#I’ll admit it’s mostly an American thing

[pkmn-smashorpass]

Wait you performed on a show

Yeah I usually do 2 shows a month but October is our busy season so we did 7.

I’m in a local shadow cast for the Rocky Horror Picture Show which is a little different than a traditional stage play. We play the movie at the same time as we perform.

It’s a lot of fun!! I actually have another show tonight so wish me luck

[its-time-to-write]

hi i love your work.

can i get touch deprived reader with jamie or roy

you totally can! It just comes at the low, low cost of way more words than you bargained for. Fair warning, Jamie isn’t even introduced for a good solid chunk of the first half. I also have been touch deprived so this is based on personal experience lol.

I feel like I let this get away from me in the same way the Vienna fic got away from me😂

sinking into your worn out mattress

It’s the same routine every day.

Wake up, get dressed, go to work, come home, make dinner, fall asleep, repeat.

It’s not a bad thing, necessarily. You’re nothing if not efficient, maximizing your time to the best of your abilities. It’s not the most glamorous thing in the world, but you enjoy it. You’re lucky enough to be working on your supervision hours under a renowned psychologist, Dr. Fieldstone in London, and it’s paid. Over half the people in your cohort are struggling through unpaid internships and juggling a second job just so they can make ends meet. You’re all propelled forward by the promise of better pay as soon as it’s all over, dreaming of the days you can own your own practice.

You’re not even sure how you landed this internship, as Dr. Fieldstone rarely ever takes on interns. (She’d tell you later it’s because she saw the same potential her supervisor saw in her.) But you have it, and you’re now assisting her in her on-location therapy to various sports teams. You’d been at a rugby club for a few months, but now it’s time to move on. Dr. Fieldstone was asked to come back to a previous club and although she’d never admit it, you know it was her favorite group to work with. It’s the only club who’s picture is on her desk. It makes you smile every time you see her surrounded by a rowdy-looking group of footballers and two very American coaches. She had said that the one with the mustache was no longer at the club, but the bearded one still was along with the angry looking man to the side and the short, grey-haired man.

You’ve seen the photo so many times that you have everyone’s faces memorized. You’re secretly excited to meet the team that made Dr. Sharon (in her colleagues’ words,) loosen up.

You weren’t friends, with Dr. Sharon, never once dropping the “doctor,” that preceded her name, but she would occasionally swing by your standard housing with a bottle of wine after a particularly difficult day. 

“This job can be emotionally draining,” she’d say. “I always wished I had someone there for me at the beginning.”

She rarely smiled or showed outward affection, but you understood that this was her way of saying she cared. 

But now you’re packing up your flat into your car, and headed to your new quarters in Richmond, London.

—

It’s apparent that Dr. Sharon has a strong connection with the players. There are a small few who allow you to run each session, most preferring to stick with who they know. Your days are mostly filled with analyses and treatment plans, with about two real session a week, one with Rojas, D and Maas, J. You don’t even sit in with Dr. Sharon much anymore, as the thought of an observer makes some of the players uncomfortable.  

It’s stressing you out.

How are you supposed to fulfill your hours when you can’t even get consistent sessions?

Dr. Sharon, in her limited kindness, refers you to a friend of hers in town. 

“She runs a small practice and works mostly with women. You’ll be able to keep your housing and fulfill your hours. If you need anything, you know where to find me.”

You look at her. “Right,” you reply, “because you’re going to have so much time to help me out between all the things you’ve got going on.”

She rolls her eyes good-naturedly. “Listen. Since you’re not my intern, I can become your therapist. I’ll even give you a discounted rate since you’re still interning. We’ll set up weekly sessions. You’ll be fine.”

You’re still not sure. Dr. Sharon can see the apprehension in your face. “Alright,” she says. “If you schedule our sessions in the evening and cook dinner, I’ll do it for free. It’ll be informal, one therapist to another.”

That’s big. She rarely does anything for free. In a moment of boldness, you say that to her face.

She cracks the tiniest smile. “It’s possible that I’ve grown fond of you. And even more possible that I’m addicted to your cooking.”

Huh. You suppose miracles do still happen.

—

Sharon is over for dinner for the third time in a week, and you’re suspicious that she might actually enjoy spending time with you. You’re laughing about some stupid story that happened during a natural environment observation (it involved a slip n slide, an obscene amount of shaving cream, and footballs being thrown at players heads) when out of nowhere you feel tears slipping down your face.

“Oh my gosh” you say while maybe laughing, maybe crying, “I think I’m broken.”

Sharon (she insisted you drop the “doctor,”) asks, “Are you alright?” and you shrug while you begin full-on sobbing.

“I don’t know what’s happening,” you say between gasps. “What the actual heck.”

At that, Sharon grins. You’re retaining some element of your humor, despite actually crying.

“Just go on and fucking swear already,” she says. “I think we’re past a truly professional relationship.” 

You shake your head. “No!” you say. “No, my mum wouldn’t like it.” Fresh tears start to fall at the mention of your mum. Sharon is actually concerned now.

“I’m not sure you’re alright,” she says, and you shoot her a no duh look. “Let’s discuss what might be the root of your issue. Have you been feeling differently lately?”

You’re wiping your eyes and trying so hard to get it together. You’re not even sure what your problem is. You were pretty sure you were doing fine, but you think back to your week. It had been pretty standard, nothing out of the ordinary. You shake your head.

“There is nothing too small to mention. Anything out of your usual routine? Physical discomfort, emotionally-draining sessions?” Sharon asks.

“No,” you reply, tears almost under control. “Wait. Yes.”

Sharon looks at you expectantly. “God, this is going to sound dumb.”

She reaches out to pat your hand. “There’s no such thing as too dumb,” she says in her therapist voice. 

The gesture is so much like something a sister would do. 

“Right,” you say. “Ok. My, um, the insides of my elbows like, hurt? They just feel weird, I don’t know. It started two weeks ago I think and usually I can just pinch them and it’s fine, but that’s the only thing I can think of, I guess.”

Sharon has gone full therapist, and is giving you an analytical look. “Hm,” she says. “Tell me more.”

You shrug. “There’s not much to tell. It’s not like painful, it just feels weird. I hug my pillow when I sleep and that also helps. Um, I push up my sleeves so they go around my elbows and the pressure helps.”

She asks, “When was the last time you saw a friend?” and you can’t think why this is relevant. But you also can’t remember.

“Probably since before I moved,” you say.

“And when was the last time you saw your family?”

You begin to see where she’s going.

“God,” you groan. “I’m an idiot.”

Sharon laughs. “Do you see why it’s so difficult for therapists to self-diagnose? We’re so busy trying to save the world that we forget to save ourselves.”

“But it’s so stupid,” you say. “It’s like, one of the most basic forms of self-care.”

Sharon shrugs. “Touch-starvation is a real thing. It manifests itself in different ways and apparently yours manifests itself in your elbows.”

It’s so ridiculous that you laugh. She does too, and reaches out to squeeze your arm. “I’ll be more mindful of it,” she says. “In the meantime, you need to find yourself some friends. Some people your own age. I’m prescribing you at least two nights out a week.”

You knit your eyebrows together. “I don’t even know where I would go. Or how to meet people. Or what to say!”

“That’s the problem with us therapists,” Sharon says. “We’re really best in a clinical setting. Shouldn’t be let out of the house, really. How about this; next time Richmond has some group event, you come. They’re a rowdy bunch, around your age, too. It’s an incredibly healthy environment, and you’ll be easily accepted. It will be a nice gateway to having a social life. There’s a match this weekend and they’re almost guaranteed a win, so keep your calendar open.”

You open your mouth to protest but Sharon holds up a hand. “I’m prescribing this as your mentor, not as your friend. It will be a healthy change of pace, I promise.”

—

Seeing AFC Richmond in person and off the pitch is like an out-of-body experience. 

You’re putting names to familiar faces, and getting a crash course on their personalities. 

You know Dani and Jan Maas from your short stint as their counselor, and they’ve taken it upon themselves to introduce you to everyone else. Dani is holding your elbow to guide you around to all sorts of people, and you can physically feel the serotonin production in your brain. 

You meet Higgins and his wife, the hosts of this barbecue as well as some of their children. It’s hard to miss them because they keep coming up to shoot Dani and Jan with nerf guns. They’re weirdly prepared, pulling out their own from thin air. 

“Don’t worry,” Jan says, “We’ll defend you.”

It’s very much like a large family gathering. You meet Richard, who kisses your hand and comments on your beauty. Zoreaux, who smiles and asks if you want anything to drink. Bumbercatch, who asks if you can read minds. And finally, Roy and Keeley who are standing in the kitchen and definitely were not kissing right before you walked in.

“This is one of our coaches,” Dani beams. “He and Keeley are very much in love, but they will not admit to  each other, least of all themselves.”

Roy says, “Oi!” while Keeley blushes. Jan shrugs.

“It’s true,” he says. “There is no point in dancing around it.”

“Fuck off!” says Roy, and Jan and Dani are saved from certain death by head-butt as Keeley steps between them and says, “It’s nice to meet you! We’re so glad you could come,” and wraps you in a tight hug.

She’s small, but she’s strong. You have trouble breathing for a moment in the best possible way.

“Heard you work for Dr. Sharon,” she says. “That’s got to be fucking difficult.”

You laugh. “Yeah, but not in the way you’d think,” you say. “I’d already sold my soul to my education long before I met her. She’s actually trying to help me get it back.”

Keeley grins. “Is that why you’re here then? To reinstate your soul?”

You’re cut off from replying by the appearance of someone new. This one is in Sharon’s picture too, standing in the middle slightly to the left and smiling with the tip of his tongue sticking out. You always thought he seemed like one who looked so happy and carefree because he actively chose to be that way.

“Who’s reinstatin’ their soul?” he asks, squeezing in between Dani and Keeley.

“This one here,” Keeley replies. “You met her yet? She’s Dr. Fieldstone’s protégé.”

“Oh,” you say. “No. Not really. I was just doing my internship with her, but I had to move because…” you hesitate.

“Because no one wanted to talk to her except me and Jan,” Dani helpfully fills in. 

Jan adds, “They were all intimidated by the fact that she is close to their age and so beautiful, as well stuck in their ways of having Dr. Sharon. Only Dani and I were willing to give her a chance, and she actually helped me through some important life decisions.”

You had? It hadn’t seemed that way at the time. You feel less crappy about your time at Nelson Road, though. It wasn’t like they didn’t like you, they just preferred to stick with what they know. That, you can understand.

“Mint,” Jamie says. “So you ain’t the team’s shrink anymore?”

Roy rolls his eyes. “Fucking observant, you are. She hasn’t been around in fucking ages.”

Jamie shrugs. “I was just checking!” he says defensively.

You smile. “It’s alright,” you say. “I’m sure you’re busy, and there’s always a lot of people coming and going.”

That seems to surprise Jamie. Almost as if he isn’t used to people defending him. You file his reaction away in your brain, adding it to your collection of knowledge about the football team that made Sharon zip across England for.

—

It’s been two and a half hours, and you’ve have more food and laughter than you’ve had in ages. Dani and Jan Maas had left your circle in the kitchen a while ago, fulfilling their promise to chase around the youngest Higgins boys as well as Roy’s niece Phoebe, and another girl who’s name you didn’t catch. Sam has joined your group now, and he and Jamie are funny together in a way that reminds you of your brothers. They’re constantly ragging on each other, teasing Roy, and throwing things.

Jamie, it seems, is the comedian of the group. You can tell he’s showing off, presumably because there’s a new face. When it’s time to eat, he says, “Stick with me, love, that way you don’t get stuck next to some uncultured animal,” even though Sharon is there and you’d be fine to sit with any of the boys.

But, he’s already grabbed your hand and is pulling you to a spot near Roy and Keeley as Sharon looks on with an amused expression. You send her a single pleading glance (although you’re not sure what you’re pleading for) and she just gives you a shooing motion. She’s happy to sit with Rebecca and her boyfriend. And someone who’s name you’re pretty sure is Coach Beard. 

Ever the gentleman, Jamie pulls out your chair for you before settling into his own. There are tables all throughout the house and a few in the front yard, and you’re glad he picked one outside. It’s a little cloudy, but nice weather.

And god, there are people. People who are talking to you, hugging you, tapping you on the arm and holding your hand, even if it is just to make sure you don’t get separated in the stampede to find seating. Your arms aren’t even a little sore, and you can feel Sharon’s observing eyes on you. You know for a fact she’s going to have a lot to say next time you have dinner, but for now all you can think about is the way Jamie’s arm is pressed against yours, as he leans in to explain a football term that Roy just used to threaten Jamie with.

—

You’re not sure how long this party is supposed to last, but it’s three hours later and there is no sign of stopping. The sun is just barely starting to dip, and time has lost all meaning. You don’t know if the meal you ate was supposed to be lunch or dinner but it doesn’t matter because you’re so full that you can barely make room for the pile of desserts that Mrs. Higgins has pulled out. 

You’ve moved inside now, since Jamie pulled you through the dessert line saying, “You have to come with me, so I can put my dessert on your plate. That way grandad can’t have a fit.” You understand that “grandad” is Roy.

You’re smart enough to notice that Jamie’s hand is in yours at every opportunity he can find, and that he’s still holding it even though you’ve finished your dessert and are flopped on a couch inside. He’s absentmindedly rubbing circles with his thumb as you chatter on about nothing. 

“Oi,” he says, when you’ve lapsed into silence, “is this alright?”

You’re not sure what he means until he holds up your still-intertwined hands.

“Keeley says I’m more touchy than most. Don’t want to fuckin’ weird you out or some shit.”

You smile. “You’re fine. It’s actually really nice.” You decide to leave it at that. No point in explaining touch-deprivation to the cute footballer you just met. Talk about oversharing.

Jamie smiles back, a real one that lights up his whole face.

“Mint,” he says.

—

“Jamie’s romantically interested in you,” says Sharon’s voice through the phone.

“How do you know that?” you ask. It’s the morning after the Higgins party and you only have a 2pm session. Sharon texted you to call her as soon as you woke up, so you do and she drops a bombshell on the first ring. You doubt Jamie would have told her this himself, as Dr. Fieldstone isn’t one to break a confidence.

“Basic body language,” she replies. “Repeated physical contact, the way his body was angled toward yours all day, the fact that he went out of his way to make you smile. All classic markers of romantic attraction. Any trained therapist should be able to pick up on it.”

What she means is, you’re a trained therapist. You should be picking up on it.

“There’s no way,” you say, but it comes out more doubtful than you’d hoped. 

“Right,” says Sharon, “there’s no way. In the same way that there’s no way I’m only mentoring you because I see myself in you.”

“Oh,” you reply weakly, because that’s a lot to unpack. 

“Oh,” she mimics. “Right. Well. I’ve got to go. Make sure you remember the mental exercises I gave you. Therapists need to take care of their minds too.”

You say thanks and hang up. 

Oh.

—

You’re home again from your session, and you are tired. It was mentally exhausting and all you can think about are the pair of sweatpants in the drawer by your bed and the box of pizza that should be at your flat in fifteen-to-twenty minutes. That was about thirteen minutes ago, and you’ve just been puttering about since placing the call and changing out of work clothes. 

There’s a knock on the door and you say a quiet yes, before hurrying to answer. You open the door to two people on your doorstep instead of one.

“This your pizza?” the delivery boy asks. You nod, thank him, and hand him the money. He’s gone so you acknowledge the other person in front of you.

“How’d you know where I live?”

Jamie shrugs. “Asked Dr. Fieldstone. She isn’t as scary as she looks.”

“And why are you here?”

You place the pizza down on the small table in your entryway. It hasn’t escaped your notice that Jamie is practically standing in your doorframe now, inches away from you.

He wraps his hands in the front of his shirt. “Isaac was telling me about body science,” he says. “Been teaching me how to read people and shit based on how they move.”

You nod. Body language. Yeah, you know a thing or two about that.

“Anyway, he said you thought I was proper fit. Which is good, because I think you’re proper fit. But, just in case he were wrong, I thought I’d come over and give you a chance to tell me.”

His left hand is on the doorframe now, and you can see the top of his tattoo peeking out from under his bright orange hoodie. There is exactly one inch between you two as he slants his body toward yours.

“You can tell me to bugger off, if you want,” he murmurs. “Won’t hurt my feelings.”

You don’t say anything, just stand on your toes the tiniest bit so he has better access to your mouth. 

You can feel his breath when he pulls away.

“Oh,” he says, “I didn’t come here for sex. Me mum raised a gentleman. I’d buy you a coupla dinners first.”

“Shut up and kiss me already, Tartt,” you say, and he’s grinning, free hand cupping the back of your head.

—

You think that’s probably the fastest you’ve ever gotten into a relationship.

“Labels are important, babe,” Jamie had said that night. “How else will you know if food is poisonous?”

You’re pretty sure he’s talking about checking for allergens, but you don’t correct him. You’re on your couch watching a movie with his arm around your shoulders. He’s playing with strands of your hair and it’s strange that you’re this comfortable with a boy you just met yesterday.

Because he is a boy. You’re the same age, but you feel impossibly, inadequately young. He plays it off as youthful exuberance, and you’re sure it’s an advantage on the pitch. Your age doesn’t feel like an advantage to you, but you can’t change it so you might as well just deal with what you’ve got.

You can be professional in the morning, but right now you’ve got a cute, fit boy who thinks you’re cute and fit and so far has not given off red flags. You’re extra alert ever since your call with Sharon, trying to pick up on every subtlety, but you stop trying as soon as Jamie rolls up a piece of pizza like a burrito and tries to fit it all in his mouth. You know that Sharon would have been the first to tell you if this was a bad idea, and the fact that she even told you Jamie was interested is basically like her giving her blessing.

Jamie leaves too soon, but he does so with your number in his phone and the promise of “a proper date,” as soon as you both can manage.

—

“A proper date,” turned into two proper dates, then three, then four, then seeing each other steadily throughout the weeks, then your first sleepover after the third week. Your skin was all tingly when Jamie invited you over to his for dinner, telling you he was going to cook for you. You knew exactly what was going to happen that night and made sure you were prepared. 

You dressed nice, in clothes that gave him easy access to your skin underneath. 

“Am I rushing this?” you had asked Sharon the day before. “I’m asking you as my mentor. Am I being an idiot?”

Sharon had taken a moment to consider before answering. “You’re smart for your age. And wise beyond your years. I don’t think you’re being an idiot. We can’t let our work consume us, no matter how important it is. You’re a brilliant therapist. You’re always giving yourself away to those around you. You deserve something for yourself, and you know how to pick a good one.”

You hugged her for those words. She seemed startled, but accepted it. You didn’t think life could get much better. 

You were wrong. You discovered life could be so much better the moment Jamie’s hand slid under your skirt and you were kicking off your shoes on the way up the stairs. 

“Stay,” he whispered when you were done. “It’s fuckin’ late anyway. You can use my shower and wear one of my shirts. I have an extra toothbrush. I fucking hate sleeping alone.”

So you’re in one of his t-shirts and your underwear, arms wrapped around Jamie’s waist. 

You think what am I doing? but Jamie presses a soft, sleepy kiss to your temple and you think maybe you’re doing something right.

—

It’s been a hell of a week. You’re swamped, Jamie’s always at training, and neither of you have been able to make the time to see the other in days. Your inner arms are sore again, and your dinners with Sharon have been short and extremely clinical in a way you desperately need. However, once-a-week therapy is not enough to get rid of the feeling you have, and you wake up throughout the night holding your pillow as if it were Jamie. 

You’ve gotten used to having his hand in yours, your head on his shoulder, knees touching and arms wrapped tight around your body. Having it taken away is worse than before, because at least then you didn’t really know what you were missing. Now, you feel as if you’re going to die unless someone does something, even if it’s just a high-five. 

You’re sitting at your kitchen table, one knee pulled up to your chest as you review case notes. Your food has gone cold because all you can do is cry. You’re so tired and so lonely and it shouldn’t be this way, but it is and you’re just over it. There’s a knock at the door so you wipe your eyes and answer it, hoping you look normal.

It’s Jamie.

The moment you register who it is, you’re launching yourself into his arms, wrapping around him like a spider monkey. He laughs. “Hello to you too,” he says, spinning you around. He stops when he feels you shaking in his arms. 

“Oi,” he says, frowning a little, “you alright, love?”

He can feel tears on his neck.

“Babe,” he says, “did something happen at work?”

You shake your head, face still buried into the crook of his neck. “I just missed you,” you croak, voice muffled.

Jamie chuckles at that. You’re lucky he’s strong, because he’s able to carry you to the couch like it’s nothing, kicking the door shut behind him without losing his balance. He settles with you in his arms, rubbing a pattern on your back. 

“It’s alright, love, I’m here,” he says, and you’ve never been more grateful for the fact that he calls you love more than your actual name. It’s like he’s always reminding you how he feels about you.

You just hold him tighter, letting the terrible feeling you had all week fade away. When it’s mostly gone, you pull away so you can look him in the face.

“I- I have this thing,” you say. Jamie looks concerned.

“Are you dyin’?” he asks.

“No!” you reply. “No, I’m not dying. I have- I’m touch-deprived. I let it get really bad sometimes and then I can physically feel it. You can look it up, it’s a real thing.” You don’t know why you feel the need to defend yourself. Jamie’s just looking at you, all quiet seriousness.

“That what it’s called?” he asks. “I know what you mean. Fucking had it two years ago. Used to egg Roy on just so he’d push me around and the lads’d have to hold me back. Wasn’t near me mum anymore, so I didn’t have anyone to hug me or anything. Sounds dumb, but… I just needed someone to touch me. Like if they didn’t, it meant I didn’t exist. Fucking mental.”

“Mental,” you agree.

Jamie smiles. “You’re the fucking best, you know that?” he asks. “I’m never bored when I’m with you. Came over to see if you wanted to watch a movie or play video games.” 

He’s stroking your cheek with one hand, other still wrapped around your back.

You smile back. “I really, really love you Jamie Tartt. I’ll play video games, I just don’t want to play FIFA.”

Jamie’s smile drops. “Shit,” he says, and you think it’s because you don’t want to play his favorite video game. “You weren’t supposed to say it first, I was. I was gonna tell you tonight anyway.”

“It’s not a big deal, babe,” you say.

“No.” He shakes his head. “It’s a big fuckin’ deal. Now I’ve got to make it up to you.”

“No you don’t,” you say.

“Yes I do,” he replies. “I’m gonna tell you every fucking day how much I love you. I’ll drive home early from away games just to hug you. I want you to always feel like you have the love you deserve.”

You’re at a loss for words.

“Cat got your tongue, don’t it?” Jamie asks cheekily. “Not a problem, babe. I know how to get it back.”

[honest-moth-of-silver-grove]

Hey, I'd love a matchup for Castlevania, if you're up for it (was not the person who wrote you those ask anons btw, although I appreciate them clearing things up).

I’m a heterosexual cis woman, although I’m starting to suspect I’m on the asexual spectrum. So, I'd prefer a male matchup. Also not super sure I'd be down with polygamy.

I'm a premed student (no time for irl dating unfortunately 😭). I also work as a volunteer EMS on weekends. Outside of my school and work my hobbies are singing (musical theatre and classical mostly), theatre (backstage work as well as performing), skiing (the only sport I’m any good at) and TTRPGs (was this close to getting my group to play a Castlevania campaign 😔).

I’m also a big nerd about history, American comics, and folklore. I’ll rant for hours about my special interests if nobody stops me. I’d describe myself as ambiverted. I'm socially awkward, but also very loud and expressive. I’m a bit oblivious, I’ll admit lol, but I do my best. My MBTI is ESTJ, and while I doubt MBTI's accuracy, I agree I’m very Type A. When it comes to the things I’m good at, I’m a major perfectionist, but I’m proud of how hard I work. I think my greatest weakness is probably thoughtlessness, but my greatest strength is humility.  My giving love language is acts of service, and my receiving love language is quality time. I'm verbally affectionate towards friends but I freeze like a deer in headlights if somebody flirts with me. Also: I know appearance isn’t super important, but I think it’s important to know I’m only around 5’0 tall. As my friends say, "headpat size."

A/N: Okay for you my PreMed Student Anon (that’s amazing, congratulations by the way!)I have two potential matches in mind. You said you’re heterosexual and would prefer male results, so I chose two from that gender because I honestly couldn’t decide which would please you best. For you, I’m thinking either Dracula or Alucard would be your perfect romantic matchups! (It really does just come down to which man you’d like better: father or son, lol.) 

Dracula (Vlad Tepes), as terrifying as he may be when he decides to enact justice on the human population, is a very reserved and intellectual man. He’s introverted and devoted much of his life to learning about anything and everything from medicine to history to poetry. 

In this instance let’s pretend he’s either never met Lisa or he did meet and fall in love with Lisa but she either lived a full life and died of natural causes, or Dracula was able to overcome the anger and blame he held for humanity following her murder.

Dracula is a patient man. Being immortal means he understands that you must dedicate much of your time to your studies and your volunteer work. So long as the few moments you do get to spend with him are uninterrupted and meaningful, I believe he’d be understanding, and even supportive of your academic endeavors. He was more than happy to aid Lisa in her quest to learn more about biology, so I have no doubt he’d do similarly for you. Any questions you have, he’d gladly answer them. Any resource he has in his castle, any book or scroll, any record of any kind is yours to inspect. He has no doubts that you’re going to make a very accomplished professional one day, and he has every intention of doing whatever it takes to help you get there.

Along with that patience comes an understanding that sex is not the end all be all in life. Sure, it has its place for either pleasure or reproduction but it doesn't need to dominate relationships. If sex is something you're hesitant about, or against having, it doesn't make much difference to him. Dracula would be fine without sleeping with you, so long as he can have you in other ways. Holding you close, holding your hand, sitting next to you in front of a warm fire- those things are what make him feel close to your heart. 

Dracula also enjoys how animated you get when you go on rants about your special interests. He’s very versed in history and folklore as well, although not American comics, so he would listen intently as you teach him all you know. 

As an ESTJ, you would be very grounding for him (an INTJ), while still having a great deal in common. The both of you value an intellectual connection in a relationship while your more empathetic, extroverted side would help push him to see the truth of humanity where he may previously have only seen things in shades of black and white. You both strive for the best, and that suits you just fine with your perfectionism, but do be warned, there may be times you don’t see eye to eye. What you hold as most important in an issue or debate may be different than what he holds. Remember to be patient. INTJs are prone to stubbornness, but being a Type A personality, I do not doubt that you’ll be able to handle any contrary moods of his just fine. 

Your thoughtlessness can also be a source of discourse within the relationship, as Dracula is bound to worry about you. You’re human, you're fragile and under so much pressure. He cares deeply for you and does not want to see you hurt. The one advantage you do have, however, is your humility. It keeps you from being both arrogant and thoughtless which is a much more dangerous combination. So long as you are aware enough of your limits, and keep your wits about you the best you can, Dracula promises to trust you enough to let you come and go as you need to, so long as you’re willing to admit when you need help. But with your best trait being your humility, that shouldn't be a problem. 

Dracula is so touched by your acts of service. Being such an ancient and scary vampire no one ever thought to make him tea or ask if he needed help with anything. He feels so fortunate to have a partner who does not see him solely as ‘Dracula’, Lord of Vampires, but as Vlad Tepes, a man at heart. 

Not to mention your size difference is too adorable for words. He’s so tall and you’re so tiny… He always kneels whenever you ask for a kiss, he’ll never ask you to step on a stool or climb a ladder to reach him. He’s more than happy to come to you. He loves you. You are his new light, his new reason to believe in humanity. 

Alucard (Adrian Tepes) could also be a good match for you! He’s an ambivert like you, although he may not admit it. He’s the son of a scholar and a doctor, so he’s very understanding when it comes to your education and career. And his empathetic nature makes him extremely compatible with your considerate one. 

As Alucard is a dhampir and immortal, this matchup could work in either medieval times or modern times. For the sake of this matchup, imagine whatever you might prefer. 

Alucard hasn’t always had the best experience when it comes to sex. Granted, you can’t judge every potential future experience based on one horrible one, but he’s not the kind of guy who jumps into bed easily. He has reservations and feels very insecure about the whole act. Should he ever engage in it, he’d need a partner who’s very understanding, or just as nervous as he is about the whole thing. In hindsight, I don’t think Alucard would mind not having all that much sex: for him, your continued company means more than any sexual endeavor could. 

Alucard is very impressed with your decision to go into pre med. He knows how much work that means you’re going to be undertaking, and he’ll do whatever he can to support you, either in your studies or in your personal life. He’s very well-read and rather educated on biology as his mother was a physician, so feel free to ask him any questions or have him quiz you before exams. He’s also a bit of an obsessive lover. When he decides he likes someone, he makes a point to memorize that person. (Recall the Trevor and Sypha dolls?) He wants to know what you think and why you think it. That way, he can anticipate your thoughts or needs. 

And he does quite enjoy it when you sing to him, especially if you sing him to sleep. Sleep hasn't always come easy to him, but with your presence and your lovely voice, it’s as if an angel is singing him a lullaby. I also believe Alucard would absolutely thrive playing TTRPG: he’s sarcastic, smart and strategic. I really think he’d dominate any campaign he set his mind to. Plus, it’d be great socialization for him besides you. 

As an ESTJ you’re fairly compatible with Alucard’s INFJ. You’re just extroverted enough to pull him out of his idealistic daydreams, but grounded and predictable enough not to shake his confidence or trust in you/your relationship. The only possible issue is that INFJs can sometimes get caught up in the fantastical destiny of it all: it’s about people and purpose. Whereas ESTJs tend to be a bit more practical- you value reality and stability a bit more than potential and daydreams. But I don’t envision this to be a huge problem, so long as you push communication with Alucard. He internalizes a lot. He’ll need to be reminded to share his inner feelings. So long as you do that, I don’t see any major discourse between you two. 

Alucard may be a little disappointed in your moments of thoughtlessness, but at the same time, he finds them endearing. You try so hard: you’re a perfectionist like he is, and even though you’re only human, you strive for the same greatness. It’s rather admirable. He likes that about you. 

Alucard would also be very touched by your acts of service, mainly because he often finds himself doing the service for others. It’s nice to be taken care of for a change. And he is very happy to spend quality time with you. He’d follow you everywhere if you let him. So long as he’s near you, he feels complete. He’s always leaning down to give you soft forehead kisses whenever you’re around. You’re so precious to him. 

[annalu86]

Another double date.

“You love me right?”

Lucy walked up to Tim as he stood at the fridge door, he was wondering what to make them for dinner but mostly looking for an excuse to order something in. She came to stand behind him, slipping her arms around his waist and pulling herself flush up against him.

“What did you do?”Tim was immediately suspicious.

“I asked you a question first!”Lucy giggled, a little nervously

“Luuuccyyy” he said, turn around in her arms and taking a step back. He looked down at her, making the most of his considerable height “it depends on what you’ve done” he was half smiling, lucy had a way of getting him into situations he’d preferred to have avoided.

“Isn’t true love supposed to be unconditional?!” She ran her fingers up his arm and gazed up at him through her eyelashes. But Tim was clearly not going to be easily swayed.

“It definitely depends.” He chuckled, moving past her to look half heartedly in a cupboard “Did you use the last of the coffee or did you sign me up for another ‘make a dream’ kid? Because the last time you started a conversation this way I spent my day hunting for our very own mini Houdini”

“Is that really your example of the worst thing I could do? You’re worried I’ve signed you up to babysit again?” Lucy playfully punched him on the arm, she followed Tim through her small kitchen as he made his way to the pile of take out menus having clearly given up on the idea of cooking.

“We lost him. A lot.” Tim sat down on the sofa and looked up at Lucy from behind a menu. He smiled at the memory, despite himself. Getting to spend days like that with Lucy, at the precinct or on patrol, we’re now few and far between. She sat down, crossed legged, next to him, her whole body turned towards him.

“So you admit it wasn’t just my fault we lost him!” She cried triumphantly jabbing him on the chest with her finger

“Ow!” He said rubbing the spot she had poked “Lucy, stop trying to distract me.” He put the menus down, finally a serious look on his face “What have you done?”

Lucy took a deep breath.

“I said we’d go on a double date.”

“Right.” It was clear he didn’t think this sounded so terrible, he tolerated Wesley and could just spend most of his time talking to Angela “With?”

She looked sheepish

“… John and Bailey”

“Ok.” Tim’s disappointment was written all over his face, but this is what he had taken on when he had chosen a partner in someone like Lucy “not my first choice but it’s just one evening”

“Great” Lucy smiled but it was an uneasy smile, there was definitely more. Tim could read her like a book.

“Lucy” he probed “what else?” She didn’t say anything, or look at him “Lucy?”

“The only time we were all free was the ___.” She said in a rush

The cogs in his brain started ticking, that date sounded familiar

“Wait that’s…”

“ the Rams are playing the ___ in the ___” she looked at him apologetically “I know! I’m so, so sorry!” Lucy grasped his bicep “So you get to decide, we can go to their house or we can all go to yours. That way you can still watch, at least, and I’ll do all the shopping and all the cooking. And did I mention I’m sorry and that I love you!” She stopped suddenly, waiting for him to respond. Tim’s gaze was steady, he was enjoy her being flustered for a change.

“Just know that you are going to owe me” Tim finally said with a smouldering look, once again Lucy playfully punched his shoulder. Instantly at ease. “I mean it” he quirked an eyebrow.

A wide smile spread across Lucy’s face

“I can live with that” she leant in to kiss him, all thoughts of dinner slipping from Tim’s mind.

—————————————————————————

If it’s not already blatantly clear, I have no knowledge of American sports, sports teams or competitions and no desire to learn. Please fill in the blanks however you want!

[lestatslestits]

I’m late for Day 5 of TOTA Takeover, but I couldn’t let the week end without writing a little something from Campbell’s perspective.

Personally, I really struggle to believe that Campbell’s “fake” manic episode didn’t have some truth behind it, which is the basis for this ficlet.

And since this piece references Campbell’s joke just before he is sedated, I think it deserves to be preserved for posterity as it’s quite hard to hear in the show. The full joke, from the play:

There’s this loony! Walks into a pub with his dog and the barman says; “Hey! Nae dogs in here, pal!” But, the loony tells him it’s a talking dog and says, “Look, if I can make him answer three questions, can he stay?” The barman says, “Right, let’s see then.”

So the loony says to the dog, “What is the texture of sandpaper?” And the dog says “Rough!” And then the guy asks, “Who was Scotland’s goalkeeper in the 1978 World Cup?” and the dog says, “Rough!” And then, “Who was the greatest American baseball player of all time?” and the dog says, “Ruth!”

The barman’s definitely not impressed! He grabs the loony by the collar and throws him into the street! He grabs the dog by the collar and throws him into the street!

And as they’re lying in the gutter the wee dog looks up with tears in his eyes and says, “diMaggio?”

I’m going to try to get one more thing posted for Day 6 (although it may be a day or so late), but in the meantime, I hope you enjoy this!

This is the first time in the last several days that Campbell Bain has felt more or less himself, not trapped under a heavy blanket of medicinal fog. He can tell Fergus, doing vigil by his bedside, has been holding onto the question for a while, waiting for this moment, when he finally asks, “So why did you lie?”

“I didn’t lie!” He yelps indignantly; crossing his arms over his chest. “About what?”

Fergus snorts. “So McKenna came to the idea you were ‘acting’ on his own?”

Oh. That.

“Well, aye, I told him that, but it was no a lie.”

“No?” He can tell by the tone that he’s on the receiving end of his friend’s judgment. And while it’s not unkind, he doesn’t like it.

“I had to do something, didn’t I? I couldnae go to Perth.” He had been to Perth on holiday throughout his childhood and hated every second of each trip. His aunt thought good children were quiet and cheerful, and he had never managed to be more than one of those things at a time. “You know I couldnae go to Perth.”

“And I know you’re not a good enough actor for all of that,” Fergus says with a trace of a smile on his face.

“That’s no very nice,” he says crossly. It’s true, maybe, but not very nice. Then, because he can’t help himself, “When did you realize?”

Fergus considers. “I knew something was coming when your da left,” he says after a moment. Wouldn’t have let you do the show, if it was up to me.”

“Traitor,” Campbell says, although it’s primarily in jest.

“But mostly, you don’t like heights. Always telling me I’ll fall, when I’m escaping. Didn’t think you’d have opened that window if you didn’t think, just for a minute, that you might fly.”

He feels suddenly exposed, far too visible. Shifting under his blanket, he pulls his knees to his chest. “Aye.”

“So then why try to cover it up to McKenna?”

Because he needs it to be an act. Not Eddie, him. Because he had thought the drugs were finally working. Because he doesn’t know how to admit that he’s afraid of who he would have become in Perth, that he’s safe within these walls. Because he thought he was better. Because he needs to be better. Because he needs someone, anyone, to believe that he isn’t forever balancing on a knife’s edge, hanging on for dear life to anything that makes him feel a bit more in control.

But he can’t find words for any of that. So he says the closest thing he can think of.

“Because sometimes you just have to look someone in the eye and tell them the truth that should be, instead of the truth that is.”

That’s not bad, he thinks. Maybe he’ll use that again some day.

Fergus seems less impressed, but he doesn’t push. He sits in Fergus-typical silence for a bit, then says, “You know, the joke about the dog is terrible.”

“I know,” Campbell says.

[thebestofoneshots]

✩ Star : Idk how to describe myself so sorry if this is bad 💀

Personality: kinda mean/ bitchy (I’m working on it 😭), keeps to myself, INTP, awkward, shy, funny when you get to know me, very calm, Loyal

Physical Appearance: Plus size, African - American, Cubby face, Cat pretty (if you know what that means), 5’7 so around 170.18 cm?

Hobbies: Blogging, writing, dancing, singing, and reading

I’m open to poly!marauders too btw 🤍🤍

If you want to participate in "TBOS' 400 Followers Celebration" too, you can look at this post for all the options of prompts you can choose form <3

☆ Star: send a short description of yourself and I’ll tell you who I ship you with!

I ship you with Remus & James! In first year they were both kinda scared of you, with your closed off vibe and your slightly bitchy attitude, but Remus was the first one to realize it wasn’t that you were actually mean, but that you were a little shy instead, and that you would rather stay inside and read a book to go out and party like his friends would. As the most introverted of his own group of friends, he totally understood.

Eventually, and mostly thanks to Remus’ insistence, you joined their friend group, and you were glad, since Lily, Marlene, Mary were such fantastic girlfriends you actually enjoyed spending time with them, instead of locking yourself up the library and reading on and on until your eyes hurt.

Sirius and you did not get along at first, he thought your mean attitude meant you were stuck up, which is something James couldn’t understand at all, he thought you were lovely. From the way you moved, to the way you spoke, he once heard you singing to yourself too, and that’s when he knew he was a goner. James was the first one to fall for you, he had the most massive crush you’d ever seen. He called you love, and kitten and even if you pretended to hate it, you secretly loved it. He still calls you kitten to this day.

But for some reason, even if you clearly liked each other, the two of you did not start to date immediately, in fact, even while you were best friends, and hung around each other all the time, he hadn’t asked you to actually date him yet, poor boy was too scared of getting rejected.

When Remus started to like you, he felt miserable, he knew James had a huge crush on you and he didn’t want to damage his relationship with you. It was messy, and he tried to keep his distance, but you didn’t let him. You were not going to let your first friend at Hogwarts run off without a reason. So you confronted him, and finally, he admitted to liking you. That’s when you two shared your first kiss.

Eventually, you had to talk to James about it, and that’s how the throuple started. James figured he’d be open to that kind of a relationship, and Remus said he would too, you were ecstatic.

When you all became official, you couldn’t believe you hadn’t let it happen sooner. James, being the fool in love he was, was always blowing kisses at you on Quidditch matches, hugging you from behind and praising how beautiful your skin looked when the sun hit it while you looked at him fly from the bleachers.

Remus, on the other hand, was a lot more reserved with his PDA. Regardless, he loved holding hands as you walked from one classroom to another, and he tended to place his hand over your leg while you studied together at the library. Remus is just as good of a boyfriend as James, but you could share different things with him. He absolutely loves reading whatever you write, and he always encourages you to write even more. Sometimes the two of you just sit together and listen to some music while you write, and he reads a book. You really do enjoy each other’s company. You especially love how clingy he gets around the full moon; even James takes a few steps back from you at that time of the month because he just knows how cranky Remus can get.

The two boys absolutely love to see you dance; they’re absolutely enthralled by the way you move. James was the first one to ask you for a dance, and you had couldn’t stop laughing because he would just continue to crack the stupidest of jokes. Remus joined the two of you on the dance floor later that night; the three of you found a way to move with the rhythm in sync with each other, enjoying the tunes that went through the record player.

Ren and Rem sound so cute together, though. Imagine the wedding invitations! Anyway, I hope you like this. Much love, Lilly xx

MASTERLIST

[ivegennedmylastloss]

hidey hodey neighborinoes i know i may or may not have disappeared for like half a fucking year but brain does what brain do. since i am now willing to admit that i likely will not find the motivation to write a full length fic like i would want, i wanted to post the “outline” (re: complete gibberish only past me could understand). at some point i’ll try to compile all the tidbits i had sprinkled across drafts and docs and try to clean it up a little but, well, im not even sure what i meant in some spots. hopefully ill pull the writers block out of my ass one day but until then, take this word vomit:

(for clarifications sake, r= red/ranboo, g= green/charlie, b= blue/sneeg, h= hetch, sfm= showfall media)

retelling of ep three from hetch’s pov. mask broke sfm doesn’t know. reset after stab still aware of what he’s doing but can’t control himself. hopeful ending with planning to save the trio and get them out?

the closet sfm is onto hetch so he has to do damage control ran receiving no instructions. things settle scenes been dragging he panics and basically controls r to kill ethan

maybe broadcasted to a different universe. problem w family and friends recognize

maybe broadcasted to rich assholes like in the purge/gladiator type deal?

the face of the hacker wasn’t actually supposed to do things but did anyways

follow up w/ rgb saving him g and b reluctant. r insist they won’t let anyone else die because of them. idk burn the mall maybe torch it like a fuckin wasp nest

employees stop at the door mannequins little nightmares two.

all four struggling down the road maybe r passing out carried by g or b

hot wire a car

traumatize gas station clerk

fire department from fire alarm

hetch flag down car 2 options:

car sped off but called police for them

offered ride to hospital

hetch the sidewalk isn’t wide enough fourth wheel type deal mostly unscathed compared to rgb but smol bean has anxiety and left over programming. weak little noodle arms can’t help shit. b sending hella death glares

b wouldn’t want to help hetch

r electrocuted from attempted mask removal

through the power of friendship and laws of physics or electrical plasma whatever it isn’t fatal hoorah

hetch stunned doesn’t help gb fuckin pissed at him

paramedics confused about what happened to these very dedicated cosplayers that are found half dead barely hours after the live finale

r wakes and is terrified thinking they’re at the box and start screaming for gb. hetch freezes g n b have to be held back by police

hospital r coma from noggin surgery (medically induced for healing cause wtf) g and b want to kick hetch’s ass only stop cause of r

prob not ccs maybe r foster kid hinted maybe

b needs to get to punch someone. american healthcare so probably a doctor or a nurse

hetch medically released first<irrelevant travel distance. hetch watching charlie and sneeg have friends and family going in and out but r has no on so hetch goes

others not allowed in camp out in waiting room. ran wakes up and freaks. competent doc allows them in and r calms down. good doc fights for them to be able to stay in the room psych health. special accommodations are made no tv in room gets a double room for more beds/couches <<needs special room post brain surgery op icu maybe nurse/doc maneuverability <<< maybe one allowed in at a time

^the nice doctor thrown in for pity maybe philza if crossover? detective techno? or both detectives that almost beat the shit outta the responding cops for fucking up the most important case they’d ever get

sfm sends an employee pretending to be ranboos mom. the others are scared but also she is acting like a mom that lost her kid so maybe it’s okay??<< others not allowed in the room since family only? nope ran wakes up freaks cause that bitch ain’t momboo (dead question mark? orphan? don’t tell techno)

employee tries to strangle r no loose ends: doc pulls her off; trio breaks in hetch proves himself?; r is a bamf and defends themself (hitting? reverse uno they strangle her? rips out iv and stabs her?< needle to weak would have to be in eye)

r scared to sleep from cabin electrocution and execution hold hand 👉👈?

carousel saved NO FIRE IF CAROUSEL perhaps a group meet for victims ranboo and hetch reluctant to enter cause they think they’re their murderers. eef spots r and runs to hug him others follow positive to r wary to hetch b says hetch is the one responsible for saving all of them bada bing bada boom happy ending

[idiopath-fic-smile]

having a quiet afternoon in; feeling like doing that "choose a WIP and i'll write a bit of it" meme that's been going around but I only have 2 WIPs so it's really just a binary choice:

"e/R 1970's" (sequel to this)

"the patron saint of all-night diners" (sideways spin-off of this feat. Julie the waitress and the Reagan-hating fry cook falling in love)

(i don't think you're supposed to give that much context to the WIPs but *sunglasses emoji* sometimes you gotta break the rules.)

snippets under the cut. both of them are set in restaurants in the American midwest, which i mention only because it might be distracting otherwise. throw me an ask about one or the other and i'll write three more sentences. i will do this until i get tired.

e/R 1970's

Grantaire frowns down at her menu. “Suppose I’ll have to get used to lentils eventually,” she says, “if it’s bound to become part of the lifestyle. Only, remember when all you had to do to be a lesbian was want to make love to women?”

“And live entirely submerged in fear and shame?” Enjolras replies, without heat. New York’s Stonewall Riot seven years earlier—and the bolder, more confrontational movement that followed it—have changed her. With a suitable outlet for her particular magnificent energy, she is more focused than ever in work, and a little calmer in repose.

“True,” Grantaire replies. “But I worry that any day now, we’ll be issued a box of cats.” She shakes her head theatrically. “You know I can barely keep houseplants alive.”

“Houseplants don’t meow until you remember to water them,” says Enjolras. “And I admit, I have a morbid curiosity for what you’d name a pet.” She raises her eyebrows.

“Skinny Bones, if we fed him the food of our people,” says Grantaire. “Did you see they sell vegetable ice cream?”

Enjolras shrugs serenely. “We’d give him meat,” she says. “Cats are carnivores. And as far as human food goes, the spinach and black olive enchiladas aren’t half bad.”

They’re sharing a table at Viv’s Vegetarian Spot, the best lesbian-owned cafe in all of Boystown and likely all of Chicago. “Best” being perhaps a little generous, in Grantaire’s meatloaf-and-potatoes-loving book.

“You know I admire your devotion to supporting our sisters-in-arms—our sisters-in-amour, let’s say,” Grantaire counters, “but in this one particular case, I’ll never grasp why you—”

Enjolras reaches over and squeezes her hand; their waitress has swooped in, the numerous political pins rattling on her denim jacket like chainmail. “WE HAVE BEEN TOO NICE TOO LONG” reads one. “OUT OF THE CLOSET, INTO THE STREETS” reads another.

“Hi there, I’m Sandy. Can I get you two anything?” she asks.

“I’ll have the enchiladas,” says Enjolras. She hasn’t moved her hand on top of Grantaire’s. And then she beams up at Sandy and adds, deliberately, “And my date will have…”

“The enchiladas also,” Grantaire fills in, swallowing hard as Sandy nods and retreats to fetch them waters like this is the most normal and natural thing in the world. “Alright,” Grantaire says. “I think I can grasp it now.”

the patron saint of all-night diners

The first thing to know about Al’s 24-Hour Eats is that it didn’t start as a haven for the queers and deviants of the greater Indianapolis area.

The second is that the transformation was no accident.

“Julie Williams,” says Lloyd, the night manager.

Julie nods, smiles blandly. She does not adjust her unfashionable brown turtleneck or her equally out-of-date khaki maxi skirt, both chosen with care at Goodwill in an effort to look as staid and buttoned-up and employable as possible.

Lloyd’s eyes scan down her resume. She presses her lips together. Given that he’d kept her waiting in the narrow, dingy outside his office twenty minutes into their scheduled 10 o’clock appointment, it feels like he could’ve at least already read a single sheet of paper. A bead of sweat slides down her spine.

There are six lies on her resume, and seven truths. The lies: previous places of employment, mostly, retroactively fitting her with a past where she has always been known as she. The provided contact numbers belong to sympathetic friends who have been told to answer the phone cautiously over the next couple of days. The truths: her name, first of all, truer now for years than whatever might be printed on her birth certificate. Her list of relevant skills; even in her previous life, she knew her way around a tray of plates, a table full of rowdy drunks.

Also this: Julie Williams is a people person.

This will be important later.

“You ever done this before?” Lloyd says suddenly.

Julie blinks. He’s still holding the paper in his hand. The paper which says that she has a combined fifteen years of experience working as a waitress in dining establishments across the Midwest. This is not strictly true, but that’s not the point.

“Yes, I have,” she says, in her most pleasant voice. “Most recently, six years at Sunrise.”

“Sunrise in…?” Lloyd trails off.

“Lafayette. Up way past Lebanon.”

“Were you any good at it?”

“Very,” says Julie without hesitation.

Lloyd lets out a long sigh. “That’s good, that’s good. Between you and me, we’ve been having a tough time filling the night shift lately. Nobody wants to work anymore. And this part of town going the way it’s been going, we’ve been getting a lot of weirdos applying.” He raises his eyebrows.

“I’m real sorry to hear that,” she says. A second bead of sweat is slipping down to join the first one, right at the start of her asscrack. Charming.

“Yeah.” He pulls himself to his feet and shakes his head. “This place is headed downhill fast. Has been since that seedy little rathole across the street opened.” He must be talking about Hey Sailor, the windowless establishment Julie passed on her way here. Mentally, Julie updates the little dot on her mental map from probably a gar bar to almost certainly a gay bar.

“I should warn you,” he adds, “the crowd gets a little wild at night. Our last waitress quit because she couldn’t hack it. Think you can stand up to the freaks and perverts?”

She can feel her smile go sharp-edged. “I don’t let anyone push me around, sir.”

Provided the patron saint of all-night diners comes through for her and she gets the job, Julie makes a solemn vow to herself just then, regarding said freaks and perverts.

This, too, will be important later.

[destiny-in-the-universe]

Commentary & Thoughts on Recent Fixations!

so, i recently finished another series; in other words, american dragon: jake long, and i am- screeching, literally. screeching.

first of all, i’m basically watching the shows i never got to see when i was a kid, or easily could’ve forgotten about because it was years ago, and holy stars- none of the shows disappointed, but unfortunately it has led to a recent amount of ridiculous brainrot and horrible fixating that could easily be a problem lol (it already is, i can’t seem to get enough of this content)

this is the reason why the secret quartet project has become such a big thing for me, but this isn’t technically about the crossover- this is literally me using tumblr as a way to get out my thoughts and theories and headcanons for the shows because goodness gracious, why did i have to fixate on cancelled- discontinued :)- shows but okay, this one is mostly about american dragon.

on one hand, you’ve got our title lead - jake long - who, oh my stars this kid- let me reiterate by saying he is in middle school (even though he’s fourteen, so did he get held back or are schools different in nyc?) and so a lot of his dumb, stupid, and daring decisions are literally because he is a teenager. jake however, is so adhd coded it’s insane, but anyway- like. he grows so much during the series- knowing when to open up to his own mistakes, that he’s clearly protective of his own family, and so forth but i also feel like bringing up: living a double life is hard and having to protect an entire magical community is going to wear you down, and we do get to see that- jake’s a kid with a huge weight and responsibility on his shoulders and hoo boy, he gets to go through it- esp. in season two- that was an entire rollercoaster

which also brings me to my next point: the huntsclan arc could’ve gotten an entire season dedicated to it, and not to mention- there’s- the whole thing with jake and rose and i’m just. we’ll get to that later but oh my god, the whole attempting to destroy the entire magical community should’ve gotten an entire season because much like other series i got into- american dragon is very episodic, and not entirely as connected but i wish we could’ve gotten more about the huntsmaster- what his deal is exactly, and why he’s got it particularly out for the american dragon specifically, but alas it ended too short-

but it easily brings me to my next point and one that will not leave me alone no matter what i do-

first of all: the dark dragon could’ve been handled so much better. like, don’t get me wrong- it was an interesting storyline, the arc was brilliant but because of the way the final episode ended- among other things- but seriously, i wanted more in the battle between the longs and the dark dragon, i wanted to see the dark dragon’s backstory and who he was but of course, i really don’t think he would’ve come back, after the season two finale

though this- oomf, that entire episode was wonderful and i loved it but also had me screaming the entire time- it ended a little anticlimactically and a bit disappointing i’ll admit because i had certain expectations, and you could definitely see where they were trying to pave into the next season but then that never happened. the dark dragon should’ve also had its own season with expanded lore and arcs- it also ended so anticlimactically, and i was hoping to see more for the identity reveal (i had no doubts that jonathan would be accepting but holy cow- i wanted more-)

also, fair warning- this might get long because there’s so much commentary and thoughts but there will be more, both for this and the other active fixations,

Character Dynamic Commentary

Jake and Rose: these two make me want to go feral; like, oh my god- they are so star-crossed, and their dynamic was so good? but you also have the fact that rose had amnesia; she literally had her memories wiped away, and replaced no less, only to move to another country. jake seriously went through it here, though this only brings me to my next point- rose realizing that jake was the american dragon honestly tore a piece of my heart out- but then we get the freaking episode where the huntsclan got their hands on the aztec crystals bc rose was being threatened and i swear i screamed; but rose and jake are such a power couple, like they would be unstoppable if they were able to fully work together, we’ve seen it. their relationship deserved to shine

Jake and the Long Family: i don’t really know how to describe all of them, but honestly- jake is clearly very protective of them; and while yes, he has the sibling rivalry with haley- and he genuinely does want the experience of a normal teenager, there’s still a lot he’s shown to be protective of his own family. there’s episodes where, despite his complaining about his own dad, jake realizes just how much jonathan long loves him and it’s so- holy stars, it makes me want to wag my tail, the one with the straogi where jake is weakened by them, and he still jumps at the chance to protect his dad even when he can barely do anything? or when he finally releases being a cougar scout could be fun? like also, the series finale- in season two, when jake almost gave up everything to save gramps from the dark dragon- he’s fourteen and does this, like i could honestly tie it back to jake having a dragon’s possessiveness but we’ll leave that for a separate post

Jake, Spud, and Trixie: i’m going to screech about these three. i love their dynamic- and jake and spud are very neurodivergent, you cannot take this headcanon from my cold, dead hands lol. like jake is adhd and spud, this kid is autistic. you will not be able to change my mind but seriously, their friendship is so strong and sure for episode reasons, sometimes they don’t exactly get along and it was almost killing me with the knowledge that spud and trixie didn’t know about jake being a dragon- the first reveal episode had me grinning, they are the best of friends. also spud knowing coding and hacking despite seemingly being very dumb? like he’s clearly intelligent- and admitted he would fail on purpose so what more is there to him?

Jake and the Dark Dragon: i love how i’m referencing a dynamic that barely got its screentime- but also, there was so much more potential for these two. like, i would’ve loved something where the dark dragon wanted to recruit jake to join his army- mentor him, it would have been such a great way to turn jake against his grandpa, against his own family but they didn’t do it. also, genuinely would’ve just loved learning more about what the dark dragon’s deal was- we got more for the huntsclan than we did for him, and maybe if the series hadn’t been cancelled, it might’ve been seen but alas

Now moving on to the closing features because i am immensely fixated- if there was a theoretical season three, i genuinely want the new threat that jake has to face to be the government (?) - think something like the guys in white from danny phantom but where they’re trying to capture magical creatures and do worse than what professor rotwood has tried (maybe even he goes on to help jake when he realizes that this group isn’t just looking to expose them) and planning to experiment on them or something. jake could be captured, or something like that and then things get more intense but we’ll get to this later because hoo boy, oh i have so many thoughts about the would’ve-been of season threes (looking at you too, rc9gn)

anyway, this show did not disappoint- sometimes it was kind of awkward to get through but even then, even with all of that, you could see the dedication placed (but the season two design for jake as a dragon was certainly… something)

anyway, that‘s all i have for today!

~ Mod Danny

[beabnormal24]

So, Wheels hit the concrete when you need a cup of sweet tea is actually part of a series that I'm trying to compose, where each story has a similar build (the main couple + the third one in the middle)

The first story, is obviously based on Charlos + Pierre.

The second story, as already hinted in the first one, is based on Dando + Carlos.

I am almost finished with it, I'm actually at the +1 part, though I'm not really sure about some passages so I would really really love it if someone would give me some feedback.

I'll give you an example with this little snippet:

--

1. Bahrain / Australia

It feels like going backwards.

Which, to be fair, it’s something he would’ve never expected to address as one of his emotions, perhaps too used to always moving forward, go straight, take the curve, surpass, go, go, go-

Is it even an emotion, though, to walk in the opposite direction?

It shouldn’t feel as life shattering as it does right now, his heart thumping in his chest in a rhythm of its own as the corners of his eyes start to sting, dirt and smoke and dust all mixing up and reaching through the visor of his helmet that feels so wrong in so many ways.

(Too light, too narrow, too loose, too large, too plastic, too fake, not original, not designed by him. Bought on Amazon? Yeah, probably, he has an image of his search history for ‘motocross helmets’)

He needs the break anyway, no matter how much it hurts to grip at a steering wheel that doesn’t fit exactly right under his fingers and how every time he sets foot on Austrian soil, his chest gets so tight and uncomfortable and there are so many memories rushing back.

He has regrets, it’s not like he’s that immature to not admit it. Allegedly, he does not exactly act his own age, and maybe it’s more the times people don’t take him seriously than the other way around, and he should really start to worry about it since he has surpassed the thirty years old line, but he can admit that.

“Haha, Daniel Ricciardo who has regrets? As if it’s possible!”

Yeah, it is possible, and it is even more possible in moments like this one, lost somewhere in the suburbs of Perth where he can pretend he never made wrong decisions, where there is no car but a bike instead, where there is no doubts about whether he will still be here in Perth this time next year or flying off to the Middle East.

He can pretend he doesn’t care at all about it, too.

No, he doesn’t care, at least for the moment. In this single instant in front of a deserted land and a moon slowly descending and a sky turning into a familiar clear blue that makes his heart skip a few beats, he can pretend that he’s exactly where he wants to be in life.

It isn’t far from the truth, though. He always imagined his retirement to be like this: going back and forth between Australia and LA, but mostly enjoying the outskirts of his hometown not really too far from his childhood home, build his own house, a family perhaps – possibly. Just enjoy the familiarity of it all with a taste of American civilization and obnoxiousness from time to time, a socially friendly twist to Sebastian’s kind of disappearance from the reflectors somewhere remotely in Switzerland.

Except that this isn’t retirement, because he is going between Australia and LA and Milton Keynes.

Or that’s what, at least, he keeps telling himself, the others, his mum when she asks him if he is thinking about finally changing his domicile from Monaco to Perth again for the next year.

“I’ll have more work to do next year, mum. I’ll need to stay closer to the factory” he answers every time, stuffing his mouth with whatever food he has on his plate so that she will get the hint and stop asking questions.

He doesn’t know if it’s true, he doesn’t even know if it will be Italy or England or anywhere else, really.

He is used to having a feeling for things. He always had a feeling when he knew that it was going to be a good race: a tingling on his fingertips, a warm sensation in his stomach, a tickling on the left side of his nose; always something, a little thing, a little hint.

Now it’s like it’s all numb, like his limbs don’t know how to cooperate anymore, his body doesn’t know how to function when he’s not feeling jet lagged 24/7, and his back isn’t accustomed to sleeping on awful beds, and his hands want to desperately grip a real steering wheel, one that was designed just for him and works exactly for his mind, for his way of thinking.

Something that is under his control, for once.

He closes his eyes, takes in the smell of dirt and sweat and open air and a distant one of a flock that must’ve passed right by minutes ago. The thought makes him laugh, the kind of one that leaves him breathless and almost dizzy with the emptiness of his chest, light and airy.

No more than half a year ago, he was used to live in Monaco every other week and now he’s standing in front of this endless expanse of land and if he turns his head to the left and cups his ear just right, he can hear the giggling of the bells wrapped around the necks of sheep.

From Monaco and expensive things and rich people and extravagance all around, to deserted moors and fucking sheep.

From plain obscure skies that looked like a black hole was threatening to swallow him whole, to staring at the sea of stars hovering over his head, bright and clear in the blue of an Australian summer night – the winter of the other hemisphere.

It feels like going backwards, and the thought does something ugly in his stomach.

He shuts off the bike, smirks when the engine protests a bit, chuckles to himself as he hops off the saddle and the exhaust coughs a little cloud of thick grey smoke, the vehicle sagging at the sudden weight loss.

He pats the black leather, traces the corners of a recently new scratch with the tip of his finger and smiles at the way the white foam looks like it’s going to burst out of it at any second.

“You’re just like me, aren’t you?” he asks, mostly to the bike, but it could be also referred to the sky and the stars or the low bushes or the greedy insects that wait for the right moment to attack his skin or the flock of sheep slowly walking away from him.

It could be referred to himself as well, who is just like him but himself, after all?

“Unyielding, perhaps a little pretentious. Isn’t that right?”

He wishes he could get an answer, even though there probably isn’t a proper one for such a question.

The moon is nothing but a smudge of white this night: not a full moon, not even a half, just a hint, a mistake, a wrong brushstroke in the painting coming directly from nature’s hand, looking like it doesn’t belong there at all.

A perfect imperfection, it seems. After all, there’re poems about it, there are dreams of reaching it, of touching it with bare hands, but what do people think about when they have a blue sky in mind? The sun or the moon?

Will people think about him after all of this? Has he actually left something worth remembering?

The sun or the moon?

(He’s still immature enough to pretend he doesn’t care about that.)

His hand slowly slips inside the right pocket of his jacket, fingers wrapping around the sharp edges of his phone as if giving himself time to change his mind.

In the end, he does not, and he cracks a crooked smile instead, catches his distorted reflection on the black screen, scrambling for the front camera with almost trembling fingers that he swears it’s not hesitancy.

His cheek has a trace of thick black motor oil on it, a smidge that almost gets lost in the untrimmed beard he is finally letting himself grow however long he prefers – there’s no itch from balaclavas, no redness from sweat nor tight lines over his cheekbones -, and his curls are plastered all across his forehead, a single one reaching the space between his eyebrows, scarves at the bridge of his nose that is always there in some ways.

His curls are receding, thinning. Well, he guesses his time would’ve come, too, eventually, just like he had endlessly teased Sebastian for. But it’s not like he will actually acknowledge it.

He's everything but perfect, far from the polished imagine he usually walks around with, but he ignores that, too, taking a selfie with a smile that almost doesn’t make it all in the little screen, and being careful of getting the right angle so that the photo will have everything: the thorny bush, the pointy rock, the bright stars, the sheep’s footprints, the moon streak, the scratch on his bike’s saddle that- now that he notices it, it almost looks like the moon in the night sky itself.

He snaps the photo and thinks out loud “Lando would have a good laugh about that” and since here he can do whatever he wants and pretend that there won’t be any repercussions, he just hits send.

He has no idea what hour it is in Monaco. Besides, Lando is probably busy with the last preparations for Bahrain, and if Daniel can still count right in his head, then he should be flying out tomorrow – he can’t. But the younger man still answers in the span of a few minutes, when Daniel has managed to find a comfortable position with his back against the bike, only one knee bent while he lets the other one lean on a pebble, the scalding muffler throwing heat waves behind his head.

Daniel looks at his phone with what he can assume is the dumbest smile ever when he sees Lando’s profile picture pop up on his screen, him and his camera in the reflection of his latest helmet.

(Daniel has a first design sketch tucked away in some remote corner of his phone’s albums, because Lando says he trusts him with his creativity, and Daniel is a weak man and he helps even when Lando doesn’t ask directly, because he doesn’t know how not to. Which is ridiculous for someone of his age, really.)

- Landooo:

[Reply to IMG_0552_.JPG] lookin sharp af!!

Bummer that you can’t be there for first race

Gonna beat some of your ass at FIFA in the upside-down land

Food’s on me

There’s a dumb smile on his face and he knows that because he can feel it, in the way the corners of his mouth indent his cheeks and his lips hurt from stretching so wide.

He wonders, maybe outside of some self-imposed limits, if Lando is writing to him when it’s the middle of the night or early morning. He wonders if Lando is getting enough sleep, if he has been struggling like last year, if the anxiety is till biting at his back, if he’ll ever feel the need again to call Daniel and vent, talk about all the things that course through his head because he needs to empty it.

Sometimes, Daniel had his things, too, and Lando would sit there and look at him with eyes too big for his face and listen to every word like they actually meant something. After, Daniel would feel utterly ridiculous at sharing his thoughts with someone ten years younger, who probably didn’t even know what it meant to feel the things Daniel felt – too old, still young, kind of in the middle – but it was easy to forget that when Lando was just... Lando.

- You:

[Reply to Gonna beat some of you|] Sure you will, babe

[Reply to Dinner’s on me] Nah, my country, my pleasure. I know where to take you

- Landooo:

Deal

U take me whrv you want and I pay. I still make more money than you anyway

Unless you took herding sheep as a side job

You field mouse

Daniel chuckles to himself, lets his thumbs swipe over the keyboard for a few moments, takes in the feeling of his chest swelling, of his heart beating steadily, like it’s common, like everything is as it always was.

- You:

Stop harassing your elders

Or I’ll call your mom

- Landooo:

Yeah right, you grandpa

Ill call *your* mom 😉

- You:

Landooo, not the mom jokes

What are you? Ten?

- Landooo:

I am a ten*

Well, Daniel thinks, true.

- You:

In what scale? From one to me?

- Landooo:

From one to yr mom

- You:

You’re unbelievable

- Landooo:

😙

- You:

Shouldn’t you be flying to Bahrain instead of harassing me?

- Landooo:

Im not harassing

Its my love language

[Reply to Shouldn’t you be fly|] IMG_0553_.JPG

Already here baby!!

But nothing is always like it was before, right? Panta rei and all that shit, he guesses.

Daniel stares at the picture of Carlos sitting at a clothed table - presumably in their hotel’s restaurant if the name stitched on the corners is anything to go by -, lips curled into a soft smile and eyes widened, his hand in the hair doing the peace sign to the camera, someone else’s elbow making it into the corner of the picture – perhaps Carlos’s trainer, or his cousin, whose name he can’t remember for the world… Oh no, right, another Carlos.

He looks like Lando had told him “Smile at the camera, cabrón, it’s for Daniel” and the fact is that he can imagine it clearly, Lando grinning big and bright and cackling like a maniac because he’s that spontaneous and he thought that sending Daniel a photo of Carlos as a reply would be funny.

It is not.

Daniel has no hard feelings towards Carlos, there’s no awkwardness between the two of them even though he had taken a habit of snatching Carlos’ seats in his career. It’s just that- sometimes Daniel feels like he’s intruding, like he’s being shoved in a third chair in the corner of a crooked framing, watching the main characters having a laugh by themselves about something that only they can know because they’re standing close and his chair… His chair is too far away.

It feels like the seat in front of Lando is the only one he can’t take away from Carlos, not even two years as teammates had been enough, and the awareness twists something in his stomach that isn’t exactly pleasant.

He can picture it clearly, Lando smiling at his phone after sending the photo before pocketing it, bringing his chin on his hands and staring at Carlos as they start talking about golf that and golf there, because they are posh kids with money ever since they were born, and Daniel just doesn’t fit in there.

Daniel finds golf boring as hell, and perhaps that’s enough of an explanation for everything.

- You:

Aye cabrón

Say hi from me

His last messages sit there in the chat, left unread and with no reply for minutes to no end, Daniel staring at it with something strangely hopeful in his chest, looking at those words - dull, derivative, perfunctory – as if they will give him any answers to the questions still left unsaid.

Four minutes pass when he decides to finally shut it, watching as the chat turns all black and the distorted reflection doesn’t mirror a smile anymore.

He wonders what it would be like to be swallowed by Monaco’s black hole this time of the year.

He can’t remember.

[sorrowful-sparrow]

Here’s some thoughts I’ve had about our sweet boy Ed-weird-o. This has no organization, is straight off the dome mostly but he’s just so asdfgjk;/&-/)/@ ✨✨

The reason his kindness shines through his tough/metal head exterior is because he knows how lonely he’s felt as a kid and doesn’t want to let the endearingly named sheepies ever succumb to what society and the “American dream” thinks they should enjoy

Even if Henderson (his favourite even though he’d never admit it out loud in such words) annoys the piss out of him with the fact that he NEVER SHUTS UP OR IS WRONG. It would hurt Eddie so bad if he had the same moment Steve did when Steve pumped him up before the snowball

Like Eddie would wanna throw DOWN

“FUCK THAT HENDERSON. Who gives A SHIT if they think you’re weird or a nerd. They’re just pissed they don’t have a single iota of your intelligence or creativity”

“FUCK MAN.” Fusses with his hair and tries to catch his breath and just makes himself more annoyed “who the hell do they think they are?!”

Finally de-escalates after Dustin keeps trying to calm him down with a super shocked face “dude… am I your favourite?” Cheeky grin

“Shut the hell up Henderson! It just makes me so—”

“Does this mean I can help with the Next campaign?”

Eddie scoffs, slightly offended “does my mastery of the dungeon not meet your expectations?”

“NO! Of course not! I just think if we collaborated we could really show them- ”

Then they argue/collaborate about the next campaign Eddie swinging from excitedly needing to take notes but not having paper or wanting this wave length of PURE GOLD to stop for him to find some

Later when he’s at home at the trailer (IF HE DOESNT GET DISTRACTED 🤦‍♀️) he’s furiously trying to remember everything and write quick notes so he can elaborately trick Dustin into falling into a trap

Plot twist: Dustin probably doesn’t. That kid is too friggin’ smart

Okay that was a lot of one scenario of Eddie and Dustin but I just love them guys. The brotherly vibe they give off is just 🥹🥹🥹

Eddie with a girlfriend would INSIST he isn’t whipped or a “simp” at first

But he totally is.. cmon.

If that guy got a single sliver of undivided attention from a pretty babe he’d fucking run with it.

He’d probably be such an annoying dick 😂

“I’ll have you know my sweet Dungeon Mistress, (Y/N), thinks the next campaign is BRILLIANT and MY BEST WORK, don’t you babe? Tell them.”

“I just complimented your hard work Eds.. please”

“BAAABE!” He clutches at his heart, offended, wounded, defeated “… it’s dungeon master… please…” pouty pleading cow eyes

She sighs, “it’s his best work, prepare yourselves for—“

Eddie leaps to covers your mouth before you can give them a single clue “BABE! SPOILERS!”

The younger boys are just like, “wtf Eddie..”

Also I have this really stupid one where he’s so drunk off beers, and you, and the summer heat

You guys are just chillin at the trailer, he’s laying, rambling and just so infatuated with the fact that you put up with his shit (AND DRUNK, guys.. seriously this is important)

Wayne left the radio on before going to work his night shift and Forever and Ever, amen comes on

And he just stops

Shoots out of your lap

“UGH. What the fuck is this shit?!”

You say, “I kinda like it..” sheepishly preparing for a rant about how THIS is not music, ITS SHIT made to make nuclear rural families feel like they’ve done the right thing by selling out and living that stupid fucking apple pie life the MAN tries to shove down everyone’s throat

And Eddie just stares at you, and without missing a beat BELTS OUT THIS SONG TO YOU.

With dramatic flair, and heavy eye contact.

And then you guys just laugh wildly and cuddle

And you threaten to tell everyone about it

And he tackles you and pins you down, “not if I keep you here forever”

There’s a pause.

You say, sarcastically cautious, “forever and ever?”

“Amen”

Kay I’m done. I just. This boy. I can’t 🥲🥲 he’s such a lil dweeb and I love him

[haarute]

for the record as an American, candy corn is not only real but HIGHLY controversial as a candy. Most people either love it or hate it, but half the people who love it also admit that it’s terrible. It has a slightly strange texture and it mostly tastes like sugar. (I’m a love it but it sucks person and I’ll eat a giant bag of it and hate myself for doing so because it’s objectively horrible!) I don’t know if you have any similar candy where even the people who love it also hate it, but there you go. the candy corn lore. hope the “it’s objectively awful” knowledge helps with homestuck lore

oh yeah i've come to learn in the years since that it is in fact real and incredibly mediocre apparently. i'm guessing it's controversial because it's like the leftovers candy that you might be given against your will forcing you to have an opinion on them? but i don't know if i read that somewhere or just assumed that it was the case anyway thank you for your input! i too love unhealthy and objectively awful trash, so i would be delighted to try them out if i ever visit the US alongside a bunch of shitty sodas probably. i'm VERY curious about this texture thing you mentioned now honestly.

[motownfiction]

the trade

All her life, Lucy’s parents told her a lot about the trade.

About how some insecure academics would tell you that you can never admit it if you like teaching (You can). About how publish-or-perish is mostly real, but very few candidates fresh on the job market have more than a piece or two on their resumes. About how the ranking of your school doesn’t matter as much as the research fit, as much as who has the money for you to come study there. Lucy took some of these secrets to heart; others, she ignored (as evidenced by her almost meltdown when she was accepted at Wayne State for a terminal master’s and not to Michigan for their accelerated Ph.D. a few years back). But now that she’s at NYU, a year and a half into her doctoral studies, she realizes just how little they prepared her for this part.

She’s worked with a lot of students by now, but none have gravitated toward her so much as Nikki Fredericks. Nikki was in Lucy’s first-year writing class last year. She comes from Toledo, Ohio, she has purple hair, and she wants to be a poet (“But my mom says I have to become a teacher first,” she said in the middle of their first writing conference last fall, dejected as can be). It’s no matter. Nikki is a poet at heart. Even her research papers sing off the page. It’s raw talent, unshaped, but Lucy doesn’t see any problem with that. She’s still unpolished in so many ways. But for all the good students she’s had in semesters gone by, Nikki is the first one who seems to really care. Nikki is the first one whom Lucy sees like a mentee.

And she has loved every second of it.

Will loves to see her inspired like this. He reminds her that she’s always wanted to be needed. The way he says it, it sounds like a warning. But it doesn’t bother Lucy much. It’s good to help people. It’s good to help students. And if Nikki Fredericks wants Lucy’s help, then so be it. She’s going to give it to her. The world deserves to hear her voice.

Whose voice? Will asks one night when Lucy is looking over Nikki’s paper for another class. Hers or yours?

Lucy doesn’t answer that question.

Nikki took her other composition class in the spring of that year, and this fall, she’s taking Lucy’s introductory literature course. It becomes a little inside joke. Nikki is the one constant in Lucy’s schedule, the paper she’ll always know she’ll enjoy the most in a wide-variety stack, the person she’ll always know in the middle of those first-day ice breakers. Lucy loved being that student in her own undergraduate classes. Now that she’s the instructor … it’s not the power that she likes. It’s the way she’s able to see herself make a difference, the way she’s able to be the teacher she always wanted.

In the spring, Lucy’s leading discussion sections in a British literature survey. It’s the closest they’ve ever let a second-year doctoral student come to teaching a survey course, as she’ll tell anyone who will listen (so mostly Will). She mentions something to Nikki after class when Nikki comes up to her desk and asks if she can look over her thesis statement for the upcoming essay on Othello. She expects Nikki to say yes, she’ll register, no problem. But she doesn’t.

Instead, she shuffles her feet at the front of the classroom and says that even though she knows she’d mostly be dealing with Lucy, she’s heard some really tough things about the main instructor. So she’s going to take the American literature survey instead.

“But I’ll keep in touch with you!” Nikki promises. “Like … how could I not?”

Lucy nods. She thinks it’s really polite that Nikki would say that, would let her believe for even half a second that she’ll stay her mentor (if she ever was in the first place). But Lucy knows better. She knows that when Nikki Fredericks drops off her Blue Book on the last day of the semester, that will be the last time she and Lucy ever really see each other. And even though she’s said goodbye to plenty of students before, none of those other students were so smart. None of those other students seemed to care that she was the teacher.

She tells Will she’s not that sad about it. That she understands. And on some level, she does. But when Will hands her a cup of tea and sits down beside her on the couch, she realizes just how tense she’s been … how much she can feel herself getting old, already, at twenty-five.

“They’re always going to move on,” he says, “but that doesn’t mean they forget you.”

Lucy sighs into the clouds above her vanilla tea.

If only her parents had prepared her for these parts of the trade. The personal ones. The heartbreaking ones. If only they’d warned her.

Then maybe she wouldn’t have to sigh into her tea.

(part of @nosebleedclub january challenge -- day xxviii!)

[hazelcephalopod]

Aight so I’ve watched season 4(?) I think of Yellowstone. This will be Part 1 or 2.

I’ve got some thoughts-

A) I’ve said this before and I’m saying it again. All this cowboy genre stuff reminds be of medieval feudal shit. You’ve got all the lords and their knights or servants or whatever, fighting each other over whatever bs. Mostly how much more land they desire on top of their massive estate. In the periphery is everyone else, government officials, s/x church people, the normal people (who would probably like a tiny fraction of all they damn land)…

B) this of course leads into the next thing and we’ll, it’s “the people whose land this historically was and they want it back”. This is portrayed as semi-understandable but still a conflict for cowboy lord who wants to keep that land. But it’s ok because their ancestors kinda let his have it for a while. Or something. It’s bad, not well done imo. I don’t have more to add on this point.

C) this one got to long. I’ll sum it up another post. Basically, this show can not treat people normal and wants it to be 1930 (ok maybe as late as 1980) and treat everyone including children as if it were. For instance, half hiring a runaway orphan to muck stables with the payment of sleeping in the stables and food.

D) there’s also the whole branding of the employees which is very weird. That’s a whole other post of it own.

Like, I’m not certain it’s conservative brain rot but I’m guessing it’s playing a part. Who else wants to go back to the good old days of putting orphans to work on your farm/ranch/etc when come to you for help cuz their life sucks and you’re maybe one of few people nice to them? Or, it’s ok the Native Americans gave them this land, sort of. They didn’t really have a choice but let’s pretend they kinda did -or something, that’s the implication I got. (I will admit the casting of First Nations and Native American people is good I just wish it was a better show for them, maybe season 5 is better.) IDK, it’s got parts that work I’ll admit but s/ lx things are either ridiculous or needed more people to work on the… everything.

Note: I haven’t really watched much of the other seasons, only pieces.

[papirouge]

I hate how everything online feels so US centric you know? Like no, stop assuming when I say I’m pro life I’m for this backwards medieval attitudes Americans have towards socialism and social welfare that’s needed to help decrease abortion rates. Being pro life for me means I support socialist systems to care for the poor and those in need that includes women who are expecting babies and the babies themselves. America shutting down maternity wards and refusing maternity leave for workers and canceling legislation that would give kids in schools free lunches instead of fucking school shootings ever week is an explicit American issue. I’ll gatekeep all day on this - Americans are not and never been truly pro life. Especially since they worship their guns so much it’s in their constitution 🙄

The fact they indifferently use socialism, leftism, globalism, communism, liberalism - and now 'wokism'....like they were synonym is enough for me to know they are idiots. I hardly take any political take coming from USAmericans that seriously tbh.

I'm not that much of a political person myself, but USAmericans are the only people acting like advocating for free access to healthcare was instantly making someone a Communist... Only on Tumblr I've been called a commie for advocating for a better wealth distribution 💀 They are insane.

"first they ask for free stuff, then they'll come for my property!!" bestie, we all know you're broke and ain't owning shit. Sit down.

In their mind = getting stuff for free = stealing someone's labor. It doesn't occur in their mind that health distribution can make it happen while everyone getting paid. When I fainted in a mall, got sent to ER, got tested AND went to the pharmacy for medication, I only had to pay 10€ for ALL of this. And yet, the ER, the medics, and my pharmacists all got fairly paid.

It's a well known thing in France that tax evasion loss covers the retirement hole which is the excuse for that reform. That's why ppl are fuckin shit up. That's unfair to make the people pay the price of greedy billionaires. The money is here. Wealth dstribution is the problem.

That's why it's soooo annoying to these twat scream about Communism at the slight possibility of a better redistribution. The fact that they're aligning with millionaires when they're socially closer to the homeless person down their block is cringe.

And yeah, pro life is beyond simply fighting to protect the unborn. That's also why every pro gun pro lifers Americans has cognitive dissonance. They're brainwashed by their savage culture bred from genocide and slavery. They are spiritually cursed. Only a few ones got the Grace to snap out of it.

They really shown they ugly hypocrite asses when they *suddenly* cared about gun violence bc the shooter was trans..... Disgusting.

If me wanting universal healthcare & get pregnant women have free pregnancy care makes me a Communist I genuinely don't care lmao Hail Stalin. I'm absolutely immune to this brand of anathema. Me being a Communism won't make anything that I say any less true 💅🏾

USAmerican hate Communism bc they know it's the only regime that could virtually rekt them, because Nazism was mostly targeting Jews, so the Whites USAmerican don't care that much (they'll never openly admit it ofc, but their obsesssive hate boner against Communism -and not as much against Nazism- speaks louder than words)

[manyothermusingsofmine]

Long Overdue || Drabble

Fandom: Ace Attorney     Wordcount: 6600 Warnings: None Summary: Nothing like a day out in an amusement park to finally confess to some things that have been due for a talk for a while

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

"Hey, has anyone ever told you that you look like Klavier Gavin, the rockstar prosecutor?"

Klavier barely moved from the comfortable spot on the amusement park bench he had parked himself on, keeping an eye on his friends bags as he sat. Honestly, as much as he loved fan interactions, right now he couldn't even bring himself to lower his dark sunglasses or be entertaining to anyone.

Sure, he was doing a lot better; he took care of himself again, had his hair recut and dyed by a professional and wore different clothes than the hoodie and sweatpants he had been practically living in when stuck in the downward spiral he had found himself in.

But even then, healing isn't linear, and today was not a good day. Or at least not good enough to put on either of his roles.

 ".... Yeah, I get that a lot. Sorry to disappoint,” he said in the best American accent he could muster to play his role of not-Klavier convincingly.

"Come on, honey," called who he presumed was the mother of the girl looking at him. He could almost see the wheels turning in her head before she decided this random stranger was probably speaking the truth and ran off to join her family.

He sighed, leaning back on the bench. It had been so tempting to send Athena a text saying he couldn't come to the park outing today. The whole thing had been her idea after all, to take many of their coworkers and whoever wanted to join on a trip to this amusement park.

And really, the only reason he decided to grin and bear it was-

"Here you go."

Mary handed him a bottle of coke, moved her bag from the bench to set between her legs and sit down next to him. She opened the bottle she got for herself.

"Danke," he replied, mimicking her movement and taking a sip.

"Hey, Mary, can I ask you something?"

"Yeah, sure. Shoot."

He thought for a moment of how to word it. Mary.... wasn't exactly the type of person to be in an amusement park. Ever. While everyone else had run off in different directions, aside from Apollo who had been on Athena's tail for damage control probably, she had mostly been stuck watching the bags. And he had mostly stuck around her to keep her company because he felt bad about that.

Or that was what he told himself, anyway. The other half of that truth was that he couldn't bring up the energy to stand in line for anything, and the lines around here were long.

"You're afraid of heights, like, badly afraid of heights. Herr Samurai still adores talking about the time he and Gumshoe had to pry you off Herr Edgeworth's ladder and how long it took."

"Pfft, yeah. How does he say it again? 'Worst case of rigor mortis on someone not deceased I have ever seen'?"

Klavier couldn't help but laugh a little at Mary’s impression of Blackquill

"Basically. So, that makes me wonder. Why did you come out today?"

Mary looked at him, taking another sip of her drink.

"I hoped it would convince you to come out as well," she admitted.

"I thought, maybe, if I was here, you'd be here too- Less pressure to join into the attractions here if you didn’t feel like it and, well, it's good to see you out and about."

Klavier couldn’t stop a small smile from curling around his lips. It was an incredibly thoughtful gesture with good intentions, especially from someone who they definitely had to save from the rollercoasters and-

"I guess that means the Ferris wheel is out of the question?"

"Unless you want me dead, in which case I'll text Simon right now to prosecute you afterwards."

"Oof, not even giving me a fighting chance in court by bringing out the big guns for the trial?" Klavier laughed, with her just giving a small smile in return.

“Hey, if you’re going to kill me, I want you prosecuted to the full extent of the law.”

“Fair enough.”

Klavier thought for a moment, his gaze on Mary who was calmly drinking some water. She had managed to fascinate him more and more recently, by really just pulling through and supporting him however she could. Even now, she was at one of the least likely places just in the hopes that being there would entice him to come along as well.

And, in her defense... clearly, it had worked. There had absolutely been a voice whispering in the back of his head that as long as Mary was there, Klavier wouldn't feel the need to be pushed into the wild attractions around the park that he would normally be thrilled at, but seemed a bit too overwhelming where he was at now. It was something he appreciated all the more now that he noticed it more.

So the least he could do was make sure she wouldn't just be used as some kind of packing donkey watch dog for the bags of everyone else. As if summoned by his thoughts, Athena suddenly appeared, closely followed by a very exhausted looking Apollo who had been having trouble to keep up and keep her out of trouble. Perfect.

"Wow, looks like both of you need a break. How about you take over bag duty for a while, and Mary and I find something to do?"

"Gladly!" Apollo jumped at the opportunity before Athena had a chance to chime in, immediately taking Klavier's spot on the bench as soon as the latter had bothered to get up

"But-" Mary softly protested.

"I won't drag you to the Ferris wheel," Klavier assured, offering her his hand to get up from the bench

"We'll find something lowkey to do instead. We didn't just come here to be packing mules, did we?"

A fair enough point. Mary took his hand to more easily get up from her sitting position, and left sticking closely by his side as to not lose him in the crowd. Athena just looked on as they left, before turning to Apollo.

"Was that planned?"

".... No."

"You're a bad liar, you know."

 The park was honestly bigger than Mary had first imagined, and she stuck close to Klavier to make sure she wouldn't lose him or her way around. She hadn't been here before, since she honestly had no reason to.

"It's not just rollercoasters and high rides like that around here," Klavier explained, pausing for a moment to let her catch up as his longer legs made for a faster walking pace.

"I've been here a couple times before, and they're always adding new stuff and taking old rides out. I'm pretty sure they even added some of those plushie grabbing machines at some point-"

"I'm sorry."

"... For what?"

She shrugged, unsure of how to put what she was apologizing for. A sigh left her as she bit her lower lip.

"If you want to go on the rides, any rides, just.. go. I don't mean to hold you back because of my irrational phobia, or burden-"

"Don't do that," he stated softly, but no less firmly.

"You're not burdening me for needing me to take your fear seriously, and I promise this place has plenty of accommodations for you as well. You're making it sound like I'm performing some great feat of self-sacrifice for letting you decide how you want to spend your day when it’s not. If there is some higher ride or roller coaster that you want to try, I'll be right there with you on it, okay?"

She blinked, surprised by how casually he mentioned that. There was no pressure to try anything, only the promise that he would be there for moral support if she did decide to face her fear, and that she had a say in what she wanted to happen. Especially the latter part of it made her look down at the ground for a moment

"Yeah, well. You'd be surprised at how many people don't bother to accommodate like that..."

"You paid to be here, just as much as Apollo, Athena, Simon, Nevada and me. The least we can do is make sure you have a fun time as well. So, what do you want to do?"

"... The plushie machines sound like a safe bet for now. You know, as safe as an obvious cash grab can get."

"Ach, there's worse ways to burn pocket money. C'mon, this way."

She quickly went after him, instinctively reaching out and grabbing the sleeve of his jacket so she didn't risk losing him in the ever growing crowd. Plus, she preferred staying close to him anyway.

 "Wow. Never thought I'd live to see the day where you couldn't charm some machine into doing what you want."

She laughed softly as Klavier threw her a side glance, the machine obviously besting him as the plushie he had been trying to get kept slipping from the metal claw, despite his best pleas against it.

"I swear these things have got to be illegal somehow. I should get the district court onto it," he said, easing up a little as he heard her laugh more audibly; it was just such a pleasant sound to him.

"This coming from the same person always telling me to be nice to the work printer," she grinned as she spoke, very lightly pushing him aside to gain access to the machine

"Here, let me try before you hurt your wallet as well as your pride."

She dropped money into the machine as well, giving herself three tries to get the plush parrot from the machine. As much as she would've loved to grab the plushie on her first go, Lady Fortuna wasn't that much on her side. She was still proud of herself for getting it on the second try, handing the plushie over to Klavier.

"Here you go. It's dumb luck, really."

"I was trying to get it for you," Klavier laughed. "Appreciate the thought, but a parrot suits you more than me."

"I'm an obnoxious mimic?"

"You're pret- pretty intelligent."

He tilted his head at the weird shift in her sentence, almost as if she had meant to leave a word out of the equation but her brain caught up with her before she did. He looked down at the parrot plush- typical fair stuff so not exactly of a very thrilling quality, but a sweet gesture none the less.

"I'll take pretty intelligent over pretty annoying," he said, earning himself a light shove to his arm as he laughed.

"Don't be rude to yourself," she replied, looking at the time on her phone afterwards.

"It's about to be lunch time, you hungry? I think I saw some interesting food joints on our way here."

They walked back, decided on one of the food joints together and found a bench to sit on while eating their lunch. An arguably unhealthy lunch, but a tasty one, and that's the best it would get in an amusement park.

There was a moment of silence between them as they ate, with Mary quietly wondering why this felt so much easier than any of the dates she had been going on. Well, she hadn't been, recently- Not since Simon advised her not to if it didn't help matters. Her gaze sort of accidentally met his when they both looked at each other from the corner of their eyes.

She quickly looked someplace else, praying to whichever god would listen that the warmth in her cheeks did not show up.

They hadn't really seen each other that much these past two or so weeks- Mary had been busy with work, again, and Klavier had been trying to piece his life back together while also dealing with an increased workload.

"So, uhm.." he started, pulling back her attention, "I heard through the grapevine that you kind of abruptly stopped going out with people.."

Mary looked up at Klavier, slowly taking a sip from her bottle of water. It wasn't exactly something she had been hiding from everyone, though she also didn't really openly talk about why she had decided to stop. Her hand subconsciously made its way to her necklace, fingers hooking behind the pendant as she moved it along the silver chain.

Klavier didn't pick up on it too much, only recognizing her nerves as such.

"Are you okay?" he asked, softly, wondering if something had happened and immediately feeling a wave of protectiveness washing over him.

"It's.. not what you think, Klavier. I didn't stop because someone was nasty to me, or anything like that. I.... only told Simon what happen, and that's after I begged him to not think of me as dumb or stupid, so."

"You know I'd never think that way of you," Klavier said softly.

Mary didn't even doubt that, but that didn't make admitting to what still felt like a very silly and stupid thing any easier.

"The last date I went on, was.. Nice. He was kind, genuinely interested..." her voice trailed off as she repeated the motion with the pendant of her necklace. She had been thinking about that particular date a lot lately, and how she had come to the same conclusion over and over again.

Yes, it was a nice date. Would've been perfect even, if she had only been on it with someone else.

"So what happened?" Klavier asked, genuinely curious as he took another bite of his lunch.

"... It just got way too close for comfort. I was used to being on bad dates that never went anywhere because, you know, they were bad dates. With people who would brag how I was number zillion on their list, with people who would treat wait staff horrendously and expected me to be okay with that, with people who really only wanted to hear the sound of their own voice and expected me to grovel at their feet for all their amazing accomplishments- I didn't have to actually consider starting anything with them because they already proved they weren't worth the effort I've got to put in to even begin falling in love, but..

Genuine interest in me? That was way too close for comfort. I didn't want to consider what that actually meant for me, so I blew it off really abruptly and only apologized over text when talking to Simon made me realise I was just. I don't know. Looking for distraction, or something? But I wasn't actually having any kind of fun, either way."

She bit her lip. It still felt awkward to admit that all it had been was basically a bad coping method to deal with a lot of conflicting emotions inside of her.

Klavier had just listened, clearly not judging her for what she needed to get of her chest.

"I guess I let a good one go," she concluded, "I do hope he found someone actually appreciative of his attentiveness, because he deserved better than how I ended things just because I ran scared."

"I guess we all do things we regret."

"Regret is.. I don't regret not going through with it. I'm mostly just upset that I was fully intent on ghosting him while making him think I just wanted a raincheck for a second date. I didn't want that second date, I just.. thought that would be a more gentle way of letting him down than just straight up going "I'm sorry, but your genuine demeanor terrifies me." because that sounds ridiculous even when I say it out loud now."

"So how did you actually end it, then?"

Mary clutched onto the heart pendant, instinctively.

"Uh.. I ended up sending him a message stating that I hadn't been honest with him, that I didn't want a second date; that it legitimately wasn't him but me with the issue, and that I hoped he'd find someone who would appreciate him like he deserves. Don't think I ever got a reply, either. He did read it though."

"Oof. Yeah, I can understand why that kept you from jumping back into the dating scene. Would you still want to?"

"Not.. really?" Mary replied in confusion. Klavier knew how she identified and how that affected her view on dating as a whole. Was he being deliberately obtuse about it, or did he just not remember? ... Admitting to it now wouldn't make it any easier, because it would also give away who she'd rather be spending her time with than the virtual strangers she had been on a date with.

The silence that now fell between them was awkward and uncomfortable, as both tried to focus on their lunch and a little less on each other.  Mary was wracking her brain, trying to find some way to make Klavier understand. But all she could think of was to admit that it would have been perfectly fine, all of it- had it been him, instead of Ren.

She tried to shake the thought off.

"I... I just don't think I wanna try it again. It doesn't appeal to me."

"I know; you don't need to defend yourself on it."

"That's not what I- I swear I'm telling you the truth. It was fine. He didn't do anything that warranted how I reacted. The whole thing would've been fine had it just been-"

"Mary-"

"You, jag älskar dig fortfarande"

Oh, fuck.

Her hands clasped over her mouth, as she pretty much heard herself internally scream. She really would've been better off reminding him of her demisexuality rather than whatever the hell this was. From her peripheral she saw him looking at her, in stunned silence and shocked confusion, and she felt how her whole face started to burn up into a bright hue of red.

Oh, she had to get the hell out of dodge. In a quick movement she stood up, clumsily grabbing her bag before it fell to the ground, her brain having come to such a screeching halt as it realized how badly it fucked up by not keeping up with her words that it now couldn't settle on which language to speak

"I uh- the uh- Toalett. for the- thing. With the grejer. I- Hejdå."

And before he even had a chance to stop her, she vanished in a nearby crowd and took off into the direction of one of the public bathrooms in the park.

"Mary!" he called after her, following her for a little bit before the crowd grew so thick that he lost her.

How was it this easy to lose someone with such a colorful hairstyle in a crowd? Guess all he could do was wait for her to come back. It wasn’t like he could completely follow her anyway. He sat back down on the bench, letting out a deep sigh as he slowly went over her words in his head, trying to remember what they meant. Goodbye, stuff, restroom basically….

Jag älskar dig fortfarande.

Well, he knew three of those words- it wasn’t the first time he had heard them, and heard them from her at that. His hand instinctively went up and into the back of his neck as he awkwardly tried to shift back into a comfortable spot on the bench he sat on, trying to ignore the heat that flared up throughout his face as the realization was starting to hit him like a brick to the back of the head.

… Oh.

 Meanwhile, she had hidden herself in one of the bathroom stalls; her breath rushing through her lungs as she had made her escape while a sudden wave of anger at herself seemed to overtake her.

"What the hell was that about?!" she mentally yelled at herself, wrapping her arms below her chest and squeezing tight in some hope that the self-hugging would calm her down.

"First thing you do after seeing him again when you know he's trying to get himself back together is add to the shattered puzzle of his life by dumping your conflicting feelings onto him?!"

Oh, heavens above, what had she done? It had been a moment of weakness, once again one of those moments where her brain failed to catch and filter what her mouth wanted to say in time.

Between him being gone for his sabbatical and only sporadically returning now that he was feeling somewhat better, Mary had been constantly trying to ignore this soft, persistent voice somewhere deep within herself  that whispered that she missed him, a feeling that grew more with each day that passed by.

The same kind of voice that brought up Klavier more and more while he was gone, sure, but one that also made a guest appearance during damn botched date with Ren of; sure, this guy is fine, but he's not who you actually want, is he?

God damnit, was she just never going to get past this? Would she be stuck forever pining for someone who she feared she couldn't have anymore with all that had changed in their lives since last time, and especially not with where he was mentally at now?

It wasn't fair. Not to him. So all she could do was hope that he hadn't memorized her native tongue well enough to realise what she said.

With a final huff, she shoved the feelings back down, wiping away a few tears before flushing the toilet despite not having used at all. Better to fake it in that case When emerging from the stall, the only other person in there did look at her a little funny, but she just shrugged and washed her hands.

"Stomach ache," she muttered while passing by them to get back outside. That wasn't exactly a lie, anyway. She found him faster than he had lost her in the crowd, and he seemed legitimately relieved to see her.

"Hey, what was-"

"Can you please forget I said that? It's.... It's neither the time nor the place, I don't want to talk about it and I don't want it to ruin the time we have left in this day."

"I didn't even fully understand it in the first place," Klavier said, frowning at her sudden insistence that the subject should be dropped. He also knew better than to tell her the part he did actually understand, or rather, still remembered from their past. Pushing that on her now would absolutely only make matters worse.

".... I'll tell you some other time," she muttered, looking away.

"But for now, can we please just pretend this didn't happen? Please?"

An awkward silence fell between them as Klavier considered his options. The last thing he wanted was to feel like he was interrogating some witness to a crime- she wouldn't appreciate it, and it wouldn’t help any in matters this personal, regardless of how badly he wanted to admit that- He gave a resigned sigh.

"Sure."

They tried their best to just have a nice day afterwards and it only took a few hours for the whole group to gather back together at the entrance gate. Athena looked from Klavier to Mary, then to Apollo, and then to Simon and Nevada. The latter three seemed to immediately pick up on her thoughts as well. It was, after all, hard to ignore the tension between the blonde and the dyed redhead as it was so thick in the air between them that Simon could probably cut it with his katana if so desired.

It was one of the only times where Mary lowkey regretted being Klavier's carpool ride to anywhere. Because they had decided to go together, because it was her car, and because it made no sense to try and pawn him off to somebody else, the only likely end result was them sitting in silence for hours on end until they got home.

A deep sigh left her as she rummaged around her bag to fetch her keys, holding them out to Klavier.

"Do you mind driving us back? It's getting late.."

She decided to not add her thought that her confession stunt had also resulted into the beginning of a tension headache.

He just nodded, holding his hand out for her to drop the car keys in. She gave them to him without any hesitation, waited for him to unlock the doors and slid into the passenger seat. Since he was taller than her, he had to make some adjustments to the seat and rear view mirror, before buckling in himself and starting the car to drive off.

And the first hour or so of the car ride was indeed awkward in its silence, with Mary looking outside the window and Klavier keeping his eyes on the road. The only thing that was making any kind of noise was the car radio, which was on a low volume.

He had to suddenly break rather roughly when a car in front of them pulled an absolute crazy stunt; his arm instinctively reaching out and crossing over his passenger chest in a protective matter. There was no other intent behind it as he quickly withdrew that arm to hit the car horn, while the VW in front of them took off.

"I swear, some people have got to be bribing the DMV's for their licenses or something. What the actual hell was that? ... Are you okay?"

"Y-Yeah.." Mary brought out shakily, and she herself couldn't tell if it was only from the shock of the sudden braking or that his natural instinct to try and protect her brought back that same whirlwind of emotions she had felt earlier today.

Klavier tapped on the steering wheel for a moment, thinking about what to do as the navigation system informed him that the route he wanted to take was coming to a crawl.

"I don't particularly feel like getting stuck in traffic for hours on end, mind if we take a scenic route instead?"

"Just.. get us home safely," Mary said softly, clearly not blaming him for what happened but just wanting to go home.

It was somewhere down this scenic detour that both their stomachs started to protest, that's kind of what happens when your last meal was a singular sandwich for lunch hours ago, so they both agreed to pull into a drive through and stay in the parking lot there.

After getting their food and drinks and finding a nice parking spot, Mary rolled down the window on her side for some fresh air and unfastened her seatbelt, before eating and drinking something. This silence was driving her up the wall, she had to say something.

"I'm sorry."

Klavier turned a little to look at her, surprise clearly written on his face.

"For what?"

"You know exactly for what."

Klavier thought for a moment, watching her as she quietly sipped from the soda she ordered. He wasn't entirely sure if this was an invitation to talk about what she had said at the park, but surely it would be best for the both of them to talk this out.

"Not exactly, but, I remember enough from when we used to-"

"Please, don't-" Mary started, flinching a little. Oh, this was a conversation she didn't want to have, though realized she had to at some point if she wanted this awkward tension between them to go away. But, fuck, that meant admitting again to certain feelings that could absolutely destroy the friendship they currently had.

Pressing her head back on the chair, she let out a sigh, then turned to look at him, and just lowkey gestured for him to continue what he wanted to say.

 "... I remember enough to know what "jag älskar dig" means, at least," he said, turning away slightly as the heat returned to his face.

"Mh. Now just add "still" to the translation and you'll have the full sentence," Mary sighed, "And I'm sorry. Like I said, it's just not fair of me to throw that in the mix when you're still trying to put your life back together. You don't need the added stress of placating my emotions-"

"Mary-"

"I just don't want to lose what we already have, Klavier. This friendship we have- I don't want to risk that. I don't want a repeat of last time."

They both fell quiet, listening to the sounds outside of the car. Other cars passing by on the road a little bit further, the soft chirp of a songbird in a tree before it flew off. The sky was slowly being painted with hues of orange as the sun was slowly starting to set.

"... Do you... regret last time?" Klavier eventually asked, trying to gauge exactly where they were standing right now, while also trying to be mindful of her feelings- regardless if she said she didn't want him to. Just because his life had been ripped to shreds didn't justify being mean to her about feeling some kind of way.

And, well..

"Just the breaking up part, I guess," Mary answered in a non-committed tone, trying to lessen the blow for herself.

"... Not even at first, either. We were both so busy, you doubly so with your prosecutor career and the band taking off- and the workload for me just never slowed down either. When I got home I would just crash into my bed and sleep, only to wake up and repeat the whole process again. I... I don't know about you, but I was so busy I barely had time to really let that break up sink in. Plus, you were still..." her voice trailed off for a moment before she realised he was still listening to her. Where was she going with this? At least none of their friends were here to listen in on this, that was the one silver lining to them having gone by her car together.

This airing out probably never would’ve happened, otherwise.

"... I think I just never had the chance to actually miss you until you took that sabbatical- don't take that as me being upset about it, please, you needed the time off. But, like, you were always.. there.

In some way, shape or form; even on tours you still made time to check in on me. But to have you drop from the courthouse so abruptly, to very suddenly be presented with empty hallways and having to deal with a lot of general daily nonsense without you there to lift my spirits back up..... I just really missed you."

She sighed the last part, turning to look back out of the window as she couldn't remember the last time she had been so open about a deep, vulnerable thing, even with Klavier. Sure, he knew a lot about her, but she was willing to bet that it had been years since she had actually let him in on a much deeper issue than just her daily grind and the frustrations that came from that.

Klavier had just been listening, quietly trying to ignore the tugs on his heartstrings as she talked about him. The fact that she had missed him, and that she clearly wanted him around in her life, well, it absolutely affected him.

"I missed you, too," he admitted quietly, "And I appreciate that you didn't let me shove you aside like I did with most of our friends and acquaintances. When you showed up at my door with such determination to stay and help me... I needed that more than you can even begin to imagine. Thank you."

"That's what friends are supposed to do."

"… just friends, huh?"

Mary flinched again, though the slight disappointment in his voice took her a little off guard. What were they supposed to do? It felt like she had gotten herself stuck at a Y-split in the road, where she either confessed to what she actually wanted and risk getting rejected, or just finally bite her tongue and keep the status quo.

She took another long sip from her soda, it now having gotten to the point where doing so makes sound as the liquid is mostly at the bottom.

Klavier wasn't doing much better. Normally, he didn't have to think twice about what to say in a situation like this to make the best out of it. But with Mary, it was different; not only because his regular charm never really seemed to work on her. Of course it wouldn’t, because that was not how her attraction worked. But aside from that he shared her fear of ruining one of the, if not the best and closest friendship he currently had.

He just looked at her, watching the light through the car window illuminate her frame; the light catching her hair and making her fire ombre stand out even more to the point where it almost seemed to actually be ablaze, her green eyes focused on the last few bites of her burger.

She was beautiful to him, in both the literal sense and in the way she came through for him, how she had his back, how she trusted him in both getting her home safely and to open up to him about her deepest feelings. She was such a private person, normally. Had he really not realised that before, that being privy to see beneath her surface like this was a luxury she didn't bestow upon many?

… Why had they broken up? Just because their schedules didn't align? They seemed to have figured that out now, where both took the time to adjust and see each other anyway. Had the solution to their problem really been that simple? Had all of it really just been bad timing?

He sighed, leaning back in the driver's seat.

"....... Mary?"

"Hm?"

"If you- if you meant what you said, at the park, if that's truly how you feel-"

Oh, god. She braced herself for impact, still worried that in telling him she still loved him she had jeopardized their whole friendship. Worry seemed to overtake her mind as her reason desperately tried to argue that Klavier wouldn't hurt her feelings on purpose, or be mad at her.

"I'd love it if we- I mean… Do you think we... could give it another try?"

... Wait a minute, what?

 She looked at him, but he was very deliberately looking away from her as he didn't want her to see how even his tanned complexion was no match for the sudden fierce heat in his cheeks. That absolutely did not came out as smoothly or suave as he had intended.

Mary just blinked, her mind blanking as that single sentence had completely shut down her anxious thought process. He... wanted her back? He wanted to give it another try?

Their eyes met for a moment but both quickly looked away as the embarrassment and tension started to rise. Mary could feel her heart pound against her ribs, the static in her head almost becoming too loud to bear.

He literally offered to give it another try, so, did that mean...

Something incredibly impulsive seemed to take over the reign of her functions as she turned towards him, grabbing hold of his shirt and pulled him closer. She closed the gap between them, kissing him with crystal clear intent and feelings behind it. Her heated mind snapped out of it for a second, and she quickly broke the kiss and let go of him.

"I'm sorry, I-"

He placed his hand in the curve of her neck, gently pulling her back to plant their lips back together, his intent just as clear in reply to hers. It felt so familiar, safe, and so different all at once. The latter probably because their previous kisses had never been fueled by the build of tension and the deep yearning they had both been going through.

It was him who broke the kiss that time, and only because they both desperately needed air; their foreheads still resting together.

“Ich liebe dich, auch.”

 A breathless laugh escaped her as a realization suddenly popped in her mind.

"..... You know, we never could've done this in that park, anyway," she said, "Someone would've taken some photo or video, and then the tabloids would've had a field day with you."

Klavier just huffed in amusement, lightly kissing her forehead.

"I don't care. I just don't want them coming after you, if it can be helped."

At that point they decided it was probably best to actually go home, before someone came out to shoo them off the property for loitering. After tossing their garbage and buckling back up in the car, Klavier drove off. It almost seemed like the radio was aware of what had happened, as it insisted on playing romantic songs until they got close to Klavier's apartment. It would just take a few more turns before he was home, and they had to switch places so Mary could make the final drive to her home.

"... Hey, uhm," she started, feeling more nervous about the request than she normally would, "do you.. want to come over to my place? I... I don't know, we could just relax, watch a movie, or something, I just- I really don't want to be alone, so, can you.. keep me company?"

Maybe to others that would sound like an invitation to more, but he knew that taking the bold initiative on their kiss was more than enough excitement for her this evening. He respected that completely, there’d be plenty of time for them to discuss both their comfort levels and boundaries, and he knew she would respect his in return. Plus, it sounded like a lovely evening in and would be way better than being alone in his apartment for the umpteenth time in his life. He thought for a moment to remember what she actually preferred to be called as a term of endearment, and a small smug smirk showed up on his face when it popped back in his mind.

"Of course, älskling."

He could see from his peripheral that being called that again turned her face a lovely shade of red. He just turned the car down the road away from his home, going to her place instead. From there it didn't take both of them long to get inside, cuddle up on the couch together, and watch movies.

Grayson the robin had settled on Klavier's shoulder, nuzzled into his neck and had promptly fallen asleep- and it seemed like his owner wasn't far behind. Mary's head was resting on his chest on the opposite side of where her bird sat, and her eyes fell more and more shut as he softly ran his fingers through the tresses of her hair.

"Get some rest," he whispered softly and in a melodious hum to try and relax her even more, “I’ll still be with you in the morning, I promise.”

Although she protested softly, the warmth that radiated off him and the calm, steady beat of his heart proved far too powerful in this fight against her sleepiness; eventually her eyes fell shut and her breathing slowed down a little as she drifted off to sleep.

He just kept softly playing with her hair, the feeling as calming for him as the warmth of the featherball in his neck. He looked back at the tv.

It was nice, to have this again.