#// LOOK HOW TINY MICHAEL IS GOODBYE

[wendyfulmother]

I TOOK SCREENSHOTS OF THE VIDEO I FOUND ON INSTA AND

MY BABIES MY BABIES MY BABIES

[sayoneee]

☆ PARENT TRAP

in which, a plan is devised to set the two of you up (1.9k)

contains: luke castellan x fem! reader. mortal au. baby percabeth (they are 12). percys pov. loser older brother luke castellan 🔛🔝

kashaf’s note: i think we can tell i love my music references by now. (answering requests soon!)

i. remember the time - michael jackson

PERCY HAS ALWAYS liked afternoons: sitting on the green couch in his apartment, the smell of his favorite blue cookies wafting through the air, and the constantly running episodes of gilmore girls on the tv — that you had convinced him to give a try — and sometimes the addition of grover, who was prone to start passionate tirades on climate change.

though after summer camp, his relatively quiet afternoons now included at least two mentions of “seaweed brain” and two of “wise girl”. 

percy’s trying to stay focused on rory freaking out over thanking dean for something (annabeth is almost laser-focused), but the doorbell rang a while ago, and you still haven’t returned. 

“annabeth,” he whispered, to no avail — he guessed dean really had that effect on people. he tried again, waving a hand in front of her face. she blinked twice before being lifted from the spell of gilmore girls. 

“what?” annabeth asked.

“who’s at the door?” 

annabeth’s eyebrows rose. she turned around, looking past where you were still holding the door open, one hand animatedly gesticulating, the other still on the doorknob. 

“that’s my brother,” annabeth said, turning back to look at percy. 

but percy isn’t paying attention to her right now, instead, he’s focusing on the bits of conversation audible between you and this stranger, who’s smiling very peculiarly down at you.

“— no way, me too,” the stranger is saying, grinning.

you’re saying, “deadass? prove it —” 

“— are you always so skeptical —” 

percy gets up off the couch, annabeth beside him, striding over to you and the stranger, who, for a reason he can’t quite put a finger on, seems weird. 

“hi,” percy says, looking at you, pointedly ignoring the stranger. you and the stranger seem to freeze, your hand halting mid-tuck of your hair behind your ear, something percy has only seen you do around one of your ex-boyfriends. 

“hi,” annabeth says, looking at the stranger, who smiles in response. again, weird.

“ready to go?” the stranger asks, “or are you going to take over their spare bedroom?”

“luke, you’re not funny,” annabeth grumbles, but she doesn’t look that put out by luke’s teasing percy notes. 

you’re smiling, but you’re not looking at annabeth. you’re looking at luke, your one hand still on the doorknob. interesting. 

“you’ve got your yankees cap?” you confirm as annabeth laces up her converse, as you and luke are engaged in a tiny conversation of your own. percy wordlessly hands the worn-out cap to annabeth once she’s finished, saying his goodbye.

once annabeth and her brother are long gone and you’re no longer leaning against the door, you’re still smiling widely, and percy wonders why.

ii. shoop - salt n pepa  

gilmore girls is on again, and luke is here to pick up annabeth. again. but for whatever reason, annabeth still hasn’t left, and you and luke are sitting in the kitchen, alone, conversing loudly. 

annabeth isn’t as hyper-focused on dean and rory’s argument as percy had thought she would be a week ago — he assumed that dean’s appeal died the minute he got mad in that banged-up car. annabeth is saying something about architecture, eyes shining, though he’s not sure which one she’s talking about, hagia sophia or st. basil’s cathedral. your loud laugh seems to ring from the kitchen every minute or so, and well since you’ve begun babysitting him, he can’t say the sound is unfamiliar, but the frequency is suspicious. he doesn’t trust luke. 

“annabeth,” he says, when she’s stopped talking.

“percy,” she responds in the same tone, her smile bright.

“how long has your brother been in the kitchen for?” he says, trying to sound nonchalant, but missing the mark horrifically.

annabeth looks at the watch on her wrist, “woah —”

“what does woah mean?” percy knows he’s being impolite, and his mom taught him to never interrupt people, but he can’t help it at this moment. 

“i was just getting to that, seaweed brain,” annabeth rolled her eyes good-naturedly, “we were supposed to leave an hour and half ago.”

this was bizarre. “no offense, but what does my babysitter and your brother even have in common to be talking nonstop for an hour and half?”

“no idea,” annabeth says, thoughtfully. “is she in a band? luke’s in a band.”

“no,” percy says, but he thinks he remembers your last boyfriend being in a band. “is your brother a senior?”

“yeah — does she do boxing? luke does.”

“i actually don’t know,” percy pauses, “i think we should see for ourselves,” he stands up. 

“wait,” annabeth says, “they might go quiet if they see we’re around. let’s just turn off the tv and eavesdrop.”

percy grins, annabeth was such a genius, “you got it, wise girl.” 

they’re both so silent, he wonders if you’ll notice, but with the way you’re laughing again, borderline giggling, actually — which is odd — as you say, “shut up, you know what i meant,” he doesn’t think you’ll realize. 

“erm, actually i don’t,” luke says, nasally (in what percy hopes is mockery). 

percy looks at annabeth, who rolls her eyes at him and mouths, ‘he’s being ironic’. percy stares at the patterns in the carpet, and annabeth stares at the picture of percy and his mom hung on the wall, as they continue to strain their ears — which isn’t hard because of how noisy you and luke are together.

“you’re so insufferable.”

“and you’re the one who invited me in, so.”

“i was being nice,” you sound like you’re protesting, but percy and annabeth note the amusement in your voice with another shared glance.

“you? nice? let’s be forreal.”

“i’m literally not even mean.”

“you literally are.”

annabeth peeks at him, and percy thinks he’s had enough of listening to this conversation, which is quickly becoming weird. and mushy. he can practically see how you’re looking at luke, and how he’s looking at you, which is not at all something he wants to imagine.

he nods at annabeth, and they both try to make their footsteps as loud as possible when they start approaching the kitchen, just in case. 

he’s grateful to every higher being out there when he and annabeth find you and luke in the kitchen simply sitting next to each other, no funny business involved. 

iii. doo wop (that thing) - ms. lauryn hill

you’re on the phone, giggling. annabeth is over again, and there’s no luke in sight, but percy suspects he’s on the other end of the line. 

percy sighs and turns to annabeth, who always seems to know what to do because this little situation has gotten unbelievably out of hand. 

“is that your brother on the phone?”

annabeth’s concentration on the teetering jenga tower on the coffee table lingers, doo wop (that thing) playing on the tv in the background, “yeah, i think so.”

“how do you know?” percy asks, watching annabeth carefully choose a jenga block to remove.

“they like each other,” annabeth says, looking at him, as if it’s as obvious as grass being green.

“no, they don’t,” percy pauses for a minute when annabeth raises her eyebrows at him. “how do you know?” 

“luke’s always calling her at home,” annabeth said, “and he made her a mixtape.”

“that doesn’t mean they like each other, that just means he likes her,” percy points out, crossing his arms. 

they hear you giggle in the kitchen again. annabeth looks at him as if that proves her point.

annabeth blinks, her face lighting up, “oh my god, percy, we should set them up.” 

percy stares at her. he can’t deny that for as long as he’s known annabeth, she’s seldom been wrong, but he doesn’t think this is the best idea. but, percy trusts annabeth, so he agrees.

iv. this is how we do it - montell jordan

percy’s spying on you. well, he doesn’t consider it to be spying exactly, he’s just making sure nothing happens to you because despite annabeth’s constant defense of her brother, percy still doesn’t trust luke. percy’s always thought of you more than just his babysitter, after all the attempts at making blue hot chocolate and the comforting after nightmares, you’ve turned into his sister. 

he’s at annabeth’s place now, and both of them decided to put their — what annabeth swears is fool-proof — plan into action. step number one: getting luke to invite you inside when you come to pick him up (which was so unbelievably easy, considering how luke has perpetual heart eyes when you’re around).

currently, you’re in the kitchen with luke (the two of you are always congregating in kitchens for some reason), and annabeth decided that she and percy absolutely had to keep an eye on the two of you.

you’re gasping, “luke castellan, you are such a liar.”

luke is laughing, “no i’m not.” his cheeks are red.

you’ve seemed to notice this, and percy can see your gaze soften as you look at luke, but that doesn’t stop you from making your point, “no, oh my god, you call me the mean one but here you are, talking shit about your rivals, just because they’re better?”

percy has seen you argue with your ex-boyfriends, but not like this — not bright-eyed, and smiling, and none of them have been able to just flow the way you seem to with luke. this is it, he thinks, annabeth was completely and utterly right (as she is 90% of the time). 

“you take that back right now, those motley crue knockoffs aren’t better than us,” luke says, sounding kind of angry, but percy can see his smile.

“you’re totally bugging,” you say, “what’s wrong with motley crue?”

luke looks scandalized, and almost as if he’s pleading, he says, “please tell me you’ve at least listened to guns n roses,” pushing his hands together in a namaste position.

“i don’t live under a rock, castellan,” you rolled your eyes at him, pushing his hands down. annabeth shares a look with percy.

“i mean, you never know,” he says, and you scoff, shoving him.

percy raises his eyebrows at annabeth, and she seems to know exactly what he’s thinking — time to put step two into action: set up a going-out idea.

percy and annabeth pretend to walk closer to the kitchen, to give the two of you time to spring apart, because you and luke weren’t a very pg distance right now — maybe pg-thirteen, but percy wasn’t supposed to be watching those, so.

annabeth jerks a finger at percy, as you and luke looked up at their arrival, addressing luke, “percy doesn’t believe that your band actually plays in public.”

percy’s head whips toward annabeth, trying not to glare at her, because the look on luke’s face right now was not at all amusing, but at least you were smiling, so you’d definitely stop luke from killing him.

“yeah, luke,” you say, smirking, “where do you guys even play?”

luke frowns, “the usual but we’re playing at the fair next week if you’re so interested.” the last part is aimed at percy, but their plan is going well so far, so percy doesn’t think he’ll have to sleep with one eye open tonight.

“when?” you ask, interested.

percy watches luke turn to you, surprised. “saturday — why, you wanna come?”

“yeah,” you admit easily.

percy looks at annabeth, who’s smiling and percy can’t help but feel proud of their idea.

“really? we don’t go on until like seven though.”

“yeah, someone has to be there to cheer for you so you don’t feel too bad when no one else does,” you grin.

luke turns to you, masking his smile with a fake air of irritation, “gee, thanks.”

“what are friends for?”

percy shares a disappointed glance with annabeth who begins to shake her head, as luke’s smile freezes in place, and you suddenly look extremely remorseful.

time to come up with a new plan. 

© sayoneee on tumblr. do not repost, plagiarize, translate or claim any of my works as your own.

[impala-dreamer]

Before The First Light

A Supernatural Story

~ With Michael pounding away in his head, ready to break free at any moment, Dean realizes he has no other choice but to do what Billie says and lock himself away forever. He hadn't planned on telling her, hadn't planned on a goodbye, but Y/N wouldn't let him leave without one more night...~

Dean Winchester x Reader, Sam Winchester

3,126 Words

Warnings: Angsty Angst. Kissy Kiss. Saddy Sad. 

A/N: This was a commission and I def made myself cry a bit. Please give it a reblog if you read it <3 

Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist  ~  Patreon  ~ Published Works

She wasn’t quite sure she’d heard properly.

Something about a box and being buried in the deepest part of the ocean. Something about Dean locking himself away for all eternity to ensure that Michael stayed captive. Something about choosing everlasting torment instead of fighting, instead of looking for an answer. Something about leaving them all alone, leaving her alone.

When Mary called, Y/N hadn’t been far. She had been ‘borrowing’ a text from the library at Luther Seminary in St. Paul, something old and illustrated in gold foil. A book that Castiel thought would help. As soon as she heard the worry in Mary’s voice, she pointed her little Toyota towards Hibbings and pushed the gas pedal to the floorboard.

She stood now, silently staring into the barn; her small frame illuminated by the glow of sunset behind her. Sam and Dean were arguing, standing on either side of a large metal coffin. It was crudely made and inlaid with hand-formed sigils. The bitter scent of fading gas and burning metal hung in the air. The struggle in both of their tones struck her first; their words only becoming clear after the shock settled.

He had found a way to lock Michael away forever.

Moreover, he’d found a way to kill himself without actually doing it.

Y/N held her breath and clutched the doorframe. She knew if she moved, she’d fall; if she spoke, she’d break down.

“I won’t be talked out of this! I won’t…”

Dean’s voice hit her like a truck. Her chest ached and her stomach churned. She exhaled and bit back a cry.

Amazingly, Sam was silent. She could only see his back, but his tiny movements made it clear that he was unhappy but stuck between a mountain and a hard place.

“I’m doing this. Now, you could either let me do it alone,” Dean said, dropping the frustration and pleading with his brother. “Or… you could help me.”

She wanted to scream. At Dean or Sam, she couldn’t work out, but something needed to be said. Something needed to be done to stop him, change his mind, and slap some sense back into him.

“...But I’m doin’ this.”

Still, Sam was silent.

Y/N watched from the gap in the wooden door, awed by the way Sam seemed to give in. He shook his head slightly, looked away, and then back. He took a breath, his shoulders rising and falling as the decision formed in his mind.

“Alright.” His whisper was pained and Dean closed his eyes, letting go of a heavy sigh.

Y/N snapped.

She yanked open the door and glared at the Winchester idiots. She was shaking; blood rushing in her ears like a jet engine. With a quivering lip, she let out a roar twice the size of her petite frame.

“Alright?!”

Sam was startled, all but jumping out of his skin.

“What the fuck do you mean, alright?”

Dean seemed to curl in on himself. He hadn’t expected to see her, hadn’t even wanted to tell her what he had planned. He looked at her, sadness spread across his handsome face. “Y/N-”

She trembled in the doorway, her hair wild and glowing with the golden dregs of dusk. Her faith darkened like the sky.

“What is wrong with you!”

Sam turned to face her with wet eyes and a hopeless expression. “Y/N, it’s not-”

She took a step inside, body propelled forward as if it meant to strike them both down. “Don’t you dare say it’s not what I think. I know exactly what the fuck this is, Sam!”

She looked at Dean. His eyes were dry but tired. She knew how exhausted he was, how hard the last year had been for him. The possession, the release, the back and forth, and now- Michael pounding away in his skull like a thousand battering rams. Her heart broke for him and yet, she couldn’t hold back. “How could you?”

Her voice came out like a sick whisper, full of spears, aiming at the very core of him.

He flinched. He shook his head gently, unsure of how to tell her all the things he needed to. He wasn’t prepared for this, wasn’t ready - or willing - to say goodbye to her.

“How?” she asked again, tears breaking free and spilling down her face. They glistened in the final rays of sunset while she waited for an answer.

Dean looked down at the box. He ran his fingertips over the top and closed his eyes. The first task was done and he was resolved to see it through to the next. He just had to keep himself from cracking, from splitting open as he looked at his brother and his love. He had to steel his heart, and stay the course.

His hand curled into a fist.

“I’m sorry.”

He couldn’t look up at her, couldn’t manage more than a meager, breathy reply.

She laughed. It wasn’t funny, but she laughed. “You’re sorry?” Her hand fell from the splintered wood. “You’re sorry. You’re gonna do this and you’re sorry. We have watch you try to kill yourself - again - and you’re sorry.”

Again, his lips parted but nothing came out. There was no defense he could give, no reasoning that would make her OK with any of it.

Y/N grit her teeth, dug her heels into the creaky wood floor. She waited, silently begging him to say something- anything.

He looked up at her through thick lashes, his chin dipped low and his hands stuck on the lid of the coffin.

Anger and fear stormed in her chest and she shook her head, giving up.

She met Dean’s eye and frowned. “Fuck you.”

He didn’t even react. He knew he deserved it.

She turned to leave and Sam spoke up, his voice crackling with his own frustration and pain.

“Y/N, wait-”

Her head snapped back and she glared over her shoulder at him. “Oh. And fuck you too, Sam. Goddamn coward.”

The driveway was made of loose gravel and the month had been dry. Dust billowed under her sneakers as she ran from the barn, from reality, from him. She wasn’t really leaving- she’d never be able to fully walk away from him- but she knew if she stayed in that barn, she’d end up burning it down.

She heard him following. The rocks crunched under his boots and his breath was heavy. Crying while running wasn’t good for him.

She stopped a few feet from his car.

That goddamned Impala and the man driving it had changed her entire life, and she wasn’t about to change it again. Not this way. Not by losing him to a fucking box.

Dean caught up but she moved again before he could reach for her. His hand fell in the space she created between them.

“Can we talk about this?” he asked, voice gritty and low.

Y/N dropped her head and kicked at the gravel. “I don’t know, Dean. Can we?”

He took a step closer. “I want to.”

Spinning to look at him, she crossed her arms over her chest, symbolically keeping him away.

He was silent for a moment, unable to begin or even decide where to.

Y/N clicked her tongue in annoyance. “Well?”

Dean dropped his head. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t do that. Don’t start that crap with me.”

“What crap?”

She sighed. “That puppy-dog, teary-eyed, apology crap. I don’t want it. It’s bullshit.”

He tensed. “It’s not bullshit.”

“If you’re sorry then why go through with it?”

Dean looked away and caught his breath. “You overheard us in there. You know why.”

“No.” She dropped her hands to her sides. “I want to hear it from you. I want to hear that you think the only way to save everyone- like always- is to sacrifice yourself.”

Frustration curled up his spine and Dean grit his teeth. “You can’t- it’s not that fucking simple, and you know it.”

“Oh?” She stood back and clenched invisible pearls at her throat. The fight was brewing, hot and fast. “Please, Dean, tell me what I know.”

His lips hung open slightly as he thought better of speaking and making things worse.

“Allow me,” she snapped. “I know that you’re always right and I’m just some nerdy, useless book worm that you keep around to keep Sam occupied when you don’t wanna do any work.” Her voice grew loud, her words clipped and harsh. Her hands flailed in the air between them. “I know that you’re this old, experienced man and I’m some idiot little girl who doesn’t know shit about shit. I know I’m just a fucking bootycall that happens to occupy a room near yours.”

He flinched with every word. Slow, unrelenting tears streaked down his stubbled cheek. She didn’t want to see them, didn’t want to watch the salt water leak down and disappear into the dust and rock beneath their feet. She didn’t want to feel sorry for him; didn’t want to let go of her anger.

She couldn’t ignore it, couldn’t see past the redness in his eyes, the way his lips turned downward.

Her heart broke again and again with each breath and every tear that fell.

“I know that… you’re going to fucking kill yourself because you think you’re weak.” Her volume fell, her voice cracked. “You think you’re going to fail and the world will end.”

Dean closed his eyes tight.

“You think that everything that goes bad in this world is your fault.”

He pulled in a shaky breath.

“You feed on guilt, Dean. You drown in it.”

Green eyes opened, found hers in the dim light.

“You don’t have to.”

“I do.”

His confession was barely a whisper, floating towards her like a lost feather. He was sad but resolute, unyielding in his plans.

She took a step closer, bent her ear his way. “What?”

“Guilt,” he echoed. “I do have to live with it. Because it’s mine. I did this, and I’m the only one who can stop Michael from breaking free.”

Y/N shook her head. “Why? Why like this? Because some fucking reaper who has been Death for all of five minutes says you have to? Why would you trust her?”

Dean laughed bitterly and swatted at the wetness on his cheek. “Why would she lie?”

“Why wouldn’t she lie?”

He turned away but Y/N grabbed the open flap of his flannel.

“Hey! Don’t fucking do that. Don’t walk away. Not this time.”

Dean exhaled hard and came back to face her. He closed a hand around hers, keeping her fingers locked around his shirt, not letting her go.

“I have to do this. I have to. And if you can’t understand that, then-” He shrugged. “Then I don’t know what else to say.”

Y/N bit her lip and nodded as she looked down at the ground. Night had fallen while they quarreled and the only light around them was the yellow glow coming from the house. Sam had shut the light in the barn when he left, giving them time alone to do what needed to be done.

When she looked back up, she was crying. Heavy, hot tears lined her eyes, and Dean sucked in a quick breath at the sight.

“I can’t let you do this,” she whispered.

“You’re not letting me do it,” he said softly, squeezing her hand. “I… I don’t care if you like it, or you agree with it. It has to happen. It will happen.”

Her lip trembled. She shook her head. “No…”

“Yes.” He went on, speaking slowly without a hint of indecision in his tone. “It will. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I’m sorry you had to find out like this. I should have been better to you. To Sam. I… I should have been better at everything. I should have been stronger. But this is what it is.”

Y/N grasped for any new idea, anything she could say to keep him with her. “What if we find something, what if Rowena… or Cas-”

“They’ve looked.”

She thrashed against him, trying to rip her hand away. “What if we find something and we can’t get you out! You’ll be trapped and we can’t get you out!” She pelted his chest with her fist, desperate to make him listen. “What if Chuck comes back and-”

“Stop it, Y/N.”

“What if he comes back and can fix it again like with Amara! He could do that!”

He grabbed her other hand, halting her attack.

“Stop it,” he breathed, trying not to hurt her. “Y/N, listen to me.”

“You’re the one not listening! Dean!”

She tugged her arms back, but he held her tight, dragged her closer.

“Why would you do this?” she sobbed, twisting in his grasp. Her wrists burned but she struggled all the same. “Why! You can’t! You can’t leave us!”

Lost and exhausted, Dean dropped her hands and grabbed her shoulders, pulling her against his chest. He locked his arms around her back, crushed her into his warmth, refusing to budge or let her loose.

“Shh…”

He kissed the top of her head.

“Shh… please…”

He rocked slowly side to side, soothing her as she splintered like a tree struck by lightning.

“Dean-”

“I know.” He kissed her again and loosened his grip. “I know.”

She pulled back and stared up at him, unable to speak, unable to think. The whole world was shattering around her and all she could see was him.

Tiny hands moved up his chest, clawing at the buttons, bunching up the black tee beneath.

“Dean…”

He felt the touch like the strike of a match and bent to kiss her lips.

She breathed into him and then pulled the air right back. She wanted the oxygen they needed to be the same; wanted a moment of connection before he was gone forever.

Dean needed it too. He came alive as his hands roamed her body. He dug his fingertips into soft flesh, pawed at her breasts, licked deep into her mouth.

Y/N backed up as he advanced and leaned on the cold metal of the Impala. Dean caught up quickly and tore at the thin shirt that covered her. She tugged it away; tossed it into the dirt.

“Please don’t leave me,” she whispered as he lifted her up, her lips shoved against his ear. “You can’t…”

Dean moaned as she spread her legs and let him slide between. She kissed every inch of his face, every freckle that she could see. He melted into her; fire and ice, anguish and lust fighting inside of him.

She licked at his lips; he snuck his hand into her jeans.

She nibbled at his ear; he moaned and rocked against her.

She clung to him like letting go would kill her.

He memorized her body so he could carry the touch with him until the end of time.

“We should go inside,” he croaked, breaking away enough to look down into her beautiful eyes. Strands of hair fell into her eyes and he swept it away. “It’s getting cold.”

Y/N dropped her hand down his body, her eyes following suit. “Don’t want to,” she confessed, her voice deeper and tinged with goodbye. “Not yet.”

Dean sighed, his soul heavy, his mind a mess. He cupped her face, holding her between his big, warm hands. “What am I gonna do with you?”

He’d asked it a thousand times before in jest, but this time it felt different. This time it hurt.

Hooking two fingers behind his belt, she tugged him forward an inch. There was hardly any space between them, but she needed what was there to shrink away.

“You can give me tonight,” she said sadly. “You can give me one last night before you go.”

He kissed away the tear that slid down her cheek.

“OK.”

The backdoor creaked open like it always did; the springs in the back squeaked when he lay down.

Y/N stood in the open air, stripping slowly while he watched from inside. Head propped up against the window and long legs stretched out over the bench seat, he stared at her silhouette. Haloed by the soft glow from the house, she looked like an angel- soft and beautiful and so perfectly made for him that his heart ached.

He reached for her and she slipped inside, climbing onto the worn leather and closing the door behind her. She sat on his thighs with her bottom lip snagged between her teeth and her hands on his stomach.

“You can still change your mind, ya know.”

Dean lay his hands on her legs and caressed the soft flesh of her inner thighs with his thumbs. He was unblinking, unyielding; certain.

“I won’t.”

Y/N nodded gently before falling down to kiss him again. If this was it, then she wanted to remember every second. No more talking, no more tears. Nothing but hungry lips and searching hearts, Dean and the rising moon.

It was cold in the car but they kept warm. They slept in each other’s arms, just a simple roll over from falling off the seat. Dean held her close and Y/N counted each beat of his heart. She realized sadly that one day her own heart would stop and his would still be going, kept alive for eternity by the Archangel trapped inside. She would be dead and Dean would live on and on forever, locked in torment until the universe collapsed and reality disintegrated, and maybe not even then would he be allowed to rest. Michael could keep him as long as he wanted, perpetually frozen in time even as time wore on.

She’d be dust and he’d be flesh and blood.

She’d be a memory and he’d be in his self-made hell.

He was sleeping so soundly, she didn’t want to move, but she had to go. There was a pain in her chest that expanded with each breath, a hole inside that grew with every second that she stared at him.

Carefully, she slid from his arms and out into the morning air. She gathered her clothes and grabbed the keys to her little Toyota.

She glanced back at the house, at the barn housing Dean’s final resting place. Sam would help him, she was sure. Mary would talk some sense into him. But she couldn’t stay. She couldn’t watch him go, couldn’t bear to see tail lights fade into the horizon.

The sky was changing: black to indigo and on to pink.

Y/N backed down the gravel driveway and was gone before the first light.

[alisonsfics]

roommate’s best friend part two

pairing: calum hood x ashton’sroommate!reader

summary: after your make out session with calum was interrupted by ashton, you were both very excited to spend more time together at a 5sos gig. (part one)

word count: 2.7k

warnings: unprotected sex, public-ish sex (it’s backstage), tiny praise kink, minors DNI

You were planning to see Calum tonight for the first time after your little make out that was interrupted by Ashton.

You both had planned to have a little date night at Calum’s apartment, where you couldn’t be interrupted by Ashton. Before you could leave, you and Ashton had a plumbing emergency that kept you both at your apartment.

When you called to tell Calum that you couldn’t make it, he practically begged you to let him sneak over just to be with you for a little bit. You knew it would just end with Ashton accidentally seeing something he shouldn’t, and you couldn’t handle that embarrassment again.

Calum and Ashton had both invited you to a gig that the band was having tonight, so you would finally get to see Calum.

You were in the middle of picking out your outfit, obviously wanting to look nice to impress Calum.

“Oh, is somebody getting ready to see her boyfriend tonight?” Ashton teased you from your open doorway. You turned to face him and saw the smirk on his face. “C’mon, Ash, we can’t just be adults?” You pleaded. He chuckled and shook his head. “I caught you hooking up with my best friend. It’s a perfect opportunity for teasing, I can’t waste it.” He told you.

Ashton stepped towards you and held out a lanyard. “Wear this and security will let you in tonight. I’m about to head out, I’ll see you later.” He told you. You took the lanyard from him and said goodbye to him.

A few hours later, you were on your way to the concert, and you had butterflies in your stomach as you thought about seeing Calum.

You had picked out some leather pants and a red lace top that you were hoping Calum would like.

You got to the venue and security let you in quickly after seeing your badge. A security guard led you back to where the guys were hanging out. “They were in the lounge last time I checked, but if they’re not there, I’ll bring you to their dressing rooms.” The security guard told you.

You approached the room and saw a few couches sprawled around the room and a minibar against the wall.

You saw someone sitting on the couch on their phone. You recognized him as Luke from Ashton’s Instagram posts. “Here you go,” the security guard said, gesturing towards the room and then leaving.

“Hi, I’m Luke,” he said, jumping up to greet you. You quickly shook his hand and introduced yourself to him.

“Ashton just ran to the bathroom, he’ll be back soon.” Luke informed you. You nodded your head. “I’m really excited to see the show tonight. I got to go to one of your shows before, and I had a great time.” You told him.

“Oh thank you, yeah tonight should be good.” He agreed. You both heard footsteps and turned to see Calum walk into the room.

His eyes scanned over your outfit slowly, taking it all in. “Hi, there,” he said, softly. You gave him a smile as he walked over to you. “C’mon, Cal, give her a hug.” Luke said, teasing Calum for how stunned and speechless he was.

You giggled at Calum’s flustered expression. “Wait, but how do you—” Calum started to ask Luke.

“You really think Ashton was able to keep you guys and your thing a secret?” Luke said, chuckling.

Luke made sure not to stare so he wouldn’t make you both uncomfortable. “Hi,” you said, softly. He stepped closer to you and wrapped his arms around your waist. “You look beautiful.” He whispered as he pressed a kiss to your temple.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, holding onto him tightly. The scent of his cologne filled your lungs. You both pulled away, not knowing what to say to each other with Luke in the room.

“So, you two met already?” Calum asked, gesturing towards you and Luke. You both nodded. Then, Ashton and Michael walked in the room.

“Hey,” Ashton said, smiling once he saw you. He walked over and gave you a hug. He turned around to gesture towards Michael and introduced the two of you.

You noticed Ashton walking over to Calum, probably to tease him in some way, so you started talking to Luke and Michael. You were telling them about the first show of theirs you had gone to.

You were trying your best to make a good first impression, considering you’d probably be spending a lot more time with them.

You felt Calum’s hand slip around your waist, and he brought his lips to your ear. “Can I get you a drink?” He whispered in your ear, keeping his tight grip on your hip. You nodded your head, “yes please,” you said.

He walked away to get you a drink. Ashton joined your group and was smirking at you. “Don’t you even,” you said, stopping him before he could make a comment.

“I wasn’t going to say anything,” Ashton lied through his teeth. Luke and Michael chuckled at his horrible poker face. “I’m trying to make a nice first impression with your friends, and you just can’t stop yourself.” You said.

“You made a pretty good first impression with Calum,” Michael muttered under his breath, trying not to laugh. You were too stunned to speak. You sat there with your mouth open as the three of them started cracking up. “All three of you now?” You asked.

Calum appeared at your side with two drinks, handing one to you. “Yeah, she did make a pretty good impression, y’know until Ashton ruined it.” Calum said, winking at you.

You slipped your arm around Calum’s back and leaned into him. “You both are pretty cute together actually” Ashton said, making your cheeks heat up.

“Hey guys, you got like five minutes til you need to be on stage.” Someone said, as they walked in the room. You looked over your shoulder and saw someone who looked like their manager.

“C’mon,” Calum said, interlacing your fingers and pulling you behind him. You followed him to the side of the stage. You both set down your drinks and one of the crew members handed Calum his bass.

You gave Calum a kiss on the cheek. “Have a good show,” you told him. He thanked you and gave your hand a quick squeeze. The other three guys started to walk on stage, but Calum stopped.

He held up two fingers and beckoned you closer to him. He quickly cupped your face and kissed you. You were surprised by the kiss, but kissed him back.

“Gotta get my good luck kiss,” he said, before running out on stage.

You got to watch the whole show from the side of stage and had the best time. Calum even looked over at you a few times and winked at you once.

As the show ended, you cheered for the guys, and they took their bow. The guys filed off the stage past you, giving you high-fives as they went by.

Calum came off the stage last with a giant smile on his face. He handed off his bass and then grabbed your hand. He started pulling you down the hallway.

“Calum, where are we going?” You asked him. He didn’t answer your question, but continued pulling you behind him. You both got to his dressing room door and he pushed the door open.

Before you knew it, he had pulled you both inside and closed the door. He pinned you to the back of the door. “You remember when we talked about you fucking that bassist in his dressing room?” He asked you, his mouth almost pressed up to your ear.

You nodded your head. “Yeah, I remember,” you said, breathlessly. Calum’s entire chest was pressed up against you, and you were finding it hard to focus.

“Well that bassist really likes your outfit and got really turned on seeing you on the side of the stage, so if you were still okay with that plan,” he said, practically growling.

“Yes, yes, just touch me, Cal,” you begged him. As soon as the words left your mouth, Calum’s lips were on yours. His lips moved quickly against yours.

He grabbed at the back of your thighs and picked you up against the door. “No one to interrupt us this time,” he said, smirking against your lips.

You raked your fingers through his hair, causing him to groan. He planted his lips on the side of your neck and started slowly sucking on your skin.

You tried to silence the moan that fell from your lips. “Don’t hold back, let me hear you.” He coached you.

He pulled you away from the door and laid you down on the couch. “You look so gorgeous,” he said, in awe as he looked at you.

You pulled him towards you and tugged at the bottom of his shirt. He quickly pulled it over his head and threw it to the side. “C’mere, rockstar, can’t wait,” you said, pulling Calum on top of you. Hearing you call him “rockstar” turned Calum on more than he would ever admit.

His hands slipped under your shirt and traced your sides, caressing your skin. “Help me take it off,” you said, putting your hands up and allowing Calum to pull your shirt up over your head.

“So gorgeous,” he mumbled as he quickly got rid of both of your pants. He grabbed your legs and wrapped them around his waist. You cupped his face and kissed him hard.

Having Calum’s hands on you made you feel like your skin was on fire in the best way. A moan slipped out of you as Calum rocked his hips against yours. “Please, Cal,” you begged.

“Please what, sweetheart?” He asked, placing kisses along your jaw. You groaned, twisting his hair around your fingers.

“Please, fuck me,” you told him.

He pulled down your panties and carelessly threw them to the side. “You know that when Ashton showed us a picture of his roommate, I think I fell in love with you right then, most gorgeous girl I’ve ever seen.” He told you, placing a kiss to your forehead.

“You look so hot on top of me, like this.” You said, as he slipped out of his boxers.

He grabbed your hips with his large hands to steady himself. “You ready?” He asked, meeting your gaze. You nodded your head quickly.

He slowly pushed his length into you. You clawed at his back as you adjusted to his size. He stayed still, buried inside you, for a while. He peppered soft kisses on your shoulder as he waited for you.

“Keep going, I’m okay,” you assured him. With one final kiss on your lips, he pulled himself out and started thrusting into you.

Calum’s eyebrows were furrowed in concentration as his hips hit against yours. You let your eyes roll back as you grabbed at the couch, desperate to find something to hold on to.

“Here,” Calum said, grabbing both your hands and pinning them above your head. You let out a whimper as you felt the strong grip of his hand on your wrists.

“Let me do all the work, just focus on feeling good,” he instructed you. He placed sloppy, wet kisses down your chest, using his free hand to caress your breast.

“So good, Cal. Just like I imagined,” you mumbled, your eyes still shut. You noticed a break in Calum’s rhythm. You opened your eyes and noticed he was just looking at you as he continued to push his hips into yours.

“You were imagining this, baby?” He asked you, curiously. You felt your cheeks heat up in embarrassment, both from the pet name he’d just used and what you had just admitted.

“Don’t be embarrassed, what were you thinking about?” He asked, turned on by the possibility of your fantasies. You hid your face in the crook of his neck. He peppered kisses all around your face, hoping to get you to open up.

It was ironic. His cock was deep inside you, but you could barely bring yourself to meet his gaze.

“I saw pictures you posted from tour, and I thought about what it’d be like to go on tour with you. We’d travel around together, and I’d know all the fans you met were imagining you the way that only I would get to see you. And I thought about what it’d be like to ride you.” You confessed.

A groan fell from Calum’s lips after hearing the words leave your mouth. “That’s really hot, gorgeous.” He told you, moving his grip to your hips.

He reached deeper inside of you and hit your g-spot. “Oh, fuck, Calum,” you moaned.

“Y’know, we could make those fantasies happen if you want. We could at least do that last one tonight.” He told you, making your cheeks heat up even more.

“C’mere, honey,” he said, holding onto you and sitting up so you were straddling him.

He kissed you to make you more comfortable. “I’ll help you,” he mumbled against your lips. He grabbed your hips and lifted you up. You started rolling your hips against his.

“Oh, fuck, baby. You look so good on top of me.” He moaned, throwing his head back. He pushed his hips forward, meeting yours halfway.

Your thrusts started to become more rushed as you got closer to your high. “I’m almost there, Cal,” you mumbled, grabbing his shoulders to steady yourself.

“Me too, baby,” he told you. You both quickened your pace. You arched your back as you started to feel it approaching. You both were breathing heavily.

You were mesmerized watching how quickly Calum’s chest was rising and falling.

“Oh, fuck, Calum,” you called out, as your orgasm hit you. He wasn’t far behind you. “Oh, shit,” he mumbled, his thrusts beginning to falter.

He slowed down his pace, slowly thrusting up into you to help you both come down from your highs.

You collapsed against his chest, resting your head on his shoulder. “That was amazing,” you mumbled against his skin. He chuckled at your exhaustion. “You did amazing, baby,” he said, kissing the side of your neck.

He ran his fingers up and down your back as you caught your breath.

Once you finally got up, you both got dressed again and headed to Ashton’s dressing room, where Calum was told the guys were hanging out.

“Look who finally decided to join us,” Michael said, smirking at Calum as you both entered the room. All three guys were in the room, along with their significant others. Luke handed both you and Calum a drink.

“You both finally sort out that sexual tension?” Ashton asked, causing you to choke on your drink. Your eyes darted to Calum for help.

He leaned in to whisper in your ear, “I may have left you a little present on accident,” referencing the hickey on your neck.

“Calum,” you whined, dragging out his name and trying to cover your neck with your hand. This earned a chuckle from the group.

“C’mere,” he said, pulling you into his chest and wrapping his arms around your shoulders.

“I’m going to have so much fun teasing the two of you,” Ashton said, chuckling to himself.

“Don’t worry, we won’t all be teasing you. Not yet, at least” Luke promised you both. You let out a small giggle. “That felt a lot less comforting than I think it was intended to be.” You replied, earning a laugh from Calum.

He slipped his hand in the back pocket of your pants, keeping you next to him.

“So, Ashton mentioned that you guys were planning to set us up anyway. How was that going to go down?” You asked, curiously.

“Well the girls had to talk down Ashton because he was ready to steal Calum’s phone and send you some raunchy messages, and Calum would have killed him. Michael and I suggested a blind date, but Ashton wasn’t going to settle for that. He suggested that we lock you both in a room together and just wait it out.” Luke explained to you.

“Your great matchmaking plan was to hold us hostage?” Calum asked Ashton, exasperated.

“Oh, come on. Don’t tell me it wouldn’t work, neither of you can keep your hands off each other.” Ashton argued.

“That’s true.” Calum said, smiling down at you.

taglist: @laurakirsten0502 @miraclesoflove @nathaliabakes @millipop18 @azghedaheda @shyinadarkplace @vanteguccir @missroro @guacam011y @sw33t-cupid @ice-dtae @leyannrae @sia2raw @nyx2021 @just-a-littlebit-of-everything @shyconversationalbookworm @shadowhuntyi @visenyaverse @ruzannetheseahorse @superdeath @wandaswifeyforlifey @spookyqueen @mcuswhore @bookwormchick91 @princess-evans-addict @n3ssm0nique @peakascum @cjand10 @namsey1987 @multitargaryen @stephv213 @impossibleapricotlampbat @lickmymelaninn @holding-on-to-my-youth @spiderstyles04 @ahoodgirl

Let me know if you want to be added to my taglist for all my imagines or for a specific character/fandom!!

[bwat5-blog]

Come Marching Home: Arcane Fanfic

**Canon Divergent One Shot*

Three months after the Battle Of Piltover, Vi, Caitlyn Kiramman and Tobias Kiramman stand in the ruin of the upper hex gate, the wind whistling outside...

Vi walks forward, slowly, hands on the safety railing that been installed looking over into the void.. where her sister had fallen.. her breathing speeds up, her hands hurt.

"It's okay Violet, just breathe slowly" Caitlyn's soft voice from behind her as her hands lay over Vi's bone-white knuckles. Vi exhales slowly..

"Are you sure you are up for this?" Caitlyn asks cautiously but Vi nods. "I haven't... I haven't been able to say goodbye to them.. I need to say something.." Vi wipes a tear away quickly and turns, her lip shaking, trying to hide it.

"None of that my love" Caitlyn takes her and kisses her forehead gently. "Feel whatever you need to feel, that's why we are here with you" she whispers softly.

Vi nods, smiling weakly "thanks... Cupcake" and turns to Tobias who is standing nearby, stoic, dressed in his full noble attire. Vi had been surprised when Tobias wanted to come. They had grown close since the battle for which she was very grateful but ... Jinx did what she did.

Vi locks eyes with Caitlyn one more time for support and walks out onto the walkway.. the same where she had laid after Jinx deactivated the gauntlet.. her stomach churns... the wind gently howls outside.

Vi clears her throat, eyes already wet.. "Dad... I.. I don't know how much you were aware of that day.. if any.. but I want you to know I know it wasn't you.. I know you would never hurt us.. hurt me.." Vi's chest clenched and her eyes burn "I miss you... and I'm so fucking sorry we didn't get more time with you" Vi chokes down a sob and masters her breathing..

"Jinx... I wish I could tell you what that name has come to mean to me now.. what I wouldn't give to call you by it one more time so you could hear it with love.. I.. I'm sorry I needed you to save me that day.. it feels like we just found each other again and then I lost you all over again and fuck it hurts"

Vi drops to her knees sobbing as Caitlyn rushes out onto the platform enveloping her in her arms, crying herself "it's okay Vi.. it's okay my love just breathe" Caitlyn kisses Vi's mop of fiery hair in agony over Vi's pain..

Steps... slow and firm.. Caitlyn looks up to see her father looking down at them, his eyes full of love and sorrow. Kneeling down to Vi he places a gently hand on her shoulder "Violet... in my country.. where I grew up.. there was song we would sing for the departed.. with your permission.. may I do so for your family?"

Vi looked at him in genuine shock but nodded smiling weakly, still crying "I..I'd like that.."

Caitlyn held tight to Vi as her father walked right to the edge of the platform, her own heart tight in her chest. Her father had a voice that filled your heart, but she hadn't heard it since her mother's death.. She and Vi hold each other as Tobias's deep and warm voice fills the air, echoing through the chamber.

"Leaves from the vine.. falling so slow, like fragile, tiny shells.. drifting in the foam.. little, soldier boy.. come marching home. Brave little soldier boy.. comes marching home".....

Tobias returned to them, tears on all three faces and embraced them tightly. "Come, my daughters. Let me get you home".

______________________________________________________________

Just another quick one-shot idea I wanted to put down. If any writer with any actual talented wants to flesh any of these out that would be great because I am for sure not it!

**All credit for song to Avatar The Last Airbender/Michael Dante Dimartino and Jeremy Zuckerman**

[crackedpumpkin]

ʙʟᴀɴᴋ ᴄᴀɴᴠᴀꜱ || ᴘᴀʀᴛ ɴɪɴᴇ ||

A/N: holy shit guys look its an update omg

[ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 ] | [ 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ] | [ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ]

The bed is cold. Your phone sits on the nightstand just right next to it, its usual buzz absent. The sun is slowly rising, its gold-dipped rays slowly but surely shining through the open window of your room. 

You, however, are in the kitchen with your mother who’s fussing over the table filled with numerous potted plants of different sizes. Some almost slapped you in the face with their leaves, while some were the size of your hand. Having walked into this mess first thing in the morning is not the way you expected to start your day. 

“Tell me where you got these from again?” You push away a leaf that nearly pokes you in the eye, glaring at the plant. The audacity. You’re lucky that my mom’s here, or I’d leave you out in the street.

Your mother rolls her eyes with an exasperated sigh, a hand propped on her hip as she waters them. “It just slipped my mind that the delivery is coming today. Besides, I only ordered one. I don’t know how they delivered eleven. You should give some to your friends! It’s good feng shui.” She nods knowingly.

“They don’t believe in that stuff.” 

She shakes her head disapprovingly, moving some of the pots to the end of the dining table. “Oh? Do they open their umbrellas indoors too? Do they cut their toenails at night?”

“Only Michael from what I remember.” You recall, shuddering at the tiny detail your brain retained from the first day of school. 

“Don’t you have school today?” She asks as if only just remembering that her daughter is still a student. “What’re you still doing here? Go, go, go!”

“Calm down dude, we have a late day today. Only gotta be at school by eleven instead of eight.” You laugh, backing away slowly when she narrows her eyes at you. 

“I am not your ‘dude’, I’m your mother, young lady. Where did you learn how to be so impolite to your elders…” She sighs, shaking her head. 

“Jake taught me.” The mere mention of your brother’s name is enough to kill the easygoing atmosphere in the kitchen. You see her shoulders stiffen, though she pretends to continue organising the eleven potted plants. 

“Go take a shower, and get some breakfast outside. I haven’t gone grocery shopping yet.” Pretending that everything is okay is usually your parent’s default response, you’re not surprised by this in the least. 

“Sure,” You say breezily, making your way to the bathroom and swallowing the small lump in your throat. After emerging from your room and determining if you look presentable enough to be around society, you grab your bag and head to the door. 

On your way out, something catches your eye. You pause, eyeing the tiny bamboo succulent sitting on the dining table. “I’m taking this.” She nods in reply, too preoccupied with making a list of groceries to wave goodbye. 

"Peace offering," you murmur to yourself, a half-smile playing on your lips as you glance at the bamboo. The apartment door clicks shut behind you, leaving the atmosphere inside to the grocery list and the lingering traces of unresolved emotions.

Your pocket rustles as you move, shoving a hand in to take out the contract you had stuffed inside earlier. Staring down at the paper that pretty much holds both you and Miles together heightens your guilt for lying to him. 

Sure, maybe lying about your name isn’t a big deal to many, but he’d begun to actually bond with you -  you can tell that much. Furthermore, you’d mostly forgotten about the contract in hanging out with him during your sketching sessions, and it’d become almost a habit to refer to him as a friend in your mind.

But the betrayal on his face that day is more than enough to make you regret everything. Now though, is a chance to make it up to him. To apologise, and to make things right. That’s why you brought the contract along. You have to show him that you’re not a bad person. That you’re sorry.

And to do that, an olive branch is necessary in the form of caffeine. 

You pull out your phone and begin to text him. 

abuelita [ 10:15 AM ]: heya

abuelita [ 10:15 AM ]: are you free today? i have something to pass you

bug [ 10:30 AM ]: i have a couple mins after my evening patrol. 

bug [ 10:30 AM ]: ill be at the lion building rooftop

The rest of school fills you with nothing but nerves, anticipating your meetup with Miles. Even a study session at the library turns out to be unfruitful, to no one’s surprise. Nicole and Michael were initially concerned, but after a simple excuse of being on your period is made, no one else questions your mood.

You make your way to the meeting point, a coffee cup in hand. The hot liquid inside warms your hands in the cool evening breeze. It's a feeble attempt at mending the rift, a different kind of peace offering. The bamboo succulent rests in your hands, now neatly placed in a box. The lift doors open, revealing a lone unmasked superhero sitting down near the edge of the building. 

Upon hearing your footsteps, he turns and looks at you, barely acknowledging your presence with a nod. You wince internally, the lack of acknowledgement stinging more than you anticipated. As you approach the unmasked superhero watching the sunset, you can't shake off the unease settling in.

You sit down beside him. You sit down next to him, maintaining a careful distance. A subtle fidget in his posture hints at the underlying tension between you. He regards you with a mix of curiosity and wariness, taking in the objects in your hands.

“Peace offering,” you repeat, holding up the cup like a truce flag, a sheepish grin on your face as if you’re a five-year-old who got in trouble with their parents. However, Miles's expression remains stoic. He takes the cup from you, studying it with a discerning eye. You hold the gift out toward him, and he accepts it, placing it down beside him.

He takes a slow sip, and a moment of realisation crosses his features. "Is this an iced latte?" he asks, his tone more a statement than a question.

You nod, a playful twinkle in your eye. "Yeah, figured it's a classic. Universally accepted, right?"

Miles wrinkles his nose, pushing the cup away slightly. "I prefer my coffee hot."

Your grin falters, the awkwardness returning. "Right, noted. I'll remember for next time." Your words are cheerfully said, but there's an undeniable undertone of discomfort. “Can we talk?”

He hesitates, but his gaze flickers between the coffee cup in his hand, and the gift next to his bag. “Sure.” 

You sit down next to him, making sure to keep a distance between you both. Wouldn’t want to make him even more pissed than he is now, after all. The evening brings about serenity and peace as the sun begins to set, but a heavy weight hangs between you. You decide to address the elephant in the room. "Miles, I really am sorry. I messed up, and I want to make things right."

He looks at you, the seriousness in his eyes contrasting with the lighthearted atmosphere you tried to create. "Gifts and jokes won't change what happened."

The truth stings, but you nod, acknowledging his point. 

“But forgiveness isn’t fully out of reach, right?” You try once more with a hopeful grin, eyeing the mask next to him as you stand up, walking over to the edge of the building. He shrugs. 

“What makes you think I forgive everyone so easily?”

“Why wouldn’t you? You’re Spiderman.” You state simply, staring at the reflection of the glass opposite you. You look down at Miles who’s slowly standing up with wary eyes. The contract rustles as you pull it out of your pocket, watching his eyes grow wide. 

You stare at the signature on the bottom, a finger tracing the hurried scrawl of his name. The contract itself is the only thing tying you to him, the only reason he even still texts you. He’s the only reason why your art still has a motive - a point in each work. 

So, you rip the contract in half. The sound of torn paper fills the air, and you fold it before tearing it again. Again and again, until it’s torn to nothing but shreds on the ground. As the final piece of paper slips from your grasp, you raise your eyes to find Miles frozen in disbelief. His lips part in silent astonishment, fingers fumbling over words trapped on the tip of his tongue.

“Why?”

“Because,” You answer with a shrug, “You’re Spiderman.” A hesitant smile tugs at your lips, but beneath the surface, guilt gnaws at every fibre of your being. It's a battle, the conflicting emotions waging war within you. “You always save the day.” At that moment, you stare at the torn-up contract, bitterness rising in your throat. Underneath that though, is a genuine urge for forgiveness. 

Is this even enough for him to forgive you? 

Prove yourself. 

The back of your sneaker teeters on the edge, and you glance down at the ground below, gauging the distance. Breathing deeply, an idea occurs to you. A dangerous one.

His silence lingers, but an unexpected calm washes over you, a fragile serenity in the eye of the emotional storm. “You always save the day,” You repeat, “Even if I don’t deserve it.”

With that, you take a step back, watching horror dawn on his face as you fall. 

Miles stumbles forward, his voice caught in his throat. “No!” he shouts, reaching out as if he could defy gravity. His eyes widen, reflecting a mix of fear and realisation of the consequences of your impulsive act. 

The time taken to hurtle down a building toward the ground is much slower than you expect. You turn your head, watching the bright lights of various buildings cast a soft glow over the river nearby. The cityscape unfolds beneath you, a tapestry of shimmering lights that paint the skyscrapers with an ethereal glow. Despite the beauty, a profound sense of loneliness settles in, echoing the vastness of the city below.

It’s quiet.

The wind whistles past your ears, your hair whipping wildly around your face as you watch him dive down the side of the building, his mask back on his face as he holds out his arm desperately. 

A laugh bubbles past your lips, smiling as he reaches you, wrapping his arms around your waist and shooting a web, swinging you to safety. 

“Am I forgiven?” You whisper into his ear, arms on his shoulders as he continues to swing. 

“What?!” He answers loudly, bewilderment in his voice. “You jumped down just for that??”

“Yeah!” You lean back to take a proper look at him, adrenaline rushing through your bloodstream as if a hundred cans of Red Bull had been injected into you at once. “So am I?”

He doesn’t reply, shooting another web at a skyscraper. You smile brightly at him, waiting for an answer. His shoulders start to tremble, and he looks down at the streets below. You begin to hesitate, your smile falling. 

Is he mad? Was it too much?

Your questions are answered when he looks up, laughing his heart out. 

“You’re insane,” He huffs out with a shake of his head, the smile in his voice evident. He looks at you once more. “Yeah, you’re forgiven.”

With a relieved sigh, you press your forehead into his shoulder, closing your eyes. The tension releases from your shoulders, a silent acknowledgement of the emotional weight lifted. “...Can I still draw you?”

— — — — — 

The wind still echoes in your ears as Miles sets you down gently on the rooftop. Your sneakers meet the solid surface, and for a moment, you're both silent, catching your breath. The tension lingers in the air, but the overwhelming rush of adrenaline begins to subside.

Miles lowers his mask, revealing an expression caught between concern and bewilderment. You glance at him, a mixture of guilt and anticipation in your eyes. The cityscape stretches before you, a silent witness to the tumultuous emotions swirling between you two.

"Why didn’t you just say that you knew me?" he finally asks, his voice softer now, devoid of the superhero edge.

You wince, your gaze dropping to the ground.  “I didn’t mean to…In my defence, imagine being on the receiving end of a superhero’s wrath.” 

“I wasn’t wrath…ful.” He denies it, his hand over his heart with an offended look. This draws a chuckle out of you, shaking your head. “But I get it. Imagine being forced to sign a contract with someone who knows your real identity.”

You rub your arm uncomfortably. “You must’ve had a hard time," you admit, finally looking at him. "I’m sorry."

The weight of the apology hangs in the air, mingling with the echoes of your impulsive fall. Miles's eyes, once reflecting surprise and worry, soften as he meets your gaze.

The words feel inadequate, unable to fully capture exactly how regretful you feel, but your eyes convey the sincerity of your apology. However, it's too late for one. In this moment of vulnerability between you both, the full weight of your actions finally hits you. 

Miles' expression tightens, and a heavy silence hangs between you. The consequences of your deception weigh on the air, leaving an unspoken tension that neither of you can escape. His eyes flicker with a mix of frustration and concern. 

He struggles to find the right words, his clenched fists telling you all you need to know as his eyes dart away. “You don't understand. If my identity is exposed, it's not just about me. It puts everyone I care about in danger. I've seen what happens to heroes when their secret is out. Not everyone has the privilege of being safe.”

The weight of Miles' revelation settles heavily on your shoulders, a stark reminder of the unintended consequences of your actions. You’re at a loss for words, only capable of falling silent and staring at your fidgeting hands that have begun to peel the skin of your thumb. “I won’t tell anyone,” you promise, though you’re not entirely sure of how much it’d even matter to him. “I know I’m not exactly trustworthy-” The corner of his lips quirked up in faint amusement at the irony, “but I promise, I’ll never, ever, ever reveal your identity.”

You look up at him, hoping that your sincerity is conveyed through your words. 

Finally, he releases a breathy chuckle, looking down at his mask, and back up at the glowing lights below. For a moment, the gaping distance between you lessens. He glances at you with an accepting smile. 

“Okay.”

As you both settle onto the rooftop, the city sprawled beneath you, a newfound calm envelops the space. The laughter from earlier echoes, but it carries a different note now – one of shared understanding and the promise of a fresh start.

“Hey,” You turn, an idea taking root in your mind. “You’re smart, right?”

“Some might say so,” He agrees playfully with a nod.

At his response, you go on your knees, clasping your hands together in a sudden attempt to beg him. “Tutor me.” You begin to explain before he can react. “I got this huge test coming up, and I won’t be allowed to participate in my school’s art exhibit if I don’t pass. You gotta help me, dude!”

“What?” He’s taken aback by your sudden request, raising a brow. “Why me?”

“Because!” You point accusingly at him, “You go to that smart and fancy school, don’t you? Nicole already told me about how you won that scholarship and everything. Plus, you’re even doing all this Spiderman stuff on the side. Your time management skills are so much better than mine will ever be. Aren’t you a superhero? Don’t you have, like, super study skills or something?”

“Super study skills?” He says drily, and you realise exactly how stupid your words sound. However, you shake your head stubbornly, sticking to whatever you’ve said. “Well, since you’re clearly in need of help, and like you said - I’m a superhero, right? Guess I gotta rescue yet another helpless citizen.”

You smile excitedly, delighted that he’s agreed before what he says finally sinks in. “Did you just call me helpless?”

“So, what’s the test on?” He asks, ignoring your pointed glare. 

“Math and Science.” You decide to let it go because he did just save you from a rather dreadful demise. 

He purses his lips slightly, weighing his options. “Sure,” He nods, “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thank you, thank you! You won't regret it, I promise! I’ll even buy you tiramisu or whatever it is you wanna drink!” You exclaim happily, unable to stop yourself from hopping up and down from his agreement. 

He chuckles, readjusting his mask and shooting a web at the adjacent apartment building. “No problem. Just don’t tell anyone you have a superhero tutor, okay?”

“I solemnly swear.” You promise with a nod, watching him give you a two-fingered salute before gracefully swinging off, likely heading back home. You make your way back too, humming happily at the thought of future study sessions with your newfound superhero tutor and friend.

— — — — — 

As he enters his room after another day of swinging through the day as Brooklyn's one and only Spiderman, he tosses aside his mask and discards his suit. Another day, another citizen saved, as is the usual routine. Before he jumps into his bed, he pauses. 

He grabs his water bottle and pours some water onto the potted plant sitting on the windowsill, fingertips brushing against the delicate leaves that rustle with the breeze.

[slashingdisneypasta]

Bittersweet Slasher Movie Happy Ending Rewrites

The Sinclair Brothers all decide to leave Ambrose one day. They each go in a different direction, they find little corners of the world that are just there's- no more bedroom door they don't go into, no more family pictures that they wince to see, no more memory of parents better off dead. They don't see each other anymore but at least they aren't there.

There's no technicality in Fred Krueger's arrest and so the court successfully sentences him to capital punishment- the only time in Springwood History that anyone has received that sentence. No one really talks about him anymore.

After a boy's tragic death at Camp Crystal Lake it shuts down, and a apartment buildings go in. Pamela Voorhees, the mother of the boy, eventually has another child and that kid grows up knowing all about their big brother- how he would have loved them and he's definitely watching over them always; There's a picture of him above the mantel and they never forget him.

Tiffany Valentine catches one look at Charles Lee Ray, all dangerous and hot... and turns right away. Tempting, but she's just here at this bar for a drink with her friends.

Chucky himself ends up in prison after Detective Norris drags him out of that toy store. He spends his days carving symbols into the floor under his bed and laughing at court ordered therapy until one of the other prisoners beat him to within an inch of his life for what he did to Sarah and Nica. He doesn't survive that night in the medical bay.

After their parents leave, Drayton gets 3 jobs in town and keeps his brothers and their grandpa afloat the best that he can but eventually those ungrateful shits disregard his hard work one-too-many times, and they're all old enough now... so he finally leaves. Chop Top and Nubbins leave too after that, finding healthier lives separate from each other, and Bubba stays in Texas, where they were born, taking care of grandpa until he dies and then living on his own. They're all lonely, missing a part of themselves... but they're healthy enough to be happy. They all know they're better off loving each other from afar.

Charlie never comes back from Korea. He's missing in action- Suspected prisoner of war. Luda Mae, Thomas and Monty stay at home as long as they can in case he one day finds his way back to them... but he doesn't. And eventually there's nothing left around them so they have to leave- they have to say goodbye to him, for good. After that they move up north and they discover the most wonderful charity group to help people with conditions like Thomas'.

Michael never gets out of that Penitentiary. He lives a long, long life but he's held safely in there until they day that he dies.

Maureen Roberts does not make the big time, but she also never gives up. Not even after Milton, no way. She stays in Hollywood, living in a tiny apartment on her own, working a job she doesn't have to take home and going to every audition she can get her hands on for the rest of her life. She never meets Neil Prescott. She never has Sydney. Roman does find her and she does turn him away but there's nothing to be jealous of. He... lets it go. He moves on. Billy and Stu never even hear about her.

[captainnameless]

Unfortunately the Michael + Seb brain rot has consumed me and I can’t think about anything else 

Would love to hear more thoughts about them if you feel like it :) totally okay if not

If you want a prompt: Japan 2007

Seb crashed into Mark taking both of them out under the safety car (which is sad because Seb was running 3rd in a toro rosso and everyone was super impressed). Mark was fuming and apparently Seb cried in the garage because he cost both teams points and poor bub was just so stressed and upset 😭 

How did Michael deal with that meltdown?

nooooooooo bc imagine this tiny 20-year old who just got promoted to Toro Rosso with just the world to carry on his shoulders still 😭

It’s a horrible life, Sebastian decides as he’s waiting for Michael to finish his conversation with Franz Tost; it’s cold, it’s raining, he turned a potential podium into a DNF and he just got the chewing out of a lifetime from Mark Webber.

There’s hot tears pricking at the corners of his eyes that he stubbornly wipes away with the back of his sleeve, he peeks over at Michael just when the elder looks at him and his face must be telling, because even Franz looks sympathetic now. He doesn’t hear their goodbye’s, but notices the body language change before Michael’s striding over to him, wrapping an arm along his shoulders and guiding him out the motorhome.

It’s still pissing down rain, at least the tears escaping his eyes won’t be as noticeable, Sebastian thinks while Michael gets out the umbrella, starts walking somewhere Sebastian blindly follows. He wishes desperately he could just curl up into Michael’s chest, but can’t, he does lean into the elder a bit more, almost stumbling over his own feet.

Michael just tightens his hold, quietly shushes the distressed sound that leaves Sebastian. “Almost at the car.” He soothes.

Quicker than Sebastian’s expected he’s being buckled into the passenger seat, Michael’s thumb wiping at the tears on his cheeks before pressing a kiss to his forehead. “No more tears.” He hums before fumbling around a bag, tossing Sebastian his childhood plush that he’s been carrying around forever.

Sebastian snatches it up, presses his face into the soft fur of the bunny while his fingers tangle into both of the ears. He barely registers the ride home.

“Still breathing?” Michael asks when he gently pulls the plush from Sebastian’s face, offering another kiss for the great disservice that apparently is.

“You frown like that long enough you’ll face will get stuck.” Michael hums, pressing a kiss to Sebastian’s eyebrows before pulling him out of the car.

Back at the hotel Sebastian’s forced into a hot shower, while Michael promises him tea. He knows Michael always brings tea from home, so he agrees to the deal.

When he gets out of the shower Michael’s already made himself comfortable on the sofa in the hotel room, the radio’s playing music on the lowest setting and the tea’s already poured into matching cream mugs on the little table.

Sebastian wants to cry again.

“I know,” Michael sighs gently, sits up and opens his arms. “Come here, liebling.”

Sebastian doesn’t need to be told twice, remembers to snatch his lil’ rabbit with him before crashing into Michael’s chest and just crying.

He doesn’t know for how long, but when he’s calmed down enough, Michael reaches over to grab the mug, holds it for Sebastian to sip and it isn’t scalding hot anymore.

“You’re okay.” Michael suits. “It was a mistake, you’ll make a lot more.”

That gets him another frown. Michael laughs. “I made a lot more. I turned out alright.”

Sebastian supposes that’s true, downs the rest of his tea so he can snuggle back into the soft jumper that Michael changed into.

“Mark yelled at me.” He pouts.

“I’ll kick his ass.” Michael offers and it pulls a chuckle from Sebastian.

“What? It’s not like they can give me a penalty.”

Sebastian smiles some more. “I’m glad you’re here.” Because he is, and maybe life isn’t horrible.

[debbeh]

Sigh... I made a list:

(there are 63 points so you've been warned)

Tragic backstory

Pretended to be a librarian (Bernard, The Negatus Redemption)

Went to Prison (and had minion(s) try to break him out)

PJs

Big robots

EXACT SAME HELMET (see kickball scene in Megamind)

Both cannonically good at kickball

[had] swarm of flying minions (with one stereotipical female one)

Teams up with female protagonist who is way more confident than he is and who he sorta has a crush on. Debby and Roxanne are utterly the same person.

Pretends to be other person to trick Debby/Roxanne and HAS to throw in how strong/attractive he is

Both have kind of a Christmas special

Both got memes (Wakkus Bonkus- yes that counts- and no bitches?)

Both have an iconic makeup look (lots of eyeliner or lots of lipstick) (and I love them for it)

Will Ferrell and Simon Farnaby look wicked similar...

Also similar first half of name... coincedince?

Don't know how to way certain words/phrases ("Ollo" and "Prawns in my game" for example)

Unethically sourced leather

Design their own logos and make graphs/presentations

Just a lil dorky guy <3

Blue people

Doofenshmirtz level sucess (0)

Can't read

Weird tiny goatee

Desperately optemistic

Probably same Romania outlet

Feet scene?

Probably not from Earth/Yonderland

Transitions (castle to onion/screaming to crowd)

Kidnaps female protagonist

Uses sci-fi skype (argument w/metroman, argument w/Imperatrix)

Surprised when plan actually works

Minions keep accidentally defending other side

Sets up base in fancy cement building (or what one may call a town hall)

Likes hoarding silly gadgets and teddy bear

Doesn’t know what a window is

“If my parents could see me know"

Graffiti's things

Props that anyone can own (I actually have Megamind’s lamp and the birdhouse from the Thanktival special)- not to brag or anything...

Chalkboard diagrams

“I got a bad idea about this”

Michael Jackson reference

Bad good good bad confusion

Secret hideout with unguarded back door

Hug/kiss from main female character makes him rethink his ways

Actually cares about city/realm (doesn’t want to die)

Superhero from rich family finds skill in another line of business (Metroman/The Bird)

“Power vacuum” when Metroman/imperatrix is gone

Fem protagonist tied up and held hostage by guy with goofy hair (Titan/Cuddly Dick)

Plot important tower building

Entire movie is the Dirty Ernie episode

Police car noises literally just remind me of DI Bones (Again, Horrible Histories but still)

Prison dance scene

End with recall to past/time travel

Not used to positive feedback

Cleaning lady outfit and perm

White haired alter ego (Santa/Space dad)

Accidentally makes villains worse than himself

“Say goodbye to your lovelife” “The gad guy doesn’t get the girl”

Female protagonist figures out his entire plan immediately

EXACT same diction

Gets big fancy battle suit that ends up not working but looking cool I guess

Has to be good when good guy goes bad

Real villains way more hard core than him

“Under new management” (Titan/Cuddly Dick both basically say this)

Mkay, thanks for reading! G'night

[humbledragon669]

Script to Screen comparison: Episode 4 – Saturday Morning Funtime P2 – deletions, additions and amendments

Standard Intro

Having followed the episodes through with the Script Book, I've tried to break the differences between the original script and the end result on screen into a couple of different categories:

Large changes (whole scenes/multiple lines of script. These are in part 1 of the write up for this episode.

Things that are in the original script but not in the finished episode (I'm calling these deletions).

Things that aren't in the original script but are in the finished episode (I'm calling these additions).

Things that have been changed (I'm calling these ones amendments).

Not all of the changes fit neatly into one category or the other (there are shades of grey...). The first three of the differences will be presented within bullet lists, with a description. The last of the categories will be presented in a table. I'll make comments about anything I find particularly notable after each category.

NB: whilst going through this episode, it became apparent that the differences between script and screen were numerous and, in some cases, quite significant. In an attempt to try to avoid this blog post from being an incessant list of tiny details, I’ve treated any instances of scenes/scene sequences that deviate greatly from the original script as a single large change. As such, all changes to the following scenes/scene sequences have been addressed in Part 1 of this write up:

An establishing shot leading into Lesley’s departure from his house (#405).

Crowley in his apartment, looking for somewhere to run to (#411).

The radio conversation about the incident at the nuclear power station.

The aliens (#421).

The Japanese whaling ship (#424-427).

Newt’s car accident (#431/2).

Newt’s arrival at Jasmine Cottage (#434).

The movie theatre (#439).

Anathema teaching Newt about Agnes (#440).

Adam forcing The Them to come with him in Hogback Woods (#441).

Crowley setting up for the arrival of Hastur and Ligur in his apartment (#444-455).

Angels/demons don’t/do dance sequence.

Crowley and Hastur in the internet pipeline (#458/9).

Newt and Anathema avoiding the tornado (#463-465).

Adam screaming at The Them in Hogback Woods (#471).

Conversation between Aziraphale and the Metatron (#474-476).

Deletions

A few words from the Captain that he knew he was looking at the sunken city of Atlantis.

A second reference to hushing people up has been cut from Adam’s conspiracy claims.

The Them looking around for tunnels (including Dog.

Gabriel was supposed to pat Aziraphale’s stomach before criticising his physique.

The stage directions have Gabriel sitting at a desk when Michael approaches him to talk about Aziraphale’s indiscretions.

One of Gabriel’s lines, where he says he’s disappointed in Aziraphale.

Michael’s suggestion that there may be an explanation for the photos they’ve discovered of Crowley and Aziraphale.

The script has Michael openly confirming Gabriel’s statement that there are no back channels.

The stairwell that Michael has the telephone conversation in was supposed to have a view.

Ligur was scripted to growl after the telephone conversation with Michael.

The stage directions show Lesley examining the contents of his van before making the delivery to Pollution.

The script has a few more lines from Lesley about how much of a menace he considers trucks to be to pedestrians.

Lesley was originally supposed to brush himself down after his near-death experience with the lorry, before making his way down to the riverbank.

Pollution was supposed to nod “listlessly” when confirmed that they are the intended recipient of the delivery.

A cut away shot showing the box from Pollution’s delivery floating down the river, followed by the noise of a motorcycle offscreen, that has been cut.

The pen that Lesley used to write his goodbye note was originally scripted to be leaking (after being handled by Pollution).

The note that Lesley has for Death was supposed to float across the road after his death. It was also scripted to be caught by Death as it floated in the air.

Anathema is scripted to look “like she hasn’t slept for a day or two” when answering the door to The Them.

Newt was supposed to be unaware that Shadwell was addressing him when calling him to attention in the flat.

An interaction between Newt and Shadwell where the former is hesitant about putting on the Witchfinder Army uniform, which is met with Shadwell’s displeasure.

The book provided to Newt for exorcism purposes is named in the script – it’s “Little Prayers for Tiny Hands”.

Shadwell’s description of the intended function for the book (“Just wave it around a bit.”) in an exorcism.

One of the Tibetans had a line provided background for the purpose of their presence (“We must tunnel and observe. We are secret masters.”).

Erics #2 and #3 are supposed to be checking maps and tablets when the Megiddo scene opens.

One of Hastur’s lines about cultivating the end of the world.

Hastur originally described the practice of eating tongues as fun at the end of his “I don’t do jokes” speech.

The script has Hastur summoning the next of the disposable demons after he has burned the first one away.

The fields of Megiddo scene originally ended with Hastur declaring his “one big avocado” comment as being funny.

Warlock originally told Hastur he smells of poo a second time, after Hastur tells him he’s heard a lot about him.

Crowley was scripted to be angry when driving through Soho.

Aziraphale was supposed to walk away from the argument with Crowley in Soho, with a noncommittal shrug.

The stage directions have Michael giving approval for Sandalphon to punch Aziraphale, by way of a nod.

Aziraphale was supposed to have blood on his lips after being punched, which he later wiped away.

There was originally a shot scripted after Aziraphale’s insistence that he is going to take matters up with a higher authority, showing newspapers and dustbins being blown over by a noisy wind.

A shot of The Them (and Dog) gathered around Adam “like courtiers”, with whispering going on in the background.

A line from Pepper about wanting to go home and being hungry.

Wensleydale’s use of “actually” from his sentence about there being no people (“But there wouldn’t actually be any people.”).

Scene #462 (an establishing shot of a storm brewing over Tadfield) has been cut.

Shadwell pointing to the pin, glowing red in the wall.

Shadwell leaving the flat, slamming the door in the process, after his conversation with Madame Tracy.

Aziraphale was supposed to firmly deny being in league with the forces of darkness as soon as Shadwell accuses him of being so.

Shadwell was supposed to lower his “exorcising” hand with his other, after Aziraphale’s discorporation.

Buddy Holly’s “Everyday” leading us into the credits.

In stark contrast to the larger changes that have been made to this episode (some of which change the flow, content or tone of a scene completely), these deletions all feel like their absence/presence makes very little difference to the end result. The only ones I’m sorry we don’t get are to do with Hastur – he’s a really great source of black comedy in this show, and it’s a shame we don’t see more of that. The one thing that I’m really glad was cut is Aziraphale walking away from Crowley with a shrug during their Soho argument. It feels so out of character for him, and completely goes against the grain of what we’ve been led to believe about the connection between the pair of them. Good riddance to that I say.

Additions

A shot of Adam sleeping after the discovery of Atlantis.

A shot of Michael crossing Heaven’s office floor after their conversation with Gabriel.

Michael’s telephone call to Ligur being interrupted by a passer-by.

An extra line from Lesley when delivering the parcel to Pollution (“There you go.”)

Shadwell telling Newt to find Adam and keep an eye on him.

Hastur’s exclamation at the mess caused by the leaking pipe at the end of that scene.

Hastur’s line about Megiddo being where the world will end.

The interjections from Hastur when Warlock answers his questions about voices.

The shot of the Bentley leaving Soho.

Michael’s emphasis of how “disturbing” (“rather”) the things are that they’ve learned about Aziraphale.

The shot of Adam’s feet leaving the ground after his argument with The Them.

The pin smoking in the wall.

Shadwell saying that he let Newt go “alone”.

Mirroring what I was saying earlier about being regretful that some of Hastur’s comic lines being cut, I’m really pleased to see that we get a few added lines from him instead, all of which serve to add a bit of lightness to the episode, which is overall pretty doom-and-gloom. I love the fact that the comedy comes from the character who, according to his own assessment of himself, has no sense of humour. I don’t know whether these additions came from the script writer(s) or from the actor, but I love them nonetheless.

I’m not sure what the shot of Michael crossing the office floor of Heaven gives us (aside from perhaps an idea of size?), but I do like the addition of them being interrupted by another Heavenly worker using the stairs. If we weren’t suspicious that their actions were not open, honest, and endorsed by their superiors, that little interaction makes it painfully clear.

Amendments

So many of these amendments are so minor that they may not even have been intentional, or were perhaps implemented by the actors because they simply felt like a more natural delivery for their character. There are one or two I would like to pick up on. Firstly, this one:

One word. That’s all it takes to show that Aziraphale has distanced himself from the dilemma. In the original script, he sees himself as part of the problem of choosing sides. In the version we get on screen, he’s outside of it, refusing to accept that it’s a choice he has to make. This tiny detail really highlights one of the (many) reasons I love this show so much – language, and the power of words, has truly been given the consideration it deserves. Here’s another example of the same thing:

In the original script, Adam is declaring his intentions. In the screen version, he’s offering a possibility. Subtle, but a very clear difference in the meaning beneath the words. There’s one more of these that I think is worth mentioning, albeit a bit less poignant:

The first of these phrases suggest that Crowley and Aziraphale have been known to call Shadwell on more than one occasion, possibly even regularly. In fact, the subtle change to the ending of the sentence could even be perceived to suggest that there are other men that call Shadwell. The episode version is much more definitive, and (I think) much more fitting to the storyline.

There are a couple of changes on the list that I struggle to comprehend the reasoning for – why change Hawaii for Havana as Morbillo’s (Morbilli in the book) destination? The change from the Middle East (as in the book) to Africa as one of Lesley’s previous destinations may have been so as to use slightly less inflammatory language for the global situation, but I can’t understand the change when applied to a cruise ship. I also don’t know why we didn’t see the pin being presented to Newt in its presentation box – aside from the requirement of an additional prop (the box), I can’t see how this would have been deemed as too much effort, yet would have demonstrated the reverence that Shadwell holds for his way of life beautifully.

The final amendment I want to touch on is Crowley’s departing of the Bentley. The version we see on screen, with him leaving the door open and calling to Aziraphale, feels so much more fitting than what was originally written. As with Aziraphale’s non-committal shrug that was scripted in this scene, it feels out of character that Crowley would mindfully close the door and dare to grab the angel. The stage directions here also suggest that there’s a beat where Crowley considers his next move at this point before coming to a decision. I think David’s version of a determined demon who has driven to Soho with one purpose in mind already feels much slicker.

And that’s it for this episode. As I said, it’s been a bit of a slog. Hopefully you get something out of my incessant ramblings. Feel free to pick up on any of these changes that you’d like to discuss or comment on in more detail 😊 As always, questions, comments, discussion: always welcome! See in the next one.

[in-cognito1990]

mindbrokensluts

This Petplay thing is actually more fun than I first thought. When my boyfriend Michael suggested it I wasn’t really sure. I kind of thought pretending to be a dumb animal was a stupid idea and I didn’t see how it could be hot at all.

Then we got started. He stripped me down and tied my hair up into pigtails. I’d never seen him so excited to have sex, and that’s saying something. When he showed me that collar I was pretty shocked. A collar seemed really degrading at first but it was also kind of cute with a little bell. I let him wrap it around my neck and gently fasten it around.

The weight of the collar around my neck and the tightness was odd. Hard to get used to, but then as we continued it became quite snug and comfortable. Whenever I moved, even slightly, the bell jungled. It was funny, each time it made me feel a little happier and a little more light headed.

Now I’m presenting myself in front of him, naked and tongue out. I’m really embarrassed but he’s loving it. It feels so strange, being obedient to him. I don’t want him to get the wrong idea but whenever he gives me an order I get worked up. I noticed the heat building after he collared me and now my pussy is all slick and puffy. I don’t know why I like this so much!

“You’re just the cutest little puppy girl aren’t you!”

I nod my head, tongue still hanging out dumbly. I’m getting the hang of acting like a silly pet.

“Seeing you like this I find it hard to imagine you as a woman or an equal. You’re just a dumb little fuckmutt here to suck and bounce on my cock.”

That’s….harsh. Why would he say that, it’s so offensive! He’s gotten carried away, I’m not going to just sit here and let him say that. He had to go and ruin it. I’m not going to ignore my inner feminist just for his pleasure. He’s going to get a piece of my mind!

“How dare you say that you-”

“Awww remember good dogs don’t speak unless their master commands. Besides, isn’t it a strain on your tiny brain? It must be so hard to think about anything beyond your basic urges, doggy.”

Wha-I…um….what’s going on? What he just said is so…so…wrong but…um…he’s right it is hard to think. I should finish what I was saying…uh….I can’t seem to speak. Something’s weird here…it feels like I want to speak but the words are so hard…putting my thoughts into words is…its…I can’t do it good. It’s funny and, um, my head is all fuzzy.

“Haha looks like I was right, eh girl?”

I nod my head eagerly. What did he say? I don’t know, these human words are hard so I just nodded. I agree with master. It seems like the only thing to think is what master wants. There’s a voice in my head that says I shouldn’t listen to master but it’s talking in human words and they’re all confusing. It’s easier to just bounce up and down and make the bell on my collar ring.

*jingle jingle*

Yeah that’s better. The jingling makes it harder to hear the nasty voice. Plus it’s fun! Hehe!

*jingle jingle*

“Ok clam down girl, I know you like your collar. So do I but why don’t you bend over and I’ll give you a treat. I promise you’ll love it!”

Ooh! A treat! I can’t wait! Treat! Yay! Yay!

*jingle jingle*

Ok bend over. Wow this feels so natural. Why did I think I was meant to walk on two feet a minute ago? All fours is right for a doggy like me. Alright I’ll just stick my arse up in the air and wriggle it a bit. I bet master will like that. Teehee.

“Ahhhhhhh! Arf! Arf!”

Woah! His penis! So hot and thick! It makes me shiver and moan! My tongue is sticking out even more now, I’m drooling everywhere! Every time he thrusts my bell rings!

*jingle jingle jingle*

So fun. Masters cock is so good. I’m such a good dog. Master is giving me a treat and I love it! My tummy is clenching and I cants top barking!

“Arf Arf Arf Arf Arf Arf!”

“Looks like you’re about to cum. The effects of the collar will become permanent then. Say goodbye to working and walking and talking, from now on you’ll be a happy brainless fuckmutt. I’ll get you a dog bowl and a cute cage and everything!”

Sometimes it’s hard to understand what master is saying but I don’t care right now because it feels like I’m about to explode! My pussy is spasming and shuddering and the room is spinning! Masters cum is shooting into me, filling up my insides! Wow. It’s so hot and gooey it just doesn’t stop shooting into me! I’m cumming soooooo hard!

“Woah that was intense. You’re still shaking. Hey there’s some on the floor, time to be a good girl and lick it all up”

Ooh yum!

[thebittercorvus]

Content warning: Death. Decay.

His best friend died two weeks ago. He saw it happen.

And he almost convinced himself, that he was having a nightmare.

"--y, and so I went to human resources to complain about Kassandra being a hostile, insufferable creep again but they said I needed to, hear me out, fucking walk it off, and isn't it a bitch that--"

Because you see, it was sudden.

Not that death gives you a warning in writing two weeks prior, stuck in your door like an eviction notice for delayed payments or whatever bullshit the landlord is on about now. Actually scratch that, he's not sure if that'd make things better or worse.

He's not sure if he would've liked to know his friend was going to die. But, saying goodbye one night after making plans to spend sunday watching a series they've been meaning to watch the entire year, just to see him slumped over his desk and without a pulse next morning...

You see, nobody tells you just how heavy ashes can be. Nobody tells you either that in the crematorium, those ovens rarely ever get deep cleaned. He's not sure whose ashes were mixed in that tiny urn he just knew it wasn't just his friend but some strangers' ashes too because there was no space in the local cemetery and who has money for the private cemetery two hours away from the city anyways.

His ashes rested in the river. Lucas dreamed of seeing the world, and that's the closes thing he could get him on a half-a-cent budget.

When he was alive, Lucas was stressed, overworked and underpaid, like most adults his age were. He had a lot on his plate, in the metaphorical sense only, because he hadn't been eating too well. The last time they saw each other, he was complaining about a weird pain in his arm, and a headache that wouldn't go away. Lucas always had a lot on his plate.

The funeral was two weeks ago. He was there. He was the one who scattered the ashes and he has alone for it. He managed to contact a relative who would identify the body, but they didn't stay long after it and they surely didn't want anything to do with funeral arrangements.

Lucas had been dead and gone for two weeks and he was about to write it off as the worst living, walking nightmare he's had in his entire thirty years.

Except, his friend clocked in the exact same hour as every day.

"Yo', Michael, are you listening to me?"

Even though he himself found him without a pulse, slumped over that tiny desk inside that cramped office.

Even though he vividly recalls having to deal with everything Lucas left behind on his own.

He didn't even had the time to process it all.

Yet there he was, walking around as if nothing had happened, looking exhausted yet still with a smile on his face, saying that he'd rest when dead like a cosmic joke at the expense of his sanity... Michael convinced himself that surely, the funeral, those endless days, everything, as unlikely as that might sound, was a horrible dream.

Even though he was the only one there to scatter the ashes.

"No, it's fine, I was listening to you," he said, feeling like he was going to cry all of a sudden. Like he didn't woke up one day to his friend being gone. It had been a nightmare. Surely it was a nightmare. A long, vivid one. "I'm-- I'm glad to see you."

Luke gave him a puzzled look. Most people would. It was a weird choice of words.

"Thank... you? I'm glad too?" he goes, rather awkwardly. "Man, are you alright?"

"Me?"

"Yeah? You look like you just saw a ghost."

He blinked the tears away, and if Lucas noticed something off, he was kind enough to let him be. He usually was.

"Hey, you-- remember that one project that's been keeping you awake at night?" He asks. If it was a nightmare, then Lucas was still working overtime to meet the project deadlines.

If it was all a dream then, on that day, two weeks ago, he last saw Lucas disappear inside his office to dream of never seeing him walk out alive again.

"Remember? Man, I couldn't forget about it if I lobotomized myself," he replies, rubbing his palms against his eyes. "C'mon now I have five minutes while the project manager reviews the damn thing and I'm trying to tell you how Kassandra is going to be the death of me--"

"Let's get out of here," he says all of a sudden.

Lucas stares at him like he's gone mad.

And maybe he did.

"Mike, dude, are you alright?"

"If I say no, will you come with me?"

"What? Seriously man, you're scaring me. Is everything alright? Did your... did your dad call or something?" he whispers the last part. "You need like. A interbrontion?"

"Stop trying to make interbrontion a thing, it's not gonna happen," he says out of pure reflex. "I'm fine," he lies, "I just... Y'know, you never know when shit's gonna happen. The project will still be there tomorrow. But, today? Today we might just see the cutest dog, and it might not be there tomorrow. Let's just see a movie. Walk downtown 'till three in the morning. Punch a nazi in the face. Let's be like, teens again, walking around the city."

"Dude, we grew up in suburbia."

"I'm not hearing a no!"

"... Man, I don't know, Johnson's been on my ass about finishing this damn thing," Lucas replies, a bit unsure about the whole thing. "What about I drop by your place after I finish this? I have a coupon for chinese takeaway that hasn't expired yet..." A non expired coupon from this man? Unbelievable. "I think." Hah, there it is.

"Y'know, never have I seen Johnson leave a second after four o'clock, while you pull all-nighters eight days a week," he insists, crossing his arms across his chest. In his dream, Johnson denied him paid leave in order to take care of his friend's fucking funeral. He's still pissed about it, and it's also a thing real-Johnson would do. "If he's got a problem he can go ahead and try and fire you."

"You know I can't really afford to be unemployed right now... And I mean, we're all pretty replaceable in life in general--"

"Not to me," he interrupts. "You're. Definitely not replaceable. Not to me."

Man that dream got me fucked up, alright.

"... Seriously man, are you alright?"

... But it had been so real.

***

It took some convincing and a little bit of crying, but in the end he convinced Lucas to leave. He doesn't usually cry, only when in the middle of a mental breakdown or right after eating a really, really good soup, none of which he's had in a while. Maybe they should eat soup, he's sure he can get away with shoplifting two cans of soup still. Who's gonna catch him, the soup police?

So they go see a movie. The tickets are unnecesarily expensive-- for a man that just shoplifted soup-- and the popcorn tastes like cardboard and the movie itself sucks so much they end up dubbing it over with an immensely funnier version in whispers.

They uh, got kicked out of the theater for that one. Even though the place was near empty on accounts of it being a monday.

After that he insists on walking, even though the place he lives is on the other side of town, and Lucas agrees because he's a saint of a man that worries too much for his neurotic friend to say no. They do see plenty of cute dogs willing to get their ears scratched, and plenty of equally cute cats who were not so willing to get their ears scratched.

And it was... Nice.

Maybe that dream was trying to tell him something. Like, appreciate more the friends you've got. Specially the ones that try and make words like interbrontion happen.

"Mike, whatever it is... You know I'm not going anywhere, right? You know that. You have to know that," Lucas insists, after they reach the dead-end alley where the narrow steps of his apartment complex is located.

Michael shrugs. "Dunno. You can't take things for granted."

"Whatever it is, you can tell me, y'know?"

"It's alright, it was..." A very vivid nightmare? In which you died of a heart attack and I was left alone to take care of everything, but it's okay now because you're most definitely not dead. I'm sure someone on the human resources department would've noticed a dead man walking, they don't want to have to pay more people than they absolutely are obligated to. "Uh, my dad did call," he lies instead. "He um, wanted me to lend him some money again." Yeah no way in hell I'm explaining that one.

He sees his friends face go red in a blink.

"THAT MOTHERFUCKER!" He shouts. "I KNEW IT! That ASSHOLE! That's it! I'm getting a fucking plane ticket to Bumfuck No-fucking-where to set his motherfucking SUV on FIRE! Give me his number he's going to hear of me again."

Have you ever had prophetic dreams?

"C'mon now relax, he didn't even say anything--"

"I'm going to murder that backstabbing miserable attempt of a man, I don't give a shit if he calls me the wrong thing he's going to fucking meet Lucas and my fists will meet his fucking sad pathetic fac--"

Or perhaps, a dream so, so likely that when it ends up occurring in real life, you can't help the deja-vú.

Perhaps that had been death, sticking the eviction notice to the wrong door.

"Lucas?" He begins, seeing him get paler by the second. It's only now that he notices, the way his breath comes in short. Like he just ran a marathon, even though they were walking just fine a few minutes ago. They were just talking a second ago. "Lucas!"

"No, no, I just need to-- need to sit down, fuck--"

It happens in slow motion.

It happens in a split of a second.

It happens slowly, suddenly, all at once.

"No, no, nonononononono, wake up, wake up!" he cries once his friend collapses. He never learnt how to properly reanimate anybody. He doesn't know how to do chest compressions, nor has the strenght to keep a heart beating. He's regretting not learning it. "HELP! SOMEBODY HELP ME!"

Through blurred eyes he sees his friend take a breath and then, it stops. His head is spinning.

This can't be real. This can't be real. This can't be-

***

"--Really, and so I went to human resources to complain about Kassandra being a hostile, insufferable creep again but they said I needed to, hear me out, fucking walk it off, and isn't it a bitch that--"

He startled awake, suddenly back inside his cubicle while everyone else worked. Lucas had walked in, in the middle of a short break while his project was being reviewed.

He's fairly certain, he just had lived through this morning for the third time.

"What day is it?" He asks abruptly, because this just can't be.

Lucas stops mid-sentence, and looks at him, extremely confused. "... Uh, monday?"

There's no way.

"But it can't be monday," he says, getting up immediately. Nobody in the entire floor seem to even care about the sudden raise of his voice. Now that he thinks about it, last time nobody even gave a fuck that they walked out. Usually he can't even go to the bathroom more than twice or some manager somehow finds out.

"Well, it oftentimes comes riiiight after a sunday, unless I missed the latest update," Lucas replies with an easygoing smile. "Are you alright?"

No. "Yes?" Definitely maybe. "I just. I need to see something."

He starts running then, and takes notice of just how nobody seems to give a crap about it. Usually they're sligthly more attentive to the world around their cubicles, at least just enough to catch some gossip, like Michael from the third floor making a run to the fire exit like a madman.

And then he's outside, and the world stares back. The kiosk in the corner has newspapers, and they're all dated to a monday. The news channel reads monday. The vietnamese restaurant across the street has a special offer for mondays and the coffee shop right besides it has a handmade chalk sign that reads "Marvelous Mondays!"

And he's seen enough movies to know exactly what's wrong.

"-ke, MIKE!" He finally hears the shouting coming from behind him. "THERE YOU ARE YOU ABSOLUTE IDIOT! WHAT IN THE ACTUAL--"

"We're repeating the day of your death, and you're going to die today at around eleven of a heart attack," he says quickly, because he hasn't learned enough from those movies. He hates them, as a matter of fact.

"... Hey did you read my search history or something to prank me, that's not cool dude," he replies instead. "But thanks for reminding me I have to update my passwords."

"Coolio69420 has been your password since we were fucking twelve anyways-- wait a minute, search history?" Lucas at the very least has the decency to look away. "YOU KNOW YOU'RE HAVING SYMPTOMS YOU IDIOT!"

"Yeah, well, I don't have hospital money."

"And I don't have funeral money!" He goes off, angry and relieved, and grabs him by the arm to drag him to the nearest emergency room. "C'mon! We're splitting the bill, I'm taking out a loan, whatever!"

"Dude this is not a dinner--"

"I don't give a shit if I go bankrupt, I'm not seeing you die for the third time!"

And he's not entirely sure how or why, but Lucas, stubborn asshole he's always been, agrees to it.

***

They save him, although it was a close call, and he gets to have a headache about the bill on the way home with his very much alive friend walking besides him.

"That was scary, you say you kept having dreams about me dying?" Lucas asks in between sips of water. "That's horror story levels of creepy."

"Yeah, well, but it worked and now you're alive."

"And you're bankrupt."

"But you're alive," he insists, like nothing else could matter in the world. Nothing does, as a matter of fact.

"... Dude that's kinda gay."

He punches him in the arm. Ligthly. "Friends don't let friends die of prophetized heart failures!"

"That's a brand new sentence," Lucas laughs.

The light at the crosswalk turns green. It's a bit of a long way home but for the life of him, he can't remember where he parked his bike and he's fairly certain he left his wallet in his desk. He wants to have faith but he know of an asshole or two that will undoubtelly just take whatever little money he's got left.

"Hey, you said the dreams were super realistic, right?" He hears Lucas ask besides him. They're still crossing. It feels like the crosswalk was...

Weirdly infinite.

"Yeah, why?"

He hears Lucas stop besides him. Which is weird, in the middle of a busy crosswalk, with cars and people around them. Usually the city is extremely noisy.

When he looks back, Lucas simply is standing. Somehow, he's in the middle of the street, while he's on the other sidewalk waiting.

"Lucas?"

"Say, Mike," he hears him say, like a whisper from somewhere beyond. "You'd know, if this were a dream, right?"

For a moment, it feels as if the world stills for a second.

Then he blinks, and it's over. There's music coming out of a cornershop, and a group of girls are trying to record a dance video in front of a flower shop. The cars are honking impatiently at the stoplights that are taking way too long to turn green again.

Michael smiles at him, extending his hand so his friend will just hurry up and meet him on the other side.

"I'm sure I would've noticed by now," he replies.

Lucas lets out a sigh, relaxing visibly, and continues walking.

The light turns green.

***

"--She doesn't need to hide behind religion to be a phobic piece of shit, really, and so I went to human resources to complain about Kassandra being a hostile, insufferable creep again but they said I needed to, hear me out, fucking walk it off, and isn't it a bitch that--"

He gets up so fast, the chair falls to the ground. The sound echoes in the otherwise silent office, and nobody even looks up from their computers to ask him to kindly shut the hell up.

"It's monday," he says, stricken by horror.

"... Yeah?" Lucas replies, looking more and more concerned by the second. "Mike?"

This can't be, he thinks desperately, making a run to the stairs. The elevator's been broken since the last week and only now they're trying to fix it. Many people has complained about accesibility issues, and the only thing the company offered was a work from home option for them while the elevator was being repaired. There were notices everywhere that the repairs would be done on monday and when he walks by it, sure there are they working on it.

But he doesn't dwell in there.

Instead he runs to the fifth floor, to an office he's got a key of even though he absolutely should not, but does anyways because Lucas more often than not forgets about his, and walks by a couple of people that should, by all means, wonder what the hell is some dude from the third floor doing in there uninvited.

He was so happy about seeing his friend again, that he didn't notice just how... irresponsive the rest of the world became.

The door is jammed. It usually is, that's not a big revelation. They've complained a lot to get it fixed and yet the best they could give Lucas was some oil to mantain it himself. He's since then told everyone that it was a fire hazard and the department simply told him to work with his door open if it bothered him that much. He's been meaning to buy a new lock himself for months now.

Then his friend died, and it didn't matter that much anymore.

And when the door finally opens...

"No, no, this can't be, I just saw you. You were-- you were just talking with me, you're fine!"

Just to find a decaying corpse, slumped over a desk.

"Wake up!" He cries, even though there's maggots eating off his flesh and flies everywhere. It's impressive nobody had issued a complaint for the smell. "Wake up! Wake up!"

"Lucas?"

And then he turns around. And sees...

Himself.

From two weeks ago, when he first found him. In that dream... Or, what he thought had been one anyways.

"Hey, I've told you not to sleep in here how many times now?" He hears himself saying, like in that first dream. He steps aside, and sees a spitting image of himself, another Michael, walk closer to a corpse that now looks fresh instead of decaying. Almost alive. "C'mon now, I brought you breakfast. Lucas. Hey, Lucas!"

It all plays out exactly like the first time.

"Dude stop this, it's not funny," he hears his own voice waver again. He sees himself walk closer. Closer. And put a hand on his friend's shoulder.

He sees again, the body fall off and roll over.

Dead. Dead. Dead.

"HELP!" He hears himself say, for what feels like the millionth time now. "SOMEBODY CALL AN AMBULANCE! SOMEBODY HELP ME!"

"Have you learned your lesson yet?"

The world around him disappears, as soon as he turns around.

There's only himself and the fresh corpse of his friend and, across the void, something that looks like Lucas, walks like Lucas, know things only Lucas would know.

But isn't. His. Friend.

"Who are you?" He asks. "Why are you doing this to me!?"

It smiles at him. The smile resembles his friend too, but only on surface level. There's a glimpse of red in its eyes, that he never noticed before.

"I recall you saying, as you scattered his ashes on that smelly river, that you'd trade your soul just to have him back for a day," the thing says. "Perhaps you should be careful when you speak with a dead man's ashes on your hands, who knows what wicked things are listening."

"Take me back to my world," he cries, kneeling still next to his dead friend. Just like he remembered him. "I can't see-- I don't want to keep having to see him die. This is not what I meant. I wanted him alive again, not-- not having to see him die every day for the rest of eternity!"

"See, that's why you usually word your wishes more carefully my man," the thing says, reappearing by his side.

Up close, it doesn't look nothing like Lucas. Just like a walking corpse, wearing the skin of a man he knew like the back of his hand.

"I don't want this wish," Michael repeats. "I-- I have pets, that I need to take care of, my tortoise. I need to go back."

"Sorry, no refunds," the wicked thing says, smiling with far too many teeth.

"Then I want to change my wish."

"Aw, but I don't think I can do that you see, it's a soul we're speaking of. Valuable things. I sell them, I know what I'm telling you," it says. "But go ahead, let's see what can I do for you."

Michael swallows dry.

He had to try, at the very least.

"My place for his," he says, and the thing's eyes seem to shine brigther. "I-- I will take his place. Just. One last day is what I'm asking you. Let him live, and take me instead."

The thing smiles. It's almost kind, so much that for a moment, he convinces himself it's his friend smiling to him again.

"Did he ever knew?" It asks him.

"... What?"

"Oh, nevermind, I don't think you're even aware of it yourself," it says, getting up and walking away. "A shame. Anyways."

"Wait!"

"One day is all you're getting my dear, pathetic friend," he hears the thing say. "Others have traded their souls for money and youth. Wisdom. Power."

"I just..." he begins, unable to explain himself to the thing across him. It smiles back, knowingly. "I didn't even got to say goodbye."

"Oh, don't you worry," it says, and the world begins to fade in front of his eyes.

"You better wake up, it'll be late for work."

***

He's not entirely sure yet why he left himself be convinced by Michael to just leave work early and go walk around, but he still did it and the thirty messages on his phone from Johnson are there to remind him it's not always the best idea to let Michael have his way all the time.

Should've told him no. But by god, that dog we saw on the way home was so cute.

He was just looking at the picture the dog owner took of the two of them-- a very kind lady that really tried her best to give her number to Mike, just to have the endearingly, annoyingly oblivious man talk about the dog nonstop for ten minutes. He was also adamant that the two of them appeared in the picture with the dog, even though Lucas' never liked pictures.

But these turned out alright. He might just misuse the office supplies to print them.

"I completely forgot to tell you yesterday, you were in such a hurry, remember Kassandra right?" he says, walking inside the office Mike works in, just to find his cubicle empty. "Huh."

"He didn't arrive today," he heard Hera say, the person working just opposide of Mike's desk. "No notice, no anything."

"That's weird, I saw him yesterday," Lucas says, and they just shrug.

"Hangover?" Hera asks.

"He's on recovery," Lucas shoots back, almost offended.

"Sorry, had no clue. He never talks about his personal life," they say. "Try to call him, but I've been trying all morning and it just rings."

"That's 'cause he keeps his phone on silence," he mutters to himself, but still grabs his phone to give it a try.

He sees the contact. It reads that last time he was online was just this morning.

The last message he received from him was just a short goodnight, after Lucas sent him the dog pictures.

... He can't seem to shake off the bad feeling.

And, almost on cue, his phone starts ringing.

"Should've tried to find you sooner, I knew he would reply to you," Hera says, a bit teasing. "I mean I also pick up when my friends call me--"

"It's not him," he says, afraid, reading the name on the caller id.

They look up at last.

"It's his landlord."

***

He couldn't get there fast enough.

They found him on the bathroom floor.

"This has to be a joke," he says, looking at the body hidden under a white sheet. "You-- I saw you yesterday. Get up man, this isn't funny."

"Sir, we need a family member or a spouse to identify the body," he hears someone say.

"Well there's only me, is that not good enough?" He snaps back.

"Are you a spouse?"

"No."

"Sibling? Cousin?"

"He's the boyfriend," he hears the old landlord say.

"We're just friends," Lucas insists.

The man in front of him gives him a look.

"Listen, it might be easier to handle the paperwork if you say you're the boyfriend," he explains. "Not that it will be any easy. Are you sure there are no living relatives? We couldn't get a hold of anybody."

He remembers an old white man with his unkept beard and red hat and unnecesarily enormous SUV and the belt he would always carry around like a whip and use as such more often than not.

"There's nobody but me," he replies, resolute.

The man doesn't look convinced, but doesn't press either. "Alright then. I'll give you a form, make sure to explain you're the boyfriend--"

"We're not--!"

"--'cause if you don't young man, the hospital will just keep his body for research, and I don't know 'bout your or his beliefs but unless he specifically asked for it to be this way, that's not a way to go."

Then he's left in an empty room, with a nervous tortoise walking around and a form to fill.

He saw Mike, just the day before.

"For fucks sake."

He needs a walk.

***

There's way too many people by the river for him to yell. He joked often, that if he were to day, Mike should just scatter his ashes there and see where the wind takes him. He's always wanted to see the world, but never had the money for anything more than a trip to the bay two hours away every other summer.

He took Shelly with him, because now the tortoise would have to live with him and his cat. Mike would do the same if something were to happen to him.

His friend is dead.

His friend is... dead.

"God dammit," he whispers, and sits just behind the railing, trying not to cry and failing to do so.

He's not sure how long it took or just how many people walked by. He can't be the only person in this god forsaken city who just got the worst news of his entire life.

... He didn't even got to say goodbye.

"Life's cruel, ain't it?" He hears someone besides him say.

When he looks up, a woman is smoking besides him. She looks at the river, and blows out the smoke. A gust of wind takes it away.

"Want one?" She offers.

"I hate that brand," Lucas replies.

"More for me then."

He keeps sobbing for a while longer, while the woman goes through her entire pack. And then, opens a new one.

"What would you do, just for a chance to see a loved one, just one more time?" He asks after a moment.

"Don't got one of those," she replies. "But I'd do just about anything to scratch my dog's ears one last time."

"What happened to them?"

"Got ran over by a car."

"Sorry," he says.

"'s fine."

There's more silence after that.

"Right now, I'd just sell my soul," he mutters. The woman stares. "If such things exist."

"Oh, they do. I've heard they're expensive, even," she says.

"Expensive enough to bring a man back to life?" He jokes.

She grins at him.

And, maybe it was just a car passing by, an illusion created by the traffic and his own exhausted mind.

He could've sworn, her eyes just flashed red.

"I'm sure I can work out a deal for you, dear Lucas."

Your friend always said “I’ll rest when I’m dead,” so much that it became his catchphrase. He says it again today when he came into work, going about his daily routine. This normally wouldn’t be concerning, if not for the fact that you attended his funeral two weeks ago.

[mechanicalowls]

Unlovable

a terrornoss one shot

ao3 link

warnings: smut (so don't read if you're under 17), emetophobia, hurt/comfort, loss of a parent, self esteem issues, brief internalized homophobia and the whole m*ni l*dd ordeal

summary: brian michael hanby had a fear of commitment. brian michael hanby had been forcibly thrust into a black hole that was seemingly endless. and brian michael hanby had convinced himself he was unlovable.

fic below the cut:

When he was younger, Brian often found emotional investment wasn't his strong suit. With his parents being older when they had him, they, especially his dad, were pretty old fashioned with how they raised their kids. Men were supposed to be strong, valiant protectors of their families. Men didn't get sad or cry. That was a girl thing.

Tangentially, that meant, at least in Brian's not-fully-developed brain at the time, that men didn't get lovey dovey, or romantic, or doting. That was just out of the question. It wasn't something he learned from his parents, but he also wasn't exactly told otherwise either.

As such, by the time he was a rough lad, roaming the pubs and clubs of Dublin in his college years, he didn't put much thought into who he bedded. So long as she was pretty and had nice tits, he couldn't care less about her feelings or personality. They were always one night stands anyway, no meaningful connection would ever come from banging a chick from the bar because she was the first one willing to glance his way.

He always bailed before his ladies awoke in the morning. Not out of spite or shame, and it wasn't until much later in life that he realised what it was.

The fear of commitment.

Yes, that was an unfortunate side effect of his somewhat stunted emotional growth. Or, lack of emotional maturity, that was a better term for it. In his dumb, college kid brain, he never considered how the women he broke drywall with would feel after waking to cold sheets and sometimes a missing tube of toothpaste. As long as he got his rocks off, he was satiated. With as high of libido as Brian had, especially back then, he was a borderline sex pest in that regard.

It wasn't until a certain youtuber slid into his DM's one day that he really took a step back to evaluate his personality as a whole. He wasn't exactly a complete dickhead, but he wasn't a saint either. Seeing that message from someone he admired and looked up to so much in his inbox shattered something in Brian. His ego, his pride maybe.

He vividly remembered the way his chest tightened as he read the message; a request to play together. He vividly remembered his trembling fingers skipping over keys as he attempted to formulate the perfect response, keeping his “cool guy that does a decent impression” persona intact. He vividly remembers pacing around his tiny bedroom, nervously awaiting the canadian’s response.

When he finally got into a call with said canadian, Brian was over the moon with idol worship, and desperate to remain cool and aloof to the fact that people who were on the level of Justin Bieber and Selena Gomez to him were willing to talk, play and record with him.

Especially Vanoss himself.

Yes, Mr. Evan Fong was, for a while, an unknown quantity. He didn't even know what the man looked like and he was already in too deep by the time that fateful Skype call happened. Brian found that something just felt different at the end of that call, long after Nogla and Tyler and Lui had bid their goodbyes. He and Evan stayed in that call for such a long time, Brian had barely noticed he hadn't slept. In fact, it was Evan who had questioned him about his sleep schedule.

A warm, fuzzy feeling sizzled in his chest as he and Evan wasted away in that call, talking about everything and nothing all at once. Talking about hockey, football, college, their childhoods, youtube, their families, their favorite foods, literally everything. The connection Brian felt with Evan in that call was undeniable, and for many years Brian wondered what that feeling was; moreover, if Evan felt it too.

From that moment on, they were practically inseparable. Brian would drop everything to come record with Evan. Hell, he'd even been fired for the man's sake. For so long, he couldn't place the precise emotion he felt for the younger man. It was just “The Evan Feeling”. Sure, he soon gained good connections with the others, with Marcel, and Nogla, and Anthony and everyone else, but none of their connections felt even remotely similar to the one he held with Evan.

When the shorter man finally did a face reveal in 2014, Brian had felt the tides of “The Evan Feeling” shift. Finally having a face to put to a name was a surreal experience. The only other member of their group more secretive than Evan about his face was Delirious. Despite the video being public and uploaded at Evan's discretion, Brian felt like he was intruding on a private conversation. Like he had accidentally overheard a secret at a party.

He had frowned at Evan's apology for “disappointing people”, whatever that was supposed to mean. Evan was not bad looking in the slightest. Brian would scarcely admit it, but he found the man to be very attractive. He was handsome in the way a college gym bro was. And those muscles really did something for him.

Nevertheless, Brian was a straight man from Dublin, Ireland, living his life, banging chick's with huge racks every other weekend. He banished any of those thoughts to a deep part of his brain. Not only was he not gay, but he was having those thoughts about someone he considered one of his best friends for christ's sake. It was (he assumed) precisely why Evan had stayed hidden behind a camera for so long. He didn't want people ogling him for his looks, preferring when people ogled his sick ninja defusing skills.

As the years went on and the times had changed, Brian found that he never could quite shake “The Evan Feeling”, no matter how he tried. Over the years, their banter evolved from the average conversations you'd have with the boys to something he later recognized as playful flirting. Brian loved to make Evan bashful and sheepish, and, in tandem, Evan adored getting Brian all riled up.

At that point, Brian hadn't had a date in a long while, having sworn off the practice after having his heart broken by that old Subway manager. At least he and Evan were in the same boat and had yet another thing in common in that regard. The poor man hadn't had a steady girlfriend since he graduated high school.

He supposed that's where all the flirting between them came from, a mutual understanding of each other's lack of romance. Nearing the summer of 2016, just before PAX East that year, Brian finally came to terms with the fact that he might not have been as straight as he thought he was. He absolutely refused to confide this in anyone, especially not Evan, and even more especially not any member of his family. They weren't full on hateful, but he did know his dad often called bisexual people “greedy”; even if it was a joke, Brian didn't want to find out if it wasn't one.

Around that same time, Brian finally made the big decision to fly to America for that convention. He'd finally be meeting all of his friends, his brothers, in person for the very first time. He kept it on the down low, openly lamenting the fact that he'd miss yet another opportunity to meet his friends face to face. He found out from Brock what hotel they'd all be staying at that time around, and booked a room as soon as he could to snag it before the convention.

He'd heard from Nogla that the lanky irishman had been tasked with meeting their friends at the door to the hotel, so that way they'd all be able to have dinner together right away. Brian wasn't sure why Nogla was the one chosen for that job instead of, say, Brock or Marcel, but whatever. The moment Brian set foot near the front of that hotel, he saw Nogla's face light up. Brian would always hate to admit it, but his friend gave a great hug. It was a nice, friendly embrace that left him less anxious than he had been just a moment prior.

Nogla finally let him go inside after chattering his ear off for fifteen minutes straight. Upon finding his way to the hotel restaurant and finding a table with several friendly faces all talking and laughing, Brian sauntered up and made his presence known.

To say he received a warm welcome would be an understatement.

Marcel was up in a flash, practically bursting at the seams with excitement as he all but strangled Brian in a bear hug. Brock was next, giving him an embrace similar to the one Nogla had. Then Tyler, and Anthony, and Scotty, and Lui, and Craig. And at last, the man he'd been the most eager (and nervous) to meet in person gingerly made his way over to greet his friend.

The sudden wave of electricity he had felt when Evan hugged him was undeniable. As much as he liked the hugs he'd received from all his friends that day, his brain stalled at the thought of the strong, warm embrace from the shorter man. He clapped a hand on Evan’s shoulder, making a joke about just how muscular the man was. To his surprise and delight, Evan (and the table) erupted into laughter. The canadian rested his hand upon Brian's back, and in that moment he wondered.

He'd wondered if Evan felt that jolt of lightning buzz through him too.

He'd wondered if Evan would hug him again.

He'd wondered if Evan had “The Brian Feeling”.

Half an hour later, Luke finally arrived on behalf of Delirious, and they were finally all set to order. Brian had taken a seat right next to Evan. The pure contentment he felt as he listened to and bantered with his friends like they'd known each other since birth was something he didn't know he had been sorely missing. He often caught himself staring at Evan, of course. He knew the man was shy, but he just couldn't help himself.

Having actual, physical proof that Evan was a real person, living, laughing, breathing, was a hurdle Brian just couldn't seem to leap. He discreetly attempted to memorize every little thing about his friend. How his chest puffed out when he laughed, how his eyes shimmered when someone addressed him, how his fingers curled around the fork as he ate.

Ok, maybe he had been a bit of a creep at that point. But, he'd also caught Evan staring at him in turn; maintaining eye contact until the younger man broke away. If Brian weren't sitting so close, hell, if the lights were any more dim, he would've missed the way Evan's cheeks tinged red when he was caught staring.

During one of those instances, when Evan looked away with a blush, Brian found Brock looking at him, an eyebrow raised and a knowing smirk plastered on his lips. The man glanced between the irishman and the canadian, widening his smirk when Brian made a face at him.

Near the end of their meal, Brian had rested his palm on the table as he listened to Anthony and Tyler discuss the evening plans. In all honesty, despite wanting nothing more than to spend even more time with his friends, Brian would've killed a man for a room temperature beer and a nice, debatably soft hotel bed to rest his travel weary bones upon. As he pondered his own evening activities (or lack thereof), he had felt something nudge his pinky. Looking down, he found Evan's knuckles settled to the side of his own; pressing against Brian's hand ever so slightly.

They were curled around his now empty glass of soda. Feeling eyes on him, Brian looked up at the face the fingers belonged to. Evan was watching him, assessing his reaction. The irishman had given him a small smile and a shrug, leaving his hand where it was upon the worn, wooden table.

Before they all bid their goodbyes, Brian had managed to jot down the rooms everyone stayed in. Evan had his own room, as did Luke and Craig. Lui and Nogla roomed together, and Marcel, Scotty, Anthony and Tyler all squeezed into a two bed room. Brian had pitied the poor housekeeper who'd be cleaning that crime scene. Brock also had his own room, which is where he called Brian to before he could set foot in his own room.

“Alright, what's the deal with you and Evan?” He'd grilled, crossing his arms. Brian had gone red at the bluntness of that.

“W-what? Nothin’, nothin’, just a bit of banter is all. He's ‘m best friend, Brock.” Brian replied, cursing the sudden stutter. Brock raised a brow at him.

“Uh-huh. Yea, that's why you two haven't stopped staring at each other all night and holding hands, right?” Brock posited. Brian would swear he could've heard a pin drop at that.

“H-hey! We have not been holdin’ hands!” Brian snapped back. Brock had merely raised a brow at his defensiveness.

“Right,” the taller man had said, holding the i for a beat. “Well, just… just don't hurt Evan, ok? He hasn't had anyone like that in a long time. Behave yourself and treat him right, alright?” The older man had almost chastised. Brian remembered burning up at that; at Brock's nonchalance about the complicated relationship between he and Evan.

Brian doesn't remember much after that point, he promised Brock that whatever happened, Evan wouldn't get hurt. At some point he had stumbled back to his hotel room in a daze, heart rattling against his ribcage and echoing in his ears. He passes out in bed shortly thereafter, not even taking his jeans off and barely remembering to discard his shoes.

Of course, he had dreamed of Evan, it was only natural that the canadian would invade his dreams as well.

The next few days had passed with little to no incident. Brian and Evan had all but danced around each other, maintaining eye contact for extended periods of time, playfully flirting, hands resting upon each other for a bit too long. Brock and Tyler had each thrown them knowing glances. Brian hadn't really wondered how Tyler came to the same conclusion that Brock had, maybe they were that obvious after all.

It all culminated at the end of the week, the last night in the hotel. Besides that first night, Brian had found a lost canadian wandering to his room at 9pm on the dot every night. Brian would let him in, and it was just like those Skype calls all over again. They would talk, and talk, and talk, and talk some more until the early morning when Evan would (reluctantly) bid his friend good night.

Brian had so badly wanted to beg him to stay.

The closest they had gotten was on that Wednesday, when Evan had found Mr. Bean playing on one of the hotel tv's channels. They sat next to each other then, slowly slouching down the bed while giving animated commentary over each episode. As the evening had gone on, however, their words slowly escaped out the open window and into the night, leaving the two men in a comfortable silence only broken by a laugh track.

At some point, the two had dozed off, completely lost in their shared bedspace, body heat, and interests. To this day Brian would never know how long they were out for. Maybe it's best they didn't know. He had been awoken however long later by Evan attempting to shimmy out from his grasp. Brian remembers, even in his bleary, sleep riddled state, going bright red at the realization that he had been spooning the younger man, and had done so unknowingly in his sleep.

As always, Evan had looked reluctant to leave, but he did so anyway. Brian didn't take any offense to it, even at the time. Evan was, and always will be, a nervous wreck when it came to emotional waves he couldn't simply tread. Brian knew the feeling, he was just better at hiding it.

After that night, something had definitely changed in the air between them. Brian would never know the cause, but he didn't really need to know. Suddenly, their playful flirting took a sharp, sexual turn. Jokes about slamming headboards, making each other scream, getting all wet and licking each other clean slowly crept into their normal flirtatious comments until it was all they joked about with each other.

That had done nothing to quell the raised brows and narrowed, knowing eyes of Brock, Tyler, and now Marcel, Luke and Anthony. No one ever spoke up about it, and thus, the sexual tension built up to a breaking point that Saturday.

It was bound to happen eventually.

All that tension and barely contained desire spilled over and coated both men in a thick layer of lust after they finally returned to Brian’s room that night. Despite each man having a little to drink that night, they'd both swear up, down, left and right that they were both as clean as someone getting their seven years sober coin at an AA meeting.

It was a flurry of discarded clothes, undone belts, sweat, bedsheets and open-mouthed kisses that, even in his frenzied state, Brian knew meant something deeper than a one night stand. Brian had taken the lead, doing everything in his power to ensure Evan would get nothing but pleasure and satisfaction from the event, his efforts not going unrewarded later on.

To make a long story short, they both came, and their impending relationship was solidified that evening when Evan settled back against Brian's chest, holding the older man's hand and leaving gentle kisses against his palm.

After that, as soon as he returned to Ireland, Brian made plans with Evan to move out to California. Evan already had a house much too big for one person, and he was willing to do everything a man could do to get his boyfriend to live with him.

After many months of moving and cleaning out his small apartment he'd been occupying for the better part of the decade, Brian finally settled into the Fong estate, and reaped all the benefits that came with it. It was the highest point of his life thus far. He had a job he loved, friends he saw regularly, a nice house, a new puppy Evan had gotten him for Christmas, and a loving, doting boyfriend that could not have enough of him.

It was all too good to be true.

And it was. In a way.

The funny thing is, when you're in a constant state of euphoria, the dreaded feeling of misery hits you twice as hard. It all came crashing down one day in 2018. He, Evan and their dog Ghostie sat on the couch, just soaking in and enjoying each other's presence on a day off. An old Batman cartoon filled the silence of the living room, occasionally interrupted by the snores of Ghostie, snuggled against Evan's legs.

Said man was scrolling through his phone, leaned against Brian's chest. He'd been awfully quiet ever since his attention focused on the device. Brian had his arm around him, occasionally sparing glances at the canadian. Sure, Evan was naturally quiet, but this was almost unnerving.

As if Evan could feel the icy blues burning a hole through his head, Evan shifted, nudging Brian gently to get his attention.

“Hey Bri?” He all but murmured.

“Yea, Ev?” Brian responded, squeezing his shoulder slightly. Evan finally glanced up at him, an uncharacteristically nervous look upon his face. Sensing something serious coming, Brian pressed the mute button and turned his full attention to Evan, petting Ghostie as he did so.

“Ah… Have you, uh, seen this um… this thing that Craig posted?” Evan asked, grabbing a handful of the blanket they shared. Brian gave him a wide-eyed look.

“What thing? What'd he say now?” Brian asked, attempting to keep the dislike for his fellow irishman from his voice.

“He just… he posted this big long thing about me on Twitter. He kept saying things like how much of an ego I have and how rude I am. He just, kept bringing up all these things that happened years ago, and it feels like he's trying to make a callout post or whatever.” Evan explained, his ever present flat affect dipping his words in a hint of sadness.

“What? Let me see.” Brian said, holding out his hand. Sure enough, upon scrolling through the ridiculously long post Craig had made earlier that day, Brian saw how he dragged his boyfriend's name through the dirt. Brian saw right through the faux “respectful” tone the irishman had used while airing his grievances with Evan to the public.

Brian seethed with every word he read, the slanderous claims about his beloved further enraging him. No one, and especially not Craig, had any right to make the, frankly, wrong assessments of Evan's character; especially those people who only recorded with his boyfriend once in a blue moon. Even more especially if the person making those assessments had previously stated he wanted to go his own way and make his own career not riding Evan's coattails. Craig was just trying to start shit, both Brian and Evan knew that.

Mutually, the two men agreed that Evan didn't need to defend himself, as the “evidence” Craig posited was circumstantial at best, and flat out, obvious lies at the worst. Evan was never one to acknowledge internet drama anyway, especially that pertaining to him. However, that same principle didn't apply to Brian. After getting the go-ahead from the man who had dozed off on his chest about an hour prior, Brian began typing his defense of Evan.

It was well worded, and even more well received; the general consensus among fans being that people on Craig's side believed him and thought Brian was white-knighting, and the people on Evan's side thought Craig was just trying to start shit for attention. Brian could've never seen the impending snowball speeding down the hill towards him upon hitting send.

Little did he know, that was all Craig needed to go for the throat. Almost immediately, while the couple dozed upon their couch that evening, a vicious storm brewed. Violent waves of accusations and jealousy battered the sides of Brian's boat as he slumbered. Ginormous crests of lies and deception pelted the deck while he was none the wiser. When Ghostie awoke her owner's later that evening because she was hungry, Evan left to feed the fluff ball while Brian finally soaked in all that had transpired while he had been dead to the world.

Brian didn't want to care about the things Craig said, but the man was dragging his name through the mud more publicly and more violently than he had Evan's. It became clear that he wanted to take Brian down through whatever means necessary, refusing to listen to replies from even Nogla and Tyler. A grim, dark cloud formed over Brian’s head that day, drenching him in stress and desolation as everything came crumbling down. For weeks and weeks and weeks the borderline harassment from Craig and his fans gnawed away at Brian, plunging him into the depths of despair.

Unfortunately, the universe seemed to just have it out for him.

Not even two months into the ordeal and Brian was hit by another landmine. He'd been at his desk, stumbling through editing and emails with a can of Monster clutched in his fist. Ghostie was curled up beneath his feet, acting as a footstool for her depressed human. Evan had let him be that day, and Brian appreciated his borderline psychic ability to read him. He loved the man with all his heart and was basically attached at the hip with him, but on a rare occasion, he just needed to be alone.

It had been dark in his office, the only light sources being the monitors and the small Batman night light plugged in near the door. The room lit up ever so slightly, indicating Evan's entrance. He felt the warm hand on his shoulder, trembling ever so slightly as it squeezed once, then twice. Brian looked up at his boyfriend, removing his headphones as he did so.

Evan looked lost, he had a forlorn look in his eyes that even Brian had scarcely seen. The landline was clutched in his other hand, pressed against his broad chest. Evan said nothing as he placed the phone in Brian's hand and wrapped his arms around his torso, pulling his hands into his sleeves as he did so.

Brian raised the phone up to his ear, and he could hear sobs. Those of his sister.

While it was expected, that didn't diminish the way the color drained from his face. It didn't prevent the nausea rising to his throat. It didn't stop the bile pooling in his gut. It didn't stall the molten lava coursing through his veins. It didn't cut-off the cascades of venom rushing from his tear ducts.

What a cruel world to take his father while he was already losing everything else.

Upon hanging up the phone, Brian couldn't breathe for a moment, and then he could. Too much. Everything was too much. The darkness was too much, the monitor light was too much, the air conditioning was too much, the mugginess of the bathroom was too much. Falling to his knees and clutching the porcelain, Brian threw up. He couldn't remember the last time he vomited. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been sick. He couldn't remember the last time he'd hurt like this.

Evan followed him in shortly after as he dry heaved and gasped for air. The room slowly came back into focus as the soothing hand of his beloved gently escorted him back to the surface. He rubbed circles of comfort into Brian's back, retrieving a washcloth from the cabinet to dab along the irishman's forehead when he had no more bile to eject. Evan swiped the washcloth across the man's lips, tossing it into the laundry basket before encasing Brian in a hug.

Brian's face grew hotter as he sobbed into Evan's chest, staining his sweatshirt with salty tears and snot. The younger man also shook as he quietly cried. Evan readjusted them on the bathroom floor so his back was against the bathtub and Brian was in his lap. Neither knew how long they sat like that, cursing the cruel nature of things out of their control.

Days later, and Brian had been keeping up tabs with his mom and siblings as they planned his father's funeral. Not a day passed where Brian wasn't comatosed. He'd snapped at both Evan and Ghostie, locking himself in his office to mald over everything the world had thrown his way since that goddamn tweet was made.

Evan didn't hold it against him, never even rising to the bait of an argument.

Brian, Evan and Ghostie all traveled to Ireland later that month to attend Brian's dad's funeral. The world seemed grey as the service dragged on, the only source of warmth coming from the calloused hand that hadn't let go of his own pale one since they left home. Upon returning to the States two weeks after that, the couple and their pooch slowly endured the grieving process.

Craig was still dragging Brian's name through the dirt almost every day, and many of their friends had moved onto greener pastures. Sure, they all still played together, but lately, it seemed as though everyone not named Nogla or Brock was just too busy to do any sort of co-op game Evan suggested. Brian wasn't as sick as he had been since the news of his father's passing, but he couldn't say he felt better either.

Depressed. Yea, that's what he was.

His (and Evan's) views had tanked since that godforsaken tweet came out. Brian couldn't even look through Twitter for more than a minute before his irritability took over and he had to resist the urge to bite his phone in half. The only times he left his office was to use the bathroom and take Ghostie for her walks. He hadn't seen his bed in weeks, instead sleeping on the loveseat within the room. Evan would bring him food thrice a day, and the man, plagued with his own waning mental health, had taken to setting up both a dog bed and a sleeping bag upon the floor near the loveseat.

As he did this, Brian insisted he go back to their bedroom, or to at least take his place on the loveseat. Of course, Evan refused, ensuring Brian he was fine. Brian would, begrudgingly drop the topic shortly after, falling asleep as Evan stroked his knuckles with his thumb.

On one day, Brian sat in his office, staring at his desktop background while he stewed in his thoughts. He had already recorded 3 videos that day, sent them off to Clyde and Sal to edit, given a thumbs up to his thumbnail artists sketches, and posted a video. Quiet moments like those were dreaded, Brian was his own worst enemy, the little rat inside his brain chewing away at his fortitude.

A warm hand settled upon his shoulder, slowly carding down his bicep and over across his chest, just above his heart. Brian turned to look up at his boyfriend, heart swelling as he did so. A small, scheming smirk was plastered on his lips as his hand trailed along Brian's collarbones. Evan leaned down to connect their lips, a sigh escaping Brian’s nose as they did. It was gentle and chaste, but that didn't last long as Evan spun Brian's chair around to plant his ass upon the irishman's thighs.

Brian rested his hands upon Evan's hips, kneading into the flesh left exposed by his clothing choice. He wore this black, cropped Saliva muscle shirt, and a pair of baggy, grey sweatpants that closed around his ankles. Brian knew precisely what the combination meant, specifically what Evan wanted.

The two broke away and Brian sighed heavily as Evan got to work latching onto his neck. Brian couldn't help the small moan that escaped his throat as Evan nipped a specific spot near his jugular, sucking what would most likely be a gnarly hickey into the spot. Brian could feel the canadian grinning against his throat, grinding down upon the older man's lap. Through both Evan's sweats and his own shorts, Brian felt his dick perking up at the attention after being neglected for months. Evan leaned back, a glazed look in his eyes as he palmed Brian through the cotton.

“Wanna, y'know…” Evan asked, biting his lip as he rubbed small circles against Brian's crotch. The irishman swallowed.

“I don-... I dunno, Ev. I don't really have the energy to…” Brian mumbled, the horrors of not being able to please his lover exploding within his mind. Evan let out an airy chuckle at that.

“Let me take care of it, then. Let me take care of you,” Evan stated, wrapping his arms around Brian's shoulders and pulling him impossibly closer. “Let me take care of you, Brian. Please.” The younger man pleaded, the deep, sultry tone in his voice acting as ambrosia for the man beneath him. Brian swallowed again, giving a small nod. Evan smiled, giving a gentle kiss to his man's cheeks before lifting off Brian's thighs and pulling the man out of his chair at last.

Evan kept their fingers intertwined as he led Brian out of his office and towards their bedroom for the first time in months. The feeling of being out of place in his own home was not lost on the man, taking in how little things had changed during his absence. He was mortified at how neglectful he'd been, not only of his home, but of his family. Evan had been so understanding and patient with his struggles, and Brian had snapped at him more times in the last two months than he had ever in their relationship.

What kind of partner was he?

Brian came to when he felt the backs of his knees hit their bed. Evan gently pushed him down onto the mattress, indicating for him to scooch up to the pillows. He did, and the shorter man crawled on top of him, a seductive smirk gracing his lips and a warm hand cupping Brian's cheeks. They kissed again, and Brian replanted his clammy palms against Evan's hips. He felt Evan’s messy locks fall against his forehead as the canadian deepened the kiss, licking across Brian’s bottom lip. Brian opened his mouth, allowing Evan's tongue to batter his around like a punching bag.

Evan ground down against Brian's crotch again, wrenching a whimper from the irishman's throat. He felt Evan smirk against his mouth before he broke away, a thin trail of saliva connecting their flushed lips. Evan tugged at Brian's hoodie collar, causing him to raise his arms absentmindedly to give his boyfriend some leeway with removing it. While he was into it, Brian found he just couldn't focus. His head was too full of those wicked thoughts that had been plaguing him for half a year at that point.

While he still responded to everything Evan did, he felt like a machine. Giving the desired outcome to specific actions taken. The only indication that this was doing anything for him was the prominent arousal, straining against Evan's navel as he sucked more hickies into Brian's damp, pale flesh. It felt good, of course it did. The intimacy they'd been sharing since that night in the hotel room was something Brian treasured deeply. He treasured everything about Evan deeply.

The way his long, dark locks of hair fell into his eyes, the sparkle of the chocolate brown irises that would always gaze up at him so lovingly. The small, dirt mustache gracing Evan's upper lip. The flush his skin would bare when Brian so much as smiled at him. The dark circles Brian had so badly wanted to kiss away from beneath his eyes. The ever present mischievous smirk that crossed his lips whenever either of them initiated sex. The way his teeth grazed down through Brian's red tinged chest hair, leaving open mouthed, wet kisses all down his torso as he lowered himself further and further. The pace at which he slid the irishman's shorts down his legs, underwear in tow. The way he slowly and deliberately bobbed his head up and down Brian's cock, leaving a generous amount of spit in his wake.

Before he knew it, Evan had released his cock, climbing up onto his thighs once more. The canadian kissed him in a way that exerted so much love and passion that Brian felt his heart ping-pong between his gut and his throat. Evan took his hands in his own, dirty talking the whole time. Any other time, Brian would be taking charge, making his beloved eat his bratty demands and pleas, but Brian could barely hear him over the echoes in his head. As Evan guided his hands to his waistband and down his eternally seductive hips and thighs, Brian listened to those nagging snarls plaguing his eardrums.

“Look at the angel above you,” they growled. “You don't deserve to even be in the same zip code as him. You're not worthy of the pleasures he's given to you. You haven't earned anything.” They howled viciously as Brian watched his angel shimmy out of his sweats.

“You've done nothing but mope for months because of your dead daddy and dying career. You're an awful lover to someone who's done so much for you. Someone who thinks the world of you.” The wretched voices barked while Evan lined himself up with Brian's somehow still attentive cock. He still held that seductive smile upon his face as he gazed so lovingly at Brian. He felt a lump forming in his throat.

“It's a wonder he's still with you after all this time. You've never been good enough for him. You're a pathetic, whiny, one-trick pony. You really think you're worthy of such a being's love?” They snarled. Brian whimpered and threw his head back as Evan finally sank down onto his cock. His warm, slick insides encased Brian like a gun in a velveteen holster. Evan's hands grasped his biceps, digging his nails in gently while he moaned at the feeling of being filled. After only a moment, he began moving his hips, gently bouncing up and down Brian's cock as he worked up to a steady pace.

Finally, Brian pried his eyes open, barely holding back the thrashing river behind them. Above him, glowing in the magenta tinted room, was a divine saint. His gorgeous partner panted slightly as he rode his cock with experience. His heavenly gaze was fixated on Brian's pathetic face, contorted with pleasure and ecstasy. The absolute beauty of his angel made more tears well up behind Brian's tired eyes. The pure, unfiltered love and adoration radiating off of Evan as he kept eye contact with the irishman was almost overwhelming.

“You're not worthy of his love. He's too good for you.” Those ghastly voices hissed in his head. It was too much for Brian to bear, finally being convinced by those thoughts. He flung his head back and swiftly planted his arm against his eyes as the tears finally spilled over. Evan already thought him weak and pathetic, no need to add more fuel to this fire by letting him see him cry.

He felt Evan falter a bit at that, slowing to a tantalizing pace that wrenched a miserable whimper from Brian's throat. He felt Evan's sweaty palm gently grasp his arm to move it from his face, but Brian held firm, even more so as the tears dripped down his cheeks in his hair. He bit his lip and gulped down a sob, causing Evan to stop his movement entirely.

“Bri?” He asked, voice barely above a whisper. Brian shook his head and arm, barely able to contain another sob. In doing so, more pitiful whimpers and whines sounded from his throat, which only spurred his tears on. With both hands, Evan pried his arm from his eyes, taking in the sight of Brian's splotchy, soaked skin. Brian kept his eyes closed, refusing to tarnish his divine creature with his revolting gaze.

What a horrible, loathsome person he was. Ruining his lover's moment of pleasure, making him worry. Brian wasn't worthy of his concern. He was a mere insect in the presence of a being beyond human comprehension. He didn't deserve the gentleness of Evan's calloused fingers cupping his cheeks as he sobbed. He didn't deserve the delicate kisses of his beloved as he leaned down to mouth away his tears.

He didn't earn the cascading love that washed over him as Evan cradled his head to his chest, wiping away excess tears upon his shirt. He didn't deserve the sweet kisses left upon the crown of his head.

He wasn't, and had never been, good enough for Evan.

Yet…

Despite everything, despite all the controversy they'd faced, the loss of loved ones, the strains their relationship was facing, and the prison cells each of their minds had become, Evan was still here with him. Doing everything in his power to love someone who had convinced himself he was unlovable at the snap of a finger.

After a while, the sobs died in his throat, raw from the emotional toll. His tears still fell, but not as a downpour. They were more akin to a gentle drizzle, one that would signal the end of a typhoon. At some point, Brian had clutched a handful of Evan's shirt into his fist. The fabric was damp with sweat, from both men most likely.

“I love you so much, Bri,” Evan spoke, breaking the silence. “I love you more than I can ever show you.” He mused, resting his forehead against Brian's own. Brian gulped down another sob, one of those nagging voices sinking it's teeth into Brian's brain stem once more; growling out doubts of Evan's claims, trying to turn his thoughts back to the wicked ones that had infested his mind.

But Evan shooed it away with ease, connecting their lips for a deep, meaningful kiss. Brian whimpered at it, at the way Evan just so unabashedly, unashamedly loved him so easily.

Too soon, Evan broke away and began lifting himself off of Brian's dick, grimacing as he did so. In a moment of panic, Brian grasped his thighs, stopping the canadian in an instant.

“We don't have to keep going.” Evan said, tracing his thumb over Brian's knuckles.

“No, no. Please, Ev. Please keep goin’. I… Please.” Brian begged, doing himself no favors by sounding any less pathetic. Evan cocked his head to the side and smiled at him, raising a brow as he leaned down to breathe Brian's air once more.

“Alright.” He murmured, pecking Brian's lips before he sat up again and slowly but surely returned to his pace.

Brian kept his hands upon his boyfriend's thighs, watching in wonder as the man skillfully rode his cock as he had many times in the past. Brian rubbed circles into the strong legs that snared his waist, finally feeling no shame for his moans as Evan almost parroted his sounds of pleasure.

Brian felt his orgasm building up, and he was sure Evan knew it too, based on the way the irishman's hips bucked up to meet with Evan's downward thrusts. Evan threw his head back to relieve the hair from his eyes. He trailed his hands up and down Brian's chest, tangling his fingers in his chest hair and grazing his nipples. Brian almost came at that moment, and made the split second decision to take Evan's leaking cock into his hand and begin stroking.

The younger man moaned like a professional pornstar at that, which sent Brian over the edge at last. Evan followed closely behind, spilling over Brian's fist and stomach as the older man coated his insides in hot spurts of cum. After a moment where they each caught their breath, Evan finally pulled off of Brian's dick, which flopped between his legs after being spent. The canadian made quick work of Brian's lips, kissing him until they were raw and swollen.

Normally, Brian would be the one kissing Evan's lips until they were bruised, but having his boyfriend do it to him was a welcome change. Evan finally rolled off of him after having his fill (for the moment). He climbed off the bed, slightly limping as he toddled to the bathroom, which Brian took great pride in being the cause. When he returned, he ran a damp washcloth over Brian's belly, cleaning the spunk and sweat from his flesh. Evan tossed it over his shoulder and gracefully chambered back onto the mattress.

He nudged Brian until the taller man rolled over onto his side, allowing Evan to slot in behind him and bury his face into his pale back. Much like Evan had during their first time together, Brian took Evan's palm between his fingers and planted tender kisses along every line and callous.

“I love you, Brian. Don't ever think that I don't. No matter what happens, I love you, unconditionally.” Evan spoke up from behind him, flexing his fingers against Brian's mouth.

Something clicked in his head at that word.

Unconditionally.

Brian had always had a fear of commitment. It's what encouraged his one-night stands in his younger years. It's what kept him awake at night, long before any sort of shit hit the fan. It's something that darkened his thoughts as he stewed alone in the dark, answering emails.

But, in that very moment, the fear vanished. Like it had never even been there. All that remained was the adoration he felt for his beloved boyfriend. The man who was slowly dozing off behind him. The man who convinced him he was lovable. The man who declared his unconditional love for him. The man who understood him like no one else before.

“Ev, will ye marry me?” Brian blurted out, heart hammering away at his ribcage and trachea. Evan didn't stiffen, he didn't tense, he didn't move a muscle. Instead, Brian felt him exhale and press a kiss to his bare back.

“Mm yea, sure,” he mumbled sleepily, barely containing a yawn. “Just ask me again tomorrow so I don't forget.” He said, words muffled by Brian's back and Evan's slowly departing consciousness.

Brian's skin was set ablaze at that. Even if he'd have to ask again when Evan was fully awake and aware of what was being asked of him, there was no longer any doubt in his mind that his answer would remain the same. Giddy like a little kid in a Toys-R-Us, Brian settled back against Evan's chest, loosening his shoulders and intertwining their fingers in the process.

He closed his weary eyes, and was greeted by colorful dreams of a fairy tale wedding best suited for his angel.

He finally felt better.

~~~~

“Bri, Brian. Bri, wake up.” Evan whispered, nudging him awake. Peeling his eyes open, Brian squinted at the outline of his boyfr- fiancé in the dark of their bedroom.

“Yea, wha, what. Wha’s wrong?” He slurred out as his mouth woke up slowly.

“Ghostie got into your laundry basket again. She's got a pair of your boxers in the living room.” Evan snickered, smirking as Brian's eyes flew open wide and he scrambled to get out of bed.

“Oh god dammit! Ghostie! You slut! Gimme my damn underwear!” Brian cried, chasing the samoyed thief down the hallway.

Evan leaned against the wall, watching his irishman re-enact a Tom and Jerry skit with their dog, who almost strategically dodged Brian's hands as he grabbed for his boxers. She was a professional underwear robber at that point. As Brian cursed the ball of fluff, who almost taunted her owner with defiant huffs and barks, Evan laughed, to Brian's dismay.

He was glad he'd said yes. He could live like this for the rest of his life.

[mrsandok]

"Bye, Toby."

I had to say goodbye to my cat of 15 years on Wednesday, August 21, 2024. It was 9 days before his 18th birthday/adoption day.

I tried my best to prepare for this moment ever since I had the growth in his mouth looked at on May 2, 2024. 

This wasn't my normal vet–it was a vet that I rushed to because I thought it was an inflamed tartar gum issue–it turns out it was likely mouth cancer and to be prepared to say goodbye to my 17-year-old cat by the end of the month.

Leaving the vet's office was pretty rough knowing this stranger vet was completely willing to put down Toby that day. The thought of going to a vet's office with my cat and leaving without him was simply unacceptable. Especially with my girlfriend at work and thinking we were going to resolve this issue before our trip to Hawaii.

My heart sank at the news–which was especially troubling since I was SO excited to start my new job the day before this. I had to balance my happiness and sadness and stay strong for myself, Toby, and Chy.

I sobbed the first half of the way home. It was a surreal type of cry. It started as a normal sob from devastating news. Then they legitimately turned to happy tears knowing how fucking happy he's made me in these 15 years.

I was always proud of telling people about Toby’s age. He’s been my live-in partner for all the important chapters of my life.

Here is a not-so-brief summary of those chapters:

2009

I learned about Munchkin cats and was casually looking through Craigslist to see if there were any around me. I was still living at my parents’ house, but I couldn’t pass up an opportunity when I saw a free adoption of a Munchkin cat in the next city over. I didn’t tell my parents, knowing I didn’t want to give them an option to say no. Plus, I had just finished my undergrad–I wanted to have some new agency over my life.

I met Toby at this woman’s house. I think she bred munchkin cats and corgis. Everyone had short legs. Maybe even her. Hahah.

Mind you, I don’t think I’ve ever held a cat or pet one for more than 10 seconds. I’ve only interacted with friendly and not-so-friendly dogs. 

She asked me if I had a carrier for him, and I said my friend planned to hold him on the way home.

She laughed and said, “Here’s a carrier. You can leave it on my porch when you're done with it.”

I wanted to know his name and if I would change it if I didn’t like it.

She told me his name was Toby, and I immediately approved. Maybe because I was such a huge fan of Toby’s character on The Office.

She told me one of his favorite things is hanging out on beds. She put him on the bed and clipped his nails.

I pet him as he was laying there and he bit me.

I was a bit shocked, and she just shrugged it off, “Oh–that’s a play bite.”

The reason why there wasn’t an adoption fee was that a raccoon attacked him, and he was having trouble recovering because the other pets in the house were picking on him.  Which may have resulted in why he bit me in the first place. Haha

Taro was with me, and we took him to his parents’ house. His mom has always loved animals and would be excited to see his tiny little legs.

I took my first two photos of my new cat at Taro’s house.

I think I texted my other friends to meet my new cat at my parents’ house. 

He came out of the cage and ran under the couch.

I kept repeating, “This is bad–real bad, Michael Jackson.” a-la that Kanye feature that was popular at the time knowing I was trying to keep my cat a secret.

I finally wrangled him and brought him to my bedroom. He immediately hid underneath my bed and stayed there.

I was pretty stressed and not used to a new cat’s understandable reclusive behavior.

I can’t find the original email, but I remember emailing the person I adopted him from that night and her assuring me it was all normal.

Later that night, I woke up to him on my chest, inches away from my face meowing at me. It's a memory I hold dearly in my heart.

We bonded instantly and quickly replicated each other’s personality–that is, wanting but also picky with our affection.

Hey Jessi,

Toby is doing well.  His neck cuts are healing well.  His back and ear cuts are healing nicely, as well.  However, I noticed he's developed a bump on his nose that doesn't seem to be going away.  Do you know anything about these?  Also, do you have any recommendations for a vet?  Possibly the one where you took Toby before.  Thanks!

EJ

Toby was the one possession I had that made me feel like an adult after graduating from undergrad. I didn’t have a career plan after. I just had an English and Philosophy degree. Getting my teaching credential was monumental for me and I had to continue to live at home to support myself. 

Toby gave my bedroom in my parents’ house the feeling of living in a 10’x10’ New York apartment. Sure, I was jealous of people that had their shit together more than me. I didn’t know that comparison was the theft of joy at the time, but if I did know that–no one, no pet, not a single thing could compare to the love Toby and I had for each other. 

August 13, 2014

I accepted a job at Arcadia High School. I have never been to the San Gabriel Valley and never imagined myself living there.

Even though I was 40 miles away, I still felt very far from my friends and family. It was hard to say goodbye to my nieces, who were 4 and 2 at the time, knowing I wouldn’t be able to see them grow up daily.

Toby was my only constant. I was excited that he’d finally have a bigger living space he can call his own.

And own, he did. I barely remember him in that apartment because he was so independent and aloof. He’d only get affection when he wanted it. That was probably on the couch when I was watching TV or when I was in bed sleeping.

I was also aloof. Taking naps after work and keeping a night-owl lifestyle. During my first year at Arcadia, I was invited to be the Friday resident DJ at Mesa. I tried bringing Toby back home to Orange County every weekend but man, he sure hated it. He would meow loudly from the start of the car ride to the very end.

He was still eating grain-free kibble at the time and I was able to keep him satisfied until I came back on Sunday when I would be away.

I still remember the dirty looks he’d give me when I returned after being gone for 48 hours. He’s not like a dog that misses its owner and is ecstatic at the first sight of me. He's a sassy cat who would give me the stink eye and then come up to me for affection and pets.

I was super protective over him leaving the house. I was in the literal foothills and was scared of coyotes. I was also just scared of him running away and not coming back.

When I’d have to let my landlord in, I’d have to put him in the bathroom with food and a litter box. I’m sure he hated that but I made sure that the landlord let him out after he was done.

I still feel bad for those few hours he had to be stuck in a bathroom.

We had a pretty normal life at that Sierra Madre apartment. He had a few surgeries to remove benign tumors. One time, they forgot to remove the tight tourniquet on his paw and his paw quadruoupeld in size. I really regret not having a photo of that knowing it was as big as his head. Haha.

July 5, 2019

I moved to South Pasadena. Toby spent the first night in my new apartment without me knowing I’d be moving out my stuff at my old apartment, and there wasn’t any point in having him caged up that long.

When I say he’s owned every apartment I’ve rented–I mean it. These are his spaces, and it was my job to make him feel as comfortable as possible.

We were apartment hunting for a while. My criteria were: top floor, private patio or balcony, and a garage for my lowrider. We didn’t get the top floor; nevertheless, Toby had his first unsupervised time outside for the first time in ten years. 

Oh man, he loved it. He loved basking in the sun, lying on the outdoor chaise, and hiding underneath it.

 

One of my favorite memories was him being protective over his house when a kitten made their way to our patio. I heard him hissing LOUDLY from my bedroom. I then heard a loud THUMP from him trying to break through the glass to attack the kitten.

When I finally came out to see what was going on, I saw Toby as aggressive as I’ve ever seen him. I tried to touch him to calm him down and he hissed at me. I’ve never been more offended by my cat. Haha.

We’ve had a wonderful life in this apartment. I had my rotation of house-sitters that also fell in love with my aging affectionate cat.

In May 2023, he started showing his age. 

He would meow incessantly all night, and I couldn’t figure it out.

I thought it was senility. I thought it was just general restlessness.

Turns out he’s tired of dry kibble and wants wet food. A new thing for him.

---

Toby was one of the first icebreakers I had with my girlfriend. I sent her a picture of my apartment, and she replied, “Tell me more about that cat!”

Of course, I loved the opportunity to talk about my beloved Toby and loved showing her his tiny legs and the tattoo I have of him dressed up as Michael Jackson. 

My girlfriend met Toby for the first time on July 28, 2023. Toby has always been moody, but he was definitely less standoffish by this time.

Chy officially moved in on January 13, 2024. This was the first time I had lived with someone other than my family. My only other roommate for the past 15 years was Toby.

Chy was an absolute dream to Toby. She would do this, where she would top his breakfast, lunch, and dinner with bonito flakes. He was definitely spoiled. 

There was this underlying feeling of guilt, knowing I never spoiled Toby like Chy did. However, I quickly got over it, knowing that Chy spoils me as much as she spoils our cat. Since Toby fully adopted my personality at this point, I know he loved it and loved her back for it.

--

March - April 2024

Toby was entertaining us with his new senior behaviors. Chy was able to teach him how to click. He also had this habit of sticking out his tongue a la Dogpool.

He still had his favorite spots to sit; nevertheless, he was exploring the entire apartment for new spots. Some of the newer ones included the south-east dining chair, in between the TV and coffee table, and anywhere next to me.

I spend a lot of time on the computer. He would meow looking up at me. I would put him on a rolling cabinet or another chair. He’d like it–until he didn’t, so he would jump off and walk away. Haha.

May 2024

It all happened so fast. My normal house-sitters weren’t available and after his likely-cancer diagnosis, we definitely wanted someone to spend some one-on-one with Toby. Luckily, I was able to find someone that went above-and-beyond my expectations. My housesitter left the cameras on when he wasn’t in my apartment so we could still check up on him.

As much as we enjoyed our Hawaii vacation, we were really happy to be back home with Toby.  

As much as we loved to travel, spoiling Toby as much as we can was our main priority.

My vet said that he may only have a month left where his quality of life is worth living. We took that to heart and carefully tracked his good days and bad days.

Toby was more affectionate than ever. Probably because he knows his days are numbered and didn’t want to be alone in his senior years.

June - August 2024

We spent all summer spending money on cat food, turkey and ham slices, bonito flakes, medicine, and pee pads to accommodate our aging boy.

His tumor was getting bigger, yet he was still affectionate as ever and seemed at peace with his new normal.

Chy and I knew we were looking for signs that he was ready to go, and we were never comfortable ending his suffering as long as he still looked happy and content to be spoiled by us.

The Hardest Week of my Life

Sunday, August 18, 2024

My sister has been trying to make her way up to Pasadena to visit Toby, knowing his days are numbered. My parents were originally supposed to come, but coordinating with them is close to impossible.

In all honesty, Chy and I haven’t had many guests over, knowing Toby’s condition was getting worse. He didn’t look the same and was having trouble using the litterbox. We constantly had to clean up for him and it was our normal–we were never quite ready to showcase our new normal to other people.

By this time, Toby was losing a lot of weight, and his hindlegs would give out. He could still walk, but it was slow and swayed. He was still visiting us in our room, but he didn’t have the strength to jump on the bed.

I’m not sure what day it was, but he was really vocal of wanting to be with us in bed. It’s a memory I’ll cherish forever. He was sandwiched between Chy and me and just embraced being loved. He was so at peace–until he wasn’t and wanted to be let down. Haha.

Monday, August 19, 2024

We continued to spoil Toby, encouraging him to stand up and walk around for exercise. It was really hard for him, but he was still affectionate and lively.

Tuesday, August 20, 2024

Things took a turn for the worse on the day Chy and I both had to be away from home. Chy’s favorite memories of coming home by herself is being greeted by Toby at the door with loud and needy meows. 

He didn’t have that energy anymore. He was lethargic, in need of a bath because his lack of control over his body fluids. Chy gave him a bath and he…wasn’t looking good. 

When I came home, I saw his old self loving our company yet struggling to be fully there. He wanted to be by us, and he loved it when we petted him and scratched his ear, but his energy definitely seemed different. 

Our last night with him we stayed at the dining table with a fan on him while Chy and I played Song Quiz on Amazon Alexa.

Toby stayed there the entire night and Chy and I went to bed.

Chy would check on him, knowing she saw him in his worst state, and would report back, saying his face was worrisome. As if he were scared, he wouldn’t make it through the night. 

Wednesday, August 21, 2024

We were counting the days to his Birthday/Adoption Day, August 30, 2024. He would’ve been around 18 at the time. We knew we wanted to give him yellowtail collar, one of his favorite foods he loved to share with us.

Though Chy and I didn’t talk about it directly, we both acknowledged we’re going to have to put him to sleep sooner rather than later, knowing he can’t go on living like this–especially with a busy schedule coming up.

Chy suggested I get the frozen Yellowtail Collar and I did. We’re celebrating his birthday–just a week early.

I had to run some errands away from home and came home to see Toby in the same state Chy saw him in the previous day.

It was tough. I wiped him as best I could and tried to get him to stand on his feet but he couldn’t.

I fed him milk and water and sat next to him while I looked up in-home euthanasia options. I asked /r/pasadena Reddit and my internet neighbors were really thoughtful and compassionate. 

As I gathered quotes, Chy bathed Toby and said it was the worst she’s ever seen or felt him. He had no energy to fight his discomfort in the water.

While helping dry him, I felt how weak his hind legs have gotten in the past two days. There was no way he could hold himself up from this point on.

The earliest appointment was the following morning. I replied that we’re not sure he would make it then. He said he could be there in 40 minutes. 

Chy said she can’t make that decision and it has to be on me.

It was on me.

I broke down the hardest I’ve broke down knowing that the day is finally here. Toby finally gave us signs he’s ready to go. The love and affection is still there. But his quality of life vanished in the span of 16 hours. 

It was time. 

We put him on the couch. He was laying on his favorite blanket that Chy’s sister gifted her. We were petting him as we counted the longest 40 minutes of our lives knowing that our lives will drastically change in the next hour.

The Doctor was very compassionate to our situation. I tried my best to be stoic and accepting asking questions that would help put me at ease. 

He let us take all the time we needed to say our final goodbyes. Chy sat behind me as I watched Toby pass peacefully into the early night.

It was peaceful. Though I wish his eyes could close, it helped me realize that that blank stare, the one that he was giving us in the past 24 hours, was his sign to use that he was ready to go.

The memory that’s causing me to cry as I write this is reliving my actions while he was peacefully passing.

I kept saying, “Bye, Toby. Bye, Toby. Bye, Toby. Bye, Toby. Bye, Toby. Bye, Toby. Bye, Toby. Bye, Toby.” an uncountable number of times.

I couldn’t stop saying it. I wanted to feel the goodbye. But I was still so numb and upset. I was so shook that my life from there on out would be without him.

Every time I left my apartment, I would say, “Bye, Toby,” knowing I would be back in a few hours. 

These two words. These three syllables. Were. So. Important. To. Me.

They were important to me because I knew I’d come home and see him again. This time, it was permanent. 

Bye, Toby.

---

The grieving process is incredibly uncomfortable. Nevertheless, I’m learning about myself and how lucky I am to have Chy by side during all of this. I’ve always known how lucky I was to have Toby. I’m even luckier to have the lifetime of memories he’s given me.

After he passed, Chy and I scrubbed the apartment of his things knowing reminders of him would be hard. I even washed the sofa sheets knowing his drool, fur, and scent would be hard for us to take. 

While these actions were inevitable, it made it just as hard knowing the apartment felt and now looked empty without him.

---

I’m still a Buddhist and try to live by stoic principles alongside it. It helps me be proactive rather than reactive. However, it’s hard not to fall into older patterns of escape and coping mechanisms.

I was processing the loss of my best friend of 15 years. I was able to stop sobbing somewhere along the way. And in those moments, I was able to update my friends and family about what happened. I reached out to everyone and thanked them for loving him as much as I loved him.

I was also sitting with Chy, knowing we could now travel and should do something with our Southwest Companion Pass. We also had plans to revisit her family in Utah at an unknown date.

In retrospect, I was trying my best to “be happy in the future” to escape the pain I was feeling in the now.

Chy went to bed and I went through photo albums so I can post on IG. Coincidentally, I posted 18 photos, the age Toby was when he passed. 

I disabled comments knowing that I don’t really want to sift through people’s condolences. I simply wanted to remember my best friend through select photos and videos.

Thursday, August 22, 2024

Chy and I were still processing it, understandably. Chy felt an unreasonable sense of guilt, knowing that I’m mourning my cat even though she’d only known him a year. She felt that she should be stronger, but I reassured her that I loved that we were able to have a little family in my apartment on a hill.

She told me she was jealous I could share memories of Toby with my friends and family, but she didn’t have that. That feeling just made her feel even more alone after his passing. 

That morning I broke down when I opened google Photos knowing that’s the final act of his passing. I’m backing up the photos I found to put on Instagram so I can free my phone of space. 

That’s when I started reliving my “Bye, Toby,” rant and it just floored me all over again that he’s gone.

---

Present

I’m still sad. So fucking sad. But I’m definitely at peace knowing that, during those last 20 hours, my sweet and affectionate Toby was barely recognizable. It was time, and I’m thankful for the lifetime of memories he’s given me.

Chy, Buddhism, Stoicism, and my cherished memories of Toby make the grieving bearable. 

I’ll never forget the love Chy gave my cat and I’ll never forget how lucky I am to have her as a life partner.

Buddhism reminds me that attachment is the root of all human suffering. I’m sad because I’m attached to my life with Toby before his passing.

Stoicism reminds me to accept the things I can’t control and be mindful of the things within my control. Nothing lasts, and I’m simply here for the ride.

I’ve given this advice to countless people, including friends, family, and former students. It’s another thing to put it into practice.

Though it hurts, I should be present in the moment and grateful for what I have. Memories are simply that–memories. My future happiness is contingent on the choices and decisions I make in the present. 

I love you, Toby. You’re more than a memory. You’re permanently part of me.

[vroomvroommbtch]

This - DR x fem!reader

Masterlist

Summary: She has always been there for him, no matter how bad the circunstances were, so this time wasnt going to be different.

Pairing: Daniel Ricciardo x fem!reader

Warnings: fluffiness all over the place and a teeny tiny bit of sadness. 

Word count: 4.3k

A/N: Yes, posting twice the same night. Call it a gift for Monza anniversary(?) Anyway, can’t really focus on much lately, too stressed and blabla, so I wrote this bc I needed some kind of cuteness. Gonna back to regular Irish-Aussie soon, I promise. Hope u like it and see you soon, kiddos 🫶🏻

This.

She knew it was bad. She knew how bad it was, but the second Michael texted her she knew it was terrible. A short and simple 'Andreas just told him he's out. Don't say anything. He's planning to tell you later' made her heart ache so much that she had to stop for a second and take a deep breath. But when she exhaled, the air out of her lungs brought with it tears to her eyes.

Daniel didn't deserve that. He didn't deserve to be treated like that. He was working his ass off inside and outside the track. He was doing everything humanly possible to make things work with Mclaren, but it simply didn't click and how it hurt. There was nothing that hurt as much as seeing her best friend struggling like that. There was nothing that hurt as seeing how the people who were supposed to have his back were just destroying him publicly week after week.

And to make it worse, she wasn't there. She was home in Perth and there was nothing that she wanted more than to be by Daniel's side, but life, distance, obligations, work and everything in between were always in the middle. But that day she didn't care. 'Can u book me a ticket to LA? I gotta see him' was all she texted back to her friend as she ran to her room to grab a suitcase and fill it with her things as fast as possible.

Michael, bless his soul, didn't say no. He booked her a flight for the next day at midday, giving her enough time to fix her things at work and life in general, and then go to the airport. But the worst part wasn't waiting for the time to pass that night not being able to sleep or to wait at the airport, the worst part was talking to Daniel.

He called her as soon as he was at his airport in London. He called her after he called his parents, knowing he was going to spend more time on the phone with her, just because he needed to get distracted before going to bed. And that's exactly what they did, they talked about the race and Mclaren and what happened, but then they talked about everything and then some, but they never got to touch the 'work' subject again. He didn't want to be the Daniel racing driver, or to even talk about work, so they didn't.

But even when he laughed at her silly comments and even when he made jokes, she knew something wasn't right. She could hear it in his voice, but she especially noticed for the fact that Daniel didn't facetimed her. She knew her well enough to know there was a reason why he didn't do it. He always said he would rather see her face and hear her voice, but when he just called was because she was avoiding her seeing him.

In the very bad days he would just call her so he wouldn't get worried about the look on his face and that was just another of those days. But one of the worst parts of their talk wasn't how sad he sounded, but the fact that she had to lie to him. She told him she was trying to take some time off work to go see him in the second half of the season but that meanwhile he needed to go and have fun with the boys in LA. She told Daniel to tell Blake to take care of him while she wasn't there. She told him not to worry because he was going to figure it out like he always did. But the worst thing was their goodbyes. The soft 'Love you. See you soon, babe' broke her heart even in more pieces. It took everything from her to say 'Love you too, Dan' as the knot took over her throat. It took everything from her to say she really loved him and not just like friends.  

Those were the longest hours of her life. A twenty hours flight that seemed eternal because all she wanted to do was finally hug Daniel and tell him that everything was going to be fine. Even if it was a lie, she needed to say it because it was her job as her friend. It has been her job since they were kids, so she had to do it one more time. That was the only thing on her mind the whole trip. That was the only thing on her mind. That and how that plane needed to hurry up and how she wished she could get some sleep and how she was going to fall asleep after she got to hug Daniel.  

The plane didn't hurry and she didn't sleep, but more than one day after Michael texted her and God knew how many after she got to the airport, she finally made it to LAX, finding Blake waiting for her exactly like they arranged. Since Daniel had no idea she was there, Blake texted her to let her know he was picking her up to take her to Daniel's house. All she knew was he had invented some excuse to go out and pick her up. The rest of the conversation in the car was about their friend and how he was doing, and she just got more worried when Blake said a 'Not good' as soon as she asked about Daniel. 'You're here now, so he's gonna be alright' were the exact words that Blake said and they left her looking out onto Los Angeles' streets through the windows of the car, not really knowing what to do. Daniel missed her and she missed him, that was obvious because they were friends. She also missed Blake and Michael, but there was something in the way Blake said it that left her thinking. But she threw those thoughts off her head as soon as they came, because that wasn't what she or Daniel needed. Not in that moment. Not in the worst moment of his career. No when her focus needed to be another one.  

The write from the airport from his house seemed eternal that afternoon, but once they arrived she was an absolute mess between terror, sadness and anxiety. She was so anxious of seeing him after three months and she was terrified of his reaction, no matter how many times Blake affirmed and insisted that Daniel was going to be happy. But her biggest doubt was if Blake's idea of how surprised Daniel was good. Blake insisted the best way was just to keep it simple, so ringing the bell was the best, and that was exactly what she did. As Blake took care of her bags, she walked to the door, rang the bell and waited by the front door. They knew Daniel was there because there were no plans to go out considering they got there earlier that day. In fact, some of his and Blake's friends were going to come over to have dinner there that night, so she didn't have much time to have Daniel for herself.

But she didn't have time to think about that. She didn't have time to think as she heard the door opening and suddenly Daniel was right in front of her. He looked tired. The bags under his eyes were so visible it was scary, his curls were a disaster, his shirt was all wrinkled and he looked tired. He looked like life was sucked out of him but the second he looked at her everything changed. His whole face lightened up and a huge smile appeared on his face, even if it looked like he really didn't believe she was there. A soft and very broken 'Are you really here?' was all they both needed to hug each other and remember that yes, it was real. He lifted her from the floor, his around her waist, her own around his neck and for a moment there were no problems, no Mclaren, no racing, no work, no anything. Even if for just a second it was nothing but them almost melting in each other as Daniel spoke away. But that second time it wasn't a question, it was an affirmation, it was a simple 'You're here' and seemed like it brought the sparkle back into him. She could even feel his shoulders relax as if some immense weight had just disappeared from his shoulder. And if it didn't disappear, at least she was there to share it with him.  

Once Daniel hugged her, he barely let her go of his side. In fact, the only time she got to be alone was when she took a shower, and she hated it. After three months of not seeing his face and of not hearing his ridiculous contagious laugh and his terrible bad jokes, she wanted to get absolute sick of him. She wanted to get tired of Daniel, especially not knowing that she was going to see him again. Especially when she knew it was gonna be some months till she saw him again. But she couldn't drag him to the shower -no matter how much she wanted- so she did everything as fast as possible and went back to his side. For the rest of the night and the whole dinner, Daniel was stick to her hip.  

Even if his friends were there, if she was going to the kitchen, Daniel would go with her. If she went to the bathroom, she would have to stop him and remind him that it was fine and that she wasn't going to get lost no matter how big the house was. Then he would rest his arm around her shoulders when they were sitting together at the table, or around her waist as they were sitting on the couch. Maybe he would just place his hand on her leg or grab her hand to play with her fingers. It was normal for them after a lifetime of being friends. It was normal when touches and hugs were Daniel's love language with the people he loved.

It was normal and fine, but deep down she was dying. Every time his big brown shinny eyes would look at her, she could feel her heart exploding. Every time his head would rest against her shoulder, all she wanted to do was hug him forever and hide him from the rest of the world. She wanted to protect him from every single bad thing that existed. She wanted to shield him from Mclaren, the press, the comments and all the bullshit from outside. She wanted to look after the boy who she knew when she was ten years old. Maybe the problem was that somehow, for her, Daniel was still that little ten years old boy with a big smile and thick brown curls. Maybe the problem was she never saw that little boy so beaten, even when he was standing tall and with his head high no matter what.

That was the reason why she needed to step out on one of the balconies of the house, even when everyone was still inside. It was too overwhelming. Even when Daniel was all smiling and laughing with his friends, she knew him. She could see how under that big smile he was wounded. Eighteen months of suffering and just counting good moments were too much for anyone, even for a fighter like Daniel. It has been too much and she was hurting too for seeing her favorite person suffering so damn. It hurt to see the man she loved hurting like that.

She took a sip of wine and a deep breath right after, trying to get rid of the knot in her throat before she decided to go back. She needed to get rid of it before Daniel came out of the bathroom. But she didn't have much time to do it, because before the second sip, she felt an arm snaking around her waist, bringing her close to his side.

"Are you running away from me, kiddo?" Daniel asked, a lazy smile on his face as a mix of tiredness and some few extra glasses of wine finally made an effect on him.

"Not in a million years, you crazy thing" she smiled back, resting her head on his shoulder. "I was just enjoying the view and taking some air. Too much testosterone inside"

There were uncountable things she loved about Daniel, but one of her favorite was when he laughed besides her. It was always this contagious feeling that automatically made her smile or laugh too. And that's exactly what happened that night. The silly little comment made him laugh and she couldn't help but smile too, simply because he was happy for one damn night.

"Yeah, you're right about that. And its a cool view" Daniel nodded. But what took her by surprise was that, as if it was a very cheesy movie, Daniel said those five last words while looking down at her, kissing her forehead as soon as he finished speaking.

'He can't be talking about you, you muppet' was all her head was yelling as she looked up to him, closing her eyes for a second as his lips touched her skin, secretly wishing he would touch every single inch of her. Just thinking about that left her breathless, so she had to take another sip of wine to be able to speak again. "I mean, I don't know if I would have paid what you paid for this place, but who I am to talk, I still pay rent with my 9 to 5 job's salary" she joked, shrugging as she looked at the night sky.

"I offered you millions of times to fix that issue!"

"I don't want you to buy me an apartment! You're my best friend. You're my Danny, I don't give two shits about the job and the money that comes with it. You could still be in Perth being a waiter as when we were kids and I'd love you the same. Besides I'm still mad about you and my car"

She couldn't count how many times Daniel tried to convince him to let her buy an apartment of a house for her to live in. She couldn't count how many times he used the 'investment' excuse, saying she could live there for free and not worry about anything. And just like she couldn't count the times he offered that; she couldn't count the times she said no. The last thing she wanted was for people to think she was taking advantage of Daniel's money. She never ever did, not at the begging and not now, so she refused every single time. What she also said no was to Daniel buying her a car, but this time he won. Considering it was way easier than buying her a place to leave, he took the advantage and did it without saying a thing. He did it and one day he picked up in a brand-new car that later she found out it was all hers. She was still mad at him for it, but damn, how much she loved him for that gesture.

"Hey, buying you a new decent car was the least I could do. It was a payback for using your savings for the Ricciardo cause. You gave me your savings after months of working your ass off to buy a car and I won't ever forget that"

"It was an investment too" she shrugged again, acting like it wasn't a big deal. Back there it was an easy choice and one that she never regretted. Daniel going to Europe to give it a try on his dream was way more important than buying her dream car. Giving him the money when she knew he needed every single cent was a fast decision, but she never made a big deal of it. "I knew you were going to make it a pay me back"

"The only thing I can pay back are the tears I made you cry back then" he murmured, and when she looked up, Daniel wasn't looking at her anymore. His eyes were focused on the horizon, but she didn't need to look at him to know that was happening in his head. The guilt was still there even after years and there it was, coming at the worst moment.

But she knew a remedy for all of that. She knew something that would help him even in such a shitty moment. There was nothing a hug couldn't fight, so she hugged Daniel, resting her head against his shoulder as she moved her fingers up and down his back, trying to make him relax. "Don't bring that up, Danny, c'mon. We were seventeen, you expected me to not cry? I was worried sick about you. Who was gonna look after your skinny ass? You couldn't cook shit even if your life was depending on it. You still can't"

"Yeah, you're right, but there's no need to say it like that" he affirmed, kissing her forehead a couple times as he spoke. It was then when she felt Daniel hug her a bit tighter, squeezing her waist as he brought her closer to his body.

"You know the rules, I'm a pain in your still skinny ass till i get back. That's how we roll. I do it so you miss me when I'm away" she joked, but deep down it wasn't s joke. It wasn't a joke at all.

"Maybe I don't have to miss you that much"

She could feel her jump skipping a beat and almost leaving her body as she heard those words. She even moved apart to look at Daniel when she heard those words. She moved away from him, and took as step back to look at him, but her hands didn't move from his waist as they held his shirt for dear life. "What are you talking about, Dan?"

"I've been talking with some teams, but I've also been thinking about a sabbatical. Take a year, recharge and then go back in 2024. Its not the first or the best option but-" he explained shortly, but before he could keep talking, she interrupted him.

"There's no 'but'. You ain't leaving. You're Daniel fucking Ricciardo. There's no way you won't find a damn seat for next year. I know it hasn't been easy, but- You can't quit. That's not you"

And how her heart broke with the view in front of her. It was like suddenly the light was taken out of Daniel. The frown appeared again and the smile just felt, making him look nothing but sad and worried, which destroyed her. That's why she decided to let go of his shirt and reach his face with her right hand to stroke his cheek as carefully as possible. And just like her heart broke, it also melted when Daniel leaned against her hand, like if he was letting all the worries disappear with her touch.

"But what if I wanna take some time off? What if I wanna do what I always wanted to do but I never could?" Daniel asked, and it was just a simple question but so complicated at the same time.

"And what's that?

"Asking you out on a date" he answered and those six words were enough to leave her tongue-tied and with her jaw hanging. She was expecting another answer. She was expecting something related to his family. She was expecting anything but that. It took her so by surprise that after centuries of dreaming and hoping and silently begging for a moment like that, she had no idea what to do.

“I've been thinking about doing it since we were kids but I didn't cause I was leaving. I didn't want to break your heart. You didn't deserve that. And I know it's too late now but-"

Her hand flew maybe too fast to his face, placing her index finger over his lips. She felt stupid because Daniel was finally saying the words she always wanted to hear. He was saying that he always wanted to take her on a date, but she instead of jumping on his arms like she should, so was telling him to stop talking. But even if Daniel couldn't talk, he was able to move, so he did. He moved his hands and rested them all comfortably over her hips and then kissed her finger with a teeny tiny peck, making the goosebumps appear in less than a second. "Don't do that" she whispered and it was a beg. It was a plea because she had no idea and no will of how to run from there.

"You don't want me to kiss you?" Daniel wondered as a cocky grin appeared on his face, grabbing her hand on his to move her hand from his lips. But she knew better. She knew him better and could see how under that smile, he was terrified. She had no idea if he was scared of the rejection, of ruining it or of the whole situation, but she could see it in his eyes and hated it.

"I do want, but just-" and this time, she interrupted herself. She just had no idea what to say. She looked down at their still jointed hands after Daniel laced their fingers and then she looked at his eyes and she was once again out of words. How could she explain all that was on her mind when she was tongue tied thanks to his handsome face? How could she try to form a decent quote when she wanted nothing but to cover his lips on kisses? How could she say no when his eyes were looking down at her with nothing but love? How was she supposed to tell her best friend that she had been in love with him since she could remember but that she was terrified to say anything and lose him? How could she speak when his thumbs were stroking her hand and hip sending chills all over her body? But then she knew she had to focus. She needed to focus for one second and say it out loud, hoping that maybe Daniel could be able to fight all the ghosts inside her mind. "Don't give me hope. Don't give me hope about things working out between us when it's all in thin air. Don't do it when we all know you'll leave again. I'll leave too. That's what we do. That's how it has always been"

"But we've always come back to each other" he pointed out. He was right after all. Time after time after time, they have somehow made their way back to each other. Years of friendship and people and couples and friends coming and going, they were still them. Through thick and thin they have always been there for each other, even in the distance, so maybe they could make it work. She really wanted to believe they could make it work. "Sabbatical or not, I wanna give it a try. I think we both deserve it. And I also think we both want it"

She could feel her heart skipping a beat when Daniel placed his forehead against hers. Their noses were touching and their lips were so damn close that it felt like a dream. It felt like a dream that was coming true after years of wishing for it to happen. It felt unreal, but suddenly Daniel's hand leaving hers to touch her neck made her remember that, in fact, it was all very much real.

But suddenly there was a question that came to her mind, making her come back to reality for just one little moment. "Since when?"

For the way Daniel smiled, there was no need to explain the question. He knew she wanted to know since when he liked her. Daniel knew she wanted to know for how long they'd been blind about this. She wanted to know how much time they had lost. "Since forever. You?"

"I lost count so yeah, same" she whispered, and now this was her time to lean against his hand, getting lost in his touch.

"Can I? Just to see if… Ykow" Daniel wondered, talking against her lips, but still asking permission to kiss her. They were barely touching, barely feeling each other's lips. That was the farthest they had ever gone. That was the closest they had ever been, and they were just one move away from stopping being friends, but there was nothing she wanted more. There was nothing she wanted more than going from best friends to whatever they were going to be next, so she just nodded.

"Please". It was a whisper. It was a murmur that only Daniel could hear with the music coming from the inside. It was a desperate plea, and in that moment she wasn't ashamed to beg. Not with him. Not when Daniel was the one listening to her words.

And then his lips were over hers. It was careful, soft and loving, just teasing the waters, just checking if there was a sparkle there. But it wasn't just a sparkle that she felt, it was a sky full of fireworks lightning the night. It was a 4th of July and a 14th of July all together inside her heart. It was magic, and it was all thanks to Daniel and one little kiss.

"You said one month, right? That's how much you're staying?" he asked, still with her lips against hers, but this time not wanting to move away, waiting for the moment to go for more. And she nodded. Completely out of air and with a smile that reflected his, she nodded because she totally forgot how to speak. "Good. I've a month to convince you to stay"

But she knew it wasn't going to take Daniel one month to convince her. He just needed one minute and another kiss.

[socialseasons]

Francesca hated how quickly his expression turned, the giddy delight that she so loved contorting into one of distress, of pain, and she winced at the intrusion of thoughts that told her that she was to blame. What if he did not wish to be with her after such a reminder? What if she was simply dragging him into the painful yearnings that she had been forced to endure all these years?

"Why didn't you tell me?"

She balked at that, veins running icy cold as she realised -- oh God, no no no -- that he had no idea about her pregnancy, about the strange few weeks after John's passing where she still held a tiny shred of faith within her, a little piece of him. It had made it all a little less unbearable, had given hope to the family and the people of Kilmartin alike -- Francesca had received so many visitors at that time, each one offering her advice and support. But then... it was gone. The visits stopped, the blaming began, even Michael had left her alone with hardly a goodbye.

"I thought that you knew," she explained, hating the way in which he looked at her now -- The same way in which everybody looked at her once they found out. "You knew about John, so I... well, it happened around the same time. So... I assumed that you had been told."

In truth, Francesca had written to Ben in those dark hours. It had been a fair while since she had attempted to pen any letters, resolute to the fact that she would not receive a reply, yet she found herself scrawling a note nonetheless. Needless to say, it did not ever see the light of day -- After all, she had begged for Michael to stay with her and he had not. Why would Ben not do the same?

The sound that escaped from Ben's throat panicked her, broke her, and she reached up to rest a palm against his cheek, lips pressed together in an attempt to quell the rising anxiety. Yet, as he spoke his truth, Francesca found herself lighten as the burden lifted from her shoulders, eyes growing wet at his suggestion -- He wanted to be with her. Still.

"No matter what, we will have a house full of vibrant laughter and stories in the making. I promise you that.”

Amidst the tears that had managed to fall, Francesca felt herself laugh, actually laugh aloud, dizzy with the sheer relief of his assurances. "I love you. And I promise that I am not trying to change your mind about this," about me, "I just need to know that you could be content with such an eventuality. That you would not resent me for it."

As she was certain that many did. Pushing the thought from her mind, Francesca sniffed and wiped at her eyes with the ball of her hand, beginning their walk again as though she could simply leave the difficult conversations behind.

"Speaking of stories, I do believe that I have been promised a swim in the sea." Flashing a grin in Ben's direction, she hoped that it would be enough to steer the conversation from such terrors. "I would settle for wading or paddling in the meantime. And if we are to be making a day of it, I see no reason to wait."

Ben wasn’t sure what first imbued in him the stirrings for fatherhood. All he knew was that for as long as he could remember, he’d had a deep, overreaching fondness for children – for helping them, for teaching them, for loving them – and it had likely developed while aiding in Samuel’s care after their mother’s passing.

The idea of cradling an armful of youngsters in his lap – of teaching them to read by the fire – instilled in him such a warmth that he nearly felt as if he were floating. And to hear Francesca’s approval, that she actually liked the name, brought a shy grin to his face as he ducked his gaze. "I suppose I’ve had four years to come up with it,” he softly said. “God only knows I’ve been replaying the scenario over and over in my head.”

Francesca inquired about a girl then, and Ben hummed in thought. Though before he could offer a suggestion, she finished for him: Susannah – with a shortened form of Anna.

With a softening in his gaze, a light dampness overcame his eyes and he beamed, squeezing her hand to show his appreciation. “It’s a good call,” he agreed, “seeing how I’m certain Anna would wish to be recognized in some way. You truly do think of everything, don’t you?” Giddy, he bent to kiss her forehead.

“Ben…”

Sensing the distress in her tone, he drew back almost immediately, stumbling to a stop.

“I tried to conceive for two years with no such luck, and-and then when I did…”

He gaped at her for a long moment, stock-still and unmoving. His blood felt frozen in his veins, and with a tightness in his chest, on impulse, he moved to cradle Francesca’s face between his hands, his breath like knifepoints as the ache in his throat worsened. "Frannie,” Ben whispered, nudging his forehead into hers. “W-why…? Why didn’t you tell me?”

When would she have told? his mind taunted. Could she have confessed while he was practically bending over backwards to avoid her, ignoring any and all correspondence?

Hot, salty tears welled in his eyes, and guilt-stricken, Ben fearfully wondered if she had written of her tragedy, but it had been cast aside in a thoughtless heap upon his hearth. “Frannie,” he said again, though his voice was strangled and weakened.

“If I cannot give you a baby, you deserve to be with somebody who can.”

That instantly caused him to sober. Breaking apart with a panicked breath, Ben squinted back at her in hurt bemusement, the fracture in his chest almost suffocating him as he drew in several shallow, weakened gasps for air. It hurt to breathe…why was it hard to breathe?

Squeezing his eyes shut, Ben made a pitiful noise – a whimper – before he firmly managed, “I love you. I was not lying when I said there can be no other woman for me but you. Frannie…” Desperate, he clutched at her hands, opening his eyes again to gaze upon her in pleading supplication. “Even though I dream of and yearn for children, there is no rule that says these children have to be our own.” With tears blinding his vision, he drew her hands up to press a soft, fervent kiss upon her knuckles. “I know of an orphanage – it may not be ideal, but surely, would it be so terrible to raise a child in need? I might even wish to do this regardless of whether or not we can conceive, because I ache thinking of any child not getting the life they deserve. No matter what, we will have a house full of vibrant laughter and stories in the making. I promise you that.”