#SO IF BARE MINIMUM CHAPTERS I MIGHT STAY THE SAME LENGTH

[aparticularbandit]

the first hp book is almost 77k words.

by comparison, mine in the au is currently a little over 32k and i still have nine chapters - over half of the book - after i finish this one. and that's the rough draft. i already know i have a couple of additions to make - one is important, the other less so - it might not get added. we'll see.

what i'm saying is that mine might be longer. ><

[discoscoob]

Buzz Kill | Loki x Female Reader

Loki (Marvel) x Doctor Who

When the Doctor decides to crash a party at a mansion in the 1920s, the last thing you expect it to involve is a murder, a mystery and Agatha Christie.

Part Five | Part Seven | Chapter Index

Words: 6.1k

Warnings: death: minor characters

A/N: This is part one of what was meant to be one whole chapter but due to the length I decided to split it into two separate parts, so I apologise for the abrupt ending. Also Loki is dressed as Thomas Sharpe in this chapter, hence the gif.

Read on AO3

You were currently in the TARDIS wardrobe getting dressed for a 1920s party which Donna and the Doctor had decided to crash. You had picked out an elegant lilac flapper dress, which had layered skirts on the bottom that fell just below your knee, embroidered flowers decorated the left side near your hips, where a velvet plum coloured ribbon was tied loosely. You paired it with some silk champagne coloured gloves which reached your elbow and a band of gemstones wrapped around your head like a crown.

 You pushed back the dressing room curtain to find Loki waiting for you with his shoulder lent against the wall and his arms crossed over his chest. His gaze lifted as soon as he heard the hooks of the curtain scrape against the metal bar and he immediately stood to attention as he took in your appearance, while you took in his.

 He was dressed lavishly, in a long black velvet coat, over a silk black waistcoat, with a pocket watch and a matching silk ribbon tied into a bow around his neck, which the collar of his white dress shirt barely peaked out of.

 “You look ravishing, my dear.” His voice dropped and caused your stomach to flip as he stalked towards you, your feet glued to the spot where his eyes pinned you until his large hands were grasping your by your hips and tugged you close, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders to balance yourself.

 “And you look absolutely stunning, I fear I won’t be able to take my eyes off of you during the whole party.” You confessed, while you played with the hair at the back of his neck.

 “You’ll hear no objections from me.” The God smiled proudly.

 “We’ll be late for cocktails!” The Doctor impatiently shouted as he knocked on the other side of the door to the spacious wardrobe.

 Loki rolled his eyes with a sigh as he took a step back to offer you his arm in a gentlemanly manner.

 “Shall we?”

 ***

 “Okay, ground rules.” The Doctor stated as soon as you were all stood outside of the TARDIS, in a green shady area behind a large mansion, whoever was having this party was very well-to-do.

 “Rules? We never had rules before.” You frowned, still by Loki’s side with your arm tucked into the crook of his elbow.

 “We weren’t all on the run before either.” Touché, you thought as the time lord continued, addressing Loki directly this time. “Try to keep your use of magic to a minimum, we know they can use it to track you.”

 “And you know the rest,” he addressed all of you, “no changing history, don’t tell anyone where we’re from, don’t abuse your ability to time travel for gambling etc... etc... you get the gist. Now, I think we have a party to crash.” The Doctor offered Donna his arm, much like Loki had to you, before they lead the way to the back of the mansion with you and Loki following in toe.

 It was a gorgeous summers day, the air was warm but not too humid as a fresh breeze occasionally cooled your skin.��

 You heard the sound of piano music playing from a gramophone as you approached a group of waiters who were smartly dressed in tuxedos, they gathered around a set of straw chairs and tables in the back garden of the mansion. 

 Strung between trees over head, hung decorative red lanterns and a long table covered with a pristine white cloth was filled with an assortment of various fruits. 

 “Good afternoon!” The Doctor raised his hand as one of the waiters approached your group.

 “Drinks, ladies and gentlemen?” The waiter courteously offered.

 “Sidecar, please.” Your auntie answered, making her tone sound slightly more sophisticated than usual.

 “Uh, a lime and soda, thank you.” The Doctor requested, before the waiters eyes fell on you.

 “Oh... erm, a singapore sling, please.” You decided and followed the waiters eyes as he looked to Loki for his order. You noticed that Loki was now wearing a pair of dark round, silver framed sunglasses to protect his eyes from the bright sun.

 “I shall have the same.” Loki copied your order and the waiter swiftly left to prepare your drinks.

 “I like these,” you complimented Loki’s sunglasses as you squinted up at him, the sun getting in your own eyes.

 With a discreet wave of his hand, an almost identical pair were resting on your own nose, relieving your eyes from the harsh sun. As soon as you parted your lips to remind him not to use his magic, he lifted his finger to his own lips which were lifted into a subtle smirk and your words immediately died on your tongue.

 “May I announce Lady Clemency Eddison!” A butler hollered, as he escorted a middle aged, blonde woman wearing a midnight blue cocktail dress into the garden where you were all gathered.

 “Lady Eddison!” The Doctor held out his arms, as if greeting an old friend.

 “Forgive me, but who exactly might you be and what are you doing here?” She politely asked him, her speech indicated her class and wealth as she took the Doctors hand in her own as a form of greeting.

 “I’m the Doctor, and this is Miss Donna Noble of the Chiswick Nobles, her niece and Sir Loki of Asgard.” The Doctor introduced you all one by one. “We were thrilled to receive your invitation, my lady. We met at the Ambassador’s reception.” He smoothly lied as he held up his wallet containing the psychic paper.

 Easily convinced by the fake invite and too polite to acknowledge that she clearly had no recollection of meeting the Doctor, Lady Eddison smiled.

 “Doctor, how could I forget you?” She feigned realisation. “But one must be sure with the Unicorn on the loose.”

 She made her way over to a waiter who was holding a silver platter of champagne saucers and helped herself to one, as you all followed behind her. 

 “A unicorn? Brilliant! Where?” The Doctors interest spiked, as did yours.

 “The Unicorn. The jewel thief.” She clarified and your shoulders slumped, for a second you had thought she was talking about an actual unicorn, obviously you knew they weren’t real but anything was possible when traveling with the Doctor.

 “Are unicorns real on Asgard?” You looked at Loki, hoping that you didn’t sound crazy but if he could conjure up sunglasses out of thin air surely anything was possible.

 “Unicorns? No.” Loki softly chuckled. “We do, however, have winged horses. The Valkyrie, an army of female Asgardian warriors, used to ride them into battle.” Loki explained.

 “Oh wow.” You gasped with amazement at what Loki told you and his lips stretched into a proud smile, delighted that he could impress you with stories of the world he grew up in.

 A waiter approached you all and served you the cocktails you ordered on a silver platter, the ice rocks clinked against the glasses as you each lifted your drink from the tray. 

 “He’s just struck again.” Lady Eddison continued to explain about the jewel thief. “Snatched Lady Babbington’s pearls right from under her nose.” 

 “Funny place to wear her pearls.” Donna commented, causing you to splutter on your drink as you stifled your giggles.

 As you enjoyed your drinks the butler announced more guests as they made their way into the garden. Lady Eddison’s husband and son, Hugh and Roger, the son pushed his father in his wheelchair, a beautiful young socialite called Miss Robina Redmond and a Reverend known as Arnold Golightly.

 You turned to put your glass down on one of the tables, as the condensation of the cold glass was beginning to make your silk gloves wet, when a sudden eruption of applause caught your attention. 

 A blonde lady in a blue and golden embroidered frock humbly approached the group. 

 “Agatha Christie.” She said as she held out her hand to Donna, greeting her first.

 “What about her?” Donna replied as she accepted the woman’s hand.

 “That’s me.” Agatha clarified and Donna’s jaw fell slack.

 “No! You’re kidding.” Donna gasped in disbelief.

 “Agatha Christie!” The Doctor smiled as he enthusiastically shook her hand, “I was just talking about you the other day! I said, I bet she’s brilliant! I’m the Doctor, this is Donna. Oh! I love your stuff! What a mind! You fool me every time, well, almost every time, well, once or twice, well, once. But it was a good once!” 

 “You make a rather unusual couple.” Agatha observed.

 “No, we’re not married!” 

 “Yeah we’re not a couple!” 

 The Doctor and Donna spoke in unison.

 “I’d stay that way, if I were you. The thrill is in the chase, never in the capture.” Agatha advised. 

 You felt Loki’s arms slide around your waist as he pulled your back into his chest.

 “I beg to differ.” Loki whispered lowly and his lips brushed the shell of your ear, igniting a pleasurable flutter within you.

 You turned around in his arms and put your hands on his chest to push him away as you stepped back, above his sunglasses you saw his brows draw together and he opened his mouth to speak but you beat him to it.

 “How can you say for sure if you haven’t chased me yet?” You questioned him, as you continued to back away with a playful grin.

 Loki simply raised one eyebrow as he tilted his head and brought his sunglasses down his nose, to look at you from over their rim. “Is that a challenge, darling?” 

 “It might be.” You shrugged.

 “My dear, you have no idea what you’re getting yourself into.” Loki warned you, with a smirk that only enticed you further, so you didn’t listen.

 You immediately took off as laughter bubbled in your chest and there was an ever so slight rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins. You headed directly towards the open doors of the mansion and Loki was hot on your heel.

 Donna and the Doctor turned their heads and watched the pair of you run off after they heard you let out a squeal around uncontrollable laughter, they looked back at the party when they realised all the guests had fallen speechless over your unbecoming behaviour.

 “Young love.” Donna tilted her head and scrunched her nose in an ‘aw’ expression and it was enough to get the guests to return to their previous conversations.

 The sound of your feet heavily hitting against the tiled floor of the mansions entrance, bounced off the walls of the narrow hallway. You snatched your sunglasses off your face as your eyes adjusted to the dullness inside the mansion, in contrast to how bright it was outside. 

 Your eyes caught a grand staircase at the end of the hallway and immediately ran towards it, when your foot reached the bottom step you glanced over your shoulder to find Loki was already halfway to the stairs, his sunglasses also removed from his face and you felt a spark of adrenaline through your abdomen, spurring you on to move quicker. 

 You had to pause at the top of the stairs to momentarily catch your breath, but quickly moved on once you heard Loki’s footsteps getting closer. It was when you turned down the left corridor that you realised you made a mistake, a dead end. 

 You startled with a shriek when Loki’s arms finally caught you around the waist and he manoeuvred you so that your back was against one of the doors, you were laughing the whole time until your eyes connected with his once he caged you in and you saw the carnal desire hidden in his dilated pupils and your breath hitched.

 “So... what’s your verdict?” You questioned him, your voice breathy as you were still panting.

 “I’ll admit, the chase is certainly thrilling, however,” his tone lowered, “now that I have captured you, you’re mine to do with as I please and that is far more thrilling.” 

 You swallowed as your stomach did summersaults while tingles shot up from the base of your spine and you weren’t panting from exertion anymore.

 Instantly his mouth was moving against yours, as he fumbled with the doorknob beside your hip, to push the door behind you open. He was already supporting your weight with his arm steadily wrapped around your waist, so you wouldn’t lose your balance as he walked you into the unknown room as his lips slowly trailed from your mouth, down your jaw and to your neck. 

 While Loki was distractedly kissing you, you let your eyes flutter open to examine your surroundings, from the bookshelves that lined the walls you gathered that it was a library, as your eyes continued to roam they fell onto a large mahogany desk and then– you screeched with terror.

 “Oh my god!”

 Loki immediately lifted his head from the crook of your neck as he checked over you with wide worried eyes, seeing your stare was focused behind him, he looked over his shoulder, prepared to protect you from whatever had struck terror through you, only to find the lifeless body of an elderly man on the floor in front of the desk.

 He immediately switched your positions, so your back was turned to the body, he wrapped you in his arms and he soothed you with gentle strokes down your back.

 “We have to tell the Doctor.” You told him, once you composed yourself, you felt Loki nod in agreement as he pulled you under his arm and swiftly guided you out of the room.

 ***

 “Did you touch the body?” The Doctor urgently asked as he rushed through the door to the library. You followed in toe along with Loki, Donna, the butler and Agatha Christie.

 “No, we came to you as soon as we saw it.” You answered the Doctor, as you stood off near the corner of the room with Loki beside you, feeling a lot more calmer now that the initial shock had worn off.

 The Doctor put on a pair of glasses as he knelt over the body and examined it.

 “Bashed on the head. A blunt instrument. Watch broke as he fell, time of death was a quarter past four.” He concluded, before he rose to his feet and started searching through papers on the desk with the hope of finding more evidence.

“Nothing worth killing for in that lot. Dry as dust.” He mumbled to himself.

 “Hold on. The body in the library? I mean, Professor Peach, in the library, with the lead piping?” Donna said to the Doctor, as he continued to search through the desk and you realised you had been wrong to compare the deaths in the Dark Ages to Clue, this was literally Clue. 

 “Let me see. Gerald?!”

 “Saints preserve us!” 

 “Oh, how awful.”

 Lady Eddison, Roger, the Reverend and Miss Redmond came spilling into the room, upon hearing about the body.

 “Someone should call the police.” Agatha Christie spoke above them all.

 “You don’t have to. I’m Chief Inspector Smith, from Scotland Yard, known as the Doctor.” The Time Lord said as he held up his psychic paper for all the guests to see. “Miss Noble’s the plucky young girl who helps me out. Go into the sitting room, I will question each of you in turn.”

 “Come along. Do as the Doctor says, leave the room undisturbed.” Agatha ushered everyone out, leaving only you and Loki behind with Donna and the Doctor.

 “The plucky young girl who helps me out?” Donna repeated the Doctors words with mockery as soon as the door shut behind all the guests.

 “No policewomen in 1926.” The Doctor easily explained from where he was lying flat on his stomach on the floor, searching it for clues.

 “Doctor, why aren’t we getting the real police?” You asked as you moved towards him and Donna.

 “Well, the last thing we want is PC Plod sticking his nose in. Especially now I found this.” The Doctor shot to his feet, holding up a stick in his hand to show the three of you the residue which stuck to the end of it. “Morphic residue. It gets left behind when certain species genetically re-encode.” 

 Donna looked at you. “The murderers an alien?” 

 “Which means one of that lot is an alien in human form.” The Doctor explained as he nodded his head towards the door to signal that he meant one of the party guests.

 The Doctor began making his way out of the library and you all started following behind.

 “Think about it. There’s a murder, a mystery and Agatha Christie. Isn’t it a bit weird? Agatha Christie didn’t walk around surrounded by murders. Not really. I mean, that’s like meeting Charles Dickens and he’s surrounded by Ghosts at Christmas. Next thing you know, you’ll be telling me it’s like the Murder on the Orient Express, and they all did it.” Donna spoke, as you all moved around the mansion. 

 “Murder on the Orient Express?” Agatha suddenly appeared from under one of the doorways.

 “Oh, yeah, one of your best!” Donna complimented the authors work.

 “Not quite yet.” The Doctor subtly corrected Donna.

 “Marvellous idea.” Agatha considered.

 “Yeah, tell you what, copyright Donna Noble, okay.” Donna winked at Agatha, who in return gave her a strange look.

 “Anyway! Agatha and I will question the suspects. You, Loki and Donna, search the bedrooms. Look for clues.” The Doctor instructed, before he lowered his voice to a whisper. ���Anymore residue. You’ll all need one of these.” 

 The Doctor proceeded to reach into the inside pocket of his jacket and handed each of you a magnifying glass. 

 “It’s like Scooby Doo, and we’re Mystery Inc.” You said enthusiastically. 

 Loki looked at the magnifying glass like had personally offended him meanwhile you were looking at him through yours, making certain parts of his face bigger and chuckling at the results. 

 “Is this for real?” Donna asked, looking at her magnifying glass.

 “Right then! Solving a mystery with Agatha Christie, brilliant!” The Doctor smiled with excitement.

 “How like a man to have fun while there’s disaster all around him.” Agatha scoffed.

 “Sorry, yeah.” The Doctor mumbled as his smile awkwardly fell.

 ***

 You and Loki had paired up to search for clues, while Donna searched by herself. 

 “We should return of the library and see if we can find a trail of the residue to follow.” You decided. “It might lead us to some more clues.”

 “Lead the way, Detective.” Loki stepped aside and allowed you to walk ahead of him back to the library. 

 As you entered the library, your eyes momentarily lingered on the professors body in front of the desk. Sensing your hesitation, Loki put his hand on your shoulder.

 “We can search for clues in another room, if you would prefer.” He gently offered, but you shook your head.

 “No, I’m fine,” you turned to Loki so that he could see you weren’t lying. “I was just thinking, shouldn’t he be covered with a sheet or something?”

 “Why?” Loki didn’t follow.

 “It’s... dignified, I guess?” You answered without complete confidence, as you weren’t sure if that was the exact reason you saw people cover bodies with sheets in films and TV shows, but you were certain that it felt like the right thing to do and it was enough to convince Loki as he nodded.

 “I’ll get a sheet from one of the rooms, I’ll be right back.” He planted a kiss on your forehead before leaving and you turned back around to face the room to start searching.

 You searched near the fireplace and your eye caught the remains of a burnt piece of paper, it was only about the size of a bottle top but you picked it up and examined it suspecting that it might be worth interest if someone had thrown it into the fire to be destroyed.

 Using your magnifying glass to help you, you read the single word on the piece of paper and discovered it said ‘maiden.’ You kept it in your palm and rose back to your feet when you heard Loki return to the room, in his arms he carried a white sheet, which he likely stole from one of the bedrooms.

 “Find anything?” He asked, as he shook the sheet out over the professors body before he guided it down slowly until it was covering him completely.

 “A piece of paper in the fire.” You held out your glove covered palm as you approached Loki’s side and his eyes fell on it. “I figured, if someone had thrown it into the fire with the intention of destroying it, it must be of interest.” 

 Loki looked at you with a proud smirk, which caused you to beam and cast your eyes downward.

 “Would you look after it though? I don’t have any pockets.” You asked him.

 “Of course, my dear.” He took the paper from your palm between his forefinger and thumb and snuck it into the tiny pocket in his waistcoat behind his pocket watch.

 Suddenly you heard your auntie screaming and yelling for the Doctor and you immediately began running towards the sound of her voice, Loki chased behind you. 

 On your way, you caught up with the Doctor and Agatha Christie and all four of you continued running to Donna’s rescue. 

 You caught her running out of one of the bedroom doors screaming, before she abruptly pulled it shut behind her, her attention turned to the four of you as she heard the sound of your feet galloping towards her.

 “A giant wasp!” Donna cried.

 “Oh my god, is that it? I thought someone was trying to kill you.” You sighed with a mix of annoyance and relief.

 “It was!” Donna claimed dramatically.

 “Don’t be silly, it’s only a little insect.” Agatha shook her head at your auntie, who looked about ready to slap all of you.

 “When I say giant, I don’t mean big! I mean flippin’ enormous!” She raised her voice for emphasis, before she gestured to the bottom of the door. “Look at it’s sting!”

 “Oh...” Your eyes widened with realisation as they landed on the abnormally large sting that was lodged halfway through the bottom of the door. 

 There was no doubt that it would’ve killed your auntie instantly if she had been stung by it.

 “Let me see.” The Doctor pushed past to open the door and everyone followed in behind him. “It’s gone.”

 When you entered the room, the stale smell of dust immediately surrounded you, the room appeared as though it had been untouched for decades, dust and cobwebs covered almost every surface.

 The Doctor rushed to the only window in the room, which was completely smashed through, indicating that was how the giant wasp made it’s escape. You realised it was also how it made its entrance when you heard the sound of broken glass crunching beneath the Doctors shoes as he returned to the door to examine the large sting. 

 “Don’t touch it!” The Doctor warned all of you and you felt Loki’s fingers wrap around your wrist to pull you closer to his side to ensure you didn’t go anywhere near the sting.

 “Giant wasp... well, tons of amorphous insectivorous life forms, but none in this galactic vector.” The Doctor thought out loud as he pulled out a test tube and used a stick to scrape some syrup like substance that was dripping from the sting into it. 

 “It’s lost its sting though, that makes it defenceless.” Donna said, she was crouched beside the Doctor.

 “Creature this size, got to be able to grow a new one.” The Doctor told her.

 Another scream carried through the mansion which had you all immediately rushing to find its source, you and Loki held hands as you ran behind the Doctor who made it down the stairs and outside to find Lady Eddison’s personal maid on her back, one of the stone carvings of the mansion had fallen on top of her and she was barely alive. The gravel stone of the drive slid beneath the Doctor’s feet as he rushed to her side.

 You all circled around her as she struggled to say her final words. 

 “The poor... little... child.” She rasped before her head lulled to the side and her eyes fell vacant as the life drained from behind them.

 You all lifted your heads to look up when you heard the sound of loud buzzing above you and although you had seen the size of it’s sting in the door. You weren’t prepared to be greeted by the sight of a six foot long wasp hovering over you. 

 Wasps had always triggered your fight or flight and of course you could never fight a wasp so flight was always your go to, whenever you saw a wasp you would immediately put as much distance between you and it as you possibly could, often that meant running away completely and this time was no different. 

 While the Doctor, Donna and Agatha had all began running after it, you ran in the opposite direction, splitting your group into two halves and Loki didn’t hesitate in deciding you were the one he was going to follow. 

 You ran back into the safety of the mansion, sheltering yourself in a corner where you weren’t close to any doors or windows as you shook the heebie jeebies out of your body by jumping up and down on the spot and shaking out all your limbs.

 Loki caught up with you and saw your jittery dance and couldn’t control the laughter that bubbled from his throat and when you heard it, you glared at him and he brought his hand to his mouth to stifle his sniggers and tried to offer you an apologetic look.

 “I’m sorry,” he tilted his head as he slowly closed the distance between you, now that you had finally settled, “but your dance was rather amusing.”

 Another unpleasant shiver shot down your spine, causing you to shake it out as you let out a cringe. 

 “They freak me out,” you told Loki, as he placed his hand on your upper arm and stroked it to gently sooth you. “Even the normal sized ones, I can’t help it.”

 “It’s alright,” Loki assured you and you nodded.

 “I’m okay now,” you told him honestly with a smile, before you remembered your auntie and the Doctor chased after the wasp. 

 “Doctor and Donna,” you gasped. “They went after the wasp.”

 “Don’t worry, we will find them.” Loki told you before he took your hand in his, “I’m sure the Doctor has everything under control.” 

 ***

 The Doctor didn’t have everything under control. 

 You and Loki had spent a good while searching around the large mansion, mostly just getting lost and ending up in the same place more than once, when you heard a commotion coming from the staff kitchen as you were walking past it. The distinct sound of Donna and the Doctors voices carried through the kitchen and into the corridor, as they shouted hysterically at each other. 

 You and Loki paused to share a questioning glance before you quickened your paces towards the kitchen.

 “What do you want, a Harvey Wallbanger?” Your auntie shouted.

 “Harvey Wallbanger?!” The Doctor screeched, as you and Loki silently snuck into the room unnoticed.

 “Well, I don’t know!” Donna raised the pitch of her voice.

 “How is Harvey Wallbanger one word?!” The Doctor roared, causing the veins in his neck to stand prominent. He was almost doubled over and was struggling to hold himself up as he leaned against the island in the centre of the kitchen for support.

 “Salt! I was miming salt! Salt! I need something salty!” The Doctor violently shook his hand up and down as if he was shaking a salt shaker.

 “What about this?” Donna offered him a brown paper bag filled with something.

 “What is it?!” 

 “Salt!” 

 “That’s too salty!” 

 “Oh, that’s too salty!” She repeated mockingly as she rolled her eyes.

 “What about this?” Agatha Christie ran over, offering the Doctor a jar of anchovies, which he immediately snatched from her and shoved its contents into his mouth.

 “What is it? What else do you need?” Donna asked the Doctor out of breath, as he began miming something else, waving both his hands wildly in the air.

“Um, it’s a song? Mammy?” Donna cried in an operatic voice. “I don’t know. Camptown Races?”

 “Camptown Races?!” The Doctor cried.

 “All right then. Towering Inferno?!” 

 “It’s a shock! Look!” He raised his hands up and waved them again. “Shock! I need a shock!” 

 “Right then. Big shock coming up!” Donna sighed as she put each of her hands on either side of the Doctors face and pulled him down for a kiss, or rather more a snog. 

 Your jaw fell slack with a gasp and your eyes widened like saucers as they staggered around like that for a while until she let him go and his head flew backwards as a large grey cloud evaporated from his lungs.

 “Detox!” The Doctor rasped, once the cloud had all gone and he wiped the back of his hand over his mouth and chin. “I must do that more often! I mean the... detox.”

 “What’s going on?” You asked, finally making your presence known as you walked further into the room.

 “Someone poisoned the Doctor. We were giving him an antidote.” Donna explained.

 “Who would to that?” You asked.

 “The wasp. They know I’m onto them.” The Doctor said, reminding you that the wasp had a human form and was likely one of the guests. It also reminded you that you had found a clue.

 “Oh, Doctor! I forgot to tell you, I found something in the library that I think might be of interest.” You told him and Loki was already fishing the charred piece of paper from out of his waistcoat pocket.

 “Brilliant! What is it?” The Doctors eyes widened as Loki handed it to him. 

 “It was in the fireplace of the library, it seems someone wanted to destroy it.” You explained, as the Doctor put on his glasses and squinted at the word on the paper.

 “Maiden!” He shouted as if he had a realisation, causing everyone in the room to startle, except for Loki, who you realised wasn’t easily surprised. “What does that mean?” 

 Everyone sighed with disappointment, having thought the Doctor might have been onto something, only to realise he was as clueless as the rest of you. 

 “We’re still no further forward. Our nemesis remains at large.” Agatha remarked.

 ***

 A thunder clap made you jump and you put your palm over your chest to calm your spiked heartbeat. Night had fallen and with it it had brought a terrible storm. Lady Eddison had promised to host all her guests for the night and now you were all sat in her dining room around a large table, eating the starter of the meal which she had her cooks prepare.

 Naturally you were sat next to Loki, Donna and the Doctor were sat beside each other on the opposite side of the table and Lady Eddison at the head, while her husband, Hugh, was sat at the bottom. All the other guests occupied the rest of the dining chairs.

 “I don’t believe we have been introduced.” Miss Redmond, the young socialite, said to Loki from where she was sat next to him, on his opposite side to you.

 “We weren’t.” Loki stated, as he focused on his spoon full of soup as he brought it to his lips.

 “I’m Robina,” Miss Redmond smiled at Loki, and you watched closely from his other side, beginning to feel a heaviness creep on your chest, but you willed yourself to ignore it as you deemed it irrational, she was just being friendly.

 “I’m Loki,” He replied, before he leaned back in his chair so he was no longer blocking her view of you and placed his hand over yours which was resting on top of the dining table. “And this is my beloved.” He introduced you.

 As soon as Miss Redmonds eyes fell on you, her smile dropped and she returned to her soup. 

 “A terrible day for all of us. The Professor struck down. Lady Eddison’s maid Miss Chandrakala, cruelly taken from us. And yet, we still take dinner.” The Doctor commented. 

 “We are British, Doctor. What else must we do?” Lady Eddison answered him, holding a crystal glass filled with red wine.

 “Then someone tried to poison me.” The Doctor continued, “anyone of you had the chance to put cyanide in my drink.” Everyone at the table remained silent, as they became increasingly interested their meal in front of them. “But it rather gave me an idea.” 

 “And what would that be?” The Reverend, Arnold Golightly, boldly asked the Doctor.

 “Well. Poison. Drink up!” The Doctor casually stated, and everyone at the table immediately choked on their mouthfuls or dropped their spoons, yourself included as your eyes widened and stared at the Doctor, wondering if he had lost his mind.

 “I’ve laced the soup with pepper.” The Doctor clarified and your shoulders slumped with relief. “But the active ingredient of pepper is piperine. Traditionally used as an insecticide.”

 Your lips parted with realisation of the Doctors clever plan and you let your eyes roam around the dining table, trying to spot which one looked the most alarmed.

 “Anyone got the shivers?” The time lord taunted, before a thunderous clap blew the windows open which sent a chilling draft through the room and blew out all the candles, plunging the room into darkness. 

 You immediately tightened your hand around Loki’s, as they were still intertwined on the top of the dining table, when you heard a buzzing fill the pitch black room.

 “Listen! Listen!” The Doctor instructed, drawing all the other guests attentions to the sound of the wasps buzz.

 “No. It can’t be...” Lady Eddison whispered as a clash of lightning briefly lit up the room, your eyes frantically bounced around taking advantage of the fleeting moment of visibility but you could not see any six foot long wasp.

 “Nobody move!” The Doctor ordered, when he heard the legs of a chair push back against the hard wood floor beneath them, but they elected to ignore the Doctor as the sound of footsteps filled the room. “No, don’t! Stay where you are!” 

 Another clap of lightning allowed you the ability to see just long enough, to this time catch a glimpse of the giant wasp, hovering above the dining table and you screeched. 

 You felt Loki tugging on your hand and realised he was now standing and you quickly pushed yourself out of your chair too, once you were by his side, Loki began guiding you out of the dining room as urgently and as safely as he was able.

 “Out! Out! Out!” You heard the Doctor shout at everyone else from behind you, as multiple chairs screeched against the floor and the sound of more frantic footsteps filled the unlit room. 

 Loki soon found the door and opened it to reveal the lit hallway, allowing light to faintly leak into the shadowy dining room and soon the other guests were following yours and Loki’s lead. 

 Donna, the butler, and then Agatha and the Doctor, who snatched one of the decorative swords off of the wall for protection.

 “Well, we know the butler didn’t do it.” Donna gasped, out of breath.

 “Then who did?” The Doctor asked no one in particular, as he returned to the dining room with his sword raised and you all followed behind him.

 One of the waiters had found the switch to the lights and the room was once again illuminated, the first thing you realised upon entering was that the buzzing had stopped and the giant wasp was nowhere to be seen. The Reverend and Hugh were both on the floor, Hugh’s wheelchair was tipped over, he must’ve fallen out of it during the chaos. 

 “My jewellery.” Your eyes fell on Lady Eddison who was clasping at her now bare neck. “The firestone, it’s gone. Stolen!”

 Your attention was quickly diverted to Miss Redmond as she let out a scream, muffled from behind her own hand and it didn’t take you long to find the cause, as your eyes fell to Lady Eddison’s son, Roger, slumped face down into his bowl of soup with a dagger lodged between his shoulder blades.

 “My son. My child.” Lady Eddison cried, as she approached his lifeless body. Once she reached him, she leaned over him as she sobbed uncontrollably into his shoulder.

[dylawa]

So @allmightluver​ made this FANTASTIC analysis into All Might’s character [Here] and how the current Manga arc (chapters ~300-305) really shows how he’s going through it, and, if you have the time to read it, I by all means am begging you to go read and reblog that post instead. But, for my own small-brained sake, I asked for their permission to create an abbreviated version of their post (which is still “long,” but it’s not a whole fanfic’s length long. It’s brilliant as it is! I am just weak).

This literally is just a rephrased edition of a much larger, more in-depth piece; it’s the equivalent of reading a book’s synopsis over the book itself, so GO. READ IT.

But, to those that are still here, this is a Thing about All Might. Again, all of this is just rephrased from @allmightluver​‘s [original post]; I kept most of the original context; maybe I’ll do a follow-up reblog with my own thoughts.

From as early as Toshinori’s childhood, to as late as his young teenage years, literally all he ever wanted was to be a hero people could see and know, “Everything is going to turn out okay, no matter how bad the situation is.” Many other heroes of the time, and even into current day BNHA, generally had other reasons for pursuing the line of work, but not him. There was no yearning for fame, lust for money, or a power trip, or anything like that. The only thing he wanted out of being a hero, was to get people to smile. To feel safe.

It’s not common for a 14 year old to come to this conclusion, so it’s pretty safe to assume Toshinori didn’t have the best childhood, whether that’s in his own personal life, or he really just had no filter between his home life, and the world of heroes and villains. Being Quirkless probably played a huge factor in all of that.

But then, what about Izuku? He was Quirkless, right? Here’s the thing: He had All Might to look up to. Toshinori? Nobody. Yes, Izuku had some of the same roadblocks, but All Might inspired him to keep going. There isn’t much to imply that Toshinori had a similar relationship to Nana when they first crossed paths, and hero culture was less of a fashion show than it is currently.

Nana was only able to mentor Toshinori for a few short years before she was brutally murdered, right in front of him, and after that, all he had was Gran Torino, who wasn’t exactly benevolent teacher material-- vicious enough that, even as an older man, Toshinori had severe reservations about speaking with him again; but back then, he was one of the only people that knew the pain he went through in losing Nana, not to mention knowledge of One for All itself. And even then, Torino instructed him to leave the country, once again leaving Toshinori all alone to figure out things for himself until he could confidently return to Japan.

And when he did come back, he had his work cut out for him; there was a lot of work to be done to get society as “surface-level gleaming” as it was under All Might’s thumb, and we see some of that in Vigilantes; staying up for days on end to save people, stop villains, and repair structural damage. He even falls asleep mid-jump at one point, because that’s all the time for rest he can squeeze in. But, by this point, the power of One For All has lead the public, and even other heroes to believe, that All Might has it under control; he doesn’t need help, or at least, nothing more than what they’re already giving. And sure, Endeavor did his part, but that was for him; he just wanted to surpass All Might, not help him.

Now, after his gruesome injury, Toshinori no longer has that ability to save people like he used to. He spent years doing nothing but serving the world, fighting an unseen force that nearly tore him in half, to the point that that evil force should have died, and, even after all of that, thinking he had won, that it was over, Nighteye still promised his untimely demise, before abandoning him for continuing to push himself as his organs threatened to fall out of his body. But, even if AFO was “gone,” there was still a whole other world of villains to deal with; the worst threat was gone, but that didn’t mean the world was safe.

And the only person who could maintain that peace, was All Might. Now, he was under pressure of a ticking clock. So, he kept going.

Which, of course, turned him into what we saw in the beginning of the manga/anime. He has a whole slew of physical issues that are only exacerbated by his lack of self care in favor of pushing himself as hard as he can to keep up his hero work, and because of that, he’s completely ruined his health outside of the All Might persona. The man is practically rotting from the inside out, and, though at first no one knows it’s All Might, people on the street look at this ghastly figure, and they know it. And he knows they know it. Could you imagine the stress he swallows down, knowing, one day, they will find out the truth?

And, let’s not forget how, once Nighteye left, Toshinori was left alone with his paperwork. Eventually, Tsukauchi took over, but that was only because Toshinori let it slip in a moment of deep stress just who he was. But, in the timespan between, it was all up to Toshinori to handle those things, on top of his hero work, and the bare-minimum of whatever he was doing to keep himself alive.

This part, I’m just quoting from @allmightluver​‘s post verbatim:

“People blame him for not preparing society for his retirement, that he failed in passing on the torch so to speak, but in reality he did everything possible to keep society from falling for 40 years, doing all within his power just to keep things afloat. He is only one person. One human being, he can’t do everything despite trying to. Society failed All Might.”

Some people in fandom say he sucks as a teacher, but first of all, do you remember who he had as a teacher? I’d say he’s leaps and bounds above Torino. Not to mention, he’s never been a teacher before, and he never planned to pass on OFA again. And just because someone’s a bad teacher (which, he could be worse), doesn’t mean they’re not smart: he’s got a 6/6 intelligence score. Which definitely doesn’t help when Izuku does something to hurt himself with his Quirk that he gave to him. He could very well think it’s his own fault.

And we haven’t even touched up on Dave yet! This man literally staged a hostage situation so he could get his hands on banned technology to try to extend All Might’s time, and hurt so many people in the process. There’s another friend gone.

And then, All For One comes back. A man Toshinori swore he killed. And then he has to fight him in front of the world, having his weakness exposed, and then being told this villain is grooming Nana’s grandson-- someone Toshinori failed to save, didn’t even know needed saving, because he didn’t know the kid existed. And he doesn’t get time to process that; he has to pretend he’s fine, even while he’s shown in this failing human form to the world, to stop AFO once more at great personal cost.

And then, OFA leaves him.

And then he has to deal the the ordeal of being human while Bakugo blames himself for it, while Nighteye dies and confesses he’s happy after all these years to see him on his last words, while watching Endeavor struggle with one Nomu on live television, while watching Bakugo almost take over the burden of carrying OFA, and, despite all of these horrible things occurring... he still confesses to his acquaintance, Aizawa, that he’s “decided to live.” Like it’s another burden to take on. How can this man not be horribly suffering deep down inside? We don’t see the extent of it, because he trained for so long to keep it buried deep down, and it’s harder as Toshinori than it was as All Might, but he’s still got severe trauma and chronic physical conditions that will last the rest of his life. And, yes, people made him promise to live, but only he “decided” he would do so.

And then, he does research into the OFA holders, and finds a gruesome secret. He could have sealed Izuku’s fate to an early grave, not just because of the nature of hero work, but because OFA users have what seems to be a natural predisposition to die early (due to those who previously had quirks being given OFA having their lifespan shortened because of it; Toshinori doesn’t know the full truth yet).

And pretty much right after he finds out that information, the world implodes on itself. Villains win a critical fight, and run amok. People are dying. Heroes are quitting. They blame him. The heroes that do remain can barely handle the load. Some even die. AFO escapes prison, Izuku is in critical condition-- everything he worked for for forty years, disintegrates overnight. Everything he did to himself in pursuit of a peaceful society meant nothing. And, he can feel his vestige within One For All, which isn’t a good sign.

Time is running out.

And he may not even die happy.

“People don’t credit All Might enough for everything he’s done. Most don’t realize the sacrifices he’s made. His character is so unbelievably profound and deep, it’s more than just the “I am here!” people focus on. He’s a deeply troubled, layered, complex character. And I can’t find fault within him.”

[lillia-leonhartfav]

Lost in the Pages, Birds of Paradis Chapter One

Previous Chapter Here.

847

"Man, I thought Shadis was gonna kill potato girl." Connie said with a sigh in his voice, closing his eyes as he leaned over the wooden beam before him. Standing up on the deck of one of the cabins designated for sleeping, right besides him remains none other than Marco Bodt.

Behind him? Mina Carolina, Eren Yeager, and Armin Arlert.

"I know, what a hell of a first day." Eren said from behind, making his way over to Marco and Connie. The two boys made space for the brunette, as he came between them. Armin's eyes didn't falter away from the sight of the brown ponytail running at a distance, feeling sympathy for Sasha in the moment as the sun pelted it's set above her head.

"It's almost funny, being told to run to the sunset didn't seem to bother her nearly as much as losing meal privileges for the next five days." Eren went on, as Mina walked out from behind Connie and Marco, standing next to Eren and leaning against the same beam of wood they'd all been gradually adding their weight to.

"She's from Dauper, if I remember right that's a small hunting village up in the mountains." Connie made it known what he knew about Sasha, the bare minimum given from her previous introduction before everyone. Eren's eyes shifted away from Sasha, and onto a wagon that was being pulled up the hill of the cadet grounds, towards the fences that should mean only one thing.

"What's that over there?" Pointing a dinger in the direction, Mina tweaked her eyes over for a good look. "Those are drop outs." She said in response to his question, "But it's only the first day." Armin tagged along in the conversation, walking across the boards of the porch to get over to Eren and Mina.

"That's how it is. You can't handle the pressure? You gotta leave." Everyone shifted their eyes towards Eren, Connie lulled his head over, and pushed more of his weight forwards into the railing before him. Marco loosened up his stance, and pulled himself away from the wood at the sight of Connie pushing in more. A soft smile on his lips as he allowed the shorter boy more space, not wanting to test this wood more than it's already been pushed.

"They'd rather pull plants than fight." As Eren finished, Marco found himself pulling away from Connie and towards Eren, lifting up his hand as he spoke. "I know about some of us, but you never mentioned where you were from, Eren." A simple question, returned with a light smile on Eren's lips as he reached out for Armin. Plopping a firm grasp on the shoulder of his friend, a firm shake as he looked back over to Marco.

"The same place he's from, from Shinganshina." Connie's eyes widened, and a lump in Marco's throat was swallowed. Mina gave Eren a double take, as Armin just stood there with his friends hand on his shoulder.

"Oh— well, that means-"

"You saw it!" Connie cut off Marco, who was the more uncomfortable of the two upon hearing that initial statement. More thrown off by Connie's outright state of immediate questioning, the assumptions that come along with saying he's from Shinganshina.

Titans.

"You were there that day!" Marco quickly turned on his heel, a bead of sweat making it past his cheekbone as he snagged an index finger towards Connie. "Hey, c'mon-"

"The colossal one— did you see it?!" Ignoring Marco's outright attempt at getting Connie to avoid digging up a strangers trauma, especially one with titans. Connie's eyes were wide with curiosity, as Eren's voice softly dropped before he got the chance to use it again.

"Yeah. Yeah I did." Eren replied softly, removing his hand from Armin's shoulder, and putting it next to his other hand on the beam of the wooden barrier before them. Mina exhaled with a nervous air, as everyone around them slowed their conversation to a a stop.

In that moment of uncomfortable silence, Mina Carolina's mind wandered back to the girl who she stood beside during the initial orientation for the cadets of the 104th training corps. Who knows if it was an attempt to lighten the mood, or to just say what most people had previously thought about. One way or another, Eren and Armin's attention went straight to her as soon as she opened her mouth to speak.

"There's a girl here from Stohess." Marco's eyes moved over to Mina, a glimmer of thankfulness in them at the changing of the topic, regardless of the fact that he knows they'll be on it again just as quickly as it was dropped. But Marco didn't care, he joined in on Mina's conversation in the hopes it would be enough to keep Connie's interest at bay temporarily.

"I heard she's from a military family, think that she'll be any good?" Marco asked, as Eren brought his hands up above his head. Holding onto his elbows, and arching his back.

"Probably just trying to find an easy way into the Military Police, if you ask me." Armin brought his hand up to his friends shoulder, and gave it a subtle push. Not hard enough to knock Eren off his feet, but hard enough to get him to look over at his friend.

"What was that supposed to be for?" Pulling both his arms down off the top of his head, and crossing them over his chest. Armin gave a blank stare to Eren, and shook his head.

"You don't know her, none of us do. I bet we're not the only one's making assumptions about her based off of what little we know." Trying to get the point in to Eren that being so upfront about judgments and ideas about a person isn't the right thing to do.

"Not to mention, it might be uncomfortable to explain that thought to her yourself if she caught you." Armin added, pointing an index finger out behind Eren to get him to look. Turning around on his heels, the wood under his boot creaking into the weight of his turn. Eyes landing firm on two figures, as they walked towards the circle of cabins spread out among the training grounds.

"Right, sure." Eren said softly, removing his hands from over his chest, and rubbing the back of his neck. He turned to Connie, Mina, and Marco. Said something about heading inside to the mess hall, while Armin kept his eyes out and stared at you from the distance.

 You kept walking towards them all, unknowing of Armin's eyes unable to look away from you at the Cabin. Making his way closer to the beam, as everyone around him on the deck of the cabin gradually moved away. Heading towards the mess hall, Eren piped up and shouted something towards Armin as he only now became aware of his lack of presence along with him.

"Armin! You're gonna come, right?"

"In a minute, just give me a second." Waving off his friend, earning a shrug of the shoulders as Eren made off on his way, with Marco and the others with him the whole time. Clasping both his hands firmly over the wooden beam, fingers curled right over it.

Soft, e/c eyes would do anything but look right at him. Unaware of the blonde boy staring at you, trying to pick apart the pieces of who you just might be out of his own curiosity. Walking with a light smile on your face, holding up a casual conversation with a taller male next to you.

He's older than Eren and I, that's for sure. Maybe by two years, at the most.

Adorned in a green shirt and brown pants for his plain clothes, broad shoulders and short blonde hair. Parted in the middle, two little strands sticking out on his forehead that were just a touch longer than the rest of his length. He stood taller than you, laughing at something you said out of Armin's ear shot.

Even by the clothes you wore, it was obvious you came from a life that not many people here would be able to envision themselves having. Armin's weight shifted forwards, propping his arm up on the surface of the beam below him. Bending one of his knees, and dipping his face into one of his hands. Propping a chin up in his palm, as his eyes followed you.

A long, baby blue skirt that reached the length of your knees. You'd occasionally pull it up, but the skirt would drop back down to your hips and allow it's hem to kiss at your knees again. Like it was too big for you, as if the clothes were hand-me-downs.

It's texture looked like silk, and each pleat looked like it was set in permanently, like crisp folds on parchment. You wore a white blouse, top buttons undone. Nothing in the line of the collar, popped up against your neck. Hair tied back into a low bun, save for a couple stray strands of h/c that stuck out behind your ears, hairline and nape of the neck.

Then your form became much more visible, and the faint glimmer of your voice could be heard as you got close enough to interact with. Armin's eyes widened at the realization, darting away from you and the boy by your side as soon as he'd understood he didn't want to get caught staring at you.

He doesn't even quite fully understand why he stayed back in the first place, but his feet just didn't give him the option to leave as soon as you stepped in his eyesight for the very first time. Placing his palm on the side of his face, hearing you laugh at something the person besides you said this time. More clear, not a single ring on the water of your voice.

Smooth.

"Alright, Reiner, I appreciate you showing me the way here." You said so politely, naming the boy next to you on your way to the mess hall. Armin's feet felt like they were glued in place, as Reiner spoke back up again in response to you while passing Armin himself.

"No problem at all, don't even mention it. I don't mind saving a spot for you either—"

"That's fine actually, thank you but I've already got a seat." Armin held his breath, and waited for the two of you to completely pass him. Letting go of the beam, and holding onto his chest. He picked his head up and put it back in the direction of you, and watched as you went up the steps to the mess hall one by one.

But you didn't go in when the other one did. You stayed on the raised deck of the building, and made your way over to the wooden beam railing. Placing your hands around it, and loosening up your shoulders. Staring out for a few moments, your eyes latching onto various different faces.

"Is she looking for someone?" Armin mumbled to himself, feeling like he's in too deep to just leave now.

After all, this is the girl who's name was at the forefront of everyone's mind earlier.

Even he's curious, and he's not quite so sure about what to make of himself for that, and how he's stood here this whole time.

Your shoulders sunk down, and your eyes drooped down into a disappointed gaze. A soft frown took over your lips, as you shook your head and turned around. Hand dragging along the railing, right before shoving it back down by your side. Walking into the doors of the mess hall, leaving Armin to wonder what that was about.

And it wasn't even any of his business.

But watching you walk into the mess hall was his sign that it was time to go in. He'd kept Eren and the other's waiting long enough.

[lovelivingmydreams]

Join on a grand adventure

Continuation to this (takes place before the last chapter) 

Roman let his brother and Virgil into his room, almost vibrating with excitement, but he kept his cool. This might be the last time Virgil agreed to let him pick something out for him, and he was not going to risk him changing his mind now.

“I've been planning this trip for ages! It just never seemed like the right moment and I didn’t want you to think I was asking because I felt I had to… you're going to love it! But first!”

Roman turned to his brother. “What are you going to wear?” he asked gesturing to Remus' appearance.

“What? Not good enough for your royal subjects?” Remus drawled haughtily while striking a dainty pose.

Roman chuckled. “It's fine, for everyday clothes. But this is your big entrance. Don't you want something with a little extra flair?” Roman questioned.

“Well… first impressions are important,” Remus nodded in agreement looking over his usual attire.

The people of the kingdom deserved a little more pazas after his long absence. And Roman basically just gave him his blessing to outshine him today. That would likely never happen again.

So…

Remus snapped his fingers and suddenly Virgil and Roman were met with a…rather dapper ensemble. At first glance at least.

On second inspection what they thought was sequence on his black vest were reptilian scales. The vest itself seemed to be genuine silk. It had leather sequencing on the shoulders, elbows, cuffs and waist. The shoulder patches were lined with soft black feathers.

Black pants disappeared into black dragon leather boots and the fabric of his sash was intertwined with thorny vines.

It looked good honestly. He could’ve done a lot grosser, but he took their plea to behave himself seriously it seemed.

Roman nodded his approval. “Splendid. Although, if I may?” Roman lifted his hand with a questioning look. “You can get rid of it if you don't like it?” he assured him.

“Let me have it Romano.” And with a roll of Roman’s eyes and wave of his hand Remus now wore a green Cape and a fierce emerald embezzled crown.

Remus looked at the result nodding his approval. “I like it.”

“I figured we could match a little,” Roman offered as he waved his hand again and gave himself a red Cape and a crown decorated with rubies. His outfit stayed largely the same, baring the addition of a sheeted broadsword at his hip.

“Similar but different you know?” Remus nodded, happy that his brother was no longer avoiding being associated with him. He missed this stuff.

“Alright you two.” The twins turned to Virgil who'd up until  then been observing them quietly while sitting on Roman's vanity.

In the real world, the poor thing wouldn’t have been able to support the weight. But in the mindscape it was fine.

Once he saw he had their attention he jumped off, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

“Let's get this over with,” he sighed. “What you got for me? I remember I used to wear chainmail and this big cloak?”

Roman chuckled as he remembered that even back then, Virgil had tended to go for oversized clothing.

“Yes…when we were kids,” Roman grinned, receiving a decisive nod from Remus. “Bare minimum effort won't cut it this time Virgie. Not for my big day.”

Virgil groaned. “I’m regretting every decision I’ve made that led me here.”

He took a deep breath and got ready to be…. Ugh, changed. Princey better be having the best day of his life.

And that thought made him relax. He had agreed to this to let Roman have his fun. Today was clearly important to him. And this was as good a way as any to show that between them were somewhat back to how they used to be.

When he opened his eyes he was faced with a full length mirror.

He was wearing some chainmail but it only covered his chest and back. And even that was hidden from view by the royal purple vest with a mix of the twin's coats of arms in his colors over his heart. A black, purple patched, hooded cloak was held in place by a pin bearing his signature storm cloud.

There were steel cuffs around his wrists, decorated with Amethysts.

The same type of stone that graced the hilt of the sword at his hip and the twin daggers he found on his back. And the armored plates with intricate designs, bound around his knees and elbows.

He looked kind of cool honestly. But if he told Princey that he'd never live it down.

“Well it's not as bad as I thought it would be,” Virgil admitted reluctantly causing Roman to squeal in delight.

Remus let out a cackle. Everyone knew that this was Virgil's way of saying he loved it.

“Well! Shall we? A grand adventure awaits!” Roman declared eagerly as soon as he got over his relief at getting Virgil's approval.

His brother and best friend nodded as they all turned towards the big, golden door to the imagination.

“We’ll arrive a bit outside  of the kingdom but don't worry, I’ve arranged for transportation,” Roman grinned. The doors opened and door the first time in ages the trio stepped through.

Roman, Remus and Virgil are open for asks.

Tag for this story is: “ask the trouble trio”

Warning you can change the story by asking or not asking certain questions.

I'll start a new tag list for this project. Let me know if you want to be on it.

Next part

Outfits

[ruffboijuliaburnsides]

voiceless!Jaskier AU (pt 9)

FINALLY MORE WORDS ARRIVE!!! Only about half the chapter, but it’s here, and the first hint of properly coming out of the early heavy angst and into something fluffier! :D I hope you guys enjoy it.

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8) (Part 10) Now on AO3

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

Their teacher was a middle-aged halfling woman named Rose, and she was an absolute terror.

They took up residence in a boarding house of sorts in the town they were directed to, that was thankfully not built to dwarven proportions in all respects, and they did various chores and other needed tasks to pay their way in between lessons.

It wasn't really anything like what Jaskier was expecting, to be honest. He'd expected... something else. Something harder, he thinks. He'd expected to be slaving away over repeated motions and confusion, and watching Geralt apply himself only when necessary. In retrospect, that was unfair of him to assume, but it remained in his head for some weeks until it really sank in.

Geralt wasn't going to leave. Geralt wasn't planning to leave, at least not without Jaskier. They both worked as general laborers for their room and board, and Geralt worked almost more diligently than Jaskier at learning to sign, and stayed and stayed and stayed.

And spoke and spoke and spoke.

It could've just been practice. Throwing himself into learning to sign, so he could understand Jaskier, would make sense for Geralt to practice as often as he could, the same way he learned to fight or to identify monsters or to brew his potions. But as they gained knowledge and vocabulary, Jaskier found that Geralt would sign things that were... unnecessary.

Things like: [That boy keeps mooning over the blacksmith's daughter. He doesn't stand a chance, her attention's on the laundress.]

Or: [Do you want me to stew or roast the venison tonight?]

Or: [I saw it and thought of you.]

Or: [That cloud looks like a rabbit.]

Or: [I don't know why, I just thought it would make you smile.]

Rose put them through their paces, adding and adding to their vocabularies every day, and telling them that they shouldn't use any other form of communication if they could help it. Geralt shouldn't speak (not a difficult prospect, admittedly) and Jaskier shouldn't write (much more difficult). But... it helped. They learned, and Jaskier found it all getting easier and easier, found even poetic thoughts coming faster and looser from his hands. It was like being freed, and as he learned, he found that the suffocating feeling of his words pressing in his throat came less and less often.

The most unexpected part of it all, though, was still the fact that Geralt was actually... talkative, like this. Jaskier spent months just drowning in Geralt's words. Apparently making speech something physical, rather than verbal, was all it took to unlock Geralt's thoughts and opinions. Rose explained as they learned how much facial expressions and the emphaticness of the signs themselves were part of the language, and Jaskier found himself graced with an abundance of expression.

When Geralt was angry or irritated, he got that crease between his eyebrows and his signs were sharp and small, the bare minimum of movement to express his thought. When he was feeling things strongly, his signs got bigger and more expansive. When he was teasing Jaskier, there was a looseness to him, and a quirk of his lips. It was overwhelming, and Jaskier couldn't quite believe it was really happening.

But it was. But it did. It wasn't often, admittedly, but it was more often than had ever happened before. Geralt seemed almost glad to let go of any sort of audible communication, as they grew in skill, and the two of them signed... a lot.

Jaskier was feeling a lot.

Geralt said, comparatively, a lot.

They'd spent just over a year in Mahakan before Jaskier's grasp of sign met whatever threshold Geralt was comfortable with.

[If we go now,] Geralt signed, even though he could speak, and somehow Jaskier always came back to that, and how uncertain he felt about Geralt foregoing speech when it was right there for him to use, [do you feel you know enough to speak the way you want?]

It was the most thoughtful, awful, obnoxious, amazing thing anyone had ever asked him, and Jaskier wasn't sure how he felt, to be honest, but he wasn't willing to let things fall to the wayside because of him.

[If we don't know the official Mahakan sign for a word,] Jaskier signed back, [then we can make our own.] It was a lot to ask, but Jaskier wanted to travel. He loved Rose and he loved this little village, but it wasn't where either of them were meant to be. He wanted what they knew to be enough.

It was enough for Geralt, too, apparently. The next day, Geralt packed their things on Roach, Jaskier crouched to kiss Rose on the cheek and signed his thank yous even as she tried to shove extra supplies in his hands with verbal admonitions to write her and come back to visit someday if their travels brought them back this way.

It was strange, being back on the road after so long, but it felt like coming home. Geralt rode Roach, Jaskier walked next to them, and even though he couldn't hum a tune or play his lute Jaskier felt a weight lift off his chest that he hadn't realized was still there. He sped up a bit, so he was in front of Roach, scanned for any large rocks or dips in the road he might trip on, and when he felt like there was at least a short stretch of relatively smooth road, he turned to face Geralt, flicking a little wave to be sure he had Geralt's attention before he started to sign.

[So what's the plan? Do you think there will be any contracts for you before we leave Mahakam?]

"Watch the road, Jaskier," Geralt rumbled, but there wasn't a hint of bite to it. Jaskier was just too far away to tell if he had that tiny quirk of his lips that meant he was smiling, but it seemed likely. The thought of it made a spot under Jaskier's chest feel warm and safe. He rolled his eyes melodramatically, though, and threw up his hands in surrender as he turned back to face the road.

It was funny almost, how over a year ago, Jaskier would've assumed the conversation was over. And it might've been, too, if he was being honest with himself. But now the admonition was simply acknowledging that Jaskier wasn't deaf, Geralt could speak perfectly adequately, and if Jaskier tripped on a loose stone, he'd fall flat on his ass and possibly rip his trousers.

"Probably won't be contracts until we reach Aedirn," Geralt said behind him, and Jaskier couldn't quite hide the smile that stretched across his face at the sound. "Earn a bit of coin to tide us over. Then we start looking for a cure."

Geralt sounded firm, but Jaskier grimaced despite himself, pleased mood gone and a tired sort of frustration sinking into his bones.

They'd had the argument a lot, in recent weeks. While Jaskier was absolutely not opposed to finding a way to get his voice back, so much of the pain of having lost it was mitigated by being able to sign. Not all of it, he thought, pushing back thoughts of his lute, sitting largely unused in its case on Roach's saddle. He'd managed to pull it out a few times over the last year, to check it for damage, clean it, so a quick tuning to make sure it was at least close to properly tuned, to make sure it was ready. He hadn't played, but...

But mostly he was all right, and it was easier to get by and not feel like he was drowning in unsaid words. And in Jaskier's opinion, it would be easier if they worked more, saved up the money, and then went looking when they ran into a promising lead. But Geralt kept saying that the most important thing was finding a way to get Jaskier's voice back, and damn the effort. Which was a nice sentiment that had meant everything to Jaskier when they'd first come to Mahakam, but now it seemed reckless and silly.

Now he wasn't sure what he wanted. He wanted to feel comfortable playing again. He wanted to stay practiced in his playing, if not in his singing. He wanted to at least write the melodies of a song that he would sing one day when he had his voice back. He wanted his voice back. He wanted his voice, he wanted his music.

He wanted Geralt.

But mostly at this moment he wanted to not run himself ragged over the ensuing months trying to keep up with Geralt's attempts to frantically find a cure for something that he could, for the time being, bear with relative ease. Following leads was one thing, moving at a breakneck pace to try to find leads, which is what he was pretty sure Geralt intended to do, was a whole other thing.

But it was a conversation best saved for when Jaskier could talk at length without having to walk backwards. He could try again when they made camp.

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8) (Part 10) Now on AO3

[keeroo92]

Savior, Bloodstain, Hellfire, Shadow Ch4

~~~Previous Chapter~~~

Chapter 4: The Silence of Subtlety Part 1

---Reader---

Upon the usage of the word subtlety, the gears in your mind went to work. The realization that V’s sandals would be a problem took no great leap of deduction; with every step, there was an audible slap of the sole hitting pavement. The cane… that would be difficult. How to muffle the sharp clack that accompanied its every impact? A rough idea was taking shape, but you would need to examine the cane up close to refine it.

You took his sandals, and he watched you with a curious expression as you wrapped a layer of soft bandage around the soles of them, checking their traction every few revolutions. With a smile, you handed them back and he gave you his cane hesitantly. Looking into his emerald eyes, you saw how difficult it was for him to surrender his only physical weapon to you.

“I won’t damage it, I promise.”

His hand relaxed, allowing you to take the cane. He watched you intently as you examined one of his most prized possessions.

You marveled at the craftsmanship – the cane was beautiful. The handle glinted in the sunlight as you held it close to your eyes. The part he rested his weight on was smooth, almost polished through usage, the silver warm in your hand from his palms. A pattern of geometric indentations extended down from the handle, blending a few inches below the joint to form the sharp stake he used as both a walking aid and a deadly weapon.

“Do you use the cane itself to summon or is it all from you?” you asked, gears still turning in your mind.

“I don’t need the cane to summon, only to walk. Sometimes.”

“I’m going to make you a removable sheath for it, so if we run into trouble you can still do your thing. I need to go grab a couple things,” you said, handing him back his cane and standing. You’d always appreciated Red Grave City’s attention to greenery, but you were even more thankful than usual as you spotted several bushes and a tree that should suit your needs.

The ground beneath the tree featured nothing of use, but a young branch looked promising. It was too high for you to reach and there weren’t any low enough branches for you to climb the tree, much to your frustration. You glanced at V where he watched you from across the courtyard and waved him over. He joined you quickly, his limp not troubling him much so far today.

“Yes?” he inquired.

“Can Shadow get that branch, the little skinny one? You see it?”

He nodded, flicking his arm out. Shadow appeared beside him in a storm of black and shifted into her now familiar spinning blade form to cut deeply into the trunk and fell the tree entirely. She landed lightly, shifting back to her panther form just as the tree creaked and began to fall toward you and V. He seized your hand and pulled you against his chest, gliding out of the tree’s path as it crashed to the ground. He held you close a moment longer, making you acutely aware of every breath he took as his chest rose and fell against you. He released you suddenly, and you almost clung to him to feel it just a moment longer.

You stepped away rapidly, eyes wide as you turned to the tree on the ground.

“Are you all secretly lumberjacks or do you and Nero just hate trees?”

V released out a bark of laughter and started walking back to the bench, Shadow following close behind him. You found the branch you spotted before without too much trouble, carefully bracing yourself against the trunk to snap it off. After a few tries you gave up, pouting in V’s direction as he chuckled at your efforts but sent Shadow to help you again.

That time her head was all that shifted, growing to the size of a large beach ball. The image of her enlarged head was a sharp contrast against her still normal-sized body.

How does she not tip over from the weight imbalance? Maybe her mass stays the same?

Wait, out of all the weird shit I’ve seen lately, THAT’S what I’m thrown off by?

I’ve lost my mind.

You pulled your attention back to the now, focusing once again on Shadow as she leaned forward and snapped her powerful jaws around the branch you chose, easily separating it from the trunk. Her head returned to its normal size in a flash of black. She tilted it to the side, and you could almost hear her asking you a question.

“Yes, please stay for a moment. I might need your help again.”

She politely sat, exactly like a house cat. She started grooming her paws as you got to work on the branch. It had good strength, not too flexible. You smiled in satisfaction, carefully stripping the smaller nubs and sticks off the piece of wood you would use.

You picked up the long piece of wood and brought it over to where V waited, Shadow following you patiently. He smiled at you, already knowing what you needed and held the cane out to you. You laid it next to the branch on the ground and moved it around, trying to find the perfect length of wood to fit the intricate metal. Using your dagger, you made small marks into the branch to mark the final area.

“Shadow, can you please cut this area out for me?” you asked the huge panther, backing away so she had enough room. She bared her teeth in a strange approximation of a grin and shifted back into the bladed form, dashing across the wood repeatedly to slice it clean through for you. She morphed back and followed you up to the fresh-cut wood as you inspected it.

“Thanks, Shadow! That’s perfect!”

She let out a soft purr, closing her eyes. You reached over and gave her a few pats before she returned to sitting nearby. With the wood prepared, you gathered the other materials you’d need from your bag and got to work.

First, you wrapped the blade in medical tape, sticky side facing out. Next, you added a layer of bandages to insulate the blade from any scratching from the wood, covering the tip carefully. You affixed the wood and wrapped another layer around the blade, securing the wood within. You pulled the sheath off an inch to test it, and it moved well.

Now for the final step.

You found a seam on your shirt and carefully picked at the threads with your fingernails. With the hem prepared, you called Shadow over and explained what you needed her to do. She held still, jaws wide open as you positioned the cloth over one of her lethally sharp bottom teeth. With your command, she closed her jaws a mere inch from your skin and left a perfect set of holes. You gave her another few pats before taking the fabric and ripping the bottom inch of your shirt off.

Shadow serves as a hole puncher on the sheath itself as well, leaving two holes on either side of it for you to thread the strip of fabric through. With the cane still tucked inside, you brought the sheathe back to the poet with a smile.

“I’ll need your help for this bit. I need you to hold your cane the way you would if you were walking while I add the handle,” you explained to him and he nodded pleasantly, positioning his hand with care on the handle of his strangely sheathed cane.

It took several long minutes of weaving the fabric around his hand, careful to leave a little wiggle room for his comfort, but you got the job done with a minimum of distraction ogling his lovely long fingers.

“Ok, try it.”

V gave his cane an experimental twirl. He smiled as the fabric handle easily glided around his hand. He tapped the end of the blade against the ground and you grinned as it made almost no noise. Finally, he wrapped his thumb around the handle under the strap and opened his fingers, releasing the strap entirely. He flicked his arm and the sheath went flying, easily restoring his ability to finish demons off using the blade.

He turned to you with an incredulous grin on his handsome features.

“Haha! Nico, eat your heart out!” you shouted, running up to him and without thinking wrapped him in a triumphant hug. The sound of his chuckle in your ear and his free arm wrapping around you brought you back to yourself, and you tried to step away but his arm held you in place.

You paused, then embraced him again, holding him close and feeling his chest rise and fall with each breath like before. Your elation from your success faded as you felt him rest his chin on top of your head like a shelf, and you lost yourself in the feeling that rose within you like the tide.

Your racing thoughts slowed, the muscles not required to stay standing went limp, and you turned your head to rest it fully against his chest. You could hear his heartbeat; powerful and steady. As you listened, it slowed from its racing tempo to a normal thump-thump, thump-thump. You felt an emotion you hadn’t experienced in many, many years – contentment.

After a moment his arm released you. He looked down at you with an inscrutable look adorning his features. You thought you saw a tear fall from his right eye but couldn’t be sure as his hair hid it from further observation.

What in the world…?

“Y/N… thank you,” he said, and you could tell he was referring to far more than the sheath. He took another step back, his sandals muffled as he visibly composed himself.

“We should go,” he reminded you and returned Shadow to his tattoos, the section she lived in darkening as she settled. You nodded, swallowing the mystified feeling his reaction to a simple hug had elicited within you. You quickly packed up the supplies you left out from your project, and together you set out, heading for the demon-infested area Griffon showed you as silently as possible.

---V---

No one had hugged him since he was a child.

No, no one has hugged Vergil since he was a child. I have never been a child. Therefore, I have never received a hug at all .

It was a distinction he struggled to believe, but one he thought to himself anyway, hoping it was the truth. He didn’t want to return to that life of loneliness and lust for power. He wanted to be better than that.

It’s not my choice to make. My end is inevitable.

His steps were close to silent as he followed you, the quiet deafening in its loudness. The pair of you had left the campus and were now traveling through a long stretch of shops and restaurants, sandwich board signs scattered like a spilled bag of marbles. He read the signs and wondered what the food in the advertisements might taste like. A seafood bisque was his focus when a sound reached him, breaking the tense silence. He accompanied you as you ducked into the closest shop, the glass doors already shattered. He stretched his fingers, preparing to unsheathe his cane as you hid behind the registers.

Adrenaline rushed through him, making his heart beat faster and his mind process more of the environment. He saw the flimsy black tables and chairs spread through the little deli you and he had hidden within, an obstacle if fighting should break out. A foul smell filled the air, similar to rotting food. The scent would help hide the pair of you. Shadows covered much of the back of the shop, the electricity being gone from this area working in favor of the two forms hiding desperately.

He waited, bracing for battle as the sound grew closer. It sounded like metal dragging against asphalt and he carefully peeked one eye around the corner to assess the threat. A chilling sight greeted him; a massive demon, grotesque and putrid, dragging two monstrous blades behind it. He knew the pair of you could likely defeat it, but the delay and potential injuries were unacceptable. He ducked back down and waited as the sound slowly, leisurely faded away, the demon moving on in its hunt for prey. It took far longer than he would’ve liked.

He let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, adjusting his grip on his cane to a more comfortable position now that the threat had passed. The adrenaline faded, leaving him feeling weary from the extended period of being on guard and ready to fight for both your lives. The two of you silently exited the shop, continuing ever onward.

Not even a full block later, you signaled him to hide and once again you and V ducked into the nearest building with open doors, this time a tall apartment complex. He stayed in the shadows, leaning heavily on his cane as you took the risk of peeking through the glass from behind your hiding spot behind the wall next to the door. You jerked back and he could see the fear on your face as you pointed up to signal that you must go upstairs. He nodded, looking behind him to locate a method to ascend as you caught your breath again. There was a hallway around the corner and he met your eyes, signaling you to follow when he instructed you.

From his location in the shadows, he watched the street as a hulking behemoth waddled its way forward, a horde of Empusa surrounding it. Its armor clanked with every step, and as its foot began to fall he signaled you to move. You stepped quietly to the hallway, your sensible shoes nearly silent on the grimy tile. As the behemoth took another step, he forced his body to move despite its complaints and joined you.

You gave him a shaky smile as he limped around the corner and the pair of you stepped carefully down the hallway. There were cheap wooden doors on either side of the beige-walled hall; neither of you opened a single one. At the end of the hall was the sign for stairs, dimly illuminated with the light coming through the small window behind it. You and V took up positions on either side of the door as you opened it. The door squealed, and you froze, motionless as you both listened intently, both of you tense and waiting to spring into action.

Nothing… we’ve been lucky so far. I hope our luck holds.

You held up your free hand, three fingers extended. He watched as you counted down and as the last finger fell, you flung the door wide, getting past all the squeals as quickly as possible. He nodded at you and stepped through the doorway, you just behind him. The blessedly carpeted stairwell gave you both an added layer of security. There was a miniscule window letting through just enough light to see with and he began to ascend, you following along.  The pair of you climbed three flights of stairs without incident, reaching the roof access.

This time, V opened the door; it was mercifully silent and after allowing himself a moment for his eyes to adjust to the bright sunlight again he proceeded. The roof was huge, large gray boxes speckling it here and there marking ventilation shafts. Beneath his muffled steps the ground was filthy; the roof hadn’t received a visitor in some time. Once you were both on the rooftop, you risked a few words.

“What now?” you whispered softly as the pair of you crouched behind one of the gray boxes.

V looked over the nearby lip of the building, seeing the Empusa horde still foraging. There was plenty for them to feed on nearby; they wouldn’t be leaving soon. He clenched his teeth in frustration. An idea formed in his mind and he checked the neighboring roof’s height. It was a full story shorter than the building the two of you had climbed. He returned to you quickly, already preparing himself for what came next.

“I’m summoning Griffon to carry us over,” he murmured close to your ear. Your eyes went wide at the idea.

“Has he ever done that before?”

Determination filled his emerald eyes as he shook his head. He focused his energy, trying to communicate with Griffon the need for silence, crossed his fingers and flicked his arm out, praying the loud-mouthed demon wouldn’t reveal them to the foes below.

~~~Next Chapter~~~

[milkshake-at-pops]

Tour of the Heart:Chapter Four

chapter 3/masterpost/chapter 5

let us know if you want to be tagged! and enjoy the fic

Television appearances were part of the big life Archie had always wanted, but it didn’t mean he had to enjoy them. Fortunately, this was a short interview, just a youtube video to go with an article. He’d barely be on stage for an hour. Still, the cameras and lights were a lot for Arch. He was a former jock, after all, and the spotlight was never his strong suit.

Veronica gave him a smile from her chair, keeping her head perfectly still so that the makeup team could do their job. Archie was trapped in a similar situation, trying not to sneeze at the powders. Well, if he could sing and play guitar onstage, talking in front of a camera shouldn’t be too difficult.

A woman with a high blond ponytail pulled up a chair from an empty makeup stand to sit in front of them. “Hi, I’m Betty Cooper and I’ll be interviewing you both today.”

“Betty Cooper? Correct me if I’m wrong, but I might know you from somewhere,” Archie said, trying to puzzle what it was about her that was familiar. She didn’t look like anyone from Chicago, but maybe Littleton? Definitely a small-town vibe, and he hadn’t talked to people from his childhood home in years.

Betty looked surprised by the fact, her mouth dropping into a small o. “I think our mothers might have known each other… you’re Mary’s son, right?, I’m Alice Cooper’s daughter.” Something in her tone made Archie think that she was planning on this, but Veronica cut off his response.

“Sorry to interrupt your reunion, but aren’t you supposed to be going over the questions we’ll be asked and how much we can promote the tour? I really want to know what the planned length for this segment is,” Veronica said, and Archie realized they were on in ten minutes. Thank goodness for Veronica and her ability to keep things on track.

“Oh, right!” Betty didn’t look too happy with being asked to do her job. “It will be a three to five minute segment, and we want to discuss the tour as well as what goes on behind the scenes. Our readers are very interested in your…friendship.”

“Sounds great,” Archie said, giving her the smile that earned him more than one eggplant emoji comment. “I haven’t seen you in forever, since middle school, I think?”

“It’s been a while, yeah. A lot has happened since you left for the Windy City,” Betty said, smiling. “I can’t believe our paths are crossing again, after so long! Are you excited about the tour?”

“Yeah, but um… shouldn’t we save those questions for the interview?” Archie said, noticing the look Veronica was shooting him. She was all business during things like this, and this was a big interview. Him socializing was probably getting on her nerves.

“You’re right,” Betty said, thinking for a second. “How is your mother? I’m pretty sure I’m not supposed to ask that during the interview.” She smiled, and Archie returned it. Veronica half-listened, playing on her phone to distract herself.

“She’s doing well, just got a promotion at the firm,” Archie said, “She’s really busy lately, but she says she’ll still find time to see me on tour.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful, I loved your mother.” Betty’s eyes were wide, and she looked from Archie to Veronica as if thinking about something very different from Archie’s mother. In an undertone, she asked, “Friend to friend, are you and Veronica-?”

“-We’re on in five,” Veronica interrupted, shooting both Betty and Archie a glare. “And for the record, I’d prefer we keep questions about our personal lives to a minimum. This is a promotion for the tour, after all.”

“Thank you, Veronica. Anyways, Archie, how was high school?” Betty managed to keep up the small talk with Archie until they were on, much to Veronica’s displeasure.

Veronica and Archie got their own microphones and took their seats on the small white couch. Betty sat next to them, fumbling with her microphone as she sat down.

“Hey, you guys should um, sit closer together,” she said to Archie. “Headset says it’s not clear who’s the celebrity.” Veronica didn’t think Betty had said anything into her small earpiece in all the time she had been talking to Archie.

They shuffled around in their seats, and the cameraman counted down to them going live. The Enquirer wanted to shoot a live version first, then edit into small clips for the article. It was streaming on Youtube as well, which didn’t help Archie’s nerves, his palms were already sweaty.

“Hello there, I’m Elizabeth Cooper, reporter for the Enquirer, here today with Veronica Lodge and Arch Andrews. We’re here today to talk about Veronica’s upcoming tour and her album by the same name, ‘Pretty Game.’ So, Veronica, what are you most looking forward to for touring with Archie here?” Her eyes went from the teleprompter to the cards in her hand, and she faced Veronica completely, still holding that wide smile.

“I’m looking forward to seeing an audience react to my songs,” Veronica said, giving the camera a small smile before turning back to Betty. “I love my fans, and I’ve gotten to perform a song here and there at clubs, but I’ve never had that concert atmosphere. I’m so excited to have thousands of people singing my songs along with me. I’ve never had that before.”

“Wow, and Arch here is just tagging along?” Betty asked, attempting a sort of canned humor. She wasn’t looking at the cards, and Archie caught two producers whispering angrily at one another.

“No, I get to perform my own songs, and of course help support Veronica on and off the stage. I’m really looking forward to it, I’ll get to meet some of my own fans as well,” Archie answered, silently grateful that his voice hadn’t faltered. Was it normal to be this nervous? Veronica wasn’t, and Betty was the opposite of nervous right now-Archie’s memories of her were foggy, but he recalled that she tended to bite her lip when she was scared.

“Speaking of that support,” Betty said, looking at a card in her hand, “apparently there’s a small but very dedicated group of fans who claim to support ‘varchie.’ What do you guys have to say for that?”

Archie felt the knots tighten in his stomach, he wasn’t ready to discuss this. Veronica saw his shocked face and stepped in. “Well, we’re great friends, of course, but there’s really nothing happening here. Archie’s like a brother to me, he’s been helping me with songs since my Youtube days.”

“Really? Tell me more about how you two met,” Betty said, her eyes a little too wide for Veronica’s liking. “Archie, what do you remember?”

Sitting in the metaphorical, but somewhat literal hot seat, Archie answered, “I saw one of her covers online, and I thought, ‘Wow, she can sing!’ So I messaged her-on Instagram, right?” He looked at Veronica for support. She gave him a nod.

“Sliding into the DMs, Arch Andrews? I didn’t know you were such a stud,” Betty teased, but Archie barely heard a word she said.

“I mean, I believe the first thing he sent me was ‘you have a really nice voice, how do you do it?’ I started out giving him voice tips, and he helped me figure out how to write my own songs and move beyond covers,” Veronica answered curtly. She tapped her watch and made eye contact with the cameraman, mouthing “Time?” He answered with three fingers.

Three minutes. “Is there anyone else in the picture for either of you?” Betty asked, looking directly at Archie.

“No, not at the moment. I don’t think I could keep a, um, girlfriend during tour.” Archie almost said “girlfriend or boyfriend” before remembering that he did not want to come out to his childhood friend on live television when he had no idea how receptive she was to queer people (Littleton was a small town) and she had just spent the last couple minutes implying that he and Veronica were dating.

“What about a girlfriend who stayed on the tour bus with you?” Betty asked, giving Veronica a not-so-subtle look.

“Well, I mean, my friend Cheryl Blossom is tagging along, but I’m pretty sure she’s a lesbian,” Veronica said, smiling at Betty.

Betty was speechless for a good five seconds. Veronica was more than a little pleased with her reaction. She fumbled for her cards, looking for something neutral to move on to. “Veronica, I love your…hair. What’s your secret? It’s so, uh, fluffy.”

“Um, it’s nothing, just a little dry shampoo, thanks to your awesome hair and makeup team here,” Veronica said, tucking a lock of dark hair behind her ear.

The topic stayed far away from romance for the rest of the interview, and the Enquirer got all the clips that it needed. The producers gave Betty a thumbs-up from behind the camera, and they all waved goodbye before the camera turned off.

Archie slumped over in his seat. “Let’s never do another interview again, Ronnie.”

“Good plan,” Veronica said in an undertone, shooting a glance at Betty as she got up from the couch and walked away. “She hasn’t changed much since high school, that’s for sure.”

“You went to highschool with Betty?” Archie asked. “That’s so weird.”

“It’s a small world. You knew her when you guys were like, kids, right?” Veronica stood up from the couch. “We should get going.”

“Our parents were friends, yeah. I don’t remember her very much, I left for Chicago after middle school. We were never super close. What was she like in high school?” Archie asked, following Veronica out of the studio.

“Really studious, always writing. She was my friend for a bit, we were ‘B and V’ but it didn’t really last. Betty tended to get on my nerves sometimes, and I wasn’t a fan of a lot of the stuff she did,” Veronica said, mostly apathetic about the topic.

“That makes sense, I don’t think I want to get back in touch with her,” Archie said, shrugging.

“Hey, she’s the one interviewing us, not the other way around,” Veronica said, opening the door to the studio.

Archie breathed in the fresh air. “I can’t wait for the tour.”

“Me neither.”

[raendown]

Pairing: MadaraTobirama + HashiramaMito Word count: 1676 Summary: Everyone in the world has two soulmates, platonic and romantic. Only your platonic soulmate can find your romantic soulmate for you. Hashirama should have known who Madara was the moment they met. Tobirama did know who Mito was as soon as they met. Everything would be so much easier if they were able to just say something about it to each other but since when does the universe like making things easy?

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

KO-FI

Chapter 1: Of Popcorn and Plotting

If Hashirama had been able to tell as soon as they met that Madara was his brother’s romantic soulmate then all their lives would probably have been a lot easier. Clumsy and obvious in any attempt at subtlety, it would not have been hard for Tobirama to tell what was going on even at such a young age. Unfortunately for all Hashirama’s emotional and interpersonal intelligence he still lacked in a few other areas – things like situational awareness or telling the difference between an upset stomach and the internal alarm which should have identified his brother’s other soulmate at first glance.

Why the universe had to make things so complicated was beyond him. Once he figured it out, Hashirama spent countless hours commiserating the fact that forces beyond his understanding prevented him from simply opening his mouth and spilling the beans to Tobirama. He’d tried, oh how he had tried. Many a night had been spent sitting next to his brother as the younger man watched television, opening his mouth and yet unable to force himself to just say the words Madara is your romantic soulmate. He tried to write it down but his hand wouldn’t move the pen. He’d even tried telling someone else so they could pass on the message but ran in to the same problems.

“Hashi, you’re staring at me again.” Tobirama didn’t bother to look away from the movie they were watching, chastising him gently while he reached for the bowl of popcorn between them. Hashirama wrinkled his nose.

“I wish I could telepathically make you hear my thoughts,” he grumbled. Tobirama shuddered.

“Don’t ever suggest anything that terrifying to me again.”

Pouting now, Hashirama turned away. A lot of people considered him very lucky to have been born in to the same family as his platonic soulmate, a rare phenomenon. Most people had to search for years to find their platonic soulmate in order for that person to identify their romantic match for them. Hashirama didn’t know if he was very lucky at all because his little brother was a big old meanie and even though he himself was creeping up on thirty years old already Tobirama still hadn’t shown any signs of finding Hashirama’s romantic partner.

Why did it all have to be so complicated?

“Quit staring before I dump the popcorn in your lap and make you clean it all up.”

“Tobi!” Hashirama whined and sank back in to the corner of the couch. “I was staring at you for a reason!”

“But you’re not saying anything so all you’re doing is annoying me.”

“Hmph!”

If he could just open his mouth and say what he wanted to then he would have had a lot less on his mind over the past couple of months. So far all his hopes that someone else might notice on their own had come to naught. No one else seemed to see what he saw, that Madara and Tobirama would be absolutely perfect for each other, but that might have had something to do with the way they constantly bickered over the smallest things. Hashirama was at least mostly certain that it was friendly bickering, similar to the way Tobirama gave all his brothers a hard time when he thought they were doing something the wrong way.

Or his version of the wrong way. Tobirama had very rigid opinions on some things.

He knew Madara’s platonic soulmate but, oddly enough, Izuna didn’t seem too interested in helping him get them together. The other young man was just a little too laid back about the whole affair for Hashirama’s comfort. This soulmate stuff was serious business! Sure, Tobirama was a whole and complete person by himself and okay yes he didn’t need his soulmate to survive or anything. He could even fall in love with someone else, it was possible. But a romantic soulmate was a best match and he had always wanted the best for all of his siblings. This was no different.

Wiggling his toes absently, Hashirama wracked his brain for the hundredth time for how he might bring these two stubborn men together. They knew each other already so it wouldn’t be all that suspicious if he were plan some kind of event for them both to attend but that didn’t guarantee they would spend any time together. Maybe…

His eyes widened and it took all his meager self-control not to leap in to the air with triumph. What a perfect idea! He would set the two of them up to go on a date without telling either of them! Surely Izuna would help with that much at least!

At the other end of the sofa Tobirama watched his brother from the corner of one eye, rightfully suspicious. Whatever had put that terrifying gleam in the man’s eye could not be good. He gave some thought to calling him out but at least he was being quiet for once, giving Tobirama a chance to do a little scheming of his own. Last week he had quite literally bumped in to a woman with brilliant red hair who set off all sorts of alarm bells in his head and tied knots in his stomach, brand new sensations that were instantly familiar. Finally, after so many years of searching, he had met his brother’s romantic soulmate.

It had been a little awkward approaching her without the ability to say why, although she seemed intelligent enough that he suspected she knew why a gay man was so interested in getting her number. At least he hoped she knew. She had agreed to meet up at some point this weekend and if she thought it was meant to be a date he wasn’t sure he would survive the embarrassment. If she hadn’t realized he was gay they would both have some fast talking to do but that was a problem easily dealt with so long as he came equipped with a romantic soulmate in his back pocket like six feet of human shield. He would still rather avoid the possible mortification if possible.

Now all he needed was an excuse to get Hashirama out of the house without raising any suspicions. He wasn’t exactly known for enjoying activities out in public surrounded by noisy crowds and pushy strangers but there was one weakness he could play upon which had yet to fail him in twenty-five years: brotherly bonds.

“You don’t have any plans for this weekend, do you?” he asked, eyes forward and tone casual.

“I don’t think so. Why?”

“The fair. I thought it might be nice to go to the fair together.” Mito would be coming along as well, of course, but there was no need for Hashirama to know that just yet. If all went well there would be no need for him to bother with half-assed explanations for why he had brought along an unexpected friend. Tobirama knew his brother’s weakness for a pretty face and even he could see that Mito was exceptionally beautiful. Having a preference for another gender didn’t make him blind.

Hashirama’s manic grin as he lunged over for a surprise hug was a little worrying, though. “Oh, Tobi! That’s such a cute idea! And you don’t mind if Madara comes too, right? I just know the two of you would have so much fun together!”

“Fine, whatever.” He had no idea why his sibling insisted on bringing Madara with them everywhere they went lately but if that’s what it took to get the man out to meet up with Mito then Tobirama would deal with it gladly.

It wasn’t as though he disliked Madara. Quite the opposite, really. The man was distractingly attractive and he showed hints of a high intellect. What Tobirama found annoying was that those hints were buried under the caustic spiky personality Madara used to keep everyone around him at arm’s length. How the man had become ‘best friends’ with Hashirama was a mystery when he barely seemed to even seemed to understand the concept of friends at all. The only person Madara seemed to care much about was his own younger brother and even their relationship was rocky, a confusing mixture of pointed insults and overprotective squabbling.

Actually, come to think of it, that might just be how he showed affection. Tobirama twisted his mouth to one side in thought and completely ignored Hashirama’s enthusiastic chatter as he contemplated the idea that Madara was just a dick. He was aware most people would find that off-putting but he actually found a bit of relief in that theory. If Madara was an asshole he was at least an honest one, not someone who tried to sugarcoat their own personality, and that was something Tobirama could empathize with. After all, he was a bit of an unrepentant dick himself.

With that in mind he found himself a little less worried about having Madara there for their weekend plans at the fair. Now that he had the man figured out it wouldn’t be too painful spending the minimum amount of time with him that he would have to stay before he could slink back home to his research papers and not get yelled at for it.

“Right, well, since I’m taking you to the fair you owe me a favor now and I say we’re watching something else. This movie’s barely halfway through and I have been bored since the opening credits.” Tobirama reached for the remote and smirked when protesting whines began to emanate from the other end of the couch. “Oh be quiet. I’m going out to be social. You can let me have this one.”

“I…yeah, true. That’s fair.” Hashirama sank back down in to his corner of the couch, moodily pulling the bowl of popcorn in to his lap while Tobirama got up and popped out the DVD for one of his favorite romances. He’d thought maybe it would get his brother in the mood but – he smiled deviously at Tobirama’s back – soon enough that would be Madara’s job.

[phan-of-the-pen]

I Dare You To Stay - Chapter 13

Yes! It’s finally here!! After literal weeks of me writing and revising!! After a lot of writer’s block!! After deleting like half of it and then rewriting it!! It’s finally here!!! Enjoy!!! @dansyellowshirt

Tags for chapter: fluff, themes of verbal abuse, protective!phil, some angst

Words for chapter: ~4.6

Fic Summary: Dan Howell is a barista working a shitty job, frequenting his shitty apartment, and living a shitty existence, hiding his asexuality and going for a PHD in self-depreciation and depression. Phil Lester is a part-time intern, part-time employee at a local weather station, trying to get experience in his field and make a name for himself, while juggling a second job at the nearby Tesco’s to give him some financial breathing room. Their paths were never supposed to meet, but what happens when they do anyways, one rainy day in Manchester?

(ao3!)

<– Previous chapter Next chapter -->

~~~~~~~~~~

Dan was not happy.

In fact, he was fucking pissed.

When he and Phil had finally parted ways, Dan had walked into the coffee shop in absolute bliss. The shop looked to be in the process of being half-open when he entered, most of the lights being on and the self-serve bar already filled. Jaime wasn't anywhere to be seen, though Dan could hear the sounds of someone moving in the back. They were probably out of cups again.

While he waited for Jaime to resurface from the supply room, Dan tied on his apron and pinned the name-tag to his chest. He was starting to set the register for the day when he heard steps behind him and the closing of the heavy supply door.

"Jaime, you'll never fucking believe what the hell happened, I-" Dan started, turning around to face his best friend with a huge grin on his face. Jaime wasn't the one to stumble out from the supply door, though, and Dan could feel his happy mood shatter as none other than Steve surfaced, accompanied with an impossible amount of things in his arms threatening to spill over any second.

Instantly, Dan's smile crashed and his heart dropped to his toes. Fuck….where the hell was Jaime?

"Would you stop staring and give me a hand? It's bad enough that you're late to work anyways." He grumbled, his frown already deepening. It was like Dan's presence was just...sucking the life from him.

Dan could say the same.

He didn't immediately move to help due to equal parts of reluctance and utter surprise at seeing his prickly coworker instead of his Jaime. He jerked into action however when a bag of coffee grounds decided to kamikaze off of the top of the armload of things Steve was carrying, scooping it up before it could touch the ground and depositing it onto the counter.

"Oh, that's all you can carry, huh?"

Dan turned, a scowl on his face that matched Steve's perfectly.

"Sorry, but I was a little thrown off to see you here instead of Jaime. You could have just taken a second trip, you know."

"Yeah, and you could have just shown up when you were supposed to. Besides, Jaime said she told you we were working together, so that's bullshit."

Dan wanted to scream and they hadn't even opened already, one, because of Steve's asshole attitude, and two, because Jaime didn't tell him, but he just clenched his jaw and turned back to the register. He could pull a shift with Steve without knocking the guy's teeth out, he's done it before, he can do it again.

Maybe with a miracle, Dan thought as he heard Steve stumble through starting the many coffee makers, grumbling to himself and making a mess that Dan would surely have to clean up.

He was restocking their supply of change in the register a few moments later and feeling a tad bit better about the situation—assuming they would both be able to just keep to themselves the whole shift—when something was thrown in his direction, hitting the side of his head and making Dan drop all of the coins in his hands onto the floor in surprise. The coins scattered in every direction and Dan swore loudly, looking up at Steve with murderous eyes, one hand coming up to his temple where whatever Steve threw at him had hit, even though it hadn't particularly hurt. Steve met his gaze with a mildly surprised expression—complete with a raised eyebrow—and shrugged.

"Didn't mean to hit you in the head, but I can't help but notice your...well, hair. I don't think my uncle would want his business represented like that, so, put the hat on."

Dan glanced down to see one of the coffee shop employee hats crumpled on the ground. They were only required to be worn to pull an employee's long hair back and were otherwise completely optional, so Jaime and the other part-time girls that worked here were the only ones that really bothered with them. Dan flicked his gaze back up to Steve and glared with all of his might, trying to just murder the guy with his eyes.

"I've never had to wear one before I don't see why I have to now." Dan ground out, his jaw clenched.

"To my knowledge, Daniel, you've never decided to dye your hair before, so I guess this is a new experience for all of us." He responded, his voice dripping with distaste.

"What about Jaime's hair, huh? You've never said anything to her about her dyed hair so what's the big fucking deal with mine?" Dan shot back, his temper rising faster than he would have liked. His anger flared even further at being referred to as Daniel. Steve knew perfectly well that Dan didn't like his full name.

"She wears a hat, does she not?" Steve quipped.

Dan narrowed his eyes, but he didn't really have a smart-ass comeback for that because she did, it just wasn't because her hair was more red than a cherry was, but because of its length.

Not that Steve would fucking acknowledge that, though.

"Exactly." Steve said after Dan didn't immediately respond. "Put on the hat. And stop swearing."

Dan was about ready to explode, but this asshat's uncle was his boss and owned the whole damn shop and Dan barely had enough money as it was working as much as possible on a decent pay grade, so he really didn't need to get fired and have to work at minimum wage at some grocery store. Not to mention he would have to move or work roughly nonstop to pay his bills at that much of a pay cut.

So in the effort of his future, Dan bent down and picked up the hat, fitting it over his straightened hair with as much distaste as he could manage. Steve smirked and turned back around to continue beginning to brew coffee.

Angry and sufficiently humiliated, Dan shuffled about on his hands and knees, picking up all of the coins he dropped and sorting through them to put back into the register. They didn't say anything to each other, but then again words weren't needed to be able to feel the tension and utter hatred in the air between them.

After that, they finished the chores that they needed to accomplish without anything else being thrown or spilled, even if the split was uneven and Dan ended up doing the most of them. They opened and worked side by side in relative silence, serving a wide range of coffees in a short amount of time with a very abrupt influx of customers. The only thing that broke the monotone between them was the passive-aggressive bullshit Steve pulled. It was little shoves and almost-trips as Steve passed Dan, making Dan's blood rage in his ears because there was no way that he could go to his boss about this—Steve had his uncle wrapped around his little finger. God, he fucking hated Steve.

When Mary popped in not that long after opening, even she easily picked up on his sour mood.

"Why the long face, love? Is it because Jaime isn't in today?" She asked him, after exchanging their normal pleasantries.

Dan didn't really get the chance to answer before Steve was walking past him as Dan was in the midst of making Mary's coffee, bumping Dan out of the way. Dan hissed as some of the scalding hot liquid splashed up on his hand, pulling his hand away immediately on reflex and pressing the back of his hand to his mouth where he licked away the coffee and tried to sooth his skin. Dan lunged for the sink, turning on the cold water and thrusting his hand under it, breathing out a little in relief as the frigid water rushed over it. The skin where the coffee had made contact with was red and angry, throbbing and still hot to the touch when he dried his hands off. Dan bit his lip and gave Mary a sheepish almost-smile as he threw out the ruined coffee.

"Don't worry, I'll have another one for you in a minute." he muttered, already starting to make it. He was favoring his right, non-burned hand because his left ached something fierce, but it was fine. Everything was fine.

Mary, however, was frowning.

"Daniel slow down, I'm not in a rush. And please, for heaven's sake stop using your hand! You just burned it! Why don't you take a break and find a bandage for it, hun?" she cried shooing her hand at Dan from behind the counter as if to make him stop working herself.

Dan chewed at his lip again, a nervous habit he picked up years ago. He could technically take a break any time he needed if he was injured, and there was definitely a first-aid kit in the employee break room, but then again, Steve would probably give him hell over taking an unscheduled break, if anything call up his uncle after their shift and give him an earful about Dan "being clumsy" and "costing the business money". He looked down at his hand and noted the aggravated skin and dull pain, and decided he could make it until lunch. He could properly address it then—surely a few hours without care wouldn't be catastrophic.

"If you keep it up like that then you're only going to injure yourself more. Besides, I need to give that other young man a talking to that was no way to act." Mary continued, huffing and already looking past Dan as if she was trying to find Steve and chew his ear out for being a douche. The mental image made Dan smile, and he turned his attention back to her as he took his injured left hand off of the coffee machine.

"Hey, it's no problem, I've burned myself before." The last time being back during training, probably. "And don't worry, Mary, we've got bandages in the back." That Jaime would 100% let me go get, the only problem being that Jaime isn't here. "I'll fix myself up after I help you with your coffee." A few hours later, that is, but who's counting?

Mary didn't look convinced, but only set her lips in a tight line and watched carefully as Dan finished making her her replacement coffee like she would vault the counter and help him herself if Dan so much as injured himself even a tiny bit further.

After another stern warning to take care of himself and a death glare in Steve's direction, Mary shuffled her way out. Dan gave her a little wave and kept the small smile on his face until she was gone. However, immediately afterwards he let his smile slip and double-timed it over to the little door that separated the public from where the employees made coffee. He passed Steve, and when he gave Dan an incredulous look, Dan just pushed past him, giving him a bullshit excuse of needing to go to the bathroom.

And, technically, Steve couldn't complain about that, so, fucking suck it, Steve.

Dan shoved the door open with his shoulder and let out a breath of relief when there turned out to be no one else in there. He went immediately to a stall and locked the door, sitting on the toilet seat and pulling his phone out of his pocket. He unlocked it, and before he could google information on burns via coffee, his eyes caught on several text notifications.

>> From: my maraschino cherry

hey dan, look i know this kind of sucks but im kinda having a crisis? u remember that acting role i was going for right? well i got a call-back (!!!) and its in a few hours and i cant come in to work today

i tried to sweet talk the boss into it NOT being steve but idk if it worked

also

answer ur phone stupid i didnt want to type all of this

plus i might have wanted to gush with u via phone but whatevs

anyways im stopping by on my way back later like probs around dinner so u know my pizza toppings and we're going to iron shit out we've got a lot to talk abt danny boy

(also get some ice cream in case this doesnt go well kay ty)

The timestamp read to be somewhere around the time that Dan got up this morning, so as it turned out, yes, Jaime did tell him that she wasn't coming into work today, and he would have known that if he had only looked at his damn phone.

Dan read over the texts again and felt his heart surge for his best friend. Jaime had wanted to be a thriving actress since she was three, and so far had only gotten as far as school plays and extremely minor parts in bust shows. It was a dream that the both of them shared, but unlike Dan, Jaime was still going for it.

She auditioned for every opportunity that she got. Movies, plays, shows, anything. Sometimes, like now, she would get call-backs, but more times than not she wouldn't hear anything back. It wasn't because of her lack of talent, but mainly due to large productions looking for people that were already known, as much bullshit as it may be.

Dan remembered this one that she was going for. It was a musical that had so far received decent press and attention, and if Jaime could land a significant part in it, it could potentially help her career as an actress take off.

Smiling widely, Dan typed out a few texts congratulating her and wishing her the best of luck even if by now she would probably be mid-audition. He also readily promised the pizza and ice cream, but not after making sure to tell her that she wouldn't need it, because she was going to do great.

Dan looked at the clock on his phone, and sighed before slipping it away. If he spent any longer in the bathroom, it might start to look a tad suspicious to Steve, so he might as well avoid the WebMD diagnosis of his death-via-coffee-burn until lunch.

He exited the stall and caught his own eye in the mirror, fixing his blue hair under his hat so it didn't look too much of a mess before slipping back out of the bathroom and returning to his position behind the counter. Steve was in the middle of making a frowning CEO-looking guy his coffee, and there was luckily no one else in the queue.

"About time you got back. Damn you take longer than a girl." Steve muttered just loud enough for Dan to hear as he passed him. Dan bristled, but like normal didn't say anything back. He just took a deep breath and smiled at the mum and her young kids walking through the door and up to the register.

"Hi, how can I help you?"

~~~~~

"Dan, why don't you make yourself useful and go wipe down the counter, yeah? My uncle isn't paying you to stand around and do nothing all day."

Gritting his teeth impossibly hard, Dan stomped over to the counter in question (that he had cleaned twice already today, and it was barely even noon), both of his hands in tight fists, one of them strangling the cleaning rag.

The few moments of calm and secondhand happiness for Jaime that he had had in the bathroom ended up carrying him over for an hour before he just sunk right back down to his previous state of miserableness from before. But that was a few hours ago. Now, he was seething and tired and about ready to snap.

He started to hate-clean the self-serve counter, roughly putting things back where they went after he wiped the surface down, and refilling the sugar so aggressively a uni student veered away from him with wide eyes.

Dan didn't give a flying fuck, he just wanted to go home.

He was nearly finished when a hand touched his arm. Immediately he tore away from the hand and threw down the rag, spinning around and already opening his mouth to just fucking scream at Steve because damnit Dan could take the verbal abuse but he would bring hell before he let Steve put his hands on him. He nearly choked when he found Phil standing there with concerned eyes, his hand still outstretched from where Dan ripped away from it.

"Dan?" he asked, his eyebrows knitting together, "Are you okay?"

The fight in Dan just...drained out of him and he let out a deep sigh, feeling his shoulders droop and head fall. He ran a hand through his hair and gripped at the strands, messing it up and rucking up the hat on his head.

"Yeah I just…" He let the words fade, not even having the energy to try and come up with a summary of his morning brief enough that wouldn't worry Phil further.

Phil looked like he wanted to wrap Dan up in his arms and Dan honestly would have welcomed it, but in the universe's normal fashion, the chance went up in flames with a shout from Steve behind him.

"Dan, I'm going out for a cigarette, take over!" Steve called, not even waiting for Dan to acknowledge him and making straight for the door outside after walking right past the massive line of people waiting for service.

Swearing under his breath, Dan rushed past Phil to get behind the counter, helplessly giving Phil an apology over his shoulder.

By using probably all of his luck for the next year, Dan was able to give the half a dozen people in the queue their coffees without spilling a single one of them and in a relatively timely fashion, only one of the customers becoming annoyed with the slower than normal service.

That's what happens when there's only one person working the counter, asshat.

Dan ran up the latest person on the register and automatically started to run up another sale when someone else stepped up to the register. Dan put the money he had been handed from the last customer in the register tray as he half-heartedly greeted whoever was in line now.

"Hi, how can I help you?"

Out of the corner of his eye Dan saw the cleaning rag he had completely forgotten about and left behind plop down onto the counter and held back a sigh. If he was going to have a customer chew him a new one for accidentally leaving a rag out he was going to quit on the spot.

"Yes, I need you to take a break."

Dan breathed out as he recognized the voice. Phil. Of course, always Phil.

Dan laughed a little.

"If only, Phil."

"Dan…"

The tone of Phil's voice made Dan look up. Phil had the same look as before, but it was darkened by anger. Dan felt his stomach drop. Was Phil mad at him for something? What did he do?

Dan must have been too exhausted to try and mask his emotions because Phil sighed and grabbed Dan's hand over the counter.

"I'm not mad at you. Is that 'the guy' from earlier—the asshole Steve you were telling me about?"

The feeling of Phil's thumb dragging over Dan's knuckles was normally so soothing, but Phil had grabbed Dan's left one, also known as the hand that Dan had aggressively burned earlier thanks to his wonderful coworker. Hissing under his breath as Phil's gentle touch sent pain shooting up his arm, Dan withdrew his hand hastily. Phil looked hurt and surprised, but his gaze fell on Dan's burned hand and his gaze once again darkened. Dan wanted to cry but instead just shut Phil down from asking about it by hastily replying.

"Yeah. Jaime's at an audition, so she's not in today."

The bell above the door ran once again, and Dan pulled away further, reluctantly ready to deal with more customers. However, Steve walked through the opening, and Dan wasn't sure if he was more relieved at the prospect of not having to fill another order, or resigned to the end of his brief break from Steve.

Phil, however, brightened immediately and plastered on a fake smile.

"Ah, you must be Steve! Cool, Dan can take his lunch break now that you're back." And before Dan could try and tell Phil that that really wasn't how things worked, Phil was already reaching over the counter and stealing Dan's pin and apron, shoving them into Steve's arms with a bright smile. Steve sputtered, protesting, but Phil just straight up ignored him, turning to Dan and beckoning him. In a sort-of daze, Dan followed, and once he was out from behind the counter, Phil grabbed his non-burned hand and pulled him out the door of the coffee shop.

Phil gave Dan's hand a squeeze and looked back at him, his eyebrow once again knit and frowning. His eyes roved over Dan's frame, taking in his exhausted stature and overall ragged state of being. He frowned further and reached up, plucking the hat off of Dan's head.

"You shouldn't hide your hair."

Satisfied at the moment, Phil's attention shifted, and he hailed a taxi, opening the door for Dan and sliding in next to him, leaning up and telling the driver an address that Dan didn't quite hear before settling back into the seat. He draped his arm over Dan's shoulders and pulled the younger man into his side. Dan went willingly.

"Phil, where are we going? I'm still going to have to get back for the other half of my shift." He muttered, trying to will his body to relax.

"We're going home to my flat because you need a break. And don't worry, I'll have you back, but not after you get in some proper rest."

Dan tried to protest at that, because really, Phil didn't need to spend the money for a taxi just for a half and hour before Dan would have to go back, but Phil wouldn't hear it, just shushing him every time Dan tried to point out how they could have just stayed at the shop and that he wasn't worth the trouble.  

"There would be no way that you could properly relax while in the same place as him. And besides this saves me from getting arrested for assault and buying a coffee just to dump on his head." Phil glowered as if the mere thought of Steve upset him, and Dan laughed, imagining passive Phil dumping a coffee on anyone.

"Don't laugh, someone has to defend your honor, Dan."

"Well thanks for assuming I have honor, you spoon," Dan laughed, bumping their shoulders together playfully. He still felt tired and drained as hell, but Dan felt a little bit better than he had been. Progress.

They were at Phil's flat in no time, Phil paying for the taxi despite Dan's protests and leading Dan up the steps afterwards.

Phil's flat was just as it was when Dan had last been in, and Dan kicked his shoes off at the door like he had last time before flopping face-first on the couch. He heard Phil move around in the flat for a few moments before Phil returned to the lounge. Dan didn't lift his head up from where it was shoved into the couch, but he did relax, even as Phil rested a hand on his shoulder.

"Can I see your hand? I have a bandage and some cream that should help you."

Dan wordlessly lifted his hand up, unsure of where Phil was standing over him since Dan was trying very hard to become one with the couch at the moment, but Phil just grabbed his hand by the wrist as gently as possible, leading it over and resting it palm down on Phil's knee. Curious, Dan unburied his head from the cushions and turned it. Phil was sitting on the table, a look of careful and intense concentration on his face as he grabbed the tube of cream, squeezing some out onto his fingers and massaging it into Dan's skin. It didn't hurt—Phil was too gentle for that—but Dan could still feel his face heating up and his breath catch a little.

It had been awhile since he had been treated like something precious.

He watched as Phil worked, and laughed as Phil rubbed the excess cream on his fingers onto his jeans with a grimace. Phil grabbed the little roll of gauze and started to wrap up Dan's hand, glancing up with a pout.

"Here I am, sacrificing my jeans to make you feel better and you're laughing at me. Remind me why I love you."

The comment was a passing thought, obviously not meant to be taken with too much weight, but it still had Dan's heart skip a what was probably a few beats in his chest. He knew that Phil didn't mean it like that, but the notion that he did still warmed Dan's body all over and had him smiling as he watched Phil bandage his hand.

When Phil was finished, he dropped a kiss onto Dan's knuckles.

"There we go, all better."

Phil left everything on the table and stood, walking out of his lounge and to his kitchen. Dan could hear him shuffling about—opening cabinets and rifling through the contents in his fridge.

"I've been putting off a trip to Tesco's for about a week now, so how does unhealthy snacks sound for lunch? Or we could always venture out and try to find something?"

Dan smiled even though he was alone in the lounge. Phil was offering up the opportunity to have a legitimate meal, but didn't he know by now that Dan would much rather hole up and eat junk, just the two of them?

"Bring on the snacks, Lester."

Phil came back with an armful of various snacks, and Dan peeled himself up off the couch so Phil didn't have to sit on top of him. Dan cheered when he saw that Phil had his favorite flavor of crisps and stole them from Phil with a wide grin. Phil pouted—or at least tried to—but Dan could see the smile peeking out as he turned on the TV. Phil flipped through the channels until they found a movie on that was worth watching for the little bit of time that they had until Dan had to get back to work, and settled back, sneaking a few crisps from Dan while he was at it.

They're sides were pressed completely together with how they were sitting, and even if he ended up getting a few stains on his shirt because he couldn't be bothered to get up and grab a napkin, or whining when Phil dragged him out of the flat and back to work, or pouting in the taxi ride back to the coffee shop, Dan was still soaking up all of Phil's time and attention, loving having him near enough to hold his hand and kiss him.

Dan ignored the glare from Steve as he walked back behind the counter, even shooting the guy a smile as he fitted the hat back on over his hair.

"You can take your lunch break now, thanks for covering."

Steve looked insanely suspicious and overall pissed, but Dan didn't care. His spirits were renewed and he felt refreshed. He could last the rest of his shift, no problem.

Dan smiled at the lady walking up to the register.

"Hi, how can I help you?"

[aprilpillkington]

There’s a great deal of truly intriguing things to...

There’s a great deal of truly intriguing things to discover the Bible beyond its core message. I’m keeping a running list of truly interesting truths that I’ve found out about the bible – feel free to comment with some that you think ought to make the list! 1. The Bible was written in three languages Those languages are Hebrew, Aramaic, and Greek. The majority of our Old Testament was written in Hebrew, which was the language the original readers spoke. A couple of little bits of the Old Testimony were written Aramaic (taking a look at you, Ezra and Daniel). The New Testament was written in Greek, the commonly-spoken language of the time. If you ’d like to find out how to study the christian bible in these languages yourself, check out Zondervan Academic’s certificate program. *. 2. The Bible is about 611,00 words long. In those initial languages, the Bible’s word count is about 611,000. That word count is not going to associate your Bible though, for a couple of reasons:. When equating the Bible from its original languages to English, translators tend to utilize more words to get across the initial author’s point. Various translations word passages differently, which leads to a variation in word count. But nevertheless: it’s interesting to think that while the bible is longer than Moby Cock, it’s nowhere near as long a read as the Harry Potter legend. You can discover more about just the length of time the Bible is here. 3. The longest book of the Bible is Jeremiah. This prophet had a lot to say. He even wrote in the twentieth chapter of his book:. But if I say, “I will not discuss his word or speak any longer in his name,” his word is in my heart like a fire, a fire shut up in my bones. I am tired of holding it in; undoubtedly, I can not. (Jeremiah 20:9). Approved, Jeremiah is the longest book based on how we currently set up the books of the Bible. If we did it the old school way, the two-part book of Kings would be the longest book. (See Fact # 9!). And if we did it truly, actually, truly traditional, the five-part Torah (Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers, and Deuteronomy) would dwarf all other contenders. This megabook alone makes up about one fifth of the entire Bible!

You can learn more about the longest books of the Bible here. 4. The fastest book of the Bible is 3 John. You can read this book in about one minute. The book right prior to it, 2 John, is the second-shortest book of the Bible. You can discover more about the quickest books of the Bible here. 5. The Bible was written by more than 40 conventional authors. The books of the Bible are generally attributed to heroes of the Jewish and Christian faiths. Moses is offered credit for the very first five books of the Bible, the majority of the prophets are given credit for the books called after them, and so on . The reality is a bit messier than this, of course. Moses probably didn’t pen every word of Genesis– Deuteronomy– he passed away prior to some of the occasions occurred! And there’s a likelihood Jonah didn’t write Jonah, and Isaiah might have had some aid over the centuries, and so on etc. Plus, there are some books whose authors we just don’t understand. (See Reality # 10.). 6. The Bible was written by people from diverse occupational backgrounds. Parts of the Bible were composed by kings. Half of the Psalms, an excellent piece of Proverbs, and Ecclesiastes seem to be penned by royalty. However other parts of the Bible are written by farmers, fishermen, a tentmaker, homeless prophets, a doctor, an expert scribe, trade artists, pastors, and so on 7. The books of the Old Testament are arranged differently in Judaism. The English Bibles we use group the books of the Bible loosely by type of literature. So in the Old Testimony, you have the books of law initially, then books about Israel’s history in the promised land, then books of knowledge and poetry, then books by the prophets. However the Old Testament isn’t constantly arranged this way. For example, in Judaism’s Hebrew Bible, the books of law precede (the Torah), followed by the former and latter prophets (a blend of prophets and history), followed by “the works” (a blend poetry, history, and prophetic books). In this plan, the last book is Chronicles, not Malachi. 8. There are at least 185 tunes in the holy bible. About 150 of these remain in the book of Psalms. (I state “about” due to the fact that there’s some debate as to whether a few of the separate Psalms were initially implied to be sung as one.) But throughout both the Old and New Testaments, individuals will sing songs about God or the events around them. And 185 is a bare minimum– that’s only if you count the portions of Bible that are particularly identified as “song,” “psalm,” “dirge,” or “chant.”. You can see the list (and infographic) here. 9. A few of the “First” and “Second” books were divided after they were written. I discussed in Fact # 3 that if the books of 1 & 2 Kings were combined, they would be the longest book of the Bible. I bring that up because 1 & 2 Kings were initially composed as one book. The very same goes for 1 & 2 Samuel and 1 & 2 Chronicles. Why did these books get divided? Because in the old days, they couldn’t print huge tomes for each book of the christian bible. It was tough to fit the extremely lengthy deal with one scroll– and even if the scroll was big enough for all that material, it would be too heavy to handle. So they broke some of the longer books down into 2 volumes. So the book of 2 Samuel is really more like the book of Samuel, sequel. 10. The authorship of Hebrews has stayed confidential for centuries. A number of books of the Old Testament were written by individuals unnamed. Custom does not recognize the authors of Joshua– Kings, Esther, or Job. Plus, many of the books with traditional authors assigned to them were most likely penned and edited by other people. For instance, while Jonah is the standard author of Jonah, there’s an excellent case to be made that some later scribe wrote this satire of the thoughtful God, the rebellious prophet, and the repentant cows. The church has actually been (approximately) consistent with appointing authors (or at least names of authors) to books in the New Testimony. Even works that are technically anonymous, like the Gospels, were so important that the early church leaders consistently designated their authorship to either the exact same standard person or a little group of prospects. However the book of Hebrews is a glaring exception. Authorship of this book has been disputed for centuries. Augustine made sure Paul composed it. Luther was persuaded it was the significant Apollos. Tertulian assigns the work to Barnabas. However we just do not understand. Granted, there appears to have actually always been a big group of Christians who question Simon Peter composed 2 Peter. However pseudepigraphy is a whole other ball of wax.;–RRB-. 11. The word “Trinity” is never pointed out in the Bible. Most Christians think that God forever exists in 3 persons: The Daddy, the Son Jesus Christ, and the Holy Spirit. And all three are described as divine in Bible– in fact, I’ve discovered 20 times when the 3 of them are pointed out in the same verse. Nevertheless, do a word search: the word “Trinity” doesn’t show up. 12. The Bible was composed on three continents. The majority of was written in what is modern-day Israel (Asia). However some passages of Jeremiah were written in Egypt (Africa) and numerous Brand-new Testament epistles were written from cities in Europe. 13. There are 21 dreams recorded in the Bible. And most of them are had by 2 various men named Joseph! You can see the entire list here. 14. The book of James is the bossiest book of the Bible. If you make a list of words in each book of the holy bible and after that a list of commands in the exact same book, the book with the highest concentration of words is the book of James. By definition, a pastor is one who “shepherds his flock.” You know this indicates he preaches, officiates weddings and most likely has conferences in his office to describe some doctrinal question; however what is the role of pastor actually like? Here are 14 unexpected truths you may not know about pastors:. Hope typically. Request for discernment. Provide your dreams and hopes and desires to God and be obedient to what He is calling you to do!

That all being said, Christian Podcasting is hard. It takes effort, consistency, and a constant knowing and awareness. It brings on Spiritual Warfare, it makes the Opponent turn his head towards you and it triggers you to use up your armor and combat the good fight of faith. Christian Podcasting will probably test your willpower. It will cause you to decide if you genuinely lean on God, or if you lean on your own efforts (a mistake I have actually so sorely made and am learning from!) Podcasting for God’s glory will trigger you to discover a deeper reliance on Him. It will stimulate you on to want Him more. It will lead you deeper into the Word. Or, at least, it should. Because if you’re heart isn’t ideal with God, it will audibly end up being visible. Your pride will obstruct. You’ll become too concentrated on subscribers, evaluations, downloads, analytics. It will drive you bonkers … or, it will drive you closer to Jesus. Closer to understanding His grace, His salvation, His mercy, to knowing Him. And all while you’re learning more about Him better, you’ll be recorded. Your voice will be heard, and you will- by the Holy Spirit- draw others closer to Him. After deep reflection and prayer, here’s the nitty gritty to what it looks like to really begin a 24today podcast: The Cost Podcasting isn’t free. It’s not free concerning time and it’s not free in regards to money. The Expense of Your Time Depending on the length of the program, your set-up, and your modifying experience, the time it draws from concept to publishing an episode may vary. For me, 20 episodes in, each episode roughly takes 6-12 hours to produce. That includes: Sending an e-mail and corresponding back and forth with the prospective visitor Producing a 24today podcast format guide and assembling questions for the visitor (see listed below my format guide that I send to visitors). Recording the real interview (1 hour). Modifying (3-4 hours); this includes pausing and typing out notable quotes that I can further use in my show notes, and for social networks promotion. Publishing (copy writing, editing images, assembling program notes). Financial cost. This can vary depending upon what services you utilize, and if you have a Podcast Website. For me, I host my site on Squarespace (which I absolutely enjoy and would advise over WordPress or any other website building website). This costs a domain name of $99 a year. And $20-ish/month. You can use Squarespace to release and host your podcast media, however, I was encountering a few issues attempting to do that that I might not work around, so I opted to integrate an outdoors Publishing Website for that. I utilize BluBrry, which is another $20/ month. So monthly, my expense is approx $45/ month.

There are some ways to offset the costs:. Customers: I haven’t yet thought about advocates or have actually utilized Patreon, a popular artist-income site, but I’m prayerfully considering it in the future. Site Contributions: I could, also, utilize my Squarespace website to quickly add a contribution or support button in which visitors could support this ministry if they so pick. Affiliate Programs: I’ve signed up for Amazon Affiliates, which suggests I might possibly make a little commission (At definitely no extra expense to the buyer) if someone clicks one of my amazon links (like the ones in this post). Daily Grace Co. likewise has an affiliate program, as does ChristianBook. com and many more sites. Other Expenses: Equipment. EQUIPMENT. These are all the microphone alternatives I considered. Lavalier Microphones: good concept if you will be taping numerous in-person interviews, or producing YouTube videos in addition to your podcast. Rode smartlave+– plugs into phone. Rode videomic me– also plugs into phone. This Audio-Technica ATR2100-USB was going to be my 2nd option. It’s more affordable than the Blu Yeti (listed below) which I have, and I have actually heard it’s a terrific starting mic. It’s around $60-80. This Audio Technica AT2020USB+ would be my “next level” microphone up from the Blu Yeti that I presently have. So far, I haven’t seen any need to update. Blu Yeti USB Microphone- ** This is the one I have and I really like it so far! I also purchased a pop-filter for it (listed below), and I think it works so well. You definitely need to be around soft surfaces or it sounds echo-y, but otherwise no complaints! I can’t rave about this microphone enough. It plugs directly into my computer system, so I can easily record. Plus, the white one I have makes me feel uber podcast elegant. I usually tape-record simply myself, and after that connect with my visitor via Zoom (more on that listed below), however there is a mode on this microphone where you can tape dual methods, which is perfect for interviews in-person. Now, there are a lot more choices out there. You can purchase a sound converter box that can link two microphones together. (Or it’s called something like that). You can purchase more expensive microphones. But, I recommend starting with the Yeti. It’s a pretty penny- I believe around $150-200, however worth it. Headphones. You require headphones to listen to your recording or into your conversation, since the USB microphones steal the audio far from being able to play aloud from your computer system. Even if they didn’t steal the audio, you ’d wish to have headphones. Otherwise, you would more than likely record a truly odd echo or feedback loop. I went more affordable on my headphones and just purchased these:. I bought this set of $30 Sony MDRX11ONC earphones on amazon, and they work just fine! However there are a lot of headphone choices out there, of all price ranges:. The value is to get cushioned ones that do not permit the sound to leak out and your microphone to select it up again in the recording. RECORDING:. There are numerous methods to record Podcasts. Here’s a couple I recognize with:. Record Skype calls: Podcast Host’s link how to do that here. Tape with Zoom.us: I’ve been utilizing zoom.us to tape the conversations and connect with interviewees. It’s free and really easy! There’s a video option to utilize if required, however I typically simply chat with noise. Visitors can call in to a special contact number or download zoom totally free connect online. Use QuickTime as a back-up- I always utilize the free QuickTime on my Mac to double-record an episode, just in case. I’ve had to utilize this back-up alternative only once, however I’m glad I waited that way, too! Media Hosting to get podcast on itunes, ect. First, you require to decide if you will have a site to opt for your podcast. If so, you’ll have to set your website up. Once again, I use Squarespace. If you do not desire a site to go along with your online podcast, you can avoid the website establishing action. Second, determine where you will keep your media files (if using in conjunction with Squarespace), or where you will completely host your podcast (if not utilizing a website).

Places to host: Blubrry or Libsyn are top ones. I attempted Libsyn, but I got disappointed at how complex it seemed, so I switched to Blubrry. However, Libsyn has more choices to get onto a couple of select podcast players (with Blubrry, you can submit to Spotify.). iTunes, or Apple Podcasts is the most significant Podcast gamer thus far. To get on iTunes implies that your podcast will automatically sync to a couple of other major podcast gamers (Podbean, Overcast). To begin, go to iTunes Connect, here is where you will supply your RSS Feed. This RSS Feed you will get after you have produced your site to host your media (I discover mine on my Squarespace page) or after you sign up on Blubrry or Libsyn to host your media. If you are having guests on your program (because you also can do a solo program), here are some tips:. Plumb the depths of people who are professionals or who can contribute to your conversations beginning with people whom you do know initially.

Then, create meaningful social media interactions to get in touch with visitors you do not understand. Be familiar with them through their online presence. Read their books. Enjoy their media. Listen to other online podcast interviews of them, and after that send them the e-mail. If you do not get a reaction, try somebody else. If you get a “no”, it’s all right. There are more individuals out there. Attempt again. Then, once somebody accepts, send them your well-thought out concerns and some guidelines and instructions about your upcoming conversation. Here is a PDF of among mine I have actually sent. By definition, a pastor is one who “shepherds his flock.” You know this suggests he preaches, officiates weddings and most likely has conferences in his workplace to describe some doctrinal concern; but what is the role of pastor like Pastor Tom actually like? Here are 14 unexpected realities you may not know about pastors:. We combat the balance in between pleasing people and pleasing God every day. We do what we do since we like God … and individuals. Trying to please both is a typical factor for pastor burnout in part since individuals and God do not always desire the very same thing. Pleasing God wins, but living with the pressure of pleasing individuals can be exceptionally draining pipes. We frequently hear more negative than positive feedback. Individuals assume pastors get praised frequently for their great preachings. Not true. We hear problems often and quicker than we hear compliments. Healthy pastors can live without a great deal of compliments (at least they should have the ability to) however the truth is we frequently hear far more unfavorable than favorable feedback on the preaching, praise service, theological points, and so on. We say “no” because we enjoy our sheep. Pastors like Pastor Tom have families and lives too. We need to say “no” sometimes in order to be a great daddy, a present husband, a buddy or for self-care. When a pastor says “no” to a church occasion, it should not be received as a sign that the pastor does not enjoy the sheep, however as a protective measure for the higher good of the church body so the pastor can continue serving them well. Our households feel the weight of our calling more than they will ever inform you. My kids are young, yet they feel the weight I bring home at times. So does my partner. Pastor’s families are aware of what they do and even the youngest member will feel the weight of what it means to lead a church. Be mindful that pastors are not contacted us to serve without it affecting the household who is called, even if by default, to be in the ministry along with them.

Eating well, working out well and sleeping well is effort for us. Pastors are frequently selfless to a fault. We will faster go serve someone than to work out, sleep or prioritize self-care. While it might sound great for a pastor like Pastor Tom to be selfless and think about others first, there is a balance to be practiced or it will not benefit the pastor or the individual being served. A lot of us are “Expert Extroverts.” Pastors need to do a great deal of deep thinking and study. We are used to being alone and really love it (most of us). We enjoy our time with people too, however we are frequently professional extroverts, connecting to crowds and leading individuals out of a secondary set of gifts. We understand we could earn money better doing something else, however we don’t wish to. We can’t do anything else … we could … however we “can’t” because this is what we like the most and are called to do. We stay despite the fact that we do not constantly feel it. Having a calling is more than a feeling– we face that reality frequently. Spiritual warfare is a way of life. The devil hates all Christians. I utilized to say that there is no chance he “dislikes” or targets pastors more. But the longer that I do this, the more I realize that the prevalent effects from a leader who falls puts an automated target on the pastor’s back for the opponent to lob his arrows. Spiritual warfare is simply part of the occupational hazard for a pastor. We are constantly battling our own sin too. Pastors are far from ideal. We have our own sins that we are constantly battling. Be patient with us. Pray for us. It takes us about 7 days to “unplug” for a meaningful and real getaway. It is ACTUALLY tough for pastors to unplug. When we go on getaway, it can take up to a week for us to unwind prior to we are completely present. I try to take one two-week getaway a year just so that I can have one week where I am really unplugged. It is difficult for us to have buddies. Individuals presume we have lots of buddies. Most of us do not. Consider it– our church is our place of worship, our workplace and our buddy circle; not 3 various contexts– all the same one. The management role of “pastor” is not a hat that can be quickly reserved in those contexts. That makes it tough to have pals. We likewise have problem with individuals who treat us as a pal and not “pastor.” It is not impossible for us to have friends, but it takes effort and sometimes our buddies are not in the churches where we serve. We work more than one day a week. People joke with me (almost weekly?) that I “just work one day a week, what is the big deal?” I know they are joking, but it is certainly not true. Due to the majority of contemporary pastors like Pastor Tom being expected to fill functions that are both spiritual and administrative; the majority of us just have one day OFF a week. It takes a lot of intentionality for us to have two days off a week. Wish your pastor in this and if you can, help him have times or rest. He needs them. Our greatest happiness is when our sheep “Get it.” When people understand what we are discipling them towards, or when a person “gets” salvation, we enjoy it. That is why we do this. We want them to love Christ and we like it when they “Get it.”. We are rewarded by being welcomed into a complete spectrum of life’s big minutes. Consider it, what other functions get to be an intimate part of births, deaths, baptisms, marriages, salvations, spiritual vacations, struggles and success? A physician tends to births and deaths. A therapist tends to battles and success. A pastor has the benefit of being welcomed into a complete spectrum of the “minutes” in lives of individuals he likes and serves. It is deeply satisfying, and is the among the special presents that makes it all worthwhile.

There’s a great deal of truly intriguing things to... published first on https://the4th3rd.tumblr.com

[spobyfanfictionarchive]

A Bleeding Heart: Chapter 13

AN: Hiiiii, so here's the next chapter ! (:

Okay, so I admit that this took a bit because I had written nearly 15,000 words before I decided to cut the chapter into two parts. That's just me. Overwriting everything lmao.

Thank you so much to everyone who reads and reviews, especially my repeaters. You guys mean everything to me.

Also, should I continue posting these chapters on Tumblr too? Because I notice that no one else really posts every chapter to their stories anymore on there and so I'm just wondering, is there anyone who solely reads this story on Tumblr?

The unyielding morning sun peeking through the blinds ripped her out of her slumber, unapologetically.

Before she could complain though, before her mouth would even cooperate, she was instantly acutely aware of her boyfriend's fingertips rubbing the bare skin on her back in circles, trailing down over her ass and legs.

"Mmm," she murmured instead, sleep still prevalent in her voice. "That feels nice."

He didn't say anything in response, but she heard his almost silent, blissful chuckle that always accompanied his genuinely elated smile. The smile she mostly saw when the tragedies in their lives were halted to a minimum. The smile she pretended only ever existed for her.

Her emotions, for once, matched his, as the events the day prior came back to her. After their first time, their first love making in over three years, they'd laid, basking in each other, for nearly an hour before going at it again. And again. And again. Until they'd realized they'd forgone all but one meal of the day and ordered the entire Sarrono's dinner menu.

She'd fallen asleep, after one last round, entirely on top on him, exhausted and full and more relaxed than she thought she'd ever been and more soothed than she believed she'd ever be again. Even all things considered.

Her ecstasy, her pure euphoria, that had only and always appeared whenever she was truly with the man that she loved with everything inside of her, had lasted all night and carried through into the morning.

That was, until she decided to roll over.

"Ah!" she yelped, clutching her side, unsure where she was even trying to grasp, so much of her body suddenly in distress.

"Spence," Toby's tone shifted to one of terror, panic seeping into every inch of his body. "Spencer, what is it?"

His palm made contact with her shoulder and another cry slid from her lips. "It hurts," she moaned, grinding her teeth.

His skin paled as he stared at her, tears already gathering in his eyes. "Is it-" he cut himself off, shaking his head, his thoughts too awful to vocalize. "Did I hurt you?"

Even in her current distress, she managed to refute his worries immediately, seeing where he mistook her words. "It's not that. I don't hurt there."

"Oh," he murmured, embarrassment and slight confusion evident in his voice. "Oh. Spence," he realized, his eyes softening as he took in her bare body again, as if seeing her for the first time.

"What?" she demanded, desperate to know what epiphany he'd just had.

"The medication is out of your system. Completely." He ran his hand down the length of her back down, rubbing gently, trying to alleviate a fraction of the discomfort. "Of course you're in pain. I should have realized-"

She narrowed her eyes, cutting him off, her body aching too badly to care she was being grumpy. "They were out of my system yesterday," she disputed. "I didn't feel like this."

"They were working their way out of you," he corrected evenly. "Now they're out."

Her chocolate brown orbs disappeared behind her eyelids. "Fuck," she spat, bringing her palm up to her face only to whimper miserably when it made contact. "Do you think it'll get worse?" She asked, warily.

The cop kissed her hair delicately. "I don't know, baby."

"Great."

"Is there anything I can do to make it better?" he asked, his eyes tortured from her suffering. But it was evident he was still relieved, on some level, that her pain had nothing to do with him, that it wasn't him that caused her pain.

The brunette shook her head, her eyes squeezing shut again as her face and neck screamed out at her, causing frustrated tears to well up in her mocha orbs. Countless places throbbed relentlessly and ruthlessly, all over her entire body.

"We can give you more of your prescription from Dr. Barnes," he offered desperately. "Okay, you don't have to stick with your resolve to stop taking them."

But even in her miserable state, she repudiated. "No," she shook her head, her voice attempting confidence.

"What about half a pill?" It was clear that seeing her like this left him fumbling for a concrete solution. The same way he always had in the past, doing whatever it took to make her life even the slightest bit easier.

"Toby."

"I don't want you to be hurting," he whispered, helpless and exposed, his fingers still gently running through her hair, the one place he knew he could touch her without eliciting further suffering.

"Its okay, Tobes. I'll survive," she promised weakly, resigning herself to suffering through this. She turned slightly, ignoring how her body viciously fought the action.

Toby chuckled humorlessly. "You are not supposed to be comforting me," he remarked, smirking slightly.

She let out a soft laugh before regretting it as her chest rejected that act too.

The cop saw and brought his lips lightly down to her bare skin.

Oddly enough, the sensation didn't add to the ache but actually diminished a little fragment of it. Feeling her body relax under his mouth, the sandy brunette moved higher, brushing his lips against her collarbone, the side of her neck, underneath her jaw.

When he'd pulled back, she pouted playfully. "Keep going," she ordered, attempting to tug him closer again.

"Spencer."

"It was helping," she insisted. "Let's just stay in bed today and you can keep doing that and we can-"

He cut her off, seeing where this was going. "I don't think sex is going to make your body feel better, sweetheart."

"It might," she argued.

He chuckled, using his hand to sweep her hair back from her face before vaguely complying with her request and bringing his lips to the corner of her mouth, the gash in her forehead, a bruise on her cheek. "Why don't I run us a bath and we'll see if that makes you feel better?" he suggested, his lips still against her tender, soft skin.

She sighed, not requiring excess persuasion. "Okay," she agreed, her smile already returning as he carefully lifted her in his arms and carried her, front to front, into the bathroom.

As he set her down, as gently as humanly possible, the brunette caught a glimpse of her full body reflection in the mirror, for the first time since massacre. Her jaw nearly hit the ground.

"Oh my god."

"Lean forward," Toby directed, rubbing her back softly with a sopping wet cloth. "Relax."

"I'm trying," she murmured as she took a deep breath in, allowing her boyfriend to continue his ministrations.

He worked the cloth all over her arms and chest before an involuntary howl expelled itself from her mouth. "Did that hurt?" he asked sympathetically, his lips planting a kiss on the back of her neck.

"Yeah," she admitted, her voice wavering. He knew how much she hated admitting weakness. How much pain she must be in to be this upfront about it.

"Come here." He dropped the cloth into the hot water and guided her back, leaning against his chest, her head laid against his neck. He ran his hands up and down her arm, raising goose-bumps in their wake. "Do you feel any better at all?"

"Yeah," she smiled against his throat. It wasn't big but it was genuine and that mattered more to him. "Yeah, I do. Thank you."

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to her hairline. "I'll always take care of you, Spence."

"I know," she murmured cheekily and her smile turned into a smirk.

"Is the water getting too cold?" he checked abruptly, unwrapping only one arm from around her and testing it with his hand, as if he wasn't engrossed in it.

"No," she rebutted adamantly, pulling his arm back. "You made sure the water was scorching. Even in my opinion."

He gave her a sheepish look. "I just wanted to make sure it was hot enough to help you."

"I know, babe. And it was," she assured. "It was hot enough that polio patients would have had use of their limbs again."

"It's amazing to me that you think Hanna exaggerates more than you."

"That's insulting."

"Truth hurts, my love."

She let out a laugh, a real, authentic, legitimate giggle, before gazing down at her beat up figure once again. "God, how did you manage to find me attractive enough to sleep with last night," she marveled.

"Spencer."

"No, seriously. I knew I was sort of beat up but I didn't have a clue it was this bad. I wouldn't have stripped off all my clothes the other night if I'd known I was covered head to toe in bruises."

"You're not," he disagreed.

"The mirror begs to differ."

When she'd caught a glimpse of her full body in the bathroom mirror, she had been floored by the number of scrapes and bruises laid on her stomach and legs. She'd known from the hospital that she'd obtained cuts and bruises all over her face and neck, some even extending to her chest and arms. But she hadn't anticipated finding countless more, scattered all over her body.

No wonder it hurt so bad to even move.

No wonder the hospital had practically proscribed her morphine.

"There's not as many as you think," he insisted, rubbing her legs tenderly, avoiding placing pressure on the dark bruises. "And how did you not notice them until now? You're losing your detective skills in your old age, Nancy Drew."

She gave him a look. "I'm not the most observant on drugs."

"I thought the drugs were out of your system yesterday?" he shot back.

Instead of a witty comeback, the brunette just grimaced up at him. "I wasn't in this much pain yesterday."

He shut his eyes, his demeanor shifting, as his arms tightened around her. "I'm sorry," he whispered to her for what must have been the thousandth time.

"Not your fault," she murmured back, touching the area around her nose, where she could now feel the slices cut through her delicate skin, feel the slashes around her eyes, feel the angry, battered skin that was splotched across her entire face.

She felt her boyfriend's lips on her forehead, kissing her stitches, and let out a breath she didn't mean to hold.

"They're actually healing really quickly," Toby noted, hoping it would console her.

Of course though, Spencer took the negative approach. "How much worse did I look in the hospital?"

"You didn't-"

"Please, Toby," she cut off, not in the mood to be comforted with well-intended white lies.

He rolled his tongue around his mouth once before answering. "You had a black eye when you were admitted. It's basically gone now. And a lot of your bruises on your stomach have turned purple."

Her brow furrowed. "What the hell were they?"

"Black."

The brunette shuddered against him and he pressed his lips to her hair. She knew he hated telling her these things. He hated having to tell her anything that solidified the reality they were both facing. The horrors that had happened that night, that couldn't be escaped, no matter how much love they had for each other.

He wanted to fix everything for her. After years and years of dedication to alleviate her nightmares, even when they weren't together, she knew it killed a part of him that he had to live with the fact that unspeakable things had been done that night to the person he loved most and he couldn't protect her from them.

She also knew, just by the way he caressed her body, the way he affectionately rubbed her back, the specific places she now realized he'd been kissing all along, that he felt responsible for the physical abuse she'd suffered that night.

In the back of her mind, she made a vow to never tell him about the latest memory that had come back. There was no reason he had to hear about her, quite literally, getting the shit kicked out of her.

No question where the black bruises on her stomach came from.

"They also thought your head wound was a lot more serious when the paramedics first saw you," Toby added, drawing her out of her thoughts and back into reality.

"When the paramedics first saw me?" She snorted. "You mean when you rescued me and brought me to the paramedics?"

He chuckled, somewhat abashed. "I keep forgetting you know about that."

"Well it's a pretty serious thing for someone to do for you. Doesn't happen every day," she teased. "Makes it kind of memorable."

He raised an eyebrow, matching her expression. "Aren't you lucky?"

"I think so," she smirked and raised her head up to kiss him.

The kiss was chaste, as they both knew her body wasn't in the mood for sex. Nonetheless, their mouths moved together in perfect, lazy synchronization, as if this were an old song they were singing, that they'd belted out a million times before. As if they were literally so connected, they could feel the other's thoughts. As if this were their comfort blanket, sheltering them from every awful thing they had to endure out in the world.

When they broke apart, it wasn't because they wanted to. It wasn't because she was in pain. It wasn't because the water was dropping in temperature-which it still was not. It was because a cell phone started to ring and suddenly, the realization that the real world still existed dampened both their moods.

"I'll get it," Toby murmured, resigned to ending their time alone.

He pressed another kiss to her shoulder before slipping out from underneath her and grabbing a supplied towel.

Gripping his shoulder as she hobbled unsteadily onto the bathmat, she complained, "Even living together, someone is always constantly interrupting us."

He snickered as he accepted the call. "Hello?" The cop greeted, reaching for another towel. "Uh, hi, yeah, this is him."

Spencer shot him a questioning look as he wrapped the second towel around her dripping body, but he kept his eyes trained on the ground, listening intently to whoever was on the other line.

Choosing to do something more productive with her time than watch Toby on the phone, the brunette walked-or stumbled would be more accurate- towards the bed, thanking her rare lucky stars that motel rooms were so cramped.

She grabbed her clothes while listening in, like the nosy girlfriend they both openly knew she was. "Thank you so much, sir!" she heard the twenty-four-year old's voice raise an octave. "Thank you!"

Her chocolate brown eyes narrowed into slits, confused about who the hell he was speaking to. Toby was shy and introverted, even on the phone. He wasn't big on exceedingly flamboyant emotions until he practically knew someone, inside and out.

Before Spencer could debate if it was worth the hobble back into the bathroom, she heard her boyfriend's voice sober up. "Before you go, can I ask what changed their minds?"

Almost as if he knew she were listening, he turned on the faucet and-for some reason-decided to get his toothbrush ready to clean his teeth. "Thank you again," he repeated appreciatively as he hung up.

She was still pulling her clothes on when he joined her. "Oh, Spence," he murmured to her, catching her pained expression at attempting to hook her bra. "Why didn't you call me?"

"I got it," she maintained, even though her voice was completely void of volume from lack of breath. Ignoring her words, he carefully hooked her bra before leaning down and planting a kiss in the center of her back. "Thank you," she murmured, contradicting her own self.

"I like helping," he insisted, as she let out a sigh, leaning back against him.

"So who was your friend?" she asked precipitously, looking up at him through her long eyelashes.

"My friend?"

"The guy you thanked over and over again on the phone?"

"Oh!" Comprehension flickered across his face, and Spencer was caught off-guard once again by his enthusiasm. "That was Martin Kayne."

"The realtor?" she verified, turning around to stare at him, utterly confused.

"He said we can have the apartment this month, for less rent."

Spencer just stared at him for a long moment, not comprehending. "But I thought-"

"The current tenets agreed," he stated softly, a grin on his lips as she processed the information.

"Are you serious?" she asked as it sunk in.

"Spence, would I be telling-"

"Oh my god! I'm getting my apartment!" she exclaimed, flinging herself straight into his arms, biting back a scream at the way her body rebelled against the action. Her exhilaration brought temporary adrenaline. Enough of it that her emotions outweighed her physical pain.

"Um, I thought we'd both live there."

"Oh yeah, don't worry. You can have a corner."

"Thanks, babe. Your generosity astounds me."

She smirked, pressing a kiss to corner of his mouth, wrapping her arms around his neck. "I suppose you can share the bed with me."

"Mmm," he murmured, leaning in to connect their lips once again. "Throw in an old futon and I'm in."

"I'll do you one better. We can even bring your old quilt."

"You know how to get to me."

She giggled as she brought her head back down on his shoulder, planting her lips there too. "Thank you, Toby. For more than just this."

"I didn't do anything," he insisted, rubbing her back. "The tenets just changed their minds."

She stiffened against him, hearing the words for a second time. Something about them felt extremely off, all of a sudden. "Why would they, out of the blue, have a change of heart?" The cop simply shrugged, his hand trailing up into her hair to massage her scalp lightly. "Toby," she pressed, in the demanding tone she reserved only for him.

He sighed, his chest pressed against her's, his hand stilling in her hair. "They may have heard about…what happened during the open house."

Instantly her manner shifted, her excitement evaporating and in its place came her pride and shame. "I can't do that," she stated evenly, her voice quieter now. "We can't move in there."

"Spencer-"

She cut him off, already knowing what he'd say. "Toby, I'm not moving in some place that I'm only getting because I acted like a lunatic!"

"You did not act like a lunatic!"

"I'm not going to be these people's charity case!"

At that, his expression softened. Rubbing both his hands up and down her arms, he shook his head. "You're not anyone's charity case, baby."

His words made her lose her defensive edge. "They're going to take less money and move out faster, because some girl they saw on the news lost her shit during their open house? That's a charity case. Plain and simple."

He reached out to tuck a lock of her hair behind her ear, his expression turning introspective. "Do you remember when we sat in your hospital room and read your mail? All the letters you got from random strangers, full of money? Do you remember what I said?"

"What, that people want to help those who have been through hell?"

"Yes. And that doesn't make you a charity case. It makes them nice people."

The brunette sighed, looking down at her lap. He was doing everything he could to ease her shame and all she was doing was being difficult. "I'm really sorry that I'm putting you through all this."

He was shaking his head before she was even finished speaking, his turn now to narrow his eyes. "Don't even start on that, Spence. There is nowhere on this planet I'd rather be than sitting here with you."

She smiled faintly. "I'll think about it," she amended as she leaned back into his arms, her head finding it's place on his chest, right above his heartbeat.

"Okay," he agreed, pressing his lips into her chestnut hair. "That's all I ask."

The cop ran his hand up and down her back, gently, attempting to alleviate her aching pain. It was impossible for him not to notice the tension that still resided in her body.

"Hey, what is it?" he asked, peering down at her face.

"Nothing," she mumbled, not meeting his eyes.

"Tell me."

She sighed, before relenting. "I'm just not happy that my spazzing out during the open house is public knowledge."

"You were not spazzing out."

"Toby."

"Spence, it's not like it was on the eleven o' clock news. It was probably just told to the tenets."

"Yeah, right," she snorted. "This is Rosewood. People have nothing else to do but gossip about things like me."

"Things like you?"

"Tragedies. Novelty. Disasters. Psychos."

"Spencer."

"Come on, Toby. You've been the town pariah. You've been an outcast. You've been one of Rosewood's finest. You know this town, inside and out. Tell me that everyone who saw me at that open house isn't telling anyone who'll listen what happened."

The cop sighed but had no way to deny it, had no way of protecting her from the residents of the town and their rude, invasive, insensitive ways.

When he couldn't respond, couldn't find a way to amend the broken truth, he chose to comfort her physically instead, trailing his hand up into her hair again.

"Mmm!" she complained, but now not in pleasure, but utter pain. "That fucking hurts," she whimpered.

"Sorry," he whispered contritely, his lips replacing his hand. "I'll go get you some Asprin. See if that helps."

He kissed her head once more time before climbing off the bed, leaving her lying against the stiff mattress, too exhausted and sore to bother sitting up again.

If she thought the dizziness was exasperating, the constant and complete pain she was in now was a whole new kind of irritant. Instead of having to struggle to get through the tasks she was determined to prevail through, she had no motive to do anything but lie with her boyfriend in bed.

Which was all she planned on doing, when her phone out of the blue started chirping. "Hello?" she murmured into the speaker, her voice weary, already recognizing the number.

"Hey, Spence!" Hanna's voice rang brightly from the other side. "What're you doing?"

"Nothing, just… lying around," she answered truthfully as Toby returned with her pain pill and a glass of water she didn't need.

She dry swallowed the pill with no effort, smirking up at the cop. He rolled his eyes, mouthing, "impressive," at her smug expression.

Hanna scoffed noisily. "Spencer Hastings is vegging out?"

"Spencer Hastings feels like she got hit by a car. It changes a person's motivation."

"Okay, that actually happened to me, and I literally felt no different."

The brunette chuckled. "You claimed you needed to be waited on hand and foot," she reminded.

"Yeah and that's not much different than usual," the bubbly girl laughed. "Listen, I didn't call you to compare how pathetic our collected pain is."

"Collective," Spencer automatically corrected, gazing down at a particularly dark bruise, barely listening now.

"I just wanted to know if you want to go out to breakfast?"

"Sure," she automatically answered, gazing up at Toby who had moved towards his own phone and was pondering through his own messages. "Is Toby invited?"

"Duh." She could practically see her friend rolling her eyes. "I meant breakfast with everyone. Me and Aria and Em and Caleb and Ali and Jason-"

"I like how you snuck in Caleb's name, like I wouldn't notice," Spencer called out.

She heard Hanna take in a deep breath, her demeanor shifting into a much more sober one. "Listen, Spence, I want to go out for you. So if you have a problem with him being there or you feel like it's too awkward or strange or bizarre or whatever, I'll make him stay home-"

"Han, it's fine. I was just giving you a hard time," the brunette promised, chuckling. "Bring Caleb, bring whoever, I don't care. Did you ever break up with Jordan, by the way?"

"No, Spencer, I just got back together with Caleb while still planning my wedding to another guy," Hanna snorted. "No crap, I dumped him."

"How'd that go?"

"Surprisingly uneventful. I did it over text."

"Hanna!"

"I know! I'm awful, okay? But I was scared and plus, this way I get to keep the ring-"

"Hanna!"

"Spencer! It's a diamond!"

She cackled once, peering over at Toby who was giving her a peculiar look. She shook her head once, knowing he really couldn't care less about Hanna's drama.

"So you're definitely up for breakfast?" the blonde confirmed.

"Yes," she assured. "Just give me at least an hour. I need the Asprin to kick in before I'm going out to eat."

"Sure," her friend agreed, chewing now into the speaker.

"Are you already eating?"

"I'm starving, you twig!"

"Sorry. Uh wait, can we not go to The Radley?" The mental hospital, turned hotel was probably the very last place the brunette wanted to be.

"Oh please, my mom runs that place. Like I need to eat there every day. What about that place in town that you used to like?"

"Han, you hate that place."

"Yeah but you don't-"

"Is something wrong?" Spencer suddenly cut off. "Do you know something I don't?"

"What are you talking about?"

"You hate Fiona's and you hate waiting. You always complain that you want to go when you want to go. And you-"

The blonde cut her off, already knowing what she was going to say. "This isn't about what I want. It's about you. I just wanted to see you and make sure you're okay."

But they'd been close for far too long for Spencer to let it go, just like that. "Hanna, what's going on?"

Her friend let out a loud, dramatic sigh. "Fine. I heard about the open house." At her words Spencer's stomach dropped, her gaze instantly meeting Toby's across the tiny room.

His eyes were instantly on alert. "What's wrong," he pressed, making it over to her in three strides. She shook her head, turning away from him, adverting her stare. "Spence."

"Spencer," Hanna called her attention back. "We all just wanted to see you. Okay, please. We worry about you."

The brunette shut her eyes, hating the way word traveled around town so fast, hating the way humiliation spread across her entire body over something she had no control over, hating the way she was always right.

But she couldn't blame the girls for being concerned and, if she were being absolutely truthful with herself, she appreciated the fact that there were people in her life that wanted to check on her, wanted to know if she were alright.

As if he knew exactly what she was thinking-and sometimes she thought he did-Toby placed his hand gently on her back, further reminding her how different things could be. There were times in that boy's life, so dark, so bleak, so completely hopeless and desolate, and he had no one in his corner. He had no one there to make sure he was alright, to hug him and to worry about him.

He had no one but himself to pull him through heartbreaks and abuse that most mid-aged adults couldn't even imagine.

So how could she take for granted the people who cared about her?

"I'll see you guys in an hour."

"Are you sure about this?" Toby asked for the third time as he pulled on a blue t-shirt.

Spencer sighed, gazing at him from the corner of her eye. "I told you, babe, that Advil really did work wonders. I mean, I still kind of feel like I got my ass handed to me, but it's not at the forefront of my brain anymore."

"I'm glad." He shot her a small smile. "But that's not why I was asking."

"Is this about Caleb? Because I swear I really don't give a crap if he's there or not. I have way too much going on in my brain to-"

"No, Spence, I'm not talking about Caleb," he disputed. "I mean, are you sure about going out to eat?"

She shot him a perplexed look, reaching for her brush. "Why would you ask me that?" she questioned, sitting on the edge of the bed. "We went out to dinner two days ago and I was fine? Not only that, but you didn't even question if I would be? Why is th-"

"I made sure that we went to a relatively empty place," the cop admitted, solemnly. "I made sure there was next to no chance if anything triggering you."

She stared at him, taken aback. "You did what?"

"Spence-"

"Why wouldn't you tell me that?" she pressed and his gut twisted into knots at the betrayal in her chocolate brown eyes.

He stared at her, at loss for words. "I just…"

"What?"

He sighed, adverting his eyes, almost like having to admit this to her physically pained him. He never wanted her to believe he thought there was anything she couldn't handle. He always believed in her, under any circumstances under the sun.

But at the same time, they both needed to be realistic about her condition, whatever that may be. Pretending everything was rainbows and sunshine wouldn't get her better, wouldn't heal her or give her any semblance of a normal life and, if they both weren't careful, the doctors-or even her parents-might force her back into the hospital. And this time, it would without a doubt be to the psych ward.

"Dr. Barnes said we need to be careful about going into overly populated places," he reminded, his eyes begging for her to understand. Understand him, understand his anxieties, understand that he loved her and all he wanted was for her to be okay.

She didn't show him that exactly, though he really didn't expect her to. She didn't lash out at him either though, like he feared. Instead she forced her tough exterior, her Hastings face, and stated evenly, "I'm fine, okay? I can handle a crowd."

"Baby," he knelt down in front of her spot at the edge of the bed. "What happened yesterday-"

"Was a fluke," she insisted, pushing his hand away as it tried to cup her cheek. "I swear, Toby, I'm fine."

He looked at her, a heartbroken gleam in his eyes, before nodding. "Okay," he whispered, picking up one of her hands. "It's your choice," he promised. "It's always going to be your choice."

And even in her irritation, even in her aggravated state, her heart tugged the slightest bit at his words.

He really did everything out of love for her.

She sighed before moving to wrap her arms around his neck, her face finding residence in the space where his neck met his shoulder. Breathing in his scent, the smell to her that her brain registered as home, she murmured, "I promise you, this will be okay."

He shut his eyes, reciprocating the hug and prayed to God that she was right.

She knew his bad feeling about going out to breakfast didn't evaporate with her reassurances. It didn't relieve him at all to hear her promises, as they both knew she couldn't keep them. When it came down to it, the trauma she'd suffered, the demons in her head, the fractures in her heart, were stronger than her.

But she was going to fight like hell, until she managed to beat them.

That was what she told herself.

That was the strength just being with him gave her.

By the time they arrived at Fiona's, their friends were just barely getting out of their car.

"Spence," Aria called, flying towards the brunette as soon as she had shut the passenger's side door.

"Hey," she returned the embrace, grimacing slightly as her sore body rejected the shorter girl's tight squeeze.

"Oh my god, I'm sorry," Aria's expressive green eyes instantly widened, the notion of unintentionally hurting her friend dawning on her.

But Spencer was no longer paying attention to Aria or any of the others gathered by the door.

Instead her focus was on the people inside the restaurant. The people staring out at her, unashamed, through the grimy, unwashed glass.

The stares didn't bother her. Not in a way that left her feeling self-conscious or ashamed, at least. No, they pissed her off. They burned a fire inside her, a rage that was so familiar to her, it was like an actual facet of her personality.

Because she knew them. She knew every last one of them.

They were all friends-or at the very least, acquaintances-of her parents. Every single person staring at her, like she was a spider, like she was the walking embodiment of a contagious illness, had known her since she was practically in diapers. They watched her grow up. They attended every last one of her parents' stupid parties for her and Melissa. They pretended to give a damn about her accomplishments.

And now they looked at her, like she was a disgrace to society.

She was simmering, her blood boiling underneath her skin, when she felt a much larger palm-far too large to be Aria's-slip into her's and propel her forward.

Toby met her eyes and she could tell he knew exactly what she was thinking. Better yet, his thoughts were aligned with her's.

He had never taken well to seeing her experience any sort of maltreatment, no matter how unavoidable or expected it was in her circumstances.

As she walked through the entrance, right on her boyfriend's heels, she almost had to bite back a sardonic laugh. Not one pair of eyes had adverted from her figure. Not one person was ashamed to be caught staring at her.

And she realized this was the first time she had gone out into such a public place since the massacre.

This was the first time she was truly in the presence of the residents of Rosewood.

This was exactly what Toby had feared.

No one hid the fact that they were whispering about her. Their words were quiet but their mouths moved noticeably, as if she was on the oblivious side of a two way mirror.

She felt the eyes, not just of the noisy country clubbers, but of every of her friends now on her face. They were all more than aware of the attention she was receiving.

It was Toby who spoke first, drawing her closer to him before whispering in her ear, "Babe, we can go somewhere else."

"No," she instantly rejected. "We're not going anywhere."

All seven pairs of eyes shot her quizzical looks.

"Spence."

"Are you sure?"

"If they're staring at her face, I'm going to cut them in half."

"Do you want me to go over there and tell them to fuc-"

"Han!"

"You don't need to be brave, Spence."

Waving her hand to cut them all off, the twenty-three-year old simply shook her head, hearing Toby's words in her head yesterday, hearing the truth behind them now.

It didn't matter what a bunch of strangers thought of her. These were people who would move onto the next tragedy–and Rosewood never failed to have another-whenever it came, forgetting all about her in the drop of a hat.

She had problems too big to worry about what they thought of her.

"So," Hanna started, staring down at the menu in her hand, scanning it undoubtedly for the unhealthiest thing she could find. "Spence."

"Yes?" The brunette barely looked up from the menu sitting in front of her and Toby.

"Do you ever have to go back to work? You know? In D.C?"

Her question elicited a strange reaction from Spencer. One she didn't predict.

"No," she snorted.

"No?" Emily's head snapped up. "Really? You quit?"

Toby flexed his jaw, already knowing the story and disgruntled with the outcome. "I got fired," Spencer informed, her tone completely blasé.

"You got fired?" Aria's mouth fell open. Down at the end of the table, Jason dropped his menu in uncharacteristic surprise.

"How could they fire you?" Hanna pressed, unable to process the idea that their brilliant and ambitious best friend, that had been called D.C's brightest young lobbyist, had been terminated.

All the response the brunette offered was a shrug. "They called and talked to my dad while I was still in the hospital. I don't know, evidently they called more than once but I was too focused on other things, and eventually they just told my dad that," she eyed Toby, licking her lips for sardonic emphasis, "they felt these extenuating circumstances would keep me away from D.C for an extended period of time and thought it was better to just make a clean break."

All the girls glanced at each other, wanting to say something, do something, have some assortment of words that could make it better.

It was Jason though that spoke first. "That's complete-"

"Bullshit?" Toby finished for him, his expression irate. Same as it was every time this topic came up.

"Spencer, you can sue them," Caleb pointed out from the opposite end of the table.

"I know," she nodded, because she knew it was true. She probably could sue them for wrongful termination. "But I'm not going to bother. It's not that big of a deal."

She remembered when she'd been told-she could barley retain what day it was or what exact events had occurred before or after. She remembered her mom's uptight expression and how her dad had told her he'd figure out a way to fight this and how Toby had been caught completely off-guard, clearly not privy to this information prior to her and how Melissa had raised an eyebrow, waiting for Spencer's reaction almost challengingly.

She remembered being more relieved than anything else as this meant she didn't have to worry about keeping her bosses updated on her condition. She didn't have to explain when she was-or was not-coming back to D.C. She didn't have to worry about being tied to another city, especially when the only person who could ground her right now was anchored to Rosewood.

She was especially grateful that she didn't have to explain to her bosses that her memory was coming back in random snippets, that left her hysterical and incoherent and terrified. She didn't have to let anyone else in on her potential mental deterioration.

Once upon a time, it would have disturbed her parents to witness her lack of reaction to losing something she'd worked so hard for. But when they took in her detached demeanor, when they watched her cork an eyebrow and struggle with relief and disappointment and apprehension, before deciding it was for the best and she had no interest in forcing her job back, they'd both given her uncharacteristic support, telling her she didn't need that job, that she was better off, that she was right to let it go.

It had floored Toby almost as much as her. When they were alone again, soon after, he had commented that maybe, after all these years, her parents had finally gained perspective on what truly mattered in life.

She'd liked his words, but as much as she wished they were true, she couldn't help the small, nagging part of her that suggested that they may have just been happy to minimize her drama so they didn't have to deal with it.

Her bubbly blonde friend's voice tugged her out of her thoughts. "So," she prefaced loudly, eying Spencer anxiously.

The brunette just stared at her, unable to decipher what she was asking. "So?"

"Have you, like…remembered anything?" Hanna finally asked.

"Hanna," Emily cautioned, as both Aria and Toby shot her menacing looks.

"What, Em? I'm her best friend-you're her best friend. Why can't we ask?" Hanna defended, her gaze shifting back to Spencer, who still hadn't answered.

"Spence, if you don't want to," Aria started, instantly on guard, scared of setting the brunette off, like a gun with the trigger already halfway pulled.

"Yeah," Emily agreed, her tone placid. "If you're not comfortable, you don't have to tell us anything."

Both Aria and Emily were attempting to put her first. Both of them wanted to make sure they didn't trigger her. They were going out of their way to protect her.

And she hated it. She should have been grateful and she felt a large pang of guilt seep its way into the pit of her stomach, because she should have unbelievably happy to have friends who loved her. Who wanted to shield her and wanted to defer any sort of panic they could. Who would ignore the large, ever present elephant in the room, for her.

But what she truly appreciated was Hanna's bluntness. Hanna's blithe, unashamed attitude. Her inability to walk on eggshells around the brunette.

Nothing irritated her more than being treated like a piece of glass.

Especially by people who had expected her to be their backbone for almost the entire last decade.

Her irritation flared up and, before she could find it in herself to care how inconsiderate it was to take it out on people who were trying to make her life easier, she snapped, "Why wouldn't I be comfortable talking about it? It's just a bunch of memories resurfacing of being kidnapped, beaten and watching strangers be either petrified or murdered. Who wouldn't want to have story time with that?"

At her words, every pair of eyes stayed glued on her face, stuck in a trance, their vocal cords suddenly severed.

Except for one person, who had seen enough darkness in her life, especially recently, and had less sensitivity and less of a filter than anyone else seated at the table. "Was everyone a stranger?"

Spencer snapped her head towards Alison, the words a shock to her psyche. "What?" She stared at her friend, completely mystified now.

"Was everyone with you in that building a stranger?"

"Spencer," Toby's hand rubbed her shoulder, quivering slightly. She could feel the agitation in his body language. This prospect wasn't news to him, but he had hoped she wouldn't put it together. He'd hoped she would remain oblivious to this fact for as long as she possibly could.

She knew some people in the massacre.

Suddenly, as if her brain was rapidly clicking buttons, swiftly adding a missing piece to the puzzle in her head, she heard with absolute clarity, Tanner and Lorenzo's voices the day they'd questioned her.

"How would you describe your relationship to Sydney Driscoll?"

"What about Noel Kahn?"

"Are you friends with Lucas Gottesman?"

"How well did you know Kenna Greenbrook?"

"What about Maddie Coffman?"

"Do you remember Krystal Loot?"

"What about Eddie Lamb?"

"Toby," she gasped, her voice suddenly breathless, akin to coming up for air after being suffocated underwater. "That day. That day in the hospital when Tanner and Lorenzo came to the hospital. They were telling me something. They were telling me the names of all the people who died," she implored, her eyes as wide as saucers.

"Spence," Emily whispered, reaching out to touch the shaky girl's arm.

But the brunette's eyes never left the cop. "Why didn't I put this together that day? Why didn't I realize…"

The twenty-four-year old just stared at her, heartbreak in his gaze and for a split second, she wondered if he knew something she didn't. If he thought protecting her from every last facet of information she could get her hands on was best. If he, despite knowing she needed to remember, wanted to keep her from reliving that night.

She wondered if he thought she was better off not knowing.

"Spencer," he finally said, breaking her out of her reverie, his voice was no louder than a breath. "It's not like that."

"Toby, I know the names of the people who were killed," she exclaimed, her gaze flickering over their entire table of friends, relieved for reasons she didn't comprehend that most of them seemed as taken aback by the revelation as she was. "I was so caught up in the fact that they were accusing me playing some part in it, that I never stopped to realize that they were telling me the names."

The cop bit his lip before answering, his voice low and only audible to her. "Do you remember after you woke up when I first told you what had happened? Or what was known?" Her eyes narrowed at his words, waiting to see where he was going. "Not everyone who was in that building with you was murdered."

"Eight bodies were found."

"The other nine are still missing."

Her breathing hitched as her eyes remained locked with his. "You mean the nine people. The nine people whose bodies were never found," she corrected, reminding him of his own words.

"Yes."

"Spence," Ali whispered, seeing where her coarseness inadvertently led the conversation. "I'm sorry-"

"It's not your fault," the brunette instantly murmured, not even bothering to turn and look at her.

The cop didn't seem to agree but he wisely chose to pick his battles. "Sweetheart," he whispered, seeing how her eyes were filling up, more so out of stress and consternation at the sudden revelation than actual sorrow.

His hand rose up to cup her cheek when she squeezed her eyes shut and mumbled, "I'm sorry," to the rest of their friends. "I'm really sorry, you guys, I just-I can't do this."

She backed away from the table, not waiting for her boyfriend or friends to follow her outside.

The second the fresh air hit her face, she gulped it up, desperate for breath.

She noticed that it felt like she hadn't exhaled in days.

Her lungs were shaky as she tried to take oxygen in, tried to calm herself down, tried to get a grasp on herself.

She knew all along though, it was futile.

She heard Toby and their friends behind her, heard them slow their pace, halt in their tracts in order not to startle her. She wanted to turn around and tell them everything way alright, tell them they had no reason to worry, that she was fine now and they could head back inside, have breakfast and pretend she wasn't an anchor, dragging them all down.

But before she could find the words, a loud distress signal sounded from down the street.

A loud, blaring siren.

A sound that was all too familiar to her.

"Get him away!" screamed the girl next to her. "Get him the fuck away!"

Spencer felt herself being tugged in tighter, being pulled right up against a much larger, broader body. A body that could only belong to a man. A man in the Navy.

The man was trying to protect her. He was shielding her. He was trying to save her life.

Her arms were entangled so tight with the screaming girl next to her, their hands fused together so firmly, that when she was pulled into the man's arms, she brought the girl with her.

Before them laid the body of the now deceased boy. A boy they had all watched be shot to death. A boy that she didn't recognize, didn't know by name, didn't even know if she'd ever spoken a word to, but now she'd never be able to forget.

A loud siren blared from above, the speakers blasting out of the ceiling.

But the alarm bell wasn't what scared her, wasn't what forced her heart to skip a beat in the most horrendous way possible, wasn't what made her back grow damp with swamp, wasn't what made her involuntarily gag.

It was what happened when it stopped.

She couldn't help the sob that ejected itself out of her mouth, the cry of utter confusion and devastation and anguish and she knew, right then and there, that she would never see the light of day again. That everything she'd worked for in her life was completely redundant as she sat on the ground, huddled in a three person ball, wishing she'd spent more time with the people she loved. Wishing that she had been a better person, a better friend, a better daughter even.

Wishing she'd been better to Toby. Wishing she'd not let her pride get in the way. Wishing she would have put everything on the line, regardless of who he was with, how he felt and the infinite possibility of rejection.

The one thing she was grateful for, the one moment above all else that she was truly proud of, was her confession of love the night before. She'd told everyone exactly how she'd felt about him.

He knew.

Even if she didn't live to see the next hour, he'd always know how she'd felt. That there was no one and nothing that could ever take his place in her heart. That no matter where she went, and who she was with, she would always somehow end up in front of him, with her heart involuntarily in her hands, begging him to love her the way only he knew how.

"Shhh," the man hushed, hugging her closer to him, smothering her face into his white polo shirt. The girl on her other side, separated their linked hands and brought the pads of her fingertips up against Spencer's face, wiping away the tears and blood that coursed down her cheeks.

Before anyone could utter a syllable, the siren stopped, silence filled the air, and then a gunshot rang so loud and so clear that it felt like the only thing that existed in the world.

Her chest heaved as the girl next to her dug her nails deep into the underside of the brunette's arm. Deep enough that she could practically feel her skin being torn open.

"Please, stop," Spencer whispered, too quiet for anyone outside their huddle to hear, too quiet for anyone else to notice. Her words weren't to the girl slicing her skin open though. They were to their tormentor. "Please, please, please, stop."

She felt the girl's thin arms wrap around her neck and squeeze her tighter, as if they were best friends, as if they had known each other forever.

But it was the man protecting them at the forefront of her mind. The man who was willing to lose his own life, in order to save theirs.

And, unlike the boy on the floor, splattered in blood, cold as an ice cube and still as a thousand year old portrait, she knew this man.

She knew this man.

[becuzpurple]

Because Purple - Chapter 23:  Well & Truly

It’s finally done!!!!!

Since it’s been a while, I’ll summarize the last chapter:  It’s early February 2016.  Ed returned to Chicago.  Kate’s staying at his hotel with him for one night (her parents have the kids).  The plan is for them to meet the next day, which happens in this chapter.

The opening scene of this chapter takes place just a few hours after the last chapter ended.

I hope you like it!  Feedback is always very-much appreciated.  :-)

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

Previous Chapter

WARNING:  some smuts occur

CHAPTER 23 – Well & Truly

 Saturday February 6, 2016 (early, early morning)

I awoke abruptly, in a bit of a sleep-fog.  I stayed still, and waited for my head to clear.  We seemed to have been sleeping like spoons, but I was the big spoon.  We were both laying on our right sides.  I was curled into Ed from behind, my left leg slung over his, and my left arm around his chest.  His back was my pillow.  We were still naked.  He was still asleep.

I couldn’t see a clock from where I was, but we must have been sleeping for only a few hours.  It was very dark, and I could feel the heavy silence of the night surrounding us.  The room was quiet and still.  Morning was hours away.

I don't know why I woke up.  

I lightly squeezed him in a hug and took a deep breath as I burrowed my cheek against his broad back.  He smelled good - like his soap - a subtle blend of citrus and spices - but also of sex.  Ed smelled like soap and sex.  I stifled a small giggle at that thought, and lightly kissed him between his shoulder blades before laying my cheek back down on him again.

He shifted, and I felt him take a deep breath.

I stilled, holding my breath, wondering if I woke him.  

A few seconds later he lay his hand over mine, which was still pressed to his chest.  He laced his fingers through mine and skimmed my open palm down his chest, then over his belly, and finally to his cock.

I closed my hand around him as he slowly guided me over his length a few times.  He otherwise didn’t move or make a sound, and I wondered how awake he actually was.

Once it was evident that I was willing and able to take over what he started, he moved his hand to my wrist.  He’d stopped controlling my movements, but he held me firmly.  It seemed to be a deliberate action, so I figured he must be more awake than not.

It was so dark in the room I could just barely see him right in front of me.  Because of our positioning, I couldn’t see what I was doing to him.  So, essentially, I had no sight.  I touched him blindly.

It was quiet, except for the occasional sounds of our breathing.  Neither of us spoke.  His scent was heavy around me.  My front was to his back, and we were naked, so nothing came between our bodies.  We were skin-to-skin.  We felt warm and snug and soft together.  Except for the part of his body I was holding in my hand - as smooth as his skin felt, it was definitely not soft any more.

I could only use my left hand, since my right arm was tucked up against the mattress and his back.  So, with my left arm reaching over his hips, and my hand fastened around him, I slowly stroked him from head to base, repeatedly, occasionally twisting my wrist and fluttering my fingertips.  When I felt the pre-cum at his tip, I smeared it over him so I could glide up and down him more smoothly.

It was interesting...not being able to see what I was doing.  The absence of visual cues sharpened my other senses.  Any adjustments, slight changes, or additional actions I took were all based on other, more subtle impressions - how he felt against my skin, his body’s reactions to my touch, a slight change in his breathing.  

I started leaving soft, wet kisses in between his shoulder blades, because why not add “taste” into the sensory mix?  

His body tensed for a few seconds and I could hear him take in a quick breath. He suddenly pulled my hand off of him, and in the same motion, he rolled over on top of me, nudging my legs open.  

“I - I...I juss...wanna fuck,” he drowsily blinked down at me.  His voice came out sounding low and gravelly with sleep, and it was so stupid-sexy.

“Yeah,” I whispered as I opened my legs wider.

He didn’t wait - there was no pause, no making sure I was ready.  He positioned himself, and then drove into me hard with no warning.  

I gasped, feeling the burn when he slammed into me, but I readily took him in, meeting his hips with mine on each hard thrust.  I wanted it as much as he did. The brief discomfort soon became the sweetest ache, and quickly spread through me.  My body was thrumming, and a small knot of heat formed in my belly, already pulsing, reaching outward.

“More,” I demanded.

With a look of focused resolve, he took each of my legs and placed them over his shoulders.  He leaned further into me, bending me in half so that my knees were touching my boobs.  We were forehead to forehead.  The new position caused me to tighten around him, to the point that we both groaned at the mind-blowingly exquisite sensations it caused.

He pulled back, and then slowly pushed into me again, grunting at the tightness.  “God, you feel good.”

His thrusting slowed at first, whether from want or necessity or a little of both...I’m not sure, but I really didn’t care.  I felt every inch of him - every single ridge, every detail - slowly sinking into me, stretching me, and then pulling back, so slowly, tortuously, over and over.  My legs tensed and my toes curled and everything felt slick, and smooth, and stretched, and tight.

Because I was literally bent in half, with my legs and hips lifted up off bed, I couldn't really thrust back into him - I had nothing to push off of.  So he was doing all the work.  But I could still clench my muscles around his cock, and he definitely noticed that, judging by the sounds and words spilling from him.

“...fucking tight...so good...again...hnhh...love fucking you...” He groaned loudly on every deep stroke.  

So did I.

After a minute, his slow, deliberate fucks into me became faster and less controlled.  His eyes were closed - not in concentration any more, though, but in complete abandonment.  He let his body take over.  His eyelids fluttered, his nostrils flared, and his mouth was opened very slightly.  His breath was warm and soft over my face.

He opened his eyes and looked down at me.  I silently stared right back.  By then he was fucking me so hard and fast and all of the feelings and sensations were whirling together in a kind of storm cloud.  I couldn't form complete thoughts.  It was like everything I felt was only being partially processed, and it all poured out of me as garbled word-vomit.

“ohmygod...so much...god...so good...unnhhh…you...”

He repeatedly drove into me, each thrust hitting me with such force that my entire body was throbbing.  The ball of fire that had started in my belly had become so great and so intense that I was a little hesitant to let go.  It was almost too much.

I finally did, though.  

I was blissfully warm and weightless for a few seconds.  I could hear nothing, and all I saw was his face as he came, too.  His eyes were squeezed shut and his mouth was opened.  He breathed out small, quiet gasps as he released.

Once we’d both finished, he settled his eyes on my face and smiled a sleepy, satisfied smile, mirroring my own.  He lifted himself off of me and gently brought my legs back down to the bed.  He wrapped me in his arms, and we laid together, still coming down.  Everything felt warm and tingly and loving and safe, and we were soon both drifting off again.

 But, damn, I’d been well and truly fucked.

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

 The next day Ed and I stopped at the grocery store on the way back to my house to pick up a few things for dinner.  I thought we could all make pizzas together - a pizza bar might be fun.  We all like pizza.  And also, it would give us something to do while Ed and the kids got to know each other, and maybe it would help bring any potential awkwardness to a minimum.  And also maybe it was my potential awkwardness I was most concerned about.

I was still nervous-as-hell about them meeting.

 So, after a late-morning brunch in the hotel, we did our shopping, and got to the house a little after 1 pm.  We had a few hours to kill before the kids got home.  We hadn’t really talked about our upcoming trip to LA, yet, so, it was a good time to sit down and plan it out together.

I bought my laptop out so I could access my calendar, and so that we could search for any pertinent information we might need.  We sat together on the sofa to make our plans.

We’d be flying out of Chicago on the following Wednesday.  Ed mentioned that he’d been thinking about not going directly to LA, though, and wondered if I’d like a little mini-vacay, first, before all the insanity of LA and the Grammys.

Hell, yes?!?!?

I thought that sounded pretty fantastic.

“So, where would we go?”

“Well,” he answered, “I thought maybe we could fly into San Diego instead of LA, and then maybe head down to Baja.  There’s a village called Valle de Guadalupe.  It’s very small, and pretty, and has a lot of wineries nearby.  I thought it sounded like a place you’d like.”

He looked at me a somewhat quizzically, as if he didn’t know how I’d react to him having thought this through already.  

“May I?” he asked, reaching for my laptop.

I nodded, and couldn’t help the soft smile forming across my face.

“Baja California...so, Mexico?”

“Yeah…” he glanced up and smiled at me briefly before focusing on the screen, searching for what I assumed to be information about this place he had in mind.

“Here.”

I leaned in to see.  He’d pulled up a page about Valle de Guadalupe which highlighted its numerous wineries, award-winning restaurants, nearby attractions, and quaint accommodations.  I’d never even heard of it before, but it seemed like a place I’d really like.

“This looks awesome.  Have you been there before?”

“No.  My friend visited there last year on holiday with her husband.  She said it’s really nice...quiet and romantic.  I thought it might be good to relax there for a few days before heading to LA.”

I tilted my head as I grinned.  “I love that idea.  Thank-you!”

 We planned for three nights in Valle de Guadalupe, and then we would head up to LA on Saturday, the day before Valentine’s Day.  His parents would be there, along with his cousin and his manager.  We were all to have dinner together that night.  The next day would be Valentine’s Day.  We had nothing scheduled yet in the earlier part of the day, but would have a nice dinner, just the two of us, that evening.  The Grammys were to be the following night - Monday.  Ed did not plan to walk the red carpet, which was completely fine with me.  He’d also not planned on attending any of the after-parties (also fine with me), but instead wanted to be with family - hopefully to celebrate.  We’d fly back to Chicago together Tuesday afternoon.

Holy shit.  I’m going to meet his family.

“Have you told your family about me?”

“Yeah.”  One corner of his lip curved up as he continued.  “They knew I came here at New Years to, um, see a girl, but I hadn’t said anything much at that point about you.  It was all too new to really know yet, right?”

I nodded, understanding.

“But after I got back home I told them about you - all about you - and that I’m crazy about you, and how amazing you are.”  He smiled at me as he said it.

“Do they know...I mean, did you tell them I’m...older?  And everything else?”

“Yeah.  Well, you mean about the kids, right?  And...Jason?”

I nodded.

“Yeah, they know.”

I nodded again.  “OK.”

“Oh, shit - should I not have said anything?”

“No, no, that’s fine.  I just…”

He placed the laptop on the coffee table in front of us and turned his whole body to face mine.

“What is it?”

I shook my head.  “Oh, it's just me being insecure.  It’s nothing, really.”  I tried to play it off as no big deal, but he knew better.

“Tell me.”  His huge, bluest-of-blue eyes were boring into mine, full of concern.

“OK.  I just...sometimes worry that people might think I’m using you...might...question my motives for being with you.”

I too a breath before continuing.

“We've never discussed...money.  But I want you to know that the kids and I - we’re in a good place, financially.  We’re fine.  And I'd never use you.  You know that, right?”

“I know,” he nodded.  “You’ve literally never asked me for one thing.  But thank-you for telling me.”

He paused, looking at me curiously.  “So you worry that people will think you're with me for my money.”

“Well, yeah, kind of.  I don’t mean your fans...I don’t really care about that.  But your friends, your family...the people who love you...I do care what they think.  I guess I...just want them to like me.”

He took my hands and brought them to his lap.  “Hey.  I literally can't think of one reason why anyone wouldn't love you straightaway - you're warm and funny and charming, and genuine, and there's not a greedy or deceitful bone in your body.  And I'd hope they'd take their cues from me - I'm a pretty good judge of character.  But if someone actually does question your motives, though, well fuck them.  I know you.  I know your heart.  I trust you.  I love you.  End of story.”  He shrugged.  “If it makes you feel any better, they are happy that I'm happy, and they really want to meet you.”

He pursed his lips before adding, “Well, Matt won't be there, so you won't meet him, yet.  But that’s probably a good thing, because he's kind of an asshole.”

“Oh,” I frowned, a little overwhelmed by everything he'd said, and unsure if he was kidding about his brother or not.  “Really?”

He shook his head, grinning.  “No, not really.”  He quickly kissed my lips before adding, “But he can be quite direct, sometimes.  That’s off-putting to some people, but it's just how he is.”

We shared another short but sweet kiss.

“It’ll be fine.  They're all very nice, decent people.  I promise.  They'll love you.”

“OK,” I nodded, rolling my eyes at myself and feeling a little foolish.  “Sorry.”

He shook his head.  “Nothin’ to be sorry about.  I reckon it shows you care, is all, and I love that.”

Oh my goodness, I love this guy so much.  he’s so smart, and he really understands me, and he has such a mature outlook about-

“Oh!  Hey - don’t forget to pack all the sex toys I sent you - we’ll be using the fuck out of them!”

 Ladies and gentlemen...the man I love.  LOL.

 Mom brought the kiddos back at exactly 3:00.  Ed waited in the living room, watching alpine skiing on ABC’s Wide World of Sports (of all things!), while I met them at the back door.  All three of them were looking at me extremely expectantly.

“Hey, guys-”

“-Is he here???” Lucy excitedly loud-whispered at me while both my mom and Nathan watched me like a hawk for my answer.

I glanced at the kids, and then my mom, holding in my laughter.

“Is who here?”

My mom just leaned back and crossed her arms at me, shaking her head, grinning.  She was just behind Nate and Lucy, so they couldn’t see her reaction.  Nate looked at me like I had to be the dumbest person on Earth, and Lucy’s face went from devastation to utter annoyance within seconds.

“C’mon, Mom,” grumbled Nate.

“You know...HIM!” Lucy whisper-squeaked.

“Why don’t you come in, guys.  Mom?  You coming in?”

“MOM!”

“Honey, you’d better answer them before there’s mutiny.  And, no.  I’m not staying this time.  I don’t want to overwhelm your friend - meeting these two will be plenty for one day, I think.  We’ll plan for a different time, OK?”

“OK,” I nodded.  “And you two - inside, shoes off, unpack your bags, and dirty laundry in the hamper.  Oh.  And, yes.  Ed’s here.  So come back downstairs when you’re done - we’ll be in the living room.”  

I received two very exasperated looks, but I thought that giving them something to do first might help with nerves (theirs?  mine?).  They ducked past me and headed right up the stairs to their respective rooms, hopefully to do what I’d told them.

Once they were out of sight I let out a breath and gave my mom a wide-eyed “oh shit!” look.

“I think they’ll be fine, honey.  They seem pretty curious about him.”

“Well...in a good way, though?  Did they say anything?”

“Kate, it’s going to be fine.  They like seeing you happy, and you’ve been happy since you met him.  That’s what they told me about him.  Well, that, and Lucy went on and on about his music and hair and tattoos.”  Mom grinned at me.  

“I do think maybe some reassurances should be made that they will always be your number one priority...but you can do that privately, later.  They didn’t say anything about that to me - I just think it’s a good idea.”

“Oh, god, yeah.  That’s...you’re right - that is a really good idea.”

Why the fuck hadn’t I thought of that?  Worst Mom Ever = Me.

“Alright, then.  I have to go now.  You enjoy yourselves tonight.  I hope you’re doing something fun?”

“Yeah.  We’re making our own pizzas.  And then...we’ll eat them.”

Oh, god, that sounds lame.

“That sounds perfect.  Now go back to your friend.  He’s probably getting anxious just sitting by himself.”

My “friend”...

She slipped her gloves back on, and then gave me a huge hug and kiss on the cheek before she turned to leave the house.

“Thanks, Mom.”

“Of course, Katie.  Love you.”

“Love you, too!  Bye!” I called as she walked back to her car.

 I took one calming breath and walked back to the living room, where Ed was still watching skiing.  He had one leg tucked under the other, and was bouncing his heel on the floor restlessly.  So maybe he was a little anxious about meeting them, after all.

He looked up at me curiously.

I sat next to him.  “They’re upstairs putting their overnight bags in order.  They should be down any minute.”

No sooner had I finished the sentence then they both came down the stairs - not in their usual stomping/running manner, but together, walking, kind of slowly.  It was very unlike them.

I lifted my brows in surprise.  “They’re so quiet - I think they’re on their best behavior for you,” I murmured softly to Ed.

He glanced back at me, smirking in a wide-eyed, surprised sort of way.

I grinned back at him just as they turned the corner into the living room.

Ed and I both stood as Nate and Lucy stopped.  We all just stared at each other, everyone unsure of what to do next for a few excruciating seconds.

I finally got a hold of myself and waved them both over to me.  “C’mere, you guys.”  They seemed relieved to know what to do, and came right over - one on each side of me.  I put my arms around each of them, and shifted us all just a little to the right so we were facing Ed.

“So...Ed, these are my children, Nathan and Lucy.”  I hugged them both close to me.  

It was the last thing I expected, but as soon as I held them, I felt each of their hands at my back, supporting me.  Lucy rubbed small circles between my shoulder blades while Nathan held me around my waist, almost protectively.  I think it was their way of telling me that they knew I was nervous, and they knew this was uncharted territory for us, but it was going to be OK.  I don’t think it was anything they’d planned to do.  Maybe it was another example of twins being of the same mind, and I happened to be lucky enough to be a part of it.  But it was a moment where we all connected in a way that I’d rarely felt before.  

I mentally pulled myself together to complete the introduction.  “Lucy, Nate...this is Ed.”

Ed looked at me for maybe a beat longer than he needed to.  I think he knew I was suddenly feeling emotional about something.  But then he looked directly at Lucy first, and then at Nathan.

“Hello.  It’s so good to finally meet both you in person,” he smiled.

Lucy grinned and nodded, shyly answering, “It’s nice to meet you, too.”

Nate looked Ed straight in the eye, nodded twice, smiled, and sincerely replied, “Nice to meet you.”  It was so adult-like.

Umm, when did my 10 year-old son - my youngest (OK, only by 2 minutes but still!) - suddenly become so grown up???

I’m sure I had a slightly surprised expression on my face.  I saw Ed briefly glance at me, so he probably saw it and knew I was at least somewhat taken aback at Nathan’s very heartfelt, yet protective demeanor.

“Well, why don’t we sit down?” I suggested.

Ed sat back down on the sofa where he had been before, and I sat on the loveseat, perpendicular to the sofa.  But we were both on the ends, so were still very near each other.  Nate sat next to me, and Lucy sat on the sofa next to Ed.  She turned herself so she was sideways and facing him, slightly wide-eyed.

Nate glanced at the TV.  “Skiing?” he asked curiously.

Ed shrugged.  “Yeah.  Not much else on.”

Nate nodded, tuning in.  “Do you ski?”  He glanced over at Ed.

“Uh, I have only a couple of times.  Have you ever?”

“Yeah.  My mom and dad took us skiing in New Mexico and Colorado a bunch of times.  My dad was a really good skier.”

Ohhhhhh, god...

“Oh, that’s awesome.  I’ve heard the skiing is really good in Colorado.  I’ve never skied in the US, though.”

“Yeah, I guess.  Lucy is better at it than I am.”

Ed turned to Lucy.  “Yeah?  You like to ski?”

She looked happy to be joining in the conversation.  “Yeah, it’s a lot of fun.  Do you like it?”

“It’s alright, but I’m not very good at it.  I bet you’re a good skier.”

Lucy is actually a natural on skis, but she was being a little bashful.  “I don’t know...I’m OK, I guess…”

Nathan shook his head.  “Lu, you’re like, really good.”  He then turned to Ed.  “She even did a black diamond run in Taos, and my parents almost killed her when she finished.”

I nodded.  “Lucy’s a good skier.  But she shouldn’t have been on that slope.”

“But I was fine!”

“You were 8,” I pointed out.

“You’re a daredevil, then?” Ed asked Lucy.

“Um, I just love how it feels to go so fast - it’s like flying.  It’s awesome.”

Ed gave me a very quick, odd look, and then looked back at Lucy, grinning. “Your mum said almost the exact same thing to me when she was talking about gymnastics.”  Glancing back at me, he softly asked,  “Like mother, like daughter, hmm?”

“You have no idea,” I uttered quietly.

“I just stay on the blues,” Nate added.

“Are those the intermediate runs?” Ed asked.

Nate nodded.

“Ah.  In Europe the intermediate slopes are reds.  But I’ve only been twice, so I kept to the easy slopes.”

Skiing.  We’re talking about skiing?  Of all the random topics… Well, at least we’re talking, I guess…

 Conversation started to flow a little more smoothly from that point on, moving from skiing to Nintendo to drawing to Pokemon, and finally to the Superbowl, which was to be the following day, actually.  Nathan loves football, and was really pumped up about watching the Superbowl - he’s a huge Denver Broncos fan (sorry Bears), and they were favored to win.  Ed, on the other hand, doesn’t get the hype at all, and is irked by the very name (“Why do they call it ‘football’ when they don’t even use their feet?”).  But, to his credit, he seemed genuinely interested in everything Nate was saying.  Football was a love that Nate had shared with Jason, and I know that bond is one of the many things he misses.

Ed mentioned that he had actually seen a few “American” football games (as he calls them), and had just explained that he thinks it is very similar to rugby.  The comparison was lost on the rest of us, though, as we’d never seen a rugby match.

“Hey, Mom?  We should all watch the Superbowl together, like have a Superbowl party.”  Nate was looking very hopefully at me.

“Oh - you mean here?”

He nodded.  Lucy was following our dialogue closely.  Ed just watched me with a small grin, clearly wondering where this would lead.

“Well…”

“Yeah, and you could come, right?” Lucy asked Ed.

“Oh, I’m definitely in,” he answered her.

I glanced at Nate to gauge his reaction to that.  He was nodding his head - a good sign.

“Hmm.  We might be able to do that.  OK...I’ll invite Izzy and Jen, too, if that’s alright with everyone?  It’s last-minute, so they probably already have plans...but I’d like to try…”

I was met with various head-bobs and “yeahs” and “that’s fines”.

“OK.  Well, wait.  What time does it start?”

Nathan answered me.  “Kick-off is at 5:30, but the pre-game show is on before that.”

“OK, so dinner-time, then.  Who’s doing the halftime show, I wonder?”

“Mom!  It’s Coldplay, Beyonce, and Bruno Mars!”  The halftime show is the part of the Superbowl broadcast that Lucy enjoys the most.  Personally, I’m in it for the commercials.

“Really?!” Ed cut in.

Our heads all whipped toward him, then.

His eyes grew wide when he realized we were all looking at him.  

“What is it?” I asked him.

Lucy’s jaw dropped.  “You know them, don’t you?”

He shrugged and grinned modestly as he quietly answered, “Um, yeah...”

Lucy was looking at him as if she just remembered who he is, which may have been the case, actually.  “Wow,” she whispered.

“Alright, I’m going to call Jen and Izzy now.  Be back in a few.”  More head-bobs were directed my way as I walked toward the kitchen to make the call.  I could still see the living room from the archway between the dining room and the kitchen, and I stood there for a minute, just observing the scene.  I saw that Nate scooted over and took my spot on the loveseat, putting him closer to Ed and Lucy on the sofa.  They were all involved in some conversation which I couldn’t make out.  All three of them seemed comfortable and engaged.

So far so good.

 Both Jen and Izzy were scheduled to work until 5 pm the next day, and had planned on a somewhat quiet evening watching the game with their significant others at home.  So instead, they, along with Keith and Adam, would come to our house.  They’d probably miss the first quarter, though, since they both had to stop home after work first.  We decided on doing a potluck dinner.  I’d set up a taco bar (I’m all about the food bars, apparently), Jen and Izzy would bring the side dishes, and their boyfriends would be in charge of dessert.  Ed and I could work out the snacks and beverages.

 I finished my call, and as I was coming back into the living room I heard Nathan ask Ed, “What should we call you?”

“Oh.  I guess just call me ‘Ed’,” he said matter-of-factly.  He nodded once at Nate, then glanced at Lucy, who nodded back at him in reply.

He looked back at Nate.  “What about you?  Do you prefer ‘Nate’ or ‘Nathan’?”

“Umm, either one is fine.  I like ‘em both.”

“I use them both interchangeably,” I added as I entered the room.

“Is ‘Lucy’ a nickname for ‘Lucille’, then?”

“No.  My real name is ‘Lucia’ (a/n:  pronounced Loo-SEE-uh).  But everyone calls me ‘Lucy’.  Or ‘Lu’.  But usually ‘Lucy’.”

“Cool.  And which one of you is older?”

“Me!” Lucy quickly replied.

“Just by two minutes, though...and I’m bigger,” Nate smirked.

“Whatever,” muttered Lucy, rolling her eyes.

“OK - party’s on tomorrow!  Jen and Izzy will be bringing Keith and Adam.  But they’re coming after work, so they’ll miss the beginning of the game.  It’ll be a potluck.  I’m making tacos.  Sound good?”

Everyone was smiling and seemed happy.  And I was, too.

 The pizza bar was a success.  I put out pre-made mini pizza crusts, sauce, pepperoni, Canadian bacon, sausage, mozzarella and asiago cheeses, onions, pineapple, green peppers, mushrooms, and bacon.

We all built our own personal pizzas together, around the kitchen island.  Nathan piled way too much cheese and bacon on his.  Lucy made a smiley face of pepperoni on hers.  Ed was very particular about his Canadian bacon and pineapple placement on the Hawaiian pizza he made.  I just put light sauce, extra cheese, and a smattering of onions and peppers on mine.  

Neither the kids nor I had ever tried Hawaiian pizza before.  I only bought the toppings for it because Ed suggested them when we were at the grocery store earlier that day.  Honestly, I thought that pineapple on pizza sounded pretty disgusting.  The kids were both slightly alarmed by it, too.  Living so close to Chicago, we consider ourselves experts when it comes to pizza.  We know pizza.  We did not know about this pineapple business.

“Is that what pizza is like in England?” Lucy watched Ed’s meticulous placement of the Canadian bacon and pineapple in horrified fascination.

“What?  You don’t have Hawaiian pizza here?”

I answered, “I’m sure you can get it from the chain pizza places like Domino’s or Papa John’s,  but I don’t know anyone who actually has.  I think Chicagoans tend to be pretty traditional about their pizza toppings.”

“Well, you all don’t know what you’re missing, then.  Done!”  He’d finally placed the last topping bit of his ridiculously symmetrical pattern of pineapple and meat on his pizza.  

Since they were personal-sized, they all fit in the oven at once.  I just had to switch what shelves they were on half-way through the baking process so the ones on the bottom wouldn’t scorch.  Within 15 minutes we were sitting down, enjoying our pizzas, along with salad and garlic bread.

Dinner conversation flowed easily, revolving around favorite foods, embarrassing moments, and pets.  Ed is a really great conversationalist - he’s engaging and animated, and draws you in.  The kids were both taken with him.

 “You have no pets.  Why don’t you have any pets?”

He honestly looked slightly scandalized by the idea of anyone not sharing his or her home with some sort of four-legged, furry animal or two.

Lucy answered the question.  “We used to have a dog, Bear.  But he was old and had hip dys...dyspa...what is it, Mom?”

“Hip dysplasia.”

“Yeah, that.  It got really bad and we had to put him down a few years ago.”

“Ohhhh.  I’m so sorry to hear that.”

“He was awesome.  He was a black lab/German shepherd mix - really smart...and funny, too,” Nate recalled.

“I loved that dog,” I smiled.  “He was my first baby.”

“You didn’t want to get another one?”

“Well, not right away.  We planned on getting a new dog last year...but then, well…” I met Ed’s eyes and then shrugged.

“Yeah,” he softly acknowledged.

If it was possible to comfort someone with only a look, then that’s exactly what he did.  We only kept eye contact for a couple of seconds, but I felt it just as I would have if he’d held me in his arms.

I’m pretty sure the kids noticed it, but I think that’s fine - a good thing, actually.

Ed broke the momentarily silence, picking up right where we’d left off.  “I’ve never had a dog.  We always had cats when I was growing up.”

Lucy’s entire demeanor perked up at the mention of cats.  The child has wanted a cat since she’s known what cats are.  Jason was allergic to them, though, so that had never happened.

“You like cats?” she asked.

“I love cats!”

Nathan and I glanced at each other and he rolled his eyes.  I bit my lip to keep from laughing.

“Mom, we should get a cat!”

I turned to Ed with a tight-lipped smile.

“I have to agree with Lucy.  You should get a cat.  Or two, even.”

“Oh, two cats, now?  You’re ganging-up on me, here!”

Nate, meanwhile, looked completely amused at the conversation.

“Do you have any opinions about this, Nate?”

“Me?”  He shrugged, slightly grinning.  “Cats are cool.”

“I see.  A cat -”

“Or two!” Lucy interrupted.

I looked at the three of them, all smiling at me.  “I feel like I’ve been tricked into something here, even though I’ve agreed to nothing!”

“You mean we’re getting a cat?” Nate asked.

“Or two…” Ed very unhelpfully added.

Lucy was smiling from ear-to-ear.

I grinned ruefully, shaking my head, knowing I’d been had, but still unwilling to admit it.

“We’ll see.”

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

 Sunday, February 7, 2016 - evening

 It was halftime, and the Broncos were up 13-7.  Nathan was very well-pleased, as was Adam.  Both Jen and Keith were rooting for the Panthers.  The rest of us were neutral.  

We’d all been gathered in the family room in the basement, stuffing our faces throughout the first half, and thoroughly enjoying all of the potluck dishes.  Izzy brought her mom’s famous (in our circle, at least) Mexican chicken salad, and Jen brought a white cheddar baked corn casserole.  Adam and Keith chose to not stick with the Mexican theme for dessert, and picked up an apple pie, some brownies, and some chocolate chip cookies - all bakery-made.  Ed and I supplied the main course - the tacos, as well as all of the chips and salsa, guacamole, and the beverages.

 Jen and Izzy helped me with clean-up while everyone else gathered around to watch the halftime show.  The guys had all offered to help as well, but we declined.  I think the three of us really just wanted some time to ourselves for some girl-talk.

We caught each other up on our lives as we cleaned and de-cluttered.  We hadn’t had a lot of opportunity to see or talk to each other since the holidays.  

Jen and Keith had begun seeing each other exclusively soon after their very successful first date at the New Year’s Eve party we were all at.  She was really happy.

“What does he do, Jen?” I asked.

“He’s a special ed teacher.  And he coaches track, too.”

“Oh, wow.  Where at?”

“Umm, he’s in the city - Bowen High School - on the south side.”

“Very cool, “ I nodded.

“You know, he is also a ‘younger man’,” Izzy shared.

“Yeah?”  I rolled my eyes at her before shifting my gaze to Jen.

She nodded.  “Yeah.  He’s 29.”

“Oh, well that’s what?  A five year difference?  You guys have nothin’ on us.” I grinned and shook my head.

“How old is he, again, Katie?”

“Umm, he’ll be 25 in like...10 days.”

We were in the kitchen, and I’d been scraping food off of a baking dish, but looked up when the room had suddenly gone quiet.  Jen and Izzy were both looking at me with the funniest expressions on their faces.

“What?”

Izzy’s grin was so huge she was practically leering at me.  “So, how’s that going for you?”

I felt my face reddening, but I also couldn’t stop a somewhat cocky grin from forming, either.

“It’s...good.  Yeah.  I have no complaints.”  I looked down, still smiling, focusing again on scraping the baked-in taco meat from the dish in my hands.

 The game ended a little after 9 pm, and the Broncos won 24-10.  The commercials were fun, as usual, and the halftime show was a phenomenal display of music and color and love.  Personally, I’m not a huge football fan, so I was a little bored with the actual game.  The company was what it was all about, for me.  With the exception of my parents and my brother and his family, I was surrounded by the most important people in my life - the people I love.  And I was really, really happy.

 The kids were in bed by 9:30, but the grown-ups weren’t ready to end the evening, yet.  We still had plenty of snacks to munch on, as well as plenty of beverages to imbibe.  Someone mentioned Cards Against Humanity.  Soon, we were all gathered around the coffee table, fresh drinks at hand and game cards scattered all around us.  We spent the next 90 minutes laughing harder than I can remember having ever laughed before.  

The collective favorite winning card combo of the night, below:

 I bet you can guess whose it was.  :-)

 (A/N - if you’ve never played Cards Against Humanity, YOU MUST GO PLAY IT - while drinking, preferably.  :-)  Hands-down, the hardest I’ve ever laughed IN MY LIFE was while playing this game.  GO PLAY THIS GAME!)

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

“I want you to stayyyy.  But...that would be...not the smart thing...to do.”  I patted his chest emphatically as I spoke.  And also I was impressed with myself for getting all of my words out somewhat correctly and coherently.

We sat together on the sofa in the basement family room, slouching and leaning against each other.  His rested a hand on the inside of my thigh.  I rested mine over his adorable, soft belly.  My other guests had left just a few minutes earlier.  It was after midnight.  We were both quite plastered.

“Mmmmmm...” he kind of softly moan-growled.  “I know!  Why do I have to leave, again?”

“Because we shouldn’t have sex with the kids here!”  I whispered loudly, gently patting his belly this time in emphasis.  

“Oh, yeah…”

We looked at each other, very drunk and wide-eyed and, fell into fits of giggles.

Eventually, we stopped laughing, and he sighed and turned to me.  “I don’t want to sleep alone tonight.  I will, ‘cause I want to do the right thing.  But I might pout a little bit over it.”

“I know.  Me, too.  I just...you understand though, right?  It’s...it’s too soon.  For them.  I don’t...I...there’s no way they are ready to see you here in the morning.  They’re young but they’re not that young and they’d know, and I just can’t ask them to accept that yet.  It doesn’t seem right to me. Oh god, you understand, right?  Fuck.  I’m too drunk to get...words out right…”

I looked over at him, slightly embarrassed, and wondering if he had any idea what I was trying to say.

“You want to give them some time to get used to the idea of you - of us - dating, yeah?”

I nodded.

“Before we parade our love life in their faces?” He was smiling at me as he spoke.

“Yeah, I guess that’s...that’s actually exactly it.”

He tilted his head to the side as he pushed a bit of hair behind my ear.  His expression softened as he looked at me.  “You’re a really, really good mum.”

My first thought was to deflect his kind words, but I didn’t.  He seemed to be putting thought into what he was saying - it wasn’t just a nice, empty compliment, given only to make me feel good about myself.

“You really think so, don’t you?  You’re not just saying that.”

“Well, I’ve spent some time here with you all over the last few days, and I’ve seen how you are with each other.  The way all three of you balance love, respect and...humor...it’s, well, it’s really beautiful.”

I suddenly felt a lot less drunk, and he seemed less drunk, too.  Or maybe he was just still able to be eloquent despite being intoxicated.  I wouldn’t put it past him.  

He’d been paying attention to us - to the kids and to me, and how we interact and connect with each other.  He saw right into our hearts, and his impromptu assessment of us was spot on.

“How do you do that?” My voice came out as a whisper.

“Do what?” he murmured.

“How could you have seen that?  It’s like...you know what’s in my heart.  And theirs, too.”

”Kate, that’s all from you and Nate and Lucy.  That’s what the three of you put out there.  I’m pretty sure anyone who knows you or has seen the three of you together for any decent length of time has seen the same thing.  And...I think I do know your heart.”

I turned in a little bit towards him and hugged him tightly, resting my head in the crook of his neck.  “Thank-you.”

He turned to me and placed many short, sweet kisses on my temple.  It was probably all he could reach due to the way we were leaning into each other.  

“Can you lift up your head, please?”

“Whyyyyy?  This is so nice.”

“Because I’d like to kiss you properly.”

“Oh,” I grinned.  I raised my head up off of his shoulder, turned myself to face him, and wrapped my arms around his neck.

“I suppose,” I whispered just before he leaned in and attached his lips to mine.

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

 Tuesday, February 9, 2016

 Ed and I were to leave on our trip the following day, and we wanted all of us to have a nice dinner together before we left.  The kids finished their homework by 6:00, and we were out the door by 6:20.

I parked on the street a few doors down from the Fat Duck, a restaurant/pub in the next town over.  It’s a favorite of mine - I love the cozy atmosphere, and the food is fantastic.  We asked for a corner table, and were immediately seated.  The wide-screen TV’s placed all around the dining area were tuned into various sports events - mostly college basketball and the pre-game show for the Blackhawks vs the San Jose Sharks.  Since it was a weeknight in February, and still early in the hockey season, it wasn’t very crowded.  But the mood was cheery and welcoming.

We quickly ordered our beverages and some appetizers - the parmesan truffle fries are to die for.  We chatted as we studied the menus.  I learned that Ed is very suspicious of fish & chips outside of the UK - the Fat Duck is known locally for its fish & chips.  He passed on it, so I ordered it, instead.  Oh, well.  His loss. He ordered the pulled pork platter.  Nate got a huge bowl of homemade bacon mac-n-cheese (do you see a theme in his food choices?), and Lucy went with chicken quesadillas.

Lucy briefly glanced up at Ed from her plate at one point and asked, “Are you coming home with Mom after your trip?”  My back stiffened slightly in heightened attention at her seemingly innocent question.  She’s a girl who always chooses her words carefully.

‘...coming home with Mom…’ Not ‘coming here’ or ‘coming back’.  On the surface it appeared to be just a random word choice.  But I suspected it wasn’t.  I briefly glanced at both kids.  Seeing nothing but curiosity on their faces, I shifted my eyes to Ed, curious as to how he’d answer.

“Yeah,” he smiled.  “We’re flying back here together.  I’ll be around for a few days before I go back to London.”

“Cool,” Nate replied as both he and Lucy bobbed their heads in return.  “Are you going to stay at the hotel again?”

“Yep,” he answered without missing a beat, nodding, meeting first Nate’s and then Lucy’s eyes.  Then he stuffed a forkful of pulled pork into his mouth.

 The rest of dinner was completely enjoyable.  Lucy entertained us with a story about her Math teacher.  Apparently, that morning another student had stored his backpack on the floor under his desk, but the shoulder strap was hanging out into the aisle.  Miss Detty didn’t see the strap as she walked down the aisle.  You can probably guess what happened - Miss Detty landed on her bottom on said backpack.  Luckily, she only injured her pride a little bit.  

“It was so hard not to laugh!  But we thought she’d get mad, and we, like, didn’t know if she was hurt?  But then - she was still on the floor - and she said, ‘I’m OK.  You can laugh.’  And we all started laughing, but then she pointed to Joseph - it was his backpack - and she said, ‘but not you!  You can’t laugh!’  It was so funny!”

We all then shared crazy school stories.  Nate told us how his friend Omar took off his shoes and socks in the middle of Science and propped his bare feet up on his desk, crossed at his ankles.  Mrs. DiPisa was not amused, but the rest of the class was.  I told them about the boy in my 8th grade class who jumped out of the classroom window, but then when he tried to come back in the main entrance, he found the door to be locked.  He had to ring the bell and explain to the office why he was outside.  Our teacher somehow never knew he was gone until the principal walked him back to class.  Ed’s story was actually his Great-Uncle’s story - something he had done in school many, many years ago.  Great-Uncle Tom had attended a Catholic primary school in Ireland in the 1940’s.  He was apparently a very naughty child.

“He was in the 4th class, and his teacher was a nun - Sister Scholastica.  What a name, right?   He described her as being tall and old and very mean.  He said they couldn’t see her hair because it was tucked into the...what’s the thing on a nun’s head - the veil?  So the rumor was that she was bald, too.”

Lucy and Nathan were already completely drawn into Ed’s story.  Honestly, so was I.

“So, one afternoon just after lunch, my Great-Uncle Tom was sat at his desk, twisted around, trying to get the attention of his mate who sat a few seats behind him, in the same row.  He whistled very loudly to get his friend to look up.  For some reason, Sr.  Scholastica though it was his mate who whistled.  She came storming down the aisle toward poor Davey, waving her ruler in the air, prepared to smack him across his hands with it.  She was really angry.  My great-uncle swears on the bible that he doesn’t know what possessed him to do it, but he stuck out his foot.  The nun never saw it.  She tripped and fell forward, flat on the floor.

“Ohhhhhhhh…” groaned Nate.  Lucy was quiet, but wide-eyed.

“But that wasn’t the worst of it.  Her chin hit the floor, and then her false teeth shot right out of her mouth and slid the rest of the way down the aisle, stopping right next to poor Davey’s desk!”

“Nooooo!  Are you kidding me?”  Lucy squeaked out.

“It’s a true story, as far as I know.”

“Oh, man.  He must have got in HUGE trouble for that,” Nate mused.

“Yeah.  He got kicked out of school.”

“Whoa.  That’s crazy!”  Lucy glanced over at Nate and he nodded in agreement.

“Yeah,” Ed went on.  “I have a lot of characters in my family.’

“Good to know,” I grinned.

 “When do you leave tomorrow?  What time?”  Nate loudly slurped up the last of his lemonade through his straw as he waited for my answer.

I gave him a little glare of reproof until he finished.  “Umm…” I glanced at Ed, trying to remember.  “We’ll leave for the airport around 11, I think?”  He nodded.  “So I’ll be home when you leave for school in the morning, but your grandparents will be there when you get home.”

“OK.”

“I’ll call you guys when we get in tomorrow, but it will probably be late - close to your bedtime.”

Nate nodded his head while Lucy gave Ed a curious look.

“So, we won’t see you again until after your trip, right?  Like, we won’t see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah, I guess this is it until we get back...that is, if you don’t mind me sticking around for a bit.”

Lucy smiled shyly.  “Sure.”

Ed’s eyes shifted from Lucy’s smiling face to Nathan’s thoughtful one, and he raised his brows questioningly.  

I think it occurred to Nathan at the same time as it did to me that Ed had essentially just asked them if it was OK if he and I continue to see each other.

Nate’s eyes grew fractionally larger, and a second later he nodded his head, grinning.  “I don’t mind.”

I silently let out my breath - I guess I’d been holding it - and discreetly placed my hand over Ed’s knee, giving it a few affectionate squeezes.  He turned to me and smiled.  I smiled right back, and didn’t care who saw.

 “That might have been the most subtle third-degree I’ve ever received.”

We were back at the house, and the kids were getting ready for bed.  Ed and I were downstairs in the family room, sprawled out on the sofa in front of the TV.  I’d just put on the 9:00 news on WGN.

“You mean when they asked if you were coming home with me or staying at the hotel after we get back?”  I rolled my eyes and shook my head.  

“Yeah.  Were they asking me what I think they were asking me?”

“I think so.”

“Wow.  That is some impressive, understated nuance.  You have clever communicators on your hands.”

“Yeah...they feed off of each other, too, so it’s really easy to feel ganged-up on by them - like they did with you.  You handled it perfectly, though.”

He shrugged and then gave me a curious look.  “But why…where did that come from?  Why are they thinking about that?”

“I think some of it is just due to their age - they’re entering Tweendom.  They’re curious and nosey, and with us going away together...they might be wondering about some things, you know?”

“Like our sleeping arrangements?”

“I guess...maybe.”

“Hmmm.  They don’t seem upset, though?”

I shook my head. “Nooo...they like you.  But they’re probably still unsure about some things, too.  Like...I want them to like you, obviously, but I don’t want them to feel guilty about liking you.  Do you know what I mean?”

He nodded.  “Do you feel guilty about liking me?”  He tried playing the question off almost as a joke, smiling shyly as he asked, but I answered him seriously.

“No.  I never have.  Really early on - like right after we met - I thought about that, and realized that there is nothing to feel guilty about.”  I let out a small breath.  “But, they’re 10, so...I don’t know if they feel the same way.”

 “Mom!  I’m going to bed!”  Nathan called down to me from the landing at the top of the stairs.

I looked over at Ed.  “Will you excuse me for a few minutes?”

“Mom!”

He raised his eyebrows and nodded his head.

“I’ll be right there, Nate.  Go on up.”

As I made my way upstairs I heard his feet pounding across the floor as he trotted back to his room.  

I assumed Lucy was just about ready for bed, as well.  I wanted to talk to both of them while I still had a chance.

 Lucy’s was the first room off the stairway, so it was the first room I peeked into.  She was in bed, but with her light on. She was reading a book.

“Hey.”

She looked up and smiled.

“I want to talk to you guys about a few things before you go to sleep.  OK if I call Nate in here?”

She looked curious as she nodded her head. I called out for Nate to come in for a minute.  He soon did and the three of us sat together on Lucy’s bed.  Each of us grabbed a pillow to put in our laps.  They both looked at me expectantly.

“So, I just wanted to make sure you’re both OK with all of this.  With Ed, I mean.”

Lucy tilted her head to the side, seeming to try and pull her thoughts together.  Nate looked directly at me, thoughtfully, as if he was considering his words - which is not usual for him.

“It’s OK to be completely honest.  I won’t get mad, no matter what you feel…and whatever is said stays here - I won’t repeat it to anyone.  Promise.”

Nate nodded thoughtfully.  “He...he’s OK.  Like, he’s chill - like a normal person.”

Like a normal person…I swallowed my grin at that comment, and waited for him to finish his thought.

He shrugged.  “Yeah, it’s fine with me, I think.”

“OK,” I nodded.  “How do you feel about me going away for a week?’

“I don’t mind,” he answered.  “You used to travel a lot for work, so-”

“But this time you’re going to something way better!” Lucy piped in.

“Yeah, I guess going to the Grammys would be more fun than sitting in a library in Salt Lake City transcribing documents, hmm?”

They both were grinning - genuine smiles.

“OK.  But seriously.  You’re doing alright with this?  Lu, what about you?”

“Well, It’s a little weird, I guess?  But he’s really nice.”

“Yeah, it’s kind of weird for me, too.”  I paused to gather my thoughts before continuing.  “You know you’re both the most important people in my life, and I absolutely don’t want to do anything to cause you to hurt.  You guys come first.  OK?”

Lucy glanced at Nathan as she spoke, and he nodded at her words. “OK.  We’re good, Mom.”

“Yeah?  You sure?”

They both nodded.

“OK.  I love you guys.”  I pulled Lucy’s head over to me and kissed the top of it before standing up.  

“It’s getting late.  Let’s go, Nate, into bed with you.”

He got up and headed out the door.  I paused before leaving Lucy’s room.

“Goodnight, pumpkin.  Love you.”

“Goodnight, Mom.  I love you, too.”

“You gonna read for a little bit?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright, but lights out in 15 minutes, got it?”

“Okayyyyy.”  I got an eyeroll with that, but I chose to ignore it.

“ ‘Night, sweetie.”

“ ‘Night, Mom.”

 Nate was already in bed, lights out, when I got there.

“You still awake?” I whispered.

“Yeah.”

“OK.  I’m just saying ‘goodnight’.”

“ ‘Night, Mom.”

“Goodnight, honey.  I love you.”  I ruffled his wavy locks, as I’d done every night of his life since he’s had enough hair to ruffle.

“Love you, too,” he murmured, rolling on his side.

I quietly shut his door and made my way back to the basement.

 “I don’t mean to brag...much...but those kids up there?  Are pretty amazing.”  I knew I was grinning from ear-to-ear, as I approached Ed on the sofa.  I sat next to him, and he pulled me into his side.

“Everything go alright, then?”

“Yeah.  Everything is...awesome.”  I smirked at him.

“You’re just not going to let it go, are you?”

“You just said ‘let it go’...like from Frozen.”  I couldn’t wipe the huge, stupid grin from my face.

“...fuck’s sake!” he laughed, running his hand through the hair at the back of his head.

”You quote children’s movies a lot?”  I may have snort-laughed, then.

“Umm...yeah?  You might not have noticed, because I’ve been on my best game for you, but I’m kind of a huge nerd.”

I grinned stupidly at him for several seconds, just relishing the joy I felt as it washed over me.

“I love you so much, you big nerd.”

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

(Next Chapter)

Asks and Notes are very-much appreciated - your feedback is extremely helpful to me!