#Currently walking home from the pub with my buddies

[kate-bot]

Not a question but I wanted to say I absolutely ADORE your art style and animations! Have a good day/night! :DD

EEEE THANK YOOOUU!!!!! I’m having sm fun doing them so i’m so glad you’re enjoying them too!! hopefully i will be able to make more soon so stay tuned !!!! I hope you have a good day / night as well !!!!!!!:)

[soranihimawari]

Cats & Sweet Starts

Kuroo Tetsurō has been nominated for many things: most likely to succeed, most likely to be chemistry quiz bowl champion, most likely to date a supermodel… but when he stands in front of you at your first JVA-interns reunion, he’s sopping wet from the beer a horrid ex-boyfriend of yours throws at your face. Or at least tried to.

“You always protected ‘em huh Kuroo? Just like helped cover her mistakes when the boss was around,” the jerk scoffs.

“I just did it because you kept putting ‘em down at the board meetings, asshole,” Kuroo says before wiping his face. He turns to you asking if you’re ok, you nods. However, before your old fling at the office leaves, you put your glass down and march right up and sock the idiot who ruined your friend’s suit with your fist.

Kuroo laughs a bit stunned you could hit that hard. Jerk of an ex-fling looks at you and rubs his cheek.

“Pop quiz dickweed,” you square your shoulders in your bar attire. “Before volleyball what was the the one sport I was the captain for?”

The rag doll of a guy who probably has an STD now for being a player looks at you says you probably broke his cheek and you shake your head.

“Does it look like I care? You ruined our reunion. Get out of here,” turns to look at Kuroo with an apologetic smile. “Your suit’s ruined. I really liked that one too….”

An hour or so later, the pub is lively again and you walk together with your current department neighbor at the JVA. He talks about how badass you were after he took the whiskey sour hit on your behalf.

“… but you kicked Kuwabara’s ass. Have you always been that strong?”

You’re at the lobby of Kuroo’s apartment complex about to leave after saying your goodnights.

“Hmm… you didn’t know me in high school, but i guess I still am, haha. Don’t forget I’m paying for your dry cleaning. Just send me in the invoice, ok Kuroo-kun?”

He nods and waves as you head to your home via hailing a cab.

You’re about to be dropped off in your drive way when you piece some things together and tell the driver you’d pay him double to take you back to the apartment complex he picked you up in.

The ride back to Kuroo’s complex was an entertaining one. You tell the driver all about how Kuroo introduced himself in the first day; you were cubicle buddies for the next six to eight months during your internship five years ago; now you’ve officially signed on with him your department and his work on promotional athletes from the national team…

“I’m in merchandise development and he’s in sports contracts,” you say proudly at the light right before the complex.

“And falling in like, happened when?” The driver asks bemused.

“Three years ago when we had to fake a relationship so his family would stop worrying about him too much,” you smile.

“And falling in love…?”

“Two hours ago when my ex splashed a cocktail all over his face…thanks mister.”

You hand the driver some cash and run straight to the elevators.

Meanwhile, Kuroo is on the phone with his team trying to sort out his emotions that are tied to you until one of them turns into all of them saying what he’s known since you bought him that little cactus for his big boy promotion desk. It stares at him everyday and he watered it for a year then on the eve of your friendship anniversary (his idea you went along with), you tell him it’s a fake plant. You and him laughed together over tea time. Kuroo’s friends agree saying he’s just got to for it and see what works.

“I gotta go fellas, thanks,” Kuroo hangs up and though he is in his tank top under shirt and old college sweatpants, his finger hovers over your name on his phone. Sighing he’s about to call you when he hears a knock and goes to open the door after seeing who it was.

“YN?”

You smile brightly apologizing for the late house call after you saw each other not that long ago:

“Excuse me,” you say sternly, standing on your toes to kiss him.

Kuroo’s golden eyes seem matte and warm when you pull away. Your cheek is stroked gently by his curled forefinger and his other hand holds you steady when you return to the ground shoes and all.

“Wh-when?” He lingers near you before you push him inside to close the door behind you. His smile is Cheshire like and cheeks are a soft plum pink under the fluorescent lighting of his living room. He holds your hand and realizes you haven’t answered just yet, but he sees your blush spread.

“Pub,” you laugh and he cups your face to kiss you again. “You?”

“When you reminded me you did judo,” Kuroo laughs too, letting you kiss him for as long as you’re able to. He returns them with as much vitality as he deems worthy.

[benjaminsblog]

Stones & Saviors

This weekend’s activities were sponsored by the letter ‘S’, and I spent it doing some seriously super stuff!

On Friday, I ticked another item off my ‘100 things to do in the UK’ list by visiting Stonehenge. I drove to Salisbury armed with a small picnic (strawberries included) and after a quick wander around the modest visitors centre, I walked a mile-and-a-bit up to the famous site, around it, and back again. Truth be told, it wasn’t as awe-inspiring as I’d hoped – it was certainly cool to see, but it’s definitely a ‘one and done’ kind of activity.

I carried on my way to Southampton to meet Sophie – an ex-Legoland buddy of mine – for a ten-year catch up! When Sophie suggested the renowned Hobbit Pub, I didn’t need any convincing; the place made headlines a while back when it was threatened with legal action unless it changed its name, though evidently some sort of truce was reached as it still stands today. Disappointingly, while the name remains, there isn’t much else of a Middle-Earthy variety – perhaps a result of said lawsuits. Nevertheless, a happy few hours were spent there (and in another nearby pub) before I finally headed back home.

On Saturday, I teamed up with my sister for a long-expected outing – Green Day were in town for their ‘Saviors’ tour! They are God’s my favourite band and although I’ve been lucky enough to see them twice before, both occasions were in 2013 so it was another decade-long reunion of sorts! Green Day were celebrating anniversaries of their own, as their two biggest albums Dookie & American Idiot hit big milestones this year (30 and 20 years old respectively). During their 2013 tour, they made a big to-do of Dookie’s impending 20th and often played the entire album front-to-back; the prospect of this happening for American Idiot had me very excited, as it was the first album I ever bought myself and something of a musical awakening for me.

I got my wish – Dookie and A.I. were played in their entirety, bookended by some of their other hits. They were as polished as ever, and despite being a self-described punk rock band, the overriding vibe of the show was one of love and togetherness; Billie Joe often took the time to thank the sellout crowd for their support, and there was a couple of cool cameos: Billie Joe’s son came onstage to play alongside them for one song, and later on he picked out a pink-haired girl from the crowd who got to sing along and nab a quick selfie before leaping off the front of the stage into the arms of her fellow fans!

I will admit that as the show went on, I struggled a bit with the sound – or rather, the balance of it; I was in no danger of failing to hear them, but it wasn’t always the clearest sound, meaning that sometimes I couldn’t pick out the various sources too well. Certainly, if I didn’t know their music catalogue inside out, I might have gotten lost at certain moments, and any time Billie Joe proclaimed something to the crowd I often couldn’t make it out. But, knowing them for the seasoned professionals they are, I chose not to let it colour my opinion of them and blame it on some poor unnamed sound engineer. Blame the ops!

I stayed over at Hannah’s for a bit more bro-sis time on Sunday; the original plan had been to go to the end-of-the-month pub quiz that she often attends, but thanks to bloody England playing at bloody 5pm, they postponed it ‘til next bloody Sunday! On the bright side, it meant bonus time with Padrig, Hannah’s current house guest. Isn’t he a stunner?!

[lindsaywesker]

Good morning! I hope you slept well and feel rested? Currently sitting at my desk, in my study, attired only in my blue towelling robe, enjoying my first cuppa of the day. Happy Hump Day!

Yesterday was six hours of teaching! It’s challenging, make no mistake but, fortunately, I am good. No … like … really good! It’s the best show in town! They shake my hand or fist bump me at the end of the lesson and thank me! I love that! I really appreciate that! Hard work but so rewarding! Yesterday, we analysed the K-Pop industry; a million miles from the UK music industry but very interesting. At the moment, there are only two UK acts in the Global Top 10 (Harry Styles and Ed Sheeran), whereas there are THREE Korean acts in the Global Top 10. Would we have more acts in the Global Top 10 if we returned to the days of One Direction, and even Spice Girls, Boyzone, Westlife, All Saints and Take That? The global market loves boy bands and girl groups singing pop music. Why have we stopped doing that?

Saw a very interesting idea on my X (Twitter) feed the other day and saw a very interesting video on TikTok a few days later. Both posts are connected. The idea might seem a bit controversial but I really like it. The idea is: marriage licenses should only last for 20 years. Then, at the end of 20 years, the couples can decide whether they want to re-new their vows or not. Divorce is very expensive, so why not? If things are going good: no problem. If things are going bad: both parties just walk away. And this ties in to a video I saw of a woman explaining why men are so reluctant to get married; divorce courts always favour women and might even make the man homeless! He loses half of everything and she probably gets the kids too. Who needs that? Of course, there is a such a thing as a prenuptial agreement but how many ordinary couples sign that? In fact, this explains why some men are reluctant to even embark on a relationship! Commitment issues? No. Not wanting to be homeless issues!

Big love to my buddy Stevie Dundee, who has involved me in his Scorpio celebration at The White Lion (Streatham) on Saturday, November 4th. There will be four Scorps in attendance: me, Stevie, Jigs and Dee DeeMure plus a supporting cast of top quality jocks. I remember first meeting Stevie down the road at another pub. He was promoting club nights at this place and it was hot’n’sweaty, and then there was a basement downstairs that was dark, hot’n’sweaty. I think we can safely assume that Stevie likes hot’n’sweaty because, as you know, The White Lion is what I call a ‘get down’ place. They don’t just dance, they get down! If you’re anywhere near Streatham High Road on that day, it would be lovely to see you.

Once I finish at 4.00 today, my weekend begins! Working from home Thursday and Friday. Thursday night, I shall be at John Saunderson’s networking event at Tileyard. Not really work. More a right laugh! This beautiful girl who works at LCCM is showcasing there, so I’m looking forward to seeing her. I shall also be taking countless selfies of me and some other old geezers.

On Saturday night, my crazy, little niece Katie-Frou is hosting a baby shower. Yes, she is bringing a new granddaughter into my life! You know what that means; I will be TOTAL PUTTY in the hands of this little girl. Sunday afternoon: The Trouble and I will have a quick meet up with one of our favourite people (and her daughter).

Have a wonderful and well-endowed Wednesday. I love you all. Yes, a crazy, bald man loves and cares about you.

[antidotesprout]

I Want You To Stay (Piers x GN!Reader)

CW: Alcohol, Drunken conduct, vague mentions of past physical abuse, mentions of alcoholism

Rating: T?

Angsty Fluff while taking care of a sad drunk, nothing spicy.

The call came in at one in the morning, as it had almost every Friday night for just under the last 2 years.

You’d learned to just stay up on Fridays, watching a movie or reading and waiting on the anticipated call. Sure enough, the slightly grumpy worker on the other end let you know that, once again, Piers required your assistance.

(A/N: Not so much a songfic based on "I Want You To Stay" by Maximo Park as like, that song is just the mood/energy. Also one of my headcanon Piers singing voices so like.. give it a listen I guess. Sketch at the end of crying drunk Piers because I'm a mess and my brain won't stOP)

The call came in at one in the morning, as it had almost every Friday night for just under the last 2 years.

You’d learned to just stay up on Fridays, watching a movie or reading and waiting on the anticipated call. Sure enough, the slightly grumpy worker on the other end let you know that, once again, Piers required your assistance.

You had met a certain Gym Leader and musician at the Spikemuth Chamber of Commerce’s New Year’s Eve Bash™️, and after a few Chamber-related mishaps that you’d been assigned to handle relating to his Gym, you’d developed a friendly rapport. In what seemed like very little time, he'd felt comfortable enough to reach out to you on nights like this. 

Thank god he had built-in babysitters with the more responsible members of Team Yell, otherwise you’d be seriously concerned about his childcare capabilities doing this on an almost weekly basis. Though, the fact he decided to not go home blitzed out of his mind probably showed more concern for his younger sister than anything.

You left your apartment dressed in sweats and an oversized hoodie to protect you from the cold night air, and walked the brief distance to the metal door of the neon-soaked pub. Going inside, your eyes immediately met the bartender’s, the one who had actually placed the call. They nodded towards your charge, hunched over a table in the back corner– cheek pressed to the surface, still gripping onto a glass with melted ice on the bottom. Your eyes returned to the establishment's keeper and you shot them an apologetic smile and a shrug. You don’t know why he’d always come into this hole-in-the-wall of a bar alone after a gig. 

Maybe it was to get a little alone time to decompress after the overwhelming crowds of a concert. Maybe it was just because he knew it was close to your flat, and that you’d always come to get him. 

You knew you probably should refuse, teach him to be more responsible. In spite of basically becoming the Chamber’s designated ‘talk to the intimidating looking city mascot’ person at the office because ‘you were about the same age, right?’ you were in no way responsible for his actions.

But… abandoning him when he needed help would seriously make you feel like an asshole.

You reached out a hand to his shoulder, shaking it. “Hey buddy, c’mon, it’s time to go.” His eyelids fluttered open, pale green eyes with blown out pupils met your own. You had to chuckle, because currently you probably both had matching bags under your eyes. “Mmmsorry, din’t meena this time...” he started to mumble, pushing himself up on his elbows. You shushed him, slipping the lanky man’s arm over your shoulder and supporting his waist. You pretended not to notice when his head hit your shoulder and his lips grazed your neck.

You dug the cost of his tab and a fairly generous tip out of the wad of cash in your pocket, knowing Piers would pay you back, and left it on the bartop. With a casual salute to the barkeep you pushed out into the cold night air to walk the block to your flat, spikey friend stumbling drunkenly at your hip.

After somehow managing to drag him up the stairs while he uttered a thousand mumbled apologies, you finally were able to get him through the door of your apartment and, using his own uneven momentum, maneuvered him to your old couch. With some minor struggling, mostly due to his unsteady movements, you were able to remove the stiff leather jacket he had performed with, the lining slightly damp with sweat. He exhaled in what was probably actually a burp, slumping down into the well worn cushions. “Mmmdad was ‘nalcoholic y’know…” he started to slur. You patted his knees, a silent request to lift his leg, one at a time, giving you access to remove his heavy boots so he didn’t get dirt all over your furniture. You only paused for a moment to smile at his zigzagoon patterned socks. “Wuzzah a mean drunk tho. Hit me an’ mum. Probly would’ve hit Marn.” you nodded, setting his boots by the door. You'd heard this story before. You had never met the previous Gym Leader, but you'd heard enough from others and Piers to know he was an absolute menace, but not in the charming way like Piers was. 

What you hadn’t heard before though, and what made your head shoot up was the sniffles that came next. 

There he was, the notoriously tough punk rocker, head tilted back, letting tears pour from his still open eyes “Couldn’ do that to people I love. Not Marn. Not you.” Your eyebrows furrowed at him as you flushed slightly, but knew it was more likely a drunk’s slip of the tongue. Something embarrassing he wouldn’t even remember in the morning. 

You snapped out of it. Wasn't the first time he had implied or outright said he loved you while drunk, probably wouldn't be the last. He was just an emotional and affectionate drunk.

What he said right now wasn't important.

Right now, you had to make sure he had something in his stomach besides booze and that he was hydrated. The Chamber would probably be pissed if their sponsored Gym Leader went into work hungover and you weren't about to let that happen. Taking the few steps to the small corner that constitutes a kitchen in your apartment, you put some tap water into one of your larger mugs (why did you have so many mugs?) and grabbed a snack you knew he'd like. Walking over to your couch you plopped down next to your crying companion "Piers, we all know you aren't like your dad. You're fine." Wet green orbs rolled to look at you as you spoke "Well, you won't be if we don't get some food and water in you." He nodded, rubbing his tears and snot away with one hand as you forced the water-filled mug into the other. You honestly wish you'd had something with a lid to give him but thankfully he managed to finish the water with only minimal spillage.

Taking the mug from him to set aside, you then pressed the snack bag into his chest. His arms stayed limply at his side. Unfocused eyes looking directly at you he just opened his mouth.

Oh hell no.

"Piers, I am not feeding you." you said flatly, looking unimpressed. This was met with a drunken whine as his expression changed to a glower. To the untrained eye, he might’ve looked threatening, but to you he just resembled a giant toddler. "Pouting won't change my mind, you know. Where's Mr. 'I can handle this'? Old Mr. Responsibility?" Continuing his whine he finally moved to break into the previously opened bag and feed himself, flopping down on the pillow to the opposite side of the couch from you. You took the opportunity to go back to the sink for more water when you heard him mumble something. Rejoining him on the couch you asked to repeat himself. He definitely was still having a tantrum, refusing to make any kind of eye contact. Between crunches you were able to make it out:

"Fed me on newwyears tho."

Had you? You flicked back through your memories from a couple weeks back. It had been the second New Year's party with the Chamber, this time you'd actually cut loose a bit more than your first one, when you were trying desperately to impress the higher-ups. You do know you hung out with Piers quite a bit that night, and you'd gotten so used to taking care of him drunk– well, it seemed plausible. "Yeah, well, I was drunker than you are now. Shouldn't get your hopes up," You smirked and leaned over to ruffle his already mussed ponytail with your non-mug-occupied hand. He still refused to meet your gaze.

You sighed at the sulking inebriated adult you’d found yourself caring for.

“I got you more water.” you held the refilled mug out towards him. He hummed but continued crunching away. Ah yes, holding a grudge over something silly as only a drunk man could.

“Piers…”

His eyes darted over to your frustrated and dismayed expression and he begrudgingly sat up straight again, but over-corrected and ended up with his head on your shoulder, his beloved munchies set aside and forgotten. “S’fine. Mmjus gonna waiddil nex’ year,” you could feel him grinning drunkenly into you. Like whiplash this man was. 

“Okay so you’re going to finish this water,” you offered him the mug again, taking advantage of his mood shift. He accepted it again, holding it in both hands to keep it steady. Drinking greedily he hummed an affirmative.

“And then after that, you’re going to get some sleep, right?”

“Mmmmhm,” he mumbled into the mug, as it quickly ran empty. A refreshed exhale declared the water part of the agreement finished, now it was time for the sleep part. This was punctuated by him pressing the empty container into your chest. Once it was firmly in your grasp, he immediately flopped back onto the couch, but his legs still hung off around you in a way you were sure wasn’t comfortable.

Getting up to set the mug in the sink, you helped right him on the couch so he had his legs up. Once the mug had been handled, you reached for the blanket sloppily folded over a chair back from the last time he had crashed at yours. You tossed it over him from behind the couch in such a way that it covered all but his ponytails, which were themselves slung over the armrest haphazardly. He flipped it off his face with one arm swung up and a grunt, much to your amusement. You bent over the couch back, leaning on your elbows, looking down at the man whose companionship you’d come to value over the last couple years.

“Okay, if you don’t need anything else, I’ll be heading to bed myself. You good?”

For the second time that night, Piers managed to surprise you when the hand that had shoved the blanket away softly grasped the arm of your hoodie. You looked at the hand and then met his eyes, once again looking a little misty.

“Stay.”

“You know we won’t both fit comfortably on this couch, Piers.”

“S’fine. Jus stay. Please.”

And how could you abandon him when he really needed you?

—-

I always said you could rely on me

Now it seems that I was wrong

I want you to stay

I want you to stay with me

—-

[wexhappyxfew]

i’ve been meaning to do this for quite some time now and the time hit me later this evening and bam! this is for @mercurygray ‘s challenge she had set for valentine’s day and the time never really came for me during that portion of the month and so i decided to do it a bit later on and yay the time finally arrived lol! so, this is my take on a new oc + a blind date idea with my favorite boy! :) enjoy!!

introducing minnie thomas of whitley, england!

The Primrose by the Riverbed

London, England - December, 1943

London had always been her dream as a child.

To walk the cobblestone streets, sit on the wooden benches of the parks, feed the birds that flew through the sky, and visit the pubs late into the night.

Yet dreams were always fleeting in her time.

Living in the town of Whitley, she spent her days in the fields by the South Brook, picking flowers from the ground and running up the mud covered banks, while racing through fields of soft, sun-kissed grass; her youth had been bred for her there.

But with the food shortages and the high unemployment rates, dinner some nights had been nothing more than bread that had to be portioned out throughout the week for a family of 6, and a stick of weekly butter that had to spare the family for just long enough.

Of course, they had the two cows in the wooden farm on the plot of land her father had in his family for generations, and they provided just a meager amount of milk for breakfast in the morning. The chickens didn't produce enough eggs anymore, but Minnie almost always forgave the little things, they were old girls anyway - she didn't blame them. When the war had come, the war effort picked up, stock increased, the factories were moving ahead in production well enough, and suddenly there was an air of a willingness to fight, to continue to grow as a nation and unite, and finally come together as one.

That's when Harvey and Chester had been drafted for the war and communication had dwindled to letters that drew even more rare as the modern slew of war took its affect.

Little Vivian had watched them go off, and her optimism had stayed for a few days before disappearing when she realized her brothers might never come home.

And so Minnie did what she could for her younger sister along with her parents - working odd jobs throughout the day, traveling to surrounding towns at night to work jobs at the local pubs, just to bring in a spare bit of money to place in the jar on the wooden counter by the kitchen sink window.

London became a reality once she had taken a chance at singing in Swindon in early 1941 on a cold evening in March.

The Old Thameside Inn had been her residence for that evening in December, sitting at the bar, drumming her fingers against the glass of water in front of her, listening to the gentle thrum of one of the singers, sing the sad, soulful tune, which squeezed just a bit tighter at her heart than normal.

The chatter amongst the crowd in the pub danced through the ear drums and the sweet scent of perfumes and flowers that dusted the tables settled about the place.

The jingle of the bell that rung at the entrance where little off-white lights were currently lit, dinged a little tune and Minnie glanced over her shoulder the slightest bit to find a group of American men sauntering in.

They seemed to swagger, moving from side to side, their voices breaking through the low chatter of the London townsfolk. Minnie curiously tilted her head to the side and watched them, if what she could suggest was, playfully smack the other with a brother-like affection, before sharing the cigarette rolled in between their finger tips.

Minnie turned around again, snuggling a bit into her pale green dress, the Mary-Janes strapped to her feet with the little white-lace socks, hanging just above the ground. It was quiet again.

" Hey there." a voice said from her left and Minnie felt her cheeks warm the slightest bit as she, quite innocently, glanced to her left, peaking a brow upwards towards whoever was now seated beside her.

They were American and their accent, though not terribly thick, she could tell they were American. His hair was quite gelled, hanging in his eyes a little bit, but they were bright, the soft brown glowing in the irises, and a boyish smile drawn on his lips. His uniform was a little disheveled but if anything, it made the dimple in her cheek appear from the nervous smile that had appeared on her lips.

" Hello." she said quietly, nervously tapping the side of the glass of water in front of her. Minnie watched the man smile at the sound of her voice and sat upright quite proudly beside her.


" All alone?" Minnie watched him - quite the greeting, she suspected it were an American thing - and as if in a joking tone, mimicked him in sitting upright beside him. She watched him smirk.

" Maybe." she said, attempting to elegantly shrug her shoulders, smiling again beside him as she looked upwards towards him. The man beside her let out a chuckle, which made her stomach flip a bit inside, like a rupture of butterflies had been let go.

" Any suggestions then?" the man asked her," For a good drink?" Minnie let out a small laugh, feeling a soft glow of pink dust upon her cheeks as she met his gaze.

" Well...I've heard they have fantastic fresh-brewed beer." she said, nodding up towards him with a wide smile," Some of the best in all of London." The soldier smiled a gentle smile.

" You seem to know the place well then." he said and she smiled, before shyly looking towards him.

" Minnie Thomas." she said, holding her hand out towards him. The man smirked gently before bringing his hand forward to shake her own.


" Joe Liebgott," he said, before leaning forward a bit, “ Joseph - if we wanna get fancy." Minnie laughed at his teasing tone as they retracted hands and returned to occupying their individual pub seats.

" It's nice to meet you then, Joseph Liebgott." she said and Joe chuckled as he glanced at her.

" The pleasure's mine, Minnie Thomas." he said and Minnie grinned, before clearing her throat.


" What brings you to London?" she asked quietly, tapping her fingers against the edge of her glass of water," Besides the war." Joe smiled.

" A few of my buddies and I wanted some time out here before training really picked up here. Don over there thought this was the place to be. Saw it in a paper." Joe explained and Minnie couldn't help but feel a smile grow on her face at the thought of the little Inn where her first gig had been, finally growing.

" Then I welcome you to London." Minnie said, sitting up straight again, a little mimic of the man," Just outside you have the Thames River, London Bridge just beyond that and King's College just a bit deeper inward, shops along the side, parks residing on many corners and newspaper shops just nearby. And a few secret pubs that I could possibly gain you access to if you are so inclined." She smiled wide towards him as she sipped her water, watching a chuckle arise again.

" You grew up here then?" Minnie felt her shoulders drop a bit as she clasped her hands together in front of her.

" It was always my dream." she said, smiling softly towards him as a round of cheers for the singer on the stage finished their song. Joe glanced over her shoulder, but then softly found her eyes again.

" You didn't...?" Minnie giggled, shaking her head.

" I'm afraid not." she said as Joe laughed.

" Man, who would've thought, you know the place so well." he said and Minnie laughed lightly.

" Whitley was my home and I feel it always will be." she said, smiling at the thought of the little home by the South Brook with the wildflowers and the rocks and the mudbanks. She smiled wider again and looked towards him.

" It was beautiful. Just a cottage, by a brook, 2 cows, a few chickens. It was....peaceful. Somedays, especially today I just wish I could just go back, forget the war, forget it all." Minnie said, and Joe grinned.


" Peace sounds nice." he said and Minnie giggled at his slightly nervous laughter that emitted in his words," Maybe that's a dream that'll come true too." Minnie glanced at him softly, watching him in the soft light of the pub, his dark eyes watching her form, such a gentle aura radiating from his being as he said there watching her.

" For both of us." she said quietly and Joe watched her, leaned up against the pub table quietly, with his gaze resting on hers.

“ I hope you get that some day, Joe.” she said quietly to him, gently reaching her hands forward to take one of his warm hands in her own, his soft skin, paired with his calloused palms clasped in her own as he softly glanced up towards her, feeling as she cradled his hand so carefully within her own.

Joe watched her softly, this young woman who could’ve been no older than 20, stand there as if she were some sort of primrose by the river, an ethereal being or even a gentle doe in the mist of an early morn where the sun rays were nearly blinding but to the point where it was a soft comfort in those hours.

Joe took her hands this time within his own and held them, watching them softly, feeling the want to just hold them and never let go. Yet, in this sleepy pub by the London Bridge and the Thames river, it was almost as if on a whim the two knew they’d never cross paths again. Maybe in another life where young love rekindled the tiny spark that was made this cold December eve, maybe a time where war and an ocean didn’t separate the two souls alike, and there wasn’t an enemy in their path.

Maybe.

Brushing his lips against the tender skin of her sweet-smelling hands, like a hint of rosemary almost, he pressed a soft kiss there. As if a hope that she’d find the peace she had always wanted and that he would someday do the same. Maybe not tonight but in the future that called their name.

Minnie watched Joe as he softly pulled back and held her hands in his own for a fleeting moment after.

Just a boy and a girl, sat in the dimly lit pub that smelled of winter air and the sad, soulful song of the singer on stage, warped by war and an ocean apart, yet held together by that string of hope for a possible sprinkle of peace in both their futures.

Just maybe.

[ackerdaddy]

The Butterfly Effect [Levi x Reader]: Chapter 1

Hey y’all, here’s the first chapter of my story I’m currently writing.

“Hey miss, another round!”

“Two more over here as well.”

“Be with you in just a second,” you tossed casually over your shoulder as you filled yet another martini glass to the brim. The warmth of the bodies crowding the bar and softness of the dimmed light enveloped your body as you worked, while loud music and chatter floated around you and up to the ceiling as you continued pouring and mixing tirelessly. This night felt as if it would never end.

Make no mistake, you loved working nights at the local pub – you were one hell of a bartender – but there were some nights where your shift seemed to drag on and on.

After what seemed like an eternity, you enviously watched the final remaining couples saunter out into the gusty October night; their flushed faces boasting hues of satisfying liquor and cuisine. You sighed and averted your gaze from their silhouettes huddled together as the front door slammed shut behind them and glared at your distorted face in the glass you were currently polishing, suddenly feeling an unwanted emptiness creep into your heart.

“Leave that to me Kat. You need to go home and get your rest,” Natalie appeared behind you, nearly causing you to drop the glass in your hands. Your co-worker and close friend snickered at your clumsiness and snatched the glass and towel from your hands, all but pushing you out the door.

“Thanks Nat, I’m exhausted,” you smiled gratefully at her and proceeded to the kitchen to say goodnight to the chef; as was good restaurant etiquette. “Have a good night Joseph!” you waved at him and threw the back door open, finally free.

“Be careful! Drive safe!” he called after you, his voice faintly travelling through the already closing door behind you.

“Always am,” you muttered to no one in particular as you made your way to the car. The cold, harsh northern climate made you regret leaving your cozy bar, the wind tearing through your jeans and thin shirt.

‘Almost there’, you thought to yourself as your feet dragged on through the final stretch to your car in the far lot. Had you not have had your head downcast and hood shielding your face from the wind, you might have noticed the figure slouched against the fence to your right.

“Fuck,” you cursed as your boot caught something and you stumbled forwards, nearly steadying your footing in time before falling completely. “What the hell?” you exclaimed quietly as you turned to investigate what had caused you to trip, only to find a man sitting slumped, unconscious against the parking lot fence. “Hey, buddy,” you lightly nudged the end of his tall boot with the toe of your own. “Come on, I don’t have time for this. Do you want me to call you a cab?” you said coldly, having been fed up with dealing with drunks for one night. “Seriously, wake up. You’re gonna freeze out here.” You informed, eyeing his thin clothes and . . . cape? Examining his attire more thoroughly, you realized just how strangely this man was dressed. Still not receiving a response, you decided to pat him down to check and see if he had a wallet or phone, or at least something that could help identify him. You gasped aloud when you felt a hand dart out and grasp your wrist with a surprising amount of force.

“What do you think you’re doing?” a deep, monotone voice questioned.

“I’m just trying to help. Do you have someone you can call?” you asked. The figure in front of you offered no response but the grip on your wrist did not loosen. You were suddenly very aware of the fact that you were in an unlit parking lot alone with a complete stranger. “Look, it’s two in the morning and I don’t know what you’re doing passed out in a parking lot, but can you at least tell me where you live or the name of someone – ”

“Who the hell are you?”                                                                        

“My name’s Katarina. I don’t see why that matters. Now, if you could just –”

“I don’t need your help,” he said flatly, cutting you off again. You pinched the bridge of your nose in frustration and exhaled deeply, lifting your eyes back up to his face. You were shocked to discover that he was staring intently back at you, confusion clouding his piercing grey eyes.

“Okay fine,” you huffed. “At least let me give you the extra coat in my car. You’re going to catch a cold in whatever the hell you’re wearing. What kind of outfit is that? Halloween isn’t for another 17 days – was there some sort of convention or something? Because it’s not bad cosplay, I’ll give you that,” you joked, trying to lighten the mood. Your efforts were futile however, and a pang of worry hit you when you saw that he had no idea what you were talking about.

“I could ask you the same thing,” he said, eyeing your own revealing clothing. You shivered, feeling the heat of his intense gaze sweeping over you.

“Do you have a phone to call a cab?” you pressed, ignoring his comment. He simply raked his hand through his raven fringe and averted his eyes, avoiding your stern gaze. Genuinely concerned for his safety, you tentatively asked “Do you know what I’m talking about?” Again, no response. “Do you know what a phone is?” Nothing. “Do you know what a cab is?” Silence. “Are you suffering from amnesia?”

“Something like that,” he whispered and released his death grip on your wrist, “Just leave me alone,” he spat, turning his head to once more look back into your eyes. Although he was very guarded and standoffish, you could sense his underlying fear and uneasiness and were genuinely concerned for him. You pondered over what you should do. You couldn’t very well just leave him here, could you? He didn’t seem like he had bad intentions.

‘I’m such a fucking idiot. Always the martyr’, you inwardly kicked yourself for what you were about to say.

“Can you stand on your own? I can take you back to my place – just for the night so you don’t die out here in the cold,” you offered your hand to him, but he slapped it away and slowly pulled himself off the gravel, leaning heavily on the fence for support. He just stood for a minute unmoving, and looked you up and down as if weighing his options carefully.

“I don’t need the help of some girl, let alone one dressed like that. You should be careful of who you just invite back to your home,” he said in a judging tone.

“Yeah, sure,” you waved his rude comment away, “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that because you obviously are in need of help and are either too stupid or too stubborn to ask for it.” You began to make your way to your car, half hoping he’d follow, and half hoping he’d walk in the other direction. After a few agonizing seconds you heard the crunch of gravel under his boots as he followed behind you. You reached your car and unlocked the front doors, grateful to get out of the cold. Another few seconds passed before you realized the man was standing outside the passenger door with a baffled expression on his face; he was staring at your car as if he’d never seen one in his life.

“For fuck’s sake; what the hell am I getting myself into?” you cursed under your breath and reached awkwardly across the console of the car to pull the handle and swing open the passenger door. The man climbed into the seat, looking more confused than ever. He regarded the dash of the car along with all the different buttons and knobs with scrunched eyebrows and a frown.

“You better put your seatbelt on,” you told him while gesturing towards his seat. When he just stared blankly at you, you let out a frustrated huff and reached over once more to grab his seatbelt and click it into place. The man just stared straight ahead with a menacing scowl plastered on his face to mask the slight blush you could barely make out in the dark car, obviously embarrassed that he needed help with something such as a seatbelt – or so you thought.

“So you got a name?” you asked while you busied yourself with adjusting the heater and putting the car into gear. You figured he at least owed you that. When the vehicle lurched into motion, his hands darted out to grip the dash of the car, uncertainty and fear etched into his pale features. You simply sighed and continued driving; you were almost used to his silence and strange behaviour by now.

“Levi.”

“Nice to meet you Levi,” you smiled warmly at him.

“Tch,” he examined you with cold eyes and turned his head away from you to peer out the window.

The rest of the half hour car ride continued in this fashion. The silence wasn’t all that bad though; you almost appreciated it after the rowdiness of the pub. A little ways into the trip, Levi seemed to finally relax slightly into his seat which put you at ease.

“This is me,” you pointed to the small apartment complex that grew taller in the windshield as you pulled closer into your parking space. The jingle of your keys echoed loudly in the empty stairwell as you climbed towards your destination. Reaching your apartment door, you jammed the key into the door and kicked it open, longing to get off your aching feet after a long shift. You turned around to see Levi standing hesitantly in the doorway. “What do you think?” you asked, sweeping your arms in a grand gesture around your small, underwhelming studio apartment.

“It’s a shit mess,” he stated curtly, eyes sweeping around carefully with a judging expression. There was something else behind those eyes . . . surprise? Confusion? Astonishment?

[nothingleftinlife]

Bar-stool Accident Prompt

I know I have a problem with midnight posting, but it’s the only time I really have the free time away from other humans in my home to post. Regardless, on with the prompt.

I was out with a couple buddies the other night and we had seen some ladies walk out of a nearby pub. They clearly had nothing too strong, just something to have a good time. But, as my disgusting, pee-fueled brain works, I began thinking of some omorashi scenarios. Mainly alcohol-related, obviously. The main one I became fixated on was an accident in a bar/pub setting, so here’s a better rendition of my idea.

Possibility A: Character A is out with their friends (B through Z if you wish, but there will be two other characters- B and C- for this exercise) for a good Saturday night. Now, A is a known lightweight, so B and C perhaps try to keep A from getting too drunk. Unfortunately, despite their friends’ best efforts, A gets drunk. Luckily, B and C are pretty intimidating- either through verbal intimidation or their physical stature- so A won’t catch any issues with anyone else in the bar/pub. Though one thing both B and C both happen to remember is one thing that A certainly can’t remember; Their bladder. A doesn’t come up to B or C to ask where the bathroom is, so the thought doesn’t even cross either’s mind. Over the last few minutes, one of the TV’s behind the bar with a sport of A’s liking (your choice, my personal pick is boxing) has attracted the trio’s attention. A victory (a goal, a basket, a hole-in-one, a knockout, et cetera) plays over the TV and A, B C and some others around the bar cheer. A gets really excited, but when the hype dies down, it’s replaced by a quiet dripping. B and C share a look for quite a few seconds, trying to identify their sounds. They suddenly both realize what it could be and whip around to A, who’s clothes are darkening as rivulets of warm pee run down the bar-stool’s legs and their own.

Possibility B: Maybe B or C do think to acknowledge A’s bladder and decide to keep their eyes on A. They’re quite wrapped up in the sport on the TV, but every once in a while, B or C ask if they need to pee. Every time, they get a drunken “No, no I dhon-needa pee.” Eventually B or C need to pee. Because they know A, in their current state, is not capable of defending themselves, they can’t both go. So, B and C ‘rock-paper-scissors’, and whoever wins gets to go. However, whoever loses (your choice, though B will win for this exercise) needs to go more- they should have used that system, damn! B is gone way longer than C hoped, but when B finally emerges from the bathroom- C is quite on the verge of wetting themselves. Of course, it’s then that a victory is won on the sport over the TV, and the entire pub goes wild. The ensuing noise, pressure and jostling from nearby bodies to just too much for C.

[peterparkerstarker]

Kinktober Day 28: Getting Caught (Starker)

As I mentioned last night, this fic is the most self indulgent, self insert fic I’ll probably ever write.

It’s very much based on my own experiences in my early 20s, when I was best friends/fuckbuddies with a ridiculously hot guy twice my age. People always assumed he was my dad, which amused us to no end. Some liberties were taken, but much of this is pretty accurate to my actual 21st birthday. I hope y’all enjoy!

Cw: Starker, age difference, college!Peter (age 21), greying!Tony (early 40s), drinking/drunkenness, incest kink, Tony lying/pretending to be related to Peter to strangers, pda, implied exhibition kink

@readysetstarker @jwolf18791 @warathena418 @pray4meireadstarker @thotticusmaxximus @mvrphyblooms @morgoona-stark @silkystark @untold-royalty @pollyparrot8 @sthefystarkersworld @katzenbaby1 @another-starker-hoe @tony-is-my-daddy @mystarkershame @plsstopgivingpetertrauma @hoeforthegays @lonleystarker @awesomeimportantfan @friendlyneighborhoodlosxr @hpspazz @starker-obsessions @starkershomelife @tightaroundthewebslinger @animefan1998-love @peterpissparker @starkercandy @loki-helmet @petecake @starkercrossedlovers vers @nerdylocksandthethreebears @thirstyhoe4yoongi @starker-reader @starkerissemiok @tomhollabel @momobaby227 @dragonskittysblog @sleepy-and-depressed @disneyprincessdominatrix @lesbianstarker @starkerintheparker @arachnioxide @caseysroses

“Cheers!” Tony said, kissing Peter on the cheek.

Their glasses clinked hard, liquid sloshing down Peter’s hand as he pulled it to his lips to shoot it back. He set the shot glass down a little harder than he’d intended, but it was a little hard to have as much control over his fine motor skills after a martini, a previous shot and a beer. This was the fourth bar they’d been to tonight, and it was starting to blur a little now.

When Tony had insisted on taking him out bar hopping on his 21st birthday he’d been so excited.

It’s not like he’d never drank before. He’d had glasses of wine at Tony’s on quiet nights in. He’d had a full bottle at that rager Tony had thrown a couple months ago followed by shots of Fireball. That had been a mistake, he’d discovered later that night as Tony tried his best to take care of him through the late night sickness and resulting hangover. He’d learned his lesson after that and had kept it to a couple glasses max ever since.

But he’d never been out to a bar before. And this was special. Tony had made a huge fuss about wanting to be the one to show Peter all the good bars now that he was of legal drinking age, and suggested they try a different drink at each stop so Peter could experience different kinds of drinks and figure out his favorites.

The first stop had been a British style pub, greasy sausages and fish and chips and roast potatoes abound. Tony had sauntered up to the bar and ordered them both some kind of dark beer that looked foamy and creamy smooth on top, but smelled vaguely of coffee and tasted like bitter sadness. Peter couldn’t help but scrunch his face up at the taste as Tony chuckled, but he’d finished it all the same, determined not to be outpaced by a man twice his age.

Peter had been excited to see a vintage red phone booth near the entrance, so he gleefully dragged Tony over to take pictures of him posing inside it. Tony had played the annoyed too-cool for all this role, but Peter caught him grinning when he thought he wasn’t looking.

They’d scarfed down the pub food, not paying a lick of attention to the rugby match playing on TVs in the background, and planned their next stop. Tony had compiled a list of options and drinks he recommended from each, and they eventually settled on a cool bar around the corner from their current spot that was famous for their lemon drop shots and crazy mod decor.

Their pub waitress had flashed a big grin when Tony set down big bills to pay for their meal and told her to keep the change. It was probably more than she’d make for all her other tabs combined tonight.

“You two are so cute, you know? I couldn’t help but overhear that it’s your 21st birthday,” she said, focusing in on Peter. “I think it’s so sweet you wanted to go out with your dad for your big day. More kids should have that kind of relationship with their parents,” she gushed.

Peter could feel his face heating up, a blush pooling in his cheeks fire-hot. “Something like that… thanks,” he muttered, not knowing what to say.

This wasn’t the first time someone assumed Tony was his dad, but it always embarrassed him a little in the moment. He understood it. Tony was literally 20 years older and if you squinted you might think they looked like each other. Plus the comfortable camaraderie they had didn’t help.

It wasn’t his fault that his best friend and fuck buddy happened to be a strikingly handsome greying man twice his age. He was pretty used to it by now, but he wasn’t expecting Tony’s bold response when it came.

“I’m so proud of you kiddo. You’re all grown up now. I remember when he was yeigh high and begged me to play Hot Wheels with him.” Tony said, flashing a dazzling grin at the waitress who cooed at the fake story. “I’m a lucky dad for sure.”

Peter shot a sharp glare at Tony, but he ignored it and the waitress didn’t seem to notice. She rang out their bill and wished them a good rest of the night, happy to have a sizeable take home pay for the evening.

“What the fuck was that?” Peter asked through gritted teeth as they left the restaurant and felt the cold bite of the breeze outside.

“What?” Tony asked nonchalantly. “I was just playing along.”

Peter rolled his eyes, adjusting his scarf against the chilly air and pouted.

“C’mon now baby boy. No crying on your birthday,” Tony teased, pulling him into an empty alleyway and kissing him feverishly. His tongue tasted bitter like the beer, but Peter found he didn’t mind it so much when Tony’s hands were roaming all over, playfully grabbing at his ass and caressing his neck. It was a delicious distraction from his irritation about the dad thing. All hunger and no sweetness. Just raw need. He liked when Tony took what he wanted.

They pulled away after a few long moments, startled by the sound of hooting across the street from some passersby. He’d taken a moment to re-adjust his scarf and knit hat before letting Tony lead him down the road to their next adventure. The taste of Tony’s mouth lingered like a bite on his lips.

The next stop had been quick. The bar was packed with college kids eager to blow off steam after midterms and he’d hardly been able to hear Tony over the din. The place was wild, crowded with mismatched plastic futuristic tables, chairs covered in dizzying floral patterns and bizarre lamps. It wasn’t his style, but he could appreciate their commitment to the theme.

The lemon drop shot was disappointingly warm when he drank it in one gulp. The bartender had been trying to crank out drinks for the impatient crowd, and he realized now just how much he disliked room temperature vodka. They hadn’t stayed long, just enough for Tony to pay for the shots and worm their way through the crowd to the exit.

“Sorry Pete. Weekend after midterms was probably the wrong time to hit that one.” Tony had kissed his palm sweetly and promised the next place would be calmer.

And he realized he didn’t care if the bars got increasingly shittier, because he was spending it with Tony and that was enough. He didn’t want to think about the implications that brought on for his insistence that he just wanted to keep things casual.

They’d gone to an upscale lounge next, sitting at the bar and chatting with the bartender as they sipped on dirty martinis. Peter relished in the salty bite of the olive juice and gleefully said yes when the bartender offered him more olives for his drink. It was much quieter, a jazz band played softly in the corner, setting a relaxed tone compared to the mayhem of the last place.

The bartender had looked dubiously at Peter when he ordered, and he had happily presented his ID, exclaiming maybe a bit too loudly that it was his 21st birthday. “Congrats kid. You out with your old man for the night?” he asked, nodding at Tony, who had played along, smirking at Peter in the dim candle light while he sat there silently.

The same hot flush rose to his cheeks and he wondered, not for the first time that evening, if Tony got his rocks off on everyone assuming Peter was his son. He certainly seemed happy to act the part when the opportunity arose. And the way he’d kissed Peter in the alleyway outside of the first bar had left his breathless and panting. Tony was an excellent kisser, but there had been an extra edge to that kiss, something sultry and sinful tinging the way he held on as he nipped and licked at Peter’s lips. He decided he didn’t mind the lies to strangers if it meant Tony would kiss him like that.

They finished their drinks and thanked the bartender, and Peter gripped a little tighter onto Tony’s hand as walked down the cobblestone street. He desperately hoped Tony didn’t notice.

And now he was in the basement of a laid back dive bar, the taste of butterscotch lingering on his tongue sweet and creamy. This one had been his favorite drink so far. He liked sweet things best. Tony liked to tease him that it was because he was so sweet. It was cheesy but never failed to make him giggle.

He’d laughed at the name of the drink, too, when Tony had ordered them. Buttery Nipple. He’d shot Peter a lascivious smile with a wink when the barkeep had her back turned.

She’d dutifully carded Peter and congratulated him on his big night, and said to let her know if he and his dad needed anything else. Tony, true to form, had thanked her for it and said he appreciated it, that he wanted his son’s 21st birthday to be special.

They found a spot in the back, away from the shitty band and the giggling drunk girls piling into an old photo booth to take snapshots. The bar was dark and moody, the cubby of their booth giving enough privacy that he could be a little bolder now.

He let his hand roam over Tony’s thigh, hungry and eager. He took a certain pleasure in seeing Tony let out a quiet gasp as his hand brushed over the older man’s cock, stiff and pressing tight against his jeans. Good. He wasn’t the only one who could do some teasing tonight.

Tony had let out a cute whine. It wasn’t often that Peter took charge like this, usually preferring to let Tony initiate. But he was finally feeling the effects of the alcohol, and it made him bolder, less afraid to get caught making out in the back of a dingy bar.

He leaned in, nipping at Tony’s neck and giggling at the groan the older man made. “C’mon Daddy. I wanna have fun,” he whispered in his ear. If Tony got off of that idea when he could play along. It’s not like the thought didn’t get him hard too, now that he’d had enough drinks to loosen up a bit. The sharp intake of breath followed by Tony grabbing his chin and kissing him deeply was all the answer he needed to know he’d made the right choice by calling him that.

They lost track of time, making out and groping like horny teenagers in the back booth of the bar, hands roaming under shirts and hips grinding through tight jeans. He’d definitely have a hickey tomorrow but he didn’t care. It was cold enough outside now that he could hide it under a scarf in class on Monday.

And every time Peter whispered “Daddy” in his ear, Tony would let out a low rumbling growl that made his cock twitch, leaking and wet and aching.

This was a filthy new development he could get used to.

It wasn’t until there was a loud clearing of someone’s throat that he truly came up for air, suddenly remembering they were in a public place with plenty of people around. He glanced sheepishly up at the same barkeep who’d served them earlier. She’d probably been trying to get their attention for a while now. He reluctantly peeled himself off Tony’s now sweaty chest. She looked judgemental and unamused.

“We have to close up shop early, there’s a blizzard coming in tonight and my boss doesn’t want to risk anyone driving home in the storm after drinking, so I need to cash you out now.” Her tone was flat and unimpressed.

Tony reluctantly signed the receipt she handed him, along with his card, leaving a very generous tip. Probably as an apology for the foreplay they’d been doing, Peter thought.

She started to walk away as they got up and slipped on their coats, but turned back with a glint of humor in her eye now.

“You said he was your son,” she said, the sentence rising at the end like a question.

And Tony’s devilish smirk reappeared, as he gave her a playful wink. “What can I say? We’re close.”

[let-it-raines]

Second In Command prompt: I loved seeing Killian so caring and concerned when Emma was hurt (cutting herself at the pub and collapsing on stage). Worried Killian is too adorable. I'd love to see something where Killian is away on a work trip and he gets a call one of the kids had an accident (of course they are ultimately fine in the end with no lasting damage, just lots of extra love and care from mom and dad).

Killian’s guided around the facility, several different people telling him the ins and outs of what they do every day and what is done when they’re deployed overseas. No matter how many times he’s heard it before, it’s all a bit overwhelming to him to have to hear about the military and their daily tasks, especially when he knows that he should have been a member of the Royal Navy after he graduated from University, but it’s honestly mostly the emotions behind it all. He’s heard several stories about the loss of loved ones or serious, life-changing injuries today, and it makes his stomach twist in uncomfortable knots. These people are protecting him, protecting his family and the families of everyone in the nation, and all he does is take guided tours and cut ribbons to open new physical therapy offices.

Really, he knows that he does more, knows that he does actually help and do good, but after listening to someone tell him how much of an ache it is to miss the birth of his daughter and most of her formative years, he can’t help the nagging feeling that’s settling within him. He can’t imagine missing the birth of any of his three children or missing so much of their lives when he already feels like he’s missing so much of them when he is home as often as he can be and more than most working parents.

Linnie turned one two days ago, and he’s still not over it. That’s his smallest little love, and she’s technically a toddler. He’s not sure if he believes in the fact that once a baby turns one, they’re no longer a baby, but then again, his rambunctious six-and-a-half year old lad is still his baby.

He’s getting sappier in his old age.

Who is he kidding? He’s always been sappy when it comes to his children.

When he finishes touring the facility, cataloguing stories he’s told and improvements that need to be made, he loads up in the backseat of the car and lets Thomas start the hour-long drive home while he makes notes over ways that he’d like to personally help more. He knows that nearly everything on this list will get rejected, that he’ll be stretching himself too thin, but it’s at least worth the effort to maybe get one or two things approved.

If Emma doesn’t absolutely veto everything since he’s already been taking on more than strictly necessary.

Emma is most definitely going to veto him.

“Have a good weekend with your family, mate,” he tells Thomas when he’s dropped off at home, the car parked on the cobblestone pathway that leads to their front door.

“You too, sir. Please tell Sutton thank you again for the lovely pictures she drew me.”

“Aye, I will,” he laughs, getting out of the car and shutting the door behind him.

He can’t hear the sounds of anyone playing outside, so he figures that Emma has them all inside for dinner. Quickly, he makes his way to the front door, typing in the code for their security system before stepping into the entryway so that his shoes hit against the dark hardwood the fills most of their bottom floor. He can hear Sutton talking, her little voice carrying from what he thinks is the kitchen, and he smiles a bit to himself knowing that she’s going to come running up to him the moment she realize he’s home.

It’s the little things that make his day. To be loved so deeply by someone that their entire day is made simply by him coming home is…everything.

But before he can even make his way to the kitchen, he’s intercepted in the hallway by his wife who looks as beautiful as always but a little worse for wear with her un-brushed hair and smudged makeup with her lounge clothes from this morning still on.

“Hi, beautiful,” he greets, stretching his lips into a smile while he dips his head down to capture his lips with hers, his hands finding their place on her hips while he tastes the bit of chocolate on her. “How are you?”

“I’m fine. I just – ” She looks up at him with her bottom lip between her teeth, a little worry in her eyes, and he gets that familiar twisting in his stomach that he felt earlier. But worse. Far, far worse. “Don’t freak out.”

Shit. That’s never good. No one has ever told him not to freak out and then he has proceeded to not freak out.

He always freaks out.

“Emma, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong,” she promises, sliding her hands up to rest on his chest. “I mean, technically something is wrong, but it’s not a big deal. I just don’t want you to freak out.”

“What happened?” he insists, squeezing her hips a little more tightly to encourage her to speak.

“Okay so – ”

“Daddy,” Andy screeches, running toward the two of them at full speed, and over Emma’s shoulder he can see that Andy’s right arm is wrapped in a blue cast.

What in the world? That worry that had settled within him twists up again, really burning to blazing new heights, and his eyes glance toward Emma only for her to lean forward and rest her forehead against his shoulder for the briefest of moments before she pulls back.

“Daddy, will you sign my cast?” Andy asks with a bright smile on his face, his front tooth missing even if it is growing back the tiniest bit. He looks ridiculous, but honestly somehow Andy is even more persuasive with things than he was before.  

“I want to draw on it,” Sutton shouts as she follows in behind Andy. And if Linnie could walk, he’s sure she would be just behind Sutton.

“I want Daddy to sign it first, Sutton.”

“You already let Mummy draw on it.”

“That’s because she’s Mummy.”“Well, I’m Sutton,” she huffs, placing her hands on her hips with all of the might that a four-year-old shouldn’t have.

His daughter isn’t any four-year-old.

“Woah, woah,” he sighs, his eyes not sure where to focus, so he leans down and picks Sutton up, kissing her cheek before he squats down in front of his son to look at his arm and make sure it really is there underneath his cast. “Would somebody like to tell Daddy what happened to Andy’s arm before I sign any casts? Huh?”

“Well,” Andy starts, shaking his head and flicking back his black hair because it needs a trim, “I was on the playground at school, and Oliver and I were playing Pirate Captain, which is really cool because I got to be the Captain.”

“Of course. Who else would you be?”

“I don’t know. I also like being the guy who gets to steer the ship.”

“That’s fun too, lad,” he encourages, putting Sutton on the ground and watching Emma walk into the other room with Sutton following behind her, mumbling something about her wanting to be a pirate captain too. His children are insane, and he still needs to see Linnie. She’s likely in her play pen. God, he hopes she’s not simply crawling around with no one watching her. They don’t need any more broken bones. “But how did we get the broken arm?”

“Oh, I fell.”

“Off of what, lad?”

Andy shrugs his shoulders, his smile still just as bright as it was in the beginning, and he wonders just how crazy everything was without him today. Seriously. His son has somehow broken a bone while at school, and he’s only finding out about it hours later. How did no one tell him? Why did no one tell him?

“The monkey bars,” Andy sighs, exasperated as he throws his head back. “I was pretending to climb up the sails, and I fell super far down onto the ground. It hurt. Like, a lot, but then Mrs. Simon came and got me, and I got to go to the hospital like last year when Linnie came out of Mummy’s tummy and was all red and squishy and gross.”

Indy walks into the hallway then, her tail wagging and Sutton’s favorite doll in her mouth, and he wonders if their house could be any more chaotic. Then again, he doesn’t know what’s going on in the other room with Emma and the girls.

Quickly, he reaches to stratch behind Indy’s ears to try to get her to drop the doll. When she does, he picks it up, ignoring the slobber and sticking it in his coat pocket. These trousers are really too tight for him to be squatting down this long, and honestly, he’s not sure that they won’t rip when he stands up.

That would be the cherry on top of today, really.

“Are you okay, buddy?” he asks Andy, reaching forward to push his hair off his forehead while his eyes scan Andy’s face to make sure that there aren’t any other injuries. He can’t believe any of this. This was…his children aren’t supposed to get hurt. He knows it’s going to happen, that it’s life, but he wants to forever keep them safe in his arms like he did when they were infants. “Does it still hurt? Did Mummy give you any medicine?”

“Yeah.” He sticks his tongue out. “It was nasty.”

“I bet it was.”

“She also let me have an extra biscuit before dinner.”

“Ahh,” he chuckles, shaking his head a bit before he leans forward to brush his lips over Andy’s forehead. “Why don’t we go in the kitchen then? Get some of that dinner in your belly.”

“Are you going to sign my cast?”

“Of course, but you have to let your sister draw on it too.”

His nose scrunches up at that, but he does end up nodding his head up and down in affirmation.

When he and Andy make their way into the kitchen, Indy following at their ankles, Sutton is sitting in the cushioned nook surrounded by windows that give them a view out into the pool and the garden. She seems to be picking at her plate of pasta, while Emma is currently trying to keep pureed carrots off of Linnie’s high chair and in her mouth. It doesn’t seem to be working. But these are their nights, so he fixes himself and Emma a plate of something to eat, helping Andy along the way, before he joins his wife and his kids at the table, the conversation loudly flowing as Andy decides to continuously retell the story of his broken arm, each retelling getting a bit more dramatic, while Sutton has to share about her own day and how she had to miss ballet class. Linnie only babbles, but he imagines she’s wondering if she can somehow trade out families for a quieter one.

He can nearly guarantee it.

After dinner, he and Emma split up getting everyone to bed, bath time the thing that still consumes most of their night, even more so now since Andy’s cast can’t get wet, but after he gets Sutton to sleep, he moves down the hall to Andy’s room, opening up the door and peeking inside at him lining up all of his trains on the table. He’s so much like Emma sometimes, but then he does little things like that, and all Killian can see is himself. It’s the oddest thing.

He quite likes it. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be in bed, lad?”

“In a minute,” he responds, not bothering to turn around as he switches two trains on the table.

“Andy.”

“Sorry,” he apologizes, fixing one last thing before he quickly makes his way into his bed, climbing up on the mattress and tucking himself in while Killian settles down on the other side of the bed, propping his socked feet up over the navy comforter.

“Do you want me to read you a story?”

“Can you make one up?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I think I may be out of all of my made up stories.”

“Dad,” he whines, scooting down further into the bed until Killian can only see the bridge of his nose that’s covered with freckles and the blue of his eyes partially hidden under dark lashes. “You can’t be out.”

“But what if I am? What if I have no stories left in me?”

“Then you need to go get Mummy.”

Killian chuckles to himself and folds his hands together before placing them on his stomach, looking up at the ceiling fan for a moment while he clicks his tongue. He needs to dust in Andy’s room. He needs to dust in all of the rooms now that he thinks about it. “Hmm, so fifteen years ago on a dark and stormy night a young prince was running away from his family. You see, they’d gotten into a rather big fight.”

Andy shifts in bed again, turning onto his side so that he faces Killian with half of his face squished into a pillow. “About what?”

“They wouldn’t let him have chocolate for dinner.”“I’d fight about that too.”

“I know you would,” he chuckles, unclasping his hands to reach over and brush Andy’s hair back since he knows that it’s soothing. His cast is resting on top of his comforter, Killian’s scribbled “Daddy” with a drawing off Indy prominent next to Emma’s neat script and Sutton’s rather messy one, though not as messy as the scribble that Linnie added. He can’t believe Andy hurt himself so badly. “So the prince was caught in the rain, and he needed a place to go so he wouldn’t get sick, and there, in the dark night he found this shining yellow light.”

“What was it?”

“Well, another magic castle of course.”

“Was it big like the prince’s castle?”

He’s never going to get through a story with his son asking every question in the book, but this is always what happens when Andy asks him to make up a story instead of reading on in a book full of pictures. And maybe he’s copping out by telling a fantasized story of how he and Emma met, but he’s tired. He’s tired and there’s only so much he can do.

He likes the days where he gets to read actual books.

“It was smaller, but oftentimes smaller things mean so much more. Houses don’t have to be big to be special, lad. And that’s what happened here because inside this small castle with the glowing yellow light was a fair maiden.”

“What’s a maiden?”

“A girl.”

“A pretty one?”

“Aye, but she was also very smart and funny, which are two very important things, my boy, and she was very kind to the soaked prince because she gave him dry clothes and food and a place to spend his time until the rain disappeared.”

“Do the girl and the prince fall in love?” Andy gasps, very obviously knowing enough about fairy tales to get where Killian is going with this even if their life is not a fairy tale. He likes it that way, but they do have a damn good story.

“You bet they do.”

It takes about five minutes before Andy is drifting off to sleep, his lashes landing against his cheeks, and Killian leans over to kiss his forehead. “I love you,” he whispers, lingering a bit before propping a pillow under Andy’s cast, hoping that he doesn’t roll too much tonight. But Andy is a heavy sleeper, always has been since he got past his infant days, so Killian is able to quietly leave the room, turning off the lights and shutting the door behind him as he walks toward his own bedroom.

Emma isn’t in bed yet, so he’s not surprised to find her in the bathroom standing over her vanity rubbing some sort of cream into her face. He knows that she knows he’s in the room, but he quietly steps up behind her anyways, wrapping his arms around her stomach and resting his hands there while he buries his nose in her neck, peppering a few kisses there and breathing her in like he’s longed to do all day. He stays still while she keeps moisturizing her face, only moving to rest his chin on her shoulder when she pats his hands against her stomach.

“So, anything exciting happen to you today?” he jokes, the exhaustion hitting him in a way that he knows must have hit Emma hours ago.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you when it happened, Killian. I – ” She looks at him in the mirror and leans her head back against his cheek while her eyes close for the briefest of moments. “I got the call while I was feeding Linnie. Like, I legit had my boob out feeding one kid while Sutton was running around with her ballet outfit on backwards, and I get this call from the school saying there’s an accident. I think my heart stopped beating. I know that I stopped breathing.”“I’m sorry, love,” he murmurs, kissing her shoulder. “I can’t imagine how terrifying that must have been.”

“It was awful. I mean, she said accident, and I lost my mind. I could barely understand anything after that, barely heard that he had hurt his arm and that the school nurse figured it was broken, but I was grabbing the kids and rushing out the door. He was so brave, babe. I mean, his face was all red and puffy, but once he calmed down, he was just awesome. He thought it was the coolest thing, and I was a complete and total mess thinking about him being hurt.”

“Why didn’t you call me? I would have come home immediately. Surely you know that.”

“I didn’t want to worry you until I had to. I knew today was important to you, and honestly, until about the time when you texted me that you were coming home, I figured I didn’t have to worry you until you actually got home. There was no point in making you suffer in that car.”

He hums, not really sure what to say but knowing what he wants to say. “Darling, if one of our kids was hurt, and I didn’t call you right away, you realize you would murder me, right?”“I definitely would.”

“So maybe next time one of our children gets hurt, because it is going to happen again, you don’t worry about carrying that burden all on your own, yeah? We got married for many a reason, but one of my favorites ones is sharing the burdens.”

“In that case there’s a really nasty spaghetti sauce stain on the carpet in the living room, and I need you to get it out.”

Killian chuckles against her before moving his hands off of her stomach and encouraging Emma to turn around until her hands are wrapped around his neck and his hands are inching ever so close to her ass, fingers nearly there. “I am always here to get your spaghetti sauce stains out.”

“How do you know I made the stain?”

“Because you never would have let the kids in the living room with marinara sauce.”

[caffeineivore]

Mako-Neph dedicated to @antivanruffles

Because of reasons. *cough H6H6H6H6H6 cough*

Set in a ficverse not yet published. M/N, mentions A/Z, and Minako. N is a part-time model who’d featured on some cover of some romance novel called ‘His Thundering Highland Heart’ by Katie Satine. Just... sayin’. >.>

**

The atmosphere of the pub is dim and low-key, with wood panelling and a pleasant sort of unpretentiousness, and though Noah doesn’t consider himself a soccer fan, he makes himself comfortable amidst the group currently watching the game on the television screen. Zack, who could only have been more besotted had he actually been the hero of a fluffy teenage rom-com from the ‘90s or early ‘00s, possibly played by a young Freddie Prinze Jr., had left with Amy a few hours ago. Dinner with her mother. And if that wasn’t super extra serious for a guy who’d met a girl two years ago and spent all of three days with her…

But then again, Zack, despite being generally easygoing in that amiable midwestern way, could not be swayed from his path once he’d made up his mind, and his mind was apparently made up. Certainly it was serious enough for him to buy a plane ticket, book a hotel, and travel across an ocean to find this girl again. Noah had come along to keep him out of trouble, of course, and also to be able to say that he’d been to Europe.

The weather, of course, leaves something to be desired. And no one knew a damn thing about football-- oh, excuse him, AMERICAN football. Not the David Beckham stuff. But the beer, he had to admit, was superior. Europeans knew their way around a damn brew.

“Oy! What are you doing here?”

Noah swivels his head over in the direction of the shout, and grins. Even a borderline-rude question like that sounds sexy as hell in that Irish accent of hers. Amy’s roommate is tall and stacked in the best of ways, a stunner from the top of her curly head to the bottom of her boot-clad feet. “Oh, hey. Just chilling. Grabbing a beer and a bite to eat, since this is walking distance from the hotel. Zack’s hanging out with Amy, but I’m sure you already knew that.”

“I did.” Mary Kathleen takes a seat across from him, and he sort of appreciates the directness of it rather than a dance-around asking for permission to sit as though she had any less right to be there than he did. “I had to coax the story out of her last night, but I’d known something was different. She’s always been a quiet girl, but she’d come back from summer hols two years ago and I’d just known something had happened. Nothing bad, but just significant, all the same. She’s never been the sort to pine after a lad, you know. Too sensible, by far. But she’s happy to see him, still. Quite happy indeed.”

“Oh, they’re adorable together, and he’s a lovesick puppy, and someday, I have a feeling you and I will be Maid of Honour and Best Man, respectively, at their wedding,” Noah quips, only half-joking. “I’d heard the story, of course, from Morgan. She was sort of there in Italy when it happened, and was probably the first witness to their storybook romance. She’ll be happy that it worked out, I’m sure, and that your friend didn’t have to call security to throw my friend out.”

“‘Tis funny to hear you talking about one of the most famous supermodels in the world like she’s just another bird, though I suppose to you lot she would be.”

“Morgan’s pretty down-to-Earth for being who and what she is. But Zack and I are also not as deep into this whole business as she is.” Noah finishes his beer, then playfully flexes his biceps. “I’m surprised you recognized me, actually. The, uh, picture on that cover has my face in profile.” The picture in question also had most of his chest bare aside from a tartan covering only a small area for modesty. Noah doesn’t remember too much else about the book in question aside from it being set in the Scottish highlands in the Middle Ages and was quite popular with its target audience. Lots of bodice-ripping, undoubtedly, by Laird Carmichael of the shirtless tartan fame.

“It’s the hair, and the pecs.” Unapologetically, Mary Kathleen taps a knuckle on his chest and grins, even as the barman brings her her own beer. “‘Twas not a bad look for you a’tall.”

“Thanks. You saying so makes the several hours spent with baby oil covering all exposed skin on my body worth it.”

She laughs-- a full-on, belly laugh, not a girly giggle, and orders some food. He joins her and does the same.

**

Three or four beers later, they’re both tipsy, and jolly, and embroiled in a friendly debate over local foods from both their hometowns. Noah tries to explain exactly what a chimichanga is, and he’s not quite sure that he’s successful, but he does agree that as mildly horrifying as a Scotch egg looks at first sight, it’s pretty damn good. And much to his relief, Mary Kathleen does not seem like the depressing sort of girl who’d order a garden salad, dressing on the side, for dinner and then look mournful and hungry for the rest of the evening.

They talk, mostly about school, though also about their friends. Mary Kathleen majored in Electrical Engineering, and there’s enough commonality with his own major, Physics, that there’s room for shared stories about uppity TA’s and labs and the like. They’re both far from home-- she’s originally from a tiny village called Carran, in County Clare, before she’d moved to London at the age of fifteen. He’d lived in Sedona, Arizona until moving to New York City for school and work, and both of them agreed that the crowded, busy, big-city life was not for them.

They eventually leave the pub together, and she walks with him back to his hotel. He pulls out his phone at the door, and gives her his best smile. “So that was fun.”

“It was. I wonder if our friends are back yet? Amy’s not really the sort to do anything naughty, but he is awfully pretty. And there’s that whole pent-up two-years’-worth-of-longing.”

“Zack’s not the type to do anything naughty either, nor the type to pressure a girl into it if you were worried about that. He’s surrounded by beautiful women all the damn time in modeling, and sees enough sleazy shit to never want to go that route, himself. He’ll never do anything to hurt your friend if he can help it, and that’s even if he weren’t besotted, which he totally is.”

“That’s good to know.” Mary Kathleen relaxes fractionally, and Noah knows, without her saying so, that the reassurance assuages a protective streak within her. She doesn’t comment on it, though, and instead holds out a hand for him to shake. “You’re not bad company, for a Yank obsessed with Mexican food.”

“Nor are you, for an Irish girl obsessed with half-naked Scotsmen,” he returns, taking her hand in his and holding on. “So since we’re now buddies and I’m not an idiot like Zack, do you have a phone number or email or Facebook or something? You know, so we can keep in touch and gossip about our friends and all that.”

That gets another one of those wide, cheeky grins. “If I give that to you, am I going to get any more half-naked kilt pics?”

Noah laughs so hard that his stomach aches with it. “I don’t know, do you want any?”

[berlinaura]

Man it has been an eventful week. After settling down to my room and unpacking my things I listed down everything I need and went for a long shopping day on Wednesday. I bought for example a plastic container for leftover food (our fridge is ridiculously small!), hangers, extra set of bed sheet and food.  At first I thought I would have to dry my laundry in hangers but then I realized that we have plenty of equipment from laundry racks to cleaning supplies that I had nothing to worry about. I already washed my first batch of clothing successfully even though I had no idea what each of the 9 programs of our washing machine do.

Thursday 3rd of October was the national holiday of Germany, der Tag der Deutschen Einheit. A celebration of the German reunification. My buddy invited me to go to the celebration in Brandenburger Tor so we went. We enjoyed the market and live music and went for a long walk in the area of Reichstag building and Hauptbahnhof. We thought (falsely) that the only place where we could get snacks for a movie that would be open would be the main train station. Then we walked to Sony Center in Potsdamer Platz and watched two movies in a row. At first I thought it would be absolute madness but then I realized how genius it is! Gemini man would get a 3/5 from me and IT part II 4/5.

On Friday my roommate asked me if I wanted to come to a museum with her and her new friend. Of course I’d go! We visited Neues Museum at the museum island. We observed some bath tub looking sarcophagi and saw Nefertiti herself.

I wasn’t supposed to do anything outrageous on Friday because I had been feeling a bit ill and wanted to have a rest before the upcoming orientation week. After the museum visit my roommate threw a pre-drink gathering at our apartment and I had a moment of weakness so I joined and went clubbing with them. I am glad though because the evening was fun!

In my opinion the club was no different from the clubs I’ve been to in Finland. As I heard someone say earlier, the erasmus parties aren’t probably the best Berlin club parties there are. For my first party in Berlin it was good enough though. And I am a bigger fan of the pre-parties and casual pub evenings anyways.

On Saturday I woke up feeling okay and wondered about it for a moment. Then I stood up and realized I was still drunk. I used this energy to clean up the kitchen because flies around stacked beer pong cups aren’t a pretty sight after a night out. On the late afternoon I went thrift shopping to Humanas and found a cute skirt I can wear the next time when going out. I felt like I didn’t really pack any clubbing clothes so I had a mini crisis on Friday and ended up going in just jeans and a T-shirt.

Sunday was my chill day. (As if everything before it was such a hard work!) I binged Shameless UK on Netflix for a couple of hours until me and my roommate went to get a drink at Boxhagenerplatz. The place was full of cozy bars and I thought I’d definitely be going there again! I had probably the best gin & tonic I’ve ever had in my life. 

Monday was my last day before orientation week. I was hanging out in Alexanderplatz, getting some final school supplies and I thought “maybe some erasmus students would like to meet today” so I sent an invitation to our facebook group. Luckily a shit ton of people were interested! People wanted to meet quite late but luckily I got a Swedish and a French girl to meet up with me beforehand. I was asked if I know any cool bars in Berlin and all I could come up with was the place I was the day before so we met at Boxhagenerplatz “:D” but it was good and the bars were great! 

Later we met with the whole group in a bar called The Castle and it, once again, is a bar worth going back to. The bartender was super nice as well as the atmosphere. We talked and enjoyed drinks for several hours until I had to do the adult thing and go home to get some rest for the first day of orientation week. 

 Navigating through the campus was less stressful when you already knew some people. The room of the information session was so retro. Some parts of the campus seem so modern and beautiful. There’s this one place that looks like a museum because it is so aesthetically pleasing. Then there are these run-down hallways and classrooms that look like they’re from the 70′s. Nevertheless the info session was somewhat useful as was the campus tour afterwards. 

TUB makes some administrative matters a bit too complicated and they know it! For example, when I want to search through the courses, I go to the course catalog (Vorlesungsverzeichnis, available only in German) to see the name of the course and the timetable. When I want to know what the course is about, what are the prerequisites and how many credits it is worth, I go to MOSES. Then there’s a different place for the material, possible course sign up, exam sign up etc. This all makes me appreciate the compact student portal we have in Finland. 

Another thing that makes me go WTF is that most of the courses don’t require a sign up! We just go to the first meeting, greet the teacher and announce that we are there to learn. We don’t even sign up for exams because we “don’t exist in the system”. 

I also knew that Germans like to use cash but I wasn’t prepared for this!! We need to pay at school cafeterias with a Mensa card but the machines that allow us to load money to the card only accept cash money (and not even coins). Many bars only accept cash and the ones that proudly advertise they accept card payments have a 5-10€ minimum limit for the purchase. This is something that I’ll probably get used to and I hope that a proper wallet makes my life easier. I should have thought about that before coming here.

Because of the program for the orientation week was sold out in such a short time, I could only get tickets for two events: visit at Urban nation museum and a walking tour in Kreuzberg. Many didn’t even get that so I am lucky. To compensate the lack of official events, we decided to go bowling with a group of people I got to know on Monday. Turns out Alexanderplatz is a pretty popular place to go bowling even on Tuesday evening so we didn’t got in the first place. Luckily the second one was just a 10 minute walk away and we had a nice game there. Afterwards we went for a drinks in Hackescher Markt and I ordered my first lager! 

The evening was successfull but unfortunately I also got to see two rats! I was told to get brave and set a goal to get rid of my rat fear by the end of my erasmus year but I’m not sure if I can do it. After seeing the rats I do feel a bit less nauseated by mice though so maybe it will be possible to get over my rat fear as well.

Today we went to listen to another info session at campus. This one was about courses, the sign ups and all that. Everybody is just as confused by the lack of an official sign up - why can’t TUB just come to this century and open an online sign up for courses!! After the info session I decided to go for a walk so I decided to go to Märkisches Viertel in Norhern Berlin. I wanted to see the place after hearing Sido’s “Mein Block” and also just get a walk because the sun was shining and for once I had no rush to anywhere. Judging by my short visit, Märkisches Viertel is like the Hervanta of Berlin. 

Of course as soon as I was on the border of Berlin so pretty much as far as I can get from the city centre, some people at the erasmus group wanted to meet in the centre with a short warning. I decided to skip it all and headed home for a nap after which I finally sorted out my courses. My timetable is currently very full but I don’t want to have the risk of failing a course and then not getting enough credits. I want to a have the possibility to drop a course if it feels too difficult. 

I am looking forward the rest of the week! Tomorrow I’ll go to the campus again because there’s some sort of fun (?) meeting planned with the buddies and exchange students of TUB. In the evening I’ll go to the movies again to see Joker! On Friday there’s the museum visit and an international erasmus party at the same club as last week. This time there will be people from TUB so I am excited to go again. On Saturday late afternoon (important and calculated factor!) there’s the walking tour in Kreuzberg. I haven’t been to that area so much so it’s nice to check it out. And then for Sunday I plan to go to see the Reichstags dome from the inside and maybe do something with the roommates. 

# livin the dream

[oldschoolgaming]

Gary Con XI

Last year’s trip to Gary Con was supposed to be a one off, a ‘Trip of Lifetime’ but as you might have read in last year’s blog post it was an experience I was keen to repeat.  I worked hard, I saved my pennies and with the support of my ever amazing (& non gaming) wife I planned a return trip to Lake Geneva.

Sadly my good friend and travel buddy Isa couldn’t join me on this year’s trip so I traveled to Chicago on my own, this time on a direct flight from London.  

I’d planned to arrive a day early to allow my body clock time to adjust.  Asking around about sharing transport from O’Hare to Lake Geneva I got a message from a friend I’d met at last year’s convention.   Jason Hobbs was kind enough to bring his trip forward a day, picking me up from the airport and driving up to our B&B in Lake Geneva.   We made plans to head over to Madison and meet Alex Kammer, another acquaintance from last year’s event.  Alex runs Gamehole Con, another Wisconsin gaming convention held in the autumn.  He is also a big collector of old school D&D books and memorabilia  We were able to check out his amazing collection, housed in a custom gaming space he calls ‘The Gamehole’

The Gamehole

This is a 1st printing of the 1st Edition AD&D Monster Manual, signed by Gary Gygax.

As well as books Alex also has some unique artifacts.  This is the original map of the Forgotten Realms, used to define what is now the default setting for Dungeons and Dragons today.

The exceptionally rare English module ST1 ‘Up The Garden Path’

Me, with a rare first printing of Chainmail, the ruleset written by Gary Gygax and Jeff Perren.  Chainmail preceded Dungeons and Dragons and was intended to be used in the original edition of D&D to resolve combat.  The system we use today for D&D combat has evolved from what was originally intended to be the ‘alternate’ rules for folk who didn’t own a copy of Chainmail!

We got back to our B&B around 10pm, but my body clock wasn’t fooled, it knew it should be 4am and I’m sure I entertained Hobbs with some pretty hard core snoring on the drive back!

Now I’m a believer that if you do something twice it becomes a tradition so on Wednesday we met up with Bruce Heard for our now traditional pre Gary Con lunch, at the ‘Next Door Pub’  Bruce is always good company and it was great to catch up with him.  I was pleased to hear his latest ‘Calidar’ product is taking shape, I’m excited to receive my copy from the Kickstarter later this year.

After lunch we headed off to the Geneva Grand Resort, home of the convention to pick up our badges and get settled in.  

We arrived a little early so I had a short wait before my room was ready.  It was while I waited in the bar watching people arrive that I started to realise that this trip really was going to be at least as magical as the previous year.  You see, the magic of Gary Con, for me at least, is the people.  Having just picked up my badge and not even rolled a single dice I was happy so see more friends arrive.  Much hugging and laughing ensued, setting the standard for the days to come.

On Wednesday evening I ticked off ‘Dawn Patrol’ from my ‘want to play’ bucket list.  Michael Bolam facilitated an awesome intro game for a bunch of newbies and despite rolling badly (winning initiative is a bad start in this game!) I survived my first game and even got my first ‘kill’

After the game I had time for a couple of beers in the bar, catching up with friends old and new before getting an early night (well, midnight?) ready to start the gaming the next day.

On Thursday morning I ran my first game of Dungeon Crawl Classics (The 13th Skull) for a great table of players, most of whom had some experience of the system.  I felt like it took me a couple of hours to hit my GMing stride but the pace accelerated pretty quickly.  The party making good progress until my dice suddenly ran hot and we finished with a TPK!

My afternoon game was the session I was most anxious about.  I was running my own adventure for ‘The Umerican Survival Guide’  and I whilst the table was full of familiar faces I was nervous running for so many creative folk!  I think it went down ok, we certainly laughed a lot and I’ve got some ideas to tweak the adventure before I run it next at the UK Games Expo.

Thursday evening was another great social night, both in the hotel bar and at the party I was invited to by my roommate. 

It was great to have a few minutes with Luke Gygax.  Luke is the driving force behind the convention and Gary Con is a fantastic tribute to his dad.  I’m sure Gary would be happy to see thousands of people gathering to play games in his memory.

“I would like the world to remember me as the guy who really enjoyed playing games and sharing his knowledge and his fun pastimes with everybody else.”

Gary Gygax

I also got to chat and hang out with bunch of other well know D&D faces.

Satine Phoenix 

Stefan Pokorny, aka ‘The Dwarvenaught’

with Jon Peterson (”Art & Arcana” & “Playing At The World”) and Mike Carr (”Dawn Patrol” and “In Search Of The Unknown” for D&D, amongst others!)

Whilst it’s great to see the new wave of D&D ‘Rock Stars’ promoting the hobby I think chatting with Mike Carr and him shaking my hand to congratulate me on my first ‘Dawn Patrol’ kill the previous night was a highlight of the convention!

Back in the bar I met up with more of the tribe, including Tom Tullis of Fat Dragon Games who produces the amazing 3D printable minis and scenery I use in a lot of my games at home.

Friday was my Birthday.  I started an epic day of gaming running Operation Whitebox, a World War 2 RPG by Pete Spahn.  It was really good to finally meet Pete and once again he had generously donated copies of the rulebook to all my players. He stopped by during the game to sign books and hang out.  I had a great table of friends new and old who worked well together to complete their dangerous mission behind enemy lines with only two casualties!

I ran straight from my own game to sit at Stephen Newton’s table for his DCC adventure.  Stephen’s a great judge and I was pleased to be back at his table this year. This was a completely new adventure to me and I was playing with a great bunch of players with a wide age range, kids through to adult.  I’ve had some really great experiences playing at mixed tables with kids recently and this game was no exception! 

After this game Stephen and I headed off to the next game, we were both playing in ‘Blacklisted in Lankhmar’ run by Jen Brinkman.

This was my first time playing with Jen and I was excited to grab a spot in this game at almost the last minute.  Normally coming to the end of 12 hours of gaming my mind and attention would be wandering but Jen is a captivating judge, and DCC Lankhmar is a lot of fun - a great game perfectly reworked to fit this classic setting from the works of Fritz Leiber 

I was planning a couple of quiet birthday beers before another early(ish) night - but it was not to be!  I certainly wasn’t expecting to have the a couple of hundred people in the bar singing happy birthday before I was presented with this amazing cake by friends Dave and Kathy.  I may have been a little drunk and emotional that night!

Saturday Morning’s game was my Dark Trails funnel adventure.

I squeezed a couple of extra players around the table for this and although I’ve added to it since it’s first outing at the UK Games Expo it’s clear I still have some work to do, but I think everyone had fun.

One of the extra players was a fellow twitch mini painter, Ali, it so good to meet her and take delivery of the minis she had painted for me!

Saturday afternoon I found Carl Heyl’s drop in/drop out Basic D&D game.  Carl is the current host of long time Classic D&D podcast Save Or Die and I loved sitting in on his game for a little while.

I had to keep my time in Carl’s game short because I’d signed up to play at 5pm in a ‘Super Secret Playtest’ with Michael Curtis.  

By the time I sat down the secret was ‘out’ and I was excited to find I’d be taking part in the first public play test of Goodman Games 5th Edition conversion of the classic module ‘Expedition to the Barrier Peaks’   This game was a lot of fun on so many levels.  I was out of my comfort zone playing a Bard and in 5th Edition D&D too!  However we had an absolute blast playing through some fun encounters and it ticked several things off my bucket list.  

Playing with Michael Curtis had been a long standing ambition - he didn’t disappoint, even when he teased me with “Do you want to burn any luck? Oh, sorry, wrong system!”  It was also cool to play a classic Gygax module at Gary Con!

Saturday night was another party night.  After my game I met some more friends in the bar.  Alex, Zach and Greg seemed to have been gaming non stop all weekend but we made time to hang out and enjoy a couple of ‘Old Fashioned’s before the unofficial ‘Cultural Exchange’ social night.  

With Jen and my roommate Jobe Bitmann

with Jim and Hayley Skatch

I did it!  Last year I failed to get all the Spellburn podcast folk together in a picture but here’s proof it can happen without incurring a Phlogiston disturbance!

The cultural exchange ran on and I enjoyed sampling and sharing local beer and food with friends, although the handful of Wisconsin cheese with Ghost peppers that I inadvertently almost inhaled nearly choked me!

As the unofficial event wound down in the early hours I noticed the bar filling up and managed to grab a couple more photos with the celebs.

Joe Manganiello - my wife is a big fan, clearly she’s just into guys who like D&D, right?  

Matt Mercer came across as a really nice guy, clearly really passionate about the hobby.

Sunday arrived with even less sleep than previous days but I was able to grab a quick breakfast bite and a chat with my buddy Victor as we walked down to our morning game.

I ran my Red Box D&D adventure ‘Return To Lion Castle’ which is a tribute to the first D&D adventure I ever played.  I only had three players - I’m assuming the other three who signed up were more hungover than me, which is quite an achievment!  We still had a lot of fun and I hope to run this one again soon.

In the afternoon I sat down with Jen, Bob, Nick and Marlene for lunch.  This is the second year Jen and I have had lunch on the Sunday so I’m calling this a new tradition too!

Speaking of traditions another one that I’m pleased to be part of was my last game of the convention.  Bob Brinkman’s ‘Dead Dogs’ game ran past midnight.  Bob once again did a fantastic job guiding a very full table of twenty (!) players through an amazing improv pirate themed DCC adventure!  I laughed so much I almost cried.  When I eventually had to hug everyone goodbye and walk back to my room I might actually have done so...

I checked out of the hotel on Monday and had good company for the day having been offered a ride back to Chicago with Doug, Stefan and co, the DCC art contingent.   We had a great pub lunch and checked out the Chicago Art Institute before I took the obligatory selfies at ‘The Bean’ 

I caught my late flight home and Gary Con was over for another year  

The memories live on and with a little bit of luck (and some hard work!) I hope to be back next year.

[julia-highstorms]

The Third Park (Damien x OC (Ellie)) - Part 14

Summary: The dinner with Lucy and Robert ended up frustratingly, but Damien and Ellie further the investigation… and their relationship.

Author’s note: I know it’s been almost a month since I posted last part and I want to apologise for it 😔 (at least I posted a special part of Ellie and D, “The Girl with the Leopard Print Coat”) and I’ve been having a terrible writer’s block so I decided that it’s better to announce that I am taking a semi-hiatus on writing. I will still be here with my usual shitposts, but not posting any new fanfic or any new part of my current series (hopefully I will go back to writing sooner than later! 🙌). Thank you so much for your patience and please don’t give up on TTP because o absolutely love Damie x Ellie and I’m defini going to end this series lol 😭

Disclaimer: (most) characters belong to Pixelberry Studios. Damien is 100% human in here and my Male!MC is named Allen. Link to previous parts.

Pairing: Damien x OC (Ellie)

Rating: Teen (language)

Tagging: @christopher-powell @boneandfur @kennaxval @writtenbycandy @thequeenchoices @client327 @damienazariostan @never-ending-choices @walkerismychoice @laniquelovely @confessionsofabrokegirl @dangerous-capri15 @parkerattano @clarissafics @pilitella @hellomynameisdeviblaire @odetomars @cocomaxley @her-imperial-hangman-s @endlesswoods @miss-cordonia-deactivated201808 If you would like to be tagged, please, tell me!

Word count: 2582

When Eleanor Zhou woke up that Saturday, she was surprised to find herself alone in the bed. She looked at the clock. It was a little later than 9 o’clock.

“Damien?” - she asked as she walked out of the bedroom, letting her eyes adjust to the morning light. His things were there in the living room, but there was no sign of him. Or Freddie.

Then, she heard a male voice coming from her tiny kitchen.

“You can try using this trick with me all you want, but I won’t fall for it, buddy.” - Ellie just couldn’t believe what her eyes were seeing. Damien Nazario was by her stove, cooking something and actually talking to her dog, that was obediently sitting next to him. Making no sound, she rested on the kitchen door frame with her arms crossed, watching the man’s broad shouldered figure. A smile tugged on the corner of her lips and she felt a warmth spreading on her chest. - “These puppy dog eyes won’t make me give you my food.”

Realising that he wasn’t going to get any bacon from that mean human, Freddie whimpered frustratingly and turned away, noticing that his human was there. He trotted towards her, his tail wagging. Damien noticed the dog sudden content and looked over his shoulder, seeing Ellie there too. She chuckled softly as she kneeled to stroke Freddie’s ears.

“Good morning.”

“Morning. How are you feeling?”

“Still a little pissed with yesterday’s dinner. But well rested.” - she answered, walking towards him and wrapping her arms around his waist. - “So are you making us breakfast?”

“Yeah. I hope you like pancakes and bacon, because these are pretty much the only things I know how to cook well.” - she giggled.

“I love pancakes.” - and put a light kiss on the nape of his neck. If Damien wasn’t already all aroused by simply feeling Ellie’s body pressed against his, behind the thin fabric of her t-shirt, he definitely was now. - “I can’t believe you actually woke up early and is cooking. And have you already take Freddie for his morning walk?”

“Well, yeah.” - the private investigator shrugged. - “I was awakened by his whining. He was scratching the door so I figured he needed to go out. And I fed him too.”

“Wow. Maybe I should feel gloomy more often, then.” - she tightened the hug. - “Thank you for taking care of me, D.”

“It’s nothing.” - he turned to face her, cupping her face with his hands and leaning down, his lips meeting hers. Ellie deepened the kiss. - “Ellie…” - she giggled mischievously to Damien’s groan of alert. Her hand explored his stiff length, over his clothes. - “I’m going to burn the pancakes.”

“Alright, alright, you convinced me!” - she pulled out, raising her hands in a apologising gesture, still laughing. - “Guess I’ll have to thank you for this later…”

“You don’t need to… but I’d like that.” - they shared a devilish smirk. - “Anyway, can you make the coffee?”

  The pancakes weren’t burnt and they were pretty good, in fact. Eleanor felt like it had been ages since someone cooked for her.

“What?” - Damien asked as she giggled to herself. They had decided that they weren’t going after Robert that weekend; meeting with him the night before was enough of seeing his face. So, now they were binge watching to super cheesy and trashy movies. Ellie just couldn’t stop laughing to Damien’s snarky commentary.

“I was just thinking…” - she looked at him. They were both laying down on her couch, with him beneath her, one of his arms around her shoulders. - “Have you noticed that you’re always babysitting me? Since back in NY.” - she chuckled again. - “Actually, you’re always babysitting the Park cousins, aren’t you?” - Damien smirked back at her.

“Well, someone needs to look after Allen and Nadia since none of them is responsible.” - they shared a laugh. - “But with you… I don’t think this is babysitting.” - he caressed her smooth cheek with his thumb, his eyes staring at Ellie’s soft and pink lips. - “Besides, I know you would do the same to me.” - her grin widened and she raised an eyebrow.

“Oh would I? How can you be so sure about it, Nazario?” - Eleanor bent over him, their noses brushing slightly.

“Because you can’t resist me, Zhou.” - she rolled her eyes.

“Cocky.” - she whispered but kissed him anyway. He deepened it, tightening his grip around her, enjoying her weight pressing him against the small couch. - “…But maybe you’re right.” - she admitted, her forehead resting on his. - “You’re just so damn irresistible, Nazario.” - her lips travelled from his jaw to his neck, teasingly. - “You know, I still haven’t thanked you for helping me…”

She felt one of his hands on her chin, guiding her mouth back to his, kissing her demandingly and passionately. Eleanor moaned softly when their hips pressed together, letting her feel how badly he wanted her, as Damien’s calloused hands squeezed her thighs hungrily.

“D…” - the woman murmured, her breath speeding up, as she started unbuttoning his shirt, still on top of him. His heart was beating as fast as hers. - “I— AAAH, FREDDIE!”

Ellie cursed under her breath as she climbed down. Damien sat up too, feeling confused.

“What happened?” - he asked, looking to where a yellow shadow headed to.

“He licked me!” - Ellie shouted, visibly annoyed.

Damien just couldn’t hold back a laugh. The moment was completely gone, again. And because of the dog. Again.

“I guess this is Freddie way of saying that he wants some attention. Or that he wants us to work.” - the man observed, still chuckling softly.

“I guess you meant that he’s such a cockblocker.” - and then, Ellie joined him, laughing at the ridiculousness of that situation.

She called the dog back a few minutes later, when they both finally stopped laughing. It was just so damn hard to stay angry at that big doofus yellow furball for too long.

A detective work takes time, but the upcoming weeks passed swiftly, with Lucy’s and Zucko’s wedding day approaching each day.

Damien Nazario didn’t accept other cases while he was working with and for Eleanor Zhou and he spent most of his time there in Northbridge. He even rented an apartment, just two blocks from hers, to facilitate their ‘meetings’ (and so they could have some private time without Freddie interrupting them all the time…).

He kept following the ‘happily engaged’ couple. Some days he would spend hours outside their mansion (he found a really good spot from a neighbor’s house, and he even didn’t had to bribe anyone to get in there. All he needed to do was use his best charming smirk and a few compliments to the old single lady who lived just across the street and she happily let him in. Turned out that she was a big fan of Agatha Christie’s novels too and found his job ‘very exciting’. She even baked some cookies for him) and Zucko’s Point. Lucy’s routine was pretty normal; she was part of the Human Resources of Prescott Industries and worked 9 to 5, from Monday to Friday. Occasionally, Robert would give her a ride, but she usually left their house around 08:15 and took a train to her work. She would always go straight at home after work and she rarely left the mansion, even on weekends.

Robert’s life, on the other hand, had anything but routine. Although he went to his pub everyday, the time wasn’t the same. Some days he would go there just at the evening. Others, he would leave his house before dawn. It was crazy and exhausting.

And about the schedule he found on the man’s office, Robert indeed received some suspicious packages. And he would always go get them himself, personally, accompanied by a bodyguard. Damien was suspecting that it was drugs, but he couldn’t have a way to prove it without risking getting caught.

But it wasn’t all just work. Although he didn’t spend as much time as he wished with Ellie - since she worked from 9 to 5, and he had to follow Zucko and his crazy schedule everywhere -, they had established a weekly meeting on Saturdays, so he would inform her about anything new and suspicious about their suspect.

…And they would spend the whole weekend together. She would even join him on following Robert sometimes. But there were some days that they would spend the time with just each other’s company, shutting the world outside. Their favorite past time was making love, obviously. But it wasn’t just it. He learned a lot of things about Ellie.

The first thing he noticed about Eleanor Zhou was that, although she was a very outgoing person - she seemed to have that natural charisma the Parks had, that made almost everyone easily like them -, she had very few close friends. In fact, only Lucy seemed to be a close friend of hers. People from her work would always invite her - and even Damien, after her friend Poppy Patel apparently gossiped about him to everyone at Mortif - to go to their happy hours - and they actually went a couple of times -, but Ellie was more of an indoors person, preferring to stay at home over than going out. She liked spending her time reading, listening to music (and dancing along with it) and watching TV. Very simple and ordinary, different from the Ellie he met in New York, who went out everyday.

When he told her about that, she said “well, obviously! When I’m on a vacation, I’ll enjoy every single minute of it. I won’t spend my time locked in some hotel room; I like to explore new places and the city… but when I’m at home, I just like spending time at my cozy little apartment. Everything that I need is right here and my idea of a fun Friday night is eating junk food, watching Netflix and squealing over my series”.

It wasn’t much different from his, to be honest. His idea of a fun Friday night was getting drunk and making sarcastic commentary on made-for-TV-movies.

And then, one night, as they watched to the newest episode of one of Ellie’s favorite reality TV shows, America’s Most Eligible, after following Robert for hours and getting no new information, Damien caught himself thinking that, hey, whatever they were having, it was nice. It was calm and simple. Ellie was right, things could be simpler.

Neither of them talked about their relationship again and, although he knew he shouldn’t be thinking about it, Damien almost had the sensation that they were indeed dating. When they weren’t working to undercover Robert Zucko, at least.

Even though they were free to get involved with someone else, both of them didn’t need or want to meet with other people. They just seemed comfortable with being around each other. There was no big stress between them; they understood each other easily and respected their lives and personal space.

And to be completely honest… Damien hadn’t felt that happy for a long time. That was… that was the life he expected to share with Allen, years ago. Be part of his mundane, boring, and everyday life.

And here he was having it with Eleanor, someone he’d known for only almost four months. And things were being great. Even thinking about Allen sharing it with Hayden didn’t hurt as much as before.

Maybe he was finally healing. Maybe… Ellie could be the one. The one that would tolerate the boring, tired and cranky Damien Nazario.

It felt like she actually wanted to know him entirely, expecting nothing in exchange. Eleanor Zhou came into his life tearing down his walls, willing to get to know him. All of his sides, his traits and flaws.

And he wanted to know hers too.

Would things finally work? Would his life finally get that good constant that he’d been looking for years?

With Ellie?

It was the ending of September, Damien Nazario was a year older and the whether already was getting a little chiller. It was a Saturday night, and he and Ellie were inside his old muscle car, parked in a side little alley across Zucko’s Point street. Damien watched the pub’s front doors with his binoculars, while Eleanor ate some potato chips to distract her from all that boredom.

“So, how long are we going to stay here?” - Ellie knew that she was the one who hired him for the case and that she volunteered herself to help him investigate her best friend’s shady fiancé, but she was feeling so bored. She thought that a detective life would be far more interesting.

He chuckled, already used to Eleanor Zhou’s impatience.

“Patience, Ellie, it’s all about—”

“I know, I know.” - she rolled her eyes, interrupting him. - “Investigating is all about patience.” - she said in a strong voice, clearly imitating him. Damien couldn’t hold back a laugh. He turned to look at her.

“This was just terrible.”

“Fuck you, I know this was a perfect interpretation of Damien Nazario! Maybe my hidden skill is imitating people. I should become a voice actor!” - he laughed again.

“You’re such a dork.” - Damien stated. Eleanor just smirked back at him and shrugged, still chewing on her chips. D could say whatever he wanted, but she knew he liked her dorkiness anyway.

Damien gazed at the woman sitting next to him with longing eyes, a small grin on his face, when a sudden light grabbed him attention. He returned to observe the street.

They saw a black van parking just outside the pub. Two men climbed down the car as Zucko himself walked out of the building. They seemed to be buddies, since they patted each other’s back affectionately. Damien focused on the guys who had just arrived.

And then, something clicked inside his head. That name that he saw on Robert Zucko’s papers. It was from a drug dealer he was investigating back when he still was an agent in NYPD. And he was there, just across the street, talking to Robert Zucko in hushed tones.

“The camera, Ellie.” - the private investigator ordered and she quickly gave it to him. - “We’ve got you, motherfucker.” - he muttered as he positioned his professional camera and zoomed in. Thankfully, Zucko’s Point neon lights illuminated the group of men talking outside. Damien took several pictures, before the two men climbed back into the car and went away, while Robert entered the pub.

“What? Who were those guys? Do you know them?” - Eleanor questioned, still feeling a little lost with that sudden meeting. It took like just 10 minutes to happen.

“The bald one is called Octavio” - she nodded, reminding of one of the guys from the super shady van. - “…he’s a drug dealer. NYPD has been on his track for years. Trying to find to whom he works.”

“Holy fucking shit! Do you think he works for Robert?”

“I can’t confirm it by just what we witnessed here, but it definitely is suspicious. And I recall that we suspected that Octavio worked for a drug trafficking organization that had networks in all the US. But this organization was very discreet and we’d never had enough proof.”

Ellie nodded, taking all that information in. So maybe Lucy’s fiancé was a drug dealer. Okay.

She definitely didn’t see that coming.

“And now what?” - she finally asked, turning to face Damien again.

He already was looking at her, a mischievous smirk on his lips.

“Now we go full offence.”

[sensiblysilly]

17 and 53 for miritama :')

Okay, so I know this prompt list thingy was originally meant to be me just EXPLAINING how I would incorporate all these tropes into a fic, but when coming up with ideas I thought it’d be fun to just, you know, write the thing. (Which I procrastinated for 3 months lol). And, woah, I don’t know how - but this one really got away from me. So, here’s a whole dang fic (I hope you don’t mind)!

(From this prompt list.)

A lot of things can change in a year. But some things stay the same. Mirio, Tamaki realizes, manages to be both at once.

Read below the cut or on AO3:

This was probably a bad idea, Tamaki thought as he looked up at the flashing sign signalling the pub he was currently standing in front of was open. In all honesty, he hadn’t really planned on coming tonight, but last minute he’d gotten a text from Kirishima asking him to meet him there. And Tamaki had never been very good at saying no to Kirishima. So, in the end, he’d managed to find a more-clean-than-dirty pair of pants and wrinkled shirt in his ever-growing pile of clothing on his bedroom floor to throw on, splashed some water on his face, and ran down the stairs and out the door before his mom could question where he was going.

Being back at home with his parents was weird to say the least. It probably had something to do with the fact he was in his twenties and still living at his parents’ house. But it also might have had something to do with the fact his mom had started wearing her hair up in a bun while he’d been deployed. It shouldn’t have been that big of a deal, but now sometimes when he looked at her he couldn’t always recognize her right away, and it put him on edge.

Everything put Tamaki on edge.

He’d already been a little jumpy before he’d enlisted, and serving a year overseas hadn’t made that any better. It was why he hadn’t done much since being back, even though he’d been home for over a month now. He attended the regiment’s weekly training drills. But he didn’t really go anywhere else besides that, or even leave his room that often.

He kept reminding himself that he needed to find himself a job, because being on reserve didn’t constitute a full-time position, but whenever he’d go on the computer to start looking, he’d never make it very long without feeling the urge to stop and go lie down. Something about the brightness of the screen against his eyes.

He’d tried going to the gym with Kirishima once. But he’d found the clanging of equipement too loud, and he didn’t like how the other men would eye him when they were waiting for their turn on a machine. He knew they didn’t mean anything by it, but it didn’t sit well with him anyways. Maybe showing up tonight was in part a way to make up for ditching Kirishima at the gym. Tamaki did feel kind of bad about that.

Not bad enough to start going again, but bad enough that he’d considered it.

The bar was far enough away from his parents’ house that he could have justified driving there. But Tamaki wasn’t really comfortable in cars, or around cars in general anymore, so he walked himself there instead. There were still cars parked on the side of the road that he’d had to pass by, but it wasn’t as bad as it could have been. The cool autumn air felt nice, he thought as he tucked his nose into the folds of his scarf. Refreshing, even.

“Amajiki!” Called Kirishima as he jogged up to where Tamaki stood, breath visible against the cold night. “There you are.”

Tamaki just nodded his greeting in reply.

See, that was the other reason why Tamaki didn’t go out much since being back. He just didn’t know how to talk to people (civilians) anymore. He would never know what to say, and so his words always came out sounding a little more harsh than he’d meant them to. He’d been fighting with his dad a lot lately because of it. And he didn’t like the way people would blink back at him in surprise, closing their mouths suddenly after he’d said anything. So he found it easier to just stay silent most of the time. He’d never been a big talker before anyways, so it’s not as if his army buddies were expecting him to say a lot. It’s just that everyone else didn’t seem to get that.

But he was working on it.

“Glad you could make it, man.” Said Kirishima as he gave Tamaki’s shoulder a steady pat that both served as a comforting gesture and as a way to manhandle Tamaki past the doors and into the establishment.

“You,” started Tamaki before pattering off, pointing to Kirishima’s hair to silently finish his sentence when the other man tugged off his beanie and pushed it into the sleeve of his coat before hanging it up by the door.

“Oh? Yeah!” Agreed Kirishima, fingering the somewhat longer locks (than Tamaki remembered anyways) that he’d managed to spike up despite the beanie. They were dyed a bright red colour. “Felt like a change, I guess. Plus now my hair’s finally long enough to pull it off!”

Tamaki had noticed that too; how his own hair had been growing longer now that they weren’t buzzing it off as often. He hadn’t figured out what to do with it yet, and it sat like a dark mop atop his head, bangs constantly getting in his eyes.

He couldn’t say that he liked the change to his friend’s hair, because honestly Tamaki wasn’t sure that he did. But he could say that it suited Kirishima, because that was true, and the man seemed pleased enough with that answer.

“All the guys usually congregate at the back.” Explained Kirishima as he lead the way through the crowd of tables to a back corner where Tamaki recognized a bunch of men from his regiment milling about.

“It’s good that you made it out, Amajiki. I almost started to worry when we hadn’t been seeing you around outside of drills.” That was Corporal Toyomitsu’s (Tamaki’s commanding officer) greeting. Tamaki nodded back.

He offered a wave and a head nod to a few people he recognized from his base on the other side of the bar before excusing himself from Kirishima and Toyomitsu’s company to order a drink at the counter. When the bartender slid the dark bottle over to him he managed to take a swig before placing it back down on the countertop. He’d never been that big of a fan of beer.

He occupied most of his time by watching the drops of condensation form and slide down the beer bottle in front of him. He didn’t make a point of talking to anyone unless they made a point of coming up and talking to him, which only a few - like Kirishima and Toyomitsu - did. He’d never been to one of these get-together’s before, but Kirishima said they happened almost every week. Same time, same place. And of course Tamaki was invited to join them, he’d fought along side these men after all.

“Tamaki, is that you?”

The voice came from over his shoulder, and when Tamaki turned around to see who’d spoken to him he was greeted to the sight of a slightly too wide smile, bottomless eyes and the sturdy build of Mirio Togata.

“Shit, it is!” Exclaimed Mirio, loudly. “I almost didn’t see you there! Mind if I sit?”

Of course Tamaki didn’t, so he gestured towards the barstool beside him in a welcoming manner and Mirio took a seat.

The first thing Tamaki noticed about Mirio was that he was very loud. His voice boomed when he spoke, and he gestured with his hands a lot to emphasize his point. He laughed a lot too. Even when he was talking about something that wasn’t very funny. And he talked about a lot of things. It probably made him seem a little unhinged to anyone who might be overhearing their conversation, but Tamaki kind of understood - or at least he thought he might understand - so he didn’t comment on it.

The only thing was, that when Mirio laughed his eyes stayed serious, and the contrast made his facial expressions look a little different than Tamaki remembered from before. But then again, Tamaki looked different too - he was reminded of it every time he accidentally looked in the mirror when brushing his teeth. So it wasn’t as if Mirio was the only one who’d changed in their time apart.

“Just got back on Saturday,” elaborated Mirio, his hands swept out before him. “But you must have been back for a little while, no? I remember your unit shipped out a few weeks before ours did.”

“Yeah,” said Tamaki, coughing to clear his throat from the disuse. “Been back 6 weeks.”

Mirio hummed when he heard that. “Any luck finding a job?” And then, “ah! Well I’m sure you will soon,” when Tamaki shook his head in reply.

“This is the first place I’ve been.” Offered Mirio when Tamaki let silence descend between them. “Well, this and the tattoo parlour. But I haven’t managed to make it out anywhere else yet.”

Tamaki just shrugged at that, eyes tracking the journey of a water droplet as it ran down brown-tinted glass.

“It’s nice though. I like all the chatter.” Continued Mirio, hand lifting up to gesture around the room. “Reminds me of the barracks during boot camp, or… Well, it just feels nice, is all.”

Tamaki huffed out a little snort at that. He couldn’t really agree, but somehow it didn’t really surprise him that Mirio thought so.

“Tamaki?” Asked Mirio, and Tamaki turnt his head to meet Mirio’s inquiring gaze. “Any chance you’d want to come over for a cup of coffee? I think I might head out, but I’d like to keep catching up with you, if you want to that is.”

The walk back to Mirio’s house was surprising quiet. It seemed like - unlike in the bar, where everything was noisy - the minute Mirio was surrounded by true silence he quieted down to match it. Or maybe it was because Mirio’s street had lots of cars parked on it. But Tamaki couldn’t be sure Mirio felt the same way about cars that Tamaki did, so who really knew.

The house looked almost the exact same as Tamaki could remember from back when they were in grade school and he used to walk home with Mirio to play video games in the basement (and sometimes do their homework). The door was a different colour: a deep red instead of brown, but besides that everything seemed in order. Tamaki liked that.

The coffee maker’s quiet puttering was the only sound as Tamaki found himself a seat at Mirio’s kitchen table, watching as Mirio watched the coffee maker, body leaning against the counter. He managed a small thank you when Mirio presented him with a steaming mug a few minutes later.

“I see you don’t wear yours either.” Were the first words out of Mirio’s mouth after they’d both taken a sip of their drinks. He’d gestured towards Tamaki’s neck to explain, and Tamaki reached up to his chest only to have his hand clutch at empty air instead of the dog tags he’d expected to be there.

He must have forgotten them on his bedside table, next to his pill bottle. He hadn’t thought about it really, their familiar weight missing from under his shirt. He wondered for a moment if he should have worn them tonight, before deciding that no, that wasn’t necessary. Lots of the others didn’t wear them everywhere.

Mirio was clutching at the space in front of his own neck now, eyes with a faraway look in them. “Yeah, I just- can’t- wear them anymore. Makes me feel like I’m drowning, you know?”

Tamaki remained silent at that. His body was already starting to re-familiarize itself with Mirio, this Mirio, and he knew the other man wasn’t finished speaking yet. So he waited patiently for Mirio to pick up where he left off a few moments later.

“Not around my neck anyways.” He added as he moved to roll up the sleeve of his sweater. On the inside of his forearm was an outline of two dog tags and a chain on skin that looked sunburnt, red and raw. “Not that these are mine. But you get it.”

Tamaki stared at the image as if there was a chance he might recognize the information printed there. But, as expected, he didn’t.

“Whose are they?” He finally asked, finger nails digging into the decorative indent adorning the kitchen table in front of him as his pulse beat heavily in his ears. His eyes moved to hover over the window above the sink across from where he sat, feeling as though the sight of that tattoo wasn’t really for him, and therefore was not his place to gawk at it.

“They were Sir’s,” answered Mirio, his face transforming into something tired and worn down as he spoke. “That’s a nickname. He was my sergeant.” Mirio’s voice quieted at that before letting out a loud bark of laughter that made Tamaki jump in his chair. “Anyways, he can’t- can’t wear them anymore. So I wear them for him, right?”

And shit, now it was Tamaki’s turn to say something, but this was exactly what he wasn’t good at. Because every comment he could feel build up on his tongue was completely wrong and he had no idea what was the right thing to say. But before he could bumble his way through some sort of attempt at consoling the other man that would only ever be lacking, Mirio spoke up again.

“I’m glad you can still wear yours though, Tamaki. Not that you are right now - which is fine. But, just that you can, if you wanted to that is.”

When Tamaki looked back up at that, it was to find Mirio looking back at him with this really sweet and tender smile lighting up his features. It felt a lot softer than any other expression Tamaki had seen on Mirio’s face all night, and it made the other man look years younger than he was. As if he was sixteen years old again and smiling at Tamaki like Tamaki had just offered to share his chemistry notes before an upcoming test.

And, much like he would have back then, Tamaki could feel his cheeks begin to heat up under the attention. The crush he’d been nursing (and denying) for years crawling out from inside of his chest, where he thought it’d been buried for good, to cling tightly onto his heart and squeeze. He sighed.

Because if the warmth in Mirio’s once cold eyes was any indication, then maybe that infatuation of his wasn’t as one-sided as he’d once convinced himself it was.

“I’m very glad you’re still here too, Mirio.”

[firesoulstuff]

“Mask” for Barry and Snart. (Platonic, but can be anywhere from antagonistic to frenemies to actual friends.)

Is it too Late to go Back?

Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16794619

Barry doesn’t believe it.

The robberies, the items stolen, the precision used in all of them, Joe had even compared it to the work of Leonard Snart before the cold gun. On a hunch that maybe there’s a copycat on the loose Barry went down to Saints and Sinners to see if maybe anyone there could think of someone who might have admired their old foe. He thought of Lisa, but she has her own way of doing things, and according to Cisco she moved out to Gotham after Snart’s death and is currently keeping her record clean. So he was expecting to get one of two answers from the bartender: either to go screw himself or a name of the next wanna-be criminal.

He wasn’t expecting the answer he’s been given.

“I’m sorry,” he gapes, leaning onto the surface of the counter even as the bartender glares at him with a stare that could kill. “I thought… isn’t Leonard Snart dead?”

“That’s what we all thought.” The burly man says with a shrug, crossing his arms over his chest. “It wasn’t weird to not see him for a few weeks, even months sometimes. But after three years of radio silence from him, his buddy, and his sister we assumed maybe they all got locked up in a supermax or something. But he was here a few days ago, said something went down on a job, that was all he’d say.”

Barry takes a second to consider that, which the bartender uses to walk away. He doesn’t believe it, if he’s being honest, and even if he were to believe it it’s not like Snart is known for being easy to find. Still, if he’s robbing places he has to know it will attract attention, and after sacrificing himself to save everyone…

There’s one place he could check, just to see.

He speeds from the pub and comes to a stop in the living room of the safe house where Snart and Rory once held Cisco hostage. The place looks abandoned, dust on the stairway and the floors but… there should be more.

He hears a clanking sound from down the hall, the kitchen, and although he could race right in there in the blink of an eye he instead tiptoes as quietly as possible, cringing every time another floorboard creaks under him. He hears the sigh, and by the time he’s able to peer around the doorway Snart is already leaning with his back against the counter and staring him down, the fingers of one hand tapping impatiently on the surface.

The other arm… well, the other arm is gone.

“Snart?” He manages to ask; almost convinced he’s seeing a ghost.

“Took you long enough to find me, I was beginning to think I’d have to test out your home security again.”

“Uh…. How…” Barry doesn’t mean for is vague gesturing to be mostly directed towards the other man’s newly missing limb but… well it’s kind of hard to ignore.

Snart glances at his missing arm as though just noticing it’s gone, and then he shrugs.

“Probably something to do with the bomb.” He says, and then because this is Leonard Snart a teakettle whistles from the stove and he sets to work on fixing two mugs in the most casual way in the world. “All I know is one minute I had my hand on a time bomb, the next I was waking up in some random hospital in Star City with my arm gone and it’s 2019.”

Barry just gapes at him for a second, processing that, and he barely grabs the mug that he’s handed.

“Couldn’t the Waverider’s med bay fix that?” He knows Ray had mentioned their Gideon could regenerate limbs once.

But Snart just turns for a cabinet and starts pulling out sugar and honey.

“The Legends think I’m dead.”

“We can call them!” He offers, “We’ve figured out-” he stops when Snart turns and glares at him. He already thought of that, apparently. “How long… How long have you been back?”

At first Snart doesn’t answer. He just sighs, squeezes two drops of honey into his tea, stirs it around, and then takes a long sip.

“A few months,” he says, and Barry must look like he’s either judging or hurt because the look he gets has him biting his tongue even though there aren’t any words on it.

“Nurse seemed surprised when I asked for the year but apparently I’d been in rough shape when some random guy found me lying on the edge of a freeway, I think she attributed it to trauma. I was in the hospital less than a few hours when some guy with glasses came to talk to me, said he was with the government.” The look he gives at that, Barry can only imagine what look he gave this poor guy.

“I’ve dealt with enough government types to know this doofus was hiding something, then he started asking me these weird questions. Almost like-”

“Like he knew about time travel?”

Snart nods, a flicker of something that might have been hurt flashing through his eyes, and then he sets his mug down.

“I got him to talk,” he admits, “Wasn’t hard, he said his name was Gary and he worked for the Time Bureau. Long story short, he caught me up on everything I’ve missed. I made him swear he won’t tell the team I’m alive.”

“Why?” The question bursts from his mouth before he can even consider stopping it. Snart levels a glare with him as though saying he should already know, but he isn’t entirely convinced that Snart knows himself.

Otherwise he wouldn’t have gone back to knocking over museums.

“You can’t hide behind that mask forever you know.” He says, to which Snart crinkles his brow.

“What mask?”

“That mask.” Barry answers, gesturing to the scowling face before him. “Glaring and scowling. Captain Cold. You saved the world Snart; you freed every person who has ever lived from being puppets. You can’t go on pretending that this is you. You’re not a criminal.”

“I think the past few weeks of robberies says otherwise.” He tries to argue but Barry isn’t having it.

“You did that to get me here!” He exclaims, “You said it yourself, took me long enough to find you.”

“Well maybe I was lonely.”

Barry rolls his eyes; he can feel himself getting to the end of his rope with this argument already.

“Come on man. You want to go back to the Legends; I know you do. Rory’s found a place there, he’s happy; he’s a hero. He isn’t even the guy on your crew I thought had good in him, you were. If he’s found a place there then I can’t imagine you didn’t.”

For once Snart doesn’t come back with some snippy sarcasm. Instead he inhales a deep breath through his nose and then releases it, and even then he doesn’t talk straight away.

“Funny thing about places Barry,” he eventually says, clinking his spoon back into his tea. “They can be filled, and I’ve been gone for three years.”

Oh.

At first he only nods, the words hitting him like a truck. So much has changed in the past three years, with everyone. To be suddenly dropped into it all…

“They’ll take you back.” He finally assures Snart, finally taking a step out of the doorway and into the room. “You’re still a Legend.”

“Maybe,” Snart admits, his face thoughtful. “But you said it yourself, Mick’s found a place there. He’s happy. He’s a hero. He did all that without me there, because he didn’t have me constantly checking over his every move. I checked in on Lisa, not that she knows, but she’s OK. She’s on the straight and narrow, because for the first time in her life she doesn’t have somebody dragging her into a bank heist-”

“Snart-”

“And don’t think I didn’t make Gary spill about the rest of the Legends.” He just talks over the attempted interruption. “Most of the ones I knew are dead, or retired. The others… they’re fine. Sara’s dating Gary’s boss, Raymond’s still Raymond, and Mick… Like you said, he’s doing good for himself. The rest are all strangers to me, but they’re strangers who get along. Who am I to barge in there and ruin it all?”

Barry thinks on that for a second, processing it, and trying to think of something he can possibly say.

“You know Iris has a brother?” He ends up asking, nodding when Snart only raises a questioning eyebrow. “His name’s Wally. Her mom… her mom had been into drugs for a long time. Joe always told us she was dead but… she wasn’t. She left. When she left she was pregnant, Joe didn’t know. Anyway, a few weeks before you joined The Legends, the days after you warned me about Mardon and James Jesse actually, Wally showed up at our door. Things were good with everyone; our lives were fine. But we wanted him. It took some time to adjust, for us and for him, but now? I wouldn’t trade him for anything. None of us would.”

Snart actually looks like he’s considering that, so Barry takes the risk and steps even further into the small kitchen until he can place a hand on the other man’s shoulder, which shockingly doesn’t end in a broken wrist for him.

“Just go back, they’ll want you there, trust me.”

It’s a moment before Snart gives any sort of reaction, but after a long while he meet’s Barry’s gaze, and he nods.