#I caught covid blinked and now it’s the end of the month??

[hebuiltfive]

This month has been very eventful and has flown by so fast. What do you mean tomorrow is the 27th of October? That Halloween is only a few days away? That November is just around the corner??? I feel like I’ve missed so much here, but I’m trying to see the positive and look at it like: at least I have lots of lovely bits to catch up on! 😄

[abovethemists]

Love Makes Us Sick - Chapter 7

[Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] [Chapter 5] [Chapter 6]

Read it on AO3

A/N: The last time I updated this fic, OUAT had just gone off the air. The last time I updated this fic, no one had ever heard of COVID 19 because it didn���t exist. It was a simpler time. It was 2018. Nothing is ever abandoned, y’all, I’m just slow as fuck. 

Summary: Rumple accompanies Belle to her first sonogram. 

*

The wait until Thursday morning seemed to go by in the blink of an eye and also interminably slowly. Rumple had marked the appointment on the calendar in his kitchen, glancing at it every morning before leaving for the shop. Wednesday evening he stayed awake all night, sitting in the living room with nothing but the voices in his head for company. It was impossible to sleep when something so life changing was happening to him. 

Until Belle’s announcement, he hadn’t given much thought to being a father again. Bae’s death was still so raw, a chunk of his heart forever missing, never to return. When Belle had left him six months ago it seemed an impossibility that they would ever be in this position. And yet here they were, expecting a baby. Was there enough of him left to be a decent father? Gods, he hoped so. 

Thursday morning dawned bright and sunny and Rumple faced it with bleary-eyed exhaustion, the kind not born from lack of sleep but rather general weariness. There was excitement in his chest, but it was tempered by fear and worry and doubt. Nervousness too, at the idea of seeing Belle as much as anything else. 

He hadn’t seen her again since that morning in his shop. Things had been almost civil between them at their last meeting and he didn’t want to risk a run in where things went sour and he was disinvited from the doctor’s appointment. He felt if they focused on their child, perhaps they could learn to be amicable in their split. They both wanted what was best for their baby. At least on that one thing they would always agree. 

The walk to his shop was almost annoyingly perfect. The sky was a cloudless blue, a light breeze was blowing in from the bay, the birds were singing and the rhododendrons growing outside his father-in-law’s shop were in full bloom. Spring was alive and well, chasing away the last chill of winter. Everything was growing and changing, rebirth following decay. 

Perhaps, if he’d been in a better frame of mind, Rumplestiltskin would have seen the weather as a harbinger of hope. Perhaps the worst was behind them and this baby would bring renewal, an end to the months of uncertainty and pain. 

But the anxiety in Rumple’s chest left no room for hope. Instead he felt an ominous sense of dread. If he screwed up now, he had so much more to lose. He would not, could not, mess up again like he had with Bae. He had a chance to do things right this time, and he was terrified he would squander his second chance at fatherhood, just as he had done with his second chance at true love. 

Standing behind the counter of his shop in silence was driving him mad so he stomped off to his workroom in the back, looking around for something to busy his hands with. He couldn’t be alone with his thoughts, the panic rising in him longing to be unleashed either in a burst of magic energy likely to level Main Street or, more likely, by smashing something with his old gold handled cane. 

He gripped his hands into fists to keep from lashing out, settling instead for sitting behind his work bench where various bits and bobbles were scattered. He’d been patching an antique opera cape the other day, thread and scissors still laying out, and he grabbed hold of the garment, seeing what he could do to improve it. His self imposed project only took a few minutes and then he was restlessly looking for something else to do. There was a small round stand mirror sitting on the workbench and Gold caught his reflection in it. He’d never been fond of the way he looked. Becoming the Dark One had almost been a relief. His scaled skin, reptilian eyes, and dark nails were so different from the man that had always stared back at him from his reflection. His Dark One form was ugly and strange but at least it was interesting, arresting, no one overlooked him. He’d spent his mortal life being entirely invisible and he stared hard at his reflection now, at the same pathetic little man he’d been so long ago. His dark hair was going gray at the temples as it had been centuries ago, the aging process never progressing. His brown eyes were a little too large for his face, his nose long and pointed and his face too thin. The worry lines around his eyes were the same, prematurely marking his face after a lifetime spent unsure of where his next meal would come from. What had Belle ever seen in him? The imp was preferable to this. Even the length of his hair hadn’t changed in centuries. 

His eyes fell from his reflection to the scissors on the table, and like a man possessed he grabbed them up. Before he even knew what he was doing, he had taken the scissors to his hair, chopping off one of the long locks. He looked back at his reflection in surprise, before glancing down at the chunk of dark hair littering his desk. 

The panic bubbled up even more, and his hands trembled as he took the scissors back to his hair, cutting and evening it out. A few minutes later, he threw the scissors back down on the table, taking in the final result of his tantrum. 

His hair was a total hack job. 

Rumple ran a hand over the shorter locks, feeling utterly ridiculous. It was uneven, and sticking up at odd angles. He looked like someone had taken a weed whacker to his head and he had to imagine even that would have been preferable to what he had done. What had he done? He was supposed to meet up with Belle in an hour and he was going to look like this? 

She would know, recognize in an instant, that he was spiraling. She would surely draw away from him again, knowing his volatile mental state could only be a harbinger of doom for their growing family. With one stupid outburst he would bring his entire future relationship with his child to a grinding halt. 

Belatedly, he remembered that despite appearances, he was still the Dark One. He had magic, and magic could fix almost anything. A wave of his hand had his hair looking like he’d freshly come from the barber and he gave a sigh of relief, his hands still shaking slightly. He supposed he could just as easily return it to its previous state, but he restrained himself. He had ended his relationship, such as it was, with Belle. Even going so far as to cancel his monthly rental of the room at Granny’s. They were expecting a child. Everything between them would change now. It felt right to show it on his person. He was embarking on a new journey now. He may have lost Belle forever, but they would raise this child right. He could do this.

He had no other choice. 

*

Belle was already sitting in the waiting room outside the OBGYN office when Rumple arrived forty-five minutes later. She was looking as lovely as ever in a pretty blue dress and soft gray cardigan, her eyes cast down and staring at her hands clasped tightly in her lap. She didn’t even look at him as he approached, sitting down in the chair next to her.

“Rumple,” she said, her voice surprised as she glanced up at him. Her eyes went straight to his hair before settling on his face again, but she didn’t mention the change. “You came.” 

“Of course,” he returned. “I said I would.” 

She just nodded, giving him a tight smile. 

They sat there for a long moment in silence. Rumple could feel Belle’s eyes on him, feel the question burning on her tongue. 

“It seemed time for a change,” he said by way of explanation, heading her off. He didn’t particularly want to talk about his morning tantrum. 

“Oh,” Belle said, her blue eyes widening. “Well, it looks nice. Very handsome.” 

Rumple swallowed, his throat suddenly too dry and wished Belle would avert her eyes somewhere else. 

“Not that you weren’t handsome before too,” she continued awkwardly. “But it’s nice. It suits you.” 

“Thank you,” he said, quietly, his eyes on the patterned tile floor beneath his feet. 

Belle must have sensed that he wasn’t open to more conversation on the topic because she changed her tactic. 

“Lovely day, isn’t it?” 

Rumple snorted out a laugh. 

“The weather, Belle?” he said, glancing aside at her. “Really?” 

Belle let out a giggle. 

“Well, I don’t know. It seemed like a safe topic of conversation.” 

Rumple shook his head. “Is this who we are now?” 

“It doesn’t have to be,” Belle countered, placing her hand over his. Rumple stared down at her small pale hand against his own. She was so tiny, so delicate, but strong too. Strong enough to survive him. He hadn’t yet managed to destroy her like he had every other person who had ever loved him. She was resilient. 

“Rumple, why did you cut your hair?” she asked softly. 

He sighed, wondering where to begin. They needed to be honest if they were going to raise a child together. If he couldn’t share his innermost fears with Belle, who could he? 

“I…” 

“Mrs. Gold,” a nurse interrupted, stepping out into the waiting room. “We’re ready for you.” 

Rumple felt his heart flutter in his chest and tamped it down just as quickly. They were still technically married. Her name was still Mrs. Gold. It didn’t mean anything. 

Belle nodded, standing up and Rumple followed after her awkwardly, staying a pace behind her. 

He kept a respectful distance as Belle was weighed and her vitals taken. He felt out of place, standing there holding her purse and trying not to listen to any of her private medical information. He supposed it did concern him. Belle’s health now directly impacted the health of their child. But he didn’t want to be an imposition. He didn’t want to do anything that would dissuade Belle from including him in these visits going forward. 

Eventually they were ushered into a small, dimly lit room. There was a large, beige reclining exam chair covered in white protective paper in the middle of the room and Belle hopped up on it without being told. There was an air of nervous excitement about her as the nurse helped her lean back and pulled her dress up about her ribcage, placing a towel across her bottom half for modesty. There was an uncomfortable looking plastic chair shoved into the corner of the room and Rumple settled himself in it, still clutching Belle’s purse in his lap, and trying to make himself as small and unobtrusive as possible. 

The door cracked open again as the nurse was spreading some sort of clear jelly across Belle’s still flat belly. 

“Ah, the Gold’s,” Dr. Whale said, shutting the door closed with a push of his foot and spreading his arms wide. “Congratulations.” 

“Thank you,” Belle said with a small duck of her head. 

Whale turned toward Rumple and pulled up short, his blond eyebrows rising. 

“Nice haircut!” he enthused. For a wild moment, Rumple was afraid he was going to reach down and ruffle his hair, but the good doctor restrained himself. 

“Don’t,” he said shortly. 

“No, I’m serious,” Whale continued. “It looks great. I always thought the old look was too Enchanted Forest for this modern world. You know I just made a change myself.” 

Whale pointed to his own head where, upon second glance, Rumple realized it was a few shades blonder than usual. He didn’t feel the need to comment on it however and after a moment Whale dropped his finger, letting out an awkward cough as he rounded the end of Belle’s exam table. 

“Belle, how have you been feeling?” 

“Good,” Belle said with a nod. “A little nausea but nothing too bad.” 

“Great,” he said, patting her on the knee. 

Rumple ground his teeth together at the simple motion. He wasn’t a jealous man, not really. In a perfect world, Belle would move on from him, find someone worthy of loving her. But Whale was not that person. 

“Don’t you have any colleagues who could handle this?” he asked between gritted teeth. 

Whale’s hand dropped from Belle’s knee as he turned to look back at Rumplestiltskin. 

“I assure you, I’m very qualified,” Whale said with what he probably thought was a winning smile. “I was trusted enough to deliver Snow White and Prince Charming’s little bundle of joy.” 

“Oh, the little bundle of joy who was almost immediately kidnapped from his delivery room?” 

“That was not the fault of myself or this hospital!” Whale exclaimed. 

“Doesn’t exactly inspire confidence though,” Rumple said with a sneer.  

“Hey, I’m the only doctor in this town who didn’t get their qualifications from a curse,” Whale pointed out. 

“Yes and what did you use those qualifications for again?” Rumple asked. “Raising the undead as unholy abominations? Hardly something to brag about, Victor.”

“Okay!” Belle butted in. “Can we stop this ridiculous argument and focus on me for a second? I’m pregnant, remember?” 

Whale turned back to Belle. 

“Of course,” he said, suddenly all professional efficiency. He took a white wand shaped apparatus from the nurse and placed it against Belle’s abdomen. An image flickered to life on a television screen mounted to the wall. 

And then, there it was, their child. The little bean shaped thing had an obvious head that made up most of its size, stumpy little arms and legs sprouted from a tiny little body. It moved slightly, those little arms waving. 

Rumple had never seen anything like it. There certainly wasn’t the technology for this sort of thing when Milah had been pregnant with Bae and even if there had been, he’d missed her pregnancy entirely on the front lines of the Ogres War. 

He felt a surge of protectiveness for the little thing. The child would grow quickly, making their way into the world in a few short months. He could provide for them in ways he only could have dreamed of with Bae. This child would want for nothing, and they would have a mother who loved them unconditionally, something he couldn’t provide Baelfire with no matter how he’d wished it. 

He felt tears stinging his eyes, and he blinked them away rapidly. He would not cry in front of Whale of all people. 

“There’s your little pride and joy,” Whale said, moving the wand around on Belle’s stomach and showing different angles. “Heartbeat is 167, nice and strong.” 

He tapped a couple of keys on a keyboard next to Belle’s bed and a line showed up on the screen, measuring the fetus from root to tip. “Baby is measuring at 8 weeks 6 days, that sound about right?” 

Belle didn’t say anything and Rumple tore his eyes away from the image of his child to focus on its mother. Tears were streaming silently down Belle’s cheeks as she stared at the screen. He was out of his chair and at her side in a moment.

“Oh, sweetheart, don’t cry,” he said, patting her shoulder awkwardly, forgetting his own tears. “Please.” 

Belle shook her head, grabbing on to his hand on her shoulder with both of hers. “They’re happy tears for once. That’s our baby, Rumple.” 

Belle didn’t let go of his hand for the rest of the appointment and Rumple was so distracted by it that he barely paid attention to the various instructions Whale gave them. Before he knew it, they were being given a print out of sonogram photos of the baby and ushered to the front desk where Belle made another appointment for in a month’s time.  

They made their way out into the parking lot together, Rumple staring down at the sonogram photo of their child in his hands. They would be a whole person someday soon. In a few short months Belle would deliver a beautiful baby. He might even get to be present for the birth, if he played his cards right. But then Belle would take the child home with her, and he’d be lucky to get the occasional weekend. 

A pit formed in his stomach, a black hole sucking the happiness of the last hour away into nothingness. 

“Well, thank you for coming,” Belle said, pulling him back to the present. 

“Of course,” he said, placing the sonogram photo carefully in his jacket pocket and looking up at Belle. “Whatever you need from me.” 

Belle nodded again and Rumple marveled that this was possibly the longest they’d gone in each other's company without raising their voices since the day they met. 

“It’s a little overwhelming,” Belle said with a shake of her head. “I’ve read a few books on childbirth and childrearing, but none of it can prepare you for the reality of it all.”

“I didn’t have any books,” Rumple returned. “We made do. Baelfire was a happy, healthy child despite the world he was growing up in. This baby has a massive head start. Electricity, running water, no ogres.” 

Belle huffed a little laugh. 

“If not for the ogres, this child wouldn’t exist. We’d never have met if they weren’t invading my father’s kingdom.” 

“No, we would have,” Rumple said confidently. At Belle’s look of confusion he continued. “Fate and destiny have ways of coming together, no matter how we fight them.” 

Belle’s lips parted prettily, her eyes shimmering in the full spring sunlight. She was so unbelievably beautiful. 

“And what is our fate, Rumplestiltskin?” she asked. “If you believe it’s already been determined.” 

Rumple shook his head. “My powers of foresight never worked very well in my own life. I certainly never saw you coming.” 

“Would you have run if you did?”

Yes was the simple answer. Belle was a complication he hadn’t planned for, a distraction from his life’s work of finding Baelfire. He was glad he hadn’t seen her coming. He would never want to lose what they had, even if it was over for good now. He would never want to lose the love he had for her, or their unborn child.

“Move back home,” he blurted out, before letting out a huff of awkward laughter. He really hadn’t meant to say that out loud. 

Belle’s eyes widened. “I beg your pardon?” 

He had an out. He could tell her to forget about it. He could tell her she’d misheard him. They could continue as usual. 

He didn’t want that. 

“Move back home,” he repeated, slower and more clearly, so Belle could not mistake what he had said. 

It was Belle’s turn for awkward laughter. 

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” she said with a shake of her head. “We’re not ready for that. I’m not ready for that.” 

“You can have the guest suite,” he countered. “You don’t ever have to see me if you don’t want to. Lord knows the house is big enough. But you wouldn’t be alone. I’d be there in case of emergencies. Or even just to cook you regular meals. Offer a foot rub, if you need it.” 

He gave a pointed look to her footwear, her usual four inch heels improving her diminutive height from downright tiny to merely petite. 

“Well if you’re offering foot rubs…” Belle trailed off with a wry twist of her lips. 

“Anything you need Belle,” he said with a nod. “It’s yours.” 

Belle bit her lip, still looking unsure. 

“You’ll need help once the baby arrives,” he continued. “Who better for midnight feedings and diaper changes than someone who doesn’t need sleep?” 

“I…I’ll think about it,” Belle agreed, kicking her foot against the pavement. “I can’t deny that some help would be nice. But…” she trailed off. 

“But what?” Rumple prompted. 

“Our relationship,” she said, her voice shaking slightly. “We haven’t exactly had a clean break as evident by my current condition and I don’t know if muddying the lines further is for the best.” 

Of course. She was worried that cohabitating might lead to reconciliation. They still loved each other, had admitted as much repeatedly. He couldn’t deny it was his fervent wish. But Rumple had no expectations of Belle ever being his wife again in anything more than name. He certainly wouldn’t push it on her. 

“As I said, it’s a big house. You never have to see me if that’s what you wish.” 

“I want to see you,” she said in a quiet voice. “That’s the problem. I trust you more than I trust myself, in that regard at least.” 

He reached for her hand, holding it loosely so she could pull back if she wanted to. She didn’t. 

“Belle, I love you,” he said, as sure of the words as he always was. “And I love our baby. I just want what’s best for you both.” 

She looked up at him with those wide, blue eyes, so clear he could fall into them and drown forever in their depths. 

“I know,” she assured him, squeezing his fingers with her own. “I just wish I knew what that was.” 

Rumple stayed silent, watching Belle deliberate. He wasn’t a hopeful man by nature, but Belle hadn’t rejected the idea flat out. That alone was a mark in his favor. 

“Can I think about it?” she asked. “Before I make a decision.”

“Of course,” Rumple agreed, dropping her hand. “Take all the time you need, Belle.”

He drove back to the shop feeling better than he had in days. After taking up residence behind the counter, he pulled the sonogram photo from his pocket once more. He stared at the silhouette of their child, tracing the little figure with his fingertip. 

“Don’t worry, little one,” he said with a wistful smile. “Papa will fix everything.”

[iam93percentstardust]

A very happy birthday month to you! I’m a fan of your Stony fics. If you’re still taking prompts, could you do one with a Las Vegas backdrop? Maybe Steve’s first time there with Tony for some reason? I was supposed to have my first trip there ever but Covid cancelled it. Maybe at least they can have a happy ending there. 🙂

Thank you! I’m glad you’re enjoying the Stony fics!

So sorry your Las Vegas trip was cancelled, that’s really awful. I sort of went to Vegas once (it was a layover in the airport). The only thing I remember about the whole thing was the 5 bajillion slot machines in the airport terminals

Since I know so little about Vegas, I ended up going with the getting married in Vegas trope instead of something about the casinos. I also hope you don’t mind that I used this for my bingo square, but I saw the happy ending part in your ask and got inspired for my happily ever after square (details below the cut)

Here’s to Las Vegas

The day after Steve gets married, he wakes up in a Las Vegas hotel with a ring on his finger and Tony Stark snuggled up beside him.

Most days, Steve wakes up the second his alarm goes off, alert and ready for his run. This day, however, he drifts into wakefulness slowly, comfortably lying on his back. He’s warm and there’s a heavy weight on his stomach and chest, pressing him down into sheets that feel so much nicer on his bare skin than the ones he has at home. That’s the second thing he notices: he’s not wearing any clothes, not even the boxer-briefs he normally wears in lieu of pajamas. And the third thing he notices is that there’s something soft tickling his chin.

He slowly blinks his eyes open. He’s somewhere with high vaulted ceilings and an expensive-looking chandelier, which means it’s not Tony’s place (he thinks chandeliers are tacky) and it’s definitely not Steve’s (he can’t afford a chandelier). Whatever it is on his chest shifts and Steve looks down. Tony is draped across him, the top of his head tucked under Steve’s chin, their arms and legs tangled together. He’s breathing deep and even, still asleep even though sunlight is pouring through the window.

Steve smiles at the sight and raises his head enough to kiss Tony’s curls. He doesn’t often get to wake up with Tony. Steve lives in Brooklyn and Tony lives in Manhattan and they’re both so busy—Tony with SI’s R&D and Steve with his teaching—that they decided early on in their relationship that spending every single night together was a bad idea because one of them would always end up late to work. So this makes for a nice change.

Tony stirs, inhaling deeply. Steve brings his hand up to stroke over Tony’s hair, the way he likes it when they both have a rare day when neither of them have to be anywhere so they can spend the night. That’s when he sees it.

The ring.

The one that’s sitting on the ring finger of his left hand, exactly where it should be—except he’s not supposed to be wearing it for another week.

In the sleepy haze of waking up, he’d forgotten what they’d done last night but the memories are filtering in. Flashes of Tony excitedly talking him into finding a chapel and wrangling a couple witnesses from off the street and filing the marriage license a whole week early because both of them were more than tired of the wedding planning, the swell of emotions he’d felt at hearing Tony declared his husband and sweeping Tony off his feet and back to their hotel, kissing the whole way and probably scandalizing their Uber driver.

He groans and tips his head back against the pillows. Tony makes a low sound and yawns widely before slowly opening his eyes. He looks a little like an adorable kitten and Steve can’t resist kissing the top of his head again.

“Wuzzgoinon?” Tony mumbles sleepily.

“What’s going on,” Steve says, “is that your mother is going to kill us. No, she’s going to kill me, because you’re her darling angel who can do no wrong and she’s never once thought I’m good enough for you.”

“No, you’re better,” Tony says around another yawn. “Why is my mama going to kill you?”

Steve picks up Tony’s left hand and waves it in front of his face. Tony goes cross-eyed trying to make out what’s different about his hand. “Oh,” he says eventually and lays his head back down on Steve’s chest.

“Oh?” Steve asks. “That’s it? That’s all you have to say?”

“If Mama didn’t want us to elope, she shouldn’t have sent us to Vegas by ourselves to pick up the rings,” Tony says, as though he’s pointing out something reasonable, even though this is the most absurd thing that’s ever happened in Steve’s entire life—and his best friends are Bucky and Sam. Those two are the very definition of absurd. “Everyone knows what happens in Vegas.”

“This is your fault,” Steve informs him. “If you hadn’t insisted on this particular jeweler—”

“Hmm maybe I was planning this,” Tony hums, closing his eyes again.

And that’s… that’s actually entirely possible. Ever since they got engaged, Tony has been complaining about the big white wedding Mrs. Stark wants them to have and threatening to steal Steve away to the courthouse to elope. Steve had thought he’d calmed down about the whole affair after Mrs. Stark’s tearful outburst about her just wanting her baby to have the perfect wedding (Tony is nothing if not his mama’s boy), but maybe he’d been planning on this instead. He had thought it odd when Tony had insisted on a small-name jeweler in Las Vegas who wouldn’t ship to New York, thereby forcing them to travel to pick up the rings, but if Tony had been planning this all along…

“Did you?” he asks before he can stop himself.

Tony stares up at him for a long moment, blinking. Then he dryly says, “Yes, Steve. I, who has never made a decision that wasn’t impulsive even once in my entire life, somehow managed to both plan out a trip to Vegas to get married and keep it a secret from the love of my life who knows everything I’m thinking before even I know it.”

“Well, when you put it like that,” Steve says, grinning at him. What they’ve just done hits him and he laughs giddily. He sits up, pulling Tony up with him to give him a closed-mouthed good morning kiss. “We’re married.”

Tony smiles happily and kisses him again. “Yeah, we are. Good morning, Mr. Stark-Rogers.”

He likes the sound of that. He really likes the sound of that. Another kiss. “What are we going to tell everyone?” he asks.

“Hmm. How about we got so caught up in the thrill of picking up the rings that we abandoned all reason and got married here? It’s not like the big white wedding my mama wants even really matters in the grand scheme of things. It’s the marriage license that counts.”

“She’s still going to want it.”

“Undoubtedly. And we’ll give it to her. But this is nice, isn’t it?” Tony peers up at him anxiously. “No fuss, no caterers with ten different meal plans for all the restrictions, no Great-Auntie Mildred who shouts for the minister to speak louder. No stress at all.”

Steve leans back against the headboard, thinking about it. Tony’s right. They dealt with a lot less stress by getting married this way. But it isn’t just Great-Auntie Mildred that they left behind, it’s their friends too. It’s hard to know how he feels about that.

But then he starts thinking about the wedding picture the photographer had handed them before they left the chapel last night. Steve had tucked it into his wallet for safekeeping, and he reaches over to the bedside table to grab it, pulling the photo out so he can look at it. It’s a picture of their kiss. They’re holding onto each other so tight he’s not sure a piece of paper would fit between them, smiling so broadly that it’s barely a kiss at all. And he thinks about the engagement pictures Mrs. Stark had sent out in the announcement and wedding invitations: poised and perfect and not a smile to be seen anywhere.

“Yeah,” he says eventually, pulling Tony against his chest. Tony snuggles in, warm and beautiful and all Steve’s. “This was pretty damn perfect.”

Tony sighs contentedly and presses a kiss right over Steve’s heart. “Good.”

“But your mother’s still going to kill me.”

“We just won’t tell her,” Tony replies dismissively. “We’ll get married again and we won’t have to worry about the wedding because we’ll know we’re already married.”

“She’s going to notice the rings.”

“Not if we spend the whole week here.”

Steve stills. He hadn’t thought of that. It would solve a lot of problems, not least that Mrs. Stark would finally have free reign to do whatever she wanted with the wedding without any input from either of them. She was doing anyway, but at least now, they don’t have to hear about how their small family affair has turned into the society event of the year.

Tony continues in a wheedling voice, “Call out all our friends, treat it like an extended bachelor party—or our first honeymoon, take your pick.”

Steve stops him right there with another kiss, lingering this time. “And what are we going to do on our first honeymoon?”

“Blow all our money on slot machines. Count cards at the poker table. Go see some really truly ridiculous shows,” Tony says with a shrug. “What everyone does when they’re in Vegas.”

“Hmm somehow I don’t think counting cards is what everyone does.”

“I suppose everyone didn’t grow up with Ana Jarvis,” Tony muses. Steve laughs because it’s true. Howard might think that Tony is a troublemaker all on his own, but everyone knows that Tony learned it from the best.

He’s distracted out of his thoughts by Tony picking up his hand and gently kissing his wedding ring. “It’s the first day of the rest of our lives, darling,” Tony murmurs. “We can do whatever we want.”

Details for @tonystarkbingo

Title of Fill: Here's to Las Vegas Collaborator: iam93percentstardust Card Number: 4012 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29676711 Square Filled: A3 - Free Square Ship/Main Pairing: Stevetony Rating: T Major Tags/Warnings/Triggers: Established Relationship, Fluff, Marriage Summary: The day after Steve gets married, he wakes up in a Las Vegas hotel with a ring on his finger and Tony Stark snuggled up beside him. Word Count: 1558

[seasonsofeverlark]

Thanks, Covid

Author: @hutchhitched​

Prompt: Autumn wedding [submitted by @katnissandpeeta125​]

Rating: M

Summary: A pandemic changes everything except how much Peeta and Katniss want to get married.

Author’s Note: I’ve been cautious about including the current global crisis in any of my writing, but this seemed like an opportunity to turn it on its head. I hope this bit of fluffy/angsty/slightly smutty Everlark helps us all get through another day. Much love, and stay safe! <3

____________

“That. Was. Amazing.”

Peeta Mellark’s face splits into a lazy grin as his fiancée pants next to him, attempting to recover her breath after their marathon session of athletic sex. He’d feel bad for blowing off work and spending his Friday afternoon in the bedroom, but 2020’s been a shit year. He deserves something good, and making love to Katniss Everdeen is about as wonderful as it gets.

“Thanks, Covid.”

“Covid, huh?” he responds. “Not your man who just gave you the dicking down of your life? I’m wounded.”

“Dicking down… Lord,” she snorts. “So romantic.”

“Nothing’s too good for my lady.”

She smacks him lightly on his chest with the back of her hand, too exhausted from what they’d just done to pack any punch. “What I meant was that we’d already be an old married couple if this damn pandemic hadn’t happened. We can thank the delayed wedding for the great sex of the engaged.”

“I think, sweetheart, that we’d still be in the honeymoon phase and fucking like bunnies, so maybe I want to blame the pandemic for keeping us from having more sex.”

“I would die if we were having more sex. You’re insatiable.”

Peeta rolls over and leans down to kiss her. Brushing hair back from her sweaty forehead, he kisses the tip of her nose before brushing against her lips. “I’m madly in love with you, and I can’t get enough. I can’t wait to marry you.”

Katniss responds by opening her mouth and allowing him to sweep inside. They make out for several minutes, losing themselves in wet heat and breathy confessions and bared feelings. Peeta’s considering ramping things up again when Katniss ends their kiss and tucks her face into his neck. He’s in serious need of a shower.

“Why are we waiting, anyway?”

Peeta cuddles her against his chest and kisses the top of her head. “Why are we waiting for what?”

“To get married.”

“Well, I don’t know if you remember this, but we’re in the middle of a global pandemic. Destination weddings in the Caribbean don’t really work when there’s an international travel ban.”

“Well, yeah,” she sighs. “The dream wedding might not be in the cards, but maybe just getting married. I hate not being your wife. We should be seven months married by now, and there’s no end in sight to this thing. Do you really want to keep waiting? I don’t.”

“I think that depends,” he muses.

“On?”

“On whether or not we keep getting to have this amazing sex.”

“Peeta Mellark!” she screeches. “You are the absolute worst.”

When she attempts to wriggle away from him, he tickles her sides and laughs as she squirms against him. He ends up on top of her, holding her down and marking her neck with open-mouthed kisses.

“Would I still be the worst if I said we should get married next weekend?”

She freezes and blinks at him. “Are you serious?”

“As a global pandemic.”

“You’re okay without your family being there?”

“I hear there’s this thing called Zoom now. Or facetime. Or…I don’t know. A recording of it. Whatever. I really just want to be married to you. You’re right. I’m absolutely done waiting.”

“Then yes,” she breathes. “Yes, yes, yes. I do. Forever and always and twice on Tuesday.”

They sealed the deal with another kiss (and maybe a little bit more) before they turned their attention to planning their wedding. Again.

****

Peeta shifts from foot to foot and adjusts his tie for the hundredth time. He’s nervous, which is stupid, because he loves Katniss Everdeen with every fiber of his being. They’re madly in love, almost a fairy tale story, and they’ve lived together after a respectably appropriate engagement and a long-term relationship. There is no question they’ll make it, absolutely no doubt in his mind that they have what it takes. There’s no reason to be nervous, but he’s still anxious. It’s a pretty big day.

“You ready?”

Peeta turns to Judge Undersee, the man who’ll perform the ceremony, and nods. Following him out to the space between the trees, Peeta takes off his mask and shoves it in his pocket. Katniss and Peeta will be the only two without them, but they had decided it was important to see the other’s faces when they exchanged vows. Taking his place, Peeta blinks a few times at the riot of fall colors, the leaves ruffling in the breeze and occasionally dropping to flutter in the air and settle on the ground at his feet. The Caribbean’s got nothing on this.

Soft classical music wafts from a stereo, and he holds his breath. Katniss steps into sight, her dark hair tumbling over her shoulders under intricate braids on the crown of her head. The dress, a vintage cream lace gown she’d found in a thrift shop drapes over her frame, accentuating her breasts and hips in a way that heats his insides. She strips off her masks and beams at him, and he thinks his heart might explode. She tucks it under her bouquet, a colorful bunch of autumnal flowers they bought at the floral department in the grocery store the night before and tied with a spool of orange ribbon. She’s a vision, and he’s so grateful she wants to marry him more than desiring a perfect ceremony.

He hears the murmur of comments from those on the computer screen where their family and friends are gathered to watch them pledge their lives to each other. Prim is openly weeping while his mother has a pinched look on her face. His older brother has a sign that says, “I’m the hot one,” which caused him to chuckle when he first saw it, but now his eyes won’t leave the sight of his fiancée drifting toward him.

“You look beautiful,” he breathes when she stands before him. She reaches for him with her right hand, and they chuckle over her awkwardness with the flowers. They hadn’t thought about that part when they decided to do this without her sister attending. He’ll just take them when she needs both her hands to put his ring on him. It doesn’t matter, as long as they both have gold bands when the ceremony finishes.

Judge Undersee speaks, but Peeta doesn’t hear a thing. He’s too caught up in the moment. He takes in the feel of the sun warming his shoulder as it filters through the trees, the smell of the heat of a late fall afternoon, the sound of her voice as she recites her vows, the feel of his throat clogging with emotion so that he can barely get out the words promising to bind his life to hers. They exchange rings, shifting the flowers back and forth, and then he leans in, reaching for his wife and lowering his lips to hers.

They’ve kissed a million times, but this one… This one is something special. Their first as a married couple. He deepens it, and he can hear their family and friends cheering them on as they lose themselves in each other.

“I love you so much,” he says when they break apart, his eyes blurry with moisture. “Thank you for marrying me.”

“Thank you for being someone I want to marry,” she replies softly, and he knows exactly what she means. She’d been hurt too much before he’d met her, and it had taken months before she decided to give him a chance. He’d been stubborn and eventually broken through her reluctance to open herself up to someone, and it had been worth every frustration and wound he’d experienced to get to this moment.

He dropped his forehead to hers, closing his eyes and breathing in her scent, woodsy and feminine in a way that made his skin tingle. “You sure you don’t mind missing out on all the fanfare? No cake, no toasts, no dancing, no tossing the bouquet?”

“Too late now,” she teases and shakes her head. “No, I don’t mind. I’m your wife now, and I’m over the moon you’re my husband. Besides, you make great cakes. I expect one later this week.”

They need to address their friends and family soon, but that can wait. For now, the only thing he cares about is sharing this moment with Katniss. As he leans in for another kiss, the wind blows and a shower of leaves falls around them. It’s better than rice or birdseed or bubbles or anything else because it’s theirs. Thanks to Covid.

[shleepys]

AYYYY I hope you all were safe over the holidays and continue to stay safe over these next few months! Right now my state is dealing with record high covid numbers and a bunch of snow, might be different for you guys but hey, even though we're kicking off the start of a new year we still have to be aware of what's been going on and continue to push through it. But yeah!

We can finally reveal for the @harringroveholidayexchange, so I hope you enjoy what I made for the amazing @catharrington! I don't know how everyone else is formatting theirs if they did fic and art but I'm going to put both here! 💕

- - - - -

Overlooked

prompt! - I’ve always loved the differences in the two boys while growing up, I imagine Steve having huge Christmas parties with champagne flutes and the works and Billy being invited and happy to spend time with Steve, he really is!, it’s just a lot he isn’t used to. All up to author interpretations: make as fluffy or angsty as you want ;)

summary! - Steve forgets they were supposed to hang out elsewhere while his parents threw their annual Christmas party and agrees to stay.

Luckily, Billy doesn’t mind!

The only problem is, they don’t get to hang out... and Billy starts to feel overlooked.

- - - - -

Billy couldn’t be more out of place.

Parties were his thing, don’t get that wrong. He could get drunk, smoke, fuck, do whatever and if Steve was with him, only then it was infinitely better. 

But this wasn’t a party. Not the party he knew. It felt more like a corporate gathering or a birthday for someone he didn’t know and he only ended up on the list because his boyfriend’s involved. Which wouldn’t be a problem if everyone around him wasn’t two to three times his age and he actually got to hang out with said boyfriend. 

But it’s fine. It’s been fine so far.

Crystal champagne flutes and ugly holiday sweaters just aren’t necessarily Billy’s forte. He can’t fathom how much Steve’s parents spent on this party alone and can only bet that it cost more than the monthly payment for the house on Cherry Road. Not that he has much resentment towards what Steve’s parents do with their money but it just seems… unnecessary. 

He takes a sip from his flute, rustling the jacket resting on his lap before leaning further into the sofa to try and wait this out despite already being here for what seems like hours. Billy gradually looks up again and stares into the other room where he can see Steve and his parents.

He can’t see their faces, but he can see Steve’s. Their backs are turned to him - Steve’s off to the side - they’re merely silhouettes so he can’t tell if his parents are just being gregarious or snobby. Then again, neither of them really talk about their parents so Billy has no clue.

Billy watches as a couple leaves, the discomfort continues to overrule Steve’s face as suddenly another appears and the cycle starts over again for what seems about the hundredth time. He huffs, kicking the shagged carpet beneath him before lowly cursing himself out. Should he have reminded him what they were going to do tonight? Or would Steve have rather stayed here? 

He can’t tell whether or not Steve’s just over some of the pretentious attitudes and comments he’s overheard in the past hour or that he’s trying to break the chain and get over to him so they can do something together. He could always get drunk and wait for Steve to get done, he knows where the brunette keeps a bottle of scotch that he stole from his dad’s liquor cabinet in the office. 

He blinks, lips sucked in to form a seal as he thinks. “Should I go home?” Billy whispers, soft and hurt. There’s not really a point in staying and maybe he can see if Jonathan has anything new to smoke. Deep, contemplative breath.

Billy stands up and discards his glass on the side table next to him before throwing on his coat and grabbing his scarf. Everything from then to going outside flashed by like a blur, nothing of importance really stricken in his mind other than colored sweaters and the sheen of champagne glasses hitting his eye. His breath is almost heavy as he opens the door and a wave of ice rushes over him. It bites at his nose, almost makes him want to itch it but he ventures out regardless. Billy slowly closes it behind him.

Billy sighed softly, eyes falling to the ground. It’s been snowing all day. Coming and going with the wind and dusting every road, house, and tree with freckles of white. Granted, everything was coated before it got too dark and hopefully, the roads weren’t iced over for any of the poor drunks inside. Steam rolled from his mouth as he exhaled before taking a deep breath. Billy threw the end of his scarf over his shoulder and looked out where his car should be, a somber smile passing his lips but twisting into a frown. Steve told him he could park where his family parks.

His feet felt like they were superglued to the deck, that, or like boulders had been tied to the ends of them. Billy bit his bottom lip and fidgeted with his coat pockets, sort of kicked the snow from under him.

He swallowed hastily, a lump bouncing in his throat as he looked out again. Couldn’t pinpoint the emotion to anything else but a pang of burning guilt. Maybe he should have just gone up to him, shouldn’t have made a big deal out of feeling left out, taken him away from his parents so they could go upstairs or leave.

Someone jerked open the sliding doors. Light poured from the inside, Billy twisted around to identify the backlit figure expecting a drunk only to find a breathless, seemingly worried Steve. Billy wanted to furrow his brows and walk off into the snow where he knew damn well Steve wouldn’t go into with house shoes on, but for some reason, he stayed put. Watches as Steve shuts the door behind him and rubs at his arm.

“What are you doing out here?”

Billy doesn’t respond.

Steve seems to catch on, and their eyes lock. 

There have been times when Billy goes outside during a party to catch his breath, maybe sneak around back to talk to Steve about one thing or another, maybe drunkenly make out and hope no one was watching or Tommy had their back. But they hadn’t been to a party for a long while, not since September. And, Billy doesn’t just bring his car keys with him to ‘catch his breath’.

Billy broke contact with a sharp ‘huh’. “Did you forget about me?"

“What? No! Why would you think that?” Steve shuddered, pulling his hands into his sleeves.

Billy looked back up with dagger-like eyes, “Because it seems an awfully lot like you did.”

“Well, I didn’t.”

He could bite back, the very opportunity hanging in front of his nose. But he didn’t. Instead, a familiar quiver caught his lip. Lingering feelings creeping up and forcing his hand to itch at his pocket. Billy shook his head, eyes falling to the ground. 

Steve frowned, aware of the events to follow. He’s known the other long enough to recognize the outline of Marlboros in any pocket. Deep down wishes there was some other habit Billy bid in, but that’s a matter of discussion that needs to be saved for later.

Eventually, the pack came out. Steve chewed on the inside of his cheek as he watched Billy, his lighter flaring until the end emitted a pale red before shakily tucking it away. He shook his head again slow and somber like. 

“I’m sorry.” Billy started, hands moving along with his words. “And it’s not that I don’t want to be here. You’re just,” he sighed, “busy.”

Steve’s lips sealed tightly at the comment. He saw the discomfort present in the other’s sentences, could feel guilt churn in the pit of his stomach. Thing is Steve wasn’t the slightest bit spiteful, he was pissed at himself for not taking action to check up on the other. Not considering bringing another friend with them in case something like this happened. He’s upset because they were supposed to do something together tonight besides this but he forgot and agreed to be here. Steve watched him take a drag, self-spite running through his veins. 

The corners of Steve’s eyes pinched, his throat tightening as he spoke, “No, I’m sorry! This sucks, this whole thing has sucked. I stressed myself out over decorating for the party and was so excited to hang out! I didn’t mean to agree but I forgot! And mom and dad keep introducing me to people. I- I wanted to spend time with you! I didn’t want to be here!” Steve took a step forward before shaky inhale. “This is my fault, this shouldn’t have happened.”

The next few seconds were the two boys staring at one another, each waiting on the other to say something. Billy was at a loss. Steve had a million thoughts streaming through his mind, hoping that the blonde wouldn’t just turn away and leave. 

Eventually, Billy glanced at the door, peering through to check if the blinds were shut as a faint smile appeared. Billy’s lips pressed against Steve’s before he could protest, his hand meeting to cup the brunette’s jaw and brush over the apple of his cheek with his calloused thumb and cigarette in the other. Steve’s tears wetted his cheeks, he didn’t mind it all that much. The shock melted into comfort as Steve cherished the kiss, pouted when Billy slowly pulled away from him. The slight tinge of champagne lingering on the other’s lips, the heat of their bodies giving them a little warmth.

Billy craned his head - albeit Steve was taller - until their foreheads met. 

“Don’t apologize. I get it.” Billy whispered. Steve gave a small, dismissive ‘huff’.

“My boyfriend should come before a stupid party. I should have told them otherwise.” 

Billy shook his head. “The party’s nice. You beat yourself up too much over this kind of stuff, I forget things too. Remember the creek?” 

Steve giggled, lips twisting into a smile. “In July when you were supposed to meet me there and didn’t show up? And I stayed there all night?”

Billy frowned as he thought into it, the bitter call at one in the morning that turned into a week of not talking to one another. It ended nicely though - if ‘nice’ was drunk car sex in the middle of the woods. There wasn’t much of an apology there but hey, they’re still trying to work on things and figure out how exactly relationships work because they aren’t exactly a sixty-year-old couple with forty years of experience behind the boy’s backs.

“I still owe you for that. Sorry.” His eyes fell to the deck as he pulled his head away, bumping his cigarette against his finger and watching the ash fall.

After Steve noticed the shift he got quiet, frowned, and eyes followed Billy’s to the wooden boards below. “Don’t apologize,” Steve echoed with a light smile. Gently Steve grabbed Billy’s scarf and drew him in for a slower, deeper kiss. 

People forget things, that’s human nature. And sometimes they can be a bit dumb about it too. But this was going to be the boy’s first Christmas, granted it wasn’t exactly Christmas yet, but it was important to them both. Spending time with a significant other on a holiday was amazing even if they can’t shout it out to everyone they know. 

These moments always have a sort of energy to them. When the boys share a wordless amalgamation of self-deprecating thoughts after ‘messing something up’ and those little habits come out to bite to express those thoughts oh so clearly.  It’s a ball of weird energy that shines in self-hate that the two have been working to eliminate and hey, they’ve gotten pretty far! But, it’s still there. Smiling in the corner of the boy’s minds. Ready to strike at any moment. It’s just a lot smaller now. 

Because again, don’t have the forty years and that’s perfectly valid even if the two don’t seem to realize it.

Billy leaned into the sweet kiss before Steve drew back. Billy chuckled and wrapped his arms around the other as he tucked his face into Steve’s neck. Steve shook again, this time cuddling up to the other and ravishing in the heat and short breaths coming out of them both.

“I wanna go inside,” Steve mumbled, rubbing at the other’s back.

Billy laughed and slowly pulled away to look at Steve. “Too cold?” 

“I’m in a sweater and sweatpants,” Steve pulled on his scarf again and toyed with the frayed ends. The grin Billy responded with brimmed with bliss, his hand roaming up and held the other’s with a firm hold,

“I’ll meet you inside.”

Steve had ventured back into the party while Billy snuffed his cigarette into the deck, eventually, the two found one another next to the food Steve’s parents had catered instead of cooking this year. Only thing that wasn’t in foil baking trays was the Christmas cookies that Billy had been dying to try ever since Steve brought them up at the beginning of December. Drinks clattered in group cheers from the surrounding areas, the smooth music now bearable. He never expected that a party this foreign to him would turn out for the better. Never thought he would feel… like a part of it? The crystal flutes, richies, and overall appeal still don’t rock with him, but with Steve, he has someone there for him. And that’s all Billy could ever ask for.

Thankfully, he didn’t feel like he was going to projectile vomit champagne anymore… the nausea sort of faded after Steve kissed him outside. Billy turned to Steve, noting the rosy shade still dancing on the apples of his cheeks from outside.

“Your sweater isn’t that ugly,” Billy emphasized, chewing on an ornament-shaped cookie.

Steve shook his head with an amused sigh, sweeping the crumbs from his shirt. “This isn’t that kind of party, if it was I would’ve had you help me make one.”

“Are you sure? Because I don’t think Karen from Fiance got the memo.” Billy pointed into the crowd at the woman in question. Her sweater took the cake for one of the ugliest, tensile hangs from her torso, lights strung all over, buttons on the brink of falling off. “You think she beats her kids over the head with a bible?” Steve rolled his eyes. Billy smirked at the little glare he’d received. “You should have pulled out your grandmother’s cat vests.” 

Steve gagged, eyes wide and ridden with disgust. “Keep talking and you’re going to make me throw up. I never want to see those again.” Billy snorts and Steve shoves him with a laugh, “It’s not funny!”

“But you’re laughing!” Billy remarks and lightly bumps him back returning the bubbling laughter.

A woman seems to overhear their laughs and spins around with the biggest and brightest grin Billy’s ever seen. It kind of startled him. Doesn’t know who she is, doesn’t care to know until he recognizes the cat vest and how familiar those brown, round doe eyes are. She runs up to them, curls bouncing on her shoulders as she approaches with a drink in hand. Mrs. Harrington gasped, grabbing onto Steve’s sweater with eyes darting between both boys, “Is this Billy?”

Steve smirks and rolls his eyes again. “Hi, Mom. I’m back Mom.” She lightly wacks him in the arm. “Yes! This is Billy.”

Her eyes lit up, dazzled with happiness as she stuck her attention on the blonde as he snuck another cookie in his mouth. “Steve talks about you all the time!”

“What? No, I don’t!” Steve’s eyebrows knit together as he tried to defend himself but deep down knew there was no hope, especially after Billy gave him that smug but appreciative little look as his mom went on her story-telling rampage. 

Billy laughs, almost in disbelief, “Really?”

“He talks about all of his friends, really. But, oh! When it comes to you he goes on and on and on, he really thinks you’re something.” Billy watched as the tips of Steve’s ears tinted themselves red and smirked. An interesting conversation for later. “I’m so upset that I haven’t been able to meet you until now! You two are always out or asleep by the time I get home.”

Billy’s brows quirked in an expression of sarcasm. “Well, thank you for not waking me up at two in the morning to introduce yourself.”

Mrs. Harrington chuckled, shaking her head before putting her hand on Steve’s shoulder. “I’m going to go get another drink. Oh, and Billy!” She paused and made eye contact, “If you want to come over for Christmas, you’re more than welcome too! Just tell Steve so I know.”

Billy’s brows flew upwards, blush rising and Steve picking it up instantly. She waved goodbye before walking around them and going off on her journey into another room. The boys stared again, each waiting on the other to say something until the brunette spoke up.

"She likes you," Steve muttered, ears still red as ever.

"You talk about me to her? I think that's cute."

He huffed. Had to stop himself from leaning against the other to hide his face. "Mom likes knowing what friends are up to."

Billy loosely smiled, slowly bumping into Steve with his hip before getting a light bump back. “You look a lot like her.” Steve shook his head.

“Not as much as my dad,” Steve turned to see if he was there and frowned when he didn’t see the other but slowly faded into a smile. “I don’t know where he is, he would have loved to meet you.”

The boys got quiet again.

Billy cleared his throat, his head tilted down as if to duck away to hide his blush and the movement didn’t go unnoticed by Steve. “About coming over for Christmas-” 

“I want you to.” He softly tugged on his jacket to get his attention. Eventually, Billy made eye contact, grinned with a chuckle following behind. Christmas with Steve? His caring boyfriend, twenty million cookies, a few possible presents, and… some loving parents? 

Billy couldn’t be happier.

[eddsworldwritingrequests]

Hia Could you please make a story with Jon and Edoardo. Edoardo keeps making fun of jon and Jon hates it, especially because he loves Edoardo so much? :3

(May 1st, 1:32 am is when I posted the last story I did. I... I apologize so much. It’s been a while, a lot of things have happened, and I opened up an ew ask blog on here with my gf so, dear lord, I can’t believe it’s been that long. I caught Covid at one point and I’ve been in and out of travelling these past few months, its crazy tbh but I am partially back! 

I’ll try to get through all my requests because I have a couple right now, so sorry if you gave me an ask after seeing my TordEdd response, it’ll take a moment to get yours probably, but YES, thank you so very much!!! The responses I got on that EddTord story was so heartwarming and people come and like it every now and then, it makes my heart jump every single time. Thank you so so much. I appreciate it <3 Hope you like this and, again, I’m sorry for such the long wait.))

------

Jon tapped his fingers across the table, eyes trained on the brunet. The kitchen was quiet, as it usually was, but it was different this time. A silence that made Jon’s nerves tingle a bit, the boy humming out a tune that echoed lightly across the air. 

Eduardo was making his coffee. Almost black, with two packets of sugar and no milk to go along with it. He never got it with milk, almost never Jon had noticed. The smallest of the two sat there, watching the brunet as if it was routine. His eyes gazed at the other’s movements, almost like he knew them by heart, a swing of the arm to reach over and grab the sugar, the quick wipe at his face to rid any tiredness from it. Not that he could get rid of the tiredness, Eduardo’s eyes always had bags under them, no matter the amount of sleep he got.

Jon didn’t know what it could be. He didn’t understand why he felt so different today, something creeping along his spine, as if something was going to go wrong. He rarely got these feelings, but when he did, they usually led to nothing. Usually led to a dead end and an uneventful day.

He kept watching Eduardo, even though the other could obviously sense him. He knew he was being watched, but the darker haired man didn’t look over. Not yet at least. He opened a drawer, grabbing a spoon before closing it with his hip. The clink of metal hitting his mug could be heard, the Mexican slowly mixing his coffee.

Jon never knew what was happening in his head. He always tried to guess what Eduardo was thinking, always wondered what he thought about and if he pondered on certain things. Jon didn’t understand what led him to do certain things, but he could try to. Everything from Eduardo’s perspective was entirely different from his own, but Jon still didn’t understand. Couldn’t comprehend why the other was just... the way he was. Jon didn’t understand him usually, and today wasn’t any different.

He hoped today would be fine. Like how the two were right now, alone in the kitchen, the silence lingering in the air besides the few birds that chirped beside their windows. Things were okay, and no matter how much he wanted to spark up a conversation, Jon was okay with being silent too.

He was always too nervous to speak, to try and start a little chat with the other. Of course they spoke with one another, it’d be hard not to when you’re roommates, but Jon wasn’t as close to him as he’d like to be. There was just this distance between them that the shorter man couldn’t quite close. 

Jon was quiet, not knowing whether the other would respond to a comment he made. Eduardo seemed too distracted to notice Jon, or maybe he did notice him but deemed it unimportant. Deemed Jon unimportant. Which wasn’t the worst thing ever, it’s not like Eduardo did it on purpose. He was just always in his own little world. The Mexican seemed to zone out constantly, more than the other two did. He would sit on the couch, reading a book, and all he would do was stare. Forget that he was reading and just stare off. You could tell that he was thinking, running through his mind constantly. He seemed to have whole conversations with himself that nobody could hear, stuck in a world where all he did was debate problems and consider possibilities if he were to change. If he were just a bit nicer.

Well, that’s what Jon thinks. What he thinks Eduardo thinks. 

Jon didn’t mind the silence, not at all, but sometimes he preferred to talk with him. Maybe a soft conversation between them that lasted a few minutes, the two speaking until Mark decided to wake up and ruin it. Maybe they could have a moment, one of those scenes in movies where all they do is hang out and nothing else. Just enjoy the other person’s company. He wished they had moments, memories shared with Eduardo, silly ones where they joke around and laugh. Like how they were back in high-school. When Mark was the prissy popular kid who just happened to befriend the shy kid and the quiet angry one.

Eduardo used to have school shooter vibes. An angry look and a loose flannel shirt. Bags under his eyes that showed his fatigue, but a spark in his gaze that showed he would beat somebody up if they even touched him. Of course, Eduardo was never like that, he was the sweetest boy a teacher could ask for, but Jon and Mark used to joke about that. He wondered if the other ever noticed it himself.

Jon perked up at the sound of Eduardo clearing his throat, eyes quickly coming back into focus on the brunet. A guttural noise came from the taller one’s throat, settling his cough as he glanced over at Jon. The two locked eyes for a moment, not a word said between them before Eduardo looked away again. His cup was now in his hands, rough fingers gripping the ceramic mug. He couldn’t seem to follow anything after his noise, but it was obvious that he wanted to say something.

Jon blinked, waiting for a question or a demand. Wondering if that meant that Jon should start something and Eduardo would follow. Maybe it was a quiet way of telling him to get out. He didn’t know, confused on what to make of that, eyes set on the other. He watched as the brunet turned slightly, catching the other’s eye once again before blinking down at his coffee. 

Eduardo hesitated, the man’s lips parting in the slightest. There was a sharp intake of air, the choked sound of the beginning of a sentence escaped him. It was quiet, but Jon felt like he could hear it loud and clear. 

“So...” Eduardo huffed, staring down at his coffee before looking over at the table. His brown eyes matched the wooden surface, using the piece of furniture as an excuse to not look anywhere else. “How’d you sleep?”

Jon blinked again, shifting in his seat as he processed the question. He didn’t know how to respond, didn’t know if he should. Well, a question was a question, right? “Uhm... I don’t, uh... Good, I guess. I slept-- it was good.”

Way to go, Jon.

The other raised a brow, the corner of his lips quirking up in the slightest. He smiled a bit, hiding the action behind his cup as he brought it up. He took a small sip from it, hiding Jon from his view for just a moment. 

“Okay,” he responded, letting his hands hover over his stomach. Eduardo stood there, teetering slightly, a hand coming up to scratch his beard. He didn’t know what else to say. Didn’t know if he should leave it at that. “Uhm...so--”

“How was your sleep?”

Eduardo turned over, eyes locking with wide black ones. He watched as Jon waited for an answer, his hands hidden from sight, no doubt fiddling with his fingers. He always did that when he was nervous. Eduardo saw him do it every time he got too close.

“Oh. Mine was--”

“GOOD MORNING!!!”

The two jumped at the new voice, the entrance loud. Eduardo turned quickly, looking at the blond who was making his way in, arms stretching into the air. The brunet let a wry smile come to his face, shifting completely away from Jon.

The smallest of the group frowned, looking over to Mark. “Way to be loud about it.”

“Oh, shut it, Jon. You’re just mad because I can actually be loud without feeling self-conscious.”

Jon rolled his eyes, not catching the way the blond winked at him. He stared at the table, elbows coming to settle on it. The sound of steps coming over to him made him go quiet, listening to the way the chair across from him scraped open. Someone sat down. Jon glanced up.

It was Mark.

“I’m surprised you’re up.” Jon mumbled, voice low as he spoke to the blond. He ignored the feeling of eyes settling on him, knowing Eduardo was watching them talk. Jon swore he could feel his heart thump a little faster. “You usually don’t get up at... what time is it, 10?”

“10:34 to be exact. I call it a new record.”

Jon shook his head, eyes flickering up again as Mark moved. He watched the lanky man get back up and step his way past Eduardo, grabbing some milk and a bowl. He reached for a box of cereal, but Jon didn’t bother to watch for too long. His eyes were already inching their way back to the other.

He found himself looking at Eduardo again, and for a split second, he could’ve sworn the other was looking at him as well. Jon had caught him staring, Eduardo knew that, but he brushed it off anyway. Cleared his throat again before he spoke.

“So,” he started again. The brunet took another sip of his coffee, eyes turned away from the way Jon perked up again. The little one seemed to sit a bit straighter. The two were talking, clearly this was a question for Jon. Right? “Where were you last night, Mark? I don’t think I heard you come home before I fell asleep.”

Jon opened his mouth, going to respond before pausing. He turned to the blond, eyes wide as he watched said man sit back down with his cereal.

“At a bar,” he replied, shrugging a bit. He let a spoonful enter his mouth, chewing before he caught Jon’s stare. He could tell that the other was trying to give him some look, but he couldn’t comprehend what.

Eduardo pursed his lips. “When did you come home?”

“I don’t know, like 3? The ones around here close at 2, so I just got a milkshake and made my way home.” The blond turned around at him, giving him a look. “Why are you so curious, are you my mom or something?”

Eduardo huffed, turning away. He let himself fall quiet, sipping the rest of his coffee. Mark had turned back around, but Jon was still glancing in between them, waiting for the conversation to continue. But it didn’t. It ended there, and for just a moment, the three men felt the silence. Felt how much they’d grown apart.

Eduardo stayed in his room a lot. You could argue that he was closer to Mark than with Jon, but he was pretty distant from the two. Just stayed in his room, painting away. Mark would talk, but he wasn’t really home a lot. If he was, he mostly just spoke until the others got fed up with him. And Jon, well, he wasn’t exactly the best person to deal with. He’d listen to Mark rant and respond with his own comments, but he was positive that the other just got annoyed with him. And Eduardo, well, they didn’t speak a lot. When they did, it was usually just the other asking Jon to take out the trash or something. Or he’d send him a wave and leave.

Jon tried to avoid him when he got mad. Overall, that was pretty much it.

“Well, what about you two?” Mark questioned, glancing at his friends. He watched Eduardo hide his face in his cup, covering the light frown that had appeared across his features. Jon didn’t look too better either, just quietly staring down at the table top again. “Did you two do anything while I was gone?”

“Uhm--”

“Nope.” Eduardo interrupted, placing his coffee down onto the counter, fingers still hooked onto the holder. “You know Jon can’t hold a conversation for the life of him.”

Jon went quiet, the sound of his name catching his attention. He stared at Eduardo, eyes still wide. Eduardo had yet to look at him. He didn’t even glance his way.

Mark gave a short laugh, but he eyed Jon carefully. Another spoonful went into his mouth, watching the shorter man in front of him, but Jon wouldn’t turn. His eyes were still trained on Eduardo. “Come on, Eduardo. Jon can hold some conversation.”

“Not unless it’s about something stupid. He goes on and on about stuff that doesn’t even make sense.” Eduardo looked away, picking his cup back up. He let his gaze fall into the contents of the mug, watching the coffee swish around. He stood there, lips pursed together for a moment before he spoke again. “I can’t talk to him without getting a migraine.”

Jon frowned, brows knitting together. “I’m... I’m right here, guys.”

He could’ve sworn he saw the look on Eduardo’s face shift. Maybe his eyes were playing with him, but the other looked almost uncomfortable, like he didn’t want to be talking in this conversation, like he started something he shouldn’t have. Before Jon could think too much into it, however, the mug was covering his face once again.

He kept staring. Jon ignored the way Mark was trying to silently get his attention, the blond dropping his spoon into his bowl and just sitting there. The shorter one didn’t pay attention. He just watched Eduardo until the brunet eventually turned.

He glanced at him. For yet another moment, they locked eyes. Like before, black met brown, a quietness floating in between them for a mere second before Eduardo was turning away again. He was always the first to turn away. “Well, you know I’m right, Jon.”

The boy frowned again, lips pulling down as he sat there. He didn’t say anything more, just holding his lips together and narrowing his eyes at nothing. He listened to Eduardo speak about him, listened to the other talk as though he wasn’t there. That was the worst part, really. How the other knew Jon was there and spoke about him anyway, knowing for a fact that the little one wouldn’t interrupt. It made Jon antsy, a heavy feeling growing in his chest.

He slowly looked away, words getting caught in his throat. Mark noticed this, eyes narrowing before he intervened. 

“Alright, Eduardo. I think he gets it.” He muttered, turning back to shoot a look. It was obvious that he was trying to get him to quiet down, the way his face morphed into an expression that clearly said “shut up”.

Eduardo didn’t get the message. Or, well, he didn’t listen.

“Come on, Mark. He can’t even speak without stuttering, let alone look me in the eye when I’m talking to him.” A breathless laugh came from the brunet, motioning towards Jon but not turning. He didn’t look comfortable, but he kept going, as though he wanted to get everything out. To mutter out his thoughts before leaving. “He can’t say anything right now, I could keep going and he wouldn’t stop me.”

Jon kept his fingers jammed between his legs, trying to stop them from fidgeting. He didn’t look up.

“He’s a damn pushover.”

“Eduardo, that’s enough--”

“Isn’t that right, Jon?”

The shortest in the group froze, hearing footsteps creak against the floor. They came closer, pausing right in front of the table, beside Mark. Jon couldn’t help but press himself to the back of the chair, eyes wide and trained onto the table. He tried his best to look natural, fingers fidgeting underneath the surface, out of view. They pressed together, even while squished in between his legs, Jon let them tap together. He could feel his eyes drying, the man blinking a couple times to try and get rid of the feeling. 

Eduardo was right. Of course he was right, what was happening right now proved it. It still hurt, though. It stung to listen to him, to hear Eduardo talk about him in such a demeaning way, not even about him but to him as well. He couldn’t look up at him. Couldn’t show Eduardo that he was nervous.

Jon’s eyes flickered up the table, staring at the mug that clicked against the wooden top. He stared at it, watching those fingers tap along the side of it, knowing those fingers were Eduardo’s. He was standing right in front of him, and the little one couldn’t even look up.

“Jon,” he mumbled, trying to grab the boy’s attention. Eduardo pursed his lips after a second of silence. He didn’t know if he should stop or not, but he had a point to prove. He had already gone so far already anyway. “Are you gonna say anything?”

Jon didn’t. He felt his sadness scurry up his heart, making its way there and settling down. The pull at his lips made him furrow his brows, trying to prevent the automatic frown that begged to show. He had to lightly cover his mouth, just to not show that he was growing upset by the other’s words. It wasn’t working, but it was a pathetic attempt that just showed he was panicking. Teeth clenching together, he could practically feel Eduardo’s eyes boring into him. It was an insufferable feeling.

The silence went on for ages. It felt like years until another noise sounded, Jon blinking his way back into the moment. A scrape of a chair and footsteps were heard, the little one finally looking up a bit.

Mark was standing between Eduardo and the table, mug having been left behind the blond.

“I think that’s enough for today, Eduardo.” Mark mumbled, eyeing the other. He narrowed his gaze, sending a warning to the other. Showing the brunet that he had proved his point already.

Eduardo stared at him, Mark not letting his gaze break apart. The two stood there for a moment, not another word said until the Mexican finally swallowed his pride. He scoffed, leaving his coffee on the table.

“See?” He started again, making his way to the exit. He took a small glance at Jon, who hadn’t looked up at him. A part of Eduardo knew that the other was probably going to think about this again. Later on, when alone. “What did I tell you.”

And with that, he left.

Mark stood there, a glare set on where Eduardo just was. He hated when the other got like that, moments sparking up so quickly that he had no clue what even started it. The blond just watched the space that Eduardo was standing at just a moment before. Another minute of the usual silence came around before he finally turned to Jon, Mark noticing the other still sitting in his place. 

The little one was still, which was unusual. There was no doubt that he was thinking about what the other had said.

“Hey.” Mark whispered, grabbing the other’s attention. Jon’s gaze looked upset, but he still gave the blond a light smile in response.”Don’t think about it. Come on, I rented a movie, why don’t you watch it with me?”

Jon blinked down at Mark’s hands, the blond having offered him one so he could lead him to the living room. He didn’t take it. Not yet, at least.

He was busy thinking over Eduardo’s words, his tone and the way he made the effort to walk over and make fun of Jon to his face. All he did was sit there, sit in their house, a place where Jon thought was safe. All he did was sit there, and suddenly he was getting bombarded with insults, suddenly being called out when just a minute ago, that same man was ready to make light conversation with him. Who asked him a question in the softest voice Jon had ever heard.

His heart swelled, like a hand was closing over it. He didn’t know what to feel. He didn’t know if he should even be thinking about it, but...

“Okay.” He said, looking up to Mark again. Jon scooted back, getting up from his chair before following the other away. “I guess a movie would be okay.”

[purplesurveys]

1141

survey by lets-make-surveys

1 - Do you have a favourite day of the week? What is it about that day that you like so much? I feel like I just answered this recently, but let’s go with Friday again. Always nice to fade out after work and to finally close all my work tabs and chats, and not feel obligated to reply to anyone for a couple of days.

2 - Would you describe yourself as a sociable person or not? I’m not the most sociable person, like I don’t always have the energy to be at the maximum level of perky, but I am to an extent. I no longer find it difficult to approach people and strike up a conversation.

3 - Who was the last person you spoke to out-loud? What did you speak to them about? My mom. My former director, Ysa, sent me a scented candle earlier tonight - as a parting gift since she got promoted and got reassigned to my employer’s sister company - and I just asked my mom to light the candle up because I’m scared of matches and fire.

4 - Do you prefer tea or coffee? Coffee; I never drink tea.

5 - What's your ideal weather? When was the last time you had that kind of weather where you live? Any kind of weather where the temperature is anywhere below 25ºC (which is already considered quite chilly here) is fine with me.

6 - Who was the last person (apart from family) that you spent time with? What did you get up to? Does virtual count? I had a Jeopardy night on Zoom with my orgmates a couple of weeks ago. I might miss out on a couple of people, but I was with Peter, Elis, Andi, Carmel, Robin, Laurice, and Mik. Apart from that, my uncle treated me, my kuya, and my cousin Luke to lunch the morning after said Zoom call.

7 - If you have pets, when was the last time one of them got on your nerves? Oh my god, just this afternoon. I was in a Zoom call with a client and besides our PR agency, there was another marketing agency in the call who was also pitching their presentation deck. The entire call was pure bliss on my end, no one was making noise at home – the second it came to my speaking parts, Cooper started howling and barking like crazy because idk, maybe he saw an animal outside or something?? In any case it suddenly got very loud and I got caught off-guard, and I ended up stuttering several times as I was trying to focus.

8 - Do you have to wear a uniform at work or school? If not, what do you tend to wear? The only time I had to wear a legit uniform was in private school, which I attended from preschool to high school. We do have business casual dress code at work, but that in itself is pretty flexible so I don’t really count it as a ‘uniform.’

9 - Would you rather live in a house with a swimming pool or an indoor cinema? Indoor cinema. I watch a lot of things that I’d love to be able to view with a much bigger screen - plus it’s a lot easier to maintain than a pool, lol.

10 - When was the last time you were at the beach? August 2019 :(

11 - Do you own a credit card? If so, do you currently owe any money on it? Could you afford to pay it off tomorrow if necessary? No. My parents also advise against getting my own credit card since I could pick up some bad spending habits from it, according to them. That sounds scary enough so I’m ok with my debit card.

12 - What do you tend to wear to sleep in? Does this vary depending on the time of year? Usually something light, short, and airy since I live in a tropical country that never gets to enjoy temperatures lower than like 23ºC.

13 - What do you tend to have for breakfast, if you eat it? Fried rice, hotdogs, and bacon strips are filling enough for me.

14 - If someone offered to cook you a three-course-meal of your choosing, no budget - what would you have? Oysters, filet mignon, and macarons.

15 - How many hours of sleep do you typically get each night? Is that enough to function or would you rather have more? Anywhere between 7–9 during weekdays, and like 3–4 during weekends because revenge bedtime procrastination is real. Yeah, I’d say it’s enough on both ends.

16 - Does your house have a loft/basement? Are they functional or do you just use them for storage? We have neither.

17 - When was the last time you did a load of laundry? Do you need to do some in the near future? I don’t do the laundry at home.

18 - Are you addicted to anything legal? What about illegal? I guess vaping? I’m a lot more reliant on it now versus the past few months, and I get a little restless whenever I have to charge it for an hour or so. 

19 - Do you suffer from road rage? What kind of thing tends to set you off or wind you up while driving? A little bit, but I obviously haven’t had to express it in a while because of my much-lessened time on the road due to Covid. Standstill traffic is the biggest factor, but standstill traffic + stupid drivers who are impatient and end up not following the road lanes is the quickest way to irritate me and set me off.

20 - What kind of animal did you last see in the wild? Is that a common sight where you live? I have no idea, and that’s precisely because I live in the suburbs in a city which would not make them a common sight.

21 - How is your hair styled at the moment? Low side ponytail.

22 - Do you post a lot on social media? If so, what kind of thing do you tend to post on there? Not as much as I used to. I’ll probably post 5–7 tweets (versus the 50+ I’d post when I was younger) and share like 1–3 Facebook posts a day. I could talk about pretty much everything on Twitter since that’s my main dump - be it rants, my feelings, what I ate, the latest dumb thing Cooper did, etc. On Facebook I mostly share memes, at least family-friendly ones that wouldn’t alert my relatives lol.

23 - What are you watching/listening to at the moment? Nothing for either. I can hear some birds chirping outside since it’s finally getting brighter again, but that’s it.

24 - If you have multiple pets, do they all get along with each other or are there sometimes fights/scuffles? Cooper has actually finally settled down a bit so I’m starting to feel more comfortable letting him out with Kimi in the same room/floor. He understands that Kimi doesn’t like being disturbed so even though he’s in the mood to run around and be energetic and play catch or whatever, he always takes the time to tip-toe around Kimi. They’re not best buds by any means, but it’s enough to leave them be and not worry about a fight breaking out anymore. Sweet boys.

25 - What are some habits you have in common with your parents? My dad excessively blinks when he’s feeling tense or in an argument; I ended up picking that up from him. With my mom, it’s mostly phrases or expressions that she likes to use.

26 - Where's your favourite place to swim - the ocean, a pool, river, lake etc? Beaches.

27 - When you're saving your place in a book, do you use a bookmark or fold your pages down? Or something else? I either remember the page number or do a tiny dog-ear. Bookmarks aren’t the right match for me lol, I’ll most likely end up losing them.

28 - What's your favourite kind of cereal? Sweeter ones.

29 - Is any part of your body hurting at the moment? Is there a specific incident that caused the pain? Yeah, my neck had actually been seriously stiff during my last shift and I couldn’t move my head unless I moved my entire body along with it. It’s died down now but I can definitely still feel the strain. My left shoulder in particular feels very strained at the moment and I’m feeling a considerable level of discomfort from it as I take this.

30 - What was the last thing to make you laugh out loud? 2 Days 1 Night, the usual. The Korean style of video editing is phenomenal and can literally make anything funny.

[sunflower-swan]

Wolfstar Chapter 20

A/N: Here’s what you need to know: I created this story for Writer’s Month 2020. Every day is a new prompt, and therefore a new chapter. This is an AU Wolfstar where Remus is a tattoo artist next door to Sirius who manages a flower shop. James and Lily are alive in this universe and own a coffee shop across the street. And to make parts of the story work with the prompts, Remus is about 10 years older than Sirius. It also takes place more or less in present time, minus Covid-19.

This is chapter 20 of a multi-chapter work. If you’d like to start from the beginning, here is chapter 1.

Disclaimer: I don’t own these characters. I just like to play with them.

Day 20 Prompt: Loss

Rating: Teen and Up

Word Count: 1297

Tags: babysitting, fluff, pet name, old scars, language

Chapter 20

Sirius

Simon & Garfunkel, “At the Zoo”

The monkeys stand for honesty

Giraffes are insincere

And the elephants are kindly but they're dumb

Orangutans are skeptical

Of changes in their cages

And the zookeeper is very fond of rum 

The man who opened the door looked like Remus, but like...a Remus who wasn’t done yet. There were no silver strands peppering the sandy blonde. No crinkle in the corners of his eyes. His arms were inkless and criss-crossed with scars. Sirius sniffed...he smelled like Remus. The comforting scent of old books and chocolate grounded Sirius, but he still wondered, What the hell is going on here?

“Eh-- uh-- erm…” Sirius stammered. 

Not-done-yet-Remus leaned against the doorframe. “Hey,” he said with a mischievous grin.

Sirius lifted his hand and poked the sort-of-stranger in the chest. He was real, Sirius wasn’t hallucinating. “Remus?”

“Yes?” His lashes fluttered.

“What…” Sirius looked Remus up and down, not believing his own eyes. “What did you do?”

Remus shrugged. “Oh...eating right, getting enough sleep...the usual.”

“No...but really,” Sirius took a step closer. He ran his fingertips across Remus' scarred collarbone that showed above his collar, and down his scarred arm. What have you done, Remus? Confused, he said, “You look…”

“How do I look?” Remus whispered.

“Different.”

“Different good or,” Remus forehead creased, “different bad?”

“Just...different.” Sirius looked up into Remus' face. “How did this happen?”

“Ok, fine.” Remus rolled his eyes. “I...might have...taken a teeny --” he rubbed the corner of his eye, “-- de-aging potion.”

Sirius took a step back and looked Remus over again. De-aging potion? That would explain the how, but it didn’t explain the… “Why?”

“You don’t like it?”

“Oh, Remus.” He shook his head and laughed. “I liked you just the way you were. Please, tell me this,” he gestured, “is not permanent.”

“It’s not permanent.”

“Thank goodness.” Sirius slid past Remus and marched up to the flat.

Remus shut and warded the door. “You have until 9 P.M. to enjoy twenty-five year old me,” he called.

Sirius reached the living room and collapsed on the couch. He tilted his head back and stared at the ceiling. Good grief. What in Merlin’s name was Remus thinking? This will be a weird damn day.

Remus appeared in the doorway, and then settled onto the couch next to Sirius. He crossed his legs, and leaned his head on Sirius’ shoulder.

“I’m sorry if I freaked you out,” Remus said. “I thought it would be funny. But now I’m stuck like this --” he held his arms out, “-- all day.” 

Sirius reached out and traced three fingers along three dark, parallel scars that ran diagonal across Remus’ forearm and ended near his elbow. He felt Remus' body stiffen next to him.

“Sorry,” Sirius whispered. He withdrew his hand and leaned the side of his head against the top of Remus’ head which was still on his shoulder.

Remus lowered his arms to his lap. “It’s ok. There’s a reason I spent the time and money to cover them.”

He hoped it wasn’t too personal of a question when he asked, “How did you get them?”

“Me. Well...werewolf me.” Remus sighed. “It’s not so bad now with the Wolfsbane Potion. But before…” He shuddered. 

A sudden RAP-TAP-TAP came from the kitchen window. They both jumped and gasped. Remus stood to let the small owl in. It swept in, landed on Sirius' lap, and stared at him until he removed the scroll from it’s leg. Then it gave a small hoot and flew back out the open window.

“Who’s it from?” Remus closed the window and walked back to the living room.

“James and Lily. Want to babysit Harry with me?”

~~~~~

One of the perks of being a Godfather, was spur of the moment babysitting duties. Sirius and Remus apparated to James & Lily’s house to take Harry off their hands for the afternoon. Lily had, in James’ opinion, made the colossal mistake of inviting her sister’s family to dinner that evening. Which meant Lily was beside herself wanting everything to go well. Her family tended to bring out her crazy a little bit. Not that her friends would ever tell her for fear of being hexed into oblivion. With Harry out of their hair for a few hours, James could calm Lily down and also help her with preparations.

After fielding questions about Remus’ appearance, James packed them a small backpack. He filled it with Harry’s favorite snacks, a bottle of water, a few small toys, sunscreen and a change of clothes. Then he plopped a bright yellow ball cap on Harry’s head, strapped the bag to his back, and pushed the three of them out the door with a hurried, “Thanks! Good luck!”

Sirius held Harry’s hand as they walked down the sidewalk.

“Wemus?” Harry said.

“Yes, Harry,” Remus replied. He slid his hands into his pockets and looked down at the boy.

“What happen to the pretty pictures on your arms?”

“I...uh…”

“He took them off for today, buddy.” Sirius saved Remus from attempting to explain the complexities of de-aging potions to a toddler.

“Oh, ok.” Harry shrugged.

Remus looked at him wide-eyed and mouthed, “Thank you.”

Sirius winked at Remus, then he asked Harry, “So, Harry, what do you want to do today?”

Harry gasped. “Can we go to the zoo?! Pleeeeease??”

“Sure.” Sirius chuckled.

~~~~~

They walked through the zoo at a leisurely pace, stopping to see each animal. Sirius noticed Remus hung back away from the exhibits most of the time. Harry was enthralled watching the kangaroos play with each other, so Sirius left him to it and walked to where Remus was standing a few feet away.

He stood next to Remus, watching Harry wave and talk to the kangaroos. “You ok?” Sirius nudged Remus with his shoulder.

“Animals don’t like me, especially typical prey animals.” He squinted. “It’s an instinct thing -- they can sense the werewolf predator inside me.”

“Why didn’t you say something?” Sirius asked. “We could have done something different.”

“Harry seemed so excited. I didn’t want to ruin his day.”

Sirius studied the side of Remus' face. When he had scrunched his eyes in explanation, Sirius could see his-Remus there for a moment. He knew it was only the outside that had changed, but it was still strange. Inside, Remus was the same thoughtful and caring person that Sirius had always known.

“Tell you what.” He reached for Remus' hand, and threaded their fingers together. “The next time you get a bizarre notion to take a temporary de-aging potion, we can go to Tate Modern or something.”

Remus' mouth fell open as he looked down and gazed at their interlocked hands.

“Oy…” Sirius gave Remus’ hand a squeeze. “Earth to Moony.”

“Moony?” Remus blinked at Sirius and lifted an eyebrow.

Sirius snickered. “Aw, Moony doesn’t like his pet name?”

Remus grinned and rolled his eyes. “If you insist.” He sighed.

“I do.” Sirius leaned over and kissed Remus on the cheek. The stubble was coarse against his lips. Remus tightened his grip on Sirius’ hand in response. 

More than anything, Sirius wanted to snog him silly right there in the middle of the zoo. But Remus still had protective barriers up around himself. Sirius didn’t want to take a wrecking ball to them, so much as a sledgehammer and slowly chip them away.

“My Moony,” he whispered into Remus’ cheek.

“Uh...Sirius...where’s Harry?”

Shit! Sirius raked his eyes over the kangaroo enclosure. His heartbeat was in his throat as he looked left and right. “Harry!” he yelled.

Harry was nowhere in sight. Sirius had lost his Godson. James and Lily were going to kill him.

“We’ll find him,” Remus reassured Sirius. “He couldn’t have gone far. Where do you think he would go?”

Sirius ran his hand across his chin and looked around, trying to push down the panic. “Um...I have an idea. Follow me!” He ran, with Remus right behind him.

A/N: Ok, so here’s the dealio. I have the last ten chapters of this fic mapped out, but they are not words on a page yet. Real life finally caught me, dammit. I will finish this fic if for no other reason than I don’t know the meaning of the word “quit.”

While I may not “win” the writer’s challenge, I still got a pretty cool story out of it, and I’ve had a lot of fun writing it and sharing it. Like I tell my students, failure is always an option; it’s the only way we learn and improve.

I will hopefully get at least one, if not two, chapters out per week. So, subscribe and sign up for notifications, or leave a comment if you want to be tagged when I post a new chapter. I promise, promise, promise I am not abandoning this fic.

XOXO

[queennicoleinboots]

Swamp Ass

A/N: Alternate Reality. Shit just happens.

It was yet another 80 degree-Fahrenheit day in Georgia. But 80 degrees is not 80 degrees in Georgia. It's really closer to 100 degrees when you factor in humidity and radiation from cell phone towers. I was sweating (and eating) like a pig.

My husband, Joebear, was growling because his butt was sweating. He hated having swamp ass. So he turned on the air conditioner. He also had a fan blowing in his face. The bear needed to be cool in order to not go bear shit on the world.

Speaking of bears, Colonel Mac, a gray bear, was riding over swamp land in his power wheelchair. His wheels were getting stuck in the swamp bog, so he kept having to ride one foot forward and two feet back. He was also grumbling about having a swamp ass because it was sweating in the chair. Clearly, he was having a fucked-up day.

Bruce the Ace of Brake-fixing also had a terrible case of swamp ass. He was taking a huge shit on some documents he needed to get rid of because his shredder stopped working. His angry brown bear wife named Megara thought his swamp ass was being put to good use. She had swamp ass, too.

I also had swamp ass. I was sitting under a tree in the swamp and eating vegetable soup and chocolate. I was also waiting on my husband's meatloaf to finish cooking so I could eat that. It had swamp ass, too.

Paul the Goat was trying to mow the swamp with his lawn mower because he was sick of the bog. His lawn mower broke. He started bleating with a deep voice and beating the hell out of the lawn mower. Apparently, he would scratch his butt every now and then. He lacked air conditioner and hot water. He had a case of swamp ass, too.

Hollywood, his horse that joined the Secret American Society of Sexually Frustrated Goats literally a second ago, also just took a sloppy, green dump on the lawn mower. His leg was in severe pain and needed an X-ray specifically done by a sexually frustrated goat veterinarian. Hollywood also had swamp ass.

Joebear realized that he could smell the horse shit. He sniffed the air and asked, "Whoa! What the fuck is that bullshit smell?" He squinched his nose and looked around to see Paul the Goat peeing on the lawn mower to rinse the horse shit off of it. The smell of the piss and shit was being caught in the fan. "Oh my God I'm braindead!" Joebear turned off the fan and stuck his head in the computer screen. "Actually braindead." Joebear scratched his head. He laughed. "That's fucked up. That's very much fucked up. And sometimes I wonder why I'm fucked up."

I laughed at my husband and said, "I'm sorry, bae. I'm fucked up."

Colonel Mac ran into a tree when he was backing up. The tree was moist and left a wet streak on Colonel Mac's back. "What the fuck is wrong with this tree?!" he screamed as he went forward and looked behind him as he shook his fist at the tree. "DOES IT NEED A MASSAGE?!" Even the tree had swamp ass.

"Apparently," I said. "I need a forehead massage to deal with all of this swamp ass!" I started to massage my own forehead.

"OH MY GOD!!!!!! FUCKING KIDDING ME?!!!!!" Joebear screamed at his computer. Apparently, it had swamp ass, too.

Colonel Mac tried to ride over to me before the damn wheelchair got caught on a fuckass tree root and sent him flying toward me. "HOLY SHIT!" he yelled in a strong Southern accent.

"All right. Time to get around this guy's dumb shit. Mother fucker!" Joebear growled as he referred to the tree with swamp ass and glared at his computer screen.

"I managed to get around the guy's dumb shit!" Colonel Mac screamed as his body ended up going through my forehead at Ludacris speed. He went physically through a tree before screaming as he landed right between Joebear and me. Then, Colonel Mac got up and started dancing a gig to the Chicken Dance song.

"Goddammit fucking horse!" Joebear screamed before Hollywood ran his bear ass over. The horse then kicked the shit out of the oven where the meatloaf was. "Ugh. Calm that shit down!" Joebear rolled over and growled.

Colonel Mac farted as he danced. Bruce the Ace of Brake-fixing farted as he ate a piece of a chicken. I farted as my ass was now foggy bottom.

The oven threw out the meatloaf and flew into Joebear's bear ass. "Just random kids! Why are they writing stories about my dinner going in my ass? Let's get rid of this dumb shit." On that note, Joebear took a shit. He also cussed out Black Desert Online and Magic the Gathering as he played them on his computer. He tried to play League of Legends, but he kept getting matches where he was 4 versus 5.

Colonel Mac also took this moment to take a shit to finish the dance. His ass was now a swamp. His shit literally consumed all of us. Now we were located in Swamp Ass Mac in Logantown, Georgia. This man hugged everyone as dudes do. No homo. No gay shit.

Skipjacks were swimming around in Mac's shit. Peter, my curly-haired jerk ex-client with green eyes, was sitting on a toilet that was on top of a shit wave that crashed near us.

Peter growled. "Dammit! Over a year later, and it happened again. Explosive diarrhea. Fuck me. I'm a zombie who has been radiated by nearby cell phone towers. OH AND I HAVE COVID-19!" he screamed as he remained on the toilet.

Joebear ate a piece of meatloaf before looking at him. "Dude, you're fucked up."

"Oh God. My long lost cousin's sister's brother's former college roommate almost had Covid a month ago. You're the first asshole who has it this month," Colonel Mac said. "Something tells me you're a swamp asshole."

"WHO IS HE TO YOU?!" Bruce the Ace of Brake-fixing sang randomly.

"Absolutely nobody," Colonel Mac said with a hearty laugh.

"What was the point of mentioning it then?" Megara asked as she threw her left hip to the side.

"The son'a bitch was a Democrat!" Colonel Mac said with a snort laugh.

"Really? I heard almost all Democrats had it," Peter said as he blinked.

"Yep. Only liberals have it," I said as I poked his right shoulder repeatedly.

"Oh fuck you, Xara!" Peter said as he rolled his eyes and poked me repeatedly. "Everything's political with you!"

Joebear ate a fish that was in Peter's shit wave. "What am I going to do about my balls?"

"I don't know, bae. You have swamp balls," I said.

"Swamp balls? What the fuck are those?" Joebear asked.

"They're like swamp ass. You have sweaty balls," I said.

Joebear stared at me with his bear brown eyes. "... Girl. You fucked up," he said.

Colonel Mac growled in agreement.

A random song from the 80s, "Hi! ho! Let's Go!" started playing in the swamp.

"Shut the. Fuck. Up. Shut the. Fuck. Up," Joebear sang along. "Let's stick our dicks in a blender and see what happens."

I laughed so hard I had a headache.

"Why not? I can't have sex when I have Covid. Might as well stick my dick in a blender and feed it to these fish," Peter said with a shrug.

The skipjacks immediately began to swirl around Peter while making goofy noises. They were hungry. And they had swamp ass.

"Fuck off. I was being facetious. And it's a fucking oven out here! It's almost as bad as when my old Ford Lincoln had no AC. Thank God that fucking car caught on fire," Peter spoke.

"That's nothing. I abuse my dick three times a day and have sex. And fuck that car indeed," Joebear said as he growled and started masturbating.

Paul the Goat bleated and had to excuse himself.

"There are too many penises and swamp asses in this story!" Colonel Mac shouted. "This is gay!"

Joebear growled loudly and realized that Colonel Mac was correct. "You're right, dude. I need sex!" Joebear screamed.

Everyone bleated except me. I was eating more vegetables. I needed to shower. I had swamp ass.

"Bae Whuhhh!!! Let me eat! Let me shower!" I shouted happily as I ate.

"Hurry up. I need to release seed. In fact, I need to eat, too. I am going to eat a sandwich!"

So Joebear took his sandwich and remaining piece of meatloaf and went in the woods to await me.

Colonel Mac tried to get out of this story, but he managed to tweak his right knee. "Oh fuck! I can't even get out of this sausage fest story! I'm fucked. Sigh!" he complained as his right leg was completely consumed by the swamp. It had swamp ass.

"Story of my life," Peter said with a giggle. "You would positively DIE if you knew half of the horrible shit I'VE gone through. Especially in the last three years. Holy Shit being around Xara is a curse!"

I giggled and ate the last bite of soup. Then, I walked over to fish out Colonel Mac's leg from swamp ass and patted his knee. "I'll give you the transcripts," I said to Colonel Mac as I poked the knee once.

"Feels good," Colonel Mac said. "Okay. Send the transcripts."

"Fuck you," Peter said as he folded his arms over his chest and glared at me with menacing green eyes.

"Haha. You're a dick, Peter," I said as I left the swamp.

Ted the Alligator then drained the swamp. Peter was going down a toilet while he remained on the toilet. Colonel Mac also was flushed down the toilet. Paul the Goat bleated, and Hollywood winnied as they were also flushed down Swamp Ass Mac's drain. Bruce the Ace of Brake-fixing randomly sang in opera, "SWAMP ASS!!! MY ASS PASSES GAS" as the end credits to this story.

[fortitudinous]

Unheard - Mental Health and Suicidal Thoughts

When you type into google "Would anyone care if I wasn't here anymore" the top search engine result is the Samariatians. You might wonder why I know that... but if you are wondering, you are not listening. I am exhausted. Mentally struggling. Emotionally wrung out and physically a wreak. My skin tone right now would be described as sallow. The bags under my eyes numerous from lack of sleep. Various aliments leave me in physical pain and discomfort. I look like shite, I feel like shite.

This isn't my first rodeo with struggling with my mental wellbeing and it's probably a good thing - because otherwise I probably wouldn't recognise the suicidal thoughts for what they are and what they mean. I wouldn't be practiced in initiating every coping strategy at my disposal to not go down that road. But for the first time in over a decade I have begun struggling with wanting to self harm. There I said it out loud. I would like to say in making that particular confession that I haven't acted on those thoughts... but the truth is there's been a couple of occasions in recent weeks when I have been so overwhelmed with anger that I have bitten my hand leaving teeth indentations and bruises. It has prevented me from curling up in a ball and screaming uncontrollably but it is a sign of how much pain I am in, that physical pain is needed to drown it out.

How have I got to this place? The short version is CoVid, my business blowing up because of CoVid and accompanying financial worries, two years without having a break from being Mum of two disabled kids, one of which had a seizure in January 2021 and explosive onset of Tourettes leading to having to pull them out of school in the middle of their GCSE assessments, balancing work with the effort need to navigate all the agencies involved because of my kids disabilities, trying to work whilst home schooling and navigating lockdown with two disabled kids, losing all of the support (such as respite) that was in place, building work not being finished and the realisation that our family are isolated, and without community. Mix in my Mum having a masectomy mid LD3, being wrongly accused of causing a car accident that didn't happen (it was dropped but meant I lived for three months with a police investigation hanging over my head) and a breast cancer scare of my own... and it's been a constant malestrom of things to overcome. I am lucky I have saint for a husband, but my steady rock, who is NOT prone to mental health problems is suffering too. If there were a warning system for a family in trouble we would have all the hazard lights blinking red.

I haven't pretended that we are okay. Both me and my husband are definitely suffering from parental burnout. I have asked for help, being open about how much we are struggling. I have spoken to our TAC officer assigned to our family from social services explaining how much we are struggling. I have reached out to a carers charity. Heck I even rang the samaritarians up one morning at 3am when things were really bad... only to be interrupted by my son freaking out. In July my son's therapist told me he was worried about me, and suggested we need to take time out. When? How?

Failed attempts to help

In August my brother was going to take the kids out for one day to give us a break, and later in the same week my parents were also going to take the kids out for the day. On the day my brother took my kids to Thorpe Park my husband and I spent a glorious six hours kid free. We mooched around a gallery, had afternoon tea on the terrace over looking the sea, soaking up the sun and breathing in the peace and quiet. It was glorious. But my brother came back from Thorpe Park earlier than planned because my daughter had a headache. That night at 1am in the morning I ended up in A&E with my daughter who had caught CoVid. The next day with the whole family taking lateral flow tests and my brother in law testing positive, we packed up our stuff, drove 5 hours home without stopping and lived with CoVid in our home for ten days. Not an easy thing to do with a germaphobic son. So much for our restorative time out.

In September I posted on FB asking for help. Only one person responded with an offer of help... and then kept cancelling on us. We were members of a community church for over 20 years. My husband and I met in church, married in church, had both our kids in church. All our big life events as adults took place in the context of that church. In June 2019 I made the decision to leave the church over doctrinal differences. My church pastor asked me if I was leaving the church or leaving the community. I said I was leaving the church and was told to "remember that." My husband and kids are still, to all intents and purposes, members of the church. Two weeks before Lockdown 1 my daughter was baptised by the church in a local swimming pool. But we haven't heard from our "community" for 18 months. No one has checked in on us since Lockdown 1. Not our pastor, not the elders of the church, nor the majority of our "friends." We are ghosts. We are on our own.

Since the FB post I've spoken to my brother who offered to come and visit for the weekend, giving my husband and I an opportunity to spend a day at a spa and book a night away in a hotel. Our first night away from the kids since 2019. It was all booked and sorted but then my brother, for good reasons, rang last week to say he couldn't do it. We've sorted it but rather than it being 'easy' - there's a lot of faffing around involved. The end of November can't come soon enough.

Would anyone care if I wasn't here?

And so that invasive thought has begun to get louder. Whirling around my inner dialogue multiple times a day. I see it for what it is, but as exhausted as I am, sometimes it is easier to leave it swirling than take the steps needed to bat it away. Last week it become more invasive, more insistent taking up my cognitive energy, vigorously robbing me of peace and calm. And so I decided to do the opposite of what I was feeling I could cope with. I invited everyone I knew to an open house to reunite, reconnect and hang out. No agenda, just friends coming together. Over eighty people were invited directly by me and an open invitation was posted on FB and our streets Whatsapp. But last night, after an hour, no one had showed up and I lay down on my bed and sobbed.

You see, I had told myself my feeling of isolation was all in my head because I was feeling vulnerable and tired. My perspective, like my mental health is squiffy. People did care, I have friends, lots of friends, I just needed to reach out and not allow my feelings of isolation lead to behaviours that isolated me from others.

Eventually four people turned up. But not a single one of my neighbours came. Nor did anyone else from our extensive community that we had been part of for two decades. Our open house invitation is open for two more Saturday evenings, so perhaps more people will turn up next week. But, given my currently destructive thought patterns the feeling of isolation that has been plaguing me for months is viseral and toxic. This morning I woke up with heart palpitations as the anxiety begins to morph into physical symptoms of panic.

We didn't know anything was wrong

There are too many social media posts appearing on streams from friends or family of people who have committed suicide. The posts invariably say something about people not realising anything was wrong. They also say something along the lines of make sure you ask for help. Well, I have been asking for help for most of 2021. I even plainly said in my September FB post "I need practical help not platitudes" to which someone commented; "you are so strong." FFS.

Since April I have openly been saying, when asked how I am doing, that I am struggling with my mental wellbeing, that I am tired, exhausted, feeling vulnerable... and since September, I have been saying that I am feeling isolated. Two months ago I emailed our TAC officer that I was beginning to have thoughts about self harming. So either people aren't hearing me or they are not listening to what I am saying.

Over to you I can talk about this stuff because I really don't care if you think I am a basket case. I am still functioning. I am still smashing it at work and I know I will navigate "this" with or without help from my absent friends and neighbours. But the reason for this post is because if this is happening to me - Mrs So Transparent I am like Cellophane, then there is a huge problem happening. Everyone, including YOU needs to wake up and smell the roses. I want you to really think about your friends, your family, colleagues and neighbours. To what extent are their cries for help remaining unheard? We need to stop giving platitudes and lip service to "being there" for others. We need to see, really see, those who need help and well, fucking well BE THERE giving real help when and wherever it is needed. Who needs your help? Pick up the phone. Drop round their house. Send them a message. Do it NOW. Don't wait until the unheard become another suicide.

[grapevynerendezvous]

With Love A Pot of Flowers - Various Artists

This release was compiled for and issued on producer Bob Shads’ Mainstream Records, a Chicago-based label. Four bands representing the rising garage and psychedelic music scene were brought together on one disc, San Francisco Bay Area groups, The Wildflower, Harbinger Complex, and The Other Side, plus Euphoria, a band out of Los Angeles with a brief stay in Texas. While none of these bands recordings reached a high success level, some of them are of memorable quality with some reaching a cult status among garage and psychedelic music enthusiasts. This record encapsulated the amazing things that were happening invthe Bay Area just before the major labels showed up. With Love A Pot of Flowers was released on October 21, 1967. I picked up on this album while perusing my favorite record store in the shopping center across from my high school. Besides my curiosity about this rather unique collection, I had heard of a couple of the bands. Harbinger Complex and Wildflower, that were held in some esteem by one of my respected friends. I decided to make the purchase after giving it a spin on the store platter. I found most of the songs to be very enjoyable, with some of them sounding quite unique to my developing musical ear. In doing my research on this album I immediately discovered that it had been later reissued on another label with twelve additional tracks, eight of them by six other bands that were on either the Mainstream or Brent labels, and four being mono versions of some of the original cuts. Bob Shad, the producer, A&R, and record label owner, was responsible for this and a number of other records released from the 1940s through the rest of the 1960s. Starting in the ‘40s he started producing blues, R&B and jazz albums and also began traveling to locations in the south to do location recording of blues and R&B acts that he found. He created several record labels starting with Sittin’ In With, followed by EmArcy and Time. He started the Brent label which focused mostly on West Coast acts,, and finally in 1964 he founded Mainstream Records. He again went on a location recording journey, this time heading west and managed to land in San Francisco and Los Angeles at a golden moment. After producing several unsuccessful singles, including ones by both SF Bay Area and L.A. bands, he made the decision to gather some of the best of what he had and release them on With Love A Pot of Flowers. It was one of the earliest of several rock albums on his label through the rest of the ‘60s, including  the first Big Brother and the Holding Company record, and the first three Amboy Dukes albums, which introduced Ted Nugent to the world, for better or worse.

Side One

The Wildflower - Baby Dear

recorded 1966 Mainstream Records * origin San Francisco CA

The Wildflower - Wind Dream

recorded 1966 Mainstream Records * origin San Francisco CA

Euphoria - Hungry Woman 

recorded 1966 Mainstream Records

The Other Side - Streetcar 

recorded 1966 Brent Records  * origin Fremont CA

The Wildflower - Coffee Cup 

recorded 1966 Mainstream Records * origin San Francisco CA

Harbinger Complex - I Think I’m Down

recorded 1966 Brent Records  * origin Fremont CA

Side Two

The Wildflower - Jump In

recorded 1966 Mainstream Records * origin San Francisco CA

The Other Side - Walking Down the Road

recorded 1966 Brent Records  * origin Fremont CA

Harbinger Complex - When You Know You’re in Love recorded 1966 Amber Records * origin Fremont CA

Euphoria - No Me Tomorrow

recorded 1966 Mainstream Records

Harbinger Complex - Time to Kill * origin Fremont CA

recorded 1966 Amber Records

Harbinger Complex - My Dear and Kind Sir

recorded 1966 Brent Records * origin Fremont CA

The Wildflower - Stephen Ehret - Rhythm Guitar, Lead Vocals, Tom Ellis - Drums, Teddy Schneider - Percussions Vocals John Jennings - Bass Michael Brown - Guitar * past member Lee Chandler - Guitar

The beginnings of Wildflower occurred at California College of Arts and Crafts in 1965 with band members Ehret, Ellis, Schneider, Jennings and Chandler. Ehret was the primary songwriter and at times collaborated with poets Michael McClure and Michael “Spike” McCausland as well as other band members. After Chandler left the band found Michael Brown to play lead guitar. The group was in the first wave of bands to mature as the psychedelic era swept in with the Summer of Love.

Up in Virginia City, Nevada restoration had been completed on a building that became the Red Dog Saloon, famous as the beginnings for the seminal Charlatans. After they had played there for one summer the owners decided to audition more bands to play the next summer. In 1966 The Wildflower and Big Brother and the Holding Company joined The Charlatans in rotation throughout that summer at the saloon. The Red Dog Saloon connection to the San Francisco music scene soon led to some of the folks involved in the Red Dog coming down to the city and establishing The Family Dog at The Avalon Ballroom. Wildflower played that Ballroom, The Fillmore, The Matrix, The Tripps Festival as well as touring extensively. The four Wildflower cuts on A Pot of Flowers were recorded in 1966. Baby Dear and Wind Dream were on the band’s only single. The band continued on in one form or another until 1972. 

In 2008 Ehret, Ellis, Jennings and Brown, together with guitarist Bannon and keyboardist Robert South reunited. This lead to the recording of several new songs that Stephen Ehret had composed over time. The result was the album Wildflower - 40 Years in a Blink of an Eye which was released in September of that year on Wildflower Records. Wind Dream and Coffee Cup were included on it along with newer songs. Stephen Ehret is still performing regularly in the SF Bay Area (except for the current COVID-19 shelter in place order) as of this writing.

Euphoria - Hamilton Wesley Watt Jr. - Vocals. Guitar William “Bill” D. Lincoln - Guitar, Bass David Potter - Drums Peter Black - Bass James Harrell - Guitar 

Euphoria evolved from a band called The Bushmen, which was formed in Cleveland, Ohio by Wesley Watt. He had enlisted drummer David Potter (from who’s biography much of this information is obtained) after seeing Potter play with another band in a local club, The Clinton Bar. Not long after, in May 1965, Watt, the then 16-year old Potter plus Paul Armstrong, and Carl Johnson moved to Los Angeles where they quickly became the house band at the club, Guys and Dolls. Eight weeks later they had signed with Colpix Records, along with Platters manager Buck Ram as their manager. While it is not clear what happened with Armstrong and Johnson, by the time they recorded their only single, Bill Lincoln seemed to have become part of the band. Their only single was released in June, “Baby” backed by What I Have I’ll Give to You”, the latter being co-written by Lincoln. Bill had relocated from Seattle by at least 1963 as he co-wrote the song Walk on the Surf Side b/w lost Love by The Nova-Tones. Presumedly the same Bill Lincoln.

The Bushmen were getting a lot of attention and notoriety. This caught the attention of director David L. Wolper, who was looking for bands to be in a TV documentary he was going to film, Teenage Revolution, enlisted the band along with four others, including The Lovin’ Spoonful. Footage of the The Bushman playing a gig ended up being shot for the film in Lancaster CA. Over the next few months Watt, Lincoln (and likely Potter) recorded four more songs. In August they released a single as The War-Babies containing Jeanie’s Pub b/w Love is Love on Highland Records, followed by Now It’s Over b/w So Little Time under the moniker The WordD on Brent Records.

It was soon after those recordings that the group became Euphoria and they started touring under that name. During a successful tour in Texas they picked up two new members from the band The Misfits, Peter Black on bass and James Harrell on guitar, and ended up staying there for awhile. While in Houston in 1966 new tracks were recorded, none of  them released at the time. Four of those tracks surfaced in1982 when Texas Archive Records released them on the Houston Hallucinations record. According to the Opulent Conceptions blog, “The band had other unreleased Texas recordings which await reissue”. There was no indication whether that has ever happened. Returning to Los Angeles, Bob Shad of Mainstream (and Brent) Records recorded four songs with Euphoria at a session in December 1966 at United Studios in Hollywood. A single was released containing two of them, Hungry Woman and No Me Tomorrow, both of which ended up on the collection, With Love A Pot of Flowers. In the extended version of the album released later the two songs by The WordD also appeared. The other two unreleased tracks that were recorded in Dec. ’66 were lost.

Around this time Bill Lincoln got married and moved to England and Euphoria basically dissolved once the single failed to have any impact. Black and Harrell rejoined The Misfits back in Texas, and the band became Lost and Found. Watt and Potter joined the Lee Michaels band and toured and ended up playing on his album Carnival of Life. After friction with Michaels during the recording came to a head, Watt ended up playing on an album by East Side Kids. Bill Lincoln returned to LA and he and Wesley Watt created their masterpiece album under the name Euphoria, A Gift From Euphoria, released on Capitol Records in 1968. David Potter was also credited along with guitarist Doug Delain. While it was not a big seller it has become a much sought after collectors album and has been re-released twice as a CD on two other labels.

Watt, Potter and Lincoln all continued in music into the early ‘70s through various projects. together or separately with other artists. For a time Potter, after becoming a sought after session drummer, moved to Houston and ended up on an album with Endle St. Cloud (Alan Mellinger), in which Black and Harrell were also involved. Per the article in Garage Hangover “Bill Lincoln recorded an album with his wife Lynda and friends as Addie Pray. Late for the Dance went unreleased for years”. It was then made available on CD Baby, which has since retired its’ music store in March 2020. It appears they live in Western Washington. After marrying his wife David Potter moved to her home state of Wisconsin, passing away of ALS (Lou Gehrig’s Disease in 2011. Wesley Watt left LA in the ‘70s, moving to Northern Minnesota and worked in logging. He built his own recording studio and helped produce an album with a successful single for the band Whiskey River. After serving in the military for about three years he returned to LA for a while. He then moved to Sheboygan WI by invitation of his sister and had a few businesses there before passing away in 2015 after a three year battle with cancer.

-While researching the subject of Euphoria it became apparent that there was a certain amount of conflicting information as well as some conjecture in regards to the factualness of some of that information. At first it was difficult to find out much at all, but over a period of three days much more presented itself. The goal was to gather the information that seemed to have veracity while attempting to use as little of my own conjecture as possible. I think I have done a reasonable job of pulling the story of Euphoria into a cohesive and fulfilled description.

The Other Side (Otherside, Topsiders) -, Vocals Ken Matthew - Drums Tom Antone - Bass Ned Torney - Guitar, Keyboards, Vocals Martin Van Slyke Battey - Harmonica, Guitar, vocals Alan Graham - Guitar * past members Jim Sawyers - Guitar David Tolby - Guitar Skip Spence - Rhythm Guitar Danny Phay - Vocals, Jo Kemling - Keyboards The Other Side, or Otherside as some sources refer to it, was originally formed in Fremont CA as a surf band called The Topsiders by Sawyers, Matthew, Antoine and Tolby. Skip Spence was with them briefly and as he was leaving to play drums for Jefferson Airplane, gave the band the idea for what became their new name and which had been rejected by the Airplane. Many ongoing personal changes occurred after this beginning with Jim Sawyers departing for The Vegitables and ultimately The Syndicate of Sound.

The band became forever linked with Chocolate Watchband when lead guitarist and keyboardist Ned Torney opted to leave the Watchband and join The Other Side along with lead vocalist Danny Phay and shortly thereafter, keyboardist Jo Kemling. After placing runner-up at a Battle of the Bands sponsored by KEWB 91 in November 1965 the band got an endorsement from DJ Johnny G. and started drawing large crowds during a heavy performance schedule. Ned Torney got drafted but was stationed for nearly five months at Letterman Hospital in San Francisco and was only available on weekends. Enter Marty Battey to help fill in. Torney returned full time in May, making it necessary to drop one person which turned out to be Kemling. His departure was soon followed by Phay. Guitarist Alan Graham was then pulled out Lord Jim Quintet and assisted on vocals. This ended up being the line up that went into the studio and made the band’s only recordings, Walking Down The Road and Streetcar. After Antoine had received a draft notice and Battey departed, a new bass player, Wayne Paulson, came on and the band changed their name to Bogus Thunder.

The Harbinger Complex - Robert Hoyle III - Guitar Ron Rotarius - Lead Guitar James Hockstaff - Vocals Gary Clarke - Bass Jim Redding - Drums * past member Chuck Tedford - Organ

The band began as The Norseman in 1963 in Fremont CA. Robert Hoyle and Rob Rotarius had played guitar together in the 8th grade and then in high school formed the band. Hoyle, a naval reservist, served in Vietnam from ’65-‘’’66 and upon return found the band had been performing, lead by Rotarius and now named Harbinger Complex. Jim Hockstaff had come aboard as lead vocalist and frontman. Hockstaff had a reputation as what has been called “Dionysian exploits” by Stansted Montfichet in his Allmusic band biography, alluding to his expulsion from Washington Township High School after “siring several love children”. Once Hoyle returned to the fold he and Hockstaff were the songwriting team. In response to a question posed several years later in a blog interview with Jim Hockstaff regarding how the songwriting partnership played out, Hockstaff wrote this, “Bob had just returned from Nam and he possessed a smoldering fire that reflected in the lyrics (“Time to Kill”). Yes we collaborated together and separately, giving each other equal credit as the songs emerged. The energy of our group was never captured on the records we made with the possible exception of 'I Think I’m Down'. Lysergic Acid played a role as well in our thinking and playing!!!” (from Opulent Conceptions blog The Harbinger Complex-Interview With Jim Hockstaff Feb. 19, 2013)

In April 1966 the band released their first single Time to Kill with B-side When You Know You’re in Love. Bob Hoyle III penned Time to Kill after his time spent in Vietnam. About this time Harbinger Complex, along with The Baytovens, opened for Paul Revere and the Raiders at Oakland Auditorium. Those two local bands also co-headlined a KFRC sponsored show at College of San Mateo later in October. Their second single, the garage psychedelic punk cult favorite, I Think I’m Down b/w My Dear and Kind Sir was released in August ’66. All those songs are included in With Love A Pot of Flowers while two other songs recorded on a third single Sometimes I Wonder and Tomorrow’s Soul Sound were not nearly as strong and never went anywhere. Jim Hockstaff left the band in early 1967 with Gary Clark taking over lead vocals, followed by the band breaking up by the end of the year. In the Comments section of the Opulent Conceptions blog someone said that Harbinger Complex continued into the ‘70s with some new members and eventually changed their name to Helix. There is no actual confirmation of this, neither should it be confused with the Canadien band with the name Helix.

http://rockasteria.blogspot.com/2017/02/various-artists-with-love-pot-of.html

https://www.allmusic.com/album/with-love-a-pot-of-flowers-mw0002002491

https://www.allmusic.com/album/release/with-love-a-pot-of-flowers-mr0002415435

https://www.discogs.com/Various-With-Love-A-Pot-Of-Flowers/master/380119

http://www.thewildflower-sf.com/bio.htm

http://www.thewildflower-sf.com/beginning.htm

http://www.chickenonaunicycle.com/Wildflower.htm https://garagehangover.com/the-bushmen-war-babies-and-euphoria/ 

Internet Archive Wayback Machine-David Potter Bio https://web.archive.org/web/20131221220822/http://www.davidpottermusician.com/?page_id=179

Euphoria About https://www.facebook.com/pg/EUPHORIA-104995562883217/about/?ref=page_internal

Hamilton Wesley Watt obituaryhttps://www.legacy.com/obituaries/sheboyganpress/obituary.aspx?n=hamilton-w-watt&pid=174260541&fhid=14115

Euphoria Home https://www.facebook.com/EUPHORIA-104995562883217/

David Wolper’s Teenage Revolution documentary https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0857409/ https://www.thevideobeat.com/music-documentaries/teenage-revolution.html

https://www.allmusic.com/artist/the-otherside-mn0000475534

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Harbinger_Complex

https://www.allmusic.com/artist/the-harbinger-complex-mn0000554526

2010 release of enhanced album with tracks from other bands as well https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9f34fV5MU6Y

LP34

[frontproofmedia]

Jessica McCaskill's Journey to the Undisputed Welterweight Title

By Steven Weinberg | Contributing Writer and Photographer

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Published: September 17, 2020

Jessica McCaskill’s (9-2, 3 KOs) birthday came a few weeks early this year. On August 15th, the now 36-year-old, unified 140-pound champion moved up a weight class and dethroned the First Lady of Boxing, Cecilia Braekhus (36-1, 9 KOs), by majority decision to become the new undisputed WBC, WBC, WBO, IBF, and IBO Welterweightbelt champion.  

The fight, originally scheduled for April in Maryland, was postponed due to COVID and rescheduled to take place in Tulsa, OK.  Despite the pandemic, McCaskill viewed the shutdown as a positive.  

“I felt like Chicago really prepared us for Tulsa.  We pretty much kept a quarantine life here – I came to the gym. I went home. Maybe I went to the pet store, maybe to get groceries. But I was in the gym most of the time.”  

As a result, by the time McCaskill arrived in Tulsa, the “fighter’s bubble” didn’t impact her.  At the hotel, the team was cut off from each other and confined to separate rooms. McCaskill was able to leave her room with a security escort for one hour per day to work out by herself.  Walking one building over from the hotel to the gym, which was equipped only with a heavy bag, treadmill, bike, and scale, was the only outdoor activity for the week.   

Back in the hotel room for 23 hours per day, room service was available, and Uber Eats orders had to first pass through Matchroom COVID screeners.  

McCaskill said with a laugh, being stuck in a hotel room wasn’t that bad. “I love fight week.  I get three times as much sleep as I normally do, and watch a bunch of trash TV to relax.”  

Other than that, she conducted Zoom workout sessions with her strength and conditioning coach and phone interviews to stay busy.   

Making weight has been a problem for many fighters returning during the pandemic, but not for McCaskill.  Leading up the fight, which was at a catchweight of 145 pounds, McCaskill wanted to keep her weight between 147 pounds and 152 pounds.  On her social media, she was often seen working out in a simple tank top and spandex.  During fight week, all she had to do was work out and back off her eating to be good to go.

Braekhus, however, appeared to have weight issues, and Team McCaskill viewed Braekhus agreeing to the 145-pound catchweight as a huge tactical error.  They believe Braekhus simply overlooked McCaskill to where she backed off her weight loss and gave McCaskill a head start.  

On Braekhus’s social media, she was often seen in plastics, working out with weights, trying to sweat everything out.  In fact, McCaskill feels that Braekhus was drained on fight night.  

“She guzzled, like, 2 liters of water right after the weigh-in, and even during the face-off, I could see her chest and her abdomen, kinda uneasy breathing and anxious, like maybe she was feeling bad. And seeing how uneasy she was, was such a confidence builder.”  

McCaskill emphasized, “The face-off means everything to the fighter.  It tells you their mental state.”  

Thus, Braekhus never having fought below 147 pounds gave McCaskill an immediate advantage.  

Despite the Tulsa cityscape that served as the backdrop to the fight, McCaskill remained focused in the ring.  She said not having a crowd in such a unique venue was beneficial. With no noise, there were fewer distractions, which dulled down the moment.  McCaskill felt that had people been in attendance, especially in such a nice and unique venue, it would have hyped things too much. Without the distractions, she was able to level herself out and remain focused.  

Additionally, the day’s heat was not an issue. Prior to the start of the fight, the temperature was above 90 degrees.  But, by the time the fighters left their dressing rooms, the temperature had dropped about 10 degrees. As McCaskill made her ring walk, she felt a breeze and knew the heat and humidity of Tulsa would not be an issue. Braekhus, however, had been in Big Bear, CA, since January, and the climate of Tulsa likely weighed heavily on her. 

Once the fight started, McCaskill planned to see what Braekhus was going to do. Her team thought Braekhus would either come forward as a result of new trainer Abel Sanchez, or get on her bike, punch, and move. McCaskill specifically remembered in the first minute, moving, punching, and circling to her right.  Braekhus began moving forward.  

McCaskill said, “I thought, oh, that’s their game plan. She’s going to come towards me. Well, let’s go.”  

Rick Ramos, McCaskill's trainer, and manager said the plan was to wait the first 30 or 40 seconds. He wanted Jessica to slide off and not come forward.  If Braekhus came forward, that meant she was going to try and walk McCaskill down and implement the Abel Sanchez style, the Mexican style.  If Braekhus was to do that, Ramos wanted McCaskill to stop and go forward herself.  

And he beamed with confidence, “if that happened, we were going to win the fight.”  

Sure enough, Braekhus came forward.

McCaskill jumped in the pocket and went full throttle.  “I was very surprised at how fast I was able to start.”   

She continued, “I felt like a lot of things made themselves available that we practiced for. Uppercuts on the inside, long right hands straight down the middle.  I had some bigger, wilder right hands, but there were a lot of punches that just snapped her head back. It made me seem like the dominant puncher.”  

The result was that Braekhus was uncomfortable. For the first time in 36 professional fights, she tried to brawl. In fact, Braekhus, who never recorded a knockout, seemed to want to brawl.

 Ramos emphasized, “Cecilia couldn’t adjust because she looks up to Abel Sanchez, rightfully so. So she listened to him and stuck to his game plan, and she didn’t want to go off his game plan. She tried to come forward and do what he taught her to do because she trusts him. It was bad coaching. It was the wrong style for a 39-year-old fighter.  She should have tried to be more slick as an older fighter rather than a banger.”  

In other words, Abel Sanchez pushed Braekhus to be a type of fighter that she��s not.  

McCaskill was a bit more blunt.  

“It was arrogance. Arrogance in what he [Abel Sanchez] thinks his ability is as a coach and arrogance collectively that they can just try something new on this random person, and either way, they’ll just come out on top.”   

Ramos echoed the sentiment.  “This will sound disrespectful, but I think it was arrogance from Cecilia and more so from Abel.  They’ve been in the game so long that we’re basically fighting their names and reputations, right? I think it was arrogance. They didn’t really think of us.  I always pay attention to the coaching, and I’m sure Abel Sanchez didn’t even blink an eye at me.  Right before the fight, I pointed at them and said, Jess, look at them; they’re old. We should beat these guys. They are not on our level anymore.” 

What’s more, Ramos didn’t think the arrogance was confined to two people. 

 “It was pure arrogance on everyone involved.  If you even look at the championship belts [given to Jessica], they say Cecilia on them.  That’s the highest level of disrespect. It wasn’t just Cecilia and Abel; it was promoters, writers, odd makers, and everyone involved.”  

Immediately after the fight, McCaskill wondered if it was going to be a draw and if Ramos would be okay with that.  Ramos had McCaskill winning by one round, but wouldn’t have been surprised if it was a draw simply based on being the “B-side” and Braekhus’s status in the sport. 

The first score read: 95-95.  After hearing that score, McCaskill thought about how she had the dominant ring presence, threw more punches, and didn’t do things wrong like backpedal and get caught on the ropes.  She felt confident the win would be hers. 

Interestingly, McCaskill says a key give away is how the other scores are read.  If it is announced that one judge has a certain score, and another judge has a different score, it will be a draw.  But when the scores are read together, it will be a majority decision.  Sure enough, the next two scores were read together, 97-93 and 97-94, and McCaskill waited for what felt like a year to hear “and the NEW . . . “  

The sense of relief was overwhelming.  Ramos says the win cements his place in the boxing world and McCaskill's place in the hall of fame as a two-division, unified, and undisputed champion.  

“I’m just happy for everything we’ve been through. Buying all of the tickets ourselves, all of the promoters and sanctioning bodies blowing me off . . . I honestly want to say “Fuck You” to everyone for not believing in us.”  

McCaskill wasn’t as defiant but did say, “the haters are out there, and they’re salty, and they’re upset, but we did it. We came and did exactly what we said we were going to do, and I was very happy for the team. “

Thanks to COVID, Team McCaskill’s celebration was muted.   Some close friends and gym members had driven down from Chicago, and together they enjoyed cheeseburgers, ice cream, and beer from room service. Nonetheless, a celebration was to be had. Jessica McCaskill unseated the First Lady of Boxing to become the new undisputed welterweight champion. 

Immediately after the fight, Braekhus intimated that she was hanging up the gloves. But after reflecting on what she viewed as a poor performance, she elected to exercise her rematch clause.  

Both McCaskill and Ramos believe that exercising the rematch clause doesn’t make good business.  

Ramos said, “She’ll have to fight by the end of the year, and I don’t think she stays with Abel Sanchez, and I don’t think she learns a whole new style from a new coach in three or four months.  She could go back to her old coach, and that’s cool, but there was something going on for her to leave in the first place.  I don’t think she’d be putting herself in place to win.  And I think whoever is managing her and promoting her would agree with me."

McCaskill holds a slightly different view.  When the rematch happens, because McCaskill is now the “A” side, the fight will be at 145 pounds again, which proved detrimental to Braekhus the first time around.  If Braekhus insists on the fight occurring at 147 pounds, McCaskill laughed, she’ll have to get paid more, that’s how it works.  

But McCaskill also has the interests of women’s boxing at heart.  

“If Cecilia fights me again and loses, or gets knocked out, nobody is going to want to see her again. If she sets the rematch aside, and Taylor v. McCaskill 2 happens, Katie has momentum; I have momentum, that’s going to be a good business plan.  Cecilia can make contracts to fight both of us, winner and loser.  That will give her at least two more fights, whereas if she fights me right away, that could be her last fight.  A good business plan all around is to keep female boxing going; we don’t want to stifle it.”

Nonetheless, Braekhus seems only interested in attempting to getting her former belts back.  But McCaskill gave Braekhus her first taste of defeat in 13 years of professional boxing. That can have a tremendous psychological toll on a fighter.  With the rematch slated for early 2021, McCaskill and her team are more than willing to give Braekhus a second helping loss. 

(Featured Photo: Ed Mulholland/Matchroom Boxing)

[bumcheeks94]

So feeling a bit shitty at the moment so though I’d do another post and kick off where I finished.

So yes, i have a lot of self esteem and trust issues because of my ex partner. A lot of people don’t know this or understand this because I’m a young(ish) male who is not unattractive.. I’m not the hottest person in the world but I don’t know how else to paint the picture.

I appear to have a lot of confidence which is why people don’t see the... real me, if that’s what you wish to call it.

Anyway, after I caught my ex wanking to porn and me starting to go down hill from there. We kept spiralling and heading down hill so I started to seek counselling because I thought the reason he didn’t love me or have sex with me was all my fault and I blamed myself for everything. My counsellor told me point blank. “You need to leave him” I didn’t like that the counsellor advises me to do that so I fakes that our problems and my problems had gone away so I didn’t have to see them again.

We eventually lead to breaking up which after being together for two years I was obviously upset which only lasted a few weeks and then I was back to my normal self since the person I am is one to wrap things in a box, chain them and lock them and never open them again so I was over it quick smart.

I then explored the gay scene and have been doing so since we broke up. It’s now been 2.5 years of me being single.

This is the part where things get to where I am today.

I met a boy. He was married, to a woman and they had recently gotten married when we started seeing eachother. The first time we ever met, there was this instant connection I felt - I couldn’t explain what it was but I just wanted more more more. He did lie to me at the start and tell me that he was single, then he later told me he had a gf then we went for lunch during work hours and he told me he was recently married. I was clearly a bit shocked and I wa snore upset as to the fact that he’s done what he perceived to be (normal) marry the girl, have children and a house with a picket fence. People need to get that idea out of their head and be themselves and it will all work out in the end.

Anyways! He then not long after we met, went on his honeymoon with his new wife. We talked throughout the whole time he was gone (6 weeks) and it was about his feelings and coming out one day and if he wanted to be with his wife then when he came back we met up for a lunch in the city again. I just really liked to spend time with this guy because if he asked me why I was sad. I’d tell him and I wouldn’t lie. I felt like I could be 100% honest with him and it felt good to be able to... breath in a sense...

His wife had found out that he’d been speaking to guys and that when they got home from the honeymoon he’d be able to move out for a month and “find himself” I offered him my place to stay since I didn’t want him staying at a random guys house every night so he lived with me for this month.

During that month, we went on dates, dinners, lunches, days off work, sleeping side by side every night it was amazing and I wouldn’t trade that for the world. He also smelt amazing which was a big plus. It was however, an emotional roller coaster. At the end of the month he decided that he wanted to give his marriage one last shot before giving up and I had stated that if he’s to do that then we can’t be friends anymore because of our history and that we can’t even text at all.

Him leaving that day was one of the most emotional days I’ve ever had in my life, we cried to eachother before he left because he gave me this amazing card which started me off and because I alwayyys raves about his smell, he bought me the cologne as a thank you present.

Then I had to put him in his car and put it in reverse. He didn’t want to drive away because he was crying so much and I was holding back as much as I could but some tears cane out. It really felt like something had died in my life. With that last kiss through the driver window I told him he had to leave and try give this marriage a shot. As he was driving away I watched him till he turned the corner at the end of the street.

I was sobbing in the middle of the road because I didn’t think I’d ever see him again. I ran straight to my room and cried and cried into my pillow. I was an emotional wreck and I’ve never cried so much..

A couple of hours went on and i couldn’t stop thinking about how he was and making sure that he was safe and okay. We ended up messaging eachother to check in and all was still shit to be honest. We lasted 4 days I think until we met up again to see eachother. On that day, we again had sex. He decided then and there that his marriage wasn’t going to work out and he had to leave. I offered him a place but he didn’t want to make it emotionally painful for me anymore than it was. He then moved in with family and started to come out to them and his friends too.

I like to think I was there every step of the way helping him through that part of his life. We kept a sewing eachother and it was all going alright. I didn’t think this at the time but I fell in love head over heels with this boy without even realising. Because he knew my feelings toward him, he decided to back off romantically to try make it easier for me but I wanted him bad and I would always be waiting for his call, his text, his Snapchat. Another hard day was when he went back on Grindr. This broke my heart and made me feel like a piece of shit.

The whole time we were seeing eachother he always said he didn’t want a boyfriend and that he wasn’t ready so I knew he had to explore his gay side without having the guilty conscience with him because he was now single. I’d always be asking him how his night was, what he was doing, who he was with, if hes had sex with anyone else, if he’s met anyone else.

Every time without fail when he responded with a yes or that he was with someone, I’d go into a state of jealousy, unhappiness and anger too. These are not nice feelings and it makes your life miserable. This was happening for a month or two over and over and over because I knew that there was guys out there sleeping with him and having sex with him and having that connection with him that I want.

After this happening, it was Easter weekend on the Saturday night. My housemate, her boyfriend and their baby were all home in the lounge room and I was in my room watching tv. I, without even thinking. Decided then and there that I again was going to harm myself, I got the razor. Took out the blade and just cut, I didn’t even have a second thought about this and I was relieved that I had done it again and I felt like I could again take a breath because things emotionally were over..

The thing with self harm is that, the goal isn’t suicide. The goal is to just feel something other than the anger, jealousness, and hurt that you’ve been feeling for whatever reasons you have.

I didn’t want to tell anyone and I didn’t until I saw my GP. I had told him over the phone (as per COVID) what I done and he asked me to come in and see him each fortnight in person. This GP has been the best support I’ve had from a THP so far and I can not be more grateful to have him there for when I need.

After the self harm, I woke up one day and asked him to call me when his ‘friend’ left his house. When he called me I broke down and told him that I can’t do it anymore, I can’t be the person who is okay with him sleeping with other people. I didn’t want to tell him that I loved him but i blurted it out. I told him that for me to move on I can’t see him, speak to him or text him. I just needed to, let. Go. 

This was another extremely hard day, because all I wanted to do was call and text and snap but I couldn’t and I knew that if I wanted to move on I had to cut alllll ties with this guy.

It’s now been about a month and a half and I am still laying in bed, wanting him to cuddle me and tell me things will be alright. Or just call me and say, “hey beautiful boy, hows your day?” I still lay in bed sometimes and just cry to myself wondering what he’s doing and where he is and why I’m not good enough.

I’ve never, ever felt this way about someone, I had my first partner who was the love of my life for 4.5 years, I then had my other partner for 2 years and I wasn’t that sad about those breakups.

This was a total of 5 months, and I am still crying about him after not speaking for a month and a half. I don’t know what it is with this guy, I don’t know what he’s done to me and my feelings, I don’t know why my head just won’t stop thinking about him or dreaming about him or just generally being sad all day because he’s not here and I can’t talk to him.

I have had sex since he’s left with another man obviously and It’s so frustrating because I close my eyes during the sex and imagine that it’s him and I picture his face, eyes, smile looking at me. I imagine his soft hands touching my body or sometimes slapping it and I just wonder why I’m still this way when i should be over it by now.

I can not fully give my self and my all to anyone because I can’t get this guy out of my head. I will be honest, I have recently though more about self harm and I really want to do it but I don’t want those scars on my body since I still have the ones from when I was 15 there too.

I’m now seeing my GP and a psychologist but I don’t think anything is working. I don’t know what to do anymore and I don’t know how to breath, eat, walk, talk, act, do, say, blink because my concentration is stuck on this person.

I just don’t know how to help myself anymore..