#And I need to read or whatever for the program anyway

[that-random-fangirl]

Part 4 - Three Bats Walk Into a Food Court (And Also a Person)

~~~~~✨~~~~~

Jason’s brother was a dick. Without a doubt, 100%, an asshole. Said brother had insisted on meeting up for Sibling Bonding Jaybird! No, this was not ‘sibling bonding’, this was the result of the asshole losing a bet with Steph, having to go shopping with her as forfeit – and dragging Jason into the nightmare under false pretences.

“Dick.” Jason spat from the backseat, meaning it in every sense.

“Yes Lil’ Wing?” The Dick-in-question responded from the driver’s seat as he pulled into a parking space at the mall.

“Richard.” 

Richard (Dick) Grayson gasped in horror. “No! You can’t full name me I’m older than you!”

Steph snorted in the passenger seat. “It’s your legal name, not your full name, dumbass.”

“Then you can’t legal-name me! I’ll tell Alfred!” 

Jason raised an eyebrow, reaching into his jacket pocket for his wallet. “Oh really? You’ll tell Alfred?” 

“Yes.” 

Steph watched the exchange eagerly, hitting record on her phone to capture whatever followed. “Oh this’ll be good.”

Jason produced a card from his wallet and presented it to Dick. “There you go.”

“I told you writing ‘I do what I want’ on a card doesn’t count as any kind of permit. I’m a cop, I’m not gonna fall for that.” He scoffed, before adding in a mutter. “Again.”

“Nothing of the sort, Dickolas – look at the card.” Jason insisted.

“What? This one? Fine.” Dick sighed, before beginning to read in a mocking tone. “Master Jason has every right and my permission to legal-name Master Rich—” He trailed off. “What the fuck? Alfred is in on this?!”

“It was his idea, actually.” Steph commented. “Something about how someone has to do it when he’s not available.”

“Why the fuck does Jason have it?!”

“I was nominated.” Jason shrugged.

“That doesn’t answer my question?!”

“Well,” Steph started, beginning to count them off on her fingers, “Damian is the baby, so you’d never take it seriously. Duke was busy with finals at the time. Cass didn’t want it. I’m apparently not ‘mature’ enough, or something. Tim can barely take care of himself and keeps forgetting to sleep so it couldn’t be him. Babs already has authority over you and Bruce wasn’t involved.”

“Plus we don’t listen to the Old Man anyway.” Jason added.

Dick stared at them, mouth hanging open. “What qualified Jason?!”

“Well he did start his own very successful business.” Steph mused.

“He became a Crime Lord!”

“His Business has many departments, and he handles all of them without resorting to over-caffeination and sleep deprivation.”

“He’s literally a vigilante.”

“We’re all vigilantes, get with the program. He was the best one for the job.” Steph replied, climbing out of the car and tapping away on her phone, probably sending the video to the Bat-siblings group chat.

“But I’m the oldest.” Dick whined, making his way around the front of the car to stand with Steph.

“Precisely why you need someone to legal-name you, can’t have you getting too cocky now, can we?” Steph teased, looking up from her phone and pinching at one of Dick’s cheeks.

“No we cannot.” Jason agreed. “I’m in the front on the way back, by the way, I can’t believe you stuffed me in the backseat.” He shut the door with perhaps a touch more force than was necessary, just to see his brother’s face scrunch up in displeasure.

“Please don’t slam the door. I like this car.”

“Oops.” Jason deadpanned.

Steph chose that moment to interrupt. “Not my fault you’re gigantic, I was there first.” She flicked her hair off her shoulder. “I didn’t choose the Passenger Princess life, it chose me.”

“Well, next time you can ‘passenger princess’ in the back, your highness.” Jason bowed mockingly. “Then you can stretch out across the backseat.”

“Solid point – I call backsies when we’re done here!”

“You cannot stretch out on the backseat while I’m driving that’s illegal.”

Jason and Steph stared at Dick for a moment, then – realising he was serious – tried and failed to stifle their laughter. 

“Wow.” Steph gasped, smacking Jason’s shoulder in her amusement. “That’s hilarious, holy crap.”

“Yeah, alright Dickhead, sure.” Jason snorted.

“I’m serious.” 

“Jeez if you’re that worried, I’ll drive.” Jason shrugged. “Can’t have the ‘passenger princess’ not playing passenger.”

Dick pressed his fingers together and into his chin. “I just said I like this car, you are not driving it.”

“You know I’m the best driver out of the clan, excluding Alfred, of course.” Jason protested.

“You drive like you have nothing to live for.” Dick pointed out, immediately regretting his words.

“Well yeah, I died.”

“Oh my God.” Dick threw his hands in the air, spinning on his heel and marching towards the entrance to the mall. “Nope, you are not driving my car. Let’s go get this done before you people drive me to the dark timeline.”

Steph and Jason trailed after him, sniggering.

Eventually, with only one instance of Jason ramming Dick into a concrete planter in the parking lot, the trio made it into the mall. Steph had stowed her phone and set off at a truly impressive – if you didn’t know she was a vigilante who leapt from rooftops after hours – pace for the other side of the complex.

“Steph! Slow down!” Dick begged, hopelessly.

“Dick! Hurry up!” Steph responded.

“Why are you going all the way to the other side of the mall? Don’t you wanna look here?” Dick blurted, confused.

“Dicky-boy, why don’t you know how to shop?” Steph halted in her march, facing them to shake her head. “The answer is so obvious!”

“No it’s not?!” Came Dick’s desperate reply.

Jason sighed, deciding to help his idiot older brother. “We’re starting further so we finish closer, dumbass.”

“Ohhh.” 

“Yes, ‘ohhh’, fuckin’ idiot.”

Steph smirked, spinning back on her heel and setting off again with a flick of her hair over her shoulder. Her minions associates following close behind.

Truthfully, this situation was Danny’s fault, He hadn’t been looking where he was going and now, he was drenched in several hot drinks and covered in three different kinds of fries. In his defence, he was running on probably 20 minutes of sleep and still injured – with all that on top of literally being half dead – it’s fair to say he was a little out of it.

“Well, that’s not ideal.” Danny muttered. 

That didn’t quite cover it, but it was better than the expletives that had filled the air following his collision with a tall, dark-haired and blue-eyed man carrying a tray of food court fare. The tray of food that was now all over Danny and the man himself.

“Oh my God I’m so sorry are you okay?!” The man exclaimed.

“Are these chilli cheese fries? I’d ask if you recommend them but I’m guessing you haven’t tried them.” Danny asked, only to be met with silence. “Okay, wrong crowd, it’s fine – don’t worry.”

“Uh, you sure, kid? You’re covered in – well – a whole lotta stuff.” A blonde woman in a purple sweatshirt pointed out.

“I’m not a kid,” Danny grunted, “and I’ve been covered in worse things.”

“When and how?” Some jock-looking dude with a white streak in his black hair – weird fashion statement but go off, I guess – asked, seeming genuinely surprised.

“Um, people like you aren’t exactly ‘besties’ with people like me?” Danny stated, gesturing to – well – all of the guy in question before doing the same to himself. “I end up in lockers and trashcans because I fit?”

“What do you mean ‘people like you?” The guy asked, somewhere between insulted and concerned.

“Uh, jocks? What did you think I meant?”

“You – hah – you think Jason is a jock?!” The guy who Danny bumped into in the first place laughed from the floor where he’d landed post-collision.

“Uh,” Danny started, “I did, though it looks like I was wrong? Sorry, man.”

“It’s fine, kid.” Jason responded, raising an eyebrow with half a smile, daring him to say anything.

“I probably deserved that.” Danny laughed. “Sorry about your lunch, I guess?”

“It’s fine.” The girl assured. “Dick ran into you.”

“I’m sure he’s not a dick!” Danny insisted.

She laughed out loud with Jason while the other guy just smiled.

“She’s not calling me names, don’t worry.” His smile grew. Apparently, he was trying not to laugh, he offered a hand to shake. “My name is Richard, but I go by Dick. The girl about to fall over is Steph, and the guy is Jason.”

“Oh, okay then.” Danny replied, attempting to avoid mentioning that high school must have sucked for this guy. 

He decided the ‘Dick’ name must be a Gotham thing, as that Duke guy from the library had a brother was also apparently called that. He shook Dick’s hand, before suddenly recalling that he hadn’t introduced himself. 

“Oh, right, I’m Danny.”

“Nice to meet you, Danny – let us help you clean yourself up.”

“Oh no it’s fine don’t worry!” Danny tried. “I can sort myself out later!”

“Nope, I just picked up a couple spare sweaters – I have a lot of siblings and they like to steal them – so you and Dick will go change while Steph and I order some more lunch and let one of the workers know about the mess.” Jason insisted, handing Dick his bag before adding; “You like fries, Danny?”

“Yeah? Wait what?”

“Great! Thanks Jay!” Dick called, accepting the bag and grabbing Danny’s hand, half-dragging and half-guiding the boy to the nearest restroom.

Outside the cubicles, Dick handed Danny a sweater.

“Here you go! Blue for you and red for me!”

“Why?”

“Well, blue matches your eyes and red is Jason’s favourite colour, so as his brother I like to wear it to remind him I’m secretly his favourite.” Dick laughed.

“I meant, why are you being so nice to me?” Danny asked, staring into the man’s eyes, “I ran into you, spilled your lunch everywhere and yet you guys are giving me a sweater and apparently buying me lunch? It doesn’t make sense.”

“Why shouldn’t I help you out? It wasn’t your fault, just bad luck.” Dick asked.

“Hah, I seem to get a lot of that.” Danny mumbled, before speaking up, “You don’t even know me.”

 “Why should that stop me from helping you out if I can?” He paused a moment, noticing the lines of distrust etched into Danny’s expression, “ Maybe you remind me of my brother.”

“Jason?”

“Yeah,” Dick nodded.

“How? He’s, and I mean this in the nicest possible way, huge – I’m average-sized at best and compared to that guy I’m a shrimp.”

“He wasn’t always linebacker-sized,” Dick snorted, “He used to be smaller than you – scrappy too.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Well, I guess there’s a little more to it than that,” Dick pondered, “We didn’t get along all that well when we were younger, I still regret that. We missed a lot of time together that I wish I could get back.”

“That’s, um, deep?” Danny shifted foot-to-foot, “Thanks – I think?”

“No worries – happy to help!” Dick beamed.

Danny accepted the sweater awkwardly, not sure how to deal with the information that this random dude had just dropped in his lap. He shook it off, heading into the cubicle to change.

Dick watched for half a second, suddenly hit by a wave of emotion. He shook his head, clinging onto the look in Danny’s eyes as a distraction – the same look that was etched into everything Jason did as a child, and reared it’s head even now, at times. The desperation, the mistrust, and worst of all – the way he seemed to accept it as inevitable, like it wasn’t a surprise. Dick didn’t mention that he heard Danny’s comment about having a lot of bad luck. He didn’t mention that the kid looked tired, too thin – he didn’t mention how bony he felt when they collided.

If he texted Jason to get an extra serving or two of fries, that was between him and his Little Wing. If Jason had a few milkshakes along with the fries waiting for them – Dick’s favourite flavour, too – that was simply a coincidence. Steph said nothing, and Danny had no way of knowing.

By the end of lunch, Danny had weaselled Jason’s address out of him, so he could return the sweater once he’d washed it (the kid insisted, though Jason wouldn’t have minded if he never saw the sweater again). Danny wasn’t as subtle as he hoped, but it was hard to get anything by bat-trained vigilantes, and Jason shared the information easily – hopeful that the kid would come if he was ever in any trouble too.

The group bid their goodbyes, Danny heading out on his own, the others returning to their shopping. Soon enough, distracted with their lives and heroics, the vigilantes forgot about the boy with icy eyes, who watched with distrust. A week later, Jason received a package in the mailbox, inside of which was the sweater, some candy and a green post-it note:

‘Thanks for the sweater, and the fries – see you around.

– Danny’

The traces of Lazarus water on the note were only discovered when the other message appeared, weeks later.

‘When her Knights have been called, and arrive on the scene,

Release him, only together can you all win.

If the True shall be bold, you’ll learn where he’s been,

When all is as it should be, the city bells will ring.

– CW’

“Do you ever think Batman gets sad?” Young Danny asks his father as he gets tucked into bed one night.

“I don’t think so, son.” Jack responds, kissing Danny’s head.

Ten years later, as Danny is nearly bleeding to death in Batman’s arms after being found in an alley, he finally understands. Batman can get sad, but he can also be very, very angry at the same time.

[hellonoblesky]

I gotta pack for the. college but like my clothes r in the wash rn like that else am I supposed to pack

[once-ina-blue-moon]

tfw you go through an entire day waiting for meetings/calls/people to get back to you just to find 30 minutes before you were supposed to do any given thing that it’s been cancelled so now you’ve wasted the better part of your day waiting & preparing for stuff that didn’t even end up happening and now you have work you have to be doing instead of doing something else that’s actually enjoyable . 🙂

[i-am-agent-washingtub]

Took my little brother to school with me and all he did was nibble my homework >:(

[dewitty1]

Saturday Six (Stuff)

but on Sunday

Funny things from yesterday's market - baby goats for sale and even one little girl carrying her little goat like an actual baby. I got told a lady was praying for my business, and all about the apostle Paul being a sail maker and Canvas worker. We talked about how he probably worked with hemp at that time. Cotton candy (candy floss) puffs bigger than people's heads. A little dude having a tantrum on the grass (like same dude, if I could I would) because he didn't get the right 3d printed dragon toy. A little girl dragging a unicorn on a leash, running from her mom (definitely one way to walk your unicorn lol) At least the music was fairly decent, even if overall it was fairly slow. (。-ω-)ﾉ

Work has been nonexistent. That is not good. I can't really advertise. I'm doing Fb/Instagram posts but idk how much good it's doing.(⑅ ‘﹃’ )

Parents went away for a few days, and basically (the first time) told me I was taking care of watering the plants in their yard, but didn't leave me any gas money. Gee thanks. It's only a 30+ mile round trip.（’-’*)

I'm really not digging the hot temps. Or the wind. Both are bad for fire season.(๑•́ ω •̀๑)

I'm finding it hard to find positivity right now. Le sigh...(ᴗ˳ᴗ)

My veggie (technically fruit) plants are looking great. Hopefully they fruit up nicely!!! ʚ♡⃛ɞ(ू•ᴗ•ू❁)

[vaporgrove]

me when i watch the show about robots who have been unknowingly tampered with and given code against their will to become violent killing machines viewed by everyone around them as monsters all to do the bidding of a being who will only ever view them as puppets to be used until there's nothing left of them as a religiously/sexually traumatized person who has felt and been treated like a malfunctioning robot his entire life: waow.....

[chaotic-history]

having to speak russian now after having pretty much completely stopped studying for six months is so fucking frustrating bc i'll completely blank on a word and then later i'll hear it and it's like. i *know* the words i just can't remember them

[cloudbends]

i have so many fuckin... papers to read... and presentations to make... whatever shall i do... (<- hasn't done shit all day despite having the day off)

[thelaurenshippen]

hello it is world radio day and I want to talk about the state of audio drama very quickly--

over on bluesky, there's a lot of chatter about saving AD at the BBC and it's really worth reading through the tag. public funding for the arts, especially a medium in which experimentation and diversity are prioritized, is crucial and I'm deeply concerned about the BBC getting out of the game.

and, for me, this feels like part of a bigger discussion. the state of art in general is, uh...tough right now. when it comes to getting stories that you feel represent you - that are exciting and inclusive and meaningful - we just have to hope that some big stakeholders have spines and want to still make challenging stuff. idk about you, but I don't want to put all my eggs in that basket.

audio drama has always thrived in america because of you - welcome to night vale, wolf 359, the bright sessions, even the magnus archives (which isn't american but very popular here) have all been able to exist because of listener enthusiasm and support, not public funding or investment from large companies.

the best thing about podcasts is that they are mostly separate from governing bodies/regulations. sure, we all rely on hosting services to carry our shows but if push came to shove, we could create our own RSS feeds. the state of both the us government and tech (and the ways in which those two things are becoming increasingly intertwined) makes me nervous for free expression, but I take comfort in the fact that a lot of shit would have to change for someone to be able to bully me into making my art less diverse.

we have to start aggressively supporting small studios and independent creators again. if you can do that monetarily, fucking great - atypical has a membership program, most shows have patreons or crowdfund, etc. - but that's not the only way to support the art you love. talking about it, making fanart, telling your friends, reblogging, live posting, whatever! we talk a lot about the health of fandoms/reblogging here on tumblr and that's part of it too--we need to start really actively participating in our enjoyment of art again.

anyway, here are two crowdfunds you can give to right now that are still trying to meet their goal:

Camlann Season 2 Heartglass

and an incomplete list of audio dramas that I've been enjoying recently:

Red Valley Un(con)Trolled Havana Syndrome Sherlock & Co

[delusionsofgrandeur13]

pt. 2

you just saw your ex boyfriend, dick grayson, for the first time since he broke up with you.

you ran into him on the street.

no, like, literally ran into him.

you were walking your mom’s dog for her, a german shepherd she got when you moved out. she’d aptly named him trouble. despite his name, trouble was usually a mellow guy, even if he was huge. walking him was just another thing you were doing to try and ignore the thoughts constantly pounding out a beat in your head.

oh, dick would think this is funny! that’s dick’s favorite color, i should buy it! dick and i should go there on our next date!

and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on and-

anyways, you were definitely trying to keep yourself busy.

any time a memory popped up in your brain of him—

laughing at your jokes, holding you close while you fell asleep, kissing your neck while he thrust into you

—you’d empty the dishwasher, paint your nails, (any color but blue) turn on reality tv, read a book, stuff your face, whatever.

anything to stop fucking thinking about him and his stupid blue eyes and his dumb smile.

you’d been been watching the news, sprawled across the couch. just the regular gotham news: don’t use main street, mr. freeze’s ray iced out the pavement. the iceberg lounge had been raided by the police for the third time this month. the justice league defeated yet another extraterrestrial threat to humanity, blah, blah, blah. you weren’t really watching. the news program ended, and the next one started. a gotham gossip show. they were doing a special segment on the wayne family.

of course they fucking were. even your tv was conspiring against you. you had to resist the urge to chuck the remote at it.

you turned it off instead, heading to your room to get ready for a run.

(running for exercise or running from your thoughts?)

your mom had asked you to take trouble right before you’d walked out the door, and so you grabbed him and his leash and headed out. you’d forgotten the bags for his poop, but you didn’t think you would be out that long, so you just kept on going.

you were wearing the leggings dick had bought you, ones he joked should be a specific blue color. you hadn’t understood then, but you more than understood now. it was warmer, and so you just had on an old sports bra on top, and some converse.

you were not the athletic type. that was dick. probably still was. you wouldn’t really know.

you hadn’t talked since it happened, like three or four weeks ago.

time had become a little fuzzy. your mom said you could stay with her as long as you needed, but you were starting to get the itch to move out.

nothing against your mom, it’s just hard to sob really loudly into a pint of ice cream when she’s there.

and she keeps trying to wash the one shirt of dick’s you still have. you know, fully well, how dumb it is, (and a little gross) but you’re still wearing his shirt every night to bed. and maybe it’s all in your head, but it still smells like him. you aren’t ready to wash it. besides, now that you’re sleeping by yourself, you’re pretty sure it’s helping you fall asleep. something that was hard to do the first few nights without your big warm boyfriend next to you in bed.

it probably isn’t good for you, to keep wearing his shirt.

you’d had your hand between your thighs more than once late at night thinking about being enveloped in his scent. your nights were haunted with thoughts of his body over yours, his phantom voice in your ear. calling you angel, asking you if this was heaven, like the last time you’d had sex.

it definitely isn’t good for you.

but neither is life without dick grayson.

you try not to dwell on the fact that dick had given you a sort of non-reason for the breakup. sure, it got lonely sometimes, or you got anxious for your masked boyfriend, so you cried. so what if your patience wore thin after a few too many “i’m sorry, angel, i can’t make it this time”-s.

you were human!

but you’d never, never once complained about his absence or his commitments to his family.

never.

he’d just assumed you were silently suffering and it really irked you if you thought about it for too long. you still weren’t sure if you were mad at him or sad, or whatever. it felt like your brain couldn’t decide on an emotion so you just got twelve at once. but what you did know for sure was that he was 110% worth it to you. you just wish he’d realize that. see that. instead of just the times you were a little emotionally strung out. your ex boyfriend was too willing to sacrifice his own mental health for the sake of yours and you were sick of it. but you didn’t know if you had the courage to say that to him. or even see him, after the way this breakup had hit you.

your friends had managed to get you out of the house, a few times now.

you’d gotten almost too drunk every time, escaping your friends and going outside to get some air. this time, you saw a guy that looked just enough like dick, and it’d all been too much. so you got out of there. you sat yourself down on the curb, looking up at the hazy rooftops. you were always looking up. always.

and since the break up, you’d noticed the vigilantes of your city more often. maybe there was more criminal activity. maybe you were just paying more attention than you used to.

you’d seen spoiler and orphan, pounding the pavement behind you to run after some seedy looking guy holding a briefcase. you think spoiler tried to high five you on the way past, but there was no way. you wrote it off as your memory embellishing things.

you were pretty sure red hood had nodded at you before disappearing down a fire escape on the other side of the building.

your mom had recently gotten a delivery of security cameras for her house. but she hadn’t ordered them. the shipping address had only the address of some warehouse on the dock, the name just, ‘R.R.’ you’d set the cameras up, but you and your mom both were still baffled about it.

and here, sitting on the curb, you were staring at what looked like a dark figure crouched on the rooftop opposite. they’d been there when you’d entered the club, too.

you squinted, trying to make out shoulders and suit colors, when they stood up, and the light bounced off his shiny cowl.

fucking batman?

you shook your head, trying to shake your drunk brain like an etch-a-sketch. there was actually no way.

a smaller figure, one you hadn’t seen behind the shape of batman (!?) pulled a weapon, a gleaming silver sword, and pointed it at you. your head spun. batman (there was no way) shook his head at robin. he sheathed his sword, throwing his hands up in what looked like annoyance. you blinked, and they were gone.

you weren’t really sure if it had happened or not. you’d been trying not to think too hard about the fact that you still hadn’t seen nightwing. you’d really been trying.

so instead, you were walking your mom’s dog.

trouble had, in fact, pooped, and you were frantically looking around for something to pick it up with. gotham was already shitty enough without the addition of, well, literal shit. the streets were busy, but not crowded, and someone down the block whistled for a cab, catching your attention. you turned, and at the same time, trouble jerked your arm, pulling you backwards into someone walking on the sidewalk. the stranger made a choked sound.

“trouble??”

your heart stopped. you held your breath, turning around.

trouble was at attention, looking up at your ex-boyfriend with his head cocked.

dick’s eyes were wide. his hair shorter than you remember. he leaned down to scratch trouble behind the ears, his biceps and shoulder muscles in hard relief. are you dreaming? you didn’t recognize the shirt he had on, but he was wearing your favorite jeans of his, and his matching converse. your mouth felt like a desert.

trouble trails around the two of you, the leash long. he loves your ex-boyfriend, you know he won’t go anywhere.

“did you cut your hair?” you take a step forward. dick does too.

“i-” he clears his throat. “i did. do you like it?” he shifts his eyes, his cheeks bright pink.

you make a show of looking it over. he turns his head so you can see it from all angles. like he always did when he got a haircut.

your chest hurts.

you nod approvingly, flashing him a weak smile.

“it looks really nice. you’re very-” your face heats as you stop yourself. “it looks very handsome.”

that’s an understatement. you would’ve climbed him like a tree the minute he’d come home looking like that. the way his biceps were bulging out of his shirt sleeves could not be good for his circulation. it was great for yours, your heart was beating a mile a minute.

dick smiles down at you, stepping forward again.

“thanks.” he looks down, taking in your outfit. “nice leggings, ang-” he’s cut off when trouble spots a squirrel and darts, barking wildly. the problem is, trouble had been walking his leashed self around you and dick.

you’re now chest to chest with your ex boyfriend in the middle of a sidewalk, tied to him by rope. you vaguely hear trouble whine at the way his collar bit into his neck from the leash pulling taut. you didn’t even have the time to process the fact that he had almost called you angel. which was probably a good thing.

you’re breathing heavily, while dick doesn’t seem to be breathing at all.

he’s put his arms around you on instinct, and you hate the way you feel like you’re home. a shiver runs up your spine at the sudden closeness, and dick peers down at you through half-lids. your mouth dries up again. you suddenly feel indignant.

“you are not allowed to breakup with me and then show up and look at me like that!” you hiss at him.

you would throw up your hands in exasperation if they weren’t basically pinned to dick’s body. a smile breaks across his face, his bright blue eyes telling you everything you need to know. he stares at you, studying you. you wonder if he can feel how hard your heart is beating.

“alfred taught me a new recipe.” he blurts, his hand clutching at your back.

he’s adorable. but you school your face and raise an eyebrow at him.

“..oookay?”

dick blushes, his face sheepish. “i could make it for you, if you wanted.”

“what i want is an apology.” you look him up and down.

your ex boyfriend grimaces, squeezing his eyes shut. “understandable.”

“on your hands and knees. i think this is one of those begging-for-my-forgiveness type situations, don’t you think?”

dick nods, a strand of hair falling across his forehead. his eyes flash.

“you don’t have to worry about getting me on my knees.”

one heartbeat pounds behind your ribs, the other one between your legs. you huff out a weird sort of nervous laugh.

“oh, i’m not joking.” his lips curve up in a smile, one you know very well. he obviously plans to make up on lost time.

you forgot how charming he was. you have to practically force yourself to breathe. you’d do anything to have the real thing over his old t-shirt. you give yourself a mental shake.

he can flirt all he wants, but what about your heart? you look up at him, and his face softens, his pupils huge.

“can you get us untangled?”

dick nods, whistling for trouble. he frees an arm and grabs trouble’s collar, guiding him back around so the leash falls to the sidewalk. you step back, taking a deep breath. you’re cold at the sudden loss of his body heat. it’s a harsh reminder of reality. you grab trouble’s leash, having him sit. you look at your ex boyfriend.

“thanks.” you take another deep breath. “can you promise me something, though?”

he nods, his face serious. “anything. anything at all.”

“promise you won’t break my heart again?” you hold out your pinky finger.

dick coughs, surprised at your words. he looks down, taking a shaky breath. he’s in disbelief, he’s ecstatic, he’s on top of the world, he…has a lot of apologizing to do.

when he looks back up to offer up his own pinky, his eyes are shining. the sight makes your heart melt. you take his finger in yours, beaming up at him.

he gives you a soft smile in return. “i promise.”

you take your hand back, feeling the most hopeful you have in a month.

a breeze picks up, and the whiff you get reminds you of your earlier predicament. you look down. dick looks down too.

shit. literally.

you forgot about the fact that trouble had used the sidewalk as a toilet.

“is that trouble’s?” he asks.

you nod, making a face. “i forgot the poop bags.”

“rookie mistake.” dick shakes his head, smiling. you look him up and down, and then turn, walking back the way you came.

“text me about that recipe!” you lift your hand in a wave.

“but-..uh, the shit?” he calls after you.

“that’s alllll you, baby!” you yell back, practically skipping away. you feel like you’re floating.

[katsu28]

home cooked meals & crashed dinner dates

pairing: oscar piastri x verstappen!reader

summary: your plan to finally make good on your promise of a home cooked meal for oscar's first win is thwarted by a certain older brother of yours. (3.1k)

warnings: general swearing, overprotective brother max. this is the long awaited part two to maiden wins & secret meet-ups, but can be read as a stand-alone!

a/n: we interrupt your (semi) regular programming of lando to give you more bf oscar!!! wrote most of this pre baku so no second win unfortunately

Everything is perfect. 

You’ve got Oscar’s favorite pasta dish simmering on the stove, a few appetizers ready on the counter, the table set up nicely for two, and your flat is pretty clean.

All that’s left to do is change into something nice and wait for Oscar to arrive, and your promise of a date night with a home cooked meal for his win will have been fulfilled. 

You’re more excited than anything. You haven’t seen Oscar since Hungary because you’ve both been busy, but you managed to find tonight as one night where neither of you have anywhere else to be, no one else to see. All you want to do is spend time with him and love on him as much as you can while you're alone together. 

The doorbell rings just as soon as you’ve slipped into one of your favorite dresses, and for a moment you’re confused, because Oscar isn’t supposed to be here for another twenty minutes.

And Oscar, bless his heart, is never early. 

You push the thought away as you go to open the door because hey, maybe he’s just as excited to spend time with you as you are with him. It’s the only thing on your mind when you pull it open to greet—

“Max? What’re you—” 

Your brother is nudging past you as soon as the door swings open wide enough, completely ignoring your bewildered state in favor of beelining for your sofa and plopping down onto it. He kicks his feet up onto the coffee table in front without a care in the world, settling into the cushions behind him with a loud, relaxed sigh. 

“Um, hello? This isn’t your home, you know! An acknowledgement would be nice before you come barging in. And a warning that you’re coming, but whatever, I guess.” 

He blinks a few times, cocking his head to the side. “Hi. Sorry, I forgot to text, but I figured you’d be home anyways, so…” 

“Right, but I actually have plans soon,” You reply, gesturing vaguely at what you know he knows isn’t your typical staying at home outfit, “as you can see.” 

“Oh, that’s a nice dress,” He hums, motioning for you to do a spin. You don’t humor him with one. Instead you walk over to where he is and shove his dirty shoes off your table, wrinkling your nose at just how annoying he’s being right now. “Bit fancy for a night in though, no?” 

“Thank you. But I’ve got plans,” You say tightly. He gives a firm nod. You wait for him to say something else, but he doesn’t, so you sigh. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Maxie, but what are you doing here?” 

“Can’t I pay my favorite sister a visit without a reason?” 

You try again, with more urgency this time. “Sure, but any other time would be better.” 

Either Max really needs to get his ears checked, or he’s actively choosing to ignore your words, because he grabs the TV remote off the table, patting the seat next to him as he switches it on. 

“C’mon, watch Love Island with me. I’m three episodes behind and I need to catch up before Charles spoils it for me next time we play padel.” 

Frustrated to no end at his inability to listen, you cast a quick glance at the time. Oscar is meant to arrive increasingly soon, you’re no closer to getting Max out of your flat, and you’re a hair's width away from kicking him out with force. 

“Max, I need you to leave.” 

He chuckles, “Why?” 

“Why? Because I have plans, have you not heard anything I’ve said?” You huff, propping your hands on your hips frustratedly. Max sits up from his slouch, looking from you, over towards the food on the counter, the candles and silverware on the table. 

“Are you expecting someone?” He asks incredulously, brows flying high. “Oh my god, are you having a date over?” 

“Maybe. Okay, yes, so you need to go. Like, now.” 

Max ignores you (again), rising to his feet, mirroring your stance and expression scarily accurately. Sometimes you feel like you were meant to be twins in another life with how similar you are every so often. Then you think that he would’ve probably absorbed you in your mum’s womb had you actually been twins.

“Who is it?” 

“I don’t think that’s any of your business, really.” 

“Uh, yes it is! As your brother, it’s my responsibility to make sure whoever my baby sister lets all up in here isn’t a fucking serial killer, for starters.” 

“All up in here? You’re being ridiculous. I’ll have you know I am perfectly capable of doing things on my own, thank you very much.” 

“Uh huh, sure. So what’s their name? What do they do?” 

“Still none of your business!” 

“You’re being evasive.” 

“Yeah, well you’re being invasive.” You level Max with a narrow eyed stare, crossing your arms over your chest. He does the same, but god is he much better at it than you. It makes you let out a sigh, digging the heels of your palm against your eyes. “I love you, Maxie, but I know how you get with people I’ve been in relationships with, and this one…he’s special, okay?”

His glare softens at the pure fondness in your tone, posture relaxing, arms dropping. He studies you for a few moments, like he’s gauging whether or not he should continue with his annoyingly overprotective older brother shtick or drop it all together. “Fine. I still want to know his name though. Full name, first and last. Just so I can do a little background research myself, alright?” 

“Oh, I think you know it already,” You mutter under your breath, more to yourself than anything. 

“What?” 

“Nothing!” You smile at him innocently, shrugging. “Will you go now?” 

Max lets you usher him towards the door, sounding a bit annoyed, but you’ll deal with him later. You’ve still got a bit of time before Oscar’s set to arrive to get Max out, thank goodness. “Yeah, alright. But don’t think I won’t make you call me right after whoever this guy is leaves.” 

“Yeah, sure, of course. Right afterwards, you got it,” You say absentmindedly. You pull open the door for him, well and ready to finally shoo him away—

And then there’s Oscar, one hand reaching for the doorbell, the other clutching a colorful assortment of flowers wrapped in brown paper. 

Fuck. 

Out of all your dates, this just had to be the one time Oscar showed up early.

He’s smiling softly, but as soon as the door swings open and he sees Max standing in front of him, his expression turns into that of a deer in headlights. If you weren’t so all over the place right now, you would’ve found it hilarious. 

“Piastri? What’re you doing here? And why do you have—” Max freezes mid-sentence, eyes ping-ponging between you and Oscar so fast you wouldn’t be surprised if they popped out of his head. “Oh, what the fuck? You’re dating fucking Oscar? And you,” He turns his attention back to the shaken looking Aussie, “you’re dating my sister? What the fuck!” 

“Um…hey, mate. I mean, Max. I mean—hi? Erm, nice to see you too,” Oscar says hesitantly, reaching up to rub at the back of his neck awkwardly. His eyes flick to yours helplessly, begging for a lifeline. 

“Hi, Osc. Don’t mind him, come on in.” You push Max aside with both hands, making room for Oscar to cross the threshold.

Though judging by the slightly nauseous look on his face, Oscar would much rather like to turn around and leave right back the way he came. Max, on the other hand, just stares blankly at the two of you. 

You ease the flowers out of Oscar’s grip, pressing what you hope is a reassuring kiss to his cheek in return. “These are gorgeous.” 

Oscar gives his head a little shake to get himself out of his stupor. “Yeah, I had the florist put together all your favorite flowers.” 

“I love them, thank you. Come with me to the kitchen? The vase is on the top shelf.” You slide your hand into his, tugging him in the direction you want to go and he follows, tearing his wide eyed gaze from Max’s as he stumbles after you. Once you’re safely in the kitchen and out of Max’s earshot, you turn to him. “I am so sorry for springing this onto you without warning, he just showed up like, ten minutes ago and I was just about to get him to leave.” 

“Um, yeah, no it’s—it’s fine. Just caught me off guard a little, is all,” He breathes, bobbing his head. “So he knows about us…?”

“Pretty sure he’s connecting the dots right now, yeah.” You sneak a peek out of the kitchen to see that Max hasn’t moved an inch from his previous position. His body is frozen in place, but you already know his mind is moving a mile a minute. 

You turn back to Oscar, setting aside the flowers on the counter. “I haven’t told him anything else yet, but I think at this point, we might have to. Only if you’re okay with it, though. I can still tell him to fuck off if you want.” 

Oscar’s hands slide up your arms, rubbing your shoulders soothingly, calmly. “I’m okay with it. I’ve had you all to myself the last five months, I’m ready to take the next step in our relationship.” He folds you into his embrace, strong arms wrapping around you tightly. Your cheek presses against the firm, sturdiness of his chest, helping settle you in that way it seemed only he could. “Are you?” 

“‘Course I am,” You say firmly, pulling back to look him in the eye. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.” 

His lips curve into a small smile, eyes doing that little happy squint thing you love. “Yeah?” 

You kiss him instead of answering, short and sweet, before moving to leave. Max has moved to the living room when you make your way out of the kitchen cautiously with Oscar in tow, and he doesn’t seem to notice you’re both there until you clear your throat. 

His blank gaze flicks to yours, then Oscar behind you before morphing back into the calculating sharpness that you’ve grown accustomed to. 

You’re the one to break the silence. “So…I’m sure you have questions.” 

“That doesn’t even begin to cover it,” He grumbles. 

One thing about your brother, he talks a lot. A real motormouth, so to speak. And right now, he’s got a lot to talk about. He even slips into Dutch for a few minutes at some point, not even noticing when you lean over towards Oscar to translate for him. 

Soon enough you realize he isn’t even talking about your relationship anymore, but has somehow moved on to the faults of his own, which is a whole other can of worms that you really don’t care to discuss. Part of you feels like Max might be projecting a little bit, but you’ll worry about those problems later. 

It isn’t until he loops back around to the topic at hand grumbling something along the lines of you making a mistake by dating Oscar that you stop him with a glare and some choice words of your own. 

“I’m not going to sit here and let you judge me, Max. I am an adult, I don’t have to explain anything to you, let alone who I choose to be in a relationship with,” You say firmly. You’ll lay everything out plain and simple for your brother, who is usually one of the most observant people you know, so things are as clear as possible going forward. “I love Oscar, and there’s nothing you can say that will change that, so you need to find a way to be okay with this.” 

You’re too busy taking a stand against Max’s stubborn nature to notice Oscar right now, but if you had been paying any ounce of attention to him, you would’ve seen his lips quirk up into a wide grin, the straightening of his hunched shoulders. 

He’s pleased, to say the least. For a guy known by the world as being extremely flat and composed, he's nothing but expressive when it comes to you. 

Max, however, does notice the changes in Oscar’s demeanor. The crease between his brows lessens, because shit, he’s never seen Oscar Piastri smile that big before. Never seen Oscar look at anyone the way he’s looking at you now, even as you continue to lecture Max about boundaries. 

“Fucking hell,” He says, dragging a hand back through his hair. It gets you to pause, raising an expectant brow at him. “You’re right. I’m being a total asshole brother, aren’t I?” 

“Yes, you are,” You say pointedly, arms crossed. He drops down onto the couch behind him, hunching over and propping his chin up in his palm with a heavy sigh. 

Guilt tinges at you a little bit at the sight. You know Max means well. He loves you and wants you to be happy, but he gets a little too overprotective of you sometimes. It’s been that way since you were kids. He was away for races a lot, so when he was there he tended to overcompensate. 

You sigh, sitting down next to him. “You’ve always watched out for me, and I’ll always be grateful for everything you’ve done to protect me, but I’m not a little girl anymore, Maxie. It’s time to let me do things on my own.” 

“You’re making me sound so old right now and I hate it,” Max huffs dramatically. “But you have a point. You’re not a little girl anymore, but you’ll always be my little sister.” 

“And you’ll always be my big brother.” 

Max presses his lips into a thin line. “Guess I should leave now, huh?”

You nod faux seriously, patting his knee. He sighs, drags himself to his feet, sticks out his hand towards Oscar for a begrudgingly firm shake before he goes. Then he stops in his tracks about halfway to the front door, whirling around to face Oscar again.

“If you hurt her…well, I won’t even have to kick your ass, because she’ll have already done it for me,” He warns, pointing an accusing finger in his direction.

You fight a smile, because even though you know Oscar would never hurt you, you’re secretly pleased your brother recognizes that you can handle yourself. 

The Australian boy nods solemnly. “I wouldn’t dream of it.” 

“Don’t really know him all that well, huh?” Max teases, the first time he’s looked anything but downright distressed since discovering you’re dating Oscar. You offer him a guilty smile that he rolls his eyes playfully at as he pulls the door open. “Breakfast tomorrow? I’d like to know more about how absolutely fucking blind I’ve been to not know you’ve been seeing Oscar this whole time.” 

“Breakfast sounds good,” You chuckle. “Now for the hundredth time, please leave. I’ve got a date.” 

You let out the biggest sigh in the world as soon as the door slams shut, a little exhausted at the emotional roller coaster you’ve just been on. All this because you wanted to cook your boyfriend a nice meal for a special occasion. 

Oscar’s found his way to the sofa, inviting arms open, soft smile on his face. You plop down next to him with a groan.

You’re only now noticing he’s worn your favorite shirt today, the dark one that hugs his biceps just right and makes the cozy warmth of his brown eyes pop. 

“Reckon that went rather well.”

You scoff, both amused and skeptical. “Seriously?” 

“Well, in my head, I thought he was gonna punch me in the face, so…yeah, I don’t think it went too bad. All things considered.” 

“I feel like I’m always apologizing for things lately,” You sigh, letting your head fall onto Oscar’s shoulder. He exhales in the form of a chuckle, lacing his fingers through yours comfortingly. “And for some reason, my brother seems to be a common denominator. So, I apologize about him too, because we both know he’s too stubborn to say it himself.” 

“Seems like stubbornness runs in the family.” 

You knock your knee against Oscar’s without any real force behind it, rolling your eyes playfully. “Funny. Sorry you had to hear me argue with him.” 

“He’s just being an older brother. I get it.” He shrugs nonchalantly, totally unphased. “Plus, you’re kinda hot when you get mad.” 

“Ha! You’re into that?” 

“Guess I am.” 

“I learn something new about you everyday, don’t I?” 

Oscar just grins knowingly at you, pressing a kiss to your temple. 

“I love you too, by the way,” He says later on in the night, when you’re both standing at the kitchen sink. You’re washing dishes from dinner, he’s drying them with a dishcloth.

His tone is completely casual, offhanded, like the way someone might mention how nice the weather is today. 

You blink, brows furrowed in confusion. “Huh?” 

“Earlier, when you were chewing Max out, you said—” He pauses, rubs furiously at a wet spot on the plate clutched in his hands, cheeks going pink. “You said you loved me? Was that just to prove your point, or…” 

If you’re being totally honest, you hadn’t even realized you’d said it. You’ve never shared those three little words with Oscar before, but the more the weight of them sets in, the more you realize it’s true.

You’ve fallen in love with Oscar Piastri without even knowing. 

At the back of your mind, though, you think you’ve known all along. From the first time he’d uttered out an awkward hello in the paddock all those months ago, you were hooked. Since then, being with him was easier than anything else you’ve ever done. Sure, the secrecy and the constant on the go nature that came with being a professional athlete provided a few hurdles, but you like to think you’ve managed to handle them quite well. 

“Uh…hello?” 

Your focus is brought back to real time, where Oscar is looking back at you with a borderline nervous expression gracing his face. 

“Yeah, I do.” You smile warmly. “I love you, Osc.” 

You abandon the sponge clutched in your hand, dropping it in favor of reaching across the dish rack and cradling his cheek in your palm, kissing him gently. 

“Well, that’s a relief. Thought I’d just made a fool of myself right there.” 

He’s got soap suds on his face, one eye scrunched shut at the wetness from your hand, but you think he’s never looked more handsome. He could be wearing the most god awful outfit known to man and you’d still think he’s the best thing you’ve laid eyes on, because you love him and he loves you. 

And really, that’s all you need to feel right where you should be. 

follow @katsu-library to be notified when i post a new fic :)

[bunnysdollette]

WAYS IM PREPARING FOR THE BIG 2025 PT 1 ⟢

♡˚₊· ͟͟͞͞ Hey angels! I basically just wanted to come on here today and share some ways I’m preparing for the new year. Feel free to take inspiration from this post. :) Stay cute

BEFORE ANYTHING…

Before starting ANYTHING off new this year, I really just wanted to take time and reflect on what I did well and what I need to work on next year and also what I’ve LEARNED this year to make a game plan.

For example, some things I’ve noticed this year that I need to work on is better time management, balance between work and life, taking more time for my mental health, and pushing myself more towards my goals.

I recently also read a post about resetting before 2025, which I think is helpful. I’ll link it right here.

ENVISIONING THE YEAR

for me, setting an expectation is SO important. It just defines everything I want to have and accomplish, it lets me believe that my desires can be attained and really just cultivates that kind of positive mindset I need going into the new years.

Here are ways I’m currently making space for that vision for the big 2025.

♡ vision boards

(could be about beauty, manifesting, money, studying, or a combination! whatever you’d like, but I’d recommend not sharing to keep that energy private to you. it’s important to move in silence.)

♡ inner work

(maybe some difficult events have happened this year or recently. it’s important to go into 2025 releasing everything negative and leaving all grudges behind. 2025 is a NEW year. let’s make sure our mental is great now so that we can charge into 2025 ready to go.)

♡ self care time

♡ social media detox

♡ planning new smart goals

♡ stricter mental diet

START NOW

guys, you’re gonna have to trust me when I say START NOW. of course your resolution isn’t officially in effect til the start of January, but PLS. start now while your motivation is here or even if you aren’t motivated. START working out, start taking those little steps to move like your dream self, DO IT.

The problem is that usually a “new years resolution” person will give up after not even a week of being in it, so START now. Give yourself the space to make mistakes and work out those kinks NOW so you can really go into the new year feeling refreshed and ready to conquer every single one of your goals.

HARSH MOTIVATION

“The person with the same goal as you is working 10x as harder as you right now.”

I saw this quote on my feed and it really resonated with me, because I want to pursue a career in nursing. It made me think of all the people who are studying hard right now and doing pre-med programs right now to be two steps ahead and really excel in their performance as a nurse. And what am I doing? Slacking.

No more slacking in 2025! I have to realize this and tell you this, that nobody is holding your hand anymore! It’s just you versus the world. What will you do to succeed? You need to act NOW while you’re realizing this, or be left behind. That’s just the way things work.

Take that time to yourself. Take that time to reflect, think, and rebuild your self concept for the beginning of the new years. This is YOUR moment. This is YOUR year. YOU’RE her, so start acting like it.

ahihihihi and bd changes her layout again? guys I’m rlly struggling with this theme shit 😪 I feel like I can’t really find a format I can stick to. I think I’m in my divine feminine era..kinda loving it but doesn’t match the cute pink teenage vibe I have for the rest of my blog. anyways have a wonderful holidays n 2025 angels hoped this helped msg me byee ♡

[loveinhawkins]

goes without saying

ao3 Written for @steddie-week Day 1 prompt, “secret relationship.”

Dustin’s been trying to communicate with his eyes alone that Eddie is under no obligation to sit through his mom going on and on about whatever trouble Uncle Frank’s gotten himself into now. For one, Dustin loves his mom, but the story got old, like, within the first five minutes of her telling it, and two, she’s mostly just telling him anyway, while handing over grocery bags; Eddie’s only trapped in the general vicinity of the conversation which he could easily leave at any point, but he’s apparently got this fear of being rude that he’s never actually admitted to, but Dustin can read it pretty confidently.

Like now, Eddie’s sat on the front step, and one finger is tap-tap-tapping on his knee—it’s not quite the same as when he’s got a song stuck in his head, an anxious edge to it that Dustin can discern but not really explain; you just have to know how to look.

He abandons the silent communication as a lost cause—seriously, Eddie needs to get with the program and dramatically improve his telepathy skills—and heads inside, bags in tow.

Steve’s in the kitchen; he’d brought the first of the bags in. Thankfully he’s more than competent in telepathy, because Dustin just needs to raise one eyebrow slightly, hey, dumbass, he needs you, and he’s already nodding.

He’s stopped on his way out by a petulant miaow: Tews in the doorway.

“Sorry, dude, I don’t know which bag your food’s in,” Steve tells him earnestly.

Dustin rolls his eyes. And maybe it’s because he’s distracted by the groceries, or it’s just the fact that him and Steve are alone—either way, he’s not really thinking when he says it.

“Stop bothering my cat and go and bother your boyfriend.”

He doesn’t even notice what he’s said until he sees Steve’s eyes go wide and—

“Shit,” Dustin says, because this wasn’t the plan, not even remotely. His suspicions were confirmed over a month ago, the tail end of a phone call he hadn’t even meant to overhear, Steve murmuring, “Love you, too. Try and get some sleep, okay?”

Dustin had kept the conclusion strictly to himself—he was going to actually approach it sensitively, damn it.

But now there’s a flicker of trepidation in Steve’s eyes, and he can’t let it stand.

“I didn’t say anything,” Dustin insists. He waves his hands for emphasis, desperately hopes it’s enough to get everything across. It’s okay, you’re okay, we’re okay. “I’m a goddamn ignoramus and I know nothing.”

There’s a long pause.

Then Steve starts to smile.

“You’re a goddamn ignoramus and you know nothing.”

Dustin only has to look at the way Steve’s eyes are shining to know that’s not what he’s saying at all.

[1d1195]

Most - Extra I

Read Most here | ~2k words

From me: It's probably too early for an extra for them, but I seriously couldn't resist. Takes place sometime within the first couple of months of the last part.

Warnings: this is going to be disgustingly sweet. Nothing to report except you'll have a toothache after reading.

Summary: Harry gets to rush home from work now to the love of his life. Everything about her makes his heart ache.

Harry was exhausted. Now that she was home, he didn’t have a reason to avoid going home to be by himself. There was no need to feel suffocated by loneliness because he wasn’t alone anymore. So, he changed his work schedule quite a bit. He wasn’t single anymore (even if he never felt that way anyway). But he didn’t do overtime much anymore. He didn’t pick up shifts that others didn’t want or were unable to work due to their own families. The station was never left stranded regardless, but he wasn’t the go-to ask anymore. He felt a little bad and still occasionally took a short overtime shift, but not nearly as many as the insane hours he was prior to her coming home. He didn’t take his time leaving either the way he used to. There was no need anymore. Fortunately, all his coworkers were completely understanding.

48 hours on and 96 hours off. A normal shift for a firefighter. It was so much better than the 18-hour days he was doing before she returned. He could see her for days at a time. He pampered her, snuggled her, and kissed every inch of her skin like she might disappear again even though he really didn’t believe that anymore the way he did when she first came home.

But the end of this two-day shift left him exhausted. It was exceptionally busy. Thankfully, no one was hurt. Only one small house fire contained to the kitchen and the toaster that caught the curtain in the window at fault. There was lots of paperwork that needed filing and reporting for a hundred different things. There was more training. Another visit to the elementary school and a safety outreach program in partnership with other community groups.

Harry grabbed his bag from the back seat, locked his door, and headed inside. Each step felt heavier than the next. He couldn’t wait to get into bed beside her and snuggle her. With the way her work schedule was, she had arrived home after him the last few times. But today, her car was parked next to his. It made his heart flutter. Happy that he had everything he ever wanted. The love of his life, a cute house, and everything. But Harry could have done without the house, the car, the career he loved.

She was there.

That was everything.

It was late. Almost eleven. The outside air was chilly. The moon glowed so bright it almost felt like a stage light on his arrival home. There was the smell of a campfire somewhere a few streets over. All concluding to a perfect fall night. He almost wanted to wake her just so she could come outside and smell it because it reminded him of a bonfire they went to when they first started dating. They made out under a tree and giggled about all their future while their friends drank around the fire.

Quietly, he unlocked the door. He was hoping she wouldn’t wake from his arrival. Her classes alongside work had been kicking her butt. Maybe worse than a 48-hour shift not that she would ever let him think that. No, she doted on him and made sure he was doing okay regardless of how tired she was. It made his heart ache with how much she adored him, but Harry was lucky to have five days off between his shifts. She was lucky if she had one.

Kicking his shoes off right inside the door he was overwhelmed with how good it smelled. A combo of whatever she cooked for dinner and the now permanent scent of her hair care wafting through the house from bathroom all the way to the living room. If this had been even a year ago, Harry never would have thought it was possible to have it all. But the smell of her shampoo was enough to make his eyes watery. Especially after a long couple of days.

He dropped his bag by his shoes, locked the front door, and turned to make his way to the kitchen to put his Tupperware in the dishwasher. He wished he looked sooner because the sight made his heart skim a beat. A strangled, quiet groan came from his throat, as he tried to stop it so he would wake her. Wouldn’t start sobbing with how much he adored her.

Harry rushed to the living room sofa, dropped to his knees beside it. One hand fell to her hip and danced up the curve of her waist, resting on her ribcage as her breath moved her body up and down at gentle intervals. “Kitten,” he murmured.

She didn’t stir. Harry placed a hand over her ear along the side of her head. Softly he rubbed his fingertips into her head. “Baby,” he tried again. Seeing her so peacefully on his couch made him possessive and happy. He wanted nothing more than to watch her like she was his favorite show. All she had to do was sleep; it was enough entertainment for him. They dreamed of things like this and now it was here, and he felt so much love it made him want to cry.

She grunted softly. “Hi baby,” she hummed reaching out and grabbed at his T-shirt. She pulled at the chest, right below the collar of it and tugged him toward her more. Then, she slid her hand over his face. “You okay?”

“M’fine. Why aren’t y’in bed, kitten?"

"S'cold,” she mumbled, yawned.

“So, turn the heat up, baby,” a smile was in his voice as he shook his head at her.

She shook her head back in response. Slowly, she sat up. Her arms came and wrapped around his shoulders and tucked her face into his neck. “Not that kinda cold,” she mumbled.

Fuck, he loved her so much. She was so cute it made him want to scream. She was purposefully on the sofa. Waiting for him.

He swallowed the emotion that was blocking his throat, and he exhaled slowly to calm himself before he had to explain to her why he was crying like a baby because of her and how much he loved her.

He was royally fucked when she walked down the aisle. He would blubber. There wouldn’t be enough tissues in the world to dry his eyes.

“Baby, y'can't sleep on the couch every time m'at work."

"Watch me."

God. His arms tightened around her waist, and he kissed the side of her head as he rocked her gently. He couldn't be close enough to her. "S'bad for your neck t’be on the couch, kitten.”

"It's bad for my heart to be without you in bed."

Harry was going to sob because of her. He squeezed her again. He wasn’t arguing. He just wanted her to be comfy and cozy. Gently, he gripped just behind her knees and pulled her legs around his hips and swiftly stood all in the same movement. He kissed her temple. “Are you hungry?” She asked sleepily. “I’ll make you a plate,” but she nuzzled into his neck, and he almost wanted to say yes, just so he could see how she would manage while half asleep. He thought it was adorable. She was adorable.

“No, kitten. M’fine.”

She frowned. “Did you eat?”

“I ate baby. Don’t worry,” he promised.

“You don’t have to carry me. I’m heavy and you worked so long—”

“Shh,” he hushed. He supported one arm beneath her bum, cradling her to him. He carried her to the bedroom and placed her softly on the mattress before he moved away. She pouted rubbing at her eye with the palm of her hand.

“Where are you going?”

He really didn’t think his heart could take how cute she was. It felt like it was bursting, threatening to break out of his ribcage and find its way into hers so it could be next to her heart. “M’jus’ changing, baby, showered before I left,” he explained. “Gonna be all snuggled close.”

She sighed with relief. Crawled beneath the covers and waited patiently while Harry stripped down to his boxers and went to the bathroom to quickly swish his toothbrush around his mouth.

Harry wasted no time getting into bed. He lifted the sheet, blanket, and comforter that she had decorated the bed in a pattern Harry never would have had if she didn’t live with him. It was plenty warm. Rendering her defense all the sweeter.

He opened his arms for her to nuzzle against him where she also wasted no time falling into his embrace.

Maybe one day she would sleep in bed without him suffocating her with his cuddling.

But it wasn’t going to be any time soon.

“I love you,” she murmured to him.

“I love you,” he kissed down the length of her neck.

“Missed you so much.”

Sometimes he didn’t know if he meant her shift or the three years that he didn’t see her.

“I missed you, baby,” honestly it didn’t matter what she meant because the moments she wasn’t within his sight he missed her like crazy. Too much time apart made him a little insane. A little hungry for time that he couldn’t get back. But he would try anyway and enjoy every second of it. “Don’t sleep on the sofa waiting for me,” he hummed. He worried about her always. “It’ll hurt your neck.”

“Don’t you care about how my heart will hurt, Harry?” Her voice was soft, joking.

“More than anything, kitten,” he promised, seriously. “M’always going t’come home t’you though. Did y’sleep on the sofa last night?” He wondered, realizing that there was always going to be a day he didn’t know where she slept. She nodded against him. No speaking. Perhaps she was too tired. Too tired to pretend as well. There was a tight pressure around his heart and a half-smile, half-frown pulled on his lips. “Baby,” he tutted. “I don’t want you t’do that.”

“S’too late. Spent too many nights without you,” she mumbled.

So, Harry understood. He would have to think of something to help her. But for now, he understood. “M’in love with you,” he reminded her.

“Me too, baby,” she squeezed him making him feel whole.

He cupped the back of her head, kissed the center of her forehead letting his lips press there for so long he hoped it would suction his mouth to her skin just so he never had to let her go ever again. “Can we have French toast in the morning?” She whispered.

He nodded easily, his eyelids felt heavier as they closed, and his chin bumped the top of her head. “Whatever y’want, kitten.”

“Whatever I want?” She murmured.

He nodded again. “Always.”

“Harry?” She whispered. It seemed she got a bit of a second wind from the time he got her off the sofa and brought her to bed. Unfortunately, Harry wasn’t feeling any bit of it. As much as he wanted to stay awake and talk to her for hours on end, he hadn’t slept much the last two days and he felt sleepiness winning over the desire to speak.

“Hmm?” He hummed, almost falling fast asleep before he could hear her again.

“I hate sleeping without you. I never want to do it ever again unless you’re working or you’re on a trip with your family or because Niall wants to sleep with you,” she took a deep breath while Harry smiled and shook his head at her. “So, when we get married, I don’t want to do a single night apart, not even the day before.”

Harry reached for her left hand that rested on his shoulder and he softly rubbed her ring finger. He nodded. Kissed the crown of her head and sighed. “Okay, angel,” he murmured. “No night’s apart that aren’t necessary.”

“I’ll stop talking. You can go to sleep.”

“Don’t get out of bed in the morning,” he murmured and squeezed her tighter. “I hate when y’do that,” he grumbled.

She giggled. “I’ll wake you.”

“Good,” he sighed. “I love you. More than anything.”

“I love you,” she answered. “More than anything.”

--

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I'm sorry if I missed anyone in the taglist. Please let me know if you'd like to join, if it didn't work, if you no longer want to be included, etc. :)

If you like this, check out my masterlist here

[colleendoran]

I am not usually directly on Twitter, accessing it only via apps, and I generally avoid making public political statements unless they are directly related to the art business.

Apparently, my assistant has followed or liked comments there, probably intending to discuss them with me, or for her own interest.

Since I access Twitter via an app, I don't really have much of an idea what's going on at the moment, because I can't read the feed and it limits what comments I can see, but it appears some people are scouring the feeds of creators and trying to pick at them about who they follow or what they "liked".

In those rare moments when I'm on Twitter, I often hit "like" when I really ought to hit "bookmark", to come back to something to read it later, not because I approve of the post. I sometimes follow things to get the news and unfollow after. And as I mentioned, my assistant likes things out of her own interest, or to highlight to screen shot later.

There's been an increasing level of coercive political pressure about the statements and behaviors of the creative class, and this pressure is coming from many different directions. I have no intention of getting involved in 99% of this, and anyone coming to a cartoonist in hopes of deep political insight over matters the finest minds in world history can't seem to solve is really barking up the wrong tree.

I've asked my assistant to stop following any political accounts on my account and to studiously avoid hitting the like button. I'd just as soon not get threats and abuse from total strangers for - I'm not always sure what.

I fully intend to keep up with my interest in the space program, even though that sometimes results in nasty comments I could live without, too.

Whatever, I may simply just go ahead and shut down my twitter account anyway. I can watch the news, I can read the paper, I don't need to be engaging with total strangers over anything in which I have no expertise.

[dewitty1]

Saturday Six (Stuff)

Back at the Farmer's Market today. Still annoyed about how I was spoken to the last time I was there. As if the market manager is my boss, which is not the case. And I'm still pissed that someone who I thought was my friend has broken my confidence.( ಠ ಠ )

There was an ambulance at the market today too. And I had to make the cringe/awkward smile thing you make when you have to interact with a MAGAT pos (they were wearing the propaganda that's how I knew). Also my weirdo neighbor showed up and didn't even recognize me.٩(•̤̀ᵕ•̤́๑)ᵒᵏᵎᵎᵎᵎ

My windshield leaked during the thunderstorm we had last night, so I'm going to have to take it to my landlords again.(*｀へ´*)

The Dudette hates her new job, which is unsurprising being that it's Walmart. And some person had to go and be a dickhead to her on her first real day.（’-’*)

My suit for the wedding that's coming up soon is going to be fantastic! All the way down to my sapphire sparkly shoes!“ψ(｀∇´)ψ

Business is really shite right now and idek what to do. I need some good vibes for some projects before I leave for Wales. (๑•́ ω •̀๑)