#I nearly cried on my way back home because I was just so overwhelmingly happy

[queen0funova]

I was at a cute little poetry circle recently, and I read a poem of mine inspired by my favorite poem. "Batter My Heart, Transgender’d God" by Meg Day (I'll put that poem under the cut). Someone then turned to me and asked if my "Batter My Heart" was the inspiration for it. Apparently they're the one who introduced the poem to the person who introduced me to it

Batter My Heart, Transgender’d God by Meg Day:

Batter my heart, transgender’d god, for yours

is the only ear that hears: place fear in my heart

where faith has grown my senses dull & reassures

my blood that it will never spill. Show every part

to every stranger’s anger, surprise them with my drawers

full up of maps that lead to vacancies & chart

the distance from my pride, my core. Terror, do not depart

but nest in the hollows of my loins & keep me on all fours.

My knees, bring me to them; force my head to bow again.

Replay the murders of my kin until my mind’s made new;

let Adam’s bite obstruct my breath ’til I respire men

& press his rib against my throat until my lips turn blue.

You, O duo, O twin, whose likeness is kind: unwind my confidence

& noose it round your fist so I might know you in vivid impermanence.

[four-loose-screws]

FE8 Novelization Translation - Chapter 17, Section 2

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I call this a “section” because it is not a separate part of the chapter in the book, but divided from the rest of the chapter by a scene break.

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Chapter 17 - The Demon King's Shadow (con’t)

Frelia's pegasus knight unit was continuing to desperately defend against an overwhelmingly large enemy army.

Their entire unit had already been nearly wiped out, and the remaining soldiers were putting all of their strength into defending the bridges. If they fell here, then the enemy could invade in one fell swoop, and the people of Narube would likely be massacred without resistance.

"Those who can move, take the citizens south!" Syrene, the leader of the pegasus knight unit, shouted as loudly as she could while swinging around her lance and fending off the enemy's onslaughts.

However, she hardly had any knights left that could follow that order. Even if the knights managed to get the children atop the pegasi, their wings were damaged, and they couldn’t fly. Even the citizens who had panicked and cried at first had already lost the energy to do that any longer, and exhaustedly slipped into utter silence.

They’d made a major miscalculation. The Grado Army had lost the capital, yet still had a large number of soldiers left.

If the knights thought only about themselves, then they had the possibility to take advantage of their pegasi’s mobility and retreat, but they couldn’t abandon the people of Narube just to escape.

“We’re at our limit, Lady Syrene! We’ll buy you some time! Please do whatever it takes to get out of here!” A knight wearing armor covered in blood yelled at her.

But Syrene shook her head.

She had no intention of running away until the very end. The bodies of the Frelian soldiers who’d exhausted all of their strength lay around her. She was ready to die here in battle herself as well.

Her only regret was that she couldn’t live up to Prince Innes’ hopes for her. She remembered the day that she’d officially become the leader of the pegasus knights as if it was yesterday. The prince had personally given her a beautiful whip and said that the pegasus knight unit was the pride and joy of Frelia, and he wanted them to fight for their homeland so long as they drew breath.

His words filled her chest with deep emotions. She swore to herself that she would devote herself to Frelia… and Prince Innes and Princess Tana.

The plan was to unite her forces with the prince’s at Narube River and fight together at full strength under his orders. However, before that could happen, she would probably see her end. Regret burned in her heart.

Her younger sister was together with the prince. That was her only consolation. If her sister could protect the prince when she couldn’t… then that was all she could ask for.

“Lady Syrene, that’s…!” One of the knights shouted.

Was it more enemy reinforcements? Just how much leftover strength could the Grado Army have at this point? 

The moment Syrene was about to succumb to her despair, she looked at where her soldier was pointing, and instinctively breathed a sigh of belief.

A large army was nearing from the south. They were still a considerable distance away, so she couldn't clearly make out who they were, but the color of their armor was different from that of the Grado Army.

"Is that… the Renais Army…?" The moment Syrene whispered, a single pegasus knight appeared from the oncoming crowd, and flew straight in her direction. 

Syrene knew who it was before her eyes could even confirm the rider’s face, as she could distinguish the slight but distinct strong wing movements and neck shaking of individual pegasi.

She smiled without even thinking about it, and felt a weight be lifted off her shoulders that had been with her since the beginning of the war.

“Commander Syrene, are you alright?!” The knight riding the pegasus shouted, and swiftly threw a javelin at a Grado soldier coming at her while avoiding his own attack.

She effortlessly hit her target, showing her strength. ‘She’s gotten so much stronger in such a short amount of time.’ Syrene thought.

“Vanessa, you’re here! Meaning…”

“Yes, Prince Innes and Princess Tana are with me! They are safe as well!”

“Thank goodness…” Relief warmed her heart. 

Vanessa continued in a commanding tone, “Please stand down, Commander! We’ll take it from here.”

“No, I...”

‘...am not severely injured,’ she started to say, but thought twice about it.

Both her and her unit were already at the limits of their stamina. Even if she continued to be stubborn and fight on the front line, she would do the exact opposite of help, and get in her allies’ way. It was wiser for her to retreat for the moment, recuperate, and then pick up her weapon again.

“Understood! I will stand down for now, and let your commander take over from here. Please tell them I said so.”

“Yes Ma’am!”

“And Vanessa.”

Vanessa tried to guide her pegasus higher into the sky, but Syrene called out to her again.

Vanessa turned back around and no longer had her previous tense expression on her face, perhaps because she had finally relaxed. 

Syrene responded in a casual tone, “It looks like you’ve been playing a very big role as a soldier of Princess Eirika’s guard. I was really worried when I heard that you’d been betrayed in Carcino, but… I finally feel at ease.”

“Thank you Ma’am…!”

"Your spearmanship has improved greatly since we parted as well. And you've become a bit more beautiful too."

Vanessa’s eyes widened at suddenly being teased, and her cheeks turned red. “S-Sister…!”

No matter how good their relationship was as sisters, on the battlefield, they were commander and subordinate. To Vanessa, who was so serious it made her formal and strict, keeping that distinction was of vital importance. But right now, even she had forgotten herself.

Syrene laughed out loud and guided her pegasus to softly spread her wings.

Her pegasus had taken an enemy attack, which seriously injured her wing. She wanted her beloved pegasus to be healed as quickly as possible. To a pegasus knight, her pegasus was more than just a simple mount. They were invaluable partners whose fates were linked to each other.

“I’ll see you again later, Vanessa.” Syrene parted ways with her sister for the time being, and her pegasus flew off, leading her exhausted unit.

The Renais Army had crossed the bridge and was coming closer. Syrene stopped her pegasus and landed on the ground.

Everyone was injured and bleeding. Their uniforms had been beautiful and stunning when they left home, but now, they looked like they never could have been such dazzling garments. However, each and every one of their faces were lit up like the sun.

Syrene knelt down on one knee before Eirika and bowed her head. “Reporting, Princess Eirika of Renais! The Frelian Army was surprise attacked by the Grado Army, and we regrettably lost most of our soldiers. But only a few of the people of Narube have been killed since the beginning of the attack, and the rest are safe.”

“Good work. All of you please take whatever time you need to recuperate.” 

Eirika’s voice was soft and kind. Just her words alone healed Syrene of her exhaustion.

“Are you alright, Syrene?”

She recognized Prince Innes’ voice, and looked up.

He was standing next to Eirika. Among his dirt-covered army, he stood out as the one refined person. He of course should be tired since he had traveled on a long journey together with the soldiers, but he didn’t show it in the slightest. His clothing looked as if a tailor had just dressed him.

“Lord Innes… I am sorry. The Frelian Army is unable to merge with Renais’ Army. We’ve suffered too much damage, and…”

"Never mind that. None of you have anything you need to worry about. We’ll take it from here.”

His words were reassuring. ‘It appears that Vanessa is not the only one who’s grown up while we were apart.’ She felt that Prince Innes had also become even stronger since the last time they’d seen each other.

‘Perhaps…’ Syrene thought. ‘Vanessa has become more beautiful because of Prince Innes?’ It was difficult for her to imagine Vanessa falling in love with any ordinary man. If he wasn’t a partner that she could respect with all of her heart, then he likely wouldn’t be able to steal it. And If there was any man that Vanessa could respect, it was of course...

“Syrene, do you know any information about the enemy commander?”

Innes asked her in a harsh tone.

Syrene shook her head. “There is a fort on the other side of the river. The enemy commander is using it as a base. I heard that it appears to be Prince Lyon leading the army. I have not been able to confirm that myself, but that is what my subordinates reported.”

“Hmm… Do you know anything about Prince Lyon? ...No wait, nevermind.” In a move that was entirely unlike him, Innes hesitated and changed his words. “Asking won’t change anything. For now, Syrene, please get healed, and return quickly to the battlefront. We still need your power.”

“Yes, Your Majesty!”

He seemed worried about Prince Lyon for some reason, but knowing that she and her soldiers were living up to the prince’s expectations made Syrene happy. The pegasus knights had survived their long, grueling fight, retreated for the time being, and were healed by Natasha and the other healers.

“Leave the front line to us. We’ll defend the northern bridge.” Ephraim said and charged his horse straight north. 

His loyal knights Forde and Kyle led his other soldiers and followed after him.

Eirika went with Seth and the others to save the citizens. The group totaled a few dozen men and women huddling together and shaking. Eirika talked to each of them individually to encourage them, helped the injured atop her horse, and led them to a safe place.

Eirika worked as hard as she could, trying not to think about anything she did not need to. But every so often, she would remember that wicked voice. Whenever she thought about Lyon and the pain the Demon King had caused him, she couldn’t stand the feeling she felt. 

‘I ate his heart.’ Or so the Demon King said. If she accepted his words literally, then Lyon’s heart was already gone, and his body entirely controlled by the Demon King. She did not want to believe that such a terrifying thing could be reality.

It had been for only just a moment, but she'd heard Lyon scream. “Run away…” He’d pleaded with all his might. “I’ll destroy you…” There was no way that could have been the Demon King’s voice.

Lyon’s heart had yet to be completely consumed. He'd nearly suppressed the Demon King’s consciousness, and was continuing to just barely manage to fight. He was struggling as hard as he could to remain in control. And that was why they had to press forward. They had to defeat the Demon King and restore his heart.

But on the other hand of that thought, the Demon King's last words weighed heavily on her heart. Ephraim told her not to worry about them, yet she couldn't help but think about them.

Kill Prince Ephraim, and claim Princess Eirika. The Demon King said that was Lyon's desire. A kind man like Lyon shouldn't have such a twisted and ambitious desire… or so she wanted to think, but her heart was no longer sure.

As Lyon was a sickly person, Ephraim had always been the object of his admiration. In situations like when Ephraim was praised by Duessel, or he won a match against a senior knight, Lyon would cheerfully say "You really are amazing, Ephraim!" Those were words of wonder and amazement.

At the time, Eirika didn't think much of it, and just took his words at face value. ...There hadn’t been any warped feelings hiding underneath that adoration, right? He thought Ephraim was amazing… and wanted to be Ephraim… but he couldn’t. Those feelings of inferiority hadn’t turned into jealousy, had they?

“Lady Eirika, we have finished leading the people to safety.” Seth reported.

The pegasus knights had also finished receiving their treatment, and were awaiting Eirika’s orders. Now was not the time to be guessing what was within Lyon’s heart. She had orders to give as her army’s commander.

“Let’s go! We will take the fort across the river and capture Prince Lyon!” Eirika hesitated for a moment, then added, “You must not kill him! We still have a lot of questions for him.”

Syrene and her pegasus knights immediately accepted the order and all flew up into the sky at once. The pegasi had all been healed alongside their riders, and their energy was restored. They flapped their white wings at full strength.

Seth looked up at the pegasus knights and said, “Lady Eirika, I understand how you feel, but Prince Lyon is already…”

“...I know.” She cut off the rest of his sentence, not wanting to hear it.

He looked straight at her. "Our enemy introduced himself as the Demon King. We still do not know whether he truly is or not, but if he is, then this is very serious. Even if we fight him at full strength, we still might not win.”

“...You're right.”

“It’s a shame that his heart is in chaos on the outside, but…”

“I know. I’ll be fine, Seth. I’m prepared to fight him.” Eirika nodded with conviction.

She couldn’t make Seth worry, and so she spoke those words to him immediately. In truth, she still didn’t know. Would she be able to turn her sword against him?

Eirika maneuvered her horse to the front line, where Ephraim's group was fighting. She shook off her hesitation and gradually picked up speed.

A harsh battle was unfolding on the northern bridge. Grado dragon knights attacked from the sky, making the fight difficult for Ephraim and his soldiers, but the pegasus knight unit rushed to their side, and started to change their situation bit by bit.

Pegasi were of a smaller build than dragons, but were utterly fearless. They flew bravely at the enemies' chests, and threw them into confusion. Once the dragon unit's movements had broken out into a panic, Innes and Neimi shot arrows straight at them. The arrows flew through the dragon's wings. Their cries pierced the sky, and their riders lost their balance and fell into the river.

Once Eirika's army finally captured the bridge, they used that momentum to continue moving east. They could now see the fort the enemy was using as their base.

"He's in there, right?!" Ephraim asked when Eirika rode up next to him.

Eirika noticed that her brother refused to refer to Lyon by name.

Perhaps Ephraim felt just as lost as Eirika, and that was why he was purposely avoiding referring to Lyon by name. If he said it aloud, it might dull his resolve to fight, no matter what else he did.

The enemy was waiting for them outside of the fort. Eirika's army shifted into a fan formation and surrounded the Demon King.

He had a cruel smile on his face, and waited calmly for them. He no longer seemed to have any interest in pretending to be human. His facial features were clearly Lyon's, but his expressions did not feel human at all.

'That's not Lyon… such a wicked, cold stare could never be Lyon's.' Eirika told herself. But she still could not rid herself of her hesitation, rather, she tried to find if Lyon was left anywhere in his face.

"...So you intend to challenge me?" The Demon King asked. 

The chilling sound of his voice made Eirika's horse tremble so hard she could not calm her.

"You are all so lucky to not yet know my true terror…”

"Get out of Lyon's body!!" Ephraim roared.

Eirika jumped. His voice was filled with an intense anger that she had never once heard come from him in her entire life.

Ephraim did not fear the Demon King, although perhaps it was more accurate to say that he was so infuriated by someone hurting Lyon that he forgot how afraid he was. 

Ephraim's powerful voice boosted the morale of Eirika's army, but the Demon King met Ephraim's anger by laughing at him.

"It's not healthy to make your blood boil, prince of Renais. Don't you get it? Prince Lyon and everything about him is no more. I ate him. This body is no longer his.”

"Damn you…!" Ephraim raised his lance, and his soldiers each readied their own weapons. The archers and mages behind them also prepared themselves to support them.

But the Demon King’s spell was faster. Its waves rippled through the air, and a split second after, a horse collapsed.

Eirika looked over at them and felt fear send a chill down her spine. The neck of the fallen horse was turning in unnatural directions as if a huge, invisible hand was twisting it.

“Nosferatu…?!” Lute gasped. As someone so confident, it was entirely unlike her, but even she was panicking. “Please be careful! That is an extremely powerful dark magic. If you take a direct hit, then…!”

The army’s movements fell into chaos. The terrified horses burst out into a full gallop and tried to shake off their riders. Only Seth, Forde, and a few others managed to keep control of their horses, while the other knights all clung desperately to their horses’ necks.

The Demon King cast another spell. Another horse fell down. 

The army was in a panic trying to rush outside of the spell’s range, but among them, Eirika was doing the opposite, and pushing ahead. 

Seth and Ephraim noticed her and rushed over to her, flustered. They stood behind her, ready to protect her, as she faced the Demon King.

His expression changed, sharp eyes narrowing in satisfaction.

Eirika tightened her grip around her horse's reins. Her horse stopped shaking, the strength of her resolve seeming to communicate with her mount.

"Can you hear me, Lyon?" Eirika said and stared straight into the Demon King's eyes. 

"It's useless!!" Ephraim shouted and tried to stop her, but she paid him no mind and continued.

"You're in there, aren't you, Lyon? Please do not abandon hope. We will defeat the Demon King and save you… so please, don't give in…"

The Demon King's expression shook ever so slightly. He furrowed his brow and glared at Eirika. "Pitiful girl… You still believe that there is any of Lyon's heart within this body? How fascinating. Then come here. I will tear you apart limb from limb with these very hands…"

"Get away from him, Eirika!" Ephraim shouted and kicked his horse's side. Seth followed after him a second later.

Ephraim thrust his lance with a sharp battle cry. The Demon King narrowly dodged a fatal blow, but blood sprayed out from his shoulder. Seth followed up without a moment's delay, thrusting his own lance. 

The Demon King flailed his arm around wildly, but there was no power in his movements.

"Support Ephraim! Archers, step forward!" Innes ordered, and swiftly shot an arrow of his own. 

His silver arrow pierced deep into the Demon King's chest.

'Stop!' Eirika tried to scream. 'If you kill him, then Lyon's heart will die, too!!'

The Demon King staggered, but his eyes did not lose the intensity within them. "This little is too much…? The human body is so frail." He muttered in annoyance and pulled the arrow out of his chest. Blood flowed from the wound. 

He glared at Eirika with eyes burning like a blazing fire. "I have learned the extent of your power. In this case… I will hasten my resurrection. I will abandon this frail body and return to my true flesh. That is the day when this continent will once again be shrouded in darkness. There is no longer a single place any of you can run to!” He said in a tone not unlike that of one giving a curse, and disappeared.

Ephraim yelled at him, “You’re running away?! Do you really think I’ll let you desecrate Lyon’s body ever again…?!”

Ephraim ordered the soldiers to search the area and turned back towards Eirika. “Are you alright, Eirika?”

“Yes…”

"Don't do anything reckless. You know he's not Lyon. The Lyon we were friends with is already…"

"Brother, I want to believe him. The Demon King says what he does, but Lyon's heart is still alive… he's suffering and waiting for us to save him. I can feel it." Ephraim furrowed his brow. His blue eyes clouded over with hesitation.

He was still suffering, too. Just like she was.

He sighed deeply. "...I understand. Right now, finding him comes first. Eirika, you rest for a bit."

"No, I'm going to search too…"

"Your face is terribly pale. You've pushed yourself past your limit. L'Arachel, could you please take care of her?"

L'Arachel was standing near him, so he called her over. 

Eirika went into a tent with L'Arachel, deciding that she would take a short rest.

ー

[deepgentlemenchild]

Decided to post something I guess, a trashy bakudeku angst lol

Kirishima and Kacchan had started dating over the summer holidays and everyone had been overjoyed at the news. Everyone but Izuku. Under normal circumstances he would be thrilled that his classmates found love and comfort with one another. But these weren't normal circumstances and Izuku definitely wasn't thrilled. If anything Izuku was heartbroken, horrified and overwhelmingly resentful. Izuku wouldn't usually be so selfish, normally he would move on and let them be happy. But that's kinda hard when your so in love with someone that when you find out it's undoubtedly unrequited you contract the

hanahaki disease. If you don't know what hanahaki is it's a disease that suffocates your lungs by growing flowers in them and you can only get it if the person you love doesn't love you back. There is only three options to choose from once you contract the disease, option one is getting the flowers surgically removed, but it also removes all your memories of the person, so obviously not something Izuku can do considering he is who he is because of Katsuki.Option two is them loving you back, which is a no go with the whole Kirishima thing. The last option is probably the simplest, which is dying. Now Izuku doesn't necessarily want to die, but it's better than forgetting Kacchan, he loves Kacchan with his whole being and simply can't willingly choose to forget him, and there's no way of Kacchan loving him back so he really doesn't have any other options. All he can do is pretend to be happy for the new couple and hide his life threatening disease from everyone, can't be too hard.

So remember how Deku said it can't be too

hard to pretend to be happy for Kacchan and Kirishima whilst also pretending to not be dying. Yeah, well, he forgot to mention he and Kacchan had become best friends again and Kacchan spared no details when talking about Kirishima.One night while he had been coughing his lungs out Kaminari had walked passed his door and checked on him like the caring friend/classmate he is. "Hey Midobro, you alright in there?" He asked concerned after he knocked.A few seconds passed by before Izuku admitted defeat and let Kaminari in. "H-hey Kaminari-kun," he rasped with the ghost of a smile on his lips. Kaminari looked around the dorm room, seeing all the flower petals floating around. "Oh Mido," he said sadly as he pulled the boy into a bone crushing hug.

Weeks go by and Denks is still the only classmate who knows about Izukus condition, after Denks constant insistence Izuku finally told Aizawa sensei and his mum, but absolutely refused to tell any other peers. Denks and Izuku were doing everything together from walking to and from the classroom to hanging out whenever they had spare time. "Hey Deku," Kacchan started and Izuku nodded to show he listening "Do you wanna hang out tomorrow?" Before Kacchan had finished speaking Izuku was already shaking his head. "Sorry Kacchan, but me and Denks are going watch the new All Might movie tomorrow." Izuku apologizes.

"You're spending all your free time with that dumbass, when can we hang out again?" Kacchan asked irritably.

Izuku shrugged, "Maybe later, anyway I gotta get going me and Denks are having a sleepover." Izuku beamed and Kacchan rolled his eyes before going to sit with Kirishima on the common room couch. "ZUZU!!" Denks exclaimed excitedly. "You're hereeee."

Izuku giggled lightly. "Of course I'm here Denks, I wouldn't miss it for the world."

"Except maybe for a certain "Kacchan" hmm?" Denks waggled his eyebrows.Izuku blushed and puffed his cheeks indignantly before bursting into a coughing fit. "Oh, shit. Sorry Zu." Denks looked upset with himself as he pet Izukus back lightly.

"No no. Don't apologize Denks, besides Kacchan asked to hangout tomorrow and I said no cuz we've already got plans," huffed

Izuku once he could open his mouth with flowers falling out.

"Gasp. The world truly is changing. But even

so it's only cuz it's to do with All Might." Denks retorted.

"Humph." Izuku pouted.

Denki laughed at the adorable display before turning on his switch so the could play Mario Cart. As the night dragged Izuku only had a total of two

coughing fits more and even won a few races. Denki had noticed a certain spikey haired blonde glaring at him when he was hanging out with Zuzu at school and in the dorms, but he couldn't figure it out. Maybe Bakubro was upset that Denki had stolen his best friend which wasn't unlikely, or something completely different. Denki decided not to confront Bakubro about or even ask Zuzu what he thought of it because he thought he was overthinking it and maybe Bakubro glaring at him was normal.

Izuku was sat on his bed without Denks for the first time in over two weeks and was really missing the comforting pats on the back as he coughed his lungs out staring at the stunning red petals that matched Kacchans eyes like nothing else. If it weren't for the fact that the flowers were killing him he would call them beautiful, but considering they were killing him he'd rather call them stunningly evil. Izukus coughs became horrid, each one making his whole body tremor and more and more tears fell out the corner of his eyes and dropped onto the petals littering his bed. "I'm so sorry Kacchan. I'm so sorry mum, Denki, All Might, Aizawa sensei. I'm so sorry everyone." Izuku whispered out into the night not knowing if he would last much longer.

The next day Izuku avoided Kacchan like the plague, even going as far as to swap seats with Kirishima so he could sit further away from him. Denks kept giving him pittying looks from where he sat, knowing his best bud didn't have much longer. Everyone in class knew something was wrong with Izuku but didn't mention it so as not to upset him. As the day went on Izuku found it harder and harder to keep his coughs in and even harder to stay away from Kacchan.

After almost coughing in class Izuku decided it was finally time he went to the nurses office. When Recovery Girl saw who it was she almost rolled her eyes. "What is it this time? Another broken bone?" She asked sarcastically. Izuku could only weakly shake his head before he started none stop coughing petals, but mainly whole flowers up. Recovery Girls eyes changed from annoyed to immense concern almost immediately. She quickly guided Izuku on a bed so he could sit down. After a couple of minutes Izuku finally stopped coughing and looked up at Recovery Girl sadly. "I-i don't think I have long left Recovery Girl." Izuku admitted as tears rolled down his cheeks.

"Oh you silly boy." She shook her heard remorsefully. "You can still do the surgery you know? As long as you do it in the next twenty four hours, otherwise you're a true goner."

"I-i can't do that to Kacchan." Izuku whispered.

"Ok then love, is there anyone you want me to call so you can go home." Recovery Girl asked.

Izuku shook his head, "Can you bring Denks though," he requested instead. He didn't want his mother seeing him like this, it would make her sad and he didn't want to see her sad. Recovery Girl nodded and went to Aizawas classroom to grab Denki.

When she got to the classroom she knocked softly on the door. "Yes? What is it?" Aizawa asked through the door. Recovery Girl opened the door before speaking. "Izuku asked me get someone named Denks," she announced.

As soon as Denki heard Izukus name he shot his head up and after hearing the rest of it he jumped out of his seat and quickly made his way to the nurses office. Everyone else in the class looked perplexed besides Aizawa and Bakugo. Aizawa looked solemn where as Bakugo looked angry.

"Denks you came," Izuku spoke softly yet excitedly once he saw Denki burst through the door.

"Zu, baby. Of course I came." Denks said seriously as tears gathered in his eyes. Izuku smiled at him, though not nearly as bright as before but still as contagious as Denki smiled back sadly. They stared at each other for a long while, no words could be spoken to lessen either of their pain. The silence was eventually broken by Denki, who carefully embraced Izuku "you know Zuzu, I love you. More than anything. Your my bestest friend and the last few weeks have been the happiest of my life." Denki exclaimed as he cried the hardest he's ever cried.

"Oh, Denki. I love you too and I couldn't be happier to have you as my best friend. But you need to move on, make a new best friend. Kiris really nice." Izuku replied even softer than before. Denki just shook his head and cried harder. "I'm calling Bakugo." He announced. Izuku shook his head.

"Denki, please don't. I don't want him to feel guilty." Izuku pleaded. Denki ignored him in favour of pulling out his phone and tapping on Bakugos contact. It rang a total of three time before Bakugo picked up. "Pikachu, what's wrong with Deku?" He asked immediately. Denki shook his head, these idiots. "He's in the nurses office, come quick." Denki answered urgently before hanging up.

"He does care about you, you know that right? He may not love you like you love him but he truly cares about you." Denki finally addressed Izuku. Izuku looked away from him with more tears gathering in his eyes. Less thank two minutes had passed before Bakugo burst through the door with a panicked look on his face. Once his eyes met Deku they instantly filled with tears. "Izuku." He said softly before hugging him tightly. He looked into Izukus as if questioning him. Asking him who? Izuku looked him straight in his beautiful red eyes before kissing him straight on the lips. All of 5 seconds passed before Kacchan reciprocated and another 5 before Izuku went limp in his arms. At least I finally kissed him. Izuku thought before leaving his body to moving towards the light as tears blocked his vision.

[since0202]

Chapter 30: Sunrise

Grace woke up much earlier the next morning than intended. The sun was just starting to rise above the water and it was just before 7 a.m. She was cradled in both of Jacob’s arms now as they faced each other, their legs tangled together in the white cotton bed sheets. 

His breath was even and smooth and she took a moment to admire how soft his features looked when he was asleep. A smile creeped across her lips and then as quickly as it came, it flitted away as the realization dawned on her—this felt more intimate than any moment she had had with Paul whether she had been sleeping next to him or having sex with him. 

She felt so close to Jake and the fear started rising in her again. So, she gently extracted herself from his embrace and made her way to the bathroom. Closing the door behind her, she marvelled at the beautifully renovated bathroom with cool black stone beneath her feet and white ceramic and marble laid into the walls. Grace couldn’t help but try out her rain shower and spent a solid 15 minutes just standing under the heat of the water trying to ease the swell of want in her body that was pulling her back toward the sleeping Jacob. 

She dressed quietly in some loose, short shorts and a beige t-shirt boasting Phoenix’s desert museum that she had nicked from Bella’s closet. With one last look at the massive sleeping form of Jacob sprawled across her bed, she made her way downstairs and brewed a cup of coffee before taking it on the porch to watch the sun come up. 

She didn’t know how long she was out there for, but her cup was drained and the sun was clear above the horizon when Jacob walked out onto the porch with a low “good morning” the sleep not yet gone from his voice. 

Grace looked over her shoulder but didn’t move as she returned the greeting. 

“Sleep okay?” He said coming to lean on the porch railing. 

“Yeah, you?” 

“Best sleep I’ve had all week,” he said, giving her a heartbreaking smile. 

“Happy to help,” she quipped, standing straight now. He mirrored her movements. They didn’t speak for a while but finally, she heard Jake take a breath and say, 

“Grace….about the call. The one when you were in Florida...I–” Jake started, rubbing the nape of his neck. But Grace didn’t want to talk about the call. Her eyes pulled up the length of his body and as they rested on his uncertain but clearly wanting face, she felt the sharp pull in her stomach demand something. Her resolve buckled as she watched his brows knit together in worry and confusion. She wanted to smooth that worry and her hands itched to touch him. 

The ache in her stomach reared its head, not to be ignored this time. Enough was enough. 

“Grace...I want—” Jake started again and as he turned his body to look at her, the trap inside of Grace snapped. 

She took the two steps toward him across the porch and threw her arms around his neck, pulling at his neck to bend him to her in one swift movement. She brought his lips crashing down onto hers and instantly her body swelled with anticipation to his reaction. She gently parted her lips to him and at this he returned the kiss eagerly, wrapping his broad hands around her back and pulling her up and onto him. 

The ache in her stomach disappeared and was replaced with sweet, full, warmth. Her body was overcome with a rushing sensation and as she held onto him, she felt everything so clearly, the taste of his lips on hers, her heartbeat pounding in time with his. Recognition spilled through her and settled in every crevice of her body as it exhaled in one wild breath saying: Jacob. 

They pulled away from each other for a half a second to let out labored breaths and stare at each other's eyes. Their bodies called out to one another, asking to get closer and closer. But more than that, Grace knew in this moment what she’d known all along and the message was clear in his eyes:

She loved him. With every ounce of her being. She felt her entire body tingle with adoration for this sweet, kind, overwhelmingly warm and captivating boy that stood in front of her. As she brought her hand to his face, he gave her a broad smile that made her entire body weak before he pulled her face to him again, warm and ready. 

He lifted her body up and set her down on the railing so he could easily access her mouth as he cupped his hands around her face, pulling back ever so slightly to pepper her mouth cheeks and nose with soft kisses. The sun sparkled over her shoulder illuminating every feature of his face and Grace traced her finger down the angled line of his chin. 

“Oh, I’ve been waiting for that,” He exhaled, his voice deep and wanting. “Was this what you were trying to tell me on the phone?”

She nodded her head and he let out a low laugh before leaning back into her for another taste of her lips. 

The next three weeks passed in absolute bliss for Grace. They were the happiest she could remember in recent memory. Jake spent most nights at her home when he wasn’t on rounds or training the new members of the pack.

He’d walk through the open door and beeline it for her as she was bent over a task in her office, cooking in the kitchen, or reading on couch and scoop her up in his arms, pressing his face to hers sweetly before carrying her off to her bedroom or down to the beach just to be together, relishing in the electric, warm feeling that pulsed through each of them when they connected. She was his answer to a question he was too afraid to ask the universe. At one point he had said as they lay together nearly naked in bed, running a slow finger down her side, “How can this not be an imprint? It feels like there’s no one else but you.”  

Grace had asked that they take it slow. Despite how happy she felt even now, she couldn’t shake the fear of the imprint. Jake didn’t belong to her, but she felt so undeniably tethered to him that it felt unfair that she wasn’t his imprint. That thought scared her everyday and each happy moment was overshadowed by the knowledge that his imprint was out there somewhere, waiting for him. 

He had agreed to take it slow, but each day Grace felt closer and closer to him and it became harder to stop themselves from wanting more of each other. One sunny morning after late night rounds, Jake lay asleep in her bed, shirtless and peaceful. Grace checked her phone and listened to a voicemail from Alice that had come in last night.

“Hello, Gracie! This is your friendly neighborhood vampire reminder that we’re having a brainstorming session tomorrow morning at my place for Bella’s dress and wedding theme. Your presence, as always is required, bright and early at 9 a.m. See you!” and then in the background just before she hung up, Grace could hear Alice squeal with delight and say: “Oh! I’m so excited, a wedding!” 

Grace smiled and clipped her phone shut as she  rolled out of bed and went to get ready. Before she left for the Cullen’s she leaned down over Jacob and planted a soft kiss on his lips and stroked a hand through his hair. He didn’t stir from sleep and she made her way to the edge of the forest to recast to the Cullen’s property. 

“Okay, so we can either go full woodland nymph, classic and glam, subtle and sweet, victorian chic, or a blend of all four!” Alice cried triumphantly spinning about the room as she made dramatic strokes with her pencil in her sketch pad. 

“Alice, I think something simple would be fine,” Bella said nervously from her place on the couch in Alice’s studio. 

“Simple?! Bella, I don’t do simple,” she replied. Rosalie laughed at this as she delicately patched an old piece of lace. 

“Well, we’ve been at this for four hours and are still no closer to a solid idea,” Bella complained leaning her head against her hand.

“That’s because you’re giving me NOTHING to work with,” Alice said spinning to look directly at her aggressively. 

“What about this,” Grace removed a sucker from her mouth that Alice had given her and showed Bella a dress in a wedding magazine she had been paging through. 

“That could work,” Bella said looking at it more closely. 

“Right? Simple, cute, love the buttons,” Grace continued. 

“You don’t think it’s too low in the back?” Bella said. 

“You have a killer vertebrae babe. Show em if you got em, I always say,” she joked. Bella cracked a smile and ran a finger down the line of the dress. 

“Alice, come look,” Grace beckoned. “Can you design something off of this?” She shook the magazine at her and replaced the cherry red sucker. Alice looked over the page and then with an exuberant smile, nodded. 

“Absolutely! Oh my god, Bella, I didn’t know you were a V’adame!” 

“A what?” Bella said. 

“It’s not important,” Grace shook her head. “Okay, so if we went with this dress, then we go classic, simple, with a touch of woodland nymph?” Alice squealed. 

“It’s all coming together!” she said peeling with tinkling laughter. 

“Good, can I be released?” Bella said. 

“Rude, but yes,” Alice said. “Thank you for brainstorming, I’ll send you mock ups as soon as I’m satisfied!” 

“I’m coming with,” Grace said pushing herself off the couch and grabbing her bag. She leaned over to give Rosalie a hug and took Bella’s hand as they skipped down the steps. 

“Done planning for the day?” Carlisle queried as he walked past them. 

“We’re escaping before the tulle comes out,” Bella said with an exhausted sigh. 

“Well, Alice always knows how to throw a party.” He nodded goodbye and walked off to his library. 

Once they were outside and in Bella’s truck, Grace turned to her quickly and said, “I’ve been making out with Jacob Black for the past three weeks.” 

Bella missed the key to the ignition and jerked forward a bit before stuttering, “Wh-what?!” 

“He sleeps over almost every night too.” Grace bit her lip. 

“Wow.” 

“I’ve wanted to tell you since the first day it happened, I just….didn’t know how?” 

“Wow.” 

‘Can you say something else?” Grace whined. 

“Woah.” Bella said and then she laughed. Grace hit her arm playfully and then covered her face with her hands. “Grace that’s great!” 

“Really!? You don’t think it’s weird or hypocritical or like a really really bad idea?” her face pulled with worry. 

“Oh no, I didn’t say that.” Bella teased to an aghast Grace. “No, really. That’s amazing! Are you guys...dating? Together? Official? Getting married?” Grace narrowed her eyes at that last one, “Kidding!” Bella followed up. 

“Who knew you were such a jokester,” Grace grumbled as Bella started the truck and started making her way up the Cullen’s drive to the street. “I don’t know what we’re doing. I guess we’re dating, but I said I wanted to take it slow and it’s….it’s going really well.” Grace bit her lip again and tried to contain her excitement. 

“Of course it is. Why wouldn’t it? You’re perfect for one another,” Bella smiled happily toward her. Grace sucked in an excited breath and clasped her hands together, relieved that she finally told Bella and getting the greenlight. 

“Thanks, Bells,” Grace said. 

“I’m just happy he has you,” Bella reassured her. 

Bella dropped Grace off at her house before puttering away to meet up with Edward for the afternoon. As Grace jogged her way up her porch steps, a shirtless man came out of her front door equipped with a toolbelt around his waist. 

“Jesus!” Grace said, startled, “Paul what the fuck!” 

Paul gave her a small smile and sign of surrender. “Sorry, I was sanding the porch so I could apply the sealant and needed to pee.” 

Grace tensed and crossed her arms, taking a step backwards down her porch to give herself some space from him. 

“I just didn’t know you would be by today.” Grace said, looking at the ground. 

“Embry was supposed to let you know…. I’m sorry, I meant to be out of here before you got back,” his voice was tinged with regret. “I’ll leave. Sorry.” He said simply jogging down the steps past her and away. 

“Wait!” she groaned turning around, but he was already gone. She was not expecting Paul to be at her home, alone when she showed back up. While she was reveling in her newfound attachment to Jacob, Paul still left a small hole in her heart that was still healing. And what was worse, when she went into her living room, his tantalizing scent was still lingering in the air. 

She shook out the pain pricking in her hands and went to take a cold shower, hoping to wash away the guilt and hunger she felt swirling in her. 

“So he just left?” Grace adjusted her sunglasses and retired the hair scarf she had tied into a bow on the top of her head as she laid back on her towel on the beach next to Leah. 

“Yeah,” Grace replied checking again that her tan bikini top was in place. 

“Sounds like he’s still got the hots for you. Imprint be damned,” Leah only said this half seriously and as digging through their cooler for a snack. “Shit bags,” she muttered. 

“What?” Grace turned her head to look at Leah in her black strappy one piece slamming the cooler lid down. 

“You fucking woodland rejects ate all of the sandwiches!” She yelled in the direction of a collection of boys playing volleyball down the beach. Grace couldn’t pinpoint exactly who it was from their pack and who were just local kids, but they all stopped at Leah’s shouting for a minute before breaking into raucous laughter. 

“Leah, it’s fine we can go get more food…” Grace tried to placate her. Leah laid back down on her towel next to Grace in a huff. 

“I’m doomed to live in a glorified playpen with hairy teenage boys and my ex-boyfriend for the rest of my life.” she bemoaned. Grace let out a snort of amusement. 

“Ditto.” 

“Sorry, you were saying?” Leah said, turning her head to look at Grace now. Grace looked up at the sky and let out a dramatic sigh. 

“I don’t know what else there is. It was just weird.” 

“Do you...still have feelings for Paul?” 

“What?! No. I mean, we were together for like 2 months tops but...it just felt weird being alone with him. And it just still bugs me...like what would we be if the imprint hadn’t happened?” Grace pursed her lips for a second, “It’s stupid because it has happened so it doesn’t make sense to think about, I know.”

“No..” Leah said softly. “I think about that all the time. About Sam.” she paused. “We haven’t been together for almost three years, but I still think about it. It still hurts. And watching every other fucking dweeb around here imprint makes it seem like the world is playing some cruel joke on me.” 

“Leah, you can imprint. I know you can.” Grace reassured her. 

“Do you?” Leah said skeptically, and Grace leaned up on her elbows looking directly at her now. “Because even Ti’Hal has expressed some doubt.” Leah started to pick at loose strings on her towel. 

“I don’t believe that. Leah, you have the gene, why couldn’t you?” Grace said back defensively. 

“There’s never been a female shifter before in our histories. I’m an anomaly, which means things might not work the same. And so far, the theory holds true.” Grace shook her head as Leah continued, “What about you? How is it fair to you? You're bound to this pack indefinitely, to protect, to die for us even if need be according to Ti’Hal,” Grace sucked in a sharp breath. She knew that was true. “But you can’t imprint and no one has imprinted on you. All of the work with none of the perks. You can’t tell me our ancestors aren’t laughing at us right now.” 

Grace flinched against the sharp pain coiling in her stomach. Leah was echoing the sentiment that had been building and building in Grace these past three weeks: he’s not your imprint, he’s going to leave eventually. Grace was swinging between constant fear and anxiety at the thought and she knew it would break her down soon. 

“They might be laughing, but I still have some say,” Grace said before they were interrupted by someone clearing their throat and shading half of Grace’s sun. Grace lifted a hand above her eyes to get a better look. 

Three men had gathered around their spots. They weren’t from the rez as made clear by their tanned pink skin and blonde and light brown hair. One wore a wetsuit pulled down to his hips. The other two wore swim trunks and were dripping from a recent dip in the ocean. 

“Ladies, we were hoping you could be our fourth and fifth for a little impromptu pick up game of football on the beach?” The tallest one with the sandy blonde hair and ashen grey eyes thumbed over his shoulder. Leah grinned wickedly and Grace knew the time was ticking until a member of the pack would see and interfere. 

“Yeah, you can be on my team,” the brown haired one said to Grace as he looked up and down her bikinied body. Her tan swimsuit stood out against her deepening brown skin in the sunlight.  

“What do you say?” The blonde’s eyes twinkled in the sunlight as he nodded at Leah. 

“Thanks guys, but we’re enjoying the sun. Next time?” Grace said sweetly. The brunette squatted down next to her so he could get a better look at her face. 

“I’m Noah,” he said, extending a hand. Grace leaned to one side so she could pick up her other arm and shake it. 

“Like the arc,” Grace quipped. He laughed looking down for a second and said:

“Yeah, like the arc. You’re funny.” 

“I try.” she said, cocking her head to the side. This was too much fun and she knew time was running out because the boys had spotted them up the beach and were making their way toward them. 

“These are my boys Ryan and Kelton,” he said over his shoulder. Leah stifled a laugh. 

“Oh, she didn’t ask,” Leah said, taking a sip from her water bottle. Noah raised a questioning eyebrow at her. 

“So what do you say?” he tried again. 

“Like I said before, thanks but no thanks, we’ve got plans.” 

“Oh really? And what plan is that exactly?” 

“Get fucked,” Leah said strongly. 

“Gladly,” the blonde Ryan quipped. 

Grace let out a laugh and turned her head to see Embry and Jared in earshot now. 

“Nice to meet you, Noah,” she nodded at him to get lost and a disappointed frown pulled over his face as he stood. Embry and Jared were on them now. 

“Hey! Is there a problem here?” Jared said. 

“No problem, just saying hello.” Noah deadpanned not taking his eyes off Grace. They headed off down the beach and Grace thought about how easy life would be if she were just a normal teenager not imperiled by the supernatural. It was an attractive idea, one that nestled in her brain and made her long for something she knew she’d never have. 

“You shouldn’t encourage them,” Jared scolded. To this, Embry smacked him on the chest and Leah and Grace both said in unison: 

“Fuck off.” 

[joyful-voyager]

So. New Year’s Eve.

It’s the end of a decade. People are doing retrospectives. Here’s what my decade has been like:

I lost both my mother and my mother-in-law to terminal illnesses. My husband I were the sole caretakers for his mother for most of the last two years of her life. We watched her decline slowly for two years, and then rapidly for one more, before she slipped away in late October of 2016. My mother died slowly for ten years before she suffered a terrible setback in January of 2018, right after we all spent a lovely Christmas together. She passed away in the middle of the night in April of 2018, ten days after I last told her I love her.

I nearly lost my husband to a hospital-caused blood infection after a routine knee surgery in the summer of 2014. It took 3 weeks for the surgeon to agree to admit him again. By then he’d lost 40 pounds and was in excruciating pain. After a second surgery to remove a massive amount of infected cartilage, he has one leg that’s longer than the other by almost an inch and a half. He’ll have to wear a lift in one shoe for the rest of his life or risk permanent hip and spine damage. As it is, he will always walk with a slight limp.

I nearly lost my daughter to a mental health crisis while all three of the above situations were going on. High school was a disaster for her. But she has managed to pull herself together with the help of therapy, good friends, and a boyfriend so kind and supportive that when she told him a couple months ago she was ready to move on without him, he cried a bit, told her he’d always love her ... and let her go. They’re still good friends and talk on the phone at least once a week. (He lives in Europe.) She took a risk and applied to transfer to a small, private university on the opposite side of the country and not only got in, got a massive merit scholarship that’s going to make it possible for her to go. Barely possible, but possible. We’ll be flying out there together in two weeks.

I lost a job I loved with people I still consider friends due to a shortsighted corporate reorganization. We all walked out of the building together, heads held high in spite of the way our VP had treated us in the weeks between the news being given to us in May and our final day in late June of 2019. I still have friends who work for the company. I’m told the place is a disaster. The people doing the work my team and I used to do are inexperienced and difficult to work with. I’m told we are sorely missed, and it’s clear the VP who wanted us gone didn’t know what she was doing by letting us go.

I started a new job on July 22, 2019. I realized I should never have taken the job on July 23, 2019. I’m still there, but I struggle every single day to make it work. It pays well and the commute is a fraction of my old commute ... but it is hard to keep my mouth shut sometimes. The incompetence is incredible, the environment toxic.

I paid off a bunch of old debts, thanks to this better-paying job, and will start 2020 with a much cleaner financial slate than I had at the beginning of 2019 ... just in time to go back into debt putting my daughter through her last 2 years of college.

I watched or listened to virtually every inning of my beloved Chicago Cubs’ historic run in 2016 ... except for the last two innings of the last game of the World Series. That’s right, I missed the actual win. Here’s what happened: Rajai Davis hit that home run in the late innings, and I realized there was no way I could bear to watch my boys lose Game 7 of the World Series. So I went to bed. An while later when my husband came upstairs, I asked him: “How bad was it?” He gasped. “Laura,” he said, “they won. The Cubs won. Oh my god, I thought you were asleep.” He has been kicking himself for not coming upstairs to get me ever since. I’m sad that I missed it, but glad they won it. Because it’s clear Theo Epstein and Jed Hoyer and Tom Ricketts are going piss this legacy away and the 2016 Cubs are going to be The Dynasty that Wasn’t.

A week after the elation of the Cubs victory, I watched in horror as an incompetent, ill-informed electorate put an incompetent, ill-informed racist in the White House. He’s a scumbag. His voters are scumbags. I’m tired of hearing the media bleat about the economic anxiety of the white working class ushering the Orange Asshat into the Oval Office in spite of losing the general election by 3 million votes. The most meaningful part of the phrase “white working class” isn’t “working class,” it’s “white.” And we do our entire population a great disservice by glossing over the fact that the non-white working class voted overwhelmingly for Hillary Clinton. But here’s the terrifying part: He’s going to win again in 2020. I knew it in 2016, and I know it now. There are a lot of racists in this country, and he’s activated every fuzzy-thinking neuron in their tiny racist lizard brains. They will come out in droves again, he’s going to win again, and our democracy is pretty much lost. Losing my mom and mother-in-law and watching my daughter struggle with her mental health were horrible, horrible things that happened this decade. But watching that addle-brained con man strut around on the world stage like a would-be dictator has been no picnic.

I read some pretty good books. The Passage trilogy by Justin Cronin was a slog with a sloppy ending, but what a wild ride. I discovered The Expanse and can’t get enough of those books or the series based on them. I re-read His Dark Materials and started the prequel trilogy, although I haven’t picked up The Secret Commonwealth yet.

I wrote a little fanfic. Not a lot. A bit. I’ll be 50 in July and I kind of feel my best writing is behind me. I could be wrong, of course, and only time will tell. Once my daughter moves out it’s possible I will have the time to find my mojo again. We’ll see. We’ll see.

Here’s to the next decade. The likelihood of losing my remaining parent in the next two years is very high. He’s 88 and not in the best of health, and so very sad without my Mom by his side. They started dating when she was just 16 and married in the summer of 1951. He’s depressed and chronically ill, and I feel I’m going to lose him sooner rather than later. But other than that, I feel like maybe there are good things ahead for me. This last decade has sucked pretty hard, so maybe there’s nowhere to go but up.

Thanks for reading. Happy New Year!

[ironfamtime-blog]

Tony’s 5 Senses

a Tony fix it fic because fuck the russos! This is actually my first fix it fic, and i’m proud of it! feedback is much appreciated!

Inspired by this and this from @ironfamjam

The first thing he tastes is a salty, metallic combination. The kind of combination that usually comes from a heavy workout or from a nasty cold. It’s bitter and disgusting, his mouth feels too dry. Like he hasn’t had water in days, or even weeks. Swallowing hurts and somehow makes the taste of metal in his mouth worse.

The first thing he can smell is the distinctive scent of the medical area. It’s like disinfectant that shouldn’t be as strong as it is. It all smells overwhelmingly sterile. He can smell a hint of something familiar though, although he can’t fully makeout what it is, it’s familiar and comforting.

The first thing he sees when he opens his eyes is the starch white of the ceiling. The too bright lights on the ceiling are practically blinding. He makes a mental note that they should probably change the color of the walls and the intensity of the lights. The combination make him feel like his head is splitting open. They immediately make his head start throbbing in pain, but he can’t find the strength to move his arms to shield his eyes from the harsh lighting and bright white.

The first thing he hears is the sound of feet running. The next is the whoosh of the automatic doors opening. It’s quiet for a moment, the familiar smell from before intensifies now, he can hear quiet breathing and light sniffles. He hears someone yell but he’s too disoriented to make out what they’re saying, and then he hears the door again and someone shouts, but this time he knows who it is. “Daddy!” Is the first thing he hears, he recognises the little girl's voice and he tries to force himself to open his eyes but his eyelids feel too heavy.

The first thing he feels is the weight of a little girl throwing her arms around his upper body. He can feel how wet her cheeks are from crying and it breaks his heart. He tries to lift his right arm but it feels foreign and too heavy, so he forces himself to lift his left arm and hug her back. He can hear sniffles coming from somewhere else in the room and he forces himself to open his eyes. The bright lights come flooding in full force so he blinks to adjust. Then the door opens again and he can hear frantic breathing, like they’d run a marathon.

“Mr. Stark?” It’s a hesitant question and the voice is hoarse and tired. His eyes, finally adjusted to the light and he looks to find Peter standing next to a crying Pepper, both their eyes look like they’ve been rubbed raw from crying. He forces the smallest smile but that’s all it takes for Peter to come hug Tony’s unoccupied side.

He looks at Pepper as she comes over to them, sitting at Tony’s waist where Morgan is clinging to him like her life depends on it.

They stay like that for a while, he doesn’t even realise he’s started to cry until he feels Pepper lean over and wipe his tears away. For the first time in his life, Tony Stark knows what it feels like be wanted, loved and comforted at the same time. He feels the relief pouring off of Pepper and Peter, and he feels Morgan’s love as she excitedly bounces and talks to him. She talks to him about how Peters kept her company and how uncle Rhodey uncle Happy brought her so many cheeseburgers. She talks about how they each think they’re her favourite, even though she could never just have one favourite uncle. He smiles and responds when he can, but he mostly listens, and when she hands him a hand drawn card signed by everyone, he nearly cries.

When Pepper finally drags Morgan out of the time to go eat, he’s left with Peter who hasn’t said much, but Tony knows that he wants to say a whole lot. He hasn’t let go of Tony since he came into the room, he later learned Peter hadn’t even left the med bay for days not wanting to miss Tony waking up.

“I don’t uh, I dunno if you noticed but kinda, got you a new arm.” Is all Peter says once Morgan and Pepper are out of the room. For the first time Tony notices why his arm had felt so weird, he looks to his rights and sees what appears to be the arm of his Iron Man suit, it runs all the way up his right side, infused into his shoulder, the metal looks odd compared to his skin but it feels right. He flexes his fingers and it definitely feels odd, but he doesn’t mind it.

“I’m sorry kid.” He doesn’t need to elaborate, Peter knows why he’s apologising and before Tony can get anything else out Peter is hugging him again and crying. Tony lets himself cry as he hugs Peter. When Peter pulls away, Tony can immediately tell he’s about to launch into story mode.

“I’m really glad you’re back because so much stuff happened that I wanna tell you about! I got to meet The Falcon and I think he hates me because I wouldn’t stop singing Africa, but I think he’s cool! The Winter Soldier was there too! I didn’t even look at him while we were stuck because honestly he kinda scares me but-“ he cuts himself when he hears Tony chuckle.

“I’ve really missed you kid.” Tony pulls Peter into a quick hug before allowing him to continue his story about what had happened while Peter was gone and the few days Tony had been unconscious.

Although the room he’s in is stuffy and too bright and the bed is uncomfortable and he’s happy to be listening to Peter ramble, happy to be able to watch Morgan force her uncles to do things for her in hopes of being her “favourite best uncle.” He’s glad his family is together and safe, albeit in varying stages of hurt but they’re all alive. For the first time in his life, Tony Stark feels at peace, he feels at home surrounded by his family.

[gothamstodd]

White

1940′s!Bucky Barnes x Reader Colors: Part 6

Word Count: 1.5k+

Summary: In which the color looks brighter than ever.

Warnings: None!

Author’s Note- I honestly hope I get someone to cry with this chapter (happy tears, HAPPY TEARS, because I almost cried writing it lol). There’s only one more part after this, then probably an epilogue so hey!! I worked really hard on this series so I would love love love to hear what you guys think of it so far!

Masterlist | Ask Box | Taglist

Blue | Red | Violet | Black | Gold | White | Green | Epilogue

1944

The scent of coffee filled your nose, a newspaper lay under your hand unread, a mug filled with the cause of the aroma surrounding you sitting in front of you untouched. Your eyes traveled over the ladies around you, you wondered how many of them were thinking about their husbands or fiances, their sons or their brothers. And how many of them couldn’t be bothered, maybe they thought of work, or the news as they read it, maybe they thought of the weather, or of their children, a few talked to their friends as they sat with their breakfast or their coffee.

There was so much gray at that cafe. The ladies mostly wore black and white, the coffee cups, the newspapers, and the buildings all matched them, along with the overcast sky and the tables in front of you. You almost felt out of place in the blue dress you wore.

It was too quiet, almost in tandem with the lack of color. No paperboy stood on the corner shouting headlines, no mother walked the streets with a screaming child. The cars on the street passed almost silently, as if they were too exhausted to announce their arrival. The world seemed unbelievably still. The Brooklyn streets suddenly seemed to move like molasses. The world looked empty, and tired.

You took a deep breath as you thought about how dull everything was, beginning to look around desperately for some kind of vibrance, and some type of life.

The sweet smell of pancakes joined the aroma of coffee, and you watched as a waitress bought two plates of shortstacks to two women sitting at breakfast together. A flower sat in the vase between them, though you barely managed to notice its’ violet color. You looked up to the sky, searching for sunlight, waiting for it to break through the overcast sky and stream down on the cafe- it didn’t. Finally, you looked back down, staring straight at the table Bucky had been sitting at the day he first talked to you. You wondered if maybe they’d moved it sometime since, or if perhaps you were thinking of the wrong table.

It didn’t matter much, the fond memory came to your mind anyways. Maybe the world wasn’t too incredibly dull- not if something like that could happen to someone like you. Of course Bucky was always telling you he couldn’t believe you were still single when he finally worked up the courage to talk to you, he always said you were way out of his league, and he could never believe you chose to stick with him, you were a ‘catch’, he’d say. But you always thought he was too bright for you, too vibrant, a color you wouldn’t dare to be around to dull. Still, there was no staying away from that color you loved.

You turned your eyes to your newspaper, finally resolving to at least check out a few of the headlines.

“Hey, doll.” A familiar voice interrupted your reading and caused your heart to nearly jump out of your chest, “What are you reading?”

You jumped up from your chair and immediately turned to face him, tears already pricking at the corners of your eyes. “Bucky…” You whimpered.

You threw your arms around his neck, breathing in the scent of his uniform. You held onto him tight, pulling him close as you possibly could. And you just held each other, feeling your bodies slotted against one another for the first time in ages. 

You just held each other and watched the colors show up, the cornflower blue of your dress, the bright scarlet of the rouge painted on ladies lips, the purple of the tiny flowers sitting in the cloudy vases at the cafe tables, the olive green of Bucky’s uniform. You just held each other and let yourselves remember the feeling, remember the warmth, the comfort, the memory of being at home finally, at home in each other's arms. You just held each other, and didn’t bother to care that people stared at you. You just held each other, so tightly that maybe your joints would begin to ache when you finally let go of one another. You held on to each other as if it was the only thing keeping you from falling to your deaths.

“I love you.” You cried into his shoulder, “God, I missed you so much.”

“I love you too.” He said into your hair, tears streamed down his cheeks, he breathed you in, the scent of the soap you used almost bringing him back to the apartment you shared. “I missed you too.” He continued, voice coming out sloppy, words running together because he didn’t bother to annunciate.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt? Why did they let you go home?”

“I’m okay, I’m okay.” He answered quickly, “They let me go on leave because I complained enough. And there were a few special circumstances.” He chuckled.

“Okay.” You breathed.

“Okay.” He replied.

“Okay.” You said again almost unsure whether you were laughing in relief or simply crying.

“Okay.” He echoed again.

You decided to ask him the question you dreaded the answer to, “When do you have to go back?” You sniffled, head still buried in his shoulder as you held on to each other.

“I leave mid-day tomorrow.” He said. “But you and I are gonna make the most of every second that I’m here. I swear to you.”

“Okay.” You said once more, nodding quickly. “Okay.”

“Okay.” He laughed weakly.

“How did you know I’d be here?” You asked quietly, you knew more questions would come spilling out as soon as you started to ask them, but you were okay with that.

“I checked home first and you weren’t there so I asked the neighbors if they knew where you went-”

“Their names are Anne and Henry. Jeez Bucky, how many times do I have to tell you before you remember?” A smile came to your lips at his antics.

“I remembered, I just elected not to use the names.” Watery laughter escaped both of you. “Anyways, so I asked our elderly neighbors, Anne and Henry, and they said you went to breakfast. Naturally, I knew exactly where that was.” He smiled as he pressed a kiss to the crook of your neck.

You shook your head, “And you just had to use your famous pick up line?”

“Exactly.”

“I love you so much.” You lifted your head to finally look into his eyes. The familiar blue eyes you caught yourself drowning in again and again.

“I love you too.” He replied. The words weren’t enough for him, he’d have to say it to you a thousand more times for it to add up to even a sliver of what he felt for you. “I love you so so much.”

He leaned forward and kissed you with so much fire you could’ve sworn you got a little bit dizzy, not caring that an old lady gasped loudly at your racey show of affection. You giggled against each other’s lips at her reaction. You suddenly felt the vibrance of being around him again, the youth, and the unmistakable spark in your heart.

“Hey let’s get married.” Bucky pulled away and shook his head, “Let’s get married right now, at city hall. I can’t stand another minute not being your husband. Let’s get married.” He said.

“I- I don’t have dress.” You sputtered.

“Pick the first white dress you find in your closet, we can put a towel on your head for a veil for all I care.” He laughed.

You frowned, “What about rings?”

“Don’t you have your grandparents’ old rings somewhere?” He asked.

“Yeah, I guess I do.” You shrugged, “In a box in my underwear drawer, I think.” You giggled.

“Let’s get married. What do you say?”

“Okay.” You nodded, and kissed him again. “Yes.” 

You both cried, shining grins adorning your faces.

Soft white fabric between his fingers. Holding you. Happiness; overwhelming happiness. A plunging neckline and a long white skirt.

“You’re beautiful.” He shook his head with a disbelieving chuckle and said it again, “You are so beautiful.”

He carried you bridal style into a shabby and dimly lit apartment. Even with the shades pulled open, barely any light filtered onto the old record player, the piles of worn out books he’d read at least two times over each, or the wobbling dining table that barely stood on three and a half legs. It didn’t matter. This place was home. You were his home.

Any place would count as home, as long as you were in his arms.

“We’re married.” You said giddily, the grin unable to leave your face.

“We’re married.” He echoed, the beam on his face matching yours.

“I love you.” You both said in unison, followed by giggles. Nothing would bring you down now. You had until noon the next day to not have to let go of one another, to stay completely intertwined with each other, to be overwhelmingly, impossibly ecstatic, and you were going to be.

Read part seven here!

I would love to hear what you guys think so far!

@fuckthatfeeling

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[honeylikewords]

kaaaaatieeeeeee i wanna hear....about davey and his honey’s lil cubbies..... ;^)

aaaaaaaaamberrrrrrrr i’m gonna tell you about it Right Now

Everyone knows that, for David, his children are the most important thing in the world. They are his pride and joy, his wonderment and his fulfillment. Everything about them makes him so overwhelmingly happy, and the endless depths of love he feels for them is truly special.

One of his favorite things he would do when his children were just babies would be to carry the little ones in his arms, walking around with them and talking to them in a soft whisper as he rocks them back and forth. He loved feeling their tiny heads resting in the cup of his palm, his fingers softly brushing their downy hairs, watching their little eyes and knowing that they can understand him.

Every time his babies would smile at him, he couldn’t help but grin back, then lean in to give them a loving kiss on the chubby cheek or soft forehead. Their little smiles, the way their eyes would turn upwards under the press of their cheeks, their giggles bubbling out-- he just couldn’t resist pouring out all of his love! They’re too darling!

With his firstborn son, David was very careful, nearly treating the baby like glass. Though his son was a round, chubby, healthy baby (I mean, he’s David’s son, so he’s naturally going to be a sweet, big baby!), David still knew that he, himself, was very large and clumsy, sometimes, and he couldn’t bear the idea of hurting his baby. So he always took his time and moved very slowly, making sure he was methodical and careful with the little bear cub.

He’d be so careful over even the simplest things; changing his son’s diaper was a nearly fifteen minute task when it could have taken a more lax man three. He was just so nervous about unwilling to even so much as make the baby uncomfortable. If his son squirmed or cried a little, David would start to panic, turning to his wife for help, frightened that he’d scared or hurt his baby. But, really, all that had happened was his son was just reacting to the cold air on his tush like any baby would when having their diaper changed. 

After a while, David learned to stop being frightened, and realized that his babies love him as much as he loves them. He learned how to cradle his son when he cried, how to rock him and shush him and rub his little back soothingly, how to kiss his forehead and speak to him softly, how to swaddle him in his own big arms and tell the darling that everything would be alright. And all those lessons stayed with him, helping in the parenting and raising of all his future children.

Still, for a long time, David had really bad anxiety, specifically about the babies sleeping in a separate room. He’d learned about the way babies could have trouble breathing when asleep and it panicked him; their life had so soon begun and was so fragile, and he needed to be vigilant of their needs! He was so worried that he’d sometimes bolt up in the middle of the night, before the baby was even born, terrified by a vision in his mind of his little one not breathing... so he and his wife agreed that the crib should stay in their room for ease of access and to check to make sure all was well with baby during the long hours of the night. Once the baby was born and brought home, David would very frequently wake up and, without any prompting or reason to, go to check on the infant, peering into their crib. He’d reach one long arm in and stroke a finger over their rose-petal soft cheek, check their breathing, make sure they were in a comfy and good position. Sometimes he’d murmur to them soft words, promising he’ll always be by their side, loving them forever and always.

David meshes very well with fatherhood. It’s just natural to him. His protective nature provides wonderfully for his children and he has been in love with them since long before they were even bore. Since before they were even concieved, he sometimes says: he says he knew, even before he met his wife and even before they so much as talked about the prospect of children, that he loved his babies. He says they’ve lived in his heart since he was born, and they just happened to finally meet in person, face-to-face, a few years later.

His children all look very strongly like him. They all have his dark eyes and dense, curly hair, in various shades of color, ranging from deep black-brown like his to light, almost honey-ish brown-y gold. All of them are born at a very healthy weight, with round cheeks and little bread-roll arms and legs, and soft, spherical tummies. He adores them, and when he looks at them, he sees all the beauty of his wife, and yet some of his own features, but where he finds them ugly in himself, he can only see them as utterly angelic in his children. 

Also, David freakin’ loves putting his babies in little costumes. Nothing that could constrict their movements, make them uncomfy, et cetera, but he has a real fondness for dressing them up like little Disney characters, or in little teddybear onesies, or as Winnie the Pooh characters. When his daughter came along, he dressed her up as a little bumblebee and actually burst into tears because she was just so adorable.

David is also very good at making his babies laugh. He’ll blow raspberry kisses on their cheeks or tummies, or rub his nose on them, or lift them up waaaay high and baby-talk to them! He has no trouble talking to babies. He can coo at them all day with no problems at all! He loves to tickle his teeny weeny babies, using his big ol’ fingers to tickle under their chins and make them smile at him and wrinkle their little noses in the way that melts his heart. He’d do absolutely anything to see his babies smile.

Oh, and, yes, David isn’t ever tired of having babies. There could never be a family “too big” for David. He could have ten, twelve, fourteen children, and still be overwhelmed and overjoyed at the enunciation of number fifteen. His heart is immensely full of love, and he has so much to give, so much to share. He wants as many babies as they can have together, loving each and every one of them with all of his heart. He doesn’t have to divide his love: it multiplies with every new life brought into the fold.

That’s just a Handful of BabyTalks for my Beloved, my Darling, my David! I hope you like these little snippets!

[flowerpotphil]

Sleepless (1/2)

Summary: Phil is at an all time low, when a new 24 hour coffee shop opens he's more than happy to stay the night there. While he's there, he meets the new night worker - Daniel. Phil needs a job. The coffee shop is hiring. But what about when unspoken feelings mix with sadness? And will it ever work between them?  AO3      3491 Words Phil Lester was a somewhat self-proclaimed coffee addict. He needed coffee at absurd times, and only drank certain brands. He loved his coffee more than most things in life, and living directly near a coffee shop certainly helped feed his addiction. Being 19 with absolutely no idea what to do with his life wasn't fun, all his friends has glided into new lives, most going to uni in different parts of the country, and he was just stuck. His parents weren't fussed. Actually, he was glad he had such supportive parents, they knew his problem and they didn't pester him about going and getting a job or going to uni; he was pretty fortunate. But even the most lovely parents couldn't take the pressures of life off of his shoulders. It caused sleepless night after sleepless night, and the only thing Phil could do was go out and get a caffeine boost to ready him for the next day. He knew he looked like shit, he knew that the shadows under his eyes contrasted his pale skin so much that he looked ghostly, but he couldn't do a thing to change it. People commented about how bad he was looking, so he kept to going out at night. 

There was rain lining the pavement on the way to the coffee house, but it didn't prevent Phil from making his way there. It had been shut for a few days as it needed more staff - Phil wouldn't be able to keep his composure around all the coffee so it was pointless him applying - and it was open again that night. Whoever was working was probably going to be moody, not that that was an issue for Phil, he never cared. To his surprise, the worker was about his age. The boy had curly brown hair; a prominent dimple on his cheek; and deep brown eyes, he was staring into space and didn't notice Phil standing in the doorway with rain dripping off of him until the door shut. The click seemed to bring him to life, he shot upright and looked directly at Phil. "Hi! We don't usually get people in at this time, what brings you here?" "I just needed some coffee." Phil held out a £5 note and the boy pushed his hand back. "It's on me. Are you okay?" He asked, eyes all over Phil as if he was trying to pick him apart. "I'm good, can I get an Americano please?" The boy didn't say anything else for a bit, he just shuffled over to the huge coffee machine and began making the drink. He had his back to Phil when he spoke next, "You don't seem okay. If you were, you wouldn't have come out in this." And as if on cue, a lighting bolt struck somewhere in the distance. "I'm Daniel, by the way. Everyone just calls me Dan." He smiled when handing over the mug of coffee, and something sparked inside of Phil. "I'm Phil." It was quite awkward, but what else could he have said? Phil nodded and took the mug of coffee to a booth near the window, he knew Dan was looking over at him. Something inside him wanted to gulp the coffee down and run for it, but when he noticed Dan staring into space again his heart skipped a beat slightly. Phil had never really fell in love before, and he told himself this isn't the time for it. Dan didn't even know him. It took Phil 45 minutes to finish his coffee and stand up, Dan was back to staring into space and tapping his nails on the counter. They weren't exactly short, but not long either, and they made a nice sound when they tapped on the black marble. Phil wondered what he was thinking about, and whether he was aware of his surroundings. Choosing not to disturb Dan, Phil stretched and left, leaving his mug on the table. When he briefly looked back inside, he saw Dan's bright eyes looking out at him, then he saw Dan giving a little wave. He nodded, then looked at the floor and went home, his family would all be tucked up in bed and wouldn't even care that he'd have gone out. Actually, they seemed to care less and less with each passing day. Phil collapsed into bed, hands shaking from the caffeine surge in his veins, and for the first time in forever he cried. He cried for his childhood, for his lost friends. He cried for his life, and lack of a plan. He cried because he was keeping so much of himself a secret from his family. The butterflies he felt when he was looking into the dammed eyes of the coffee shop worker, he never once got when he looked at a woman. Phil hated the shame, eventhough he knew that it was just a thing some people felt - he just wondered why it had to be him. His parents and brother thought they knew him inside out and upside down, but they talked about him getting a girlfriend when he joined them at the dinner table. Phil couldn't admit that it was never going to happen, not even to himself. Unknowingly, he dropped off to sleep in the early hours of the morning

.When he woke up it was nearly 10am, his parents had gone to work and it left him all alone. His eyes were sticky with unwiped tears and his head was clouded with a steady ache - whether that was from sleeping too much, exhaustion, or crying, he wasn't quiet sure. His curtains casted a green glow around his room with the sunlight behind them, there was a layer of dust on the rail and Phil couldn't remember the last time he opened his curtains. He didn't want the world to see him. He knew what everyone thought of him: a lonely, sad, childish 19 year old with no aspirations or want to stand on his own two feet. Although it looked that way, it wasn't like that at all. Phil was struggling. The world seemed too fast paced and it scared him, his friends had been so excited to leave and go off to university, and he had no idea what he wanted with his life. Every time he looked at university courses, they were overwhelmingly difficult to navigate and there were so many options. Asking for help scared him too. So Phil became caught up in a predicament. He wasn't lazy, just scared.

When his family started to arrive home at 6 PM, Phil had already eaten a stale slice of bread (no one had been to the supermarket yet, it was all he had) and some left over pizza so that he wouldn't have to socialise with anyone. His mum arrived home first, she was on the phone to someone and Phil strained his ears to hear what she said. "Yes Karen, I know I need to make him pay rent... He's my son, I don't want to turn him away!"He tensed up. Karen was his friend, Anna's, mum. Anna had gone off to study physiotherapy at uni, she hoped Phil would follow her and study English Language as he always wanted to. He'd lied to her and said he applied but he didn't get in. In actual fact, he didn't even apply - just photoshopped the letter Anna had sent a photo of acknowledging her application. Forging the rejection letter was too hard, so Phil pretended that he'd ripped it up out of pure anger and horrific shame. That's what caused Anna to come with bags of chocolates and sweets, coupled up with a few rental DVDs. Guilt ate Phil alive as he curled up on his bed with Anna, her eyes glued to the movie 'Love, Simon'  as it played on TV. It would've been the perfect time to come out to her, but he missed it. That night, Anna left none the wiser. "Karen, leave it. Phil is loved here, job or no job, so drop the subject already." Phil was snapped out of his nostalgia to hear his mum abruptly put the phone down on her friend. She sighed after, and Phil swallowed his fear to go and see her. It had been a while since they'd spoken

."Mum?" He put his head around the door frame, tentatively checking if she was there. "Hello sweetie, are you okay?" Phil wanted to say no. He wanted to break down and cry to his mum about all that had happened in his mind, that he couldn't get out of an ever growing hole he was digging himself into. "Yeah, I'm good. Are you?" Idiot. "Of course. You didn't hear me on the phone did you? Oh Philly I'm so sorry, you know what she's like! Anna always used to complain about her when she visited and I can really see why. You're my son and I'm not forcing you to do anything in this state." "I know mum, I'm trying, I'm sorry." "I know you are, I'm here for you. I know you're going through some stuff right now, but I'm your mum and I'll support you no matter what." "Thanks mum..." It drifted into silence with neither of them knowing what to do next. Phil just gave a smile, nodded, then headed off back to his room. It was tiring to be around people, but it wasn't tiring to be around the boy from the coffee shop. Not that they had really met properly, and it was probably the caffeine surging through his veins. 

Yet again, it was midnight and Phil couldn't switch his mind off. Why didn't he tell him own mother? He wanted to tell her that he was gay, and that he had no clue what he was doing with his life. She'd understand. His brother understood that Phil was gay, he just happen to look on his phone and saw a gallery of shirtless men - it made for an awkward conversation, Phil tried to attack Martyn to get him off of the subject. After they'd spoken, and Phil was all cried out, his brother hugged him close and reassured that he'd always be supportive. Then, Phil got onto another train of thought. The coffee shop boy. It wasn't a decision, more of an impulse, but he pulled a grey hoodie over his bare chest and left his tartan pyjama bottoms on to go and get himself some coffee. He didn't really want it, but Daniel would hopefully be working and it'd be a familiar face. All he wanted was a familiar face. He was sure. 

The click of the door was partnered with a bell as Phil walked in, but he barely noticed it as he saw Daniel with a tear streaked face. "Dan? Why are you crying?" The professional nature of him was gone, he just stood behind the counter with his body shaking and heaving occasionally. He looked shockingly different to how Phil met him the night before; the boy who looked like such a dreamer had been torn down and stomped on until he was a crumpled heap on the floor. It really was the dramatic. "Hey, hey, it's okay." Phil bypassed the counter and went to the gap that acted as a door for the baristas, "I'm here." It wasn't a usual occurrence for Phil to initiate a hug between him and anyone, but an instinct took over and made him wrap his arms around Dan. When he felt Dan relax against his chest it was like they were naturally fitting together. "My family... I told them..." His voice was edged with pain, it was raspy and croaky all at once, "I told them that I like... like boys and girls. And they hate me. I hate me." "Is there anything else?" "Too much... For one, I love a guy who'd never give me the second glance." "Let's go have a seat."Phil let Daniel talk, and cry, but he'd worn himself out after an hour. "I'm really tired..." His voice trailed as his head lulled forward slightly. "Get some sleep, I'll man the fort." Phil gave a smile and patted Dan's curls as he passed by - they were as soft as he dreamed they would be, giving under the pads of his fingers. He didn't account for how difficult the coffee machine looked to work, it was red and spanned the length of an entire work surface, 4 tubes stuck out of the front and there was a grid to catch the waste underneath it all. A white, stained towel was folded neatly next to it and it clearly hadn't been used for the night. There was a poster lying on the stool that the baristas would sit at in slow times during the days. 'Night workers wanted, apply now!'  Phil looked up at Daniel, he was sleeping sweetly on the brown loveseat with his feet tucked underneath a cream cushion. His chest rose and fell rhythmically and his lips were set in a little smile. He looked cute. Kind of. Kind of very cute. To work alongside him would be absolutely amazing, it'd be like a dream come true. That dream was within touching distance, it really really was.To see if the machines worked easily, Phil fixed him and Dan a coffee, just like he'd seen the baristas do it time and time again. He didn't plan for the steaming pipe to be so loud, so he cringed as it made a noise and jolted Dan awake. "Phil?" He rubbed his eyes to help him wake up more. "Sorry, I just wanted to see if I could do it." That made Dan sit upright quickly and grin at Phil - contradictory to his prior state. "You're thinking of applying here?! Oh, please!" "You think we'd work the same shifts?" "Yes! I know!" Within moments, Dan was next to Phil showing him how the machines worked and what each different drink needed. He grabbed the canister of squirty cream and used it on Phil's head, creating a swirl on his black hair. Phil let out a high pitched sound as it was happening, shaking chocolate powder over his uniform to try at deter Dan from messing up his hair even more. "Get off of me!" Phil yelled, trying to run from Dan, who had a firm grip on his arm and his hand in Phil's hair. "Stop rubbing it in!" They were both giggling and stumbling around, tripping over each others feet as they moved. Phil; he was actually happy, even so far as elated, in that moment.

As Phil walked Dan home, having waited until his shift had finished, it began to drizzle with rain. Dan took his apron from around his waist and held it up, holding one side of it over Phil's head and the other above his own until Phil took hold of the one side. "Soon, I won't have to do this, you'll have your own apron." Dan was grinning at Phil, the usually light morning was grey and gloomy so there was no one to hear him say it. "I'll put in a good word for you, obviously." "I'll call at 8, don't underestimate me." Phil returned his smile, it had been a while since he'd had such a good time with someone. "Shouldn't you get some sleep? You've been with me all night." "I don't sleep much." "Why?" "I'm sorry I better be going." It was blunt, but Phil panicked. He was a mess and Dan was never going to find out. Neither was he going to find out that Phil had fallen for him. Complicated, hurt and frightened, Phil wasn't much more than that in his eyes. Dan would run a mile if he saw the real Phil, but he was the best person Phil had ever met and he didn't to lose him. He felt slightly pathetic - he barely knew Dan yet he had become so attached, yet Phil felt Dan had a secret too. With time, maybe he'd know. There was a delightful surprise in Phil's pocket, Dan had scribbled down his phone number on a napkin while he was in the toilet, when they were playing he'd slipped it into the back pocket of Phil's jeans. Dan thought he was being sly, getting his hand pressed on Phil's ass, even if it was through fabric and paper, it still counted. Obviously. When he got home, Phil took his phone out of the back pocket of his jeans and heard a crinkling sound as he brought it out. He pulled a face, hoping it was nothing important, and took it out. Scanning over the napkin in his hand, a smile came over Phil. "Silly boy." He mused, then he sat down on his bed, taking his phone and adding the number to his contacts. There was one question Phil had: what did this mean? Just a few streets away, Dan flopped onto his duvet and let out a huge sigh. He kept checking his phone to see if Phil had possibly sent him a message, he even said he wouldn't be sleeping. He contemplated staying up to hear from his new friend, but sleep was dragging at his eyelids and shadowing him. When morning came, Dan woke up to a message from Phil: Nice one, leaving your number in my pocket :p I hope this doesn't wake you up.. It made him smile, Phil was an awkward guy and that was quite endearing. He looked over at his alarm clock, it read 7:37 and the message had been sent at 5:59. It made Dan feel a little bit guilty, Phil was probably scared of him not replying. I was too dead for u to ever wake me up. I hope ur sleepin, wait, I hope ur calling my manager. Their typing styles were quite different, Dan used more text-talk while Phil was much more refined. The reply came in within an instant. Phil: It's not 8 yet! Sorry I ran off yesterday, things are just difficult. Dan: Do u wanna talk? I'm on shift tonight, or u can come over, no one's here. or stay for a while, my family are gone for a week. When he pressed send, Dan instantly regretted it. Asking Phil to stay over was too eager, he'd just met the man and he had an awfully big crush on him. It was a bad idea. Phil wouldn't ever have eyes for Dan, he probably thought he was a stupid young kid who'd clung to him while he tried to get some coffee. Phil: I’d love to stay at yours.. When do you want me to come over?

 An hour later, Phil was packing his backpack full of clothes and his toiletries for a few days. He was smiling to himself for the first time in forever, and it wasn't forced either. He was genuinely happy. 

There was a harsh knock on the door. "Come in!" Phil called, his voice bright for once. "Hey Ph- Wait, what's going on?" It was his dad, his eyes were round as he looked at the rolled up clothes he was packing. "Are you leaving?" "I'm just going to stay with a friend for a few days, he lives a few streets away." "Have I met him? You never said." "No dad. Neither has mum, but he's just a friend." "Just a friend, eh?" It made Phil look at his dad, he was leaning up the door frame with his arms crossed. "Sure." "What's that supposed to mean?" "Karen told me that Anna knows something about you. And other men." Time froze. Anna wouldn't have done it maliciously, Phil knew her mum would often check her phone, so that's how Karen found out. "Let me leave." Phil said, his voice low, head bowed, as he grabbed his backpack off his bed. "I'll talk to mum later," "Not so fast. You need to talk to her now. Shes in a state." "I don't really care, just let me go." It was a lie, Phil really did care about his mum, he was just in a sheer frantic state. And that was when his mum appeared behind his dad. "Is it true Phil?" She pressed. "Yes. Now, I really need to go, Dan's waiting." "Who's Dan?" Great. He'd dropped himself in it with no easy way of getting out. Apart from one. "He's a coworker. Okay? He lives by the place, so he's showing me the ropes. I'm doing the night shifts, so to save me coming all the way back here he's letting me stay on his couch. So please, let me fucking leave." He pushed between his parents and jogged down the stairs, getting out the door quicker than he's ever done before. At least he had Dan. 

[appalachianwiine]

Swim - Chapter 4 - Glass Houses

There was an earthquake There was an avalanche of change We were so afraid We cried ourselves a hurricane

There were floods Tidal waves over us So we folded our hands and prayed Like a domino These wildfires grow and grow Until a brand new world takes shape

-”Earth” by Sleeping At Last

“Carol!” Ezekiel’s booming voice cuts across the cafeteria, causing her and Daryl to both jump. 

“Ezekiel.” Carol forces a smile across her face and stands to hug him, his broad arms pulling her into a tight hug. Her heart is beating heavily in her chest. “How’s Henry?” 

“Good, he’s meeting with the tutor for a half hour before his infusion today.” Ezekiel kisses her cheek and extends a hand down to Daryl. “You and your daughter came in last night didn’t you?” 

“Yeah.” Daryl says, his gruff voice muttering out a few more words Carol doesn’t pick up. 

“I -I’m going to the bathroom you two uh - get acquainted.” She doesn’t wait to pay attention to the response given to her, she hurries across the cafeteria and into the ladies room. She goes immediately to the sink, splashing some cool water on her face and looking up into the mirror. 

‘Bruises. ...i thought maybe someone was hurtin’ her’ 

It sends a shiver down her spine. Had it really only been 4 years since she’d had those same thoughts? 

Closing her eyes her mind drifts back to that day, in the little house in southern Georgia. 

She leaned close to the mirror, carefully covering the latest of Ed’s marks with concealer. Sophia wasn’t up yet, she was always careful to keep the bruises covered in front of Sophia. She’s just putting the cap on the concealer and putting it back in her purse when she hears the tiny knock at the door, reaching over she opens it. 

“Mornin’ baby girl.” She smiles. “Need the potty?”

“No.” Sophia mutters sleepily. “I’m hungry and couldn’t find you.”

“Go get dressed and I’ll make you some breakfast.” Carol offers, kissing her daughter’s soft blonde hair. 

“You didn’t lay out my uniform last night.” Sophia whimpered. “You and daddy were fighting.” 

“Oh.” Carol breathes. She’d hoped Sophia hadn’t heard that, and she hoped now she didn’t know about the beating Carol had received last night. “Okay, lets go get your uniform then huh?” 

Carol takes Sophia’s hand and leads her into the laundry room. “You take that night gown off and put it on the hamper, it needs to be washed.” Carol digs through the dryer, finding the dark green top and khaki skirt after a moment. She grabs them and turns to Sophia. 

Sophia’s back is to her as she puts the night gown into the laundry hamper and across her side is a large purple bruise. Carol lets out a shriek and drops the uniform, pulling Sophia to her. 

“Mommy?!” Sophia yelps, turning back to her. “Mommy what?”

“Sophia.” Carol’s voice shakes and she has to fight to keep from crying. “Sophia how did you get that bruise?” 

“I -” Sophia frowns, her blue eyes watching Carol. Carol’s eyes scan Sophia’s torso, and arms, nothing, but her legs, her legs have several similar welts. 

Dear god. She’d left her with Ed a few days ago to go visit her mother in the nursing home. It was flu season, Sophia couldn’t come with her. It was Just for a couple of hours but he hadn’t been happy about it. She’d been positive he would never lay a hand on his own child. She’d been wrong, she’d been so very wrong. 

“You’re not going to school today.” Carol decides. “Go get - get your backpack and get a few toys and books okay.” 

“Wh-where are we going?” Sophia whimpers. 

“We’re leaving.” She says firmly, giving Sophia a tight hug. “I’m so sorry I let this happen.” 

She and Sophia had driven nearly 2 hours to get to the women’s shelter in Atlanta. A friend had given her the card once, Carol had insisted she didn’t need it, but kept it anyway. She’d wished she’d left sooner, hadn’t let him touch Sophia. But it turned out, he hadn’t. The bruises didn’t go away, and she started complaining about her legs hurting, then the fevers, and finally an answer. 

Leukemia. High-risk. 

She sucks in a shaking breath, and splashes more water over her face. Looking in the mirror she realizes how tired she looks. Her long hair falling limply around her shoulders. She definitely wasn’t the picture of hope for a new cancer parent - and telling him Sophia had died probably didn’t help either - but she had a policy. Be realistic. Be supportive. Don’t lie. 

Carol turns off the tap and leaves the bathroom, forcing the pain and the anger back down as she approached the table. 

“What I miss?” she says, sitting down in a chair next to Ezekiel and reaching for her coffee cup. 

“Not much.” Daryl says. “Uh Henry and Lyda are the same age.” 

“And I think Henry will like a friend.” Ezekiel says. “With his immune system the way it is we don’t get out much, and given we’ve only been in Atlanta three months, he hasn’t had much opportunity for friends.” 

“Three months?” Daryl frowns. 

“We moved down here after the diagnosis.” Ezekiel explains, he’s clutching his own cup of coffee.  “Because of it really, when I found out Henry’s cancer was high risk with a high rate of relapse I decided to, well roll the dice seems rather cold. But Dr. Porter is running a clinical trial for high risk Neuroblastoma. I wanted Henry in it and that meant moving here.”  

“Damn.” Daryl mutters. “Where y’all from?” 

“DC area. A town called Woodbridge, but I worked at the National Zoo.” Ezekiel explains. 

“Zoo keeper.” Daryl frowns. “Cool.” 

“Sorry.” Ezekiel smiles sheepishly. “Carol is often reminding me I can ramble a bit.” 

“It’s just ‘cause you do.” Carol forces a chuckle. “So um - Daryl is uh- is there anything you want to know?” 

“Uh,” Daryl shifts in his seat, still clutching the coffee cup. “Not - I can’t really  think of much. But uh - thanks. For - for all this We - it’s really overwhelming.” 

“Yeah.” Carol nods. “It is, trust me we understand.” 

“Your son,” Daryl says, looking over at Ezekiel. “Is - is he doing well. Is it - is it working?” 

“He’s doing as well as can be expected.” Ezekiel nods. “He’s been better the last week, but he’s due to start a new round today so I’m sure that will change. He has good days and bad days mostly. Sundays are usually good, Mass makes him feel better he says.” 

Daryl looks like he doesn’t really know how to respond to that, and Carol can’t say she blamed him. Ezekiel’s unwavering faith in God was something she couldn’t relate to, she’d turned her back on faith when Sophia was taken from her. How any God could put them through the hell that was almost a decade of their lives and then take her daughter she couldn’t understand. 

“He is lonely though, I think that’s the hardest part for him.” Ezekiel continues. “We don’t see other children much, we get groceries delivered, we don’t go to the pool, even the playground I try to avoid. And when we do go he has to wear a mask and sunscreen and a hat - chemo makes them burn very easily and I don’t want to risk anything.”  

“Damn.” Daryl mutters “She ain’ gonna like tha’.

“Henry doesn’t either.” Ezekiel sighs. “We see other cancer families occasionally, Thursdays during the support group one of the therapy dogs comes by for them to play with, and if he’s feeling well enough he’ll go to the playroom and sometimes there’s another child there. But that’s it.” 

“And uh - is his treatment working?” Daryl asks. 

“So far yes.” Ezekiel nods, on his wrist his watch beeps. “Ah that’ll be Henry's lesson over. I should get going, it was nice meeting you daryl, if your Lydia is feeling up to it please stop by today, they can have a snack together.” 

“Sure.” Daryl mutters. 

“And Daryl?” Ezekiel says, his tone suddenly serious. “You may be a single parent but you are not alone. Not anymore. We have your back.”

------------------------------------------------------------------

Daryl watches Ezekiel go to the counter to order hot chocolate for his son, he’s not sure what to make of the man. He seemed entirely too happy to be the parent of a child this sick. Entirely too well rested. Entirely too… everything. 

“He always like that?” Daryl asks. 

“Happy? Sort of overwhelmingly so?” Carol asks

“Yeah.” 

“He’s not happy.” Carol shakes her head. “The truth is he’s terrified, he’s alone in a new city with his very sick son, working at a Zoo when he can - which isn’t often - and the medical bills pile up fast. But he does try to be positive. For Henry he says but - but the truth is you can’t face it in here.” 

“What’d ya mean?” Daryl frowns. “All I’ve done since las’ night's face it.” 

“Well,” She sighs. “It’s - it’s different then that. You can face it, you have to face it every day because your child has to and you don’t want them to be alone. But feeling it?” She shakes her head. “No. You don’t feel it. Not really. Not until it’s over.” 

“Ah.” Daryl mutters, he had been doing that. Holding it together so he doesn’t freak Lydia out. “I uh - I haven’t even told her yet. I mean she knows she’s sick but - but I just told her her blood was bad.” 

“You’ll probably want to tell her today.” Carol says. “Child life can help you, Dr. Rhee will have them send someone up, they have a doll she can keep, and really good specialists.” 

“Okay.” Daryl sighs, running his hand over his face. “I uh - I don’t know what i’m doing.” 

“None of us did.” Carol shrugs, draining the last of her coffee. “But you figure it out, and Ezekiel is right Daryl, you’re not alone. Not anymore. I’m gonna give you my phone number, you call any time you need and let me know before she’s discharged. You’re gonna need some things at home, alcohol hand sanitizer, wipes, sheets, and trust me you’re gonna be too overwhelmed to think about it.” 

“Yeah?” Daryl licks his lips, watching her scrawl her number on a napkin. He pulls his phone out of his pocket and glances at the number “That a 3 or an 8?”

“Eight.” Carol says. He finishes dialing the number, in her pocket her phone goes off. “Perfect.” He puts her contact information down. “And Daryl, anytime you need to talk, really I’m just a phone call away.” 

“Thanks.” Daryl nods. “I uh - I do have just one question, it’s kinda personal.” 

She tilts her head to the side. “Yeah?”

“Sophia - how did you uh - how did you know she had high risk leukemia?” 

“The bone marrow tests.” Carol says softly. “They came back about a week after the initial diagnosis.” 

“So we won’t know anything today?” Daryl sighs. 

“Nope.” Carol says. “It’s one of the more frustrating parts of all of this. The first couple of days move so fast, almost so fast you can’t think and then everything slows down. It’s kind of like being in a car with a bad driver. Speed up, jerk to a halt, speed up again, come to a halt again. And by the time the ride is over you’ve got whiplash and you’re pretty sick and not quite sure you’ll ever get back in the car with that person ever again - only the person is cancer and you don’t have a choice sometimes.” 

The analogy stings a little, he’s not sure what to say here, but he’s sure he likes her approach a lot more then the smiling and rainbows one Ezekiel seemed to take. At least this was understandable. In his pocket the little pager goes off. 

“Tha’s the doc.” Daryl says, sitting up. 

“I’ll walk you up to recovery.” Carol says. “I’ll be around a couple more hours though, I’m gonna stop in and see Henry. If you need anything.” 

“Thanks.” He mutters. 

--------------------------------------------------------

Both Dr. Rhee’s are waiting for him in a family room off of the recovery suites, they stand to greet him when he walks in. He shakes their hands in turn and takes a seat at the conference table across from them. 

“How is she?” Daryl asks. “She awake?” 

“Not yet.” The Surgeon - Glenn Rhee - says. “She’ll be waking up in about 20 minutes, we just wanted to sit down with you and go over some stuff.” 

“Okay.” daryl says, 

“The surgery went well,” Glenn starts. “The PICC line went in no problem, she has good veins. Now you’re going to want to keep it from getting wet and bound up out of the way when it’s not in use. You can use medical tape, it’s fairly easy. You’ll have to flush it twice a day at home but don’t worry about that right now. We’ll cover how to do that before she’s discharged.” 

“Okay.” He nods. “And uh - how about the bone marrow and the - the chemo did she do okay?” 

“She was out like a light the whole time I promise.” Maggie smiles. “She’ll be a little sore when she wakes up, and she might have a headache. That’s very common after a lumbar puncture we’ll keep on top of it.” 

“She got the chemo too?” Daryl asks. “Will that - I mean will her hair be gone or something.” 

“Not yet.” Maggie explains, pulling out a sheet of paper from the folder in her hands. “This is the chemo we gave her, and these are the possible side effects. The hair loss will come gradually, and will probably mostly happen when you’re at home. But we’re gonna get someone from Child Life to come help her understand all of that. Most side effects from this chemo are pretty mild, she won’t feel them right away. Around 30% do feel them immediately, usually nausea, vomiting, fever. Nothing to worry about but we’ll keep an eye on it. There are more serious side effects but those are very rare and since she’s in the hospital we’ll be keeping an eye on it. I can tell you about them if you want but right now, since she’s in the hospital, you don’t need to worry. This moves really fast, so I think it’s best if we just tell you what you need to know right now.”

“Yeah.” Daryl agrees, his head is already full to bursting with information from the meeting with Carol and Ezekiel, he definitely can’t take much more at the moment. “What about the bone marrow, when will we know about that?” 

“Well the lab that does bone marrow sampling ain’ open on Sundays, so the sample won’t start being processed until tomorrow, but we should have results by Thursday.” Maggie explains. 

“The lab ain’ open on Sundays?” He scowls. “My kids got cancer an’ they’re takin’ time off fer church?” 

“I know it’s frustrating.” Maggie says. “But Mr. Dixon I promise you, while you do have a very sick little girl, this is a marathon not a sprint.” Her voice is firm, but not unkind. “Results on Wednesday versus thursday won’t make a difference at the end.” 

“Well what do we do in the meantime?” Daryl asks. “We just let this thing get hold of her?”

“No.” Maggie reassures. “In the meantime we keep her platelets up, her fever free, and we start Chemotherapy.” 

“How can we start chemo if you don’ even know which type she’s got?” He snaps. 

“Because in the beginning, you treat most Leukemia the same.” Maggie explains. “We tailor the treatment to the child after we know which kind they have, but she can start chemo tonight, we have to get her blood work back first and I want her to have a little down time after the surgery, but if all goes well she’ll start chemo at around 9pm.” Maggie explains. 

“9pm.” dary mutters. “Her bedtime’s at 8.” 

“Hospitals aren’t great for bedtime.” Maggie smiles sympathetically. 

“And uh -” He swallows. “Carol told me t- to talk t’ ya ‘bout gettin’ some help for tellin’ her about the cancer. She doesn't know yet. I just said she was sick with bad blood but she’s 8, she’s gotta have a better explanation then that.” 

“Of course.” Maggie nods. “I’ll get in contact with Child Life and they can send someone up in a couple of hours. She’ll want to eat and probably nap some first, it’s been a big day. They can come up around 4 this afternoon though.” 

“Yeah sure.” Daryl nods. “I’m just - she can read.” It sounds rather dumb, but he shifts in his chair as he thinks through explaining this. “She’s gonna be able to read the - the door. The ‘center for cancer and blood disorders’. And she’s gonna ask and I - I don’ wanna lie t’ her. She’s got a lot of - of trauma in the past, she gets real upset if she thinks people ain’ bein straight with ‘er” 

“Okay.” Maggie nods slowly. “Well in that case, I can get Child Life to meet you in the room when she leaves the recovery suite.” 

“Thanks.'' Daryl nods. “We uh - I jus’ wanna make this as easy as possible.” 

“Of course Mr. Dixon.” Maggie smiles. “You spoke t’ Carol?” 

“Yeah.” He nods. “She uh - she’s good. Met the guy across the hall too.” 

“Good.” She nods. “You’ll need support during this.” 

“We have - I mean we have some support.” He nods. “My uh - my partner at the station, Lori, her ex and his wife.” It occurs to him that he really should call them, he’d had his phone silenced since last night and had hardly looked at it this morning. 

“Good.” Glenn says. “Now do you have any questions?’ 

“No, not that I need to know now. I just - I just want my girl back.” He sighs. 

“We’ll take you right over.” Maggie promises, standing up. “Follow me.” 

--------------------------------------------------

Lydia comes out of the anesthetic kicking and screaming, it takes them nearly a half hour to calm down, by which point Daryl is so shaken he’s sure he’s about to kick off. The only way Lydia will let them roll the bed anywhere is if she’s planted firmly in Daryl’s lap, popsicle in hand. She’s curled up with her head resting on his chest, eyes puffy from crying when they make it back to their room. Maggie is waiting for them, accompanied by a blonde girl carrying a toy box, this must be Child Life, he’d completely forgotten about them. Maybe he should’ve waited until this evening. 

“Hi Lydia!” The blonde says brightly. 

“Who are you?” Lydia mutters, clinging to Daryl with one hand. 

“I’m Beth,” The blonde holds out her hand. “And I bet you’re a little scared right now?”

Lydia nods. 

“Maybe confused?” Beth continues. 

“Yeah.” Lydia mutters. “I just want to go home. We were supposed to go to Carl’s.” 

“Is Carl your best friend?” Beth grins. 

“Yeah.” Lydia says. “He’s nice. Sometimes he shares his hat.” 

“Well that’s very nice of him.” Beth says. “Can I sit down?” 

“Yeah.” Lydia shifts so she can get a better look at Beth as she sits down on the edge of the bed. 

“Do you know why you couldn’t go over to Carl’s?” Beth asks, setting the box down between them. 

“Because I’m sick. I have bad blood.” Lydia says. 

“Well sort of.” Beth says. “We have a word for bad blood, we call it Leukemia.” 

“Leukemia?” Lydia wrinkles her nose. 

“Yeah,” Beth says. “And Leukemia is something called Cancer. Do you know what Cancer is?” 

“It makes the kids on TV hair fall out.” Lydia’s answer catches him by surprise. Where on earth would she have seen cancer on TV? “And then they ask for money for church.” 

“You mean the St. Judes commercial?” Daryl frowns. 

“Yeah. They need money for church.” Lydia looks back at him. 

“That’s not really what -” 

“It’s fine Mr. Dixon.” Beth intervenes. “We’re gettin’ a little off topic. So Lydia, you have Leukemia, and that’s a type of Cancer.” 

“Am I gonna lose my hair?” Lydia whimpers. 

“Yeah,” Beth says. “But,” she produces the plastic box, which he now sees holds a bald doll, a few colorful hats and wigs. “This Doll has leukemia too, and she lost all her hair, but she gets to wear lots of hats, and wigs, and scarves.” Beth points to each one in turn. 

“Can I wear hats?” Lydia looks back at Daryl. 

“‘Course you can.” He mutters, kissing the top of her head. 

“Here,” Beth opens the box. “This is yours, how about we try the hats on her?” 

“Okay!” Lydia says, scrambling off Daryl’s lap to sit next to Beth and the doll. 

“Hey Lyd,” Daryl says, swinging his feet off the bed. “I’ll be righ’ back okay?” 

“Okay.” Lydia doesn’t even turn to look at him, nor does she notice when he kisses her head again, she’s too preoccupied with the toy. 

He steps into the hall, and runs a hand through his hair. He can feel his heart pounding, hear the blood rushing in his ears. God he’s gonna be sick. Her hair is gonna fall out. Her hair is going to fall out and then she’s gonna look like one of those kids on TV. He rests his hands on his knees. One of those kids who you look sympathetically at their parents in the grocery store. One of those kids that people said they’d pray for. 

“You okay?” He looks up, Carol is standing in the doorway of room 323. 

“She uh - she’s gonna lose her hair.” He mutters, sliding down to sit on the floor. 

“Yeah.” Carol whispers, crossing her arms and coming to sit next to him. 

“She’s gonna look sick.” Daryl whispers. 

“Yeah.” Carol agrees. 

“People are gonna - they’re gonna look at her like people look at sick kids.” Daryl whispers. 

“Yeah.” Carol agrees. 

“God I used to look at sick kids like that.” He mutters. 

“You still will.” Carol says. “But in a different way. With more understanding. You’ll know that they’re having a good day because they’re in the grocery store. Or at the park. You’ll know how hard they’re fighting to be here. You’ll just, know.” 

“I don’t want to do this.” 

Carol reaches over and takes his hand, giving it a squeeze. “No one does.” 

“Daddy!” Lydia calls. “Come look! Come Look!” 

“Duty calls.” Daryl says. 

“Always does.” Carol lets go of his hand and offers a smile. “I’ll be here a few more hours, with Henry and Ezekiel. Bring her over if she feels better.” 

“I will.” Daryl promises, standing up and holding out a hand to help her up. 

Carol takes it and lets him pull her to his feet. “And don’t be afraid to reach out for help, now go, I think you have a few hours of Barbie ahead of you.”

[theonlyjelly-iwillput-inmybelly]

Escapade- Chapter Eight of Eight

A/N: Well, guys! Here’s the final chapter of Escapade (or should I say Escapeight???)

If you’re still reading despite that disgusting pun, I’d like to thank you personally for a) dealing with the pun and b) sticking around long enough to read this entire fic. This was my first ever piece of fanfiction, or any completed work of fiction that I have ever written. And I have to say, it’s been oddly therapeutic. Your kind words and enthusiasm have helped me to no end; you guys really helped to lift me out of dire mental health straits. 

Sincere thanks goes out to @celiawhatsherlastname​, who was not only the one who gave me the prompt that morphed into the fic, but who also provided me endless support as she patiently listened to me trying to get my thoughts and ideas together. Love ya, Celery

You can read…

The fic in its entirety on my AO3 (the link will take you to the beginning of the story)

Chapter One on my Tumblr (this will take you to Chapter One only)

Chapter Two on my Tumblr (this will take you to Chapter Two only)

Chapter Three on my Tumblr (I think you get the drill at this point)

Chapter Four on my Tumblr

Chapter Five on my Tumblr

Chapter Six on my Tumblr

Chapter Seven on my Tumblr 

Please let me know through a message or a comment if you want to be added to the taglist for any Sanders Sides fics I may write in the future (this goes for all of you who are currently on the Escapade taglist as well)

Tagging people at the end.

All three of the other sides rose early the next day, though the circumstances by which they arose were quite unusual for a household that was normally so quiet at eight in the morning.

Logan was the first to actually open his eyes. It was a rather reluctant action because he was incredibly comfortable and couldn't remember a time when he felt so warm. His vision was blurry without his glasses, and he moved so as to reach them on the nightstand, but the heavy weight of Patton on his chest made him pause. Stretching his arm as far as he could without disturbing the sleeping Patton, he snagged his glasses with his fingertips, and put them on.

He blinked, and looked down at his sleeping boyfriend beside him. His heart ached in what he now recognized to be unadulterated love, but also pity. After his small emotional outburst after burning the cookies, Patton had been unable to stop crying. He had to be led to bed, almost entirely inconsolable as he confessed to Logan all of his worries about Roman and Virgil, and how Thomas would be affected if the creative side were to die. Logan was relieved that Patton was learning to open up to him about his feelings, but he was still deeply concerned that Patton felt in that way.

But he had managed to get Patton to sleep after the moral side had cried himself out and finally experienced his first post-caffeine crash. And now, the moral side was curled up against him, his fingers curling and uncurling every once in awhile on Logan’s chest like a cat. That aching feeling called love welled up in Logan’s chest, and he found a wide grin forming on his features. The feeling throbbed and pulsated any time Patton’s lips moved to form sleepy words in his dreams, or any time he let out small puffs of breath that warmed Logan’s bare chest.

Logan sighed, closing his eyes as he buried his nose into Patton’s hair. He was just drifting off, Patton’s warm, sweet scent lulling him back to sleep when he heard what sounded like a body falling out of bed next door.

He blinked awake, his brow furrowing. The only being next door was Virgil. Perhaps he was having a nightmare, and had-

BAM!

Logan let out a shout of shock when the door to his bedroom was flung violently open, the door knob no doubt leaving a dent in the plaster. Patton jerked beside him, letting out a high gasp of shock, arm scrambling for his glasses.

“Guys, wake the fuck up!” Virgil shouted from the doorway, looking obnoxiously excited for eight in the morning.

“Nikola Tesla!” Logan groaned, handing a groggy Patton his glasses and staring torpidly in Virgil’s direction,

“What on earth is the matter, kiddo?” Patton asked, focusing blearily on the excited figure in the doorway with concern.

“Can’t you dopes feel it too? Roman’s alive!” Virgil said, standing in the middle of the room and uncharacteristically bouncing with vivacity.

Logan and Patton listened hard. A feeling of deep exhilaration spread from their chests to the rest of their bodies. They could almost feel the adrenaline that was pumping through Roman’s body pumping through their own. Perhaps that was why Virgil was so excited; as the most connected to Roman, he felt the creative side’s emotions with trebled intensity. Regardless, all three sides heard a powerful heartbeat, and felt pure joy at being alive.

“Oh, well thank goodness!” Patton sighed, his silly grin plastered on his face as he slumped against Logan in sheer relief.

Logan’s eyebrows shot up in astonishment. “I must say, I am pleasantly surprised.”

There was a few moments of sweet silence as all three sides listened intently to Roman’s overwhelmingly happy aura, and sent forth their happiest, if not sleepiest thoughts, in his direction.

“See, Verge?” Patton spoke up finally, his chin resting on Logan’s shoulder, “I told you Roman was going to be alright.”

Virgil shrugged, a sheepish smirk on his face as he rubbed his neck. “...I know...I know, you were right again...I just worry. I bet you’re totally surprised to hear that.”

Logan yawned. “Virgil, while I am very pleased to hear that Roman is alive and that you have had your mental burden lifted from you, I think I speak for Patton as well when I say we’ve all had a long night and would love to go back to sleep.”

Virgil blinked, and glanced at the clock on Logan and Patton’s nightstand. He was absolutely disgusted to see that it read eight in the morning.

“Alright, yeah, sorry...That motherfucker woke me up at eight in the morning?!” he grumbled to himself as he threw his casual salute to the other sides, quietly shutting the door behind him as he left.

Logan sighed, closed his eyes, and immediately flopped back down. He put his hands behind his head and groaned. Normally, he was an early riser, but he now felt no motivation to do anything but sleep for at least another three hours. He felt Patton shifting next to him, and he squinted up to find the moral side’s face inches from his own.

“What?” Logan whined, feeling very puerile for a moment as he bit his bottom lip in a pout.

“You were wrong, Logan,” Patton crooned teasingly, using his thumb to pull Logan’s lip from his teeth, “You though that Roman was gonna die.”

“Hey,” Logan said, nibbling gently on Patton’s thumb and looking reproachfully into his eyes, “I can’t be right about everything, otherwise I’d really be a robot.”

Patton smiled, and leaned down to steal a kiss, moving his hand to cup Logan’s jaw. Logan closed his eyes, letting that aching love heat up his cheeks in a blush.

“Oh my goodness,” Patton said as he eventually pulled away, his eyes gleaming, “You still blush everytime we kiss.”

Logan couldn’t help but smile. “It appears that I am unable to control it.”

Patton settled back down, taking off his glasses and handing them to Logan, who took off his own once again and placed them together on the night stand. He shifted until he was comfortable, Patton curling once again into his side.

“...I’m glad everything is working out so good,” Patton sighed into Logan’s neck.

“Well,” Logan corrected, his eyes already closing.

“Yeah. Working out so well.”

Logan buried his nose once more into Patton’s hair, the warm, familiar scent lulling him back to sleep.

“Me too,” he whispered, but Patton was already asleep.

As Roman traveled farther east, the terrain changed drastically. The lifeless, rocky soil that marked the boundaries of what was the Dragon Witch’s territory melted seamlessly into a scrubby chaparral, a dry land that was dotted with small shrubs and thorny bushes. After that, the land became more and more familiar; as the sun passed its zenith and began to sink, Roman began to recognize his homeland more and more; it was a vast grassland with occasional groves of ash trees, the gentle eastern breeze making the grasses sway and dance. The scent of burning and decay seemed to wash away the closer and closer to home they got.

When the endless grasslands gave way to reveal a forest growing in the distance as the sun was beginning to set, Roman nearly cried. That was the forest that surrounded his entryway to the Mind Palace, the forest that hid his castle. Eagerly, he slapped Maximus’s reigns, but the horse needed no urging; already he put on an extra burst of speed despite his exhaustion, for he too knew that they were close to home.

The closer to home he got, Roman could more clearly feel the other sides. As the forest loomed closer and closer, Virgil’s overwhelmingly swift heartbeat seemed to pound in time to his own heart. He could feel the excitement building in Virgil’s gut building in his own, and he could hardly wait to see the anxious side once again. He couldn't wait to burst through the door and race into the Mind Palace commons, showing them all the tooth of the Dragon Witch. But most of all, he couldn’t wait to just hold Virgil.

It turns out, Roman didn’t have to wait that long to do all of that.

Roman was daydreaming about his triumphant return when Maximus suddenly let out a rollicking whinny. Roman, jarred from his daydreams, looked around wildly, expecting there to be danger. But Maximus wasn't stopping, and his ears weren’t pinned, so what could it be?

The horse flickered his ears forward, and Roman followed his guide. He gasped.

There, on top of the hill standing just before his forest, were three figures waving their arms with varying degrees of vivacity. One was dressed in black with a distinct blue tie, one was wearing a bright blue shirt and jumping like a maniac, while the third was bouncing and wriggling, clad in a patchwork hoodie. All three of them had bright purple hair. If Roman listened carefully over the pounding of Maximus’s hooves, he could hear them shouting his name.

“Yah, Maximus!” Roman cried, “Almost there!”

The horse pounded up the hill, and the three figures began to run down to meet them. The one in the tie picked his way down carefully, but the others were tumbling all over themselves to meet him. The figure in the purple hoodie tripped and momentarily disappeared into the grass, but rose quickly and doggedly tried to catch up.

Roman pulled on the reins sharply, and Maximus reared up on his hind legs, whinnying. Gracefully, Roman slid off the horse and stumbled only slightly when he hit the ground running. Maximus bolted by Logan, Patton, and Virgil, running far too fast to stop in time. There was a great collision of arms, bodies, and purple hair. All of them began talking at once.

“Roman! Oh my goodness, you’re home!” Patton shouted, wrapping his arms around him and screaming into his shirt.

“Your presence was dearly missed!” Logan cried, slapping Roman on the shoulders.

Roman pulled away, grinning hugely. He was stumbling at the impact of Patton and Logan running into him. But his face quickly fell. He looked frantically around; where was Virgil?

Patton and Logan looked over their shoulders as they heard a rustling in the grass, and dove to the side just as a sprinting Virgil was about to knock them off their feet. Roman let out a shout of joy upon seeing him, but that quickly devolved into one of fear as Virgil slammed into his arms, and he felt himself falling backwards.  

Logan and Patton watched with both concern and deep amusement as the pair tumbled down the hill, a tangle of limbs and shouts until they landed at the bottom, sending up a cloud of dust.

Roman lay flat on his back, gasping for breath as he lay winded. Before he could even open his eyes, he felt a heavy weight descend on his stomach, and someone was shaking his shoulders, babbling almost entirely incoherently and without stopping for breath.

“Roman Sanders you absolute fucking knucklehead, I oughta smack the shit outta you, you dramatic ass punk, holy fuck I missed you, I-I-I” Virgil chattered with delight, only stopping when he had to pause to suck in a huge lungful of air. He ended up just staring down at the man lying spreadeagled on the ground beneath him, a silly grin on his face.

Roman, covered in ash, dust, sweat and other debris, looked like he was about to cry. He sat up, his eyes roaming feverishly up and down Virgil, who was straddling him, almost like he couldn't believe he was there. He reached out, gathering fistfuls of Virgil’s hoodie-his real hoodie- and squeezed. He hadn't realized how much seeing a fake Virgil tied up and eventually eaten by the Dragon Witch had affected him until he felt the living warmth of Virgil beneath his fingers, and breathed in his minty, cinnamon scent.

Suddenly, it was all too much. All of his physical exhaustion, along with the shaky relief and tension he had been bottling up all released at once as the dam in his eyes broke. He pulled Virgil into a fierce hug, squeezing him close so as to reassure himself that he was actually there and not in the jaws of the Dragon Witch.

“Oh, Virgil,” Roman croaked, his voice shaking as he curled his fingers into Virgil’s hair,  “you have no idea how glad I am to see you.”

When Logan and Patton carefully tramped to the bottom of the hill, they did not expect to see a slightly panicking Virgil cradling an absolutely sobbing Roman in his arms, the Prince burying his ashy head into Virgil’s shoulder and shaking violently.

“Oh my goodness, what’s wrong?!” Patton yelped, falling to his knees besides the slumped form of Roman and wringing his hands fretfully, looking helplessly to Logan, who quickly knelt down to better examine the situation.

But before any of them could say another word, Roman lifted his head, and all three of the terrified sides were immensely relieved to see that his filthy face was split by a huge smile.

“I’m sorry, friends,” he said, wiping his tears away “This venture has been very taxing, both upon my body and my mind. I’m just a bit wound up; and I’m just so happy to see you all, j-just...I’m just-just-”

His stammering broke off into a strangled sob, and he quickly buried his head back into Virgil’s shoulder, crying his eyes out but still having the grace to shoot a hasty thumbs up before squeezing Virgil with all his might. Though they were both deeply, deeply concerned (Logan was recalculating furiously- how could he be sobbing but still shoot a thumbs up sign, a gesture that usually boded well? It didn’t make any sense), they all began to understand that Roman had undoubtedly gone through a lot, and was experiencing a sensory overload.

The others all breathed huge signs of only slightly concern-tinged relief.

Later that night, after he had finished crying, taken care of Maximus, showered, changed into comfortable pajamas, and been fed a huge meal, Roman collapsed upon the sofa, the other sides gathering around him to hear his tale. He smiled as looked into each face; Patton sitting pretzel style and facing him eagerly, Virgil sitting on the armrest, his hand absently brushing through Roman’s  hair, his legs stretched out in Roman’s lap, and Logan sitting on the ottoman, his hands folded in his lap.

“Tell us what happened!” Patton urged, kneading Roman’s leg in an impatient gesture.

“Hey! Don’t rush him!” Virgil hissed, the hand in Roman’s hair involuntarily tightening. Roman chuckled and took Virgil’s free hand, squeezing it while he gently kissed Virgil’s knee, the closest part of him he could reach without moving much.

“It’s alright, love,” he said to Virgil, and, looking around, began his tale. He detailed how far he had to travel, admitted how lonely he felt on the first night, and how the river was so swollen that he had a rough time crossing it. He explained how awful the Dragon Witch’s territory was, and how he couldn’t breathe without tying on a cloth mask. As he told his story, all of the sides listened in enraptured silence. Patton squeezed his arm, gasping and grinning at all the right places. Virgil was so enthralled that he didn’t realize that he was sliding off the armrest, but when he did notice he settled on eventually curling up in Roman’s lap, his head on Roman’s chest and his eyes shining. Logan listened with his face propped up in his hand, his eyes sparkling, doing his best to not interrupt out of respect for the creative side.

The telling became more difficult when Roman reached the part about fake Virgil.

“I thought for certain that this was going to be my final battle with the Dragon Witch,” Roman said, his voice growing heavy, “There was just a feeling in my gut that this was to be the final showdown. There was no way she was going to terrorize my dear friends anymore, and there was no way she was going to prevent any more Disney sleep overs between you and I, my dear Virgil.

“But...she just...she found a way to get to me.” he said, his gaze dropping, “...she had cupped her claws together, and there was a flash of light. When she moved her claws apart…”

Roman swallowed thickly,beginning to fidget with difficulty under Virgil.

“Go on, Ro,” Virgil said quietly against his chest, leaning up to pepper his jaw with reassuring kisses.

Roman blinked, and gazed at Virgil. He continued to speak to the room, but he found himself wanting to explain himself only to Virgil.

“...She had you, gagged and bonded to a chair, Virgil.”

There was a tense silence.

Logan blinked, his brow furrowing. “But that’s impossible. Virgil hasn’t left the commons for the entirety of your absence, Roman.”

“Well, I certainly didn’t know that!” Roman responded, “I thought that she had somehow managed to kidnap him. Obviously, the Virgil she had tied to a chair was a fake, but fuck…”

Roman looked down at Virgil, his eyes reddening again. “You seemed so real.”

There was a heavy silence as the sides digested what Roman said. Roman rested his chin on Virgil’s head. With a shuddering breath, the Prince continued.

“I obviously was willing to do anything to get you free, love. The Dragon Witch gave me two options. One: I could either sacrifice myself, dying with knowledge that the Dragon Witch would promise keep you alive despite her plans to utterly destroy Thomas’s mind. You would…”

Roman swallowed again, and cleared his throat several times. He shook his head to clear the image of the Dragon Witch wrapping her tongue around fake Virgil’s shoulders, a perverse gleam in her eye “...She said you would make a fine slave. You’d be...a slave, but you’d be alive.”

Virgil’s fists balled in his lap, and he bit his lip. He shuddered, trying not to imagine what being the slave of the Dragon Witch could be like. Chewing on the string of his hoodie, he nestled his head closer to Roman’s chest and fiddled nervously with the golden embellishments on the creative side’s uniform.

“And Two: I could fight her, and I would inevitably lose and she would kill us both, and also ravage Thomas’s mind.”

“What! I don’t believe that for one second,” Patton said indignantly, “You certainly could have defeated her, Roman!”

Roman chuckled dryly. “Not in mono-a-mono combat. You guys only got to see her once, and not as closely as I did. She is massive; her very breath could knock me over. How the heckity heck would I be able to kill her if she could just exhale and knock me flat on my ass? No, I had to think of a better way to kill her, a way where she’d be too distracted.”

Patton grumbled something about believing in yourself, but quieted down when Roman continued.  

“Of course I couldn’t let option two happen.” Roman said quietly, “I had to go with option one.”

“But evidently you didn’t. Your presence here is testament to that fact,” Logan said, his features tense in concentration.

Roman grinned and turned to face Logan. “You’re right. I didn't take either of the options because I created a third option that the Dragon Witch couldn’t refuse.”

He paused to take a breath, savoring in the tension build-up.

“Care to elaborate?!” Virgil snapped as he pawed Roman’s ribs, growing very invested in the story.

Roman leaned down and gently pressed a kiss to Virgil’s forehead. “Please don’t be mad, love...but I made a deal with the Dragon Witch. I begged for my life, acted like a total coward, a traitor to my title,. I told her she could...told her she could do whatever she wanted to you, Patton and Logan, my kingdom, and Thomas, only if she spared my life.”

Virgil blinked, and let the words sink in. His face twisted with rage, and he was about to surge out of Roman’s lap and prepare to slap him when Roman held up his hands defensively and quickly interrupted the swear that was forming on Virgil’s lips.

“But I knew at that point that it wasn’t really you who was in the chair, love. Because of that, I wanted to fool her into thinking she had won over me. She would gain self confidence, and that would make her vulnerable enough for me to kill her. It was easy enough; she has...had quite the ego.”

“But how’d you know that that Virgil was phony?” Patton asked.

“Yes, how did you?” Virgil snarled, still looking venomous.

Roman grinned, leaning slightly away from Virgil all the same. “Because the Dragon Witch modeled you to look like your old self, love. Virgil 1.0.”

Logan looked at Patton, and quietly whispered “Does Virgil update in the same fashion as a computer?”

Patton shook his head, and Roman sighed. “No, Logan. I mean that the fake Virgil still had brown hair and the huge black hoodie and jeans. He also had that old eye pencil as opposed to eye shadow.”

“Ah, yes. That makes sense.” Logan said, rubbing his chin and nodding minutely.

Virgil buried his head in his arms. “Oh god, that’s so cringey.”

“It’s not cringey, it’s you, love!” Roman cried, kissing Virgil’s hair.

“But what if Virgil had just changed into his old outfit?” Logan asked, frowning in frustration.

“And dyed his hair back that quickly?” Roman asked, arching an eyebrow, “No, Logan. I was absolutely certain that the person the Dragon Witch had wasn’t Virgil. Plus, the fake Virgil just...he didn’t act like the real deal. You know? It is difficult to explain.”

He gazed fondly down at Virgil, who was still hiding his face in embarrassment. “I just knew it wasn’t Virgil. It was just something in my gut that knew.”

Roman smiled at the distinct blush that still tinted Virgil’s cheeks. The anxious side had uncovered his face, and had resorted to chewing his hoodie string while scowling.  Roman wrapped his arms protectively around him, and cuddled him closer to his chest.

“Besides, I know my boyfriend when I touch him.” he murmured, and Virgil’s blush flared once again. The anxious side giggled, a gentle smile on his face, limply smacking Roman but snuggling his head more comfortably into his chest nonetheless.

“So then what happened?!” Patton urged, sounding just like a child being told a bedtime story, but the story was being told at an insufficient pace.

“The Dragon Witch assumed that she was getting a great deal. She...She gobbled Virgil up, chair and all. But while she was chewing, I took my sword and drove it directly between her terrible eyes!” Roman declared, raising a fist in a triumphant gesture, “The Dragon Witch is no more. She is gone.”

“...I guess you could say that she is...Dra-gone,” Patton snickered. Roman and Virgil both groaned in unison while Logan tittered his mechanical laugh indicative of an urge to leave this godforsaken timeline for one with less dad jokes.

Roman sighed. “...I should clarify...I would never give any of you up for dead so that I myself may live. I would never willingly sell you out, Virgil, and I would never do anything that would indirectly cause your deaths, Patton and Logan.”

He blinked, tears forming once more in his eyes as he furtively glanced from one to side to the next. “I’d rather kill myself than do that.”

Logan blinked several times, an indicator of shock. “You did not need to clarify that, Roman. We all know this very well.”

“Yeah, of course! We already know all that! You’re the bravest, noblest, bestest of us all!” Patton cheered, squeezing Roman’s arm in a hug and giggling.

Virgil was very quiet, ignoring Logan’s gentle lecture to Patton on why ‘bestest’ was the incorrect term. He sensed that there was something else motivating his boyfriend to say this. As he tried to catch Roman’s eye, he noticed instantly that the Prince had his self deprecating expression, an expression one had to train very hard to be able to detect. Roman would say something, and glance to each side, as if yearning for...validation.

“Ro…” Virgil said, cupping Roman’s cheek and gently tugging so that the creative side was forced to look at him, “...You don’t need to keep validating yourself to us. You don’t need our approval for every little thing. We all love you and trust that you know how to make the right decision.”

Roman blinked, a startled look forming on his features. He held Virgil’s gaze, searching for some kind of lie, but he couldn’t find any simply because there was no lie.

And also because Virgil flicked his gaze away, his cheeks flushing as the discomfort of looking someone in the eyes for too long washed over him.

Roman laughed in relief, and leaned down, capturing Virgil’s mouth in a kiss.

They only separated when they heard Patton grumble “...So, you’re telling me the bestest way of saying ‘bestest’...is just ‘best’?!”

Roman laughed. Everything was forgiven, and everything was going to be alright again.

“Well, Verge, I think we both can agree that you were right in saying that my venturing into the land of the Dragon Witch was indeed a bad idea.”

It was night, long after Roman had recounted his adventures of the past three days. Logan and Patton had retired to their room, the room that was previously purely Logan’s, after giving Roman strict instructions to sleep late the following morning. Afterwards, Roman and Virgil had returned to the sleeping quarters of Roman’s room, feeling safe to do whatever they pleased now that the evil presence of the Dragon Witch was gone.

Virgil, lying on his side, looked from his phone screen to Roman, who was lying next to him once more, his arm curled protectively around the anxious side’s stomach. Virgil was certain that Roman had fallen asleep.

“...Yeah it was a bad idea, you dumbfuck. You shoulda listened to me,” Virgil whispered. He chuffed when Roman made a hurt nose and spooned Virgil closer to his chest.

“No, I don’t mean that...much. It turned out to be a good idea because the Dragon Witch is gone and I don’t have to worry about her sending some weird monster in here when we’re trying to have a moment.” Virgil murmured, shifting so that his back pressed against the comforting warmth of Roman’s torso.

“No, you’re right, love,” Roman murmured sleepily against his neck, “I should listen to you more.”

Virgil hummed in agreement, his eyes suddenly becoming very heavy as the living warmth of Roman engulfed him. He had worked himself up for the past few days, and all of the mental and physical tension was taking its toll. He was suddenly exhausted.

“...I’m sorry I worry you so much, Virgil,” Roman murmured in his ear.

Virgil blinked back into wakefulness long enough to turn his neck as far as it could go and squint at Roman. The room was too dark for Virgil to accurately make out his features, but he could almost guarantee that Roman was looking self deprecating and apologetic again.

“Don’t be,” Virgil murmured, cuddling even closer to his boyfriend so that their legs became entangled under the blankets, “Anything you do that worries me is always either for my own benefit or everyone else’s. And though it can be really fucking awful sometimes, worrying so much, I’m always grateful when you finish whatever it was you were doing. Like right now, because of you killing the Dragon Witch, I finally feel…”

Virgil was lost for a good word to describe the utter complacency he felt in that exact moment.

“...Peaceful?” Roman offered, his voice fading as he was falling asleep.

Virgil grinned, taking the hand that was holding his chest and gently kissing it.

“Yes,” he whispered, “Peaceful.”

The hand squeezed his, but after a few moments, gradually loosened its grip. Roman’s deep breaths were smooth and even. He must be asleep.

“Goodnight, dork,” Virgil said, turning off his phone and closing his eyes.

“Goodnight, love,” Roman responded promptly yet sleepily, taking Virgil by surprise.

There was a few moments of peaceful silence.

“I love you, Roman.”

“I love you too, Virgil.”

Summer crickets and katydids could be heard outdoors, and a calm Western breeze blew in from an open window. The two figures curled close together were lulled off to sleep by the gentle sounds of their beating hearts.

This time, they did not have to strain themselves to hear the other’s heartbeat. Here, their heartbeats were together. Here, their heartbeats were peaceful and safe.

Here, they were home.

~fin~

@celiawhatsherlastname @monikastec@jordandobbertin@greymane902 @lostgirlgwen @kittenvirgil@iamahumanwaitnothatsalie @logan-logic @jet-black-hearted-girl@gay-ace-trash@shadowjag@thestoryoferissur @lexboydfandompanda

(if any of you nerds want to be added to my general taglist, please message me or comment on this post, gods bless you all)

[collecting-stories]

Proposal - Tommy Shelby

Request: Before leaving for war Tommy asks his girlfriend to marry him. 

Able Masterlist | Peaky Blinders Masterlist

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

You had been mentioning, for the better part of a week, that you would love to go to the countryside. Away from the smog of Birmingham and out to the clean air and green grass of the country. He had a caravan that belonged to a relative of his mother and you desperately wanted to go out for a week in it. No business, no nosy family members, no watching after children that weren’t yours. Just you and Tommy alone for a week in a caravan.  

“It’s not romantic, whether you want to believe it is or not.” Tommy stated as soon as you were finished explaining all the pros of going away with him.

“It is a little romantic Tommy. Just think, the two of us alone for a week. We could park it on a hill somewhere and it’d be wonderful.” You replied.  

“Absolutely not.” Tommy replied.  

He only had three weeks left in Birmingham before training. You knew those three weeks were going to be filled with business but you just wanted a week with each other before he was gone for an immeasurable amount of time. You had told Tommy that you were proud of him for joining the army, and honestly you were, but the fear of sending him off and never having him return plagued you constantly. You didn’t want to voice that fear to him but you hoped spending time together would calm you.  

“Why?”  

“What if something happens while we’re away? With the shop?” He asked. The work day was over and Tommy was sitting at one of the tables going over the books.  

“I’m sure Arthur and John are more than capable of managing.” You replied.  

“I need to make sure everything is order before I leave.”  

“Tommy, I just want us to spend some time together before you leave. I don’t want to send you off thinking your last memories of Birmingham are sitting over books, balancing bets.” You stated.  

“Three days.”

“A week Thomas.”

“I can’t do a week.” Tommy replied. “Three days.”

“A week.”

“Three days.”

“A week Thomas, or I’ll go myself.”  

“You give me a fucking headache.” Tommy stood up and walked over to you, kissing your forehead, “but I love you so a week it is.”

“I love you too.” You smiled. You already had two small bags packed for the week so you were relieved he said yes to going a whole week away from Small Heath.  

Tommy pulled the caravan around in the morning, checking the reins on the horse while you sat on the front steps of the betting shop, watching him work. The sun was just coming up and Tommy was insistent that if you and he didn’t leave now then there would be no week long holiday. You were more than happy to obliged, getting dressed quickly that morning and coming downstairs with the bags in your hands. You had even stayed up last night making food for the trip.  

“I want you to know this is a terrible idea.” Tommy called, waving you to come down the stairs.

“But just think how happy you’re making me.”

“Why do you think I agreed to this?” He stated.  

Tommy came around the back of the caravan and took the bags from you. Once everything was where it needed to be he helped you up into the front seat beside him. The ride out to the country wasn’t too long though you did dose off a few times.  

Once he was out of Small Heath Tommy could think more clearly about what this week really was. The ring Polly had given him belonged to his grandmother on his mother’s side. She had hoped that one of her girls would use it but neither had been made honest women and so Polly held on to it, in hopes that someday she would pass it on to her sister’s children.  

When Tommy had finally caved to the idea of going on a caravan trip with you he had asked Polly for the ring. John had been given a ring from Martha’s father that had been an heirloom of her family and no one thought that Arthur would be married so it Polly gave the ring to her second oldest nephew. He had felt overwhelmingly confident in his decision until he got in the caravan with you that morning.  

It was the ride out to the countryside that gave him pause. What if you said no? What if the thought of this lifestyle, of the Peaky Blinders and Tommy’s future plans to expand the business were not what you wanted? Could you envision yourself caring for his children and tending to his house someday? What if you met someone while he was in France, or worse even, what if he didn’t come back? The thoughts plagued his mind all afternoon. He finally decided that he would ask you immediately upon arrival. That way it was done with and he didn’t have to worry.  

And so he did.  

The caravan was parked at the bottom of a small hill, near a tree, just as you had requested. Tommy fixed everything up so it was perfect before he woke you. He couldn’t remember a time when he had felt more nervous than this moment. He didn’t think he’d ever feel this way again.  

“Oh wow,” you were oblivious to his nervousness, instead distracted by the scenery. “This is wonderful.”

“It’s quite something.” Tommy noted.  

You swung your legs around the side of the caravan and Tommy put his hands on your knees. He stopped you from sliding down the seat, holding you in place with the gentle press of his palms on your thighs, just above your bent knees.  

“Tommy, are you alright?” It was then you noticed the odd way your boyfriend was behaving.  

“I’m fine love, I need to speak to you about something important.”  

“Can it not wait? This is the first time I’ve been out of the city Tommy.”

“It’s about me going to France.” Tommy explained. His thumbs rubbed across the tops of your knees, more to distract himself than anything else.  

“What is it?” You feared the worse when he mentioned France. Thinking maybe he was leaving for training earlier than expected.  

“I know it’s a lot to ask of you, to think that while I’m away in France you’ll be here waiting for me. It’s selfish to assume that you’d put your life on hold for me-”

“Tommy I already told you I’ll be here when you get back.” You replied, cutting him off.

“I know, I know, just let me finish.” He squeezed your knees gently. “You remember that kid, when you were younger, that used to follow you home and throw rocks at you?”

“I don’t know what that has to do with France, but yeah, I remember.”

“Well, when I saw him the one day… I can’t explain it but I got so angry seeing him there, bothering you, that I followed him home and broke his leg. I told him if he ever even looked at you again I’d know and I’d send my brothers round after him.”

“Tommy!”  

“I did it cause even then, even that young I knew I loved you. And I know it even more now. I’m getting ready to leave for France, to serve my country and protect my family… protect you… and I don’t want to go knowing or thinking that I left you here without letting you know I love you.”

“Of course I know you love me Tommy. You agreed to a week of caravaning because I asked. It’s quite clear from my end that you love me.” You replied. “I love you as well.”

“I want you to know the whole time I’m gone, and should I not return I want it to be a reminder to you.”

“What are you on about?”

Tommy let go of one knee, reaching into his jacket pocket where he had been keeping the ring. It was kept safe in a small satin pouch fastened with a ribbon and he presented it to you that way, as a gift waiting to be unwrapped. You looked at him curiously as your pulled the pouch open and emptied it’s contents onto his awaiting hand. When you saw the ring you gasped, dropping the pouch in the dirt and nearly kicking Tommy in surprise.  

He squeezed your knees again to calm you and then reached out to take your hands from your face. You had already begun to cry. Of course Tommy loved you and you were overflowing with love for him but it never occurred to you that he could think of marrying you. He didn’t seem like that type that thought about that sort of thing.  

“I would like you to wear this, knowing that when I return we’ll be married. I want this on your finger every day to remind you that I love you and that my heart is yours.” He slid the ring on your finger and kissed your knuckles.

“Yes of course,” you cried, “now get me down from here so we can celebrate this properly.”

-

tagged: @weirdnewbie @ducks-are-kwl @crowleyismybabycakes @photograiphy-00 @clairyfaiiry @ifoundmyhappythought @thinemineours @baygabb @yourenotmytype @smashablepieces

[juliebeanbook]

ten: so I’ll take what I can get

November came in snowy and wet, covering the city in slush and salt. The horrid weather meant that the audiences for our shows most weeks were a lot sparser than they had been back in the summer; on one particularly bad day, we played for a crowd of seven cold and damp individuals. Although we had dud weeks where the city seemed to have very little interest in a “folk/rock group with a lesbian leprechaun” (Dex’s catchy slogan for us), Cal insisted that we keep playing every Friday. (We’d only missed a few shows since I’d joined the band; a couple times because of Friday night midterms, once because of Dex’s birthday, and once because Cal had cooked for us the night before and none of us could get out of bed the next day.) He wanted us to become a “fixture” at the Moonlight, which I figured we probably were by now after six months, but according to Cal, we had to keep showing up.

So that’s how I ended up walking to the Moonlight in the dark in the middle of a snowstorm the second Friday of November, snow sticking in my hair and freezing the collar of my coat, cursing Cal to hell with every step my boots made into the ankle-deep slush on the sidewalk.

Pushing open the big wooden door into the café, the warm rush of air hit me like opening the door of an oven. My fingers and toes burned as they adjusted to the climate inside; I shrugged off my jacket and surveyed the room. Surprisingly, a sizable crowd of people had gathered, huddled around each other to keep warm; Vera was weaving around groups, passing out steaming mugs of coffee and tea. Dex was setting his drums up on the stage and he waved when he saw me. “Check this crowd out!” he cried.

“Why so many people today?” I wondered as I took my guitar out of its case, propped it on my knee to tune.

“Maybe they came in to escape the storm?” Dex theorized. “I don’t really care why they’re here though. As long as we can keep ‘em here I’ll be happy.”

When Cal came in, a flurry of snow following him through the door, he grinned at the number of people that had collected in the café. “Now this is what I’m talking about,” he said. “We’re a fixture, I told you! They know we’ll be here every week, they’re catching on.”

“Who’s ‘they’?” I asked Dex, and he shrugged.

Emmy arrived last, shaking her hair to rid it of snow. She swept her red waves up into a loose bun and dropped her coat beside the stage. “Full house!” she announced excitedly. She was right – a few more people had come into the café when she had, and now the place was nearly at capacity.

“It’s because we’re a fixture now,” I told her, and she snorted.

We had an almost completely new setlist this week; Emmy had written a bunch of new songs over the last few weeks, and we’d come up with great arrangements. The songs were slightly angsty but fun and poppy, incorporating copious amounts of fiddle solos from Em and drum fills from Dex. Our last song was full of clapping and a cappella bits, and we had the audience clapping along and singing once they’d learned the hook.

I shouldn’t be here; it isn’t healthy. My heart’s out of tune, and now I’m singing off-key.

As the last of the applause died down and the crowd began to mill about, I felt full and warm, like I’d just drank a mug of cocoa. We all began to pack up, clicking our cases closed, laughing as we went, breathless and exhilarated. A good show went straight to your head like a strong drink.

As the guys mingled with the audience (trying oh-so-subtly to get out of helping take down), I picked up the mic and some pickup cables, and Emmy grabbed an amp, and together we ventured up the Stairs of Death. I followed close behind her, spotting her in case she tipped backward and the amp threatened to crush her. At the second floor landing, I pushed open the door of the storage room, and we dropped our equipment inside, the room hazy and dusty and dim.

The heavy old door slammed closed behind me, making us both jump.

The room was dark, the only light coming from the moon outside, casting Emmy in shades of muted grey. She pushed her bangs out of her face and laughed shortly. “Jesus,” she muttered. “Scare the shit outta me, would ya?”

I didn’t say anything back; my words weren’t quite reaching my throat.

Emmy looked at me, her mouth slightly open; the room was so quiet I could hear her breathing. I was suddenly extremely conscious of how close we were standing, by accident, simply by virtue of how we’d stumbled into the room; the cold air from the windows, slightly open, chilled against my skin, but I felt overwhelmingly hot.

My breathing stopped.

Then Emmy was kissing me, her hands gentle and pulling at the arms of my sweater, her lips warm and way softer than I would have guessed. I stood unmoving for a second, paralyzed by the surprise.

But then, without deciding anything, without thinking, I kissed her back. I pressed up into her, my hands weaving around her neck. Her hands wound around my waist to press against the small of my back and I curved into her, my fingers running through the downy curls at the nape of her neck. Her hands snuck under the back of my sweater, and her fingers were so cold against my overheated skin that I gasped.

I pulled away, my forehead resting against hers, my breathing fast and shallow. I had never been this near to Emmy before, and standing so close I could see her light red lashes, the sprinkle of freckles across her eyelids, over her nose. Her hands still rested on my waist; by now, the temperature of her skin had warmed up to match mine.

The lack of thinking caught up with me then, and I was suddenly overwhelmed. I broke away from her hold completely, stepping back, her hands hanging there for a moment in the place where I had been before she shoved them in her pockets.

“Em…” I started but couldn’t finish. I looked down at my hands; they were shaking.

“I’m sorry,” she said quickly, her gaze fixed on the scuffed wooden floor underneath us.

“I’ve got to go,” I said, walking backwards till I got to the door. I pulled it open and ran down the stairs, barely pausing to throw on my jacket and grab my guitar before bursting out of the café into the snow. I tipped my head up, drinking in the cold air like it was water.

I left my coat unbuttoned as I walked home, craving the coolness of the wind. But by the time I got back to the apartment, I was shivering, and I couldn’t stop. I stripped out of my wet clothes and wrapped a bathrobe around me, and then I sat on the floor of my bedroom and rested my head in my arms and cried.

//

I decided that all I wanted to do with my weekend was hibernate. So I hoarded all the comfort food we had in the apartment (Oreos, cheese, half a jar of Nutella), found an old sweatshirt of Jamie’s that I only wore when I knew I wasn’t going to encounter other humans, and burrowed into a mound of pillows on my bed, trying to lose myself in studying for my physiology midterm. When that didn’t work, I switched to Netflix.

Partway through Saturday, Andy poked her head into my room. Before she could ask, I told her I was sick, and she left me alone.

After receiving the tenth text from Em asking if I was alive, I told her that I was, but that I was in hibernation mode. I thought she’d gotten the memo, but a few minutes later my phone rang.

“Hey, you,” Emmy said as I answered, rising into an upright position.

“Hey.”

“Okay, I’m going to predict where you are right now.”

“Go for it.”

“You’re on your couch, wearing those ratty grey sweatpants, eating Nutella off a spoon and watching an old black and white movie.”

I looked down and pick at a hole in my sweats. “Well, you’re right about the pants.”

“And about the Nutella?”

“Well…yeah. It’s done now though.” I glanced at the empty jar on my bedside table and sighed deeply. “I’m in my bed though, and I’m watching Orange Is the New Black, so you’re wrong there.”

“Ooh, I love that show. Which season are you on?”

“The first. I just started. There are, like, a shitload of lesbians in this show.”

“I know right? My kin,” Em said in a creepy Gollum voice, and I laughed.

She laughed too, but then the line went silent. I lay back down and sighed again.

“So how’re you doing?”

“Not great,” I admitted.

“Do you want to talk about –”

“Nope.”

“Jules, I think –”

“Nope.”

“Okay, okay. We’ll wait. You know we’ll have to talk about it sometime though, right?”

“Yeah, I know.” I’d spent all day trying not to think about it, but it kept creeping into my head uninvited, making my stomach flutter. “I’ve just got to…figure some shit out first.”

“For sure. I know what that’s like.” Emmy’s voice held so much understanding that I was tempted to just tip over like a full glass of water and spill everything to her, but at this point I wasn’t sure what would come out.

My room was darker now; the sun had set. I got up and wandered into the living room, flicking on a lamp and the TV and checking what was on that night. “Hey, Emmy?”

“Yeah?”

“Andy’s out with Dex tonight, and I feel like I should probably get in some human interaction before the day ends…do you want to come over and, like, watch a movie or something? Indiana Jones is going to be on at nine.”

“So you want to just watch Indy –”

“And not talk about anything. Yes.”

“I could do that. Do you want me to bring anything? I have some chips here…” I could hear her rustling around her cupboard. “Ooh, peppermint patties!”

“Yes and yes,” I giggled.

“Okay, I’ll be over in five,” she said, and I settled into the couch, my ear hot where my phone had been pressed against it.

Em showed up just before Indy started, a bag of Ruffles and a package of candy in tow. She sat on the old floral couch beside me, leaned against the back of it and turned her head to look at me. I looked back at her, and her face softened. “You okay?” she asked.

“It’s been quite a month,” I said in reply.

She ripped open the bag of chips. “I know. I’m sorry. But it’ll get easier,” she said, tipping the bag toward me, and something in her voice assured me that it would. “Here. Eat.”

It was nice, and it was easy, sitting with Em and watching Raiders of the Lost Ark; we didn’t talk much, but having her there made me feel better. Neither of us mentioned what had happened the previous night, and for the most part I was doing a damn good job of forgetting the fact that twenty-four hours ago her lips were pressed against mine and now we were sitting with barely an inch between our legs. Sometimes though, we’d laugh at something in the movie and she’d turned to face me, her eyes dancing, and I couldn’t help the warmth spreading through me like rich red wine.

[yellowrocketship]

Out in the Woods: How Some Old Trees Helped Me Figure Out How to Love Myself

I wrote and performed this story for a Feb. 12, 2017 storytelling event called Stories for Change, a benefit for a sexual violence prevention center at the U of M.

I grew up not far from here, in the last of the Big Woods, surrounded on all sides by towering basswood and red oak and sugar maple. On boiling hot July afternoons, I’d walk down to the woods and wade up to my shins in the ice cold creek. Crisp days in September were spent running up and down hills, tripping over logs, trying to find the brightest fallen leaves. But the most exciting time of year for me was Spring, when all the woodland wildflowers would bloom. I’d collect them by the handfuls and bring them back home, usually broken and half-wilted by the time I finally got through the door. Those woods were an endless source of entertainment, of comfort, of so many fresh-picked raspberries that I’d eat until my arms were scratched from the thorns, my hands were stained red and my belly ached.

I built my own private world there. Even if a friend tagged along on the occasional excursion, I knew they could never see the woods as I did, feel the trees breathing with me. It was a place only I could experience, a place that lived inside my head as much as it lived outside of it, a place of beauty, where no thought or feeling or action was wrong as long as it came from good intentions.

I knew from an early age how I felt about girls. I just didn’t know it was anything different than how others felt. I remember the first time I kissed a girl, sitting in the shade on a hot summer day. She leaned in, pecked me on the mouth, and then we both collapsed into giggles. It felt so natural, I didn’t question it.

It wasn’t until one day in high school that I finally learned just how different I was. Somebody in my friend group had made some dumb offhand comment like “Why isn’t there a straight pride parade?” Being a calm, level-headed 16-year-old, I coolly brushed off his remark.

No I didn’t. I was a teenager. I yelled at him and then went home and cried to my mommy. I always thought of my mom as the most progressive, accepting person in the world. She’d always taught me that everyone was important and deserved love, no matter who they were. Which is why it hurt all the more when she just didn’t understand why I was getting so upset over a stupid thing some boy said, when I told her “He’s insulting my friends, my family, even… me.” I’d never thought of it that way before.

“I don’t know about that, your cousin was a LUG, you know.”

Ouch. L. U. G. spells Lesbian Until Graduation. It’s perfectly normal to experiment with the same gender in college and while often people find they identify as straight afterward, this term is too often used to deny bisexual identities by minimizing someone’s orientation to “just a phase.” I was shocked by how casually she said this, so.. I pushed the issue. I told her outright: “Mom, I like girls.” I left the “and boys” out because, well, she had met my last boyfriend so I figured she knew that part. She didn’t take this well. As she started crying about how she would never get grandchildren, I threw on some rain boots and slipped out the door.

I felt so betrayed. I could always tell my mom everything, but now, when I needed her support the most, I didn’t want to tell her anything. I didn’t know what to do.

So I ran to the woods. It was spring, so the small creek that ran at the bottom of the deep ravine was thawing out and filling with snowmelt. The chickadees and nuthatches were beginning to sing, a sure sign of warmer weather to come. I stepped onto the trail, wiped my feet to prevent the spread of invasive species, and had the distinct feeling of coming home.

When you’re young and queer, it’s hard to find your place in the world. You live in between, more worried about how you pass than who you are. If you pass as straight, you won’t have trouble in school but you will probably have trouble in your lovelife. If you pass as gay, you’ll have a chance at love but your life will likely be made hell by your peers and you could end up on the streets. A 16 year old in the suburbs, I was so concerned with my image. I’d get Juicy brand velour sweatsuits and ugg boots bought off of Ebay after saving up for months so I could look like all the other girls. I wore them like camouflage. They fit terribly. They were always too tight and stretched awkwardly over my chubby adolescent body. I felt forced into this mold that so clearly wasn’t meant for me, but I had no idea who else I could be.

In the woods that afternoon I was angry at the world for not understanding me, and angry at myself for the same reason. Lost in thought, I wandered off the trail and nearly tripped over a branch that I quickly sidestepped to avoid. When I lifted my foot I realized I had stepped on a jack-in-the-pulpit, a rare flower native to these woods and one of my mom’s favorites. I felt too big for my body, like my clumsiness would end up hurting everyone. I made my way carefully down the hill to the ravine, watching every step. At the bottom of the hill I looked up to the opposite side and saw a young deer peering down at me. Watching. We stared at each other for what seemed like forever until finally he seemed satisfied I wasn’t a threat and slowly walked on, his white tail waving like a flag.

I spent the rest of the afternoon following the creek down to the small lake. I could feel the coldness of the water radiating through my rain boots and wool socks, but my feet stayed dry so I kept going. I arrived at the lake and found a huge tree cut down and lying on its side. I counted the rings for a while but got bored as soon as I got up to 70 and realized there were still more to go. I climbed on top. The damp moss that covered it left spots and green stains on my near threadbare velour sweatpants. Looking out at the lake, I realized just how big the woods were. I felt as if I had been walking forever. I tucked my hair back in my hood and laid back on the tree, staring up at the canopy overhead. Most trees had leaves at this point but I could still see the white sky like lace where they parted.

At that moment, I had two thoughts. The first was that I felt so overwhelmingly loved. I couldn’t pin down where or who it was coming from, but the sensation washed over my body, warm like a hug. The second was that I was so small. I was laying on a tree at least 5 times my age, surrounded by others even older. These woods had been around thousands of years and had watched millions of lives: human, deer, insect, bird. I could be myself, exactly where I was and fit in perfectly. When you walk into the woods, the trees don’t care who you are or how you feel or who you love or whether you think you’re a good person or not. They just want you to tread lightly and show care.

I felt my phone vibrate. A text from my mom. “Coming home 4 dinner?” Apparently I was worth feeding, even if I would never give her grandchildren. I weighed my options. I could stay in the woods forever, but the raspberry bushes wouldn’t ripen for another 3 months, and I only had half a granola bar in my pocket. I hopped off the old tree and stepped back on the trail towards home.

We didn’t talk about my identity again until I was almost 21. It hurt at first, not being able to share my experience with her, but soon I forgot it was ever an issue. It seemed like my mom had also forgiven and forgotten. We were driving to Pride and talking about something or another when I mentioned being queer.

“Oh, you are?” She sounded slightly surprised.

“Mom, I’ve been out for years. Don’t you remember? I came out to you when I was 16.”

“Oh. Well, I don’t remember. But ok.”

While it was strange that such a huge moment for me was so easily forgotten for her, I was happy she was finally accepting me for who I was. I learned later that she hadn’t had the same open-minded sexual education that I had, and she understood that she had to make a choice. My mom chose to marry a man and have a family. It wasn’t that she didn’t approve of who I was, it was that she didn’t understand how much the world had changed. Well, most of the world, at least.

After I got back from Pride, I went out to the woods again. It had been almost 3 years since I had last set foot in those woods, but I felt drawn there that evening. I covered myself with bugspray and started out on the trail to find some sort of.. reconciliation, I think. Sometimes you seek forgiveness even when you’ve done nothing wrong. I turned the corner and found myself staring at.. a jack-in-the-pulpit, and then another, and then another, and then a sea of green-and-burgundy striped cones unfurled and dancing in the dappled light.

I am so small, but I am deeply loved.

[gaylordepicboy]

Mark and Jack Join the Fake AH Crew (for a little while, at least).

Geoff had gathered the crew together in his spare apartment to wait for the new arrivals that would be helping them on their next heist. These men were in the same business as the crew but worked primarily solo. Both were revered in the worst ways for their chaotic yet brutally effective style. They were loose canons: trigger happy, overwhelmingly destructive, apathetic and reckless: precisely the added edge the crew needed for this mission. Due to their individual successes, the duo came at a steep price and arrived on their own terms. Geoff thought it only appropriate that the men be properly introduced (whenever it was that they arrived) and that the crew should come off as intimidatingly well organized as possible. 

 This was the infamous Fake AH Crew.

 And they had a reputation to uphold. 

There was just one problem- Geoff had forgotten that the crew members weren't accustomed to sitting in one place for long periods of time. Barely an hour had passed and Gavin was already daring Michael to fence against Jeremy: one with the fire poker and the other with the ember shovel. "Hey, why does he get the pointy one!?" Michael protested, "And I get the shovel thing!? This is fucking bullshit..."  Ryan was trying to diffuse the situation, patting the air and cooing "Boys, boys, leave the fencing to the professionals. Let's not kill each other before giving someone else the satisfaction of trying first, alright?" Jeremy crouched, posturing in a clumsily mimicked fencing position, "Think you could do better, huh?" He was eying Ryan like a mischievous puppy that wanted to play. "I could fence you with my switchblade right now, even if you actually knew the proper fire-poker wielding technique," Ryan flicked out his blade, a playful gleam in his calculating eyes, and settled into a fighting stance. Jack was making bets with Gavin on who was going to win until Michael wrestled the Brit to the ground. Geoff watched disdainfully, warning "If one of you fuckers knocks over my expensive whiskey someone is actually gonna die!"  

Suddenly there was a knock at the door. 

 Everyone stopped- Jeremy standing on the table with the poker poised above his head and Ryan below, daring a glance at the door with his open switchblade held defensively before him. Michael dropped the ember shovel, releasing a gasping Gavin from an iron choke hold, and Jack hopped down from the bar where she'd been cheering to creep up behind Geoff. "Is that them?" She whispered. "How the hell should I know, I haven't opened the goddamn door!" Geoff hissed back. "Then quit whisper-yelling at me and go open the goddamn door!" "FINE!” Geoff’s volume had graduated to a stern yell, “But when I open that door this room better be presentable as dicks!" "Yes, sir!..... Colby!" Jeremy saluted, turned, and launched the fire poker in hopes of arcing it into the rack by the fire place. The flying iron spear chipped against the surrounding brick with shriek and clattered to the ground. "Oops." Geoff heaved an exasperated sigh and muttered his way to the door, half expecting whoever was there to have left by now. The visitor certainly hadn't left, as Geoff quickly discovered; instead, he had reclined lengthwise along the railing of the stairwell's landing with one leg hanging off the side and the other firmly planted on the rail for balance. The man unclasped his hands from behind his head and turned to look at Geoff, repositioning himself like a French model on a balance beam with a self-satisfied smirk. "I figured I'd let myself in, but I didn't want to be rude and interrupt whatever you guys had going on in there. Sounded like it was getting pretty heated," The man spoke calmly, his voice like the rumble of thunder on a warm night. It was almost enough to make one forget that he had just bypassed an advanced security system and six strategically placed door locks. Geoff was already starting to feel like he'd made a monumental mistake, but it was too late to turn back now. This kid better not be more trouble than he's worth... "Well, gee, I can’t imagine what we could’ve done to deserve so much of your discretion. Or is this just how you kiss up to all your employers?" The man smiled again, "Only the ones I like." In one fluid motion, he grabbed the duffel bag lying next to him with one hand and held the railing with the other, swinging his feet over onto the ground and landing squarely in front of Geoff. "So, where's this 'crew' I've heard so much about? Rumor has it you're the most formidable gang in Los Santos, I'd hate to think you'd take all that credit for yourself." "You obviously underestimate just how much of an egomaniac I am,” Geoff retorted, “ And it's not a rumor, kid, we're the real deal. You'd better learn that pretty damn fast or this job is gonna suck, I'll tell you right now." "Heh. I think I'll be the judge of that." Geoff grimaced at the man’s flagrant arrogance, if only because it rivaled his own, "Wipe that dumbass smile off your face and follow me." Inside he was frantically praying to every deity he denied the existence of that the crew had gotten their act together. He wasn't about to be made a mockery of, especially by this pretentious delinquent.

Was he? 

Apparently, the Gods were feeling generous towards the nonbelievers that day, because waiting for him in the other room was nothing short of a miracle. The lights had been dimmed and the electric shades on the surrounding windows were closed, allowing the burning logs in the fire place to cast an eerie glow across the faces of the crew members. Gavin was reclining in the arm chair with his feet propped up on the coffee table, lazily shuffling and reshuffling his deck of gold-laced playing cards; Jeremy used the windowsill like a bench, resting his elbows on his knees and slouching so that the brim of his cowboy hat just barely covered his eyes; Ryan had thrown on his mask was now leaning against the brick of the fire place with his arms crossed; Michael took over the couch, his arms splayed out along the back cushions on either side of him, a burning cigarette hanging loosely from his mouth; Jack sat at the adjacent bar and took a long swig of the beer she had been nursing, brining it down on the marble counter with a decisive clonk when Geoff and the visitor walked in. This is just too goddamn beautiful, Geoff thought, surveying the scene, Man, I'm gonna have to do something special for this one. Maybe buy 'em some fireworks or, no, you know what? I'll get 'em the whole goddamn store!... "Well, if no one's gonna introduce themselves I guess I'll start," the man, who had for the last few seconds been impatiently shifting from foot to foot, cleared his throat, "Hello everybody, my name is Markiplier." 

 The crew members looked him up and down: from his pink- laced running sneakers to his pink and black leather jacket to his dark hair that fell to one side in a stylishly messy quiff. "Bloody well took your damn time gettin'ere din't you?" Gavin chided. "He sure did," responded Michael through smokey puffs. "Hey, hold on a second here," Jeremy held out his hand as if the Force was telling him something was off, "We aren't paying for just one ridiculously expensive criminal, so where's your friend, huh?" "Oh, don't worry, he'll be here. Honestly, I wouldn't worry about it if I were you," the smirk that had reemerged on Mark's face faded slightly when he noticed Ryan by the fire place. He turned to the bar, where Geoff had poured himself a glass of whiskey and motioned to Ryan with a nod of his head, "What's up with Skeletor over there? Not much of a talker, is he?" "He's probably still deciding whether or not he's going to kill you," Jack replied. "How will I know?" "You won't. But honestly, I wouldn't worry about it if I were you,” with that Jack shot Mark a pointed glance and took a disinterested swig of beer. "Riiiiiight...." Mark looked back at Ryan, who had turned his head slightly and stared back- his mask creating two endless pits of black void where his eyes would be. Mark felt an involuntary shiver creep up his spine and tried to look anywhere else. Luckily, a distracting crash followed by the sound of splintering wood and crumbling plaster erupted from the entryway. "See? What'd I tell you?" Mark's smile returned full force as he and the rest of the crew rushed out to check the damage. 

 "ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME!?" Geoff was ranting, "I DISH OUT THE MONEY TO PAY YOU TWO SCHMUCKS AND NOW I GOTTA GET A NEW DOOR!? C'MON!" "Sorry, man, but you had this placed locked up like a high security prison'r somethin'!" A figure appeared from the wreckage, batting the dust off his torn-up denim vest with one gloved hand, and dragging his own duffel bag with the other. The crew could make out a sprig of green hair escaping from beneath his gray ivy cap. "You couldn't have just KNOCKED?" Geoff cried. "Oh... Yea coulda done that, couldn't I? the man said with a chuckle, “But you knew I was here didn't ya?!" He took a second to take in the astonished faces surrounding him, "Well, ain't this a fine group a'people ya got here? Top of the mornin' to ya laddies, my name is JackSepticeye! At your service!" He bowed dramatically low and nearly tripped on the shattered remains of the door, chuckling again, "Oh dear, this is gonna be a problem now in’it?”  "No shit Sherlock!" Michael snapped. Geoff pinched the bridge of his nose, he was still seething but took a breath, coming to terms with the absolute mess in front of him. The door was the least of his problems. "You know, I'm not getting paid enough to deal with shit like this right now, and neither are any of you until we get our hands on a whole shit load of money. So, here's what we're gonna do: we're gonna go in there, sit our asses down, and have a cozy fucking chat about what we need to do to make sure this heist goes fine and dandy and that we all go home alive and, more importantly, rich. Now who's coming with me?" The tensity in the room practically created sparks in the air, but as each person remembered their shared purpose the electricity dissipated into unsettled contentment. Glances passed between the crew members, to Mark and Jack, then back again. "JackSepticeye, huh?” Jeremy stepped forward, “I'd call you Jack, but as it happens that position’s already been filled." “Hey, no worries, man, you can just call me Sam if gets confusin' for ya." "Or we could just start calling Jack 'Mum'," Gavin chimed in. "Oooh, you got yourselves a Britt, I see. We aren’t gonna have a problem now are we, bro?" "Depends,” Gavin considered, “If you'll show me how to do that little door bit I think we'll get along excellently." "Man, I like this dude!" Jack offered a high-five which Gavin accepted, and the two began chatting excitedly. 

Mark felt a tap on his shoulder and wheeled around to see a black skull in a leather jacket standing uncomfortably close behind him. "Oh, uh, hey there buddy. Sorry about the whole... "Skeletor" thing earlier. Y’know I’ll bet you're actually a really nice guy under there." In response, Ryan carefully removed his mask, exposing piercing blue eyes, dark hair pulled back in a ponytail, and meticulously applied face paint. He fixed Mark with a cold stare, then looked down at the mask in his hands and scoffed, "I wouldn't go so far as to call myself nice, but I wouldn't kill you for no reason if that's any consolation." "I'll take the consolation prize if it means your less likely to kill me dead," "Yea, right. Besides, having a reason makes killing much more fun, really gets the blood pumping, you know?" "Haha... Yea uh... Totally." "Hey Ryan, quit harassing the new guy and give someone else a turn, will ya!" Michael cut in. "I wasn't harassing anyone!,” Ryan insisted, putting his hands up as if to plead innocence, “We were just having a pleasant conversation, weren't we Mark?" "Yep, no harassing going on over here! Just talking about killing...stuff,” he explained with a stiff thumbs up and a forced grin. "Well, while we're on the subject let me tell you about this one asshole I had to deal with the other day. Oh my god this guy was fucking annoying as shit!..." Eventually, the whole crew began mingling with their temporary additions rather successfully. The only fight that broke out was between Mark and Jeremy, but even that was fueled by friendly competition over who was the strongest proportionate to their height. Geoff and Jack watched like proud parents from the sidelines, marveling at the fact that the situation had deescalated without any broken bones. Somehow, the crew had found it within themselves to welcome these two into their ranks, if only for a few days. 

 And maybe, just maybe, there was a tiny sliver of a possibility that this whole thing would work out.

[giantbandgeeks]

winter sound: nine

backyard//eight//story page//1dff

nine: february 2028

harry

Olive thought she was sneaking down the stairs, but Molly and I heard her hit the squeaky top step and gave each other a quick glance before hiding what we had been doing. My wife was yawning and rubbing her eyes when she turned the corner to see the pair of us sitting at the peninsula. We had hung up little pink hearts everywhere in addition to the ones she had stuck to the window that faced the driveway a couple days ago, and I knew she could probably have smelled exactly what we were making the moment she woke up.

“What are you two sneaking around about?” She plopped down onto the third stool, leaning forward on her elbows so she could look at us. “Don’t look at me like that. You’re crazy if you think I didn’t smell food from upstairs.”

“Okay, fine,” Molly broke, sliding off her seat and walking around the corner to pull the tray of Olive’s breakfast out of its hiding spot. “It was supposed to be breakfast in bed but you ruined it.”

“I’m sorry!” Olive was smiling, watching Molly as she slid the plate of food over to her. I had to sway Molly away from making bacon because Olive had gotten sick the last time she had just whiffed it, but she didn’t notice that her mum was eating foods that were easy on her stomach. It seemed like Olive had been sick since she told me that she was pregnant, having to stay around Surrey rather than into the studio with me because of how terrible she was feeling, but things had been looking up the past few days. “Thank you, Mols.”

“Hey! I cooked all of that!”

“Thank you to you too,” My wife scooted over, pressing a brief kiss to my lips. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” I smirked, pointing to a box on the tray that Molly had left on the other end of the counter.

“We said no presents,” She deadpanned, not making a move past raising a piece of toast to her mouth.

“It’s not from me!” I raised my hands, immediately responding so that Olive wouldn’t start crying. Surprises had been doing that to her lately, and we still hadn’t told Molly about the baby. We didn’t need her to get any ideas. “It was all Molly’s idea! I just drove her to the store.”

“Yeah,” Molly cheered, handing the box to her mum. It was quiet for a moment as Olive gently opened the pink and red wrapping. “I paid for it myself and everything.”

“Oh, Molly,” Olive had pulled the silver bracelet out of its box, and the second the little charm that read ‘Mum’ sunk in, a hand clamped over her mouth and tears started streaming down her face.

“Do you like it?” My daughter timidly asked, taking in Olive’s reaction.

“I love it. Come here,” She slid off the stool and pulled Molly to her chest, placing a kiss on the top of her head. “I’m so happy to be your mum.”

“I’m happy that you’re my mum too,” I heard Molly whisper and I nearly started crying. When they broke apart, Molly held up her wrist, “I have the daughter one.”

“They’re perfect,” Olive wiped away her tears and settled back into her stool. Molly also climbed up onto hers, and they both began chipping away at their breakfasts.

“You’ve never cried at any of my gifts,” I looked down at Olive, who had her fork with a cube of cantaloupe paused halfway between the plate and her mouth.

“I cried when you proposed, and on our wedding day,” She narrowed her eyes at me, finally getting the piece of fruit into her mouth.

“So did I! Neither of those events count as presents.”

“Maybe you’ve never gotten me anything this cool!” Olive glanced at Molly to make sure she wasn’t looking before mouthing ‘Hormones you dick’ and pointing at her belly. “Molly might just be the champion gift getter.”

“Whatever you say, my love.”

Olive only ate half of her breakfast before heading back upstairs. Molly and I had gotten up and ready earlier than a normal school day so we could try to surprise Olive, so she had to hustle to get dressed for our second court hearing. I followed her up after I was done, needing to grab a few things from the bedroom.

“Oh good,” She sighed when she saw that I had stepped behind her in the mirror. Olive had been struggling with something, but she really was almost completely ready. Her makeup was on, shirt buttoned up, and socks were on her feet. “I need help. My pants won’t do up. I didn’t even eat that much!”

“Maybe you’re getting to be a bit more than just bloat, then? Go lie flat on the bed,” I waved her over, and she did as I said. “Normally I’m trying to get you out of your pants, not into them,” I joked as I tried to zip and button her dress slacks, but they still wouldn’t go. The bump wasn’t even visible, but Olive had grown just enough so that her pants wouldn’t do up. “No luck. Is there anything else you can wear?”

“I mean, there is, but these are my only pair of dress-y pants, and I don’t want to wear a skirt. You know what, it’s probably because I barely wear them and they’re a bit smaller than my normal pants.”

“Is there anything you can do to fix it?”

“Yeah, I’ll just do the little hair tie trick and not tuck in my shirt,” She sighed, walking back into the bathroom. “I thought it was going to take longer for this to happen.”

“Your body has already done the bits up to nine weeks, so it knew what it was doing this far,” I pressed a kiss to her hairline before leading her out of the room. “It’ll probably be different from here on out, though.”

“You have a point. Hey, can we take my car?”

“It’s hard to do pick up and drop off in the mini, Ol,” I hit the bottom floor, where Molly had finished putting on her shoes and was picking up her backpack. “Plus, I’m going to be the one ending up driving, and I hate driving the mini.”

“Fine, then I need to grab something from it,” She picked up her shoes and led the way out to the car. Molly and I were getting situated in the range rover while Olive leaned in the passenger side door of her mini cooper and grabbed something out of the glove box. It wasn’t until we were on the M25 into London that I saw what it was.

“Hershey's kisses? Really?”

“Really really,” She smirked, popping one into her mouth. “It’s the only safe hiding spot that you and Molly won’t find.”

“You’re something else.”

“I know.”

~

Our court hearing was a much quieter affair this time around, only the judge, Mr Hale, Olive, and I were in the room. I was surprised that Olive didn’t continue eating her chocolate as the proceedings went on, but the bag was safely tucked into the glovebox of my car.

It was a quicker hearing than last time too, but the judge had had weeks to look over all of the information on us, and the references our close friends and family had drawn up for the battle with Mara had to be swaying the judge in our favor. There was just always that possibility that he might decide that Molly was better off without a second parent, even though I wouldn’t be able to understand how he came to that conclusion.

“Today’s subject is the adoption of Margaret Styles by her step mother Olympia Styles, correct?”

“Yes, Sir,” Mr Hale responded. He had told us prior to the start of the hearing he considered it to be in the bag. Which eased our anxiety a bit, but I was still nervous and I could tell that Olive was too.

“Mrs Styles, why do you wish to be the child’s mother?”

“With all due respect Your Honor, I already feel like I am. I’ve known her since she was three years old, so for over six years now, I love her like I would my own biological child, and I want to be tied to her in every possible way. She calls me her mum, and having that be legalized would just reaffirm the feelings that are already there.”

“Mr Styles, she’s not pushing you in any way to make this happen, correct?”

“Correct. We mutually agreed that this was something we wanted for Margaret.”

“It seems as if Margaret really wants this as well,” The judge chuckled, something I would have never expected out of him. He seemed like such a gruff and emotionless man the last time we had seen him, but now the sight of a piece of paper had him laughing. “She wrote a letter, I’m assuming it was stuck in with the references you gave to Mr Hale, saying that she would really like Olympia to be her mum on paper because the love is already there and gave specific examples about how great of a mother you are, Mrs Styles. It’s quite an impressive letter for a ten year old. However, even without this letter your case holds up incredibly well. Your previous nanny gave an excellent recommendation, the investigator sung your praises, and with every reference my perspective grew to be more and more positive that Margaret would be happy and cared for in a two parent home. With Ms Kennedy having recently been terminated of all rights to Margaret, I see no issues in pushing this case forward. You can sign the papers today.”

“Today?” Olive asked, tears bubbling in her eyes.

“Yes, today,” The judge responded, skeptically looking at my wife, who had her face buried in my shoulder. “Are you okay, Mrs Styles?”

“Perfectly fine,” She squeaked out, pulling some tissues out of her pocket. “Just overwhelmingly happy. Thank you, Your Honor.”

“Of course,” His expression had softened as he pulled the papers out of his briefcase. “If you’ll approach the bench, Mr and Mrs Styles, we can get everything squared away in a few moments.”

Olive and I walked forward together, me with a hand on the small of her back to make sure that she was okay. She signed the document in a number of places, reading through it carefully before initialling or writing out her full name in cursive. When she was done, the judge and I signed at the bottom of the page.

Molly was Olive’s daughter. And it had only taken a hassle free half hour in the city to get it all squared away. We had cleared the day of work, and were back at home two hours before Molly was home from school.

“Where’s Mum?” She asked, dropping her backpack right on the floor of the entryway. I had been waving to Louis, Lily, and most enthusiastically, William. Louis had already known the outcome of the hearing, but was under strict instruction not to say anything.

“Upstairs napping,” I looked down at her, concealing my emotions so she wouldn’t be able to tell what had happened as a result of the hearing today. “I want her to wake up before I tell you anything.”

“Okay,” It was clear that Molly was apprehensive about everything, even though she had no reason to be. Adopted or not, Olive would always be her mother. Mara wasn’t an issue anymore. “Is Mum okay?”

“More than. This past month has just been extremely emotionally draining for her, so she’s been needing to get a bit more sleep than normal. She’ll be back to normal eventually, though. Do you have any homework that you can work on while she’s asleep?”

“Yeah, I have some math,” She sighed, picking up her bag again and bringing it to the dining room table. “Will she be up soon?”

“She’ll probably be up within the next half hour.”

“Or now,” Olive’s voice came from behind us. We both spun to find her smirking as she stretched, obviously pleased that she had been able to successfully sneak up on us. “What’s up?”

“I was just about to start begging Dad to tell me what happened! Are you my Mum or what!”

“Oh, Margaret,” She glanced at me, and I nodded, giving her to go ahead to share our news. “You’re my daughter. Happy Valentine’s Day.”

“It’s more than Valentine’s Day now, Mom,” Molly ran forward to hug Olive tightly around the middle, and Olive squeezed just as hard back. “It’s the best day of my life.”

~

“You seem to be measuring right around nine weeks and four days, Mrs Styles. Your baby is just about the size of an olive,” The midwife commented as she moved the doppler around on Olive’s stomach. We were using a doctor and midwife in Surrey rather than Olive’s regular OBGYN in London. The baby was going to be born here, and this doctor came at a high recommendation from Eleanor. “That’s right in line with the December 13th date you’ve given me, and that means your due date is going to be right around September 21st.”

Olive had already gone through her physical, had blood drawn and taken off to a lab along with a urine sample, and the midwife had gone through the notes Olive’s regular doctor had sent over about the appointment we had had to talk about conception.

“Nine weeks and four days,” Olive breathed, squeezing my hand. Her miscarriage had happened at exactly nine weeks, and we were already past that. “What’s the chance that I’ll miscarry?”

“At this point I’d say relatively small. Your baby is looking good and healthy at the moment. Here,” She flipped a switch at the bottom of the screen where we could see the little blob that was our baby. A rushing heartbeat filled the room, and Olive squeezed my hand again, “heartbeat sounds good and is at a consistent 140 bpm. We’ll do another scan in a couple of weeks to look for any anomalies, and at that point you’ll be out of your first trimester and hopefully out of the woods for miscarrying.”

“Thank you,” Olive was beaming, and I brought her hand to my mouth so I could plant a kiss on her knuckles.

“What kind of symptoms have you been having?”

“I’m exhausted all the time, I had some acne for about a week, and my stomach is upset but I’ve only actually gotten sick a handful of times.”

“Sounds about right. Did you already go through your hungry phase?”

“Yeah, I did,” Olive nodded. “That’s going to come back when the sickness passes, isn’t it?”

“It will,” The woman confirmed before continuing on. “Let me just take some pictures, and then we’ll talk about what comes next.”

“Okay,” Olive watched as her midwife printed a few pictures of the ultrasound and then wiped the gel off of her belly.

“I think another scan in your thirteenth or fourteenth week would be ideal, so schedule an appointment about a month out with the receptionist out front. Always call me and let me know if you have any concerns or anything starts going wrong.”

“Thank you,” Olive sat up, pulling her shirt back down. “See you in a few weeks.”

“Yep! See you two soon,” The midwife smiled, watching as we left the room. Olive booked our next appointment quickly, and then we hurried off to the car. She huddled into my zip up hoodie; upon leaving the house she had forgotten her own jumper, so she stole mine.

“How are we going to balance our careers when the baby comes?” I asked when we were back in the car headed home.

“Well. I’m nearly done with my album, but with a new album release comes touring. I don’t think I want to do that with a new baby, or go away and leave you and Molly with a baby who’s only a couple months old. I think I want to put off release until after they’re born.”

“I’ll support you on that, but you know since I own it, I can take more of a back burner job at the studio when the baby is little if you did want to release music and tour soon. You’re still at the height of your performing career, and I’m really focused on writing and producing songs. I can do that from home, or close to it,” I paused while we were at a stop sign, and Olive was nodding along. “What I’m saying is, I’d be happy to be the stay at home dad while you continue conquering the world.”

“You’re so good to me,” Olive smiled, placing her hand on top of mine on the gearshift. “I’ve definitely decided not to release an album until the baby is out of me and I’m off maternity leave. I think I’ll still want to work with music until the time comes where I need to go on maternity leave though? Could I help at the studio?”

“Of course. We’ve always written really well together in the past, and you might end up writing some stuff for yourself while you’re at it. It’ll be different to have you as an actual partner rather than mixing your album for you, but it’ll be good.”

“Yeah, I think so too.”

“How soon after the baby is born are you thinking about releasing your album?” Was my next question. Our careers were tricky things to work around, but I knew both of us could live comfortably no matter if Olive wanted to be a stay at home mum, or if she wanted me to take on the bigger child care role.

“I guess we’ll have to see how things go? Maybe around six months? How long are maternity leaves generally in the UK? I know it’s 12 weeks unpaid in the US.”

“That’s absolutely ridiculous,” I scoffed. Most of the US laws never failed to baffle me. “Here you can take up to a year, but generally it’s six months. We can afford to play things by ear, so don’t push yourself.”

“Do you still want five?” She asked, brown eyes boring into the side of my head.

“Five kids?” I asked, glancing at my wife. She nodded, and I focused back on the road. “I’m fine with however many you want.”

“I think five is a good number, but you know I’m 32 right?”

“Yeah.”

“After this one, we’ll still have three to go. Do you think we’ll make it in time?”

“If five is what we both want, then I hope so,” I chuckled, pulling onto our street. “I’m sure we can. Do you want this baby to be a boy or girl?"

"Well, I don't really know how to deal with girls. There aren't very many in my family. I think it would be less stressful to have a boy first."

"Hmmm,” I parked the car, contemplating what Olive had said. “I think we should prepare for the very real possibility that this baby, and most of our future ones, will be girls. I'm the deciding factor in this one and my family is very good at making girls."

"I guess it's a good thing you've raised a girl then," She gave me a wide, cheeky smile before sliding out of the car.

"Hey! you helped!"

"Just from when she was four.”

"Still very important,” She just shrugged, pressing the button to make the garage door open.

“I think we should tell Molly,” Olive blurted when we had gotten into the kitchen. We had been silent as I drove the car up the driveway and into the garage. “She’ll be home any minute and I want to put the sonogram picture on the fridge and I think she should know. She’ll be so excited.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah, I think she’s old enough to understand miscarriage now if it happens again, and more importantly it’ll make you happy,” I pulled my wife into a hug and kissed the top of her head. “I’d do anything to make you happy.”

“God, I lo-”

“I’m home!” Molly yelled, slamming the front door and walking into the kitchen. “What are you hugging about?”

“Well, we have some news, Molly,” I smiled, borderline laughing at her confused expression.

“You’re not shipping me off to boarding school are you?” She groaned. “Uncle Louis said that he wanted to send Lily off and if I wasn’t careful that you would send me off with her!”

“Uncle Louis was joking,” I really laughed then, and she frowned at me.

“What is it you have to tell me then?”

“You’re gonna be a big sister,” The words burst out of Olive’s mouth as she broke free of my hold around her waist, holding out one of the sonogram pictures to our daughter. I watched as Molly’s grumpy expression morphed into one of shock and happiness.

“Mum! You’re pregnant?” She exclaimed, immediately hurrying around the kitchen to grab the picture. “This is the baby? When is she coming?”

“We don’t know if it’s a girl or boy yet, Mols,” Olive laughed. “I’m nine weeks and four days pregnant, so the baby is due September 21st.”

“A mum and a sibling in the same week! I’m the luckiest girl alive!” Molly wrapped her arms around Olive’s waist, and I swear nothing had felt more complete than my family in that moment.