#verse one.

[whitewdow]

cont. from ( x ) / @vspomnit

“and what if i like dateline?” she’s aiming a french fry straight at his head, scolding him with a tsk in the process. “i pour my heart out to you and you make fun of me.”

he’s right, she knows how she sounds. maybe it’s the fuzzy robes, the makeshift motel spa day that has her spilling her guts. sprawled out on a sofa each, it’s like all those movies she’s seen.

“plus, you know i can’t do that.” her own worst enemy, she’ll ruin it for herself. meeting a stranger, someone outside of their world, it all seems like a good idea in theory. a clean slate, a new beginning. but their world never goes away and how do you explain that? she doesn’t want to explain it. her past, their present, the inevitable future.

is it an excuse? an unwillingness? a pitiful affair? maybe she's just not ready yet. or maybe she's still stuck on a raven haired archer. jury's still out on that one. it'll stay out for a while.

“what about you, huh? do i need to break and enter anymore homes? an office? steal some dogs? or a cat? ruin someone's day? i'm ready. ”

[tellwolves]

@inrovina

"hi."

using his hip to open the saloon-style doors into the kitchen, finn cradles two brown paper grocery bags—full—in the crook of his left arm.

"you get a haircut?" his right hand casually ruffles xeno's mop as he passes. "you look different. nnno, don't tell me. you tried a new shade of red."

[timechange]

@doctorbrown asks: “ i’m here, kid, shh. ”

‘KID’ NICKNAME STARTERS. always accepting.

It's 1:33 AM. It's always 1:33 AM.

He remembers the scream tearing out of his throat, but this time it’s like he can’t say anything at all. The gunshots burst in his ears. Blood runs over concrete as he runs, rubber soles pounding, because this can't be happening again, it can't—

The hand on his forehead is freezing, fingertips brushing his hair back, but it feels so good he can't help but turn toward it even as he shivers, wracked with cold. It's the middle of October and it feels like it's 90 degrees.

"Doc." It's more of a whimper than Marty would ever like to admit. Blue eyes, fever-bright and dazed, slowly slide open, meeting the scientist’s gaze after a few moments too long.

“Wait, what’re you doing out of bed?!” he exclaims, blind panic and adrenaline overtaking him as he tries to sit up. “Your chest— and-and your head! I’m s’posed to be keepin’ an eye on you! I—”

The exhaustion catches up with him as he falls back onto the cot. Wait, when did he get here? Last thing he remembered, he was sitting on the floor…

His eyes turn glassy with unshed tears.

“I didn’t mean to fall asleep… I’m sorry…”

[precipine]

"Ah, the holidays... that special time of year when we all sit down to watch Phenomenon on 43rd Street and Grunkle Stan wipes away a tear and goes 'now that's the holiday spirit, breaking and entering!'"

"Then he gives Mabel and me huge hugs and is all like 'kids... I've committed multiple felonies for you before and I'd do it again.'"

"He does this every year."

[vingtiemes]

@dreamsofalife inquires: “isn’t it beautiful here, tintin? the air is golden.”

ENCHANTED APRIL SENTENCE STARTERS. always accepting.

The boy reporter was standing on the deck of the vacation cottage, the ocean just on the horizon, and for once thinking of nothing but the salted air in his lungs and the sun on his skin.

"Yes, it's marvelous, isn't it?"

He turns to face his friend, smile almost as brilliant as their newfound surroundings. For all he adored, in the Captain's words, 'gallivanting about and getting into trouble' and going on adventures, he had to say that a holiday was very welcome (especially after the last few weeks they'd had).

"How are you settling in, Shy?" he asks. "What is it you want to do first? I was thinking I'd like to take a walk on the beach. Maybe we could go for a swim after lunch? And perhaps the Captain could--"

From inside the house, he hears a familiar BLISTERING BARNACLES! and the sound of the Captain's suitcase tumbling down the stairs. There's grumbling and the sound of heavy footsteps, then footsteps punctuated by thuds as the Captain painstakingly drags the suitcase back up to the top of the stairs. Tintin bites his bottom lip, fighting a laugh, as he continues.

"--perhaps he'd like to join us once he's, erm... unpacked."

[denniisa]

@clockturned sent : grab, sender grabs receiver's wrist to stop them from leaving. ( from mac )

they were storming out, or at least that's what they were intending to do. that was until mac had reached his hand over to gently wrap around their wrist, stopping dennis in their tracks. he turns on his heels, whipping around to face the other, jaw clenched and lips twitching as his eyes narrow. "i'm done listening to this, mac." he states firmly, but he doesn't pull his wrist free from mac's grasp.

mac had been talking about johnny again, and dennis was unable to ignore the shame that began to bubble up inside of him. quickly the shame morphed into anger ... it was easier to process it that way. instead of focusing on what they did wrong, they would focus on how ridiculous it was that mac was still talking about johnny like it was someone else. they would focus on mac's weaknesses rather than focusing on their own.

"you really are the most idiotic man i know." they comment, twisting the knife in hopes that it would stop this. they still haven't moved, their wrist still in mac's grip ( was he always this warm ?? ). they could ignore the shame, sure, but it was pretty damn difficult to ignore the fluttering of his heart when mac's fingers wrapped around their wrist. eyes roll, faking confidence, driving it home with a small 'tisk'. "now let me go, and stop talking about 'johnny' in front of me."

[starsdreamed]

@ofstarfleet wonders: i’ve had people out, trying to find you everywhere. why did you worry us like that?

STAR TREK: THE NEXT GENERATION. always accepting.

"...Worry?" Asa repeats, blinking as his head cants to the left. The young boy knows that the captain's words are true-- worry, anger, and fear are all swirling in their eyes-- but he's confused. He was always on his own back home and none of the Dreamers minded, so--

"You couldn't tell, could you?" he murmurs, remorse radiating from him and flowing into the surrounding air at the realization. Remembering that he has to be more clear, he continues. "That I was alright?... Back home they could. They always knew. They still do," he elaborates. The idea that people light years away know more about him-- his thoughts, his feelings-- than the crew right in front of him is so strange.

"I'm sorry," Asa apologizes, genuine. "I thought you knew, too." After a moment, the boy looks up at the captain. "Do you want me to tell you next time, before I go?" he asks, before echoing something Doctor McCoy had told him. "Use my words?"