perishables), all that stuff. Hiding it in the ballistics storage in the rear of my samson.

That opportunity came when the human’s declared war on the Na’vi. The man who I now know as Colonel Miles Quaritch who destroyed Hometree. That was the day I saw what a monster looked like. I was one of the pilots who didn't shoot, my hand hovering over the red button as my co-pilot was yelling at me, but I couldn't do it. I'm not a monster like him. I turned the samson around, it's not my fight. But surprisingly I wasn't the only one. I had morals like the other person who turned around. As she flew back, she radioed me.

“Why are you turning back?” I could hear her through the isolated frequency.

“Because I'm not a monster,” was all I said. My co-pilot and the other trigger happy soldiers in my samson yelling at me to turn back around.

As we returned to Hell’s Gate, landing next to each other on the flightline, I felt a gun held to my temple, the soldier yelling profanities at me, calling me a traitor. A traitor to humanity.

“Shoot me! Go ahead! Shoot me!” I yelled back at him, he was shocked when I looked at him with furious tears streaming down my face, “If you want to commit alien genocide, then start by killing me!”

“PUT DOWN THE GUN! Now!” the same voice from earlier screamed. Trudy Chacon was her name I think. I never really asked before, she’d forget me too. She was pointing a hand held at the soldier taking my hand and pulling me away, back into Hell’s Gate.

“Are you on our side?” Chacon suddenly asked.

“What?” I questioned, tired, confused and exhausted with all the questions.

“Are you on our side? Because you turned around, and you didn't shoot any of your missiles,” she simply said, I’ll just nod so she goes away, “Okay then. You know how to throw a punch?” I sighed, nodding again. “Great! Then come with me.”

She dragged me with her as a scientist ran up to us. Patel, Dr Max Patel.

“They’ve put Grace, Norm and Jake in a cell,” he said frantically, shooting a glance at me.

“Great, looks like a rescue mission. Let's go,” we moved into that direction then slowed as Trudy picked up an empty food cart, “I've got an idea, just follow my lead. She gestured to us to stay behind the wall before she called for us. She walked through the door first, then ordered the guard to get down on the ground, hearing a thud after a loud smack she called for Max as I stayed behind the wall, just next to the door. When suddenly the elevator door opened, as someone was stepping out, I moved to kicked them in the gut, punching his throat and punching him in the face knocking him out, I removed his gun and knife that he had on him, turning to Trudy, Max, Grace, Norm and Jake who were watching in wide-eyed awe. I averted my eyes as Trudy gave me a thumbs up and we hustled. Getting to the door to the flightline. Trudy turned to me.

“Could you stay here? I need someone on the inside, can you do that?” I gave a simple nod, Trudy squeezed my shoulder, “Thank you.”

As they got away, Max turned to me.

“So you're on our side?” he asked.

“I guess so,” I made my way back to my room, passing by the medical ward. Glancing in I saw Paz, her belly swollen as she was 9 months pregnant, about to pop at any moment. Getting to my room, I grabbed my Zune and headphones. I trudged down the hallway, making my way to the science department. Passing by the medical ward again, this time fully stopping when I heard the cries of a baby. I turned a few steps back looking through the small window. There was a baby, a little boy. But the sound of machines droned into a flatline. Paz. I don't know why, but I pushed open the door. Walking toward the scene. The baby was wailing. The doctor who held him turned to look at me. He was frantic, not in his right mind when he put the baby in my arms, I held the baby as he cried making sure to hold his neck properly. The Zune still in my hand, I scrolled through my library finding a calming tune. Hitting play, the only calming song played out: Sweet Child by Simply Red.

Surprisingly the baby began to calm down. The doors behind me slamming open. Quaritch sped past me to Paz’s side, he was yelling for her. And as the song came to an end he turned to me. Baby in my arms. His wet reddened eyes fell on the baby as a small gasp escaped his lips.

“Congratulations. It's a boy,” I whispered, somehow sounding cold. But he didn't care, taking the baby from my arms I dropped my arms as my legs dropped out from under me. He doesn't get to be this. Whatever this is. Not after what he did. Not after he destroyed a home. But what can I do right? I have no right to tell him what to do. But my furious eyes and tears gave it away. But he only looked at his baby. My RDA shirt was stained in blood and bodily fluid. I slowly got up and walked out, wanting nothing but to wash it all away.

It was a blur but I made it back to my tiny apartment, stripping everything off, I stepped into the shower scrubbing everything off me. Turning the water temperature higher to melt away everything I was feeling.

For some reason I kept on visiting the medical ward again, looking at the baby in the incubator. The nurse was staring at me, trying to figure me out. Someone came to a stand next to me. His intimidating aura gives him away. The baby’s father. I didn't want to look at him, not after what he did.

“You're (Y/N) right? Paz told me. I think I ‘ave something of yours,” he held out my water bottle, my name hand written on it in front of my face. My eyes honed in on it but didn't reach for it, only closing my eyes and sighing heavily, genially taking it from his hand. He doesn’t deserve to have this. Even coming from me who spent her whole life trying to appease her mother, all for the sake of approval and love. Only to get it from my father who I found I loved even more.

“Fuck,” I mumbled, this is fucked up. Miles’ ears perked up at my curse. I rubbed my face, trying to not cry. I’m done with crying for others. But Miles misunderstood my curse, what it actually meant. He wrapped his warm arm around my shoulder, why did it have to be warm pulling me into his side. This is fucked up. I repeated in my head. Paz didn’t deserve this, nor did Miles, but by Eywa I would do anything for this kid, even though I’m not his mother or parent.

“You must have been close to Paz. She talked about you sometimes, she said sometimes she can hear you cry through the walls, and said they sounded heartbreaking. But she also said that you were kind to others and spoke softly, that you kept everything on the inside and put on a brave face,” his voice was almost kind, and I choked out a sob. Not realising that I stopped breathing for a moment. Stop, just stop. You don’t get to be kind. You don’t get to comfort me. You don’t deserve a child. I was weeping, my knees giving out again, I crouched as I covered my mouth wanting to vomit. He knelt next to me and brought me into his embrace, his rough hand rubbing my back as he tried calming me. Stop, please I’m begging you. Please stop! You don’t deserve to be warm! My tears were furious and shameful.

“Ssshhhh, hey it’s okay,” Miles’ raspy southern accent drooling out, in the massive difference to my stepfather’s tone. So similar to my fathers comforting voice. A tighter pull as I didn’t pull away. I’m a mess. I don’t deserve this. He’s a monster, he doesn’t deserve this. Eyes, why does it have to be this way?

I silently made a vow to myself that this kid won’t suffer the same fate. Some day the kid will learn the truth and I’ll be the one to tell him.

“What will you name him?” I quietly asked Miles. He looked at me with a bit of curiosity and paused to think..

“How about…Miles?”

I laughed a little, of course he would name the baby after him.

“Miles junior,” I chuckled, how fitting. “It suits him.” I laughed a bit more, not caring if he thought I was a mad woman. “Something bad is coming, Quaritch. I have a feeling that the baby won’t have a father soon.”

He looked at me with concern, the softness remained, “Why'd ya say that?”

“Because you’ve started a war. Nothing good ever comes from war. You have to take responsibility for it. You’ll die before you get to raise your child, I hope you see that before you make a mistake you’ll regret. And I’ll be here to raise your kid because I’m not fighting in your war,” my monotone voice sounded so cold, colder than I've ever sounded before. He didn't say anything, the silence was killing me more. I turned to look at him dead in the eyes. This was the most serious I've ever been. His adam's-apple bobbed as if he was holding in the air. He finally let go, standing and quickly walking off, I watched him go.

When Quaritch gathered the soldiers, effectively immediately ending the RDAs research and avatar programme, shutting the whole operation down. I sat in the chair as everyone started packing things into boxes. I had hidden an expensive bottle of rum that was given as a birthday gift from my father before being shipped out to Pandora. As the crowd quieted down I took it out, I poured some into mugs around the department, as scientists and avatar drivers silently sipped on the aged and smoky rum. As reality hit us that we would either be shipped off back to earth or remain on Pandora. Even Trudy was there as I passed the bottle to her.

“If anything happens to me, take care of my baby,” Trudy said to me, referring to her samson. Those would be her last words to me.

“Don't forget me if anything happens,” I returned to her. She simply nodded. Unfortunately Grace would die that night and we would mourn her.

And when the war started it was chaotic. The avatars decided to revolt against the Selfridge, nothing was holding them back any more, we were no longer a part of the RDA. In fact, I helped through unsympathetic anger and being used as a pawn in their schemes. Max sat next to me in my samson as I fired bullets to the communication tower windows as the avatar drivers wielding guns ordered everyone to drop any weapons and get down on the ground, effectively stopping any communication to their war party.

The promise I made came to fruition. The war ended in an hour and a half at most. The Na’vi won by a landslide, and I learn that Trudy died and her samson was destroyed into smithereens. Miles Quaritch died at the hands of a Na’vi. And I would be holding his baby in my arms. Miles Jr Socorro. The little boy cooed his hand reaching out, the noises he made melted my cold heart a little. To protect the innocence that I wished I had growing up. I would make a new promise. To take care of the baby, so that he is seen and never forgotten.

Jake asked me to stay on Pandora, and I accepted. Remaining at Hell’s Gate with Max, Norm and the other avatar drivers that remained. And I would raise the baby as if he was my own son. In the end I realised I was never forgotten, just left behind for something greater.

A/N: I know this is supposed to be a one-shot, but if you want a part 2, I'll be more than happy to make one. Also, Im changing the taglist from word doc to excel with multiple sections for different stories, so it'll make it easier to keep track. And also because Tumblr is a being a bit of an a**hole on my side.

Taglist: @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed

#avatar #avatar x reader #avatar x you #avatar x y/n #avatar x human reader #avatar fanfiction #avatar fanfic

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spade-riddles · 6 months

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Thought it was interesting that Taylor said she "pushed people away" after Snakegate because she thought she couldn't trust anyone. The implication being that she was wrong, and shut out people who just wanted to support her.

I understand why the girls let the feud narrative sustain itself for so long, but I can't imagine Taylor is really okay with people believing Karlie would EVER stab her in the back by colluding with Scooter. That seems like something she'd want to put to bed if she could. Riddles have hinted for years now that a reexamination of the Rep era would exonerate Karlie's reputation, and this does seem like a perfect opportunity to do that.

I don't know, even as an outsider, there's just something sickening about the fact that people are still talking shit and believing all these toxic rumors about Karlie, when we know she was actually Ms "I'll always have Taylor's back", "she built a fire to keep me warm" at this time. I'm a nobody and it makes me angry. I can't imagine how Taylor feels about it. I wonder if her comments about pushing people away were sowing seeds for a future reunion. Either to rewrite the narrative and prove Karlie stayed all along, as a loyal friend in secret, or to give us a narrative of "I was wrong, I pushed Karlie away, I pushed her into the wedding with Josh because I couldn't be brave and have faith in someone who NEVER did anything not to deserve it".

I could see us getting a song like this on Rep, something like Question?, that really spells out this whole concept in a way fans can't deny. To this day, I have never seen an explanation for that song that even halfway makes sense, if it's not about Kissgate. It's basically DWOHT, retold through time and distance. Taylor used Suburban Legends the same way on 1989 TV, so I could absolutely see this happening.

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rdiowx · 2 months

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DONNIE X MALE! GOTH STONER READER :p

warnings!: weed obviously, awkward donnie like usual, gay stuff, iowa boringness (real), mrs. Farmer mentions 😒, sticking to trad goth for the sake of not making this a million pages long.

—☆

First off before you start dating he’s very drawn to you, you’re probably one of the most unique people he’s laid eyes on considering where he lives

Awkward as fuck trying to talk to you, he thinks you’re the coolest person He’s ever seen

Stumbles over his words while you stare at him with your cool makeup and cool rings and cool clothes and when he finally gets the words out you have a smirk on your face and he swears he came in his pants

When youre actually in a relationship hes still awkward but like,,, boyfriend awkward yk?

Loves goth music, sisters of mercy, Lebanon Hanover, London after midnight, bauhaus, you name it he loves it

Loves getting high with you and listening to goth music too, such a nice experience.

Tries to make out with you during it and it ends up all sloppy and spit filled 😭

Accidentally tells his therapist about it 😒

Speaking of she knows all about you

Anyways

Lets you do his makeup like once but then doesnt let you do it again cause he hates the feeling of makeup on his face

Loves to watch you do yours though

You end up with your black lipstick smudged and donnie smiling with black lipstick all over his lips and face

He always laughs at the black and/or white face paint on the blunt when you pass it to him

Probably draws you all the time, you’re very interesting to draw.

Considering there isnt much to do in iowa you mainly go on walks or if you’re allowed to drive you drive to a place with a pretty view while playing goth music on your cassettes

Speaking of donnie probably made them for you, he remembers you talking about liking the songs so he put them on a cassette for you :3

You probably think frank looks sick as fuck (cuz he does obviously)

You both get high as shit and start talking about the meaning of life or some shit

Makes you drive him home from school most of the time

Passes you notes in class and has only gotten caught once (it was by mrs farmer and he had to read “do you want to come over and fuck after school” out loud in the most monotone voice in front of everyone while you tried your hardest not to laugh)

NSFW STUFF !!!:

First off, high sex all the time.

Super sloppy and kinda messy but you cant bring yourself to care cuz you both feel so good

He’s whiny and shit and i cannot imagine he wouldnt be.

Probably giggly too.

Made a cassette for whenever you do have high sex but you both forget to turn it on 80% of the time or you just cant be bothered to separate

Sometimes high sex just ends halfway through cuz you’re both too tired to move so you just cockwarm him or he cockwarms you and you fall asleep 😭

Sometimes you both skip mrs farmers class to go get high and fuck in the bathroom nobody uses.

You got caught by mrs farmer more than once and got suspended lol

Helps you fix your makeup after (gives you a handjob while you fix your makeup in the mirror you keep in your bag.)

By the time you get done its time for last period smh

All in all its a fun time

#donnie darko hcs #donnie darko x reader #donnie darko fanfic #jake gyllenhaal x reader

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apphiarothowrites · 10 months

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Nothing but the truth

Nobody notices anything is wrong with Marco for a full two days after the fact. He doesn't blame them-it's not a habit or instinct of his to lie. Hell, he hadn't known anything was wrong with himself until dinner when Thatch shoved a plate of pie into his hands and despite his attempt to be polite about it, he somehow said "Oh, I'm not going to be able to eat this" instead of "Thanks."

Thatch barely batted an eye at the time, waving him off with a "Then give it to Ace!", already engrossed in passing dessert out to some puppy-eyed deckhands from the Second Division. Still, the fact that he couldn't pass off his dislike of this particular pie-chocolate mousse-like normal is what tipped him off.

He tests it throughout the next day. First with his first officer, Mala, during paperwork after breakfast. He opens a conversation about paint colors for a theoretical redecoration of his quarters, Mala asks his opinion about the color orange, and he tries his absolute damnedest to say he hates it with every fiber of his being. Instead what comes out is, "I love orange. Reminds me of Ace-yoi."

And while his attraction to Ace hasn't exactly been a secret in his own Division, Mala's eyebrows rise above the rims of their glasses regardless. He's usually much more subtle about it, quieter. He's never said much about it out loud, let alone so directly.

Later in the day, in deference to how close he got to just blurting something out that he isn't exactly keen on being known, he changes tactics. After a near disaster during lunch--Namur lamenting his shore leave will be cut short to supervise a supply pick-up for his Division that Marco nearly volunteers himself for--he switches to nonverbal answers.

Nods, shakes of the head, shrugging of the shoulders, a hand wavering in the air "so-so". He keeps his opinions honest, but practical and gentle. "You should tell your First Officer this." "That's the responsibility of your Quartermaster, ask him." "This isn't something my Division covers, take this to the Fifth."

He also delegates. On deck, he keeps himself reserved and quieter than normal. He relies on the deck bosses to be vigilant, allows senior members of the crew to throw their weight around to keep the younger or less experienced sailors in line, and generally stays close to the helmsman in the topmost deck. Ace is on the same deck shift as he is and he lets the younger man do most of the work. It isn't strictly out of character for him-he runs "tests" like these often enough that most aren't surprised by his shift in attitude. The only mild oddness is that he didn't warn anyone he was doing so-his usual routine is to give a heads up a week or so beforehand to the deck bosses and Division Commanders about such a thing. Thankfully, everyone takes it in stride-especially Ace who practically shines with how well he takes over the flow of the ship while he's in charge.

He even tells Ace so when the deck shift changes, patting the younger man on the back and praising him on the way indoors. Ace flushes, still unused to compliments, but gives him an odd look when they enter the mess for dinner. It's a close call, but Marco thinks he's in the clear once Ace starts wolfing down his multiple plates like normal.

In the end, though, it's Pops who figures him out. Pops appears in the mess halfway through dinner and things almost immediately go off the rails. The cheery atmosphere boils right over into riotous joy-songs, drinking contests, money changing hands, and food everywhere. Marco, already slightly on edge from the strangeness affecting him, finds his nerves wearing thin after the first hour. But moments like these have been getting rarer, where Pops' health is on the upswing and he's got enough energy at the end of the day to sit around and shoot the shit with the crew.

Pops notices, because of course he does. There's a lull, about two hours in, around him and he leans over on one elbow to nudge Marco's back gently where he sits on the arm of Pops' chair. "You're frowning there, son."

"Sorry-yoi." He says automatically. And he is, he hates when his worries and mood deprive Pops-or anyone-a chance at a good time.

"What's on your mind?" His father asks quietly-which, for a man his size, is still a dull roar but in the din of the cafeteria Marco knows barely anyone heard him.

"That guy from the fight two days ago did something to me." He says, not a single thought going to the preservation of his dignity. There had been a minor scuffle during a supply run, and a man had shoved Marco into a wall while accusing him of lying about his loyalty to the crew. "I can't lie and I'm having trouble holding back impulsive honesty or gestures-yoi."

Pops eyes him, one eyebrow raised, and takes a sip out of his massive tankard. "What's to be done about it?"

Marco shrugs. "Fuck if I know-yoi."

Then he blinks, the abruptness of his own honesty surprising himself. "I...I don't know. I'm going to piss somebody off though, or tell someone something I shouldn't-yoi."

Pops rests a massive hand against his back, warm and steady. Marco leans back into it, feeling strangely comforted and mildly embarrassed (like he's 18 again, freaked out by a nightmare and too prideful to say so). "Come see me in the morning, we'll discuss what we should do next. Until then, try to enjoy yourself son!"

He shoves Marco off the arm of the chair, directly into Ace's passing side, and laughs loud enough to make his ears ring.

#AR writes #nothing but the truth #y'know when people are cursed to speak only the truth/they can't tell lies #yeah I'm going there

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hoffmannwrites · 1 year

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On My List

1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 + 1 Masterlist

Author’s Note: I'm gonna just post part 2 now because the response has been overwhelming and also I need to ride this train until it runs outta steam, yfm?

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Eddie Munson

Description: 5 Times Steve and Eddie kiss as friends, and one time they don't.

Warnings/Tags: Everyone lives, Nobody dies, 5+1, Kissing, Fluff, Idiots to Lovers, Friends to Lovers, some pretty brief mentions for drinking, smoking, being inebriated (the gang is drunk here but nothing too bad, just in a fun way), uhhh they're gay your honor, no beta we die like Barb, vague medical issue, fainting, let me know if I missed anything?

Every Breath You Take

Two

The second time Eddie and Steve kiss it’s not really a kiss at all. Robin and Steve are working a shift at Family Video - well, trying to work at least, because Eddie’s there which means everyone’s just sort of dicking around. Steve is processing some returns while Robin and Eddie argue about some sort of incomprehensible music shit. They’re both such fucking nerds about it that it makes Steve’s head hurt hearing them discuss the rhythm vs the beat and the symbolism of the song's accompanying music videos. Steve doesn’t understand why they have to analyze everything, why they can’t just like shit.

He’s not really paying attention until he registers the panic in Robin’s voice as she suddenly pushes off the counter and says Eddie’s voice just a little too frantically. Eddie has slumped slightly forward over the counter, eyes rolled a little too far back, and not responding to her calls for him. Steve immediately jumps into action, thinking about seeing Max in an eerily similar situation, about the fits Will had when he came back. Steve grabs Eddie and lays him gently in the ground, immediately crouching over him to do CPR, not bothering to check for a pulse or breathing. Just starting compressions, counting the way he learned how while hanging out at the hospital waiting for Max and Eddie to wake up. He couldn’t just sit there, and the hospital offered free training courses in shit like this, so he went. And he’s so glad he did as he starts doing rescue breaths on Eddie, ignoring Robin’s “ohmygodohmygodohmy-“ as she struggles to remember Hopper’s number when she finally stops freaking out enough to grab the phone. It doesn’t matter though, because by the time Steve is halfway through his second set of 30, Eddie’s eyes are fluttering open and he’s breathing heavily, but just fine on his own.

“Oh thank fuc-“ Robin starts as she drops to the ground on the other side of Eddie. “Are you okay? What happened? You just-“ Robin starts rambling, panicking that this meant the worst wasn’t over.

“Robs. Give him a minute. Go grab a water bottle,” Steve softly commands, his instinct to protect and help and heal outweighing his ability to do anything else. She does as he asks, and Steve starts to help Eddie move to a sitting position. “Easy does it, man. You can keep laying on the floor for a little if you need.”

“No, no. I’m okay. Sorry. I just, uh, had a minute. It happens sometimes. Happened a lot more when I was little. Stress, ya know? Was real bad right around the time I started living with Wayne. Had a really bad couple of weeks after Bonham died, too. But since, ya know- everything, it’s been happening again.” Eddie explains, rubbing the middle of his chest where Steve had previously been pressing. Steve just nods as Robin hands him the water bottle, watching, waiting for everyone’s adrenaline to slow.

“Jesus, dude. I think you almost cracked a rib. Way to put those muscles to use,” Eddie jokes, in between sips. Steve cracks a smile, but his eyes are still filled with worry. “Thank you for trying to save my ass, but in the future, I’m just fainting. No CPR required. Just make sure I don’t hit my head on the way down,” Eddie explains.

“Sorry,” now it’s Steve’s turn to ramble. “I just went into panic mode and I didn’t even check for a pulse or-“

“Don’t sweat it.” Eddie cuts him off. “I appreciate you wanting to save my life. Again.” He adds that last part a little quieter, knocking shoulders with Harrington. As Steve helps him to his feet, he adds even quieter “You sure you didn’t just wanna plant one on me again, Big Boy?” And Robin is too busy fussing over Eddie and asking questions about his fainting and yelling at him for not warning anybody that they’re both too busy to notice the blush that creeps up Steve’s neck and the way he flexes his hands like touching Eddie hurt.

A/N: Not so fun fact! John Bonham, drummer for Led Zeppelin died in 1980 after a heavy drinking binge. This would have been absolutely devastating to a young Eddie Munson, as it was for everyone else with ears and a soul at the time.

Also, Steve does the Pride and Prejudice hand flex every time he touches Eddie. Convince me otherwise. I dare you.

#Steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #Steve x eddie #Steve Harrington x Eddie munson #stranger things #fluff #hoffmannwrites #5 + 1 #5 + 1 fic #everyone lives/nobody dies #they're gay your honor #idiots to lovers #friends to lovers #stranger things au #stranger things fanfiction #Steve Harrington saves the day #kinda #on my list

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elytrafemme · 8 months

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what they don't tell you about university is you'll feel so fucking free & you can walk outside and the weather's always more tolerable here than it is back at home & you'll see kids outside and think you're the toughest shit in the world and yet they're somehow tougher & you'll start paying way more attention to the color of rivers because water's so much murkier back where you're from & the words of your halfway dialect jump out more because everyone's a northerner and if nobody's around to say i reckon to you then you've gotta say it yourself & your people are all sober & your people are all not & the songs you listen to solely exist to make you feel like a bad bitch who's not about to kill themself & you watch shitty movies and then read two papers but still make it in time for breakfast & people cold call for some fucking reason to ask you where to catch the bus & there's always a game happening on the field with people you don't give a fuck about & you don't remember what it's actually like to be loved but if you try hard enough to be liked maybe you'll forget the absence & you break up with the only person who made you feel safe and don't give a single shit & your professor is like your dad but at least he uses the right pronouns & the kind boy is maybe a kind boy to everyone but you & you're free like the birds that fly in flocks & shit your carbon footprint's fucked with all the public transport & at least you're going somewhere & at least people talk to you & you're never gonna go back to when you were safe and loved with her hand running through your hair and your dad picking you up while old rock plays on the radio.

but there's a dog somewhere on campus & at least the voice on the metro seems to like you & if you take a walk late at night with the apple you grabbed from the dining hall, you'll feel a little bit like a criminal and all the way incomplete.

#& you won't think about dying 'cause you know someone's out there missing you #but you can't remember her voice & so you get into sending voice memos #& it's never the same. you're in a museum with a boy and the boy doesn't care about you #& someone's dying out in the city streets and it's just you.#you you & you & a university you could sell a lung to & it'll try to make you right this time #but nobody knows good from bad until they do & you're a thief running away with the light.#nightmare.personal #anyway Hiiiiiii guys hiii

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not-a-robot-i-swear-really · 1 year

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Stygian Dawning: Chapter One

Chapter One: The Wolf

⬅previous | table of contents | next➡

Eddie Munson x Valera Savoy (OC)

Word Count: About 3200 words

Chapter Summary: Valera finds her target and a new wolf is born.

Chapter Warnings: Not beta read, mentions of alcohol, violence and blood, terrible Google translated Latin, Eddie gets his shit rocked and not in a funny way

Heavy thunderstorms had rolled into the town of Hawkins on a dark May night. The whole of the town had cooped themselves inside, heeding the forecast’s warning of blackouts, washed out roads, and flash flooding.

Valera had never been one to let a bit of rain stop her, so regardless of the storm, she went rolling into town in a jet black Cadillac. When she got out the car, she hid her crimson eyes behind a pair of dark sunglasses, and handed her chauffeur a hefty $500 tip.

She turned to survey the scenery; a seedy little bar with the words “The Hideout” displayed proudly above its doors in yellowing neon, with the letters “i” and “o” flickering. Under normal circumstances she would never even set foot in a dive bar like this. But she had tracked her target here, and she wouldn’t be deterred by an unpleasant neighborhood. She would simply have to put up with it for the night.

Quietly disgruntled, she glided through the doors with her head down.

As she set foot inside, she whispered a quiet spell to hide her presence: “Ego Gyges anuli vim invoco.” It wouldn’t make her invisible, but it would keep people from bothering her while she did her work.

She slid into a tiny booth on the other side of the bar hidden away from everything else. The bartender, his eyes glazed over with a unnatural cloudiness, came to sit a bottle of single-malt whiskey and shot glass at her table. Nobody noticed the bartender stopping to serve Valera, exactly as she intended. With her drink in her hand and a vantage point secured, she began her impromptu stakeout.

Her eyes swept across the dingy-yellow lit room; at the bar sat a trio of older men drunkenly complaining about the state of the world, in the corner across from her sat a young couple french kissing and whispering in sultry tones to each other, and on the tiny stage across from the bar stood a band consisting of four boys a bit too young to be drinking alcohol.

The kick drum read “CORRODED COFFIN” in thick, striking letters. They were halfway through a cover of a song by Metallica, “For Whom the Bell Tolls” if Valera was correct. The band was unprofessional, their style rife with all the mistakes of a group with only trial-and-error as their teacher. Valera had never particularly enjoyed metal but she could give credit where credit was due. They had talent and passion, every single member pouring their heart and souls into the performance.

The lead singer, a dark-haired lanky man with chunky silver rings adorning his fingers, played and sung with all the fervor of a piano maestro. He looked a bit older than the rest of his band, in the weird age where he was still a child in the eyes of many, but a man in the eyes of the law.

Valera turned her back to the rest of the bar. As interesting as the frontman was, he wasn’t the target. He smelled different; like a mixture of pine and bergamot. The man she was looking for had smelled more musky with a spicy undertone to it, much closer to the smell she associated with wolves.

This bar wasn’t just Valera’s stakeout, it was her lure, her bait. The full moon was over two weeks away. She knew she would have to get creative to find the wolf before he fled once more, so she’d had Tiberius whip up a little spell made to entice wolves like the one she was hunting. It would only be a matter of time before he showed.

Valera had more than enough time on her hands.

Time passed, the tiny hands on Valera’s wristwatch ticking away as she awaited the wolf’s arrival. Outside the rain’s assault eased as the moon rose higher into the sky. The band brought their set to a close, each member steadily peeling away to pack up their equipment. Only the frontman remained, chatting idly with the bartender; presumbly to get the band’s pay for the night.

As he turned to leave, the man’s doe brown gaze glided over the room, and landed right on Valera. A shock ran through her – it couldn’t have been a coincidence that the man had seen her. Her glamour was all but impenetrable to most beings, supernatural or not, but the guitarist didn’t smell any different than the average human. Maybe he had some supernatural ancestry, something was laying dormant in him? Or perhaps he was a seventh son of a seventh son? It was increasingly rare these days for humans to have so many children, but it wasn’t impossible.

Valera had no more time to deliberate his origins, because the very object of her pondering had strolled up to her table. He plopped himself in the seat across from her, roguish grin on his pink lips.

“So, I take it you enjoyed the music,” he said almost purring.

Valera only lifted an eyebrow in response.

“I mean you’re obviously not here for the alcohol, judging by the untouched shot glass you’ve got here.” He gestured to the bottle of whiskey by her hands.

“And clearly you’re not here for the company, because you’re sitting here all alone.”

“That may change in the near future,” Valera finally responded. She kept her senses open, watching the young man and the rest of the bar at the same time. A little conversation wouldn’t hurt her.

“And what, I’m not company?” He gasped, pressing a hand to his chest in faux-offense.

“You are, just not the one I’m looking for at the moment. And to answer your earlier question, I found your performance... Satisfactory.”

“Just satisfactory? Not amazing, not spectacular?”

“Just satisfactory. ‘Heavy Metal’ is not exactly my cup of tea.” Valera gestured to her attire with an ochre-skinned hand. While she was dressed in all blacks, it was more akin to wealthy aristocrats and Gothic Victorian maidens wandering around dark castles. Eccentric and stereotypical of a vampire, but Valera couldn’t help it if her tastes were aligned that way.

“Speaking of which, what’s a well-dressed lady like yourself doing in Hawkins? We’re not exactly the most interesting place on Earth.”

“That can be a blessing of sorts.” Valera mused. She knew more than anyone else that interesting things often equated to dangerous things.

The pale-skinned man snorted, “You must not get around often. This place is kind of a shithole. I’d take interesting over this any day.”

Valera pursed her lips as she circled the lip of her shot glass with her fingertips.

“What about your ‘company?’”

“Hmm?”

“The guy that you’re waiting for? He can’t be from here, ‘cause if he was, everyone here and the next town over would have heard about it. I know I wouldn’t be able to shut up about it.”

“Oh? And why is that?” She leaned her chin on her hand, long black fingernails tapping on her cheek.

The young man stuttered, his cheeks tinting pink under the dingy yellow lighting of the bar. “Oh, well- it’s just- you know...”

“Know what?”

“You’re, um, you’re really gonna make me say it?”

“Say what?” She leaned forward to stop only inches away from his face, her dark eyelashes fluttering behind her sunglasses.

At this, her impromptu companion was rendered speechless, dark eyes wide in incredulity and his entire face colored in red. Just before he could give a response, the door to the bar flew open as the bartender struggled with another man at the entrance.

“C’mon man, you know you can’t be here.” The bartender grunted as tried to push the man back out.

“Please-please, I just need to talk to her! Just for five minutes. Three, i swear!” The man, no younger than 25, tried to edge his way into the room. Valera narrowed her eyes as she watched the exchange.

There was only one other woman in the bar, and her companion was the only person who had seen through her spell so far, which meant-

“Don’t make this any harder than this has to be-“ The bartender fell to the ground with a deep thud, the other man finally having forced his way inside. At this, the room seemed to spring into chaos; the old men rushing to the bartender’s side, the couple slipping out of a side door, and her doe-eyed acquaintance frozen like a deer in headlights.

An energizing jolt ran through Valera’s body as the scent of blood flooded her nostrils. She forced the thought of it down though, focusing on the other scent wafting through the air: a feral musky odor, with a spicy undertone.

The wolf had arrived.

“As enlightening as the conversation has been,” Valera said as she gathered herself, “I’m afraid our little talk has come to an end. I’ve found who I’m looking for.”

She left before the boy could follow her – he was more concerned with the chaos unfolding before him.

Valera – and the wolf – followed the couple fleeing into the dark woods surrounding the bar. It was easy for her to find them, as despite her inexperience as a tracker, she could still smell leagues better than any human could.

“Stop,” she appeared before them in a flash of mist. A scream ripped from the girl’s throat as her boyfriend darted arm in front of her.

“Calm yourselves. I’m only here to help.”

The boyfriend growled, “Who are you? Where did you come from?! If you’re with Hayes back there, I swear to God-!”

“I’m not, I assure you. But you should leave before he finds you. What happens next will not be pretty.”

“What are you talking about?” the girl behind him asked in a trembling voice.

“I said, leave.” Valera’s smooth voice echoed with her power, and the young couple fell into a stupor. They brushed by her without protest, almost trudging away like zombies. Valera, in turn, whistled a short high tune, calling four crows to land before her. She handed each a scrap of fabric, taken from the couple’s clothes as they glanced by her. The crows flew off in different directions – now, if the wolf wanted to find the girl he would have no choice but to confront her.

And just she expected, the werewolf came tumbling into the clearing, wild-eyed and panting with a ferality only known to few.

“David Shaw.” She addressed with him with a dismayed drawl.

“You again,” the werewolf snarled. “I told you I don’t want your help. I don’t want anyone’s help!” Already his form was twisting, eyes glinting yellow, and claws pushing fingernails off his hands.

“Oh, we are far beyond helping you, Shaw.” As she spoke, Valera dropped her coat to the ground, revealing a simple and elegant sabre on her belt. “You’ve hurt people. You ruined your friends and family, left bodies in your destructive wake, and refused to get treatment for your condition all the while.”

“And let you lock me away in some dark dungeon? Poke and prod at me like some kind of lab rat? I don’t want your treatment.”

She brandished her sword at him, ignoring his interruption. “My only mission now is to bring you in, no matter the cost.”

With that, Shaw mind was subsumed by the beast within. He growled as his skin buckled and peeled, dark fur bursting forth to replace it. Feet lengthened and his shins shortened to form powerful hindlegs. He dropped to all-fours and bared his sharpened teeth in a roar as he rushed at Valera.

Valera met outstretched claws with solid parry; she ripped a gash in the werewolf’s thigh. Shaw yelped and snapped his jaws at her shoulders. He was met with only air, Valera’s body dematerializing into dark mist. The mist split and twisted in the air until she was behind Shaw with a heavy kick aimed at his head. Before it could land, the wolf whipped around to grab her ankle and throw her into a wide oak tree. She cried out as pain arced up her spine.

Valera was a frighteningly strong vampire when compared against humans, but against beings like lycanthropes she was greatly outmatched.

“Gladii vim invoco, Zulfiqar!” As she spoke, her sabre split into six copies floating around her body. With a flick of her wrist, each sword rushed at Shaw to impale. One by one each sword impaled his chest and broke into motes of light; all except the last one which Shaw just barely managed to dodge. With an haunting howl he darted forward to swipe his claws at her. Valera, unlike her opponent, darted to the side long before he could even reach her.

Dark misty wings burst from Valera’s back. With a single flap she carried herself into the air and knock Shaw back with a burst of wind.

“Virtutem Titanis Gaiae invoco!” Thick thorny vines burst from the forest floor and wrapped tightly around each limb to pin him to the ground. Shaw howled. pulling against his thorny restraints. But with Valera focusing so intently on him, he wouldn’t be able to get far. She summoned a silver collar dipped in a potion, made to force werewolves into their human forms.

She approached the struggling wolf, unclipping the collar to snap it around his neck. But then the sound of snapping branches rung out through the clearing. Valera whipped around; at the edge of the glade stood the guitarist from the bar, dark wet eyes glinting in the moonlight.

With Valera’s concentration broken, Shaw broke free of the vines to sink his jaws deep into her leg. She barely had time to let out a pained shriek before he slammed her into the ground. The vines whithered away as Shaw stood, slashing his claws down on Valera. With her leg already wounded, he attempt to dodge was foiled, his claws sinking deep into her side.

No blood was spilled, instead black liquid pouring from her wounds. Valera slammed her fist into the side of Shaw’s head just as he leaned forward to sink his jaws into her shoulder. He stumbled off her with a yelp, leaving Valera to scramble out of his grasp.

“You shouldn’t have followed me,” she called to him as she pulled herself to her feet. She summoned a dagger to her hand and flung it at Shaw’s outstretched hand, pinning him to a tree.

“What- what the fuck?!” he sputtered as he took in the scenery before him. Valera, bleeding black blood, and a beast, a horrific mixture between man and wolf.

“Leave.” She stressed, pushing her power into her gaze. There was no time for it to take effect though – Shaw pulled the knife from his hand and tackled Valera. He raised a hand to attack, but she refused to let him get another hit in, Valera’s body bursting into thick mist again. This time, she did not try to circle him; instead she flew backwards to put space between her and her opponent.

But much to Valera’s horror, Shaw didn’t try to pursue. Instead he turned and lept at the man. The werewolf was on top of him in seconds, faster then any human could hope to react. He brought his hands up to shield himself, but it did little to help. Shaw sunk his teeth deep into the man’s arm. He screamed as the werewolf ripped a chunk of flesh from his arms.

Valera dashed forward, using her wait to shove Shaw to the side.

She shouted another incantation, “Venite ad me, corvi mei!” Seemingly from nowhere, a cloud of darkly feathered birds swarmed around Shaw. With her foe distracted, Valera pulled the dark haired man to his feet.

“Let’s go, they won’t keep him busy for long.” She said as she pulled him with her. He didn’t respond, only murmuring curses beneath his breath as he clutched his bleeding arm to his chest.

Just as Valera said, the ravens only served as a distraction. Shaw was on the their tail in seconds, tearing through the underbrush like a bulldozer. Valera summoned her wings again to pull herself and the brunet into the sky. But before she could lift a few inches off the ground, Shaw gripped her leg and pulled her back down. She was quick to break the grapple, pulling up dirt to throw at his eyes.

Shaw howled in pain and let go of Valera immediately. He flailed, desperately trying to hit something. Unfortunately, the closest possible thing was the guitarist. His claws swiped across the young man’s chest, sending him sprawling to the ground with a shout. He was left with four deep gashes, and the werewolf soon added to his wounds by snapping his jaws around the man’s leg.

It was clear now that bringing Shaw in alive was simply impossible, not with him lashing out at both Valera and the other man at the same time.

She drew her sword once more, but this time brandishing a silver dagger in her off-hand. She darted between the werewolf and the dark-haired man. As the werewolf moved to slash at her, Valera brought her sword up to meet his claws. With Shaw’s hand occupied, she dug the knife deep into his abdomen. Shaw stumbled back and yelped, clutching at the newfound gash in his side. Wasting no time, Valera placed the heel of her boot onto his chest, and kicked him back with all of her strength. Shaw flew back onto the ground with a heavy thud.

“Virtutem Titanis Gaiae invoco!” She chanted again. When the thorny vines returned to do her bidding, she wasted no time in restraining every part of Shaw’s body that could move.

The vines tightened and tighented, thick briars driving deep into the werewolf’s body. Before he could do anything else, Valera rushed forward and stabbed the silver dagger right into Shaw’s forehead.

He could only let a gurgling whimper before he went limp.

The vines fell away as she released her control over them, and finally Valera was allowed a moment to breathe. She turned to the guitarist now curled up on the forest floor. She knelt next to him, holding his face between her fingers.

His eyes were wide open, but they were glassy and unfocused. His chest rose and fell in quick, shallow breaths. Blood was still pouring from his wounds, the red coating his hand and indication of his attempts to stop the bleeding. He wouldn’t survive if Valera didn’t act fast.

“Invoco Hehu potentiam.” With that, the bleeding slowed to a halt as did his breathing. He was frozen perfectly in time until Valera saw fit to release him. He wouldn’t be healed, but at the very least, he would survive until she could get him help.

Valera sighed, crimson eyes drifting up to the sky to meet the moon. A silver crescent, just barely present, hung high in the sky. It would be a good two weeks before the full moon, but the symptoms of a werewolf transformation could show up as soon as tomorrow.

She looked back at the man, still frozen in time on the ground.

This mission did not go as planned, and someone else was paying the price for it.

In English: “I call upon the ring of Gyges.”

In English: “I invoke the power of the sword, Zulfiqar!”

In English: “I invoke the power of the Titaness Gaia!”

In English: “Come to me, my ravens!”

In English: "I invoke the power of Hehu."

A/N: Finally got this one finished! Felt like i was working on it forever, it's been a while since i've worked on a fight scene. Anyway, hope you guys enjoy it, don't forget to reblog and allat. Have a nice day ~❤

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kariachi · 6 months

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Some little facts for my ladies regarding Christmas

Marian

Has only had a fake Christmas tree if you count the ones put up at her college, which she does not- it's all real live trees, all from a local farm

Most of her ornaments and decorations are of the 'we've had this since I was knee high to an ant' variety, though as time has gone on she's had to replace shit

There's not really a theme or anything, it's just very cozy with a wide variety or ornaments from throughout the years and passed down from generations and 'traditional' little 'christmas village' and such decorations

Lights, garland, you know the deal, not especially highkey, just easy and classy very naturalistic, she's not throwing around wild colors and shit

She has a fake berry garland and throws that on the tree the years she's feeling lazy/overwhelmed, otherwise she and her dad sit down and do a popcorn garland

Christmas songs mostly play in the barn and when people are over. The pigs seem especially fond of 'Feliz Navidad'.

Her favorite is 'Hark Hear the Bells' [is a lie, she will never lose that nostalgic love for 'Have Yourself a Looney Christmas']

If you're close she'll buy you something, but otherwise you get baked goods, normally cookies or brownies because you can split those up easily to give to multiple people with one batch

She doesn't really send Christmas cards, though she does call a few old friends who live far away, make sure to wish them well

She has friends over for a small get-together and dinner about halfway through December, but the actual day is just her, her dad, and Jadie

Christmas breakfast is Pillsbury Cinnamon Rolls and has been since her dad was a little boy- quick, easy, and since it's the only time they have them it feels special

Dinner's homegrown ham, sprouts from down the road, sweet potatoes, standard potatoes, homemade rolls, more-or-less what it's been for years upon years, though now she splurges and includes a goose so Jadie doesn't feel left out

Monette

In a world where real live trees and fake trees that could masquerade as real live reigned, one woman stood up and said "no, I want pink and shiny"

"If I want green I'll go outside"

There is so much tinsel, and so much metallics, and so much glass, and so much crystal, you may begin to think there's only one or two lights on and it's just the reflections keeping the place lit

She actually doesn't have many knickknacks and such, sticking more to the garland and tinsel and lights and such

She's the only one that gets professionals involved to come in and decorate the outside and more public facing areas of her home for her

She buys all her gifts, unless said gifts are cash, and has not skimped on either in her entire fucking life

Everybody gets cards. Everybody.

So much Christmas music gets played over the course of December, and her favorite song is 'We Need A Little Christmas'

She hosts so many events in the first half December, it'd be easier to list times she doesn't have a party going or people over for dinner or a charity thing going on

She gives her staff the last week and a half of December and the first of January off as a standard, which they've very much earned by the end of the year, especially with all the hosting she does between mid-October and late-December

She has no 'every year' Christmas plans, it's all 'what invitations came in first', if invitations come in at all. If nobody invites her to their place she generally stays home, sends out an open invitation to everybody she knows in the area that they're free to drop in as long as they try to give her at least an hour's warning

When she's at home Christmas breakfast tends to be pastries grabbed a few days ahead of time, while dinner is usually ham and some very simple sides (roast potatoes, frozen veggies), eaten by the fire watching Christmas specials

Allison

Once upon a time made rope, wove it into a net, and decided that would be her Christmas tree from now on and it very much has been

Decoration style is best described as 'festive chaos' if one is being polite and 'the Jo-Ann's Christmas aisles threw up' if one is not

The theme is 'things I liked or people gave me that are also Christmas'

Makes at least a good half the gifts she gives away, by which I mean if you get a store bought gift it is alongside one she made

So many Christmas cards, all done up at home, so many

'Jingle Bell Rock' was written for this woman or at least you would think that for how many different covers of it are on her Christmas playlists

Doesn't have people over, instead visits family over the holidays as much as possible, switches off whether she spends Christmas with her brothers or her parents

The ones that don't get Christmas get Thanksgiving

Is it Christmas if it doesn't start with chocolate chip pancakes and end with peanut butter blossoms? Area lesbian says no

#my ocs #mari monie allie my classic ladies

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roryy-y · 11 months

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This is my first time writing a fanfic and i wrote it at half one in the morning so yeah.

"Hey, Marls! Stop being a party pooper and come dance!" Mary calls over the music. I look up from the bottle of firewhisky. My hands grow clammy and almost drop the bottle as I see her winding her way through the crowd of pupils celebrating Remus' 16th by getting drunk.

Mary’s dress is short and outlines her figure perfectly, I can't help but want to - i should probably stop staring. “Just this one song” she says reaching me. “Sirius has left me and Im’ alone.Come on Marks.”

One look at her and I give in. I sigh, down the rest of the amber liquid swirling in the bottle and toss it onto the sofa. “Bloody hate meatloaf” I grumble. She tugs me up.

She doesn't let go of my hand and a strange warm feeling spreads throughout me at her touch. Fuck. His song ends and twist and shout starts up.She doesn't let go as she dances, if twisting and jumping counts as dancing. Her curls bounce up and down lively at the base of her neck and I fight the temptation to wrap my hands around her. Well I suppose I might join in. A giddy feeling washes over as I let go of self consciousness and jump about wildly. It's as if it's only me and Mary in our little corner of the room as she starts spinning me around. Fast, really fast.Until my vision is past blurry. Faster. But I stumble dragging Mary down with me, ending up in a tangled pile of bodies. We manage to unknot ourselves but each time someone tries to speak we burst into laughter again and again.

However a new song is blaring in our ears now, we’ve calmed down now. “Seriously though, are you okay?”

My heart goes thump thump thump. Her face moves closer, staring directly into my eyes. Thump, thump louder than whatever song is on now. I can hear it and surely she can too. But this is normal right? This happens in other friendships, right? Right? But something else takes control. My lips meet hers. And she doesn't push me away. No she’s kissing back and pushes me up against the wall, her hands warm on my thighs. My hands find her waist as we- we break apart.

Shit. Nothing but silence now. Shit. Shit. Shit.

“I'm so so sorry.I-I’m not- I didn't mean to.”

“It's fine” she cuts me off with her stone cold voice, disappearing into the crowd. Thank god nobody saw us.

Minutes later I see Mary straddling Sirius, snogging him as if their lives depend on it. They probably do. I look around and spot Remus. He’s pissed but so am i. I start wobbling over to him. Halfway there my stomach gives a strange gurgle, I barely get to the toilet on time.

#70s #marauders era #dead gay wizards #marlene mckinnon #mary macdonald #marylene #ao3 fanfiction #lesbian

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acespec-ed · 2 years

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I’m just gonna, ramble right now about how I recently came to the conclusion that I’m orchidromantic. I mean, I knew I was orchidromantic before. But in more of an alloro-leaning way, if that makes sense. But now I’m thinking it’s not in an alloro-leaning way at all. I don’t feel like it’s in an aro-leaning way either though. I’m just, straight-up orchidromantic.

So, I currently have a “celebrity” crush (I use celebrity loosely- he’s more of a nobody who’s in a band halfway across the world but whatever, point is I don’t know the guy and will likely never meet him). After a year and a half dealing with crushes on people I know. And you know what?

This crush has been absolutely, 100% heavenly in comparison. Crushes on people I don’t know are “normal” for me. And these past couple years have taught me that these kinds of crushes are far, far preferable to real life crushes omg. Like, even taking my boyfriend out of the equation. Celebrity crushes >>>>> IRL crushes. Maybe it’s because it’s been awhile since celebrity crushes, but it’s been fun. It’s been a fun time. Sitting around, listening to his voice, swooning over pics, watching videos. All that fun shit that causes the dopamine rush that comes with crushes. It makes me happy. It puts me in a good mood. It turns me into the stereotypical fangirl. All the positives that come with having a crush (though maybe not necessarily the stereotypical fangirl part.) Meanwhile, IRL crushes give me all those positives, but come with negatives. Nervousness. Uncertainty on if I’ll see them or not. Fears of embarrassing myself. Anxiety surrounding them overall. Not a fun time and I do not understand why anyone prefers IRL over fantasy.

Even though crushes tend to turn me into that stereotypical fangirl with heart-eyes, I’m not always 100% sure if romantic attraction or just a strong combo of aesthetic/sensual attraction. But the fact I’m a sucker for romance, along with how hard I relate to most of the behaviors alloros have when they’re crushing on someone, makes me lean towards alloro in general. I mean, that’s how I look and act when I have a crush. Like a typical alloro. I just don’t always have romantic thoughts on the brain. I just want to stare at them and hug them and learn more about them. Study them from afar. I wasn’t sure if this particular crush was a romantic attraction or something else. Until yesterday, when I watched a music video he was in. There was a part where, he and this girl were walking, and he had his arm around her in an obviously romantic way, given the lyrics of the song. And you wanna know my thought process?

First thought: “Aww, he looks so cute and happy!”

Second thought: “I wonder if the girl is his actual girlfriend, or just someone they got to play the part. And how does she feel about him putting his arm around her like that? Cuz I would feel awkward if I was in her position, unless I found the guy attractive.”

Third thought: “I wouldn’t mind his arm around me. I would like that actually.... *insert stream of romantic fantasies of me with the guy that made me happy to think about* Okay, I must be romantically attracted to the guy.”

Fourth thought: “Shouldn’t my first thought have been about wanting to do romantic things with him? And shouldn’t I feel jealous of the girl having his arm around her, instead of wondering how the girl acting feels about him having his arm around her?”

Fifth thought: “Am I more aro than I think???? But I do enjoy thoughts of his arm being around me and would probably enjoy that happening IRL.”

But the thing is, as enjoyable as those thoughts are, and the joy I would feel of him having his arm around me, would not motivate me to act on those feelings. At all. Would I like having his arm around me in a romantic way? Yes! Would I go through all the stress and downsides that come with IRL crushes in order to get to that point? No! I am just as happy admiring from a distance. In fact, I’m probably happier doing just that! And I don’t understand, I just don’t understand!!! Why that is some bad and tragic thing?!?!?!? I fuckin’ LOVE admiring from afar like this I can have all the fantasies I want and get the same happy chemicals I’d get from actually doing the stuff. But without having to, you know, make any effort to get to the point where I can actually do the stuff IRL. I feel the same way about sex. Like, I’ll admit it does feel better, but why go through the effort of seeking out sex when masturbation also gets the job done?

I legit just read a comment today from an allo saying something along the lines of unrequited love being one of the most painful feelings ever and I just... it is? Cuz back when I was getting IRL crushes that I wanted to pursue... they all went nowhere and I was never upset about it? I was upset over the fact that, I was 19, 20, 21 with no experience. I wasn’t jealous of any girlfriends the person had, or upset over the fact that person wasn’t showing interest. What bothered me was, the fact I once again failed to get a boyfriend.

And I will never, for as long as I live, forget the confusion I felt when my best friend at the time, said the following: “Having a boyfriend is so much better than staring at a picture on the wall!”

Is staring at a picture on the wall, not satisfying enough for some people??? Cuz I fuckin’ LOVED printing pics of celebrity crushes and pinning them on my corkboard back in the days before smart phones! Shit, before I got a laptop, I used to print out pics and keep them in a binder so that way I wouldn’t have to leave my room to go to the computer if I ever felt like swooning over a celebrity crush! But apparently, that’s not satisfying enough for some people? They want things to go further??

And it’s funny, writing all this out. About how allromantics confuse the shit out of me sometimes. But my feelings/behavior towards crushes probably confuse the shit out of aros. I’m totally split in the middle of the two. Just, orchidromantic.

Anyways, this turned out much longer than I intended. I just had to dump my thoughts somewhere. 😅 Thanks for reading if you made it this far!

#just me rambling

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