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#my each day baltering
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NEW CHAPTER! KISSING???
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Between getting Covid and this chapter ending up twice as long as originally intended (I had very important things I needed to make sure were communicated, okay?), this took a hot minute to get out. But, I hope it was worth the wait, because after 128197 words... it happens. 👀 Here be a snippet right before it all goes down:
“You know that I’ve got a good memory, ma fen, you know that. I don’t forget things easily,” She was back to nicknames, it would seem. “Well, do you know what Garrett Hawke told me when he first arrived?”
Had she scooted closer? No, that was just the way the shadows cast across them from over the wall. Surely, there was no other explanation.
“Tell me.”
“He told me,” A snort. A snort! Mellan covered her nose with one hand and squeezed Solas’ with the other, eyes closed and face cast to the ground. “He told me, that my symptoms - oh, you won’t believe a word of this - that they mean, that I’m smitten with you!”
Solas’ eyes felt wobbly.
Ah, well--that was a new sensation. He wasn’t altogether sure he’d felt that before; not in a context like this, at any rate.
Give him the credit of maintaining his composure, the world within him shook with greater violence than a Titan fighting against the bonds of--
Is this how adolescents felt? Real, true, young people? Was it always so stifling hot?
“Oh, and Solas? Solas, the best part. You’ll find this funny,” Did she even realize he wasn’t laughing? Of course not, ragged hand covered giggling mouth and she hadn’t looked up to him once since she’d started. Was he to stop her? Let her continue? Did this manner of ‘announcement’ count towards that finish line he had promised he would meet her at one day? Was this the correct path?
Ironically, she was a balter from his own path, but an enrapturing one that left him dumbstruck with each new revelation of hers. Like an impatient reader he wanted to skip ahead just a few of her pages. Have her spoil the story and tell him what lay ahead.
“He said that,”
‘What comes next?’
“That you were a ‘lucky guy;’ that we were more than dear friends.” Another giggle and their shared fate was sealed. “As if, oh, my goodness, as if you were smitten with me as well!”
Mellan shook her head for a final time, before, at last, she raised it up to meet Solas’ eyes.
“But, that would be silly, wouldn’t it?”
She hadn’t actually thought much on what she expected to see when she opened her eyes. Perhaps a smile, a shared laugh, but not a stare. Not a look from her friend that held something deep and lurking just beneath the surface of murky waters.
Not something that made her wonder if the petname she’d given him of ‘fen’ was a bit too apt, and that if she moved too quickly, some emotion would snap; and oh, dear, Mellan was nowhere near ready for whatever that emotion might be.
“W-Wouldn’t it?” Had she actually spoke aloud, or simply thought the words? Mellan supposed she might have mouthed them, let them fan across her teeth. It took a real gulp of purest bravery for her to truly speak heartily again. “S-So, um, academically. Academically… my symptoms.”
‘Spirits, even my nose feels like it's on fire; I probably look like a tomato to him. Why couldn’t I just keep my mouth shut? Why couldn’t I just learn the blasted dance and be done with it all?!’
“Thought? Your thoughts?”
Peculiar, even by their standards, Solas held a single chuckle in his chest. Barely hiding his lip, he rested fingers upon it to shield the smallest smile as he turned to think.
“My thoughts,” he began, a twinge of well-measured mirth to his tone. “Are that Ser Hawke is far more attentive than I gave him credit for.” And that he could now confirm that he had been a right prick to the man, but that was neither here nor there at this point. 
Out of the corner of his eye he could see Mellan take a gulp for air, most likely absorbing the information he had technically-not-confirmed - and, therefore, was still following his own personal set of rules - but, also not at all denied. The blessing was that he knew she was smart, and that she knew precisely what he was getting at, all with his plausible deniability still perfectly intact.
He still was just as much of a prick, wasn’t he?
“A--hm,” She nodded, readjusting herself yet again, back straightening. Solas could see how her shoulders rolled back beneath her braids like branches beneath leafy willows, how her chest rose and fell across the skin exposed above her ill-fitting tunic. “I see. So, then, I suppose you are suggesting that Garrett’s observation was, ah, correct?”
“No, I am declaring it.” To him it was not a subject for debate.
Read the rest here on Ao3!
I hope you guys are excited and enjoy because holy moly I’ve been fucking amped for this jerhbuerbgueibguearburbygber I really hope it was worth the wait and this chapter is enjoyable D’x Love y’all!!
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cherrynojutsu · 3 years
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Title: Years Past
Summary: Sakura haunts their small home in grief, feeling already a ghost even while surrounded with beautiful raven-haired children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren. As she sees each and every one of them over the months that follow, a select few stare back with her own eyes. Most of them are so like her husband's, though, luciform soot flecked with silver, and she feels so sorry when she looks too long and starts to cry. Romance, Character Death, Sad With a Happy Ending, Sakura POV.
Disclaimer: I did not write Naruto. This is a fan-made piece solely created for entertainment purposes.
Rating: T
A/N: A little late to this prompt, but better late than never, I suppose. This has been sitting in my drafts since June, but reading it made me emotional and I got distracted by writing things for Like Gold. I apologize for the tardiness!
Sasusaku Month 2021, Day 7 Prompt: Years Past @ssskmonth
AO3 Link - FF.net Link
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Sakura passes in her sleep, marcid and weary of a broken heart and missing mismatched eyes, at the age of eighty-two.
It is longer than most Shinobi make it by far, but she doesn't feel very grateful for it, in the last five excruciating months of her life.
Her husband hadn't made it to eighty-two; Sasuke-kun passed in December. It had been peaceful, all three of their children, most of their grandchildren, and even some great grandchildren, the ones not on missions outside of the village, at his bedside.
Sakura had been there, too, old and frail and holding his hand. She'd kissed him goodbye tearily, sensing it was almost time after decades of watching it happen to others inside secluded hospital walls. It had been in front of nearly all of their descendants, family the only thing helping to hold her together in his final moments.
He hadn't complained. He'd kissed her back, for everyone to see, and Sarada and the twins had started crying, then, squeezing their hands around those of their parents, because they knew it really was time.
He had thanked her, said her name one last time, all equanimity even then. Then, so softly, "I love you. I'll see you next time," before he went, bones settling wearily at long last.
There had been melancholy in his expression even in death, wrinkled skin turning glaucous and beginning to sag against old, hardened muscle.
Sasuke-kun was buried next to Itachi’s memorial. There is a plot he saved for her on his other side, his right arm, the hand she held so many times in life.
Sakura haunts their small home in grief, feeling already a ghost even while surrounded with beautiful raven-haired children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren. As she sees each and every one of them over the months that follow, a select few stare back with her own eyes. Most of them are so like her husband's, though, luciform soot flecked with silver, and she feels so sorry when she looks too long and starts to cry. Little Satoko, their newest great-grandchild all of eleven months old who she dotes on endlessly, reaches at her wrinkled cheeks to try to wipe them dry, babbling out a garbled version of "Oobasan, no cwy." He is talking earlier than most babies, stormy eyes eerily full of awareness and an endless lineage, just like Sarada at that age. Sakura laughs as she sobs, cradling him close to her heart, and looking out her window at their daughter's visage on the mountain. It is also Satoko's grandmother's image; it is hard to believe their sweet little baby is now old enough to be a grandmother. She remembers the first time Sarada had smiled at Sasuke-kun, the first time he held her at only an hour old, and he broke down sobbing.
She makes the trek to Sasuke-kun's grave every day for 138 days, each step an arduous agony, before stooping down to lay a fresh daffodil atop the soil where her husband's bones rest. She has also planted white lilies around his headstone, the same as those that surround Itachi's and the Uchiha Memorial Stone. Her children help her keep them watered as needed through a short spring drought; she is too old to carry a watering can now without spilling.
She misses him. It hurts worse than Sasori's poison or Madara stabbing her or giving birth or a giant shuriken nearly cleaving her in two.
There is joy to be found in the desolation, too, in her last few months of life. Their progenies throw her a birthday party like none other, and she eats her fill of cake while watching little hands eat some, too. Little Satoko dances, or moreso balters, with Sarada in time to a dramatic song he finds by pressing buttons on the radio; it is not a very appropriate tune for a dance with a toddler, all clumsy crescendo and orchestra, but amusing all the same. Sasuke-kun would have smiled, if he were there.
The white lilies bloom before her eyes one last time, resplendent and perfect. She gets to hear about Haruki making Chunin on the first try, every bit the pride of the Uchiha, reborn anew with Sharingan blazing. She even gets to see Akiko make Jonin in person, ambitious and ingenious with Sharingan and diamond seal on her forehead setting her apart from her adversaries in the arena.
But finally, at long last, it is her culminating day. 138 days doesn't seem like a long time to be without him, compared to the larger number of days he was absent in their youth, but she finds it is worse, following their life together.
She tells them all she loves them and falls asleep for the last time, watches their confluence of family say goodbye from above. Sarada and the twins cry the hardest, clinging to her body as her heart finally pumps for the last time. Satoko is too young to understand, but he pats at her, too, in a sea of dark-haired descendants that she knows will continue to bring honor back to a clan revived at the brink of death. She takes in each and every one of their beautiful faces one last time, faces so similar to Sasuke-kun's; not a single one of them has her nose.
It is a legacy of love they have created, exactly the dream they started willing into color the day they discovered they had made Sarada together.
Then, she is on a dock that has slightly singed edges, looking over a small, familiar pond.
It is a spring evening, the sun just falling beneath the horizon and cherry blossoms abloom, and she thinks that is strange, because it is June and Hanami has already passed them by. Satoko had been so cute in his new outfit; she had made it herself, not much else to do in their empty house filled with aching memories. The tiny uchiwa on the back of his collar was sewn with the utmost care, the kind that came from decades of practice.
Crickets chirp, cicadas buzz, and there are a few fireflies leaking out of the greenery, soft light reflectant in the stillness of the water. It is serene. She had sat on this dock many times with her husband, when he was alive, on his right side so she could hold his hand. He told her she was beautiful during Hanami here, every year. She shifts to begin the process of sitting down, planning on leaving the space he'd taken up in life empty for him, in case his ghost is around. She has felt it, sometimes, tugging at her own spirit; she leaves his side of the bed empty every night, trying to will him back to her.
As Sakura shifts, she looks down, and she is startled to see pink hair instead of white, and no wrinkles. She crouches to analyze herself more closely in water still as glass, and there are no creaking old bones. She is young again, somehow.
She is overjoyed; she will be able to water the white lilies herself again. She can even dance with little Satoko now.
Light footsteps sound behind her, and just as she stands and turns, she is being swept into an unfamiliar yet comforting pair of arms. A woman with long inky hair, black as night, is hugging her tight.
"Thank you for loving my son," she breathes immediately, and Sakura starts crying, because she somehow knew who it was before she even said anything, without even seeing her face. When her eyes focus blearily through tears over Mikoto Uchiha's shoulder, Sasuke-kun's brother is walking up not far behind her.
Itachi Uchiha is smiling at her like she's done something wonderful, like he has been waiting for years to meet her. He is younger, healthier here, flecks of silver dancing in eyes just like her husband's, just like their childrens'. There's an impossible ache in her chest.
He waits patiently for his mother to pull back. When she finally does, Sakura looks into her eyes, and Mikoto is smiling at her so big, like she hung the moon in the sky, beginning to peek out from behind clouds above them.
"I have waited so long to meet you," she says, eyes shining, and her eyes are like Sasuke-kun's, too. "You are so beautiful."
Then Itachi is embracing her, and Sakura cries harder, because his arms feel almost like Sasuke-kun's arm had felt, slipping around her for sixty-one years of marriage, the same height and strong.
"I have waited, too. It's an honor. Thank you, for everything," Itachi says as she sobs.
"They are so beautiful, too, Sakura," Mikoto adds softly, hand at her shoulder, and she knows she means their children, Mikoto's grandchildren that she hasn't gotten to hold yet, Sarada and the twins and their children and all the others. Little Satoko had made twenty-seven blood relatives; including spouses who married into the clan, the number was thirty-eight, and there were two more babies on the way, yet.
Itachi lets her go, smile tender when he pulls away. He directs his gaze momentarily to the path leading up the hill, as if he's looking for someone.
She follows his gaze; Fugaku Uchiha is coming over the top, all stoicism even as a spirit. He stops momentarily and gives her a nod of recognition, not breaking eye contact for a long time.
Then, he glances back over his shoulder, tilts his head as if telling someone to follow him down the hill, and Sakura is running, though she hasn't been able to for years.
Sasuke-kun is all of twenty again, young and strong, too handsome for his own good and every bit the sweet but stoic man she fell in love and grew old with. He's smiling at her, just for her, and she's in his arms - he has both, here - in the blink of mismatched, teary eyes.
His arms feel like home, two spirits together in permanence at long last. It is the same feeling as the little piece of heaven they touched together whenever they made love, souls intertwining, but this time for good. She has missed him. Oh, she has missed him.
"...I told you I'd see you next time," he murmurs against her hair.
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cyraclove · 3 years
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For the prompt requests, zelink ww balter? 🥺👉🏼👈🏼
balter--to dance gracelessly, but with enjoyment
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“It seems frivolous to have a party while most of the country is still undergoing reparations,” Zelda muttered as she and Link walked down the main hall towards the grand ballroom. Being the latest room in Hyrule Castle to be refurbished, it required the queen’s approval. Everything nowadays seemed to require her approval.
It was exhausting. 
“I don’t disagree, but,” Link replied with a slight shrug, “I do think that Impa has a point. If nothing else, it might lift spirits.” 
The ball was meant to bring to a close the summit that would be held at the castle in just three days time. Zelda had been organizing this gathering of leaders from each region in Hyrule for over a year, having traveled to deliver each proposal personally. 
She had been hesitant when the ball was initially suggested, only agreeing under the condition that it would be open invitation for the entire kingdom. The whole purpose of the summit was to unite her people after a century of division; this could not be done without complete transparency. 
“You know that I am certainly in favor of building rapport with my people, but let me go to them. I need to see their homes, their children. What life is like for them. I know that I wouldn’t want to come here and see how much money and labor has been poured into this place if I couldn’t even put food on my table.” 
When Link did not respond, Zelda’s eyes flickered up to find him softly smiling at her. 
“What?” 
“Nothing. You’re just good at this.” 
Zelda felt a tiny flutter in her stomach and quickly glanced away, biting her lip in a failed attempt to veil her involuntary grin. 
“Well,” she said, “empathy alone does not a sovereign make.” 
Link chuckled, cocking a brow at her. “You’re allowed to take compliments, you know.” 
Her cheeks burned hot. She damned herself for neglecting to put on rouge that morning, knowing there was nothing to conceal her blush. 
“You’re right. Thank you,” she conceded, “you’re very kind.” 
“Just honest.”
Arriving at the intimidatingly large ballroom doors, Zelda took in a long breath through her nose and closed her eyes. 
Think tall. Smile. Breathe. 
The moment that Link opened the door for her, she was immediately inundated. Disappointed, but not surprised. 
“You majesty, we’d love your opinion on a color for the drapes--”
“--and if you look closely at the chandelier, you’ll see that we sourced the crystal from the Hebra region--”
“Don’t forget that you’re due at the clothier for your gown fitting this afternoon, and--”
“As soon as you’re ready, your majesty, we can practice the waltz.”
Waltz?
Zelda’s head snapped toward her newest royal advisor, a young woman named Calyn, from Akkala. She was fond of Calyn for several reasons, but mostly because she was good company. Her sense of humor mirrored Zelda’s in more ways than one, and she was never without a story to tell. Aside from Link, Calyn was one of the only people whose nearly constant presence did not irritate her.
“I’m sorry. Did you say waltz?” 
Calyn nodded, emitting a nervous laugh. The woman’s eyes darted towards a cellist and violinist seated next to her, instruments at the ready. How had Zelda failed to notice them when they walked in? 
“Yes, your majesty. Practice. For the ball? I thought I told you.” 
“That was...today?” 
“Yes, ma’am.” 
Zelda sighed. Of course it was.
She nodded, smiling at a very anxious looking Calyn in order to wordlessly assure her that she was not at any fault. 
“Ah, that’s right. I’d almost forgotten. Thank you for arranging everything, Calyn.” 
The other woman’s expression immediately softened, her shoulders dropping in relief. She clasped her hands together. 
“It was my pleasure, your majesty.”
Calyn quickly cleared the room of everyone else, earning protests from architects and chefs alike. Zelda chuckled inwardly as she watched her shoo them all out. 
Calyn returned with a rather triumphant look on her face, arms akimbo. “Right, then. Now, if you’d both stand in the center, there.” 
Zelda and Link looked at one another simultaneously. She swallowed hard, unable to decipher if the look in Link’s eyes was one of bewilderment or excitement. As they stood there in silence, Calyn again began to pale. The musicians eyed them curiously. 
“The two of us?” She asked, as if there were a million other men in the room. 
“Her majesty was to select a partner for the waltz,” Calyn gently reminded her. 
Shit. That’s right. 
Zelda had had Link in mind from the very moment that Calyn had informed her of this tradition, but had felt a sudden and overwhelming urge to vomit every time she thought that she’d finally mustered up enough nerve to ask. She smiled weakly, trying desperately to ignore the sound of her pulse in her ears. 
Poor Calyn shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other, her eyes darting frantically between the queen and her knight. 
“Has Sir Link accepted, your majesty?”
“He has,” Link answered for her, much to Zelda’s surprise. He beamed at her as he extended his hand for her to take, the handsome cut of his jawline catching the light as he bowed his head in ceremony. 
Slipping a gloved hand in his, Zelda let Link guide her to the center of the floor, praying that he could not detect the slight tremble in her fingers. He gingerly placed his hand on her waist, the warmth emanating from his touch sending a thrill through her chest. Their faces a mere hairsbreadth apart, Zelda felt the irrational urge to find out what might happen if she were to press her lips to his right then. 
Calyn’s voice shattered the thought, making Zelda startle in Link’s arms. 
“Splendid! Music, please.” 
The musicians began playing a lively waltz, the lovely timbre of their strings filling the room with the bright melody. Zelda met Link’s gaze, panic spiking in her gut. 
“I don’t know how to dance,” she whispered. 
The corner of his mouth quirked up. “Neither do I,” he replied. He placed his broad hand on her back, pulling their bodies flush as he took her hand in his. She reeled as the sudden closeness, stifling a little gasp. 
“Ready?” 
“No.” 
Link laughed as he started to lead her around the dance floor, taking wide, sweeping steps that made it difficult for her to keep up. Zelda felt a giggle burble up from somewhere deep inside of her. They stumbled together, moving in a way that could possibly be likened to dancing if one were to squint. 
After several moments, Zelda found herself laughing to the point of pain as she let Link carry her across the room with him, twirling her clumsily and far too often. She was so entranced that she did not hear Calyn’s attempt at instruction, instead putting her trust in this man who had absolutely no idea what he was doing. 
When they finally came to a halt, Zelda tripped over her own skirt and fell into Link’s arms. He laughed as he caught her, a litany of apologies leaving him amidst the laughter. Her head still spinning, she craned her neck to kiss him on the cheek. She stilled after she realized what she’d just done, only to receive a kiss in return.  
It was then that she realized that if this wasn’t truly how the waltz was done, she had no real interest in learning how. 
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This was so much fun. Thank you so much!!
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iscream4clones · 4 years
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Hiya Allison jaan 🥰🥰 May I please request balter with Fives 🥺 xox
Fatima my love I hope this satisfies your needs, it was really fun to write! 💖
(Again I apologize for the format, I still don’t have wifi some I’m posting from my phone)
Also communicators in star wars are like smart phones, right? We will just go with it
Balter - to dance gracelessly, but with enjoyment.
It had been two days since the storm had started, and it continued to bring its rage and terror to the people of Coruscant. All of your original plans with Fives had been canceled, but you simply adjusted to spend your days off in your apartment.
The kitchen counter was decorated with a variety of junk food and sugary drinks, and boxes of delivery food sat empty on your dining table. You both sat on either end of your sofa, a bowl of popcorn placed on the middle cushion, both of your hands making multiple trips to grab a handful of buttery goodness. You had left the lights off, the holovid casting flashing lights across your apartment living room, mirroring the lightning show above the city. Fives had suggested a horror film, and you couldn’t pass up the perfect spooky atmosphere. Stomachs full and comfortable in your own fuzzy blankets, the movie had both of you engrossed in its thrilling plot. Compared to most horror vids, you both had agreed this one was quite enthralling. Your entertainment was cut short, however, when a bolt of lightning disrupted the power, and the room went black.
Beside you, Fives sighed. “First we can’t go to the park, now we can’t even watch a holovid. At this point, should we just go back to work?”
You shook your head, and remembered he couldn’t see you. You hopped up and threw your blanket in his direction, startling him.
“Don’t give up yet, let me light some candles.”
Out of memory and brief help from flashes outside, you made your way to the candle drawer, igniting the first one before collecting more. You placed them around your apartment as Fives stretched out on the couch, a leg and arm hanging off the side. Satisfied with the warm glow now cast in your space, you marched back over to seat yourself where you once were, lifting Fives legs out of the way before placing them on your lap. You crossed your arms in thought, and Fives wiggled his toes.
“So, y/n, we can see our own bored faces, but what now?”
“I’m thinking!”
You had already played board games and card games. You couldn’t go outside. There was no telling when the power would be restored, so what…..
“I got it!”
You pushed Fives’ legs off of your lap and jumped up, and after punching a few things into your communicator, music started to play.
“Get up lazy, come dance with me!”
Fives was quick to join you, pushing the caf table and the couch farther away for more space. He reached his hand out to you politely with a sly smile.
“M’lady?”
You accept his invitation without hesitation, and he immediately pulls you into his chest before twirling each of you around. He twists you outwards then drags you back in, only to dangle your hands above your figures, going for a closer spin. You take a few steps back and find your own silly moves, never taking your eyes off of the man before you. Fives matches your quirkiness with a pace just as awkward and flimsy. You both must look like fools, flailing around your living room with no real purpose but to experience the gravity of one another. This wasn’t 79’s, where you had to worry about being mocked by the rest of the 501st, or each of you was trying to show off to someone in one way or another. All you needed tonight was the company of your best friend in intoxicating candlelight.
The raindrops on your windows kept beat to the music, dancing down the glass. The booming of shared laughter was enough to overpower the rumbles of thunder outside. Embracing one another’s hands, you both began to spin in a circle like gossip drunk school girls in the university square. The world spun around you and you passed through so many rounds of gaiety you both wondered if happiness could make you sick. In a dizzied stupor your hands lost their grip, and you both went spiraling in opposite directions, still giggling like madmen. There must have been laughing gas in the smoke from your candles, as it took a long moment to collect yourselves even after making contact with the floor. When you finally calmed down, Fives sat up and you crawled over to take a seat at his side on the floor, facing the weather outside. You rested your head on his shoulder, and even with the music playing in the background, you could still hear his fast heartbeat. He found your hand and held it in his lap, sighing, content.
“I love you, y/n.”
“Love you too, Fives.”
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caxsthetic · 4 years
Text
Balter
Tendou Satori x F!Reader
(v.) to dance artlessly, without particular grace or skill but usually with enjoyment.
─── ・ 。゚☆: *. 500 MASTERLIST .* :☆゚. ───
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The room was dark, the only light that shone through the entire room was the dim light from the laptop screen. You type away at a speed of lightning, but you tried to keep the sound to be as minimal as ever.
There laying in the bed with his mouth hanging open, was your husband. The two of you were workaholics, but you were way too mad since you never take a break.
Meanwhile, he was good with his time management. And sometimes, you were envious about it with how well he could manage his daily life.
You were not always like this though, you were not someone who would type away in the middle of the night, trying to finish all of the report even before the due date.
But it was all changed when your boss promoted you to be the director of administrations. Something stirred in your mind since that day. You felt like you needed to do everything right, all of your work needed to be done perfectly.
It was always like this now, going round and round in circles. Every week, you would always go to the office early and go home late, a habit that started to develop around three months ago.
Your husband notice this, notice how you always conceal the bag under your eyes. So he pulled you to the bed early today, forcing you to cuddle and sleep with him.
But when he already drifted off to sleep, you just can’t do the same.
So you untangled yourself slowly, looking at your red headed husband who still stuck in the dreamland. You were feeling bad from it, but you know you couldn’t possibly sleep if you still had work to do.
And here you were right now, typing away all of the work. You simultaneously glanced towards the bed, making sure that your husband was still asleep.
Tendou never liked how you always did everything non stop. You rarely eat lunch if he didn’t call you at the office, he rarely saw your figure even at home, he rarely got any affection from you,
And he started to get tired of it.
It was cold tonight since snow already started to fall down from the sky. Even when the heater was on and he used a pile of blankets, he just felt like something was not right.
The cold may be the one who woke him up from his slumber. But the fact that he didn’t feel the warmth from your body anymore, was the reason why he decided to stay awake.
He sat on the bed, rubbing his eyes groggily before yawning. His hair was down, cascading perfectly as it fell to his face. You were not there beside him, and he started to get upset by this constant event.
His eyes bore to your figure, letting out a long sigh when he realised what you are doing. The moonlight that was peeking through the curtains notified him that it was still late.
Your typing was fast, and the screen illuminate your face as your orbs solely focus on the screen in front of you,
“Working again?” You jolted when you heard your husband’s voice. Your fingers stopped typing immediately, “At this time? Really?”
Tendou Satori wasn’t someone who could be angry so easily, but right now he was too frustrated to even notice the malice voice that came out from his lips.
He was always gentle towards you, caring for you and just pout when you didn’t hear his warning. So when you heard how different his voice was, you couldn’t help but shudder.
You let out a long sigh, straightening your leg that was folded on the chair before. His gaze piercing right through you, waiting for any kind of excuse that you blurt out usually.
“Y-Yeah,” He raised one of his eyebrows and decided to approach you, “I am sorry, Satori. I-” You stopped when you could feel his hand crept on your shoulders.
The ministration made you moan a little. You could feel how your body relaxed as he started to massage you. No matter how stubborn you could be, he couldn’t get angry at you, at least not for more than a minute.
After all, you were the only woman who could see through all of his imperfection.
“Let’s sleep after this, okay?” He kissed your head, making a smile bloom on your face from his affection, “You can continue this tomorrow morning, you know that, right?”
He expected you to smile and let him lead you back to sleep. So when he saw you slumped your shoulder away from his grasp, he knew that his words were all in vain.
“Just… Just a little more minute, okay?” You stood up and gave him a peck on the cheek, “Go back to sleep, Satori. I will catch you up after this.”
The red haired man could only sigh at how hard you were to crack. He grumbled like a child when you sat again on your chair, focusing all of your thought on your work.
He stood there for a while, waiting for you to turn your head and just shut down the laptop. But after minutes, you are still muttering about work. That’s when he knew he should just go to bed.
Frustrated, he grumbled once again and left the bedroom, going downstairs to the kitchen to grab some water. It was dark as he walked on the first floor. The only light that illuminated the whole floor was the one from the kitchen.
And in the middle of the night like this, his pinky toe was longing to kiss the table leg. He almost yelped, but he decided to bite his lips immediately so he didn’t have to make you worried.
“For shonen jump shake, who the hell decided it was good to put the table near the staircase!” He mumbled while he tried to soothe his pinky toes by massaging it a little, “Oh, it was me who decided that.”
His dark red eyes fall to an item that was put on the table. He widened his eyes, orbs twinkling with excitement as an idea popped into his mind.
This idea? He was sure you will love it. At least that’s what he hoped for.
You were currently finishing one of the reports for the office, ready to continue another piece of work. The truth, your eyes were getting tired already, but your mind just wouldn’t rest before finishing the last report.
That’s when you realised that something was off. No, it’s not a bad kind of feeling that you felt right now. But something caught your hearing that made you stop your works completely.
♪ I been working so hard~ I'm punching my card~ ♫
You choke on air, jaw dropped as a wide grin started to appear on your face, surprised to hear the song in the middle of the night like this.
♪ Eight hours for what~ Oh, tell me what I got~ ♫
Your eyes darted to the laptop screen once again, trying to focus on your work. You started to type, but it was much slower than before.
♪ Tonight I gotta cut loose, footloose~ Kick off the Sunday shoes~ ♫
That’s it, you were done for real. You immediately save your work progress and shut down your laptop. Your feet stride as you were so eager to just see the culprit behind the music.
You were just touching down towards the first floor when your eyes promptly fell to your husband. With a blue shirt and black boxer, he was there, moving his body to synchronize the beat.
It was awful, an awful dance that everyone would laugh at. You leaned your body to the wall, eyes still focus on the man that caught your heart.
A wide grin plastered on his face, eyes closing and just… listened.
It was a beautiful sight to behold, to see someone could let loose of their dignity and just move their body around like that.
When you first saw him, both of you were in a club. His friends were laughing at him for dancing uncharismatic on the dance floor. But you could see the appeal from how he moved his body.
“Took you long enough,” He extended his right hand towards you, inviting you to the gala of the year, “Let’s dance, my lady.”
“You are crazy,” You said that with playfulness flying around your voice, “It’s 1 am, Satori. We would wake-”
“Just join me,” His left hand was now put on his hips, waiting for you to take his right hand, “Join me to the party where you could ease all of your problems, when else you could dance with the miracle man, Tendou Satori?”
“Uhm, everyday?” He pouted when he heard your answer, making you chuckled to see how childish he was right now, “Alright, alright. Just one song.” You put your hand on his, a cheeky grin was now plastered on his face,
“That’s what they all said at first,” The first song was done, and now you wonder what kind of song that he would play this time of night. He grabbed both of your hands and wink, “Prepare for the night of your lifetime~!”
You laughed when the tune intrude your ear, and the sight of you looking so happily like this, brought a loving smile to the man in front of you,
“Rick Astley? Really?!” You started to bob your head to the left and right, “What playlist is this? I never thought you listened to all of these songs!”
“Well, I know my wife enjoys some old songs,” He kissed your hand and twirled you around, your giggle just blessed his soul, “So enjoy~ Today, your night will be filled with my OK BOOMER playlist, made by Tendou Satori~ Just for his beloved wife.”
You were cackling uncontrollably by now. Your husband, just literally blurt out that you were a boomer when it comes to song.
Both of you were now bathed in the rhythmic sounds of drums and bass, piano and guitar, chants and cries as you move your arms and legs in a frenzied way, losing yourself in the bewilderment of a dance.
Rule 1: Enjoy the Music
Everything feels like you were all in a mirage as you close your eyes, trying to sync your hips to the beat of music.
Rule 2: Relax
Dancing had nothing to do with dancing well, at least this is the rule that you know when you met this man all of those years ago.
Rule 3: You Know What to Do!
Everyone has their own way to enjoy the music. And for the two of you, dancing without style and just absorbing the passion between each other was the way to relax.
You feel free as you laugh at how your husband moved his body. He would bam his hips with yours occasionally, making you almost fall because he used too much force sometimes.
Right now, both of you didn’t even know how many songs had passed. You have been dancing on the couch on Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go, standing on the coffee table as Super Trouper playing in the background, that, and so much more.
“Ooooh! You're gonna take me home tonight,” You stopped when you heard your husband singing the new song. Your mouth hanging open as you realised immediately what song it was.
To say that this song was fun, it is fun that you couldn’t help but snapping your finger to match the beat. But this song would always bring the sexual tension up to the roof.
You locked eyes with him, a smile slowly turned into a smirk. He was on the corner of the living room before, but in second, he stood in front of you, putting his hands on your hips.
“This song is dangerous,” You shook your head, but the smile was never once dissipate, “Oh god, what if they-”
“Shush!” He pecked your lips, a little bit harder than usual, “Enjoy this while it lasts, baby.”
That’s when you decided to let your mind free. Right here, right now, with him on the dance floor. Nothing else seemed to matter anymore as you allowed him to take you anywhere.
The two of you become one with the song, with the crazy dance, and of course, with each other.
There was something in his eyes, something between lust and mischief. And so you put your arms on his shoulders, staring intensely as the song brought the atmosphere to the next level.
The two of you still danced like before, purely idiotic and move with delight. There’s no shame, both of you just embrace the dazzling strangeness and derangement.
But yet, the movement was so different from before. There’s a lot of skinship already right now. You would dance in front of him as he pampered you from behind with kisses, starting from your lips, until down to your neck and bite it playfully.
You turned around, facing him again, a hint of mischief overpowering your worries from before. As your husband for more than five years already, he knew what’s the meaning behind your gaze.
He pushed your body to the couch, dark red orbs even get darkened by lust. His hands started to slip inside your clothes, feeling your smooth skin who was now covered with beads of sweat.
You were panting, due to the ecstatic action from before, and now added with heat as your husband started to create a magical feeling for every second passed.
One of your hands crept at his nape while the others teasingly trailed down to his boxer, trying to give him the hint. He kissed your neck patiently, making you moan out while the song was still blaring in the background, coating the action with a little more push.
“Why are you still up late?” You pushed your husband to the side, making him fall to the ground in a second, “Are you guys having a party without me?! Not fair!”
With the music blasting throughout the first floor, both of you couldn’t hear the little steps from your son. The little boy was now standing behind the coach, peeking at the two of you who were just… dancing.
“W-We were-”
“Wrestling!” Your husband who was now crying inside because he knew he wouldn’t get any action tonight, only smiled at the copycat of him who stared at his parents, “And why are you up, Shinichi?”
“I am thirsty! And I heard some brouhaha downstairs, so yeah! Here I am!” The red haired boy decided to jump out from the back of the couch to your lap, “But now I just want to sleep! Would you tell me some bedtime story, mom? These past few days have been dad non-stop and he was bad~!”
“Hey! That hurts!” You cackled, kissing your four years old son and lifting him to your embrace. The music was still blaring, but now it was changed to a ballad song, “I will clean up our mess, you go ahead, baby.”
You peck his lips, earning a little Eww by your son. Tendou just stood there as he looked at the two most important people in his life. You carefully go upstairs with little Tendou on your arms, leaving your husband to clean up the living room that looked like there's been a fight there before.
He turned off the speaker, tidy up the pillows that were splattered around the room. With you in his mind, he just wants to drift off into the dreamland with you by his side.
The magic from the dance before started to dissipate as he yawned while going upstairs, done with the living room like nothing happened there tonight.
He walked lazily to your shared bedroom, but stopped when he passed his son’s bedroom which the door was wide opened. He peeked inside, expecting to hear your soft voice as usual.
But the sight in front of him made him feel like he was the luckiest man in the world. There on the bed, you fall asleep with your son’s head falling to your shoulders.
He decided to tiptoed inside the room, trying not to wake any of you. His face was comical as he slid himself to the small bed, circled his arm to bring you and Shinichi closer so no one would fall to the floor in the middle of the night.
Even in such a little space, he felt comfortable. He was ecstatic to know that his plan worked perfectly. And right now, nuzzling on the cramped bed with his family, was the perfect outcome that he could ever ask.
✧・゚: *✧・゚:*     ༶•┈┈⛧┈♛ ♛┈⛧┈┈•༶    *:・゚✧*:・゚✧
Tagged Lovelies:
@benewol​ @letmeshouyou​ @nitricflame​ @vventure​ @heccingdead​ @muffins-puffins​ @miyulovestowrite​ @nanashinanashi​ @vlovers-world​ @proplayer-kenma​ @kashika​ @cuddlyasahi​ @blacckdiamondposts​ @muffngw​ @baby-boy-taichi​ @of-heroes-and-dreams​ @for-ests​ @giyuwu-san​ @oli-imagines​ @lordeofthunder​ @miyatsunami​ @analyze-hq​​ @tendoustan​@allywritesimagines​
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rosewater-chlxe · 4 years
Text
catch me if you can | colby brock
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✖ Summary: Colby Brock was your childhood best friend. After your teenage years spent together, he ended up leaving you and going to chase his dreams in LA. You were left stranded; stuck in an hourglass that you wish you could shatter. You still felt overwhelming emotions about him every night; but this night became different when you received a phone call at 4am. 
✖ genre ; angst, fluff
✖ warnings ; cursing
✖ requested - yes | no
✖ this was inspired by “Sleep On the Floor” by The Lumineers ❤️
✖ masterlist
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It was 4am when you were woken up to the sound of your phone ringing repeatedly, over and over; you knew exactly who would be on the other line by the song that played. When your eyes were fully open, you immediately felt anxiety in you; your chest felt heavy but the rest of your insides felt so light in such a sickening way that you could barely stand it. You looked up to the fairy lights in your bedroom still on, but dim. You always turn them off before bed. You sat up and a sense of dizziness washed over you for a second, soon you collected yourself. You felt dry mascara on your cheeks as you looked around the familiar, melancholic yet beautiful room. So many memories. So much nostalgia. As you glanced to your side, you seen the dresser on the opposite side of your room with your candles on top - each still burning like the embers ignited every night in your bones; your heart. Every night he reached out to ghosts, yet you had a seance of your own as well. Every single night. Only it wasn’t ghosts who happened to be dead - It was more of the ghosts that still live on in the past.You looked at the record player to see the two lost teenagers balter, carelessly dancing away their problems. If only you could go back to those times. Every bulb dangling across the walls was just another flashback to each chapter in your story. 
The ocean inside of you grew even more chaotic as each second went on; as the ringing on your phone continued. Part of you wanted to answer. The other however, was afraid of what might happen next.
You looked down to see no bed sheets over you, and your pillows were soaked with the saltwater tears coming from your eyes, stinging with irritation. You looked to your chair sitting still in front of your desk; or at least, the piece of clothing that draped over it. A hoodie. Most would see it as nothing. Most would just see it as something to keep someone warm. You did as well, but it wasn’t the same kind of warmth. It was grey with the logo of an “X” on it. The scent was something you recognized, even from your bed. Because the bed was the exact same. Well, some of the pillows were. The one that feels so vacant. The one that feels so bittersweet. 
The phone still kept ringing, ringing, ringing. Ringing, ringing, ringing. Over, and over - and over again. 
To be in love with someone. To be in love with a best friend. One that you could never try to have. Because he left; You were stuck in place, like a slow piano melody on repeat endlessly hoping that one day it either changes up into a breathtaking ballad, or every single one of the keys break. That the hourglass shatters. You can’t do this anymore. Still you kept going, living in the same old town where every little thing was just another memory of him. A soul in Kansas and a soul in LA. 
You looked back at the phone. Cole with a black heart. Every time he calls it’s like you see him in that red car, driving off. Like the constant ringing, it just continues; over, and over, and over again. 
You hesitantly picked up the phone. 
“Colby, why are you calling me so late? You know we’re in different time-zones, right?” You asked, faking a tone of annoyance - though deep down you know he could never bother you. 
“Go outside,” Colby stated in a hurried voice. “Cole, what the fuck are you doing?” You asked, though your heartbeat quickened at what his words. You denied the hope that swelled up in you with help from the butterflies. You pushed it away, knowing every night would continue the same. That everything would continue the same.
“Y/N, trust me. Just do it,” He pleaded. You finally gave in and threw on the old hoodie that laid across your chair. You were engulfed in the scent of his cologne; you wondered if it was still the same. You wondered if he was still the same. You knew mostly, by phone calls. But you could never truly know. You always wondered if that was for the better or for the worse. You slipped on your shoes and walked out of your house to feel rain fall onto you. You stopped in your tracks halfway down your driveway when you seen a familiar red toyota. A million emotions hit you at once, and before you even knew why, the tears started threatening you - You held it together but a few managed to slip out. 
Then someone got out of the car, and walked around the car to where you could see them clearly; They had a pained, yet relieved expression on their face and you couldn’t tell if it was just the rain, or if they were feeling the same thing as you. 
It was him. How could it be him. Why would it be him. Nothing but the sounds of rain echoed through out the street for seconds to come. Then finally, you grew brave enough to speak up. 
“C-Cole?” You asked, unsure of what would happen. It was the only thing you could manage to spit out. Your thoughts had become a whirlwind of nostalgia and feelings you’d never felt before - or at least not in quite some time. 
“You’ve been on my mind ever since I left,” Colby started to speak through tears and some pauses, “and I can’t do it anymore. I just didn’t know what to do, I didn’t plan what I was going to say, and maybe I don’t even know what I’m doing right now...”
“Cole,” You said sternly, concern slipping through the cracks in your voice.
“Just run away with me. Let’s go. Right now. No one knows I’m here. I just need you to be with me, whether it be in the middle of nowhere, or back in Los Angeles... Be with me,” He said as even more tears fell down his cheeks, “I remember when we were teenagers you used to tell me about how our lives are our own stories, and that we have chapters as well for different parts of them.. and I need you to be in the rest of my chapters. So please, Y/N, run away with me.” 
The look on his face was one you had never seen before. 
You burst out into tears. It was the one moment you had been waiting for, for so long. You ran to him like he was the only thing keeping you alive. You wrapped your arms around his torso and buried your face into his chest, gripping onto him like if you were to let go, everything would turn to ash. 
“Are you really here?” You asked hesitantly with a weak voice.
“I’m here sweetheart. I’m not going to leave. I promise.” 
Soon enough you both quickly jumped into the car, and he started driving. Your fingers intertwined, and you talked about everything. The past, the present, the future. How things had been going. What would happen once you had finally reached LA and your plans along the way. It felt so unreal. It felt like you had finally pieced together what you lost. 
That night you ended up in the middle of nowhere - but you seen a trail to walk on from the car along with a park. The trail led up to a mountain. Colby parked and stopped his car to look at you with that bright smile that you so dearly adored; the one that you had been missing all this time. 
“Wanna explore like we used to?” Colby asked excitedly, as if you were teenagers again. You could’ve teared up right then and there - but you held it in, knowing that you had forevermore. 
You both walked up the mountain, sharing smiles, memories, and laughs. Once you made it to the top, there was the most mesmerizing, beautiful sunset you had ever seen. Still, you looked at him. The most breathtaking view you had ever been blessed enough to see. 
He dropped his backpack and opened it up, pulling out a blanket with a cheeky grin, “Surpriiise!” 
You laughed in response, hugging him tighter than ever. You accidentally slipped out a few words, not even realizing until after. “I love you so much, Colby. So damn much.” 
Once you had heard yourself, you looked up at him as your heart skipped a beat. He only looked down at you with a sweet, genuine smile to reply, “I love you too, Y/N.”
Once he spread out the blanket before you, he laid down and patted the spot beside of him. You gladly did as he requested and laid down, curled up to his chest with your head resting on his broad shoulder; his arms wrapped around you with one of his hands gently, soothingly sliding up and down your back. You talked, and talked all night long as you watched the sunset. When the sky was full of bright stars, you only fondly gazed upon him. He soon realized and had the same reaction towards you. 
“I feel like I’ve been waiting for this my entire life.. I’ve just missed you so much.” You said through some tears that you yet again tried to keep in that ocean inside of you. 
“You don’t have to wait anymore, angel. I’m here, and I’m never leaving again.” Colby said to you in a soft, reassuring tone of voice. 
You smiled; for once the tears were happy. Not because of false grief or dread. Colby leaned closer to you, closing his sea blue eyes. You did the same, and felt yourself give in. You were finally free. With him. You leaned in closer, your heart swelling with euphoric butterflies. It was like you were in heaven. You had never felt more at peace, like the world was only danced upon by two youthful hearts. As if you were both the only ones in the universe along with the stars in the night sky. 
Once you opened your eyes, all of that went away. You gripped the blanket you laid on to sit up, rapidly looking around to feel a sense of dizziness. You glanced up to see not stars, but fairy lights.
You woke up.
The phone never rang.
314 notes · View notes
scribbledghost · 4 years
Note
writer’s choice! whoever inspires you today 😊 -🌿
Note: Sure thing! How about some soft Whiskey on this fine day.
balter - to dance gracelessly, but with enjoyment
basorexia - the overwhelming desire to kiss
Your home was alive, alight with the sound of laughter and song. Jack had just come home from a three-week-long mission, still riding an adrenaline high of success. As soon as he’d walked in the door, he’d come to you, pulling you into a kiss as he smiled against your lips. He hadn’t even said two words to you yet, so overcome with the desire to have his lips on yours after so long away.
Jack had wasted no time pulling you towards the kitchen, turning on the radio as he twirled you around with a broad grin on his face. The dance between the two of you was anything but graceful, but was instead an eager celebration of his return. Every so often a song would come on that the two of you knew, and you’d wind up singing along to each other.
“What’s gotten into you?” You laughed as Jack pulled you close again.
“What?” He asked as he feigned ignorance, “ain’t I allowed to celebrate a win with my favorite person in the world?”
You only laughed again and shook your head, unable to keep yourself from pulling Jack into another kiss. You lost track of how long the two of you were in your kitchen, dancing and spinning and laughing together in between shared kisses and embraces. You knew he wouldn’t be able to really tell you the details of his mission or how they’d managed to come back victorious, but that never really mattered to you, anyway.
All you knew was that your cowboy was home, and that everything was perfect once again.
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gumnut-logic · 4 years
Text
One Wednesday Night
balter (v.) - to dance artlessly, without particular grace or skill but usually with enjoyment. (from these wonderful prompts)
Just a random fluffy scene that got a little out of control. I claim no sanity.
Spoilers & Warnings: Fluff, alcohol, 3924 words.
Many thanks to @scribbles97​ for the read through and for putting up with my crazy.
I hope you enjoy it :D
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Everyone knew Virgil was the musical soul in the family. He played, wrote and occasionally bled music. It was a constant in their home and the few times it was missing due to illness or absence, it was painful.
The man could sing if he wanted to, but that was a rare thing. He could dance with the grace of any ballroom dancer, his rhythm and style even outshining his eldest brother, Mr Lady-swooner himself.
Music was part of Virgil’s soul.
So, what happened late one Wednesday night after one too many rescues and ten too many drinks was quite surprising to them all.
The Tracy brothers weren’t big drinkers. They couldn’t afford to be due to their occupation. Both Scott and Virgil had been known to down a late night sniff of whisky on occasion. John had his boutique beers, but honestly, he wasn’t home very often to drink them, and space and alcohol was never a good combination.
Gordon fancied an odd cocktail from time to time and had the liquor stash to back it up, but most of the bottles were dusty and a couple well past their expiry dates. They just didn’t have the time or the opportunity to really let rip.
But it was Wednesday. The last rescue of five had been an avalanche and they always sucked. The boys had congregated in the living room…and it was a living room, not a damned comms room because International Rescue was down for a good forty-eight hours, Grandma’s orders.
They were all exhausted, but none wanted to sleep. They wouldn’t admit it, but there was fear in what they might find behind closed eyelids after such a shitty day, so they just sat together.
At first it was quiet. One or two words, fragmented debrief, until Virgil put an end to it and demanded John come home. Now!
Fifteen minutes later, the middle brother, just as exhausted as the rest, slunk into the living room and made a seat his own.
But there was little talking, each caught up in their own thoughts.
“Screw this.” Gordon jumped to his feet. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.” And he disappeared around the corner.
Scott didn’t pay much attention, his eyes on John, assessing his condition and fast coming to the conclusion that his brother hadn’t slept in at least the last twenty-four hours judging by the bags under his eyes.
“John, have you eaten.”
Turquoise darted in his direction. “Have you?”
A blink and Scott realised he hadn’t. He had been too occupied keeping track of tired brothers. “No.” Honestly, he wasn’t hungry.
“Then you understand.”
A glare in his brother’s direction. John just turned away.
Scott’s lips thinned, but then his attention was taken by Alan, who was slowly tipping sideways on his couch, eyelids drooping. “Alan, you should go to bed.”
“Don’t wanna. Wanna stay with you guys.” His head landed on the couch cushion and two seconds later he was snoring.
Scott sighed.
“I have cake. I have popcorn. I have drinks.” Hurricane Gordon slammed into the sunken lounge and a pile of popcorn, chips, a rather large cake and a bucket of candy landed with him. The whole mess was dumped on the table and the aquanaut disappeared again.
Scott just stared at the pile of food.
“Well, that’s the healthy option.” Virgil’s voice was pure sarcasm.
“Do you really care?” Honestly, Virg.
“Not really, but the principle is there.”
Scott rolled his eyes. Just in time for Gordon to reappear with half his alcohol stash, several of John’s beers and whisky. Glorious, golden whisky.
Now that was a very good idea.
What happened after the appearance of the alcohol involved a movie Scott didn’t pay much attention to, far too much carbohydrate…c’mon, caramel popcorn, yes…and a lot of alcohol.
After all, they were down for forty-eight hours guaranteed and how often did that happen? This was an opportunity for them to focus on themselves and despite their exhaustion, there was finally a little relaxation in front of…the Enterprise?
“Who gave John the remote?!”
“I did.” The feminine AI’s voice danced through the room in amusement.
“Eos! That’s cheating!”
She giggled. “I thought Gordon was cheating when he stuck it in his drink.”
Scott turned to his aquanaut brother who was dressing the sleeping Alan’s hair with popcorn. “Gordon!”
“What?!” The cocktail in his hand had an umbrella and a remote control garnishing it.
“You drowned the remote.”
“Huh?” He looked at his drink. “Oh.” And he pulled it out of the concoction and started licking it clean.
“Augh.”
A blur of red plaid and Virgil snatched the gadget from Gordon’s fingers and flicked it into the nearest pot plant.
Gordon appeared forlorn for its absence for a whole second before turning to his drink and sculling it all in one go.
“Gordon!” This time it was Virgil yelling his name.
The aquanaut had blue curacao for lipstick. “What?!” It was a direct echo of his same exasperated response moments earlier.
“Take it easy.”
“I don’t want to take it easy. I’m having fun.” With that he grabbed a bottle and dumped something red into the same glass with the blue, resulting in a rather unpleasant purple.
Scott groaned.
Which only earned him an assessing stare from Virgil.
A sigh. “Relax, Virgil. We’re home, we’re safe. Let your hair down a little.”
He was going to regret those words later.
The stare turned into a glare, but moments later, Gordon was ribbing Virgil about drinking and somehow he got under the engineer’s skin because there was a drinking contest.
Unfortunately for Gordon, swimmer’s physique or not, apparently Virgil was more brawn and could simply just absorb the stuff.
Gordon ended up snoozing in a sea of popcorn beside Alan.
John started giggling.
Scott raised an eyebrow at the small pyramid of empty beer bottles beside his space brother.
“How many have you had?”
“It’s a tetrahedron. Work it out.” John placed a single bottle at the top of the pyramid and smirked at Scott.
This was definitely a very bad idea.
His own whisky glass was only half empty. He needed to fix that.
It was warm going down.
Gordon started snoring, loudly.
“Okay, that’s it. Time for bed.”
“Don’t wanna go to bed.” Virgil put on the soppiest puppy dog face Scott had ever seen.
John cracked up laughing.
Oh god. “No, bed, now.”
“Okay.” And Virgil stood up.
And took a quick step to the left, then the right, before managing to stabilise himself somewhat upright, but listing slightly to one side.
It was that moment that the movie playing on the holoprojector burst into music.
Music? What the hell were they watching. He stared up into a haze of rebooted retro nineteen fifties and a song about a car and lightning.
“Ooh, I like this one.”
What?
And Virgil was suddenly dancing. Well, it could be considered dancing in some circles, but it mostly consisted of a lot of poorly coordinated butt wiggling and a lot of horizon pointing arms.
The jumping on the couch was really not called for.
“Virg?”
But his brother was lost to the music and dancing his heart and his coordination all out.
“C’mon, Scott, get up and boogie!”
Of course, Virgil was loud enough to wake Gordon, who took one look at Virgil and fell off the couch.
There was far too much butt wiggling happening.
“Virg, come down from there.”
He was completely ignored.
Scott needed more alcohol.
The bottle of golden oblivion smiled at him.
Screw it.
He wasn’t quite sure what happened next, but the result was a broken lamp and Gordon on the floor laughing hard enough to break a rib.
“Eos, play Jailhouse Rock.” John managed that between giggles. Scott idly noticed that the tetrahedron had become modern art and was attempting to defy the laws of physics.
It failed with a smash and rolling of bottles two minutes later.
And Virgil was still dancing.
Classic Elvis Presley at full volume, enough to wake up every lifeform in the caldera.
The butt wiggling had morphed into hip waggling and some kind of leg shaking that threatened to faceplant his brother on the floor.
“Virg, please get off the couch.”
“I am having fun, Scott.” Each word was enunciated clearly as if the man was having trouble putting the syllables together. “Letting my hair down.” A grin and Virgil shoved his fingers into his hair and completely messed it up until it was sticking out in all directions. Suddenly a hand was almost in Scott’s face. “Join me?”
There was something in his brother’s deep brown eyes, something beyond the alcoholic haze, something desperate, something…sad.
Scott never could refuse a brother his help. So, a moment later, he found himself standing on the couch as Virgil shifted his dance moves into something that involved some shoulder rolling and a goofy grin.
Scott found himself grinning in return.
John said something half drowned out by the music and the room was suddenly filled with an old dance favourite from his teens.
Virgil actually let off a laugh and moved into a sloppy dance routine from their childhood.
Scott couldn’t help himself and at some point, he just let go.
-o-o-o-
Alan woke from one of the weirdest dreams of his life. It involved music and Thunderbird Three dancing to a beat, her arms waving about.
It took him a moment to work out exactly why.
The dream was saner than reality. Scott and Virgil were standing on one of the couches…dancing.
Alan blinked the sleep out of his eyes. Was that the Macarena? It was hard to tell. Virgil was so uncoordinated, he could have been servicing Two in his sleep for all Alan could discern. Scott was smoother, but he was leaning at a teetering angle.
Frantic eyes located his two other brothers.
John was sitting on the floor beside a pile of empty beer bottles. He had a dob of cake frosting on one eyebrow.
That left Gordon.
The strawberry blond was sitting on the floor in front of Alan’s couch.
“Gords? What’s going on?”
Gordon turned around and a soft smile curved his lips. “Big bros are letting their hair down.” The music suddenly paused and Gordon sat up straighter. “Eos, Dance Party 2054.”
More music erupted from the overhead speakers and vibrated the glass walls.
Alan found himself bopping to the beat.
Virgil climbed up off the couch and onto the hardwood floor, apparently so he could really let loose. His plaid shirt was undone and swirling around him as he moved.
Scott tripped over the top of the couch and almost faceplanted on that same hardwood, but he saved himself the bruises with those half-sharp reflexes of his. A moment later he was up boogying with his brother.
It was an odd sight.
“Are they okay?”
Gordon’s voice was quiet. “No, but they will be.”
“What about John?”
Gordon shrugged as they both eyed the slouched astronaut. “Not sure he has it in him, fresh down from Five. He’s safer on the floor.”
“What about you?”
Gordon snorted. “I’m good.” He chucked down the remains of his drink before turning to face his little brother. “Wanna dance?”
Alan’s eyes widened. “How are you?” His eyes bounced to the empty bottles on the table, the stained glasses and limp umbrellas.
“What? Do you really think I can’t outlast Virg? The man is a drinking wimp. Only took two good ones to get him dancing with the fairies. Letting him win was the hard part.”
“Win what?”
A snort. “Virg thinks he can drink me under the table. He’s small fry.” The aquanaut stumbled to his feet and Alan eyed him. Gordon had definitely had a few. “You aren’t allowed to kill brain cells. However, you can have fun, dear little brother.” He held out his hand. “May I have this dance?”
He blamed sleep fog for the automatic yes that found him up and out of the sunken lounge, careening around the room laughing his ass off.
-o-o-o-
“John, what is happening?”
The astronaut blinked dopily. Maybe he had had one too many, but with each one, the voices faded just that little bit more. Calls for help he was desperate to answer.
And the silences that followed.
“They’re dancing, Eos.” It was obvious really.
“I’ve never seen them act like this before.”
“Doesn’t happen very often.” If ever. What was Scott trying to do with their father’s chair? “Eos, could you please close the doors to the balcony.” Gravity did suck after all.
He took another swig of Swedish beer as the giant glass doors slid smoothly closed.
“Can you access the room lighting?”
“One moment. I have control, John.”
“Good. Reference the 1970s disco movement and see if you can replicate any of the lighting involved.”
“FAB.”
A few moments later and the room’s lighting went nuts. The holoprojector flickered and shone dancing rainbows on the rafters. The atmosphere changed radically as the whole room pulsed and flickered in beat with the music.
Virgil froze for a whole five seconds in the middle of the room, staring up at the glass ceiling before bursting into a massive grin and throwing himself into a full on fit of dancing to the song that was screaming out of the speakers.
Scott was pirouetting with his father’s chair in great rotating circles.
Gordon was attempting some kind of retro-breakdancing. Though at this point, the only thing that was going to be broken was pot plants.
Alan had a grin on his face and was the most coordinated of them all, jiggling along to the beat with a grin on his face.
Another figure appeared in the entrance to the room. It took John’s entire remaining intellect to realise that it was Grandma.
Something stirred in the back of John’s head, something about getting in trouble, but he had no coordination to connect the dots so gave up. Besides, the Grandma figure was only standing in the doorway watching.
“What is the purpose of all this activity?” Eos’ voice was ever curious.
“It’s fun, Eos. An attempt at stress relief.” To wash the pain away.
-o-o-o-
Virgil was vaguely aware that he was being ridiculous, but he was beyond caring. The music pulsed through him and lifted him up. He just let it all go and rode the beat.
He was too exhausted to care about anything.
Except his brothers.
He always cared about his brothers.
Scott was astride their father’s chair and was riding it across the room in a completely undignified manner. Gordon was laughing his ass off at the sight and Alan was beside him in that. Even John was grinning as the eldest coasted past.
Virgil spun and let the air stream around him.
Round and round and round.
Oh dear, too round.
He staggered to a halt, but the world kept going. He stumbled.
A hand caught him. “Take it easy, honey.”
The blur turned into his grandmother in her dressing gown.
“Grandma!” He drew her in to a massive hug. “I love you, Grandma.”
Her tiny arms hugged him back. “Virgil, you’re drunk.”
“No, no, I’m dancing. Wanna dance, Grandma?”
She was looking up at him with concern on her face.
“Smile, Grandma. You need to be happy.”
He needed to be happy.
She reached up and touched his face, her hand cupping his cheek.
He closed his eyes and leant into her palm as the beat throbbed around him.
-o-o-o-
The sight of his grandmother sobered Scott immediately. The chair beneath him drifted a few more feet before he brought it to a halt.
Grandma caught Virgil as he stumbled and they were hugging. Something about that simple gesture clenched his heart.
He clambered off the chair and staggered awkwardly. Okay, maybe he had a few too many. He forced himself upright, kicking some spine into his vertebrae and made his way over to his grandmother.
Virgil was all plaid and gentle eyes as she cupped his cheek.
“Grandma?” Scott’s voice wavered with his step.
Eyes as blue as his own turned towards him. “Scotty, you need to sit down before you fall down.”
He frowned. He had a chair a moment ago. He looked around.
A hand caught his cheek and drew his gaze back to his grandmother and those blue eyes.
A red arm wrapped around him and drew him in. “Scott, you are my big brother.” The statement was declared with so much love as he was pulled sideways into Virgil.
They almost fell in a heap. It was Grandma who steadied them.
“You boys need to go to bed.” A concerned frown and she called out to the ceiling. “Eos, kill the light show and the music.”
The silence that fell was so sudden, Scott almost fell with it.
Virgil stumbled and Scott held him upright.
An almighty crash off to their left and Gordon upended one of the large pot plants near the glass doors. Potting mix scattered across the floor. Gordon rolled over and sat up covered in the stuff. “Who turned off the music?”
Grandma straightened. “It is time for bed, young man.”
The dopey aquanaut looked up at his grandmother and squinted. “Grandma, is that you?”
She ignored him. “Alan, come here, sweety.”
Alan, who was yawning fit to break his jaw, wandered over as bidden.
“Yes, Grandma?”
She snaked an arm around his waist and drew him in. “Time for bed, Allie.”
Virgil reached out an arm to snag his littlest brother, but suddenly Gordon was in his way and he got an arm full of fish instead.
Virgil did not seem to mind. “Gordo! My wingman, my copilot, my fish in a barrel.” Red plaid squeezed tight. “Love you, bro.”
Scott blinked. That was three. Where was the other one?
A glance at the lounge found John sprawled on the floor up against one of the lounges, fast asleep.
“Oi, Johnny!”
Scott jumped at Virgil’s yell and so did John. Bleary turquoise peered in their direction.
“Get over here, little brother, group hug!”
Wha-? Scott’s head was so foggy.
But John was stumbling to his feet. Something told him this was a dangerous thing. As the astronaut wobbled over, Scott moved to help him, but found himself snagged by cast iron red plaid.
Fortunately, Alan picked up on his fellow spaceman’s difficulties and hurried over to give him a hand. A few moments of wobbly astronaut and John was standing with them.
Virgil immediately reached for him. “Johnny!”
Unfortunately, he didn’t let go of either Gordon or Scott when he did and, damn, Virgil was strong. They ended up in a huddle, Alan and Grandma awkwardly caught up with them.
“I love you guys.” Virgil’s voice was muffled up against John’s shirt. Scott had caught Grandma and Gordon had grabbed Alan. Virgil had his face mushed into John’s shoulder.
John looked like he had stuck a finger in an electrical socket and didn’t know why his hair was on fire.
“We love you, too, Virgil.” It was Gordon’s voice, muffled by Alan’s hair.
Something lodged in Scott’s throat and he found himself hugging the pieces of brother and grandmother he could reach.
Apparently, it was something they all needed, because they stayed there holding each other for a full minute.
Just long enough for Virgil to fall asleep against John’s shoulder and let off a snore. It took Gordon and Scott to catch him to prevent them all from falling in a heap.
The group hug dissolved and the focus became getting certain brothers to their bedrooms. Grandma hovered and helped where she could. Scott took Virgil, while Gordon switched to helping Alan with John.
The family went their separate ways.
Grandma followed Scott up to Virgil’s rooms. The engineer faded in and out, declaring his love for any and all brothers several times on the way up. But by the time they made it to Virgil’s room, the engineer was getting heavy.
“C’mon, Virg, not much further.” Scott was ever so glad of that as his head was still trying to swim against the current.
Letting him gently down on his bed, the man immediately curled up into a ball, fully dressed and obviously not caring. Scott undid green shoelaces, dumped boots on the floor with a clatter and yanked the covers up and over his already snoring little brother.
A hand smoothed crazed hair back into its more familiar style and Scott unfolded from the bed.
A glass of water appeared on the bedside table and he turned to find his grandmother looking at him fondly. He blinked. He had forgotten she was there.
She held out a hand and as he took it, he was drawn into a quiet hug. She was ever so little up against his bulk. “C’mon, Scotty, let’s get you to bed.”
“I’m okay, Grandma. I need to check on the others.”
She sighed, but let go a single nod.
As they left Virgil’s rooms, she didn’t leave his side.
A visit to John’s room found him in bed, but the wrong way around, his feet on the pillow, his head hanging off the end. It took some prodding and yanking, but Scott re-orientated him. A quick check of the gravity support systems in his clothing were functioning properly – the alcohol probably wasn’t helping. Grandma materialised with another glass of water which was placed on John’s bedside table.
Quietly. “Eos, are you monitoring, John’s systems?”
“Of course. He is well, Commander. Do not concern yourself. I will watch him.”
Scott’s eyes closed without permission and he had to force them open again. “Thank you, Eos.”
The AI didn’t answer.
Grandma took his arm and led him from the room.
A check on Alan found him on the floor, but that was nothing unusual. Gordon had probably dumped him there. The kid preferred the rug to his bed and Scott meant to talk to him about it, but…life.
Gordon had fallen asleep in the corridor outside his room.
Scott rolled his eyes. He wouldn’t be surprised if the brat had done that on purpose. After all the entire night’s fracas was obviously engineered by the aquanaut. A fond sigh of exasperation and he pulled his little brother into his arms and dragged him into his rooms.
Dragging fish was considerably easier than dragging two hundred pounds of engineer.
Scott threw Gordon onto his bed and covered him up. Fingers brushed hair off his face.
Scott sighed again and had to prevent himself from curling up beside his brother.
“C’mon, Scotty, your turn.”
Scott mumbled something even he didn’t fully comprehend and let his grandmother lead him out of his brother’s rooms. One of the aquariums blurped at him as he walked past.
And finally, he was in his own rooms and his own bed. Grandma handed him a glass of water. He guzzled it before burying his face in his pillow.
He opened his eyes as a hand brushed through his hair. “We love you, Scotty. Don’t you ever forget that.”
He blinked slowly and managed a smile up at his grandmother, but her fingers caressed the side of his face, forcing his eyes to close again and he drifted off.
His dreams were kind.
And full of loving family.
-o-o-o-
FIN.
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tamaraheartz · 3 years
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🙋🏻‍♂️
balter; do you dance?
illicit; have you ever broken the law?
mellifluous; name a song that calms you.
serendipity; what’s something unplanned that’s happened to you and ended well?
Hey! 🌻
Balter: Nope.
Illicit: I once accidentally took someone else's cycle in Japan and never got the chance to return it because I didn't know them, but does that count as breaking the law?
Mellifluous: Everlasting Sky by Beverly.
Serendipity (this is a wonderful question, BTW): Most of my friendships, I suppose. My best friend and I couldn't stand each other until the day we had a very detailed conversation about the best takeout order.
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renegade by Big Red Machine ft.Taylor Swift
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heliophilic-peach · 3 years
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Selina
The sun hid timidly behind the clouds that day 
Her heart fluttering at the pool of her stomach 
Her rays shone through the haze in bits and pieces 
Like fairies playing hide and seek between blossoms I danced down the concrete river as a ballerina 
Leaping across stepping stones and landing peacefully on my toes 
Her words weaved a picture of peace beyond understanding 
Rolling off her pen as smoothly as my tears did onto the page It was not the envelope 
Kissed with a bright seal inviting me to unlock the secrets whispered between her words It was not the paper 
Skin of blown dandelion in the wind carrying all her wishes to me 
A spell chosen carefully and filled with arcane intention 
Guiding my beating heart to the same rhythm of the tides 
Every movement of my tongue as I spoke it out loud felt like ribbons in water
Feeling a little more of the moon each time my fingers skimmed the surface 
My tears came at the behest of a baltering heart 
As she had signed the love letter with her name 
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beguilewritesstuff · 4 years
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Please also do balter for Reddie!!!
**As per our headcanon, Stanley lives and is happily married to Ayelet. 
Lobster <3 
Balter: to dance clumsily but with joy
“I can’t do this.”
              Eddie catches Richie before he can get away. “You have to do this.”
                “I’m going to throw up. Can I get a Scotch? Someone bring me a Scotch.”
                “No,” Eddie shakes him by the shoulders, “You can’t have a Scotch.”
                Ben appears out of nowhere with a drink in his hands. “Here you go, buddy. Scotch rocks.” 
                Richie grabs the drink and puts it back in one fell swoop. He goes to toss the glass, he’s so panicked, and thankfully, Bev is there to take it gently out of Richie’s hand. “You can do this, Richie,” she assures him.
              “No, I can’t,” Richie says. He shakes his head, looks Eddie dead in the face, his eyes wild behind his glasses with utter terror. “I can’t do it, Eds.”
              “Don’t call me that,” Eddie says, “And yes, you can.”
                Mike comes back from the double doors. “They’re starting to call our names.”
                Richie goes blanches even further. He swallows, hard, and Eddie knows that’s the once and only time Richie’s going to stop himself from puking.
              A voice echoes from inside the room ahead: “Stanley and Ayelet Uris!”
              Stan and Av stand at the double doors, shooting looks between the Losers and the applause coming from inside. Eddie nods at them – “Go! Go!” – and they do, shooting Richie supportive looks before making their entrance.
              Ben and Bev know they don’t have much time. They use their few precious seconds to try and straighten Richie up, righting his tie and boutonniere and jacket lapels. They each give him a kiss on the cheek and reassure him that he can do this, and then their names are being called, and they’re heading through the doors too.
              Richie’s eyes are as wide as they can get. He shakes his head again. “I can’t go in there.”
                “Hey, Richie,” Bill comes to stand beside them, “You have to go in there, buddy.”
                “No, nuh uh, no way. We should have just done city hall. We should have totally just gone with the JP.”
              Eddie smacks him on the shoulder and hisses, “This was all your idea!”
              Richie’s still staring at the doors. “Technically it was my agent’s idea-“
              Another smack. “OW!” Richie finally looks at him. “What the hell, Eds?”
                “Stop calling me that!”
              Bill and Mike hear their names being called. They squeeze Richie’s shoulder. “You can do this,” Mike says, and he walks with Bill into the room.
              Eddie shakes Richie before he can get lost in the room again. “Hey! You listen to me: you can do this. You wanna know how I know that? Because you are Richard ‘Trashmouth’ Tozier. There isn’t a stand-up comedian in the world who has bombed as badly as you have.”
                “Is this supposed to make me feel better?” Richie asks.
              “No, asshole! It’s supposed to point out that whatever you’re afraid of in that room? You already faced it!”
                Their names get called. Eddie grabs Richie by the lapels of his jacket and yanks his gigantic ass down so they’re eye to eye. “You’ve bombed. You’ve puked. You’ve run away terrified. You’ve made an ass of yourself in public by choice so many times that TMZ stopped reporting on it. The video of you drunk tackling a Christmas tree in downtown LA is still one of the most watched videos on the internet!”
                Their names are being called again. Richie doesn’t hear it. “That video is some of my best work.”
            �� Eddie draws Richie even closer, so close their noses are touching and if Richie’s glasses weren’t eight inches thick, their eyelashes would be brushing together. “You stood up to a giant, child-eating sewer-clown monster, and you kicked its fucking ass.”
              “We kicked its ass.”
                “Yeah, WE kicked its ass.” Eddie loosens his grip, and he’s relieved when Richie doesn’t pull away, even when their names are called again. “Now whatever you’re afraid of in that room, it’s nothing – NOTHING! – that could ever scare you. And even if it does, you’ll kick its ass too. Just maybe not literally. Not this time.”
                “Yeah,” Richie says.
              “Yeah?” Eddie prompts.
                “Yeah,” Richie nods, “Yeah, okay. Okay.”
                Just to be sure: “Rich?”
                “Yeah?”
                Eddie, dead serious, as their names are called again: “I fucked your mom.”
                Richie kisses him. Hard and quick. Eddie takes advantage of his distraction, grabs Richie by the arm, and he plunges them headlong into the room.
              The DJ gets their names out one more time – “EDDIE AND RICHIE!” – and the room erupts in applause. Everyone’s standing at their tables, smiling faces all around, frozen in the flash of cameras from every possible direction. Eddie remembers to smile, and he elbows Richie to make sure he remembers too. Half their wedding photos are going to be Richie looking like he’s caught in the deadlights – which is exactly what Eddie said when they were planning, but this was all Richie’s idea.
              And now, Richie is really trying. He seems to remember why he was so scared in the hallway, especially when they make their way into the middle of the dance floor. Another thing Eddie had said they didn’t have to do but the great Trashmouth insisted. They were having a bombastic wedding, a big middle finger to the Kardashians and the Royal Family. They were doing every traditional thing, and they were going to do it better. Giant synagogue wedding? Check. Giant reception? Check. First dance? Check. They even took lessons. Richie Tozier, the man who wouldn’t take a class for anything if his life depended on it, took several dance classes. Practiced, even! With Eddie, with his agent, with his PA, by himself.
              May as well have not happened. Richie gets to the centre of the dance floor, and even though Eddie takes him by the hands, Richie’s lost in the room again. Lost in the deadlights of camera flashes. The announcement gets made about their first dance, and the music comes on, and Richie snaps back to attention, but it’s so clear he has no idea what he’s doing.
              “Fuck, fuck-“
              “Rich, you’re fine,” Eddie reminds him.
              “I lost the beat. Where’s the beat?”
                Eddie nods the beat for him. “You haven’t lost it. It’s right here. Just listen.”
                Richie kicks Eddie in the shin. Then kicks himself. He’s still looking at the camera. “Nope. Fuck. Gone.” He tears himself out of Eddie’s hands and tries to get to the head table.
              Eddie rushes up and grabs Richie by the hand, tugging him back. He sees a flash of red in the corner of his eye: Bev rushing behind the head table, straight up to the DJ. Eddie puts his eyes back on Richie. “Sewer clown, Richie!”
                “This is worse!”
                “You fucked my mom!”
                “No, I didn’t! I couldn’t!”
              The track scratches. Richie glances around the room, terror melting into confusion as the music changes to a thoroughly un-first dance track, an aggressive bass and riff. “Is this ‘Anti-Social’ by Anthrax?”
              Eddie laughs. He looks at Bev, who gives him a thumbs up from behind the DJ. “Yeah, it is.”
                “No, but…this was supposed to be perfect,” Richie says.
              “Asshole, you were running away a second ago! You want this to be perfect? Dance with me! Fucking dance with me!”
              Before Richie can try running away again, Eddie jumps. He puts his hands in the air, he waves them around to what might be the rhythm of the song. He starts moving his feet and his hips. He starts dancing as poorly as he can, so badly he can hear his mother moaning about it at her table behind him. He doesn’t care. He has Richie’s full and undivided attention and earns himself a, “What the fuck are you doing?”
                “I’m dancing!” Eddie says, jumping again. “This is my first dance on my wedding day! With my husband, who’s not fucking dancing!”
              “That’s not dancing!” Richie says.
              “Oh, no?”
                “NO!” Richie snaps. He starts in with what looks like a mockery of Eddie’s actions, but when it continues, when Richie shouts back, “THIS IS DANCING!” Eddie realizes it’s Richie’s attempt, in earnest, to keep up with him. To keep this stupid, perfect first dance of theirs going.
              At some point the track ends. The DJ sounds bewildered as he announces that it’s time for the other Losers to hit the dance floor, and everybody in the audience makes their faces. Eddie barely notices. He’s got his hands on Richie’s hips, and Richie is kissing him, and the moment is only broken when the next song hits.
              “New Kids on the Block?” Richie demands. He glares at the DJ. “Fucking New Kids on the Block? AT MY WEDDING!?”
              Bev is beaming as she draws Ben out to the dance floor, as Stanely and Ayelet join them, as Mike and Bill appear. Eddie draws Richie to look back at him. “Yeah, asshole: at your wedding.”
              Richie hears the word from Eddie’s mouth – his husband’s mouth – and he smiles. Then he gets his ass back to dancing.
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ellagoodhair · 4 years
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Tomorrow is holocaust Remembrance Day here in israel. this picture was taken in auschwitz when I was visiting there it is part of a page from a huge book dedicated for the victims of the holocaust. My last name as some of you may know is balter and my grandparents are both holocaust survivors from Poland. Seeing how many victims share my last name really hit close to home knowing some of them are related to me. please try to be kind to each other please never stay quite and speak up while people are being anti Semitic or xenophobic and educate yourself about the holocaust.
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clownsgobeepbeep · 4 years
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balter: (v.) to dance gracelessly, but with enjoyment
Okay, so this is a little longer than planned but I hope it’s to your enjoyment ^^’
Also, thank you for giving me the chance to write this heheh
Work was a hassle for some, but it proved to be quite nice at times.
Atlas thought to himself that today was one of those nice days. Outside his shop there was a chilly weather, one that made people cover themselves with a warm scarf and perhaps hat. Inside his shop, however, there was an atmosphere of warmth and coziness, especially for those who got to get something from the tiny tea shop located in the hidden library he provided for ‘trusted clientele’.
Now that Atlas thought to himself, he lifted his head once a scent hit his nose. He shut the book he had been reading, making sure to keep a finger between the pages as he looked for his bookmark but also around. 
Finally, his hand found the bookmark he used ever since it was made a while ago. Atlas smiled to himself when he took a look at it, examining the tree that had been painted on with tiny fingers, tiny fingers belonging to a certain pair of boys. He placed the bookmark inside before setting his book down to give a stretch and then turn to where he heard a bell ring. 
Oh yes, there was that scent he caught just a moment ago. His smile then grew once he saw a lovely woman walk in through the door of his shop, and she pushed on a stroller containing to infants that were both fast asleep. Atlas felt a warmth course through his chest as he saw such a sight, especially as the woman smiled back at him.
“I brought you some hot chocolate.”
“You shouldn’t have.” Atlas replied as he now took the cup he was offered, leaning down to kiss his wife’s lips. “I could have gotten one myself.”
“That’s true.” she shrugged before taking a sip out of her own cup which was no doubt a pumpkin spice latte. “But I wanted to be a nice wife and give you some freshly made hot chocolate.”
“Well thank you.” Atlas glanced down at the children in the stroller, then crouching down as he looked at the two who tightly hugged their respective plush animals. “How long have they been out?”
“Ever since we left the shop.” Ula quietly giggled to herself as Atlas ruffled both of the boys’ locks. “Anyways, you up for a picnic later?”
“Sounds like a good offer.” Atlas nodded before standing back up to his height. “Should I start closing? Shop’s kinda empty at the moment. Is Schrader also coming?”
“Yeah he is, we can wait a little more.” Ula shook her head. “Besides the fact that my legs are killing me at the moment, Schrader said he’d meet us here. He’s also bringing the stuff.”
“Where is he right now?”
“Talking business with the family.” Ula sat on a nearby seat, a hand still holding onto the stroller. “I doubt he’ll be long since he left a little after you did.”
“Oh cool. Then I suggest you rest in the meantime.” Atlas offered his hands that Ula accepted, right before she was helped up and into his arms which surprised her but made her giggle. “I’ll get the boys in just a bit.”
“I can walk you know.” 
“I know, but I also know you like to be carried.”
“You know me too well.”
As Atlas carried his tiny wife away, a pair of eyes opened, awakening from a slumber interrupted by the lack of a mother’s scent. 
A blue eye and a hazel eye were revealed after a fluttering, their owner’s hands instinctively squeezing his tiny nails into the plush shark he had been snuggling with. He shook his head before his vision had finally cleared, and he recognized exactly where he was. His head turned to the side where he saw another like him, the one he recognized as his brother, and he saw how he snuggled into the soft fur of his plush rabbit.
The other boy was still deep in his slumber, only some of his fingers twitching every now and then. Best not to wake him just yet.
There was then the sound of footsteps that caused the first baby to shut his eyes and pretend he was still asleep himself. Soon enough, he felt himself be moved as his stroller was pushed, his mother’s scent finally returning which prompted him to open his hazel eye to see that she was comfortably seated on a couch with a book in her hands.
Right then, there was another sound: a ringing bell. This was then followed by footsteps from the same man from before, his brother’s father and his dad. The baby watched as he walked out and disappeared, but he was heard greeting who was no doubt a customer.
“Basil? Rowan?” came Ula’s voice, the baby once again feigning sleep. “Are you boys still napping?”
The woman received no response and even behind closed eyes the baby could tell that she gave a soft smile as she checked up on her boys.
“Mommy will be right back.” she whispered, then placing a kiss on each of the boys’ foreheads before making her way into the aisles of books.
Basil opened both of his eyes again, watching his mother walk away before giving a bit of a yelp that made his eyes widen with worry. However, he saw that she had only dropped her book after bumping into somebody that the boy could tell was the latest customer.
“Stars, I’m sorry. I wasn’t watching where I was going.” Ula apologized to the man who politely smiled at her, shaking his head.
“It’s alright, it was my fault. I wasn’t paying attention.” he chuckled, then excusing himself to walk by Ula who did the same. However, Basil was not oblivious to the customer’s hungry eyes that looked Ula up and down behind her back.
Basil’s hands curled up into tiny fists at such a disrespectful action, but he managed to calm himself down in the moment. One of his hands reached out to his side where he tapped a chest, then hearing a hitched breath come from his brother who was now awake.
Rowan groggily lifted his head before blinking away his drowsiness, finally turning to Basil who quietly cooed. Green eyes blinked at Basil before glancing over at what Basil signaled to, Rowan seeing the customer who was now looking through the books.
A coo was now Rowan’s response, and Basil cooed again. The boys continued to exchange looks and coos, right before they looked back at the man who was once again watching Ula’s every move.
While this happened, Atlas stood by one of the shelves where he reorganized some books that had been misplaced earlier. He quietly hummed to himself, never hearing the exchanging between the infants who finally kept to themselves and quieted down. That was when Atlas felt as if something was off; there was a feeling he simply could not shake away, and it was rather annoying.
So, Atlas set his small pile of books down before approaching the boys, smiling when he found them still asleep, or so he thought. He then turned around to look for his wife, once again relieved when he spotted her looking through horror books which was quite expected. However, Atlas could still not shake the annoying feeling away; his eyes glanced over to the side where he felt something was off, and there it was.
The customer he had greeted stood by a shelf; an open book in his hands as that he pretended to read while his eyes were actually glued onto Ula who was far too focused on her book selecting.
A frown came upon Atlas’ face before he made his way over to the long space between Ula and the man, and he pretended to fix some books while looking the man in the eye.
The customer took the hint, shrugging to himself before closing his book and making his way to another shelf while grumbling under his breath.
Atlas rolled his eyes before making his way back to the stroller, sitting on the couch beside it with a deep sigh. He knew he couldn’t control such things, and it was best not to make a big fuss about it. So he only glanced over at his wife and just as he was about to smile at her, a frown came back once the customer came towards Ula with a hand on her shoulder.
“Oh! I’m sorry, again.” he started. “I didn’t mean to startle you, I just needed to ask your opinion on this.”
“Yes?” Ula blinked at the man after shrugging his hand off her, turning to him politely before he showed her two books. 
“Which would you say is a better pick?”
“I say you take both.” came Atlas’ voice as he now stood between the pair, Ula smiling as she felt him place an arm on her shoulder. “The more the merrier.”
“Sorry, I was asking her-”
“I agree with him.” Ula shrugged. “The more books the better. Besides, they’re both good choices.”
“Huh.” the man nodded before staring up at Atlas who stared right back in a menacing manner. “Guess I might take both then.”
“Would you like to pay for them now?”
“No, no. I think I’m gonna go look around some more.” the man shook his head, his eyes landing right on Atlas’ wedding band on the arm he had draped over Ula. “Are these little guys yours? They’re cute ones.”
“They sure are.” Ula nodded as she and Atlas watched the man walk to the stroller where Basil and Rowan still pretended to sleep.
“Is this one adopted?” the customer pointed to Basil. “Looks nothing like the other one.”
“Well, they’re actually twins.” Ula cleared her throat. “Different...fathers.”
“Huh. Interesting.” a nod came from the man who pinched Basil’s cheek, never realizing that the baby’s blue eye opened after he stepped away. “Anyways, I’ll continue looking through, don’t mind me.”
Once the man was out of sight and Atlas checked on the boys one last time, both Basil and Rowan glanced at each other with a nod. Especially after hearing the man continue to talk to himself.
_____________
“Fucking ass. What’s he think he is?” the customer muttered out while skimming through a book. “Can’t believe they made that kid. Wonder what the other asshole looks like. Probably cheated with him.”
The man was then slightly startled once he heard something beside him, turning to see that a book had fallen out of the shelf. He gave a scoff and roll of his eyes before looking back at his book.
“The more the merrier, probably why she-”
Another book fell. 
“What the hell?” he blinked, completely puzzled before he noticed a book slide out by itself before falling to the ground with the other two. “Whoa, what the hell.”
He took a step backwards before a fourth book followed, and then a fifth when he took another step. The process continued until he heard a coo behind him, so he turned and was surprised to see the brown haired baby sitting on the ground as he nibbled on his own finger.
“I feel like I’m tripping.”he blinked again, right before he squat down to be closer to Rowan who merely stared at him. “How’d you get over here?”
Rowan ceased his nibbling, then crawling towards him with a giggle. Rowan picked up one of the books on the ground before looking through it in a casual manner, nodding as he was pleased to be looking through a cook book.
The man’s attention was then grabbed by something, hearing a sort of scratching sound that made him turn and look upwards. His eyes soon widened in terror as he caught sight of the other baby, this one not sitting anywhere but instead crawling on the ceiling to stop over the man’s head.
In a swift move, Basil pounced onto the man’s head with a hiss and bite that made the man shriek in pain. Basils’ claws dug deep into the man’s head as he made sure to have a tight hold on him, the latter trying to wiggle the baby off him.
Meanwhile, Rowan continued to look through each of the pages of his books until finally finding what he wanted. His little fingers grazed over the glossy page, eyes examining what was the picture of a kitchen knife besides some food pertaining to the recipe on the other page. So, Rowan placed his hand on the knife before closing it into a fist. However, he now found that there was a kitchen knife in his hand and missing from the book, making him nod before he cooed at his brother who was still clinging onto the man.
“What is going on over here!?” shouted Rowan’s father who dashed into the aisle with Ula behind, both gasping at the scene. “Basil!”
“Rowan!” Ula exclaimed as she saw the baby with a large knife, and he threw it directly at his brother who no doubt intended on catching it to use it, but the throw was interrupted by Atlas’ hand that caught it in mid air.
“Get this thing off me! Get it off! Get it off!”
Soon enough, Basil was thrown off the man and into the air. Thankfully, Basil was caught by Atlas again who held him to his chest while the man attempted to make his escape, yet he was interrupted by a heavy book landing on his head.
The man blinked quite the few times as he held his head, not being able to keep his balance as a new pain found its way in his head. He attempted to stand straight, but it proved to be difficult with his now blurred vision and silly steps.
It was a balter. A graceless dance that contained enjoyment; perhaps not his own but it was quite delightful in the eyes of Rowan who sat on top of a book shelf with yet another heavy book in his hands. Once again, he made sure to throw the book onto the man who fell to the ground with such impact.
He immediately stood up, hurrying towards the front door to finally leave, but he was stopped when he felt a pain in his ankle. His eyes darted to the location of his pain before seeing Rowan biting into him just as Basil did before. The man reacted quickly and kicked his leg forwards, soon sending Rowan flying .
“Rowan!” Ula once again shrieked, attempting to run over to the baby who eventually landed.
Not to the man’s knowledge, Rowan landed in the arms of another man who had just stepped into the shop and into this man the customer bumped into before falling backwards.
“Please, y-you gotta help me man!” he stammered out. “These freaks are trying to kill-”
He then stopped himself upon the realization that this new man carried Rowan who snuggled into his chest, eyes glancing up at the pale features that included blue eyes and black hair. Looks just like the “adopted” baby.
“So,” the new man started before ruffling Rowan’s hair. “I’m guessing the boys are gonna have a quick bite before the picnic.”
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haledamage · 4 years
Text
Rhitober, Day 20
(continuing from the prompts here, this time:  balter for Kai & Eder :) using my modern au Cafe Nua setting because I love it and don’t visit it enough)
“Kiki, we’ve talked about this.” Edér had to yell to be heard over the thrumming, relentless beat of what Kai called music.
She lunged for her phone to turn it off. The sudden silence was startling and vast in its wake. “I’m sorry. You said you wouldn’t be home for a few days.”
Edér shrugged, clearly not actually annoyed by being awoken at 3am in such a way. “I got in about an hour ago. You okay?”
“Yeah.” He raised a pale eyebrow, disbelieving, so Kai said again, “Yes. I just… had another one of those dreams. I think they’re scared of you, my dear. I don’t have them as often since I moved in here.”
“Maybe you just feel safer with me around.” There was no arrogance in the way he said it, no bragging or insinuations. He just stated it as a fact.
The most terrifying part to Kai was that he was right.
Edér washed away the subject with a curling stream of pipe smoke, the sweet-acrid scent of it mixing with the aroma of sugar and baking things that filled the kitchen. “How many batches of cookies you made so far, Kiki?”
“Just two. Well, three. Third one’s in the oven now.” She indicated the cookies in question, a plate of ginger biscuits and another of snickerdoodles sitting on the counter. Edér grabbed one of each and leaned a hip against the counter, looking content.
“You know, I wouldn’t have a problem with you doin’ this if you had better taste in music,” he said once he was done eating. “If you’re gonna wake me up before dawn, at least give me something I can dance to.”
“You can dance?”
He shrugged. “Sure, anyone can dance. I ain’t any good at it, but that’s not the point.”
Kai, who had been raised to believe that nothing was worth doing if you weren’t good at it, bit her lip to keep from replying. She watched as Edér seemed to come to a decision, and he walked over to where her phone still lay on the counter and unlocked it, scrolling through as if looking for something. She considered protesting, but she’d gotten used to his loose interpretation of personal boundaries by now. He wouldn’t go into anything private, and if she really had a problem with it she could have fingerprint-locked her phone by now and she hadn’t.
He finally found what he was looking for and music filled the kitchen again, something upbeat and buoyant.
Edér held a hand out to her. “May I have this dance, Watcher?”
Kai shook her head. “Oh no. No way. I don’t dance.” She lifted her hands up in front of herself as if it ward him off, but he took the opportunity and grabbed her wrist, pulling her onto his improvised dancefloor.
However bad they may or may not have been individually, Kai and Edér were terrible dance partners. What he lacked in finesse, she matched in rigidity, and by the time the timer went off for the last batch of cookies, they both probably had bruises on their feet. But, eventually - very eventually - she started to relax and have fun, which was probably the point he’d been trying to make to begin with.
She tried to teach him to waltz, the closest thing she had to actual training in the art. Kai didn’t know how to lead and Edér didn’t know the steps and the room was too small for it, but they tried to make it work anyway.
It ended, perhaps inevitably, with them covered in flour after knocking the bag off the counter.
“You ever thought of dying your hair, Kiki?” Edér grinned, trying to clear flour from his pipe. “White’s a good look for you.”
“Is it?” Kai dipped her hands into the pile nearest to her and rubbed the flour across Edér’s face, leaving a trail of white powder across his nose and cheeks. “Oh yes, I see what you mean, dear. Very dashing.”
She made an undignified squawking sound as he picked up a handful of flour and threw it at her.
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