#Just to fit the time period and setting…

[skvaderarts]

After several delays (sorry, everyone) chapter one of Various Storms and Saints is done!

AKA the "Jayce accidentally ends up in a good timeline where he and Viktor are together" fic I said I would write.

Summary: Word count 4.7k

After meeting Wizard Viktor and the bad timeline, Jayce takes up the grim task of heading back to his own timeline and setting things right the only way he knows how. But along the way, something goes awry and he ends up in an alternate version of Piltover and Zaun where things appear to have gone very differently, especially between him and Viktor. But after experiencing firsthand the life that could have been between him and Viktor, will he be able to go back and fulfill his promise? After knowing the love that could still be there can he bring himself to destroy it forever?

(If there is smut later, it will be in stand-alone skippable chapters in case that's not your thing. Tags will be periodically updated to reflect the plot.)

A03 Link

Chapter 1: St. Jude

Notes: Hi, everyone! Thanks for checking this out! I hope you enjoy it!

—

“St Jude, the patron saint of the lost causes.

St Jude, we were lost before she started.

St Jude, we lay in bed as she whipped around us.

St Jude, maybe I've always been more comfortable in chaos.”

—

In truth, he’d started to think he’d go mad down there.

The top of the Hexgate loomed over the wasteland that had once been Piltover and Zaun like a lighthouse in a storm, as tantalizing as food to the starving; like a distant thunderstorm in the scorching heat. He had simply known that he needed to scale it. To stand at its zenith and behold the ruined world below him. 

A world ruined by Hextech. By his dream. The culmination of their dream.

The culmination of his obsession and love for magic and his desire to better the world with it. The end of their shared brilliance and friendship. The fallible flame of Prometheus passed to him by the man cloaked in frozen, biting winds that had burned him nonetheless.

He’d been as compelled to climb up there as he had been to escape that forsaken cave. That pit where every ounce of despair held deep within him had manifested. That interminable oubliette composed entirely from his nightmares and the hell of his physical reality. As inescapable as the truth.

He’d crawled from the lowest pits of the Undercity to the very tallest structure to ever stand in the clouds of Piltover, a metaphorical journey that he wasn’t the first to make. But it had given him a sense of understanding he’d only once thought he possessed and a clarity only bitter suffering could provide. 

They’d both been through so much. And it had created this.

How fitting that it should mark the spot of their shared grave. The Hexgate. A monument to what they could achieve together standing as the last bastion in a dead world. The only life left within it sequestered atop its one gleaming crest. Everything else scurried below, barely alive anymore. Mutated beyond recognition. Nothing untouched by the corruption of the Arcane. 

They were both still living in a way, but equality dead all the same. One motionless in solitude, the other rooted to the spot, physically able to leave but unwilling to, trapped in their perpetual state of mourning A terminus of boundless misery, both forever alone despite being so close that the flowers that adorned one had started to spread across the clothing worn by the other as they remained by their side.

How did it come to this? It was unfathomable.

But as he stood there and took in the words that this version of Viktor had told him, he knew it to be the truth. He could not run from it even if he’d had the will to. He’d delivered the weight of Atlas to his shoulders so gently, so knowingly, and yet with such haunting regret. With such a look of profound knowing in his time-worn eyes.

He’d always known Viktor. He just hadn’t known it until that moment. From the first spark of magic to the birth of Hextech. The man who had saved the lives of his mother and himself. He’d once told Viktor he knew that he had no idea how beautiful magic was when he’d been the very one to bestow it upon him. Oh, how little they’d both know at the time. How small the universe had been despite how open they were to all it had to offer.

“We lost ourselves. Lost our dream. In the pursuit of great, we failed to do good. We have to make it right.”

Viktor’s words that day scraped across his frontal lobe like a razor's edge. He was right. He’d been right all along, in fact. He’d said then that the Hexcore needed to be destroyed. Once upon a time, so had their mentor. It was clearer now than ever that for the sake of everyone and everything there was only one course of action to take. One path to walk that only he could tread.

But how could he bear that weight? How could he pick up that hammer? Knowing what he was destined to do with it. When the time came would his conviction alone be enough to make him go through with it? He had never been more sure and uncertain about anything. Sure in the steadfast nature of his promise and uncertain as to whether or not that would be enough. If his will alone would be enough.

Even knowing this he took a breath and looked the man who had saved him as a child in the eye. Perhaps not even a man now. More of a divine being of such terrible power that he knew not what to call him. Not what to make of him. But regardless, as he kneeled there, his resolve strengthened even as pained reality set in. This was the only way. In his heart, he knew it to be the only truth available to him.

“Send me back.”

A hand once obscured by the fabric of the older mage’s robe lowered itself to the skeletal structure that kneeled before it, barely grazing the surface that was as much petal and moss now as it was metal, the cosmos eternally entangled with it. The silence from it was absolute all but for the brief movement of its vacant eyes. His own looking back at him for a place beyond his comprehension. What remained of himself uncurled its fingers, some of them breaking apart at the tips and remaining on the handle. There was no blood. It had been subsumed long ago. But the handle was as much a part of it as the warped base of the hammer it clutched was the structure they stood upon. A limb more than a weapon.

Jayce was as entranced as he was utterly disquieted, the fleeting thought of what it must be like to be this version of himself fluttering through his subconscious for all but a moment before he leaned forward and gripped the handle. Resolute, he met the eyes of this version of Viktor one last time before readying himself.

For all their sakes, he could never find out.

“I won’t fail.”

He felt the band he'd worn upon his wrist for what felt like a lifetime change, disappearing in a flash of light. The rune that had started all of this embedded itself into his very flesh and marked it with the permeance of a brand. A vow. Prof of the unshakable commitment he now carried by his own volition. 

He'd escaped the very depths of hell crawling on a broken leg, and yet he knew with unyielding certainty that this would be the hardest thing that he would ever do.

He had to stop Viktor. And every aching fiber of his broken being knew what that meant. 

And he hated it. Like nothing he'd ever felt before. So much that it frightened him.

It seethed within him like rolling magma from the depths of Tartarus, ready to erupt and disfigure the bedrock itself. To tear the earth asunder beneath him. Not a hate towards him but a hate for him. On his behalf. For everything that he meant and had become. Because of them both. Because of him. For everything he meant and had always meant to Jayce and the brilliance that would be snuffed out when he watched the light leave his eyes. For everything that he'd done to him even though he'd never meant to hurt him. Every wound he'd inflicted had been out of nothing but love. And that was why it was so corrosive; so volatile. 

The worst thing a person could do to someone was love them the way he loved Viktor. 

And yet, even knowing that, even as that truth gripped him, some part of him that he despised knew he'd still do it again because he couldn't do nothing when the life of someone he cared about was at stake. That was his foil. The chink in his armor. He saw that now. If only he’d seen it before it had led him down this path. The path, it seemed, that he was always destined to follow.

He would be saved as a child. He would meet Viktor. And they would destroy the world together.

The depths of such betrayal. It wouldn’t be the first time he'd betrayed someone he loved, but it would be the first time he did it on purpose. With the explicit purpose of harming them. That just wasn’t who he was. It went against every atom of his being; against his unfalteringly loyal spirit. 

He couldn't hate Viktor for what he’d become. He didn’t want to. But he could hate himself for what he’d done to him. What he was about to do to him. Later. 

“I swear it.”

The anomaly reappeared and engulfed them. A fleshy, almost tendon-like conglomeration of round inorganic shapes with little rhyme or reason to them. Visually little more than a mass of shifting rainbow hews and refracting circular portholes punctuated only by its webbed internal structure. Its surface structured and rigid despite its ever-rippling nature. It warped and sputtered, swelling and expanding before contracting and shrinking in pulses and variable waves. It seemed unstable to Jayce, but it was impossible to tell. The amalgamation was as unknowable to him as the depths of the ocean. He would not question how it worked. He knew its purpose. It would send him back.

And then he would set about his grim task.

Jayce shared one final parting glance with the older version of the man he’d once called his closest friend before he felt himself pulled backward, tumbling through the depths of the Arcane. It was a blinding and disorienting experience, channels of light to either side of him rippling through dark, cool hues punctuated by the occasional reds and golds as runic symbols blazed past him at light speed. What appeared to be the night sky loomed over him, stars sparkling in distant, vacant galaxies in the far-off cosmos he was sent along the path that had been purpose-carved explicitly for him. It was beautiful in a frightening way.

Gripping the handle of the Mercury Hammer tightly, he felt himself speed up, approaching velocities that he dared not consider. The implications of how hard his upcoming landing would be would start to eat away at his already raw nerves. He didn’t need that.

His head cascaded through memories and fractured visions, threatening to tear his mind apart. He presumed that he was nearly there. He would hold together for as long as it took. He would finish the job and then his mind could unravel. Perhaps that would spare him some of the inevitable guilt. Some merciful madness to provide him with a thoughtless reprieve.

But as he approached the end of the path, a thought occurred to him. The Arcane. He’d touched it back at the base of the Hexgate and it had felt strange. Alien. Unpleasant. But this was another facet of it. More focused and less untamed. It looked like he could reach out and touch it, skim over its surface just like a hand skimming through silent waters. He’d wanted to do as much during his childhood in the moment that he’d been whisked away to safety. Perhaps a bit of harmless indulgence amidst the madness of it all?

Cautiously, he reached out his hand, extending just his middle, ring, and index fingers. That would be all he needed to-.

He saw his body go one way as he went the other as if he had been snatched from it. It passed him as he lingered behind, time almost seeming to stand still as his mind failed to process the level of horror that he should be experiencing upon seeing something of that nature. And then he was yanked sideways, wrenched through the walls of the Arcane itself.

A fractal, almost psychedelic series of refracting reflections of his own body and mind encircling him and then spreading out in long waves, sending his body through a void of bright white light. He saw the back of himself, row after row repeating the same motions in a slightly delayed sequence as he closed his eyes, only to find that doing so did nothing to stop him from seeing. He felt his heart leap in his chest, his blood pounding as he tried to steady himself.

Curse his foolish curiosity. If he’d only kept his hands to himself…

Suddenly, he felt his body drop. Slamming downward as everything around him went completely white save for the infinite rows of rainbow light that encircled the black, bottomless cosmic hole that he now found himself plummeting into. He opened his mouth to cry out in fear but found that little more than a frightened yelp escaped his parted lips as he plunged into the depths. Jayce closed his eyes, unwilling to look. If this was to be his end then he didn’t want to see what would take him from existence.

Jayce felt his knees buckle and slam downward as his hands caught him and he came to a sudden, bone-crunching stop. He gritted his teeth from sheer instinct, waiting with dread for the inevitable pain that would make its unwelcome appearance in his left leg. But as he opened his eyes he was met with confusion as nothing happened, the only discomfort coming from his palms making contact with the ground beneath him, and even that was nominal at best. His knees tingled a bit, but hardly in a way that he’d consider painful. Slowly his eyes began to adjust.

Light flooded through the trees around him. The smell of crisp waterside air and the gentle flutter of the wings of birds as they soared from the treetops overhead, startled by his sudden stop. The feeling of a comfortingly cool breeze grasping at the fabric that he wore, ghosting over his skin with all the gentleness of a kiss. The sun shone overhead in a bright blue sky barely touched by the paltry smattering of clouds that dared try to impede the light from above, warm but not stifling as leaves blew past him on the paved path that he occupied. 

He was looking down at the pavement. There was pavement.

Startled, he scrambled backward onto his feet, instantly thrown off by how unburdened his movement was. He ran a hand over his visibly shocked face, shaking his head back and forth a few times as his palm made contact with the top of his head. There was no hair to brush out of his eyes. It was shorter. He had no beard. No stubble, even.

He looked down and, to his further confusion, he wore something completely different than what he’d just had on. Gone were the muddied and soiled whites and golds that he’d once worn and in their stead was a much more approachable set of clothing. He wore dark pants with a vest and a long-sleeved shirt underneath, the sleeves neatly rolled up to just over the elbow. The garments were complimenting shades of dark blue and that shade of Talis red that he was oh so accustomed to. Familiar but something he was almost certain he couldn’t remember ever wearing before. And yet, something he felt like he would’ve picked out in another lifetime. Certainly inoffensive to his personal tastes.

Taking a second to orient himself, he concluded that he was in a park or plaza of some sort. It had recently established trees. There were benches and what seemed to be a fountain of some sort a short distance away. Nothing noteworthy but it still felt that way.

The place was alive. So unlike what the place he’d just left had been like.

“Excuse me. Sir? You dropped these.”

Jayce turned in alarm towards the individual who had just approached him. An enforcer carrying what appeared to be a clipboard with several documents on it. There was a cover sheet covering the stack bearing a house single that looked reminiscent of his own, only with two hammers instead of the single one he was accustomed to. Everything else was the same from the style to the colors, aside from that notable difference. Odd.

The enforcer handed over the documents, stopping to adjust his uniform. It had probably shifted when he’d reached over to pick up the documents off of the ground.

“T-thank you.” It took Jayce a moment to speak, his mouth and mind not quite in alignment just yet. He wasn’t sure why that had been so hard. What about it had felt so foreign to him? Perhaps spending an extended period in a realm nearly devoid of conversation partners had made him accustomed to other people just existing around him? There hadn’t been anyone to talk to down in that hole except for himself and the vaguely amphibious creatures he’d been feasting on. It was a humbling thought, one that made him uneasy. “Sorry for the trouble.”

The enforcer nodded cooperatively, seemingly taking notice of how off-kilter Jayce seemed. There was just something a bit off about him. Oh, if the man only knew. And yet, he seemed familiar. Like Jayce had seen him before…

It hit him like a bolt from the blue. He looked like that sheriff who had died on the bridge during that attack a while back, only slightly younger. Less hardened. What had his name been? Something with an M. Ah, that was right. Marcus. The same man who’d brought him the documents he’d requested during his second day as a Counselor. The day that they’d gone to check on the Hexgates.

Wait.

Oh no. He’d gone off course. Surely. It should have been obvious at first glance and yet… Was he in the past? Was this another timeline? He needed to find out. Fast.

“Hey, can I ask you a question?” It was so strange, speaking to a man he knew to be dead. Or who would die? He didn’t have the foggiest idea just yet, but still. He hadn’t known him but he still felt a small pang of sadness remembering the sight of him laying there when he’d visited the bridge that day with Mel. It almost made him feel queasy again.

“Of course. How can I help?”

“I… “ He flipped through the documentation on the clipboard, looking for something to go off of. A starting place for his investigations. And then he found it: a set of addresses. One was listed as a professional address, a tempting lead to be sure, but the other caught his eye. It was a home address. Apparently, his personal address since it was listed under his house name. But it was not the one he was familiar with. “Could you point me in the right direction?”

Marcus leaned over to read the address and then eyed him questioningly, seemingly wondering something but not saying it. “That’s just a few blocks short of a mile from here. Across the bridge in Central Zaun. Near The Last Drop. Go straight. You won’t miss it.”

The notion that the address was not in Piltover didn’t surprise him. He’d never seen a street by that name there. But Zaun? Was that what the Undercity was called in this universe? Had something disastrous happened in his personal life to cause him to have to move there? Maybe he hadn’t gone back in time, then. This might be more complicated than he’d first imagined. Fantastic.

He thanked Markus and bid him farewell. At least now he had a lead to work with. To Zaun, then. He’d been to the center of the Undercity before. It felt like a lifetime ago now, but he was certain that he could find his way down to the bottom again.

Making his way through town, Jayce couldn’t hope but notice that things felt different. Everything felt brighter; warmer and more optimistic. There were balloons on the street poles and banners over roads. Street service workers were in the process of replacing the standard lights with colored ones and an electric sense of optimism and excitement seemed to flow from everyone he passed. They were all looking forward to something, that much was clear.

And then he reached the bridge.

The structure that once served as a point of separation between the two cities gleamed under the bright sky, bustling with activity and purpose. Children played and vendors showcased different products and purchasable, perishable, or otherwise. People talked and laughed together from all walks of life. There were no blockades. Only traces of where they’d once been. Everything was clean and well-kept. People were enjoying themselves in an environment devoid of tension.

It all felt like a surreal fever dream. A beautiful one.

In truth, it stole his breath away.

He’d always hoped that Hextech could pave the way to a better tomorrow for them all, but to see the Undercity flourishing, even at just the surface level? This place was everything he’d ever hoped it could be. Everything that they’d championed for, especially Viktor. So tirelessly, even at the expense of his own well-being. To see the home that his partner had hailed from brimming with hope and beauty seized him in a way that he struggled to shake as he moved through the streets toward his destination. He wished he could show Viktor this version of his home. He wished he’d had the chance to grow up in this version of his home. No polluted water and acidic air, no downtrodden infrastructure or blackened skies heavy with soot and brimstone from the factories and mines. Just fresh air, daylight, and opportunity around every corner. What they’d all disserved from the very start. What they’d been deprived of by the simple virtue of being born on the wrong side of the bridge.

Genuine tangible irrefutable progress. He wanted this for his Piltover. For their Piltover.

He hurried along, checking the addresses as he passed by what was undeniably the center of town. Past The Last Drop and down its open, winding roads that had once been so narrow and stifling. Down to a quiet but still active zone filled with a mixture of residences and small shops. Colorful, bright, and full of greenery, something unfamiliar to him in this place save for the smog. He rounded a corner and then stopped, suddenly hit by the realization that something just felt off all of a sudden.

It started as simple blurred vision, Jayce shaking his head as he ducked further back away from the street. But then his head shuttered and his legs nearly buckled, his chest heaving as he used one hand to steady himself against the brick wall of one of the shops and the other to grip his throbbing head. He saw colors and shapes in flashes too fast and aggressively to make out clearly. And then he felt his stomach knot and churn before he found himself on his knees for the second time since he’d arrived, emptying the contents of his stomach into a nearby bush.

Panting as the clarity returned to his watering eyes and the breath in his lungs was restored, he stood shakily, steadying himself. He wasn’t a fan of whatever that had been. But it was over. He would continue.

Stepping back out onto the main path he did a double take. He’d found the address. In his stupor, he’d nearly walked right past it.

It didn’t stand out from the other buildings it was attached to, a little two-story thing with a raised stoop that made it apparent that it had a basement with a window well. At the top of the eves was a round window that hinted at the possibility of an attic, but it was hard to be sure from the exterior. The roof was a tarnished copper like many of the others on the road, but in a way that was ornamental instead of the result of a lack of upkeep. The verdigris contrasted the rest of the structure in a way that almost seemed deliberate, with red brick and metal ornamentation that almost reminded him of what one would expect in the more common districts of Piltover but with a slightly different flare. It was… Nice. Easily one of the coziest-looking buildings on the lane. Strange. It even felt like home.

Jayce wasn’t sure what he’d expected to find when he’d imagined where he’d choose to live in the Undercity, but this was a far cry better than what he’d had in mind. Nothing opulent, but to be fair, that had never been the case for any place he’d lived aside from the Kiramman Penthouse during his studies. He dug through his waistcoat pocket and produced a set of keys as he approached the door. There were a few on the ring, in fact. Something else to look into later. If he was there that long.

It took a few keys before he found the right one, but eventually, the door opened and he stepped across the threshold, immediately hit by the comforting warmth of the space. If the outside had been quaint and cozy, then the inside was nothing short of welcoming. Instantly, it felt like a place he’d like to stay in. An archway made in the same art nouveau style with just a sprinkle of art deco that the rest of the building’s exterior had been crafted in opened up into what seemed to be a living area of some sort. Just ahead of him was a staircase leading to the upper level. 

Even with the curtains partially drawn across the back window, he could see the wealth of plants in the back conservatory off to the side of the back of the building, accessible via the hallway that ran down past the staircase. An interesting choice. He’d never been the best at keeping those alive despite his best attempts. Perhaps they were specimens for some sort of study.

But as he considered this the same pain he’d felt in his skull returned from nowhere, only with no warning or build-up and with the vengeful spite of a curse set upon him by a wrathful god. He bumped into the wall as he dropped the papers he still carried onto a side table, nearly stumbling over it in the process as he reeled back and used both hands to clutch his aching head, digging his fingers into his scalp as though gouging through his flesh and excavating all the gray matter from his body was the only recourse from which he could hope to derive release.

Gasping soundlessly save for the sound of air parting ways with his lungs, he grounded himself as he clenched his eyes shut. It would pass. It had to. His worst moments always did for they were merely that: moments. He groaned shakily, panting like a shaking animal as his ears wrang, seeing only the flashes of color and fractal nonsense that were the hallmarks of the Arcane anomaly. He could feel his heartbeat in his ears and head as the ceaseless agony slowly subsided, pushing and pulling in tormenting waves until it became vaguely bearable again, coherence no longer simply a product of wishful yearning.

He didn’t hear the handle turn; he didn’t register the door swing open or the silence as it returned to the room. Jayce didn’t feel the presence of another person in the room with him whatsoever, so overtaken was he by the ordeal he’d just experienced. His ears felt like they’d never be useful again. And then he heard a voice. As clear as crystal. Like a chime ringing out in the utterly consuming darkness. He didn’t currently possess the faculties necessary to discern the topic of conversation, but he knew that voice anywhere.

Viktor.

(-~-)

After SEVERAL delays (sorry, everyone) chapter one is FINALLY out and I am over the moon. Seriously, I have so much that I want to do with this AU and so many little stories that I want to tell within it, so bear with me. Sometimes my brain just doesn't cooperate with my writing schedule, but the excitement is there, I promise. I want to know what you guys think! It’s been so long since I’ve started something like this. Was the writing okay?

I have a one-shot to write and then I’m going to start chapter two immediately so the plan is to get it out within the next day or two, if not sooner. Fingers crossed. Thanks again for checking this out! If you want to hear more I have info for the AU on my Bluesky and my Tumblr and they are both linked in my bio. I can provide links if you’d like them. Just let me know. I’d really like to know what you think of this so far. Do you want this to go in a more spicy direction in the future? Is that a no-go for you? I’m itching to hear your feedback. And I hope to see you in chapter 2. Take care and I’ll see you soon. Bye!

[rifle-yes]

normally I love getting emails from students telling me my class helped or came up in their life in some way - but the number of emails I've gotten from students over the years telling me they used the evac shopping list or the bug out bags we made in my geo hazards class is pretty horrific and the reason I'm going to gently poke you all and ask you:

how much drinkable water do you have on hand if your water stops working? (aim for 3 gallons per person per day)

do you have a physical copy of a map with at least two evacuation routes should internet or your phones not work?

how much food do you have that is non-perishable and easy to travel with and are the expiration dates still good? (2k calories per person per day)

do you have at least two flashlights with fresh batteries and replacement batteries?

do you have a pair of more rugged clothes you can easily grab that you know will fit you and be weather appropriate for the season?

do you have a carrier(s) that fits (all) your pet(s) comfortably for long periods of time?

do you have a bag set aside with a dental hygiene and standard hygiene items you could easily grab?

is your first aid kid freshly stocked with more than just bandaids and checked for expired items? are your prescription meds easy to get to and add to this if needed? do you have pain killers, tummy trouble pills, antihistamines, splints, ACE bandages, medical tape, & alcohol wipes (these are my most used items in the field)

where are your important papers (passports, insurance papers, proof of ownership, birth certificates, important photos, etc) and are they ready to travel if need be?

if you're in an area with cold temps do you have thermal blankets or normal ones?

do you have toilet paper and menstrual items? because restroom restocking/cleaning is not a priority for most places in a disaster situation and sometimes you don't even get the luxury of having a restroom.

do you have a back up power bank?

weird items you might not have in your go bag but might want to consider:

PPE eye covers like lab goggles or even swimmers goggles if you're in fire zone - it can help prevent eye irritation in smokey areas

DUCT TAPE. DUCT TAPE. DUCT TAPE. ADD IT TO YOUR BAG NOW.

disposable face masks - don't breathe in smoke

silverware/utensils - you can eat food right from a can but silverware takes up minimal space

headlamps like hikers/bikers/ya girl uses - SUPER USEFUL and it keeps your hands free

a whistle

solar power stations (I have a Jackery brand solar power station for the field and this thing is a work horse - 10/10 do recommend)

chemical cold packs/hot packs

pocket knife

cash (apple pay and cards aren't always accepted in emergencies)

barter items (cash isn't always accepted or useful in emergencies) like tiny airplane bottles of booze, big bottles of booze, cigarette packs, extra medical supplies, batteries, duct tape, toilet paper)

pashminas/scarves/shemagh - useful in more than one way

& a question people sometimes forget: can you easily lift and carry the bag that contains these items? a 75lb/45kg bag of gear will do you no good if you can't pick it up and take it with you in an emergency.

[humbledragon669]

S2E3 - I Know Where I'm Going Write Up P2 - Edinburgh (1827)

I have a sneaky feeling that this might be a short one - if I try and do the first Edinburgh section as well as the next “present day” section, this is probably going to come out way too long, but let’s see.

There’s something missing for this introductory Edinburgh scene - have you noticed? This is the first time we’re introduced to a new time period without a banner on the screen to announce when and where the action is set. We do of course have Aziraphale’s voiceover to provide us with that information, so it’s not like there’s any confusion caused by the lack of a banner, I just find the absence of one interesting, particularly if you consider that the opening for the scene from 1862, likely the next time they meet after 1827 (not counting the alleged meeting Crowley calls in 1859 according to the Script Book), also differed from its flashback counterparts in Hard Times (it was the only banner to be incorporated into the scene - appearing below the surface of the water in St. James Park).

Moving on to this delightfully teenage-girl side of Aziraphale that we get to see with him writing in his diary. First thing’s first - the voiceover tells us this is volume 603 of his diaries. My first thoughts about this were along the lines of “where the hell are the other 602 and what do they contain” and “how many more were there after this one”, but the significance of the specific number used here is likely to be much simpler, and a Good Omens favourite - Strong’s Concordance. According to my research, the number 603 in the Greek version of the Concordance translates to “eager expectation, earnest longing”, which seems very fitting for a chronicle of Aziraphale’s adventures with Crowley. But wait! There’s more…

So Aziraphale is writing in his diary about the journey to Edinburgh on the 10th November (he goes on to add the year as 1827 but you can’t make out the beginning of the date very well once it’s been added). I found myself wondering if there was anything special about this date, and honestly what I found blew my mind a little bit. I cannot believe that this is a coincidence, and once more my hat is well and truly tipped to whoever discovered this gem and found a way to work it in. Because on the 10th November 1827, there was an article published in The Lancet about the lack of available anatomical subjects to work on for medical research. The article even references the high prices paid by “the resurrection men”. Don’t believe me? Here’s the link. Very sadly I could not attribute a name to the author, but I kind of don’t care. Fucking chapeau of the highest order for this little treat, honestly. As to the diary entry previous to this, I was unable to decipher it myself but I was able to figure out enough of it to Google some of the phrases. Turns out the content has already been confirmed to us by the author:

This sounds like a very exciting adventure for Aziraphale to have undertaken on his own! I love the insinuation that an attempt has been made to seduce him previously, which he rigorously objected to using a line that sounds similar in subtext to the one he utters upon Shadwell’s accusation that he’s running some sort of brothel in his book shop.

Whilst I appreciate the statue of Gabriel will be used later in the episode to provide a link between the past and present-day scenes in Edinburgh, I struggle to find any narrative purpose for it. In fact, I just end up with a long list of questions about its presence, for instance:

What is its purpose?

Why has it been built in this particular graveyard in this particular city?

Who built it?

Is Gabriel aware of its existence?

Assuming that Gabriel is aware of its existence, what is his interest in it? Did he commission it, or was it commissioned for him?

See what I mean? So many questions for an object that doesn’t really have any purpose whatsoever. I know we’ll hear Aziraphale refer to it later in the episode, but even then I don’t really see a reason for him to return to the statue when there are far bigger fish to fry in his Clue hunting. Perhaps its only real purpose is to find a reason for them being in the graveyard in the first place, though that feels pretty weak: building an entire statue as a prop for it to be used in less than 30 seconds of film just as a way to justify their existence in a particular place. There is one thing that it might be good for though:

What’s that look from Aziraphale when Crowley mentions the word “beauty” in a sentence about Gabriel? It looks a little like jealousy to me. Silly angel! I have no doubt that Crowley is just using words he believes Gabriel would associate with himself but I can understand how the angel might perceive it differently, especially given that both he and Crowley lack the ability to understand the other’s subtext when they’re not in immediate danger. I really don’t think he has anything to worry about.

I love how amused Crowley is that Elspeth shows such disgust towards Aziraphale’s clear Englishman status:

Here we have another opportunity for him to get really mischievous, and I’m not just talking about Crowley. Speaking as a fellow Celt (of the Welsh variety), I can genuinely say there’s something very satisfying about English people being shown disdain. I think it’s an ingrained, from-birth thing, because I’ve never really had to work on it, it just comes naturally. With that in mind, I’m sure David must have had a lot of fun indulging his Scottish nature in both accent and attitude towards the English. Which is all pretty ironic considering how public-school-boy Crowley sounds when he’s not speaking with a Scottish accent. I find it interesting that Crowley adopts the accent so early on in this scene - it’s immediately after he hears Elspeth speak. I suspect he does it because he understands that there’s a lot of bad blood directed towards the English from the Scottish natives, which demonstrates how much further on he is in his journey towards understanding human nature than Aziraphale is.

I also find it interesting that the angel makes no attempt to stop Crowley assisting Elspeth, instead trying to reason with her directly about the perceived “wrongness” of her actions. Presumably he knows that an argument with Crowley is doomed to failure, not least because he technically still has to file reports with Hell about his Earthly achievements. What’s also notable about Aziraphale’s attempts to stop Elspeth’s bodysnatching is that he shows absolutely no understanding of the trials that real-life people face.

ELSPETH: It’s not an easy job. If the Watch catch you, you’ll swing for it. AZIRAPHALE: Well it’s not the danger of what you’re doing. Don’t you know that it’s wrong?

Of the two reasons for not doing a spot of gravedigging, personally I’d prioritise getting caught and killed over and above it being “wrong”. Not so Aziraphale; he prioritises morals over life itself, which I suppose might come from his being immortal. And when you consider the lessons he learned in Uz shown to us in the previous episode, you might think he would have some understanding for extenuating circumstances when it comes to the lives of humans. However, there is an important difference between the actions he campaigns against here, and the ones from Uz, and that’s the originator of the actions. See, in Uz he rebelled against actions he perceived to be unjust and unfair taken by Heaven. Here he asserts the moral high ground against actions he judges to be morally wrong taken by a human. I will likely do a post specifically about the minisodes when I have completed the write ups for the three episodes containing them, but for now I’ll just say this. I think these minisodes, and perhaps the entire season (I have some more work to do there), are keyed towards showing us crucially important moments, specific to Aziraphale. Epiphany creating moments you might say. In Uz he learned that the actions of Heaven cannot be said to be Good simply because Heaven is the originator. He will come to learn in this episode that actions taken by humans cannot be categorically defined as either good or bad. In 1941… well, let’s do that one when we get there, and leave this topic for a separate blog specifically geared towards the subject, because I think I could wax lyrical about it quite a bit.

Anyway, back to the theme that things don’t have to be explicitly good or bad, but can in fact be both:

Beautifully put, and subtly done. Even this poor creature Morag can understand that you can be described as something bad whilst also having good intentions and a good nature, it’s really all about the context. Unfortunately Aziraphale will need to have the point made to him in all the more explicit terms later on in the episode before it sinks in with him, despite the fact that he specifically states he sides with Morag on her view of the situation. Some foreshadowing there perhaps.

Little side note, and this one because I haven’t mentioned anything about the sound in this part so far. If you listen beneath the dialogue in this scene, you can hear a woman coughing, pretty badly, in the background. This is another one of those little elements I so love about this show. That coughing has no relevance to the immediate narrative, most people won’t even hear it, but its presence reiterates how awful the living conditions are in the “piss-drenched patch” that Elspeth and Morag call home. The scene would be poorer without it, but you’d never know why - it’s so subtle, yet so effective. And knowing that someone out there, a sound editor and an actor at the very least, had to proactively do something for it to be included makes me feel very appreciative that we have such a committed cast and crew for this show.

Here we have an explicitly stated outline of Aziraphale’s (somewhat oversimplified, IMHO) view. To sum up:

Heaven = (unconditionally) Good.

Hell = (unconditionally) evil.

Humans = can only be considered Good if they actively choose not to be evil.

Note particularly that last point - his view doesn’t extend so far as to say that humans could be considered Good if they themselves chose to be good. No, there must be an active shunning of evil for them to fit the criteria. Pretty one sided, don’t you think? Though I’m sure none of us are surprised by this.  In applying this condition though, he has automatically applied the label of “wicked” to Elspeth, purely based on her choice to do something he considers to be wicked. I think Crowley’s facial expression speaks for us all in his reaction to this exclamation:

And his counter argument to Aziraphale is rather good, isn’t it? So much more biassed towards the nuances of humanity, showing us, yet again, how much further along in his journey towards his own humanity he is when compared to Aziraphale.

I’m so glad that Crowley tries to call this out with Aziraphale, because the idea that poor people have more opportunities because of their poverty is one of the most aristocratic and arrogant things I’ve ever heard. Honestly, I’m a little ashamed to hear those words come from the angel, but playing devil’s advocate (no pun intended) I can see how these views help us as an audience appreciate how much of a change this episode causes in him. And let’s just take a quick look at his use of the term “ineffable” here. To be clear, the definition of the word I refer comes from the Oxford dictionary:

What exactly about Aziraphale’s pompous ramblings would fit with this definition exactly? It’s my belief that he knows exactly how weak his argument is at this point, and his use of this word in particular is used simply as a way of bringing a close to the argument with the (false) assertion that he’s in the right. Sort of an “agree to disagree” statement with an extra pinch of righteousness.

And so we come to the end of this section. Told you it would be a short(er) one, didn’t I? In fairness, when I started out most of the sections were around this length, and there were less of them per episode, so either I’m getting better at this, or I’m getting more pedantic/more waffly. I’m sure it’s probably one of those latter, so I am incredibly grateful for those of you that actually take time out of your day to read my ramblings. Honestly, I don’t deserve you (though I hope that Lancet Easter egg has made this one worth your while!). As always, questions, comments, discussion, always welcome. See you for the next one!

[tiredandoptimistic]

Yeah, as much as I talk about wanting TST, it probably wouldn't have worked (which is most likely why CC scrapped it). More than anything else, I think the issue is that the Circle generation is a tragedy stretched over several decades, rather than an adventure/romance about teenagers.

There's about eight years between the Circle forming at the Academy and their downfall at the Uprising. I doubt that CC would set a series over that long a time period, and if she focused on any 1-2 year period, she would leave out a lot of what people love about the Circle. So many of the things we want to know more about are set years apart from each other, or don't come to fruition until the characters are adults. Luke and Jocelyn couldn't have much of a romance, because that happens in TMI, and we know for sure that Jocelyn was fully unaware of Luke's feelings until then. We've already been shown a lot of their big turning point moments ("The Last Stand of the New York Institute," "The Evil We Love"), so if anything was set during those periods, then the books would have to either repeat stuff we already know, or skip over these big important plot beats.

For example, an Academy era story could be set before The Evil We Love, but that would be before Valentine got particularly extreme, when it was still just a friend group. Plus, characters like Celine and Hodge would be too young to really participate. It could be set after that story, but then Michael and Robert would have graduated, and the story would be weirdly split. And anyways, why would we need full novels set during the Academy era? We already have a short story that gives a perfect snapshot of what things were like.

I definitely want more from the Circle generation. I want to know about Michael, Stephen, Amaris, Celine; all the characters whose stories we haven't really heard yet (also Robert and Maryse are two of my favorites and I need more of them even though they're in plenty of books already). A full book series just wouldn't be the way to do it. Their story isn't structured like that, and I'm worried that it would either feel weird as a single long narrative (so many plot threads unresolved because they don't come to pass until TMI, lots of characters spread across different lives who don't really like each other), or get squished into the more traditional hero's journey -> tragic downfall structure (no longer fits in with the established canon).

Short stories really are the perfect solution, because they can hone in on those turning point moments, while giving a snapshot of an entire era and hints to what came before and after. I'd love to see one about Michael's life with Eliza and how he felt about Robert and the Circle from afar, or about Stephen choosing to leave Amatis on Valentine's orders, or how Hodge came to reconnect with Valentine in the 2000s because he felt abandoned by the Clave. These things probably couldn't fit into a cohesive series of novels, but they could definitely work as brief stand-alones. Each character could get their own mini-arc that shows something important about them, even if it doesn't fit into some kind of smoothly overarching plot. We wouldn't need to worry about every plot threat reaching a climax at around the same time, or every character getting their narratively satisfying resolution. It could just be what it was, scattered and unresolved.

i love the bits of lore we have about the circle and i think it's a really underrated and under-discussed aspect of tsc, but i dont think the secret treasons/any other story which focuses solely on the circle could ever be something that fits into tsc as a whole, and i know that any real version of it would only ever disappoint me. so i while my curiosity for what tst wouldve been like will never go away i unfortunately do ultimately prefer the circle as this background story which only ever leaves you wondering about what truly happened

[hitracks]

I can’t stop thinking about pumpkinduo funger au someone HELP ME !!!!!!!!!!!! I should make a new endings for them that fit into ending B … I could make little photo cards and stuff oh my days. I feelr ill

Feeling like this rn.

[lopposting]

The original waltz, "Fascination", written in 1904, and quite fitting to the game: composed by a man who had italian origins, but written in france.

Do you ever think he imagined people still like his song?

[jasontoddenthusiastt]

On the subject of gotham county line and batman noel and so on and so forth it’s pretty frustrating (from a watsonian pov) that anytime Bruce hallucinates Jason being loving/ caring/helpful/compassionate towards him it’s always as robin and never as his current self

[averlym]

@remylong :

[cinemaocd]

Furiosa x Jack are like Peggy x Stan if there was an apocalypse on Madison Ave. in the '60s...

[mishy-mashy]

The same fic as Hasta la Vista baby, but going a bit more back in time to focus on En's wacky marriage with his best friend (Hima. An OC) when he was actually alive

In which two ace people marry into a QP relationship, because one (Hima) wouldn't shut up about marriage

Featuring,

Tall woman + short man = PROFIT?

"Ah! Ow! I'm sorry OW!! Hey!!!"

En hmphed, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed.

"Just so you know, I've grown another inch."

She rubbed her head, relieved of his pulling her hair for her slight. "Congratulations on hitting 5'2, then."

En deals with spontaneous proposals everyday until he agrees

[Day 1]

"Let's get married!" she seemed to decide, planting her fists on her hips.

"....."

"What's with that look?!"

En had stopped midstep and stared at her, eyes slightly wide in confusion, brows crinkled, not sure what to say or if she really meant it. Much like the face of one seeing a drug addict suddenly burst in front of them, butt naked, and running off. She was absolutely the equivalent to that right now.

".... We- We're 19," En tried to reason, not understanding why she decided that. "We just graduated, and we're too young-"

"Age is just a number," she deadpanned. "Jail is just a room. Marriage is just an agreement."

"How does jail tie into this conversation?!"

"Clearly, you deserve it, for breaking my heart," she sniffed. "Jail! Jail for a thousand years!"

***

Banjo squinted. Because did En just sprint by in a panic, with Hima-san on his heels with a rolled newspaper, shouting "JAIL!!!"?

"... Was that En?"

"He probably deserved whatever it was," Torino dismissed. He kept his gaze ahead, taiyaki between two fingers. "You don't argue with girls. They'll rain hell when you do."

Banjo didn't look convinced. His brow scrunched, turned in the direction the pair ran off.

"Would you'd like to get in Hima-san's warpath?" Torino quirked a brow. "Once she makes up her mind, she doesn't stop. I don't doubt her Quirk influences that."

"Welp! Good luck, En!" Banjo threw him under the bus, turning away immediately to continue a happy march down the ruined pavement.

[Day 2]

"Please please please please please!"

En stared blankly at her. Then his gaze went down to the distance between them. His paused yellow tape measure was pointedly stretched in front of him.

"Didn't I say five meters?"

She slumped in her dogeza. "Come on, En! I didn't mean to knock you out! I'm sorry! Marry me!"

"En, it was only for a few seconds," Nana said, exchanging paper bills with Torino in a silent bet over the pair. "And to be fair, you're the one that ran into the pole."

"I wouldn't have been running if she wasn't chasing me," En kept on, arms crossed.

[Day 3]

En didn't look away from the hamburger menu he was pointedly keeping his attention on, gaze up at the shining neon.

Very obviously so, to avoid looking at his friend, who currently bended down on one knee to his left, waiting for his attention to propose.

"Oh, honeybunch? Sugar plum?" No way was she starting to sing-song for his attention. "Pumpy-umpy-umpkin?"

"No."

"Hey, my sweetie pie-"

En speedruns the marriage process because his friend wants to (divorce included?)

"Sorahiko-senpai, give me the marriage certificate," En nearly hissed over their burgers.

Sorahiko chewed slowly. "Why?"

"I'm about to set the world record for fastest divorce—!!!"

Sorahiko is the worst person to go to for relationship advice.

[Case 1]

"Gran Torino, you should really keep your nose out of their business," Crimson Riot said, after watching Hima walk off after a quick conversation with Torino.

"I didn't say anything bad," Torino said.

"You just told Hima-san to fill Smoke Eater's shoes with pie filling and bake for 20 minutes?"

"If she can't find Smokey, he'll eventually come looking for her as the culprit," Torino defended.

Then his phone started blowing up with panicked texts from said Smokey.

"See? She found him."

"Actually," Crimson glanced at his own phone, receiving similar messages, "he's asking why you told her to do that. She just texted him the new plan you told her to do."

Couldn't she have just texted him for his location? Crimson thought.

Truly, she was not the sharpest person there was.

"Her phone was 1%, so it's probably dead now... he can't reach her cell either," Crimson read, taking in the new information pouring through his texts in even more of a frenzy. "Straight to voicemail. And he's two districts over, so he's not gonna make it home in time to stop her. Oh, wow."

He chewed. "Sounds like a skill issue."

"Torino—"

[Case 2]

"I'm just saying, naming a kid Butter Stick isn't a bad name," Torino defended over his mochi. That he stole from En's pantry, but no one really cared to stop him at the time. They already learned to stop buying taiyaki, because Torino was a rat who kept breaking into their apartment for it.

It still didn't stop them from waking up and finding him eating their cereal in the kitchen. He'd broken 3 windows – always the same one – before Hima finally explained how to open it.

En currently laid on the couch he was kicked to sleep on tonight, back facing them and angry steam wafting from his head.

Nana pulled the container of mochi away from him. After he egged on En's wife, leading to her original "intellectual debate" over what foods would work as human names becoming too heated, Torino didn't deserve his sweet cravings fulfilled. Especially when it was out of En's pocket.

[Case 3]

"Divorce her," Torino declared immediately, after bearing witness to Hima blue shelling En on the TV.

"It's just a video game," Nana said from her spot on the couch. "Stop telling him that every time something happens."

"She took the last taiyaki earlier, she deserves it," Torino decided.

"Right," Nana mumbled into her hot chocolate. "Tell me that again when she's strung you up on a flag pole with her Quirk."

[sixohsixoheightfourtwo]

re: what fandom 'a little life' came from, my immediate knee-jerk thought was "backstreet boys." i have absolutely no basis for this other than Terminally Online Brain Worms esp bc..........there are 5 of those boyband fellas and as far as i remember only 4 main characters in that book lmfao. what can i say. the boyband angle feel right

yeah i'll incorporate that into my belief system

[milo-is-rambling]

Was high and sleepy but remembered I hadn’t taken my pill yet so I got out of bed and ate even tho I didn’t want to and then took my meds and also remembered that my sheets were in the drier and then put them on my bed everyone be proud of me

[casekt]

Creativity is such a weird thing, like you either have it or you don't, and sometimes it goes away and comes back, it's really like divine wisdom but the wisdom I get imparted with is of a 58 year old man and his sexcapades or whatever

[girls-and-honey]

List 5 things that make you happy, then put this in the askbox for the last 10 people who reblogged something from you! get to know your mutuals and followers (ू•‧̫•ू⑅)

nat!!!! good to see you I feel like it's been so long <3 okay this list is not necessarily top five, just five that came to mind

dedicated reading time, when you're not distracted thinking about other things you could or 'should' be doing

home cooked meals / baked goods. bonus that your kitchen smells amazing afterwards

cool days when I can keep the windows open (like today <3)

hanging out with the bunnies

plants! especially houseplants to liven up the indoors

[mxtxfanatic]

@sunbunnyyy I’m sorry, but none of this answers any of the questions I asked nor is it accurate to the novel or mxtx’s intentions:

The framework of the world he was written into valued filial piety and repaying debts, the two things that Jiang Cheng blatantly and explicitly disregards throughout the entire novel. He upheld no Jiang traditions, which is why Lotus Pier is nigh unrecognizable by the time Wei Wuxian returns in his second life. He repaid no debts, which is why he ends up having two separate breakdowns over the golden core transfer. If we are going only by these two standards of morality that the story, itself, sets up, then Jiang Cheng is right next to Jin Guangyao in his immorality.

The framework of the story was created by a modern woman with a modern sense of ethics and morality that she expresses clearly in both the novel and her interviews about the novel, therefore you don’t need to know the morality of “that time period” because it doesn’t exist. The book was written now. The time period is literally now! To say that “we just can’t judge” like this fantasy novel written about a fantasy time period was written in that fantasy time period is not a good way to frame analysis.

I think he is not a moral person, based on my standards, because of some of the things I’ve listed above and quite a few more things I have not listed. I have evidence from the book that justifies that reading. I want to know whether you think he is moral or has moments where he acted morally and where in the book corroborates that reading. While the book and author take a clear stance on his character, you’re right, not everyone reads it the same when actually going through the book. Hence me straight up asking why people formed a conclusion that I do not see supported from the text, because it might be there but my feelings have given me a divergent understanding than others.

I have two Jiang Cheng-centric questions about how and why people perceive him the way that they do. This is only for people who do not think that Jiang Cheng is a bad person (not whether or not you like his character, but whether or not this character, if real, would be considered a good person by the average person). The questions are:

1) if you believe that he is or attempted to be a moral person, where are places in the novel where he displays, in your eyes, either moral action or intent?

2) in what moments does Jiang Cheng take the initiative in a given situation (being a leader, following his own desires, ect.) where he is neither prompted by an authority figure or following the lead of his peers?

(If it’s not an idea you got from the novel, you could say that, too, but I’m really looking for the opinions of people who are convinced that mxtx wrote his character to be at least “decent.”)

[retiredteabag]

winter weight (nanami ver)

Synopsis: nanami has gained some weight this winter, it seems you don't mind.

based on this fanfic I wrote for Toji which was based on this fanart! thank you @lil-sis for requesting more nanami :,)

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

You had known Nanami Kento for years before you were romantically involved. He had never made an inappropriate comment, always treated you with the utmost respect, and was all-around, the truest form of a gentleman.

For a time, you locked away your feelings for the kind man, sure he could never see you in that way, but little did you know, the man in question hid from your gaze, not because he did not want to see you, but in fear that you would see him. See him for what he was: a man, obsessed.

You had been with Ken for nine months now and he was everything you could want and more. He was communicative, thoughtful, and romantic. He looked at you in a way nobody had before. Likewise, for you, those nine months passed with comfortable ease.

This was your first winter together, and with the changing of the seasons you learned day by day that the man you knew was your life partner. The both of you were homebodies in a sense, however, with the chilly air and light snowfall this week, you were even more keen on a night in together.

You raced around the house, lighting candles, simmering mulling spices on the stove, and laying out blankets for the two of you. The house felt even cozier knowing that Ken was coming to join you.

He had spent the afternoon with his parents and was coming over after having dinner, he told you to eat without him and you had just finished cleaning your plate when you received a text,

"I am on my way now, sweetheart, is there anything you would like from the store?"

Ken was like this, domestic in the way that made you want to bounce around the room. You thought for a moment before deciding you would probably need more eggs. Earlier this week the two of you had planned a movie night, the next morning you were both hoping to bake cookies together while playing board games or taking turns reading to one another.

You informed him of the need for eggs and he told you he would be just a few more minutes. During that time you scrolled through the choices of movies, picking a few for the two of you to choose from.

Despite being together longer than the gestational period for a baby human, you still received butterflies in your stomach at the thought of his arrival. Knowing he was nearly home, you bounded to the kitchen and faced the door, the room smelled delicious, the only thing missing was his presence, and perhaps another layer of clothing.

Even so, you could hear his footsteps approach and knew that the two of you would share a blanket and body heat in no time.

When the man finally opened the door he was smiling shyly, a red dusting across his face from the cold. He wore a long winter coat, and in his arms were a bouquet of flowers and a wrapped gift.

You rushed to greet him, taking the day bag from his arm,

"Oh! Ken, they're beautiful!" You stood on tiptoe as he bent his knee and you kissed his cold cheek. "Goodness, you're freezing! Come in please!"

"Hello, my love." He smiled more broadly now, wrapping his free arm around you, "This if from my parents, but they told me not to let you open it until the holidays."

A warmth ran through you, the Nanami's were all too kind. Kento set the flowers on the counter and stepped toward the coat rack by the door to retire his shoes and jacket.

In the motion it took for him to pull the sleeves off his broad shoulders, you took him in. Leaning on the kitchen counter you allowed yourself to stare at him. His dress shirt was tight on his arms, and his suit pants clung to his thighs. You took a step toward him again.

"I almost don't want you to change, you look so handsome in your work clothes."

"Well, I've certainly put on some weight. These pants hardly fit now." he looks increasingly uncomfortable, not to be in your presence but to show that he was dressed in such a tailored fashion.

"Ken, my dear, you look incredible." You contain the desire to squeeze his thigh by walking to the bedroom and bringing out a pair of sweats and a cotton shirt.

"Although you are a delight to see this way, I'll let you get comfortable." You smile and pinch his bicep.

"Thank you, dear, I don't believe I've ever been so heavy. It's all the good restaurants you introduce me to, perhaps I should get back into the gym." He had grabbed the soft clothes you picked for him and walked into the bedroom to change.

"You're the one bringing me to all those good restaurants so you can't just blame me." You smile from outside the door.

"I'm just grateful you're with me" He laughs, pulling the shirt over his head.

"Ugh!" You exclaim, "Of course, Ken, don't say something so ridiculous." He laughs but you are still caught on what he said earlier. "And don't start going to the gym, you look great, very chewable."

He pops out from behind the door and looks down at you, amused. "I'm not sure how to feel about that descriptor, but if you still like me with extra weight, then I suppose I can remain comfortable."

"Still like you?" You gasp offended, "Ken, I grow more attracted to you every day, I don't care how tight your clothes are, in fact, it's a good look."

He gives you a mischievous face, "Go sit on the couch, pick a movie, stop trying to seduce me."

You laugh, incredulous, "I'm not trying anything, I'm only speaking the truth." You shrug, bounding to the couch and crawling beneath the blanket. Ken brings two mugs of cider before joining you.

That night you lay on his chest, watching a cheesy romance, the both of you laughing at the silly main character. You tilt your head up, to watch his face, your eyes catching the beginning of a few grey hairs dispersed in his blonde hair. You gently run your hand through his undercut.

In that moment, in his arms, as comfortable as you've ever been, you are sure, he is the man you will grow old with.