#Ten Thousand Whispering and Nobody Listening

[d0ll133]

~ 𝘛𝘰𝘫𝘪 𝘹 𝘚𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘳!𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 ~ 𝘊𝘸: 𝘗𝘦𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯,

𝘋𝘦𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨,𝘍𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘊𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮 𝘱𝘪𝘦?, 𝘗𝘶𝘴𝘴𝘺 𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨,

𝘗𝘶��𝘭𝘪𝘤 𝘴𝘦𝘹?, 𝘚𝘱𝘢𝘯𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 (1𝘹), 𝘛𝘰𝘫𝘪 𝘏𝘪𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧. ~

(𝘓𝘦𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘪𝘧 𝘪 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘺<3)

I looked in the mirror and fixed my mini skirt in the mirror, I made sure my make up was well and twirled infront of the mirror, some of my co workers whistled looking at me. I flashed them a smile and checked my outfit once more, I wore a short plaid skirt reaching my upper thigh and a black lace bra. My hair was loose and in curls. " And now we will present Y/S/N!" **(Y/S/N is your stage name) ** the announcer yelled and a roar errupted of cheers and claps. I was one of the most famous strippers in the busy club which was in the middle of new york and one of the most busy and popular. I strut out in tall black heels, Everyone cheered and I walked over to the pole.

One of the most important things of being a stripper would be to have a bunch of confidence which was something I had. The music started and I flew a leg around the pole starting a series of dances. I did a set of turns and the crowd erupted, I saw a man sitting in the back in a black suit, I bit my lip, fuck he looked hot, He noticed my stare and locked eyes with me looking me up and down. I blushed and I flew down on my knees and made a couple of dances indicating having sex and stuff like that. Two others girls walked in wearing similars outfits to mine but mine was way better.

We went in sync on our own poles and I went down to the finally spreading my legs arching my back showing a perfect view of my black lace panties. The room erupted and I noticed the mysterious man staring intentally. I stood up gracefully when the music finsished and got of stage. " Great job Y/n!" **( Y/N is your name) ** " Thanks" I smiled. I walked out of the back room and looked for anyone who looked in the need of a lap dance or two. I gave a couple of people a lap dance and looked around the room. I walked back to the back room and counted the money I made " Y/n! Someone calls for you in your room!" My boss walked in.

He smiled at me, we fucked a couple of times but never thought twice about it since we didn't want that I check in the mirror to make sure I looked good and walked out of the room, Once in a while you could find somebody who was good at sex and lap dancing but rarely anyone was these days. I walked in and my breath hitched. The same man that was staring at me was sitting in the shadows his face the only thing alluminated. The room was dim with only a bed in the corner, a couple chairs, and a pole in the center. I walked over the pole and he stood up. " You can't touch me" I reminded him smiling. It was a policy her at the club.

Nobody could touch the strippers without consent. The music started and Iswayed my hips infront of him swaying with the music. I did the same move I did on the stage that got everyone's attention. He stopped moving and leaned back spreading his legs. I gasped he was huge and his member was poking through his pants.

I knew that this man wasn't playing around. I realized that he had listen to my only rule, there hadn't been a single person who had followed the rule. I got ontop of himstradling his hips, I started giving him a lap dance. He was hard against my entrance and I felt myself getting wet. He pulled out a hundred dollar bill and stuffed it inside my bra.

I grinded on him harder and He held onto my hips making me stop. " Tell me what is your name?" He whispered hoarsly, his voice was deep. " Y-Y/n" I answered. He stood up and I flew back. He backed me up against the bed towering above me. I should call security and all that but I wanted to see what he would do and he was so big and handsome I wasn't going to pass this opportunity.

He pulled out a pile of money that looked to be about ten thousand dollars. He placed it on a chair nearby. I pulled him into me and kissed him, his mouth was warm and his lips soft. His calloused hands roamed over me pulling at my skirt. I lifted my hips to let him remove them. My heart started beating faster, I was really about to have sex with a guy a just met!? This felt different from all the other times.

He pulled my skirt down and threw his tie across the room. He harshly pulled me closer to him and pulled the last of my clothing off. He laughed deeply, " Look at you, already so fucking wet you slut" I whimpered at his words. He only laughed more and pulled me closer. He threw his shirt off and pants.

He had a bunch of muscles and an 8 pack, the plain of his muscles glowed with tan. He took my heels off throwing my legs over his shoulder, He knelt down infront of me getting a perfect view of my entrance. He spread my legs and pulled my entrance to his face. He laughed again and his breath tickled my entrance and I whimpered louder. He licked a strong stroke up my apex and hummed against me, The vibration of it shook through my whole body.

He continued playing with his tongue and I started whining for him to hurry up pulling at his hair. He grabbed my wrists in one hand and pulled them over my head. " Stop being a fucking inpatient bitch" He spat. I whined and he entered three of his fingered with out warning. I moaned loudly.

" Shut up" He spat pulling his hand out and slapped my ass. I groaned at the pain of the slap and at the emptyness of his fingers missing. He let me go completely and threw his boxers off revealing his proud long member. He leaned over me and grabbed my hands in one hand pulling them over my head and entered all four fingers with the other to my entrance. He pumped his fingers in and out at a quick pace and started rubbing my clit with his thumb in hard circles.

I was a moaning mess and my release was slowly creeping up on me. The tightness revealed itself to my stomach and I moaned " I-I'm going to-" I started. " No you won't" He spat. I cried out and tried harshly not to cum. I was about to release when he pulled out his fingers. I whined loudly and he slapped me harshly. " Be a good slut and keep silence" He growled. He got ontop of me and pressed his tip against my entrance.

I let out a gasp as his mouth went to my breast and he sucked harshly at it, he trailed kisses up to my neck leaving hickeys in his path. I let out slight moans at his lips. I threw my head back in the bliss and he slammed into me. I yelled loudly squirming under him. I tried to get out of his grasp needing some sort of friction since he was staying still, to still.

" P-please" I whined. " Why should I give you what you want" He spat his face hovering over mine. I looked at hima nd he connected our lips. He pulled out and started thrusting in and out of me. " I- yes!" I cried throwing my head back.

He slammed in and out of me without mercy. I felt the urge to cum again and started shaking. " Cum" He ordered. I didn't hesitate to do so and shook under him. " You won't be able to walk for a good three weeks" He growled picking up his pace.

I came about two more times before I started seeing stars and crying. I wanted him to stop but also didn't I loved how this felt. " Fuck your so tight" He groaned slamming into me again. I felt him twitch inside of me and the familiar toil on my stomach. I came all over his dick and he also came inside of me.

He moaned liudly as his warm cum mixed with mine and filled me up. He pulled out and his dick was dripping in our cum combinded. He grabbed me harshly and pulled me ontop of him. He grabbed my waist and lowered me onto his face. I looked down at him and he startedlicking me clean.

I arched my back and saw stars again. He grabbed my waist and started grinding my pussy into his face. I moaned loudly playing with my breasts. He licked faster and proader strokes. My juices dripping down his chin.

He slid me down him after I came and I looked around at the mess we made. He closed his eyes breathing heavily. I slid down him and lowered myself onto his dick. He opened his eyes smirking down at me " You sure love to play for a slut" He spat. I smiled back at him and started riding his dick bouncing up and down letting my breasts bounce with each movemnet.

He started in awe and moved his hands all over me. I rode him faster and he started helping me holding my waist. I was a moaning mess ontop of him and he helped me stay upright. I came once more and pulled out sitting up on the bed. He smirked at me watching me.

I bent down and licked his dick clean showing my ass off. He grabbed my ass and flipped us around. Damn I thought we were done. He pushed himself into my little hole spreading it open crucually. I cried in pain and he started thrusting.

I tighetned around him after a while of him thrusting into me. He groaned and went faster. I felt his dick twitch inside of me and he came into my hole filling me up. He pulled out and stood up. I lay down on the bed on my back. I watched him get dressed and put another thousand dollars with the rest.

I tried getting up and failed miserably. He laughed and grabbed my straps of clothing. He helped me into my clothes but saidhe couldn't find my panties anywhere. I looked once and frowned but shrugged it of, I had another pair and could buy a thousand more with this money. I kissed him once more in a sweet gesture and tried to stand up.

" I-I can't walk" I whispered ashamed. " what did I tell you darling?" He chuckled. " Can you have one of the security workers help me" I asked. " Of course". He grabbed his tie and walked up to me and gave me a scrap of paper with his phone number. " Wait!" I called out. HE turned around to look at me " whats your name?" I asked. " Toji" He smirked and left. I saw him pull out a black lace underwear from his pocket and yelled " Your bastard!" I yelled. One of the security workers walked in and laughed at me. " Fuck you, call Mathew" I ordered.

Mathew was my best friend and a fellow co worker here. He walked in and noticed the messy room and me sitting down. He stared at the case of money and looked at me "Good work?" He said. I looked at him confused. " You can't walk I presume" " Correct my friend" I laughed. He helped me up and to the back room. I would call Toji and who knows what.

[zeldahime]

Highway to Pail Day 17

[Day 1] [Prev] [Next] @do-it-with-style-events

February 17: Acute Angel

Warlock Dowling actually liked maths a lot, as a matter of fact. Everything about his life was weird or unpredictable, but maths had a soothing sameness about it. No matter how many ways you sliced it, whatever method you used, 104 times 986 would always come to 102,544. It would never end up being 17, or a sudden flight to a different continent, or an argument about whether or not Alexander the Great was burning in Hell. It would just be one hundred and two thousand, five hundred and forty-four.

The Earth was round, the sky was blue, and maths was his favorite subject.

He just didn't understand why everyone in his life seemed so upset about it.

His father thought it was some "sissy nerd shit, Harriet" and his mother was worried it meant he might not go into politics and she wouldn't be mother of a president; he'd heard them arguing about it when he was meant to be asleep. His tutors didn't like it either, even though they were supposed to be teaching him: Mr Cortese simply didn't understand maths at all and seemed desperate to escape any conversation where it came up, and Mr Harrison kept giving him harder problem sets and teaching him new things about it, but seemed worried whenever Warlock mastered a new theory, like he thought something bad would happen if Warlock thought too hard about it. Or, given Mr Harrison's gleeful obsession with evil warlords and pits of lava, like he was afraid something good would happen. And, of course, if any of the other kids found out, he'd never hear the end of it; he'd be teased until the end of time (or until they found something else to focus on, which is the same thing when you're ten-nearly-eleven). It was bad enough being named Warlock without inviting teasing for anything else.

Mr Harrison had taught him geometry, and how the Babylonians had divided circles up into 360 degrees like the number of days there were in a year, and how to calculate angles. He said earlier that day that once Warlock got the hang of circles and degrees, he'd get to do trigonometry next. He'd spent the rest of the day thinking of nothing but triangles.

Mr Cortese was trying to explain the lessons of the Founding Fathers to him—probably pretty badly, since he was English and kept backtracking over himself, though Warlock wasn't really listening—as Warlock drew pages and pages of angles in his workbook, trying to fit eight together into a circle made of 45° angles, or 12 30° ones. As he was absorbed in his angles, Mr Cortese's words washing over and past him, he remembered how Mr Harrison sometimes called him "angel" when they thought nobody was listening, and honestly Mr Cortese kind of looked like one, or as much as a grown-up could anyway without wearing a white dress and fake wings, and angel and angle kind of sounded the same....

Before he knew it, a lot of Warlocks angles had wings attached, including some of the ones he'd made into circles; it looked pretty wicked, actually. Maybe if he drew flames around them too, or maybe gave them swords?

Before he could decide, Mr Cortese had slid the notebook away from him.

"Fascinating perspective on the foundations of republicanism in the modern era," Mr Cortese said dryly, and Warlock's cheeks burned. "Your attention please, Mr Dowling? Where did you drift, and we can start again."

Warlock mumbled an "I dunno," and Mr Cortese sighed. "Well, we can hardly start the entire lesson over today," he said, and Warlock slouched down in his chair. "Well, perhaps it would be better to switch places, don't you think? Why don't you try teaching me about your maths? Mr Harrison has tried but between the two of us," Mr Cortese's voice dropped to a whisper as he took a seat, "he's simply not a very good maths teacher, at least not for me. I don't understand a word he says about mathematics."

Warlock perked up, though he quickly buried it. "I won't be a better teacher than Mr Harrison," he protested, but under the encouragement of Mr Cortese's smile, he tried anyway.

Mr Cortese didn't get it after he tried to teach it either. He just wasn't very good at maths, Warlock thought. Which was fair enough: Warlock wasn't very good at history or literature, and that wasn't Mr Cortese's fault.

[beerecordings]

Wolf Bite - Part 23

Chase stares at the black eye of his camera, and his camera stares back.

He didn't know why he was coming into his recording room as he felt his feet bring him this way, and he doesn't know why he's sitting here now. His computers and monitors are all shut down, asleep in the darkness of the room, since he hasn't booted up any of the nice lighting he had arranged around his space. The floor is littered with snack wrappers and a couple shirts, tearing off one to change to another just to record a new video and pretend he hadn't cranked them all out in the same overwhelming day.

It's a familiar space, and the feelings of dread and shame it brings are familiar too. He remembers Stacy so exasperated every time she would find him hiding in here, and he remembers hours of scrolling through dizzying feedback. The sensation of tens of thousands of eyes all watching him doesn't fade, even with everything shut down.

And now the eye of the camera reminds him of Iris, too.

"What the fuck am I doing in here?" he whispers to himself.

But he doesn't leave.

It takes him several minutes to realize he's here because he wants to film a video.

That's not familiar. It's been a long, long time since he had any want to film anything, even back when he was still creating on a daily basis.

He boots up his computer uncertainly. He doesn't think he'll actually do anything, but he can at least push the button, adjust the camera, examine his own reflection. He thinks this one scrape down the side of his cheek will scar, but it looks kind of bad-ass, so he doesn't mind.

The camera hums a little as it wakes up. He stares at the image it's sending.

"Hi, everybody," he says, just practicing. "I know I've been gone a while. I just wanted to film a video to say - because I have - I have an announcement. An update? Because things have changed with me."

A lot of things.

"What the fuck, Chase," he sighs to himself, embarrassed even with no one watching. He turns the camera off quickly and the computer follows. Everything goes quiet again.

"I'm just making a video because I wanted you all to know something about me," he whispers to himself. "A lot of things have changed in my life. The biggest thing recently is that I was... bit. Yeah, that kind of 'bit.' I'm a werewolf."

He can imagine the responses already. They kind of scare him, but... he just wonders if he would have felt better with everything that happened if he knew he wasn't alone in it. If he had some friendly face on the internet telling him that this is going to be okay, and that there are good things to all this, really. But maybe he's just making a martyr of himself. Maybe nobody cares, and talking about it will just make more people horrified of werewolves, and what little enjoyment he had in his career will finally be snuffed out for good.

It's been a year and two months since he uploaded a video, anyway, and the rumors of his wife leaving him and his drinking getting out of hand had all burst up like geysers he was trying to hold down with his bare hands, flooding his reputation. Nobody's listening anymore.

A knock on the door interrupts his brooding and he gets up, finding Marvin at the door. Just the smell of him is a relief.

"Oh, what's that smile for?" asks Marvin, reaching out to tug petulantly at one of Chase's stray hairs. "I haven't even told you the good news yet."

"Happy to see you, I guess," Chase admits. "It's too lonely in that room. What's the good news?"

"Someone who wants to see you," he says. Marvin's arm wraps around Chase's shoulders. "Come on. Let's go see our pack."

.

Henrik expects Chase to come through the door first.

Chase feels safe, in his memory. Chase feels familiar. This whole house feels familiar, but it's no longer just their safe space. It's the place that they were taken from.

Does Chase feel the same way? Is it cruel that he wants to know he's nervous too?

The door clicks and Henrik sits up. But instead of Chase coming through the door, it's Jackie.

Oh.

He smells like an Alpha in a way he didn't before. Powerful. Enticing. Dangerous.

Henrik pushes himself away til his back's against the headboard of the bed. Jackie tilts his head at him, resting easily against the frame of the open door.

"I'm just here to talk," says Jackie. His voice is as loud as ever and Henrik jumps. Jackie grins half-heartedly. "Schneep... I'm not going to hurt you."

Henrik seems to have lost his voice. He swallows and shakes his head, pulling a blanket up over his lap. He can still smell a little of his own blood in the carpet from where JJ had bit him and dragged him back to another Alpha. Then again, he can smell chemicals and soap too: someone has tried to scrub the blood out of the carpet, preparing the room for him to come back.

"Can I come closer to you?" asks Jackie.

"Whatever," manages Henrik, though his voice comes out in a croak. "Sure."

Jackie comes to sit on the side of the bed, still looking at Henrik intently. Henrik can't hold his gaze long. He breaks away, turning to look out the window instead, breath skipping in his chest.

"So this is it, then?" Henrik says. "You just - you're just my Alpha now?"

Jackie pauses. "Do I smell like your Alpha to you?"

"Yes. I think. I don't know. I'm not hers."

"I know."

"I'm not," Henrik repeats. "I'm not hers."

"You're not."

"But I don't know if I want to be yours, either," Henrik whispers.

He waits for Jackie to lunge at him, but he just hums and kicks his feet, nodding at him. "We're kind of in a pickle, in that sense."

Henrik laughs weakly despite himself. "Because... because you saved me. And now you feel like my Alpha to me."

"And you feel like pack to me," Jackie replies.

"Really?" asks Henrik in a whisper.

Jackie nods. "Uh-huh. We're bonded. Schneep... I'd never make you stay, not in a million years. I'd let you go the moment you asked. But I want you to hear me out before you go tearing something inside you in half just because she made you scared to be anybody's pack."

"Because it will hurt to leave," Henrik says. "That's what you're going to tell me."

"The choice to leave is yours completely. I won't say a word about it if you go. It'll hurt, but the pain will be your choice, and I'll wish you the best in finding a pack in Germany."

"What, then?"

Jackie straightens, squaring his shoulders. "Just this," he begins. "I don't want any control over you; I need some deference but never submission. I will never put my teeth in you unless we're playing, I will never use force to get what I want from you, and you are free to go at any time. Henrik, all I want is to look after my pack, and you're part of that. You're free to go. You're always free to go. But if you stay -- "

Now it's Jackie's breath that hitches. Henrik watches as Jackie steadies himself, readjusting on the bed, turning towards him.

Then his hand reaches out gently. Henrik flinches. Jackie just scoots closer, and then -

He sets his hand on Henrik's throat, gently. He doesn't squeeze. He doesn't grip. Henrik is frozen stock-still, trembling for a moment, waiting for the pain and the panic to come - but Jackie just holds still.

Slowly, Henrik relaxes.

He remembers the moment when Jackie touched his neck after moving his stuff out of his apartment. It was like this: something that should have been scary and alarming and unusual, but instead, it just feels like protection. Natural and secure.

"I'm going to squeeze a little," says Jackie.

When Henrik doesn't move, he presses his fingers around his throat. Still gentle. Henrik can breathe. The same way that nudity has stopped feeling sexual, this doesn't feel sexual either. They're in human forms, but they're speaking to each other's wolves, making promises he can feel rather than hear: I'm never going to hurt you. You're safe even with my claws around your throat. Even at your most vulnerable, you're safe with me.

Jackie's hand falls away.

"I'll look after you for the rest of your life if you'll allow me," Jackie says. "That's all I want you to know."

Henrik nods, more firmly than before. He thinks that's true. It feels true. It's unbelievable, that Jackie wants him at all - doesn't he know anything about him? About how neurotic he is, how reclusive, how unreachable? - but at the same time, it's true.

It's only then that Henrik senses the other scent in the room, and he looks up sharply. His nose points him to the doorway, and although there's no one in view, he knows he's there.

"Chase," he says, exasperated and fond at the same time. "Are you spying?"

A blue eye and a mess of brown hair appears beside the door. Chase clears his throat awkwardly. "Didn't want to interrupt."

"Come here," says Jackie. "Dork."

Chase's scent flares with relief and he hurries forward, standing beside the bed. Henrik only has to shift in his direction for Chase to read it as an invitation: he lets out a low rumble like a contented Labrador and throws himself over him, wrapping his arms around him and rubbing their heads firmly together. Henrik laughs, louder than he expects, and wraps his arms around him too. Chase's nose presses closer to his neck and Henrik tenses for a second - but again, no bite comes, and Chase's smell is untainted by either fury or despair, the scents that accompany a bite to the throat.

Henrik decides to test his own waters. He sits up and Chase comes with him, expression open and hopeful. Henrik raises his hand and touches Chase's neck, settling his palm around the front of it, almost cupping his chin.

Chase just closes his eyes and lets him. It feels secure to him too, Henrik realizes. It's not just him and Jackie. They all feel like pack.

Jackie rises from the side of the bed, moving to follow the scent of Marvin in the hallway. "Think about what I said," he tells Henrik softly. "Let me know when you've decided."

"What are you two deciding?" asks Chase, the moment Jackie's gone. "Are you okay? It's so good to see you, you don't know how... how scared I was. Truly. Fuck, I'm glad you're here."

Henrik looks at him, pushing a strand of his hair from his eyes. "We were talking about whether I'll stay or go."

"Don't," says Chase.

From the way his scent twists, Henrik can tell they're both surprised by the loudness of his voice, firm as pumice. There's a moment where Chase looks like he might back down, apologize and change the subject, but he doesn't.

"Don't go," says Chase. "You have to stay, Schneep, you have to. We're pack now. Don't go. Stay here with me. With all of us. I'll look after you too. I know you have healing to do, but so do I. It won't always be easy, but it'll be easier together. We'll all take care of each other. You don't have to be so alone anymore. You don't have to leave. Stay."

And when Chase reaches out to touch him - when his hand settles on his cheek and he looks at him with his face full of freckles and a scent like chocolate and pack - that feels true too.

"Okay," whispers Henrik, in the place where their scents meet and everything smells like home. "Okay. I'll stay."

.

It's not the harness that JJ minds.

Sean is good to him, after all, and if JJ didn't want to wear a harness like a pet, he could shift back to human anytime. Sean would be able to certify that he isn't feral, and he could walk out of the apartment as a man, and no one would try to put this thing on him: a neon orange harness and leash with the words 'UNDER REHABILITATION - DO NOT ENGAGE - UNCERTIFIED LYCAN' repeating across its length.

"Sorry, pal, sorry," whispers Sean, looping it carefully around him. "I can't have you out of the apartment without this on. I know, I know."

Sean soothes at him, but JJ's just sitting still, letting him hook it on. Sean won't use it to humiliate him, and if it feels tight, it's nothing compared to real confinement.

He does mind, however, the reactions from the humans around them.

They always take quiet pathways when they go to the park, but today, Sean takes him somewhere new. As they're forced down a street with people bustling around, the throng parts around them in a disgusted wave of movement. Sean keeps his eyes straight forward, leading JJ close at his side, but Jameson knows he can hear it too: the angry rumbles of the people around them.

"Back up, do not let that thing near you."

"... no reason for him to be in the city..."

"Why do we have parks if they're still going to be out in the open like this?"

One werewolf calls encouragement as he passes, but for the most part, JJ can only hear discontent.

"We're only a few minutes away from Chase's," Sean leans down to tell him.

JJ can't tell if Sean actually believes he can understand him, or if it's just his habit to talk to wolves, feral or not, like they're human, but one way or another, he appreciates it. He doesn't feel human in the middle of all this, that's for damn sure.

A mother stops them, cradling her child away from them, and yells at Sean about how it's inappropriate for him to be out here with a feral animal. JJ sits at his side as Sean listens quietly, something twisting in his stomach. No, he doesn't mind the harness, but this...

Don't they know he didn't ask to be like this?

"Ma'am, I'm a rehabilitator, I'm just moving him from one place to another. I wouldn't bring him out in public if he weren't safe to be around. Look, he's perfectly friendly."

Sean reaches to the side and touches JJ's mouth. He parts his jaws and Sean sets his fingers down between his teeth for a moment, tapping at his canines. JJ looks up at him and the mother with big eyes, tongue swiping once at his rehabilitator's hand.

She just keeps arguing with Sean. When someone else comes to her aid, a man much larger than Sean, they turn away and keep walking. JJ's ears are down flat. Jack reaches out to pat them, giving him a fragile smile.

That's when a rock collides fully with the side of his head. Sean gasps, faltering for a second, and JJ leaps up, whirling to find the person who threw it, but he can't pick them out from the crowd. On instinct, he tries to howl - nothing comes out and he feels stupid, useless, inhuman.

"I'm okay, I'm okay," chokes Sean, pulling him hurriedly away. "Come on, let's get out of here."

They push out of the busy part of the city together, JJ pulling him along now, claws scrabbling against the pavement, so hot it's starting to hurt his paws. They come to a residential neighborhood with nice houses and Sean leans against a tree for a second, catching his breath, putting his hand up to his face.

There's a small brown bruise beside his eye. He gets out an inhaler and takes his medicine, rubbing at his head wearily. It's not a bad injury by any means. For throwing rocks, it could be a lot worse.

JJ doesn't feel any better. Someone did that to him just for walking around with a wolf in an orange harness at his side?

He has always had trouble communicating with everyone else around him. Being talked over, being yelled at, being ignored. Weren't things hard enough before this already? Now he's not even human. Is this how he's going to be treated for the rest of his life? They all think he's a monster, and no one's listening to anyone trying to tell them otherwise.

"Hey, I'm okay, I'm okay," Sean is trying to tell him, kneeling down in the grass beside him to grab his face. JJ pulls away from him, tail between his legs and ears flat. He didn't ask for this, for any of it.

"JJ, calm down."

He'll stay like this forever, he's decided. All he ever gets is rejection. What's the point of shifting back into a human? The only person who ever really listened to him betrayed and imprisoned him. He may as well look like an outsider. Like a monster.

Sean's arms pull at him again, wrapping around him and petting down his side, shushing him. JJ whines out a breath of air and hides his head against his chest, licking his paws. Sean pulls his paw away from himself.

"Don't do that to yourself," he murmurs. "You're grooming your fur out. I'm totally okay, JJ. I'm right here."

He hugs him again, squeezing him close.

Yeah. He'll just stay with Sean for the rest of forever. Who needs to be human anyway?

"Poor thing," whispers Sean, stroking his fur. His face presses into JJ's pelt, and for a moment, he thinks he feels wetness there, dripping onto his side. "It's going to be okay, JJ. It's going to turn out somehow. I don't know how, but it will. It has to."

JJ knows he must smell like despair.

[kithpendragon]

See also: "They think I'm stupid" and "It's all my fault" and "Nobody loves me". These are all very low-level demons that have been doing the same tired bit for tens of thousands of years:

"The Insecurities"

Their names are older than age, and they've had plenty of time to get very good at whispering horrible things to us at just the wrong moments.

Do you know what?

✨You don't have to listen to those assholes!✨

They don't even know anything about it! They're just calling up the lies that they themselves helped to build into our default settings over evolutionary time frames. And they've automated most of the work: they've taught us to justify those lies to ourselves whenever we hear them!

But listen here --

I love you I want you to be safe and healthy and happy!

I don't think you're stupid We all do our situational best, and we all mess it up sometimes. You've got a lot going on right now! (I know because we all do, almost all the time.) Some stuff takes up a lot of bandwidth, and that makes it hard for us to see better solutions in the moment. You can't be expected to fully optimize in the face of all that, and you can't control all the factors even if you knew you wanted to. This Insecurity just wants to distract you even more so that you don't think to learn from what just happened.

You don't deserve to be in pain: NOBODY DOES! (see "I love you") If you're hurting right now, that's because of stuff that happened to you. Maybe a long time ago, maybe just now. Maybe you chose some of that stuff, maybe you didn't. But all of that is less important right now than, "What are you gonna do about it now?" There are so many words to be had on this topic because people are very creative and don't always optimize perfectly (see "I don't think you're stupid"), but the short version is that assigning Blame is only likely to make it hurt more because doing so inevitably makes you more tense and upset. You're better off working out how to help it hurt less: Are you in immediate danger? If so, what do you need to do so you can be safe? What changes can you make to your immediate conditions that could make you more comfortable? What opportunities can you offer the people around you to help you out so you don't have to hurt as much? What behaviors and conditions can you create or adjust going forward that would result in there being less pain in the long run?

WHEN U THINK THE WORDS "IT IS MY FAULT FOR NOT TAKING CARE OF MY BODY GOOD ENOUGH SO I DESERVE TO BE IN PAIN" NOT ONLY IS THAT THE DEVIL TALKING ITS ONE OF THE REALLY GENERIC ONES THATS JUST A SNILING GUY WITH HORNS. ITS LIKE AN EVEN SHITTIER MEHRUNES DAGON

[surfersofbole]

Going to Fall: What Did You Hear?

This is Part Three of this five part series in which I will use Bob Dylan’s A Hard Rain’s a-Gonna Fall as the topic of the poems.

Part One is found here. Part Two is found here.

A Great Fear that Filled the Hearts of Many During Hurricane Irma’s Existence

What did you hear?

Sometimes, I think I’ve heard too much. All the love I’ve heard abroad, I feel I’ve heard too much. Sometimes, pray to God, but never much.

Sometimes, I think I’ve heard too much. Cover my ears to become deaf, I fear I’ve heard too much. Arbiter! Oh, ref! I’ve heard too much.

Sometimes, I think I’ve heard too much; want to leave it all behind. I was warned way too much. Now, wish to be blind ‘cause it’s too much.

Sound of Thunder Roaring a Warning

I heard the news station chatter last week and last night. I heard murderous clatter that caused me great fright.

My woes and my blunders,
 I’d soon realize 
for all the reporters 
disappeared in my eyes.

Roar of a Wave that’d Drown the World

If you could just go outside and listen, you wouldn’t know the tearful fear. You wouldn’t see an eye that’d glisten when they should go and they should near.

We’re not sure of what’s to come, but fills the hearts with dread See the million and some? Out of town, they head.

Hear the engine’s run; see them flood Oak Street. Fires like a gun. Heat feels like a sheet.

To Live and Die in a County that will House Phosphate Mines

One Hundred Drummers whose Hands were all Blazing

The soft parade in our town is the biggest one to date. A gentle sound is comin' down Oak Street to Maine Avenue.

Cross the river narrow near the great big bend. The barrel in the barrow was a cask left unopened, except today, we drank it all, full of merriment. It's winding down. I'm finding out it's something to resent.

Clouded summer. Respite rains waiting in their state for thunder claps to flood the lanes and fires burn anew.

Cross the river narrow near the great big bend. The barrel in the barrow was a cask left unopened, except today, we drank it all, full of merriment. It's winding down. I'm finding out it's something to resent.

Lightning strikes and starts to arc. People sit and wait, try to sleep, but it's not dark. Wish it weren't true.

Ten Thousand Whispering and Nobody Listening

I can see the people organize. The commissioners care not for all their cries. “They need to think of jobs this will create.” There was some truth in that foreman’s eyes, but everybody knew what they had seen;

strangers find a foreign land and flood it with their cash. Then, they find the valuables and toss it in their stash. Anger fills the hearts of everybody left in last. They’ve seen it all before. It has happened in the past.

One Person Starve and Many People Laughing

What of the people that try so hard and fail? What of the lives that are lost to the despair? What of the bread crumbs that have become ever stale? What of the poor souls that look to you and stare?

Coming down, they threw me a bone. Coming down, they pelted a stone. Coming down. Am I one of their own? Coming down... am I all alone in coming down? they are erron- -eous.

What of the people that try so hard and fail? What of the lives that are lost to the despair? What of the bread crumbs that have become ever stale? What of the poor souls that look to you and stare?

Coming down. What did they disown? Coming down. Everything that is grown is coming down.  It is well known. Coming down, sometimes one can’t atone (Coming down) something felon- -ious.

Acrimonious Life, Unceremonious Existence

The Song of a Poet Who Died in the Gutter

A guttural yell in the dead of the night from the seamstress of words who hemmed her own works. She’d hemmed and she’d hawed but found none would applaud. Now, three cackling birds... each carelessly jerks the hair from the head of a poet, long dead. In th’ gutter, she fell in the dead of the night.

The Sound of a Clown who Cried in the Alley

When you think you’ve done well and you start to feel swell that your feelings start to swell, you can’t imagine such hell as what awaits you.

Didn’t you know from the start, the world can’t tear you apart, can’t break your large heart? Now, the feelings you cart, now they offend you.

Hadn’t you noticed the dangers of pulling game changers? You get laughed at by strangers. Then, to be hauled off by rangers... what goes on in you?

Where did all your troops rally? They’re right up the alley. How many? Keep tally. It’s your grand finale, with no one but you.

[onceuponastory]

normal - steve kemp x reader: chapter ten (FINALE): begin again

“Yeah I know I went and left you all alone Please don't think that I let you go I'll never let go.” “Cause I could touch a hundred thousand souls But none of them would ever feel like home And no matter how far and wide I roam You're the only one I'll ever know.” - anyone else by pvris

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Steve Kemp x Female!Reader Chapter Warnings: As always, 18+ ONLY PLEASE. This chapter has mentions of death, murder, stabbing, cannibalism, serial killers, kidnapping, a lot of blood, and graphic descriptions of violence and injuries. Also mentions of reader’s trauma and PTSD after everything she’s been through, and her survivors guilt. And of course, Steve Kemp and Nick Fowler, because those two are warnings all on their own, let alone together. As always, if I miss any triggers, please let me know. Notes: Well, here it is. The final chapter of Normal. I’m going to make a big post about it ending later, but from the bottom of my heart, thank you SO MUCH for reading and loving this story as much as you all have. I appreciate every note and comment so much. This chapter is not beta’d, so any mistakes are my own.

Lying on the floor, Y/N listens as the sirens sound and as the blood continues to flow from her side. She presses her hand to the wound, trying to stop the flow, but it only adds to the pain. Biting her lip, Y/N hisses as she tries to hold back her cries of pain. Lying back, she wonders where Steve is now. Hopefully, he’s safe. Even though now she wishes she went with him. The sound of the sirens gradually grows louder and louder until she realises they’re outside. Sighing, Y/N braces herself. Because once those doors open, everything changes. And this time, she doesn't know how she'll survive it on her own. 

The door soon bursts open, and she hears voices shouting. “FBI, hands in the air!” Y/N lifts her hands, even though doing so sends more pain throughout her body. Rapidly, footsteps approach her.

“I’m FBI Agent Y/N Y/L/N. Please don’t shoot.” She mumbles.

“Y/N! Oh god. What happened to you?” A familiar voice, that of her boss, sounds. “Hey, we need an ambulance over here!” He bends down, studying her bloody and bruised body. “Shit.” He murmurs, taking off his jacket and holding it against her side to stop the bleeding. “Y/N, where’s Kemp? Is he still here?” He asks. Y/N’s eyes fill with tears before she can even stop them. 

“I don’t know.” She sniffles, and her boss sighs.

“It’s okay. You’re safe now. Don’t worry about him. He can’t hurt you anymore.” If only she could tell them the truth about how truly kind Steve was to her, and how he defended her against Nick. Maybe then, things would be different. But nobody would believe her anyway. Once again, her thoughts drift to Steve and the times they spent together. They were so happy, so free. And now, she doesn’t know if she’ll ever see him again.

“Sir, there’s one body over here. It’s Fowler.” A voice sounds, cutting through her thoughts. Immediately, Y/N gasps. 

“Sir, it was Nick. The killings, everything, it was all-” she exclaims, hoping they believe her and that she’s not sent to prison on a murder charge. To her surprise, though, a look of shame crosses her boss’ expression, and he nods.

“Don’t waste your strength. It’s alright. We know.” Y/N breathes a sigh of relief. “Well done, kid. You solved the case after all.” Even though Y/N can feel herself starting to lose consciousness, a small smile crosses her lips.

“I did, didn’t I?” she murmurs.

“We better get you out of here. It looks like you’re about to end up the same way as Nick.” The sound of sirens fills the air again, and her boss breathes a sigh of relief. But Y/N can feel herself starting to slip away.

“I don’t want to die.” She whispers.

“And you won’t. I won’t let you.” Her boss promises. He looks over her body once again, swearing as he sees his jacket becoming increasingly more soaked with blood. “Where the fuck is that ambulance?!” He yells. “Come on Y/N, just stay awake for me, okay? Just hold on, please.” As Y/N’s eyes begin to drift shut, strangely, she feels oddly at peace. The nightmare is finally over. And at least she got to say goodbye to Steve. 

“You saved us both, and all those women. You did it. My beautiful Y/N.” His words echo in her mind as the doors open again, and as paramedics run up to her. And then, Y/N passes out.

Sometime later, Y/N wakes up. As her eyes take time to adjust to the bright lights of her new surroundings, she hears a voice.

“Thank fuck, she’s awake.” For a fleeting moment, in her daze, she hopes it’s Steve, risking his life and freedom to see her and make sure she’s safe. But as she realises that she’s in a hospital, she also realises that it’s not Steve beside her, just her boss. Her heart sinks, and she sighs sadly. She’s still alone. “Welcome back. You gave us all quite a scare.”

“What happened?” She frowns.

“Well, Fowler got you pretty badly in the side, but the doctors and nurses managed to patch you up. They said you’re a trooper. You’re on bedrest for the next few weeks.”

“No, I mean, how did you find me?”

“Well, you were right. Fowler was behind everything. He tried to hide the evidence, but one of his associates squealed and told us Nick went out to find you. He probably wanted to make sure Kemp killed you, and when he didn’t, he wanted to finish the job.” Y/N nods, trying to block out all the memories she has of Nick standing over her with a knife, that crazed look on his face. “There’s going to be an officer outside your door from now on, just in case Kemp comes back.” That means there’s no way for her to warn Steve, so if he comes back, he’ll be putting herself in danger. 

“Hopefully he doesn’t then.” She says, and her boss laughs.

“Well, you got lucky the first time with him, so hopefully your good luck continues.” Y/N suppresses a scoff. Luck? That’s not what she’d call it. “By the way, there are some journalists outside who want to speak to you.” Y/N frowns.

“Journalists? Plural? I thought there’d just be one reporter, if anything.” Her boss chuckles.

“Y/N, you got kidnapped by a serial killer, and stopped another's reign of terror all on your own. You’re in pretty high demand, kid.” Y/N feels her cheeks heating up.

“Oh, right.” How could she be so naive? Of course, after going through what she did, newspapers would be interested in her. She fidgets nervously in her bed, and she bites the skin around her thumb. She’s not used to having so much attention on her. She’s given a few interviews before, but definitely not on this big a scale, or with her as the subject of the story. And she’s definitely not faced it all on her own. 

“If you want, I can send them away.” Her boss offers, obviously noticing her discomfort. Sighing, she shakes her head.

“No, I’m going to have to deal with them eventually, aren’t I? Send them in.”

From that moment on, before she even leaves the hospital, Y/N’s life completely changes almost overnight. There are constant news and magazine interviews, all talking about how brave she was for going up against two cannibalistic serial killers, and not only that, but killing one of them before he could hurt anyone else. They ask her how she feels, knowing that it’s all over, and that she’s a hero. Even though she doesn’t feel much like a hero.

Her co-workers at the FBI even come to visit her too, gushing over and over about how she did such a great job and how they always trusted and believed in her. Honestly, Y/N’s glad she’s still on bedrest and attached to a drip when they come, because when they say those words to her after the hell and constant bullying they put her through, she almost punches them all. The higher ups at the FBI and CIA come to see her too, talking about how what she did will reflect on the agencies as a whole, and how much praise they’ll get for solving the case, completely ignoring how she did it on her own, with her own hard work, and almost died because of it.

Even her parents come to visit her, tears filling their eyes as they tell her how proud they are, and how much they love her. The same parents who, only a few months ago, barely acknowledged her or her job because it didn’t fit into their perfect lifestyle. Of course, deep down she’s glad to have some love from her parents again…it’s just tainted because it took her almost dying and being interviewed by almost every news and tv network around the world for her to be worthy of their pride and love. Then again, they always loved a headline.

And of course, even though everyone tells her it’s over and that they know Nick was responsible, there’s still plenty of police, FBI and CIA interviews. Those are her least favourite kinds of interviews. She didn't know how frightening it was to be on the other side of them. They all ask for her side of the story, the warning signs she saw with Nick, and the million dollar question: if she’s sure that she doesn’t know where Steve went. And in all honesty, she doesn’t. Even though she wants to know more than anything.

When she leaves the hospital, things only continue. For a while, she almost becomes America’s Sweetheart: the superhero who saved the country and its daughters from the darkness that was Nick Fowler. Yet, despite how glad she is that it’s all over, and with receiving so much praise, Y/N just wants it all to stop. She’s tired of having cameras shoved in her face wherever she goes, meaning she can’t live a normal life ever again. She’s not used to this newfound fame, and doesn’t think she ever will be. Not to mention how she’ll be tied to Nick Fowler and this awful thing that he did to her forever. And everyone just seems so…fake. They pretend to care about her physical and mental turmoil, but she knows they’re mostly just there to get clicks and engagement, and they couldn’t care less about what happens to her after this. They’re just chasing the next big story. And for a while, that’s what she’s going to be. This whole situation makes her miss Steve even more. He was the only one who was proud of her. Not because of how well she and her actions would reflect on him. He was actually proud of her. He actually loved her.

And now she’s all on her own, with no idea where he is or if he’s even alive. Her physical scars heal with time, but her emotional scars still stay. And so, the agency also provides her with a therapist to help her readjust to society. Her therapist is nice and all, but she just stares at her most of the time, expecting her to open up about all her trauma right away, when that’s the last thing she wants to do. Not that she can tell her therapist that, though. How else could she phrase that after being given the gift of survival and being hailed as a hero, she doesn’t want it? It makes her sound so ungrateful. 

All Y/N has to keep going is remembering the sweet nothings Steve whispered to her at every waking moment, hoping it’s enough to see her through the night without any nightmares of Nick standing over her with a knife. It never works. The nights are always the worst. When she wakes up, feeling or hearing the whisper of Steve’s voice, or his touch, and knowing it’s not real this time. That she can’t go back to see him and talk to him, and to stop this aching feeling in her chest. That’s what hurts the most. Having him ripped away so quickly from her.

Of course, she tries to find him herself. At least, she searches for him as much as she can before people get suspicious that either she’s not healing as well as she might be, or that her and Steve’s relationship goes far deeper than it seems. After convincing herself that Steve has kept a low enough profile for a while, Y/N even starts checking the news, waiting in case there’s any new bodies that turn up matching Steve’s MO. Because even though the thought still churns her stomach, she knows a cannibal like Steve has to survive somehow. By this point, Y/N’s sure that she knows Steve inside and out (including physically), so she’d be able to spot his work right away. 

When that doesn’t work, Y/N goes back to the cabin a few times, hoping that Steve is hiding out there, waiting for her to find him, or that he’s left her a clue. Naturally, her therapist thinks it’s a great idea, and sees it as a great way to confront what happened. Of course, Y/N didn’t tell her the real reason for her visit. When there’s still no sign of him, and the townspeople don’t know where he is either, it crushes her even more. 

The more time goes on without any word from Steve, not even a discreet note, Y/N starts to wonder if Steve has forgotten her after all. And even after being kidnapped, beaten and almost dying...the possibility that Steve doesn’t love her anymore hurts more than anything Y/N has been through.

“Mom, stop fussing over me, please!” Y/N moans, swatting away her mother’s hands as they try to fix her outfit and hair. 

“I’m sorry, darling. Your father and I just want to make sure you look good for your special night when you accept your award!” She insists. Tonight, Y/N gets an award for stopping Nick and closing the case for good. Y/N sighs. She’s still honoured to be appreciated, especially after all the pain and torment she went through. But she knows this ceremony will be full of press again, ready to plaster her face all over the newspapers and television screens once more. 

Y/N looks at herself in the mirror, staring at the fancy clothes adorning her body. She looks so…different. And she feels so uncomfortable and out of place. Thank fuck they’re not expecting a speech. She’s still too overwhelmed with everything going on with her life, and with trying to find Steve to even think straight. 

“Y/N, they’re ready for you.” Her father announces, and she nods. After her parents leave, Y/N takes a deep breath and walks out towards the stage. She peeks out at the crowd of people and journalists, all there to see her. Yet, even with such an enormous crowd of people there just to see her...Y/N’s never felt so lonely. If Steve was here, he’d be telling her how gorgeous she looks, and be unable to keep his hands off of her the entire time. If he was here, everything would be so much better. She wouldn’t have to go through this all on her own, without the one person who knows what she’s going through. The only person who matters to her. Maybe if she tried harder to find Steve, or went with him, then things would be different. Another shiver goes up her body then at the thought of Steve touching her, and Y/N tries desperately to not start crying.

But if he’s chosen a life without her, then she has to respect that. Even though that thought tears her up inside. Pushing away her thoughts of Steve, Y/N watches as the director of the FBI approaches the microphone.

“Hello ladies and gentlemen. Members of the press. Thank you all for being here as we honour Agent Y/N Y/L/N, who stopped Nick Fowler, the recent serial killer terrorising Portland, all on her own. And after being kidnapped by Steve Kemp too, another monster.” Y/N winces at his words. If only he knew that to her, Steve Kemp is the furthest thing from a monster. “Through her actions and dedicated hard work, Y/N exemplifies our values of strength and bravery. Which is why I’m honoured to call her an agent, and to give her this award. So please help me welcome her onto the stage.” And yet, Y/N stays rooted in her spot, too hesitant to go out in front of such a big crowd on her own.

So much for being a hero.

“Clearly, she’s not used to the spotlight.” The director chuckles, and further laughter ripples through the crowd. Y/N gulps, her uncomfortableness back in full force. Maybe it would be better if she ran.

“You’re a smart woman, and I’d be remiss if I didn’t let you share your thoughts.” Suddenly, Steve’s words echo in her mind again, cutting through her fears. “I’m proud of you.” 

At first, the sound of Steve’s voice makes her feel even more upset, especially since she still hasn’t heard anything from him. But then, Y/N realises that Steve, the one person who actually loves her, would want her to accept this award. So, taking a deep breath, Y/N walks out on stage.

As she does, the room erupts with the sound of cheering and the flashing of cameras. The sudden sound and brightness makes her wince as she approaches the director. He grasps her hand, shaking it tightly. “Well done.” He grins, passing over a small plaque to her. The cameras go off a few more times, and the applause starts again.

And then, thankfully, it’s over.

Later that night, as she makes the rounds greeting people and giving interviews, Y/N keeps glancing down at the award in her arms. It’s so small. She’s been through so much pain and trauma, including almost dying…and all she gets is a fucking tiny wooden plaque. Meanwhile, there’s no doubt her bosses are using this opportunity to improve their own careers, and she’ll soon be forgotten about again. She scans the room, noticing her co-workers looking at her. And she’ll soon be back to being a target for jokes and bullies by the same people praising her. Just another cog in the machine. 

“You know, you need a new job if this is how they treat you.” Steve’s words, some of the first he ever said to her, echo in her mind. Back then, she thought he was just saying them to get under her skin and play on her fear. Deep down, though, she knew he was right. And now, she’s finally going to take his advice. Because she loved her job at first, and will always be grateful to them for indirectly introducing her to Steve. Without him, her whole life wouldn’t have been turned upside down, and she probably would have died back in that church. Now though, she’s had enough, and she can’t do it anymore.

So a few days later, Y/N enters her office once more, and she packs everything up. Once she’s finished, Y/N goes to see her boss. “Why do I have a bad feeling about whatever you’re about to tell me?” He chuckles when he sees her. Y/N takes a deep breath.

“Sir, I’d like to hand in my resignation.” She passes over an envelope, which her boss studies. “I appreciate everything you’ve done, and all the opportunities I had. I just-”

“After what happened, you can’t do it anymore?” He finishes for her, and she nods. “Well Y/N, you’ve done a lot of good in your time here, arguably more so than anyone in this entire agency. But you’ve been through a lot. Including seeing enough blood and gore to last a lifetime.” He sighs, getting up to shake her hand. “I can’t say I won’t miss you…but I understand.” He grasps her hand, shaking it firmly. “And besides, you’re leaving here a hero. Few people can say that.” Y/N nods. 

“Thank you for everything you’ve done, sir.”

“No. Thank you.” He insists. “After all, you did it all on your own, remember?” Y/N feels herself blushing. If only they knew the truth, and how Steve helped her. And how she let him go. She wouldn’t have such a hero's reputation then.  Sometimes she wonders if it would change anything if she admitted how much Steve helped her. She knows it’s foolish to hope that doing so would bring Steve back and drop everything against him, but after dreaming of him for so long and finally getting him…it doesn’t hurt to try again, right? 

But unfortunately, life doesn’t work like that. And if she and Steve are over, then so be it.

“What are you going to do with yourself, then?” He asks.

“I don’t know. I just need some time to myself. Maybe I’ll do some travelling.” 

“Well, I hope life is good for you. Especially after all of this. You deserve it.”

“Thank you.” Y/N replies, blinking back her tears.

“If you want to come back, or you need anything at all, please don’t hesitate.” Y/N nods, and after saying her last goodbyes, she leaves the office. She can see all her co-workers staring at her, whispering amongst themselves once more. She was right after all: it’s not even been a week since her ceremony, and she’s already back to being the joke of the office. But not anymore. Turning away with a scoff, Y/N leaves the office for the last time.

A few days later, Y/N sighs as she looks through her mail. Bills, bills, more requests for interviews….the same as usual. But then, one letter pops out in an unfamiliar handwriting. Frowning, she tears it open and begins to read.

“Dear Y/N. My beautiful, beautiful Y/N. I’m sorry it’s been so long since I got in contact with you. I had to make sure it was safe, but I have missed you so much.” Immediately, Y/N’s eyes widen, her heart rate increases, and her body heats up with excitement. Steve. He’s alive. He’s okay. He’s alive. Trying to calm herself down, Y/N keeps reading, a huge smile on her face. “I’ve just seen you receiving your award on television, and although I’m a little hurt to not be included, I’m so proud that you’re finally receiving the recognition you deserve. I’ve never stopped thinking about you or stopped loving you, and I hope you still feel the same about me.”

“Of course I do.” She whispers without a second thought. 

“I’ve got a house now, and a new life. If you still want to be with me, come and find me.” There’s an address at the bottom of the letter. Involuntarily, Y/N lets out a squeal of excitement. 

He wants to see her again. 

He still loves her. 

She has to go see him. 

Glancing out of the window, Steve sighs. Since he’s still technically a fugitive, he’s had to move away from Portland, away from his real home and from the love of his life, and assume a new identity. He wanted to contact Y/N as soon as he left, but it was too risky, and could put either of them in danger. So, Steve waited. Even though the constant worry over how Y/N is doing is all-consuming. He knows she was at least okay a week ago, because he saw her accepting her award on TV. But after that, anything could’ve happened. The sight of her lying on the ground, blood pouring out of her, still haunts his every waking moment. He could’ve done so much more to help her. And yet…he ran, like a coward. If she’s hurt again, he’d never be able to live with himself.

Suddenly, a knock sounds at the door, and Steve goes to answer it. When he sees who’s standing there, he gasps. “Hi Steve.” Y/N smiles, her eyes filled with tears. 

“Y/N?” He whispers. “You’re here?”

Chuckling, Y/N nods. “I got your letter.” Immediately, she drops her bags and runs forward into his arms, and he squeezes her tightly. He buries his nose in her hair and her clothing, inhaling her scent once more. 

“I’m so glad you’re here…that you’re okay.” He murmurs, pressing a kiss to her lips, one full of passion and longing. Y/N moans happily. Once they’ve pulled apart, Steve still keeps her in his arms for a bit longer. If he could, he’d keep her there, safe in his embrace forever. “I love you so much. Welcome home.” He grins, kissing her forehead tenderly.

Y/N and Steve know that their relationship and lives have been a whirlwind of chaos and unpredictability, but they’re ready for their new life together.

Always and forever.

The End.

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Change

Characters - Iceman x Maverick

Summary - DADT is repealed and our favorite pilots celebrate in the way they’ve wanted to since 1986

Word Count - 2k

Warnings - vague past military homophobia

A/N - I know DADT was repealed on July 22 2011, and made law on September 20th 2011, but for the sake of this story it all happens on the same day. Hence the magic of fanfiction (: this one is based on Change by Taylor Swift and obviously it’s (Taylors Version)

September 20th 2011

That morning was like any other morning for Pete Mitchell. He woke up in Ice’s bed before the man himself, went downstairs to make them coffee, and turned on the tv to listen to the news while he did. 

It was his morning ritual, what he did every day for the last 20 years of loving Ice. Why would today be any different? 

He hears the voice of their president on the TV suddenly and pays a little more attention. It was unusual that the morning news would be swapped for a message from the White House. 

Grabbing the remote, he turns up the tv to hear more clearly what he’s saying. 

“This morning I am proud. To sign a law that will bring an end to don’t ask, don’t tell.”

Maverick could feel his heart in his feet and he’s suddenly glad that the coffee wasn’t ready yet, because it would be currently all over the floor along with a broken mug.

20 years of hiding. 20 years of driving to work separately. 20 years of agonizingly living in separate houses for appearances sake. It was all over. He was free. 

Maverick suddenly remembers that Ice wasn’t next to him to hear this so he ran back up the stairs to tell his lover the good news. 

Bursting through the door he sees him still sleeping soundly despite all of the noise Maverick was making. Figures that 20 years of being with someone meant you get used to their noises. 

Slowly Maverick approaches the bed, tears in his eyes. How does someone tell the love of their life that they can finally be free? Softly shaking his shoulder Pete whispers quietly, 

“Tom? Hun?” 

His traitorous eyes are now leaking the tears he was trying to keep in, he just couldn’t keep it in. Tom stirs slightly before opening his eyes. He’s smiling for a moment before he realizes that Pete is crying and shoots up in bed. 

“Pete, what’s wrong? Is it Bradley?” 

“No love, it’s not Bradley. Everything is okay.” 

He looks confused. 

“If everything is okay why are you crying?”

Ice wipes the tears from mavericks face while Pete sits on the bed so he’s inches away from Tom. 

“Because I have really good news baby. Really good.” 

“What is it? Sweetheart you’re starting to scare me.” 

Mav cups Ice's face and holds his gaze. 

“They repealed DADT. It’s over. We don’t have to hide anymore.” 

“It’s …. Over? H- how do you know?” 

Ice couldn’t believe what he was hearing. It was a Tuesday morning, how did his life change on a random Tuesday morning? 

“President Obama was on the tv talking about it when I turned it on this morning. It’s law, we can be together, like for real.” 

Maverick looked into his eyes, searching for how he was feeling. He was confused, that was for sure, having just woken up, but tears were forming and that signature warm smile was reaching them. One that was strictly reserved for Maverick. 

“Pete, baby. I- I can’t believe it. I love you so fucking much.” 

With that they fell into a kiss, nobody caring who started it. They had kissed millions of times over the last 20 years but this one was different. This one felt like coming home, like freedom. Genuine freedom. 

The whole point of their jobs was keeping the country they lived in free, but they never got to. It was like some cruel joke that while they put their lives on the line, they had to hide away. 

Eventually they go downstairs to listen to the rest of the speech. Since this was a huge deal it was on repeat for most of the morning. 

“No longer will tens of thousands of Americans in uniform be asked to live a lie. Or look over their shoulder in order to serve the country that they love. As Admiral Mike Mullen has said: ‘Our people sacrifice a lot for their country, including their lives. None of them should have to sacrifice their integrity as well.’ That’s why I believe that this is the right thing to do for our military, that’s why I believe it is the right thing to do period.”   

There’s silence after it cuts out. Just like that, their suffering was ended. The tension in the room was palpable, both men feeling extremely emotional. 

“I knew there was a reason I voted for that guy.” 

Leave it to Maverick to break the tension in the room. Ice laughs and let’s his head fall into his hands. He’s crying and laughing at the same time. 

“Yeah, I’d really like to buy him a steak dinner.” 

“Say Ice, should we invite him to our wedding?” 

Ice freezes. Eyes blown wide. He didn’t even think of that. Same sex marriage was legal in California, the only thing that held them back was their jobs. But now… 

“Oh my god Maverick did you just propose?” 

“You bet your ass I did.” 

That cocky son of a bitch.

“What if I wanted a real proposal? You on your knees and everything.” 

“Ice, I get on my knees for you all the time. And given the fact that we’re 50 now it is becoming a bit of a struggle.” 

“You know what I mean you doofus. Ask me to marry you properly or I won’t.” 

Maverick, like always, took that as a challenge. He slid off the couch and got down onto one knee. He takes Ice’s hand in his own and for the second time that morning he tears up. 

“Tom. Ice. My wingman. I have loved you for over two decades now. We’ve been through just about everything from deployments to hospital stays. All the while, we had to sit on the sideline while the love of our life suffered alone. I never want to do that again. So, Thomas Kazansky, Will you marry me?” 

Tom, who rarely cries, is also crying for the second time that morning. 

“Yes. Of course I’ll marry you Pete Mitchell.” 

And again, for the second time that morning, they’re kissing. 

————————

Their morning changes again when it’s time to go to work. Usually Pete leaves first on his motorcycle, then Ice follows in his car minutes later. They work in the same part of the base, so showing up together would be very obvious to the people they work with. Especially since one of them was the Commander of the U.S pacific fleet. 

They both climb into Ice’s car since Ice refuses to get on ‘that death trap’ that is Mav’s motorcycle. The air in the car is different. It feels like the first day of school, excitement for the new possibilities, but petrified for the days to come. 

“So, you’re 100% sure about this?” 

“Maverick. I’ve been sure about this for 20 years. I wouldn’t have agreed to marry you if I wasn’t sure.” 

“I mean, are you sure you’re ready for everyone to know? Just because the law has changed, doesn’t mean that everyone else has.” 

Ice just smiles and puts his hand on his fiance’s cheek. 

“Baby, people are going to have negative reactions to us, we know that. But we also know that what we have is worth more than a few weird looks, and off handed comments. In a more professional sense, we’re no longer at the bottom of the  barrel anymore. I am the boss of pretty much everyone at that base, any foul language about my legal relationship is grounds for punishment and in more serious cases, dishonorable discharge. We’re going to be fine Pete.” 

Maverick accepts his answer with a nod and Ice pulls the car out of the driveway. Base is not a very far drive from Ice’s house, so they make it there in less than 10 minutes. Pete hesitates only a moment before he gets out of the car taking his place beside Ice. 

“It’s just a normal day, Captain Mitchell. Everything is going to be okay.” 

“Is that a direct order sir?”

Ice rolls his eyes.

“Don’t start with me Mitchell.” 

“Hey, you said it’s a normal day. I give you shit on normal days.” 

“Yeah, but you don’t listen to my direct orders on normal days.”

“Touche Admiral.”

Pete was right. Even though Ice outranked him by a lot, Maverick still gave him a hard time. He wasn’t quiet about it either. Most people knew about the legendary rivalry between the two pilots turned apparent ‘friends’ that led to two of the highest graduating scores TOPGUN had ever seen. Ice shakes his head and pinches the bridge of his nose. 

“I can’t believe I agreed to spend the rest of my life with an absolute idiot.” 

“Yup. No taking that back. Soon you’ll be legally bound to that idiot.” 

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Maverick.”

Ice moves his briefcase to his right hand and takes Pete’s hand in his left. Mav gives him a look but lets him hold on, both finding comfort in the contact. 

They walk like that into Ice’s building, still talking. To anyone who wasn’t paying attention, they’d seem like they always do. A few eyes were drawn to their joined hands, but they still stood at attention and gave the Admiral a salue as he walked by. Ice greeted them with a smile and a nod. The smile was out of the ordinary but hey, maybe today wasn’t completely normal and he was excited. 

They reach the doors to Ice's office and Maverick snaps out of his daze and realizes he’s very late for a meeting. There’s people around, now blatantly staring, but they pay them no mind.

“Yikes I’m going to be pretty late, I’ll see you at lunch?”

“Can’t, I’ve got a lunch meeting with Vice Admiral Simpson.” 

“Shame. Well I'll be testing out a new F-22 around 1600 if you want to stop by? I may even give you a spin if you’re lucky.”

“If you think you need to impress me with your flying Maverick, that ship has sailed.”

“Worth a shot. See you then?”

Ice nods and squeezes Mav’s hand before he pecks him on the lips. Maverick goes still, not yet used to pda after spending 20 years of kissing behind closed doors. 

“I love you Pete, have a good day.”

Pete decides that it’s his turn to ruffle some feathers.

“I love you too baby. I’ll see you later.” 

He gives Ice a wink before he turns around and walks the other way. He’s met with stares and dropped jaws, but not a word is muttered. This was the life he had always wanted to live. Able to kiss the love of his life goodbye, not needing to always be looking over his shoulder. 

                        ///

At 1600 Ice does meet Pete at the tarmac, and winks at him from afar as he gets into the cockpit. 

Watching pete fly had always been a treat for Ice. Pete flew like he loved, with wild abandon and watching him in plain sight take off in that jet had become so sacred to him. It made him feel like he was loving Pete out loud and gave him hope that maybe one day he’d get what he had to watch everyone else get for years. 

Today was the day he got everything he’d ever wanted, it was the day things changed. 

When Pete landed, Tom was the first to meet him and was almost giddy about what he was about to do. Something he had been waiting to do since 1986. 

“Everything good there, admiral?” Pete had hopped down from the cockpit and was in the process of taking off his helmet. 

“It will be, get your ass over here.” He had to shout a little to be heard over the roar of the engines on the other side of the tarmac. 

“Ooh is that an order?”

“Mitchell.”

“Okay, okay. Hold your horses.”

When Pete was in grabbing distance Ice did just that, grabbed his fiancé, and kissed him senseless right there on the runway. It was fireworks and sunshine all at the same time. The rush of kissing Pete never did leave, even after all those years. 

There were times over the course of the thirty plus years they’d been together that Ice had thought it could be the end. Challenge after challenge threatened to pull them apart but they stayed steady and fought for their lives. It was never fair, for them or anyone else in their situation, but they still fought on. At one point Pete had told Ice that if he wanted to he could walk away, say he didn’t need this, but that there was something in his eyes that said “we can beat this.”

He’s so glad he didn’t walk away, not that he was tempted, but if he had he wouldn’t have this now. They never gave in to the pressure and came out on top. 

They won. 

[mandoalorian]

Brown Eyes [Din Djarin x Reader]

!! SPOILERS FOR EPISODE 15, SEASON 2. !!

*Hi. The episode has been out for three hours. The devil works hard but I work harder. I hope you enjoy! xx*

Summary: Din has always wanted to confess his love to you— but with his devotion to the Creed and with the risk of losing you, he wonders if the revelation would really be worth it. Would you even consider being with him if he refused to remove his helmet? When Grogu is taken away from Din and in the fiendish hands of Moff Gideon, Din realises there isn't anything he won't do to get his son back.

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: descriptions of anxiety, *SPOILERS FOR Season 2 Episode 15: The Believer of The Mandalorian*

Word count: 2.6k

Permanent taglist - let me know if you want to be added: @supernaturalgirl @phoenixhalliwell @ah-callie @luvzoria @stardust-galaxies @wickedfrsgrl @goth-topic @nerdypinupcrystal @wonderfulfluffer @kiwi-the-first @pedroepascal @castiel-barnes @honeymandos

Masterlist

gif credit: @siennablake

"Din," you froze up, backing away from the Imperial who was sitting at a table drinking caf. "I- I can't do it."

Din's head snapped to face you, masked by the Imperial Shocktrooper helmet he was doting. "Why not?" His voice was firm, but the tone of his question dripped with concern. You bawled your fingers into a fist as you squeezed your eyes tight shut, beginning to anxiously pace around in circles.

"That's Valen Hess," you muttered, trying your hardest to regulate your nervous breathing. "He- I used to serve under him. I- can't… go in there. Din, he'll recognise me." the thoughts in your head were jumbled. Din placed two hands steady on your shoulders.

"I'll go, hand me the dataspike." Din told you calmly. You felt like putty under his touch. Usually, his firm grip would calm you down and ease any of your troubles away— but not this time. You felt completely nauseated.

Grogu was at stake. When you met the Mandalorian, it took him some time to find the confidence in introducing you to the child. You were Ex-Imperial after all. But he warmed up to you, seeing the way you cared so deeply for the children on Sorgan. When he introduced you to the little green bean, who did not yet have a name, you were enamoured. That's when Din knew he was in love with you. Ever since that day, he'd only fallen in love with you more and more. His feelings became stronger with every waking second he spent with you.

Of course, he never acted on his feelings. He wished he had, he wished he could say something. He knew that if something happened to you and you didn't know how he truly felt, he'd regret it for the rest of his life. There had been countless times where you and him brushed paths on the Razor Crest. Plenty of times to say something, plenty of times to mutter the three words that had consumed his mind, body and soul. ‘I love you’. The words were like a broken record in the back of his mind. He looked at you through his visor, seeing your distress and his heart aching and he wanted— no, he had to do something.

His son had been kidnapped and suddenly, Din was an unstoppable force. Nothing could hold him back— not his friends, not the Creed, nothing. The regret ate him up like flies on a corpse. If there was one thing he learned from Grogu's disappearance, is that you never know what is coming around the corner. Din began to treat everyday with you like it was your last because there was no way of telling what the future was holding. And that only stirred him on, the desire of telling you how much you meant to him.

"You can't go," you removed your finger from your lips where you had been anxiously biting your nails. "The security system is biometric facial recognition. There must be another way." you tried to rack your brain for a solution, but Din's mind was already made up.

You took a deep breath and closed your eyes in search for an answer. You steadied your breathing. "Din," you whispered. "What if we distract them? You go in there and speak to him so he's looking the other way and I'll use that moment to sneak past and access the terminal."

No answer. "Din?" you asked, cautiously opening your eyes. He was already gone. Your mouth began to open and close like a goldfish as you watched his approach the terminal. He paused, midway between two tables, shakily saluting Valen Hess. Din turned back to the terminal, held his head up high and carried on over to it.

Upon examining it, Din found it was no different to any other information point— whether it had been New Republic or Independent, Din was lucky enough to already know how to navigate the system. He clicked a few buttons on the keypad, bringing up the facial recognition scanner. He stood still, letting it roam down his face. He didn't have much faith, but it was worth a shot.

Din cursed under his breath as the scanner light lit up red, beeping ecstatically.

"Error. Error. Facial scanning incomplete. Ten seconds until system shutdown." An automated voice informed. Din felt a few gazes burn into his back, no doubt Valen Hess noticing the commotion. "Ten, nine, eight-"

You watched as the timer went down, your hand fingers curling around the blaster in your holster. You didn't know what Din was going to, but you knew if anything— he was a man with a plan.

And that was when he removed his helmet.

It hit you like a ton of bricks, it took the air from your lungs leaving you gasping in silence. You felt like a criminal, looking at him with your own eyes. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn't tear the gaze from the back of his head.

Brown hair. Dark brown hair, slightly messy from the helmet. Although you were some distance away, you noticed the little waves and the way it curled at the nape of his neck. The cut of the Imperial armour revealed just a sliver of his skin. It was golden tan— surprising to you.

"Facial scanning complete." The dataspike ejected from the terminal, a small light lit up in green, validating that the information had been processed and Din was now the owner of Moff Gideon’s co-ordinates. Just as he was about to put his helmet back on, a voice interrupted him.

Your heart sank when you saw that Valen Hess had approached Din.

"Trooper, where are you stationed?"

"Transportation."

"What?"

"My designation is transport— co-pilot."

"No son, what's your TK number?"

Din felt his throat dry up as he looked the man in the eyes. Valen Hess stared at Din right back, looking into the eyes that nobody had gazed into since Din had been sworn to the Creed. Din swallowed the lump in his throat, only for it to return immediately.

"He's with me." you announced, walking over to Din and Hess. A wash of relief shuttled through Din's body upon hearing your voice, but that was completely blown away when he realised you had seen him. It was true, you had seen his face— but there was no time to act up. Din had sacrificed everything for Grogu and you weren't going to let this go wrong. "This is my trooper, sir."

"Who is he and what's his TK number?" Valen Hess repeated, clicking his tongue between his teeth.

"This is my commanding officer TK-0402, and I'm TK-0322. I'm afraid he doesn't speak much. Ever since his vessel lost pressure on Tanaab." You explained with confidence, sighing apologetically and placing a hand on your hip.

Din found the courage to look at you, making brief yet bewildered glances between you and Valen Hess. He had a thousand questions but he knew he could trust you, and so, he smiled wearily, nodding his head in agreement to your little story.

"What's his name?" Hess inquired.

You took a deep breath, and turned to face Din. He looked at you too, his face softening as your eyes met for the very first time. You felt your heart rate slow down as you took in his appearance. You were nervous, and tensions were high, but as you looked into the Mandalorian's sparkling eyes, you felt a familiar sense of belonging. You felt complete.

"Brown eyes." you whispered, feeling the tears pool up as you tried to choke back a sob. Din smiled at you, just a small smile, but enough to make the corners of his eyes crinkle. It gave you the reassurance to know that this was all worth it.

"Well, brown eyes," Valen Hess adjusted his belt. "You troopers were both on the transport that brought in the valium, correct? The only surviving shocktroopers, might I add." he grinned, raising an eyebrow.

"Y-yeah, that was us." You answered hesitantly.

"Please, come join me for drinks. We must celebrate." Hess said, approaching the table he was originally sat at and ushering you over with an exaggerated gesture.

You and Din exchanged a look before walking over to the table and sinking down into the chair. Hess poured out two cups of caf and slid them over. Din stayed silent for most of the conversation, briefly making utterances of affirmation and nodding his head to suggest that he was indeed listening.

Although, he wasn't listening really. His mind was racing and he couldn't concentrate on anything. Although it wasn't necessarily true, he felt like every head in the room was looking at him. Staring at him. Judging him breaking his oath. Was he a failure? Was he a disgrace to the Creed? Dishonourable? A monster?

"I could blather on 'to health' or 'to success', but… tell me TK-0322, where do you come from?"

"Alderaan." you said without hesitation. Din looked at you with furrowed eyebrows, wondering why exactly you had given Hess the details of your real planet.

"Ah, I see…" Hess frowned. "Well, to Alderaan!" he grinned, raising his glass in the air.

"No." you deadpanned and Hess shot you a confused look.

"No?"

"No." you repeated. "Alderaan was a peaceful planet destroyed by the Empire."

"And those on the Death Star, those who aided in the destruction of Alderaan became heroes of the Empire. I was there." he said with pride.

Din watched your face harden as your cheeks burned up with rage. "Heroes?" you croaked out. "For attacking and murdering innocents? Hundreds of thousands of people died on Alderaan. I lost my family."

"Losing the ones we love is simply part of life," Hess revealed with a sigh— and Din felt his heart shatter at his words. He stiffened up, his gaze fixating on the concrete wall as his surroundings began to faze out.

"At what cost?" you whispered. "You know, every day I think about it. I wished there was something I could do to stop it. But no, I was here, fighting for the Empire. While the Empire was out killing my people." You gritted out as tears pricked your eyes. You felt Dins hand manouver under the table and take place on your thigh, as his gloved fingers rubbed comforting circles into the thin material that covered your skin. His hand was large, fitting around your leg perfectly. He held you down, stopping your anxious shaking and you immediately calmed down. Din wasn't going to stop you, but he did want you to not let your feelings intrude on what was really happening right now. Valen Hess, however, looked mortified. You picked up the glass and forced a smile. Din copied your movement and you clinked your glass with his. "To family." you toast, and Din smiles. He smiles so wide a dimple appears in his cheek.

"To family." he confirms, thinking about his son and how close he was to getting him back.

You put the glass of caf back down on the table and quickdrew your blaster, shooting Valen Hess in the chest.

Din knew better than to question you. He took out his own pistol and helped you take down the remaining troopers and Imps in the room before you both raced out of the base.

Of course, you knew that there'd be commotion. You heard the TIE fighter engines as soon as you stepped foot outside. Din grabbed your hand, pulling you along as you both sprinted into the depths of the forest. Once deep enough, you looked up. It was dark, strings of light beaming through the gaps in the trees. But it was enough to illuminate Din. You had envisioned what Din looked like beneath his beskar helmet every single day, and now, you had your answer.

Din took one look at you. He pulled off his leather gloves, dropping them to the ground and placed his hand on your cheek. Subconsciously, you leaned into the warmth of his palm as his fingers tucked the strands of hair behind your ear. You closed your eyes, humming in delight as his bodily warmth transferred to you.

"Din, when we return to the ship you can put your helmet back on. I never saw you." you promised, your voice barely above a whisper and your eyes remaining closed.

"Cyare," Din mumbled, his heart yearning. The pad of his thumb traced your face, following the height of your cheek bones and the arch of your eyebrows and down your nose. "Open your eyes." he requested. Cautiously, you obeyed, your eyes fluttering open as you drunk in his appearance once more.

Brown stubble with a patch of grey graced the lower portion of his face. You reached out, this time your own hand cupping his cheek. Din didn't let go of you, and he let you touch him. Your finger nervously brushed over the coarse hairs and you let out a small giggle as you remembered him telling you from the Fresher room on the Razor Crest that he was going to shave. He had, and now you could see for yourself that it had started growing back.

"Do… do you like what you see?" Din asked nervously, his gaze only temporarily lifting from yours.

You nodded your head. "I do," you admitted. "You're… so handsome."

Din felt his cheeks heat up as you watched the small blush creep upon his face. You were enthralled, seeing him like this. Seeing his humanity— his emotions and expressions. You knew you loved Din, with or without the helmet— but this confirmed everything.

"May I?" Din asked, leaning into you slowly and closing his eyes. The curve of his nose bumped against yours as and the softness of his lips touched you so delicately.

You mumbled a small 'yes' and as your lips parted, Din kissed you. Soft, sweet, but passionate and with heart. You tangled your hands in his hair, tugging at it and encouraging Din to kiss you deeper and further. He done so, willingly, a groan of pleasure escaping his mouth and vibrating through your body.

He pulled away eventually, breathless and his eyes dark and glazed. "I-I…" he was speechless, looking at you with the utmost adoration. "I love you." He sighed in defeat, knowing now was a better time than any to admit his true feelings. He had to do it one day, and it just so happened to be in the depths of a forest as you hid from Imperials.

"I love you too." you exhaled shakily, thrusting forward into his arms and letting him hold you tight to his chest. He pressed a kiss into your hair.

"I love you so much." Din sobbed, his grip around you tightening like he was afraid that if he let go, you'd vanish just like Grogu did. "Please, never leave me. Please."

"I'm not going anywhere Din," you promised. "Now c’mon, let's go get Grogu."

PART TWO

[symphonicmetal101]

Over-Tired OM Boys HCs

Here's the initial thing that got me started thinkin bout the boys, but here ya go-

Lucifer

- this man, once he hits overtired, is extremely gullible, which is why he locks himself in his office until hes done what needs to be done

- also cannot keep a train of thought for more than 20 seconds and it drives him nuts

- and then he loses his focus even more because he's upset

- you tried knocking on the door once, and told him when you closed your eyes, you couldnt see and needed to go to the doctor

- man went from frustrated to concerned in a heartbeat, only after opening the door realizing how foolish he had just come across

- but now the door was open and you had access to him, and reluctantly he let you drag him to bed

- Will deny it ever happened, and if you bring it up, expect a punishment.

- Though he is grateful you made him rest so he would not become the laughingstock of his brothers

Mammon

- over tired bby will ramble until he forgot what he was talking about and space out for a solid ten seconds before snapping back

- it doesnt matter if you're listening intently or only half listening, he makes no sense what so ever.

- If you can record him without him noticing you (which is easy to do in this state) and play it back once he's rested he's either facepalming and blushy for the nonsense he spewed or he managed to pick out what he may have been trying to say and gets super excited, going off on another more understandable tangent.

- Gaming is a priority

Levi

- Sleeping is not

- Levi usually ends up just tired, not wired but dear lord when he does-

- All that energy and passion he pours into the way he speaks about anime and manga?

- Its physical now...oh and hes slightly more extroverted

- Though its a rare sight, over tired Levi works out and rambles about whatever it was that made him stay up that long, and hes doing it all in your room

Satan

- Over tired Satan is a rare sight, though it happens often, as he holes up in his room

- He gets an impulse to clean, and will tidy and clean and organize his books, though it never lasts

- and theres no escape, he will start crying if he feels you arent paying attention or if you're about to leave

- Depending on who you are, he either becomes 10000000% testier, or hes a giggly mess, there is no in between

Asmo

- Finds everything funny, but will get pouty if it came from someone he doesnt really like

- Over tired Asmo is rare, likely the rarest of all the boys to see, save for Barbatos

- but he is a chaotic little fucker

- dear god

- He will raid the fridge and pantry worse than Beel, specifically when hes on a diet-

- Then MC you're either in for one hell of a story from Asmo, most of them his not-so-proud drunk moments that he never talks about for that reason but he cant stop himself-

-his laugh sounds even more high pitched than normal, and a little maniacal, and he finds everything he says hilarious

- you will go on an adventure probably

Beel

- spaces out randomly, and also cries easily, dont point this put to him and say yes to his adventures, he'll change his mind a thousand times on the way- just go with it

- overtired Beel happens quite a bit, usually after the victory of a game and the adrenaline starts to wear off- and then he still has stuff to do

- but instead of "oh" and maybe a small laugh when he realizes what happened its more ".....oh" and then he looks like he's having an existential crisis

- you will have to physically lead him to bed after that, he's too busy thinking and slowly eating whatever is in his hand

- he snacks to keep himself awake, and poor himbo man is even more gullible than usual

- will want to cuddle, but wont ask when hes like this

Belphie

- out like a bulb immediately

- The Avatar of Sloth? Over tired? yes it happens unfortunately-

- He gets even grumpier than usual because he can’t sleep

- Then at night its just restless tossing and turning

- yes even the seemingly flawless butler gets overtired, but opposite of Asmo, he is far better at concealing it

- Usually happens when he intentionally sleeps through important meetings and days for Lucifer back to back to back

- It’s another excuse to hold you though, so he might make himself over tired more often

Barbatos

- You will see him stifle yawns

- And when given instructions, his eyes widen slightly with concentration as he whispers the instructions over and over under his breath so nobody can hear, but its clear his lips are moving

- he cannot be bribed

- he can be intimidated though, and how you ask?

- “threaten” to go tell Beel or Dia because you know full well if they were asked, they would carry Barb back to his quarters if you can’t do so on your own-

- no he will not sleep

- Usually that’s enough to convince him, but you have to stay near to make sure he doesn’t leave until he’s well-rested, otherwise he’ll leave as soon as possible and try to get back to work

- buuuut if you’re “on guard” or in bed with him- well he might have a few extra minutes or hours to spend with you

Diavolo

- overtired Diavolo is rather rare, as Barbatos is very strict with the prince's schedule

- Still though if Diavolo truly wants to keep going...all Barb can do is prepare for the future

- Which uh...just means being able to drag the prince to his quarters

- If you thought he was lively before, being overtired is kinda like giving caffiene to a squirrel for him

- Until he suddenly crashes....which, depending on how you like his company, can be unfortunate as his kick can last for hours

Simeon

- Simeon goes into zombie mode when he's overtired

- He hates to admit it, but it tales every oumce of strength to not fall asleep in the middle of classes

- Not that Luke would let him

- He's a little dazy, a little slow, but even just a power nap gets the angel going again

Luke

- Babie boy, don't stay up with the big kids-

- an overtired ten year old follows a certain progression

- grumpy, denial in need of sleep, chatterbox, chatterbox, chatterbox, chatt- oh he fell asleep in the middle of his sentence

- will not acknowledge anything in the morning, even as he walks out of his bedroom instead of the random place he slept, instead carrying on the conversation he left half finished the night before

Solomon

- hah

- he has spells

- who needs sleep?

- bastard also pushes himself too far, but disguises it with more ease than anyone else, at least until its just the two of you

- He tends to run his hand through his hair more often, fidgets more

- hes a little jumpy too, so continue with caution if you dont want to be turned into a frog-

Anyways, I know its been a hot minute since I posted anything really uh...substantial? I guess this will have to do?? I'm going to be travelling for a bit, so I apologize for slow updates, also dont have the patience to make a queue

Thank y'all for supporting me anyways, it means a lot!! Keep an eye out for the next OC Hunger Games~

Love ya!!

Masterlist

[omiscurls]

hi!! could i request a diluc x fem!reader angst where they were childhood friends, and when reader gets a fiancé, diluc tries to confess his feelings but reader rejects him, gets married and moves from mondstat, and every now and then diluc sends reader letters (apologizing, asking how readers day was, hoping they come back). thanks!

unrequited

plot: reader rejects the character

contains: diluc

warnings: angsty and like one curse word, that’s all

diluc was a cute kid.

as the heir to one of the most wealthy and powerful families in mondstadt, he was polite not only to his senior, but also incredibly nice to his friends, as well. different that most boys his age, he didn’t go around yelling dumb, inappropriate jokes, and didn’t take pride in making girls feel bad.

he was always sweet to those doing worse than him in class, be it theory or sparring, and acted like an absolute saint to his adopted brother.

naturally, how could one not adore a kid like that? how could the mondstadt girls not line up to see him each time, how could the boys not want to play with him? how could anyone resist, when he had that charm to him that seemed to draw people near almost against their free will?

finally, how could you not take pride in the fact that out of all those over-the-top girls who fought over each other to talk to him, out of all those boys that never failed to bug him in each little scrap of his free time, he chose to try and get close to you?

you didn’t understand it at first, but it seemed like he genuinely wanted to know you, his eyes looking as though they were studying your expression at all times, a warm smile welcoming you each time you passed him by.

his words were careful and his sentences always strained, as if he struggled to talk, but a sense of honesty and genuine sympathy always seeped through his words, confusing your little childish brain, but also forming a warm and fuzzy feeling inside your chest. 

over the years, not only did you finally answer to his advances, but also befriend the kid. his rare smiles were reserved for your eyes only, and his mind opened up before you each and every time you talked, no restrain and limitations between you two. 

he’d sit behind you in class, sometimes passing you notes with an answer to questions you didn’t know, or a funny note about the teacher, or just simply asking if you want to hang out after school. 

you’d go to windrise and sit under the tree, talking for hours about the most useless of things, about what you thought the clouds looked like, but also your futures, your dreams and hopes. 

he’d explain math to you before every exam in the dark rooms of dawn winery, hair pulled up and tea made for the both of you, looking at your struggling with unmistakable patience and affection, but what could you know? you were kids, barely even teenagers. why would you think anything of the way he said he’ll “always be there for you” after some simple math tutoring? how could you analyze his kind stare that you never saw him wear for other people? 

and so you didn’t. 

he’d sit with you on the counter of his kitchen, carefully caressing your back as you wet his shirt with tears, quietly telling you that “they didn’t deserve you anyway” after your first ever heartbreak. to hell with the fact that his own heart was breaking a millimetre more with every word he spoke, if what he said calmed you in any way, he’d talk all night, going on and on about how you deserve the world, and nothing less. 

you held his hand at his fathers memorial service, letting him tighten his grip on your fingers harder every time, you wiped away the tears, you listen to his sobs and pleas when the two of you were alone. you offered solace to him over the next painful months, you justified every word he hurt kaeya with, only to make him feel better about himself. 

to him, you were like an angel sent from above. you restored the faith he had lost in the world, you stuck by his side and lighted up his days one after the other, how could he not adore you?

how could he not fall in love? 

and trust when i say, he did really try to avoid it. he tried pushing his thoughts away, he tried focusing on something else, tried avoiding you, tried everything. no matter what he did, his mind circled back to your smile, and unconsciously he smiled as well, even if the next second he’d look in the mirror and wipe it off his face as if it was a crime to smile. 

diluc was a cute kid, and he grew up to be a polite gentleman, whom you called a friend. and as any polite gentleman, he wouldn’t dare do anything to loose the honor you had given him, so he stayed silent. stayed silent since his in-class notes, through talks about the future, through your breakups, through all the times you had been there for him. in no universe would he ever mention how the weight was lifted off his shoulders every time you as much as looked his way, how all the clouds went away at the sound of your laugh, and how he was ready to do anything in the world to keep you happy. 

somewhere in his mind, perhaps he thought you had somehow known all along, and would reward his efforts to not complicate your life with his emotions with loving him back, but how could you know? how, if he kept it a secret that well? 

in the end, his own plan backfired on him, and he realized he had lost when you ran through his door, tears in your eyes, but a smile on your face, showing off a ring, shining in sunlight, resting on your finger.

if he ever thought “they didn’t deserve you” hurt him, “i’m so happy for you!” stabbed his soul a thousand times more painfully. 

to normal people of mondstadt, there was no change in behavior from the gloomy and serious owner of angel’s share, but a few noticed how heavy his presence was, how desperately he blinked back the sheen layer of tears, glistening in the candle light while he was serving drinks, and you were off somewhere in the back, laughing with your lover by your side. 

he had lost his chance, and now there was no way in which he could get you back. no way at all. all his life, he had built up a hope inside that one of these days, he’ll get a happy ever after, and lived with that thought through all the bad moments that came along the way, and now these years of carefully building this scenario came crushing down with the realization. 

in a desperate search of any relief, he came to the conclusion that the only thing to be even remotely at peace with himself was to... simply just tell you. 

so there he was, right outside your door, the watch on his wrist striking ten in the evening, stars shining brightly on your doorstep, as you appeared before him, merely a nightgown shielding you from the cold air of the night, a soft smile adoring your lips from the moment you realized it was him. 

“diluc? what’re you doing here this late?” you said, grabbing a coat from behind the door and closing it behind you. a foolish hope sprung inside him when you joined him outside, as he stared at you with a little grin, working up the courage to speak up. 

“there’s something i wish to tell you about” he merely whispered, gesturing you to come with him.

the walk to windrise was longer than the ones you remembered from your childhood days, and the sharp air nibbled on your skin mercilessly, to the point your legs hurt a bit when you reached the tree.

diluc turned your way and spoke for the first time in what felt like forever, but was thirty minutes.

“i hoped not to burden you with the secret i’ll share with you now, and i’m sorry for whatever bad outcome it might cause, but… truth is, i can’t keep it to myself anymore, and if i want to have some peace for myself, i have to trouble you with it.” he said quietly, settling worry in your gut.

“you can tell me anything” you assured calmly “your secrets are always safe with me”

he took one last look into your caring eyes, feeling a little better just having you smile at him, and took a breath before spilling.

“i might’ve been in love with you for the last ten years” he said calmly “and i know this is hardly the time, i really do, but i just-“

“what?”

you looked at him in surprise, blood audibly pumping through your veins as you tried to comprehend what he just said.

“i do understand that you’re engaged, but-“

“do you? do you, really?” you said bitterly, making his heart sink in regret. “because to me it seems like i waited for you all those years, i hoped, and i prayed, and i wished, and after i finally, finally gave up, you decide to mess with my emotions right when i thought i had them figured out?”

diluc was stunned. so you felt the same way about him, once? he could’ve had all he hoped for? he didn’t even comprehend the rest of your sentence fully, focusing on how you just admitted to having feelings for him somewhen in the past.

“no, i’m not trying to mess with you, I’m-“

“but you are! honestly, diluc, i knew you were somewhat insensitive, but this is blatantly cruel! what- i don’t- why didn’t you say this to me earlier?”

“i wish i did, but to me it seemed like you were always chasing someone else, and i didn’t want to-“

“bother me? is that it? you didn’t want to bother me so now you decided to try and mess with my relationship? god, i- i need to be alone right now. sorry.”

and with that you were out of your usual childhood spot, leaving him alone under the tree that shared both of your secrets and plans for so long.

a longing stare pierced through your back as you ran back to mondstadt, not going home right away, but trying to find a spot where nobody would find you.

“fuck” he muttered. he was familiar with the feeling of loss, but the fact that it was nobody’s fault but his own made it a hundred times worse.

diluc was a cute child, and grew up to be a polite gentleman. so he was there to apologize to you on countless occasions, ready to beg forgiveness for his recklessness and lack of thought, but you were never there to hear his pleas.

and so it went on, a huge wedding covered the streets of mondstadt in white while he stood in the sidelines, his friends said goodbye to you as he watched from a safe distance. you left, and so did every remaining proof of his embarrassment.

nevertheless, he sent countless letters, no address on the envelope, save for the name of the city, hoping that one of them would eventually reach you. sorrow and tears almost spilled from the words written in a tidy cursive, but he never had any certainty about wether they reached you or not.

and while he hoped you forgave him,

he knew you didn’t.

[gisellelx]

Like a Raisin in the Sun

Saint Tropez, France

June 28, 2021

Despite all the trouble it caused them, all of their family liked the sun. Even Jasper, whose ruthlessly military affinity for the dark had taken decades to overcome, lay stretched out on a chaise, his eyes closed, with Alice curled up on his chest. Emmett and Rosalie were curled up on another set of chaises, Rosalie’s head on Emmett’s shoulder, his fingers stroking absently through her hair.

The estate they’d rented had a private beach, of course, and two large pools, and the main house itself was large enough that they couldn’t always hear from one side to the other. Small mercies after the beginning of the pandemic, when the nine of them had somehow managed to cram into their five bedroom cottage in Toulouse. Here at the coast, they all had plenty of room to be apart.

That turned out not to matter much, however. Except for a handful of times of day, when one couple or another would peel off into one of the suites so expansive they were large apartments unto themselves, they were together. Four pairs of chaise lounges feet from the water’s edge. Nine players around the Monopoly board Rosalie and Jasper had designed which was much more punishing and required a buy-in of two thousand euro from anyone who wanted to play to fund the “bank.” Seven in the audience around the Steinway, as Edward and Renesmee worked through the entirety of the four-handed Dolly Suite.

The water made an arrhythmic whoosh as it met sand over and over. Sometimes two waves came almost together, huge and frothy; other times it was the more gentle swish of a small, barely there swell of ocean. It was strange, beautiful, percussion-only symphony, and Edward could almost hear a melody over it, feeling his fingers begin to itch with the desire to compose.

Only one set of chaises sat empty, and as he gazed toward the horizon, he could see them: bright flashes of light between the two-foot swells. They were much farther out than would be safe for humans, having allowed the undertow to take them probably an eighth of a mile out to sea, to a sandbar where the waves crashed prematurely before building up again to come ashore. Between the waves, they stood only waist deep in water, the sun glinting off their shoulders and backs, sending shimmering rainbows across the dark sapphire of the waves.

Carlisle dove through a wave, emerging with hair dripping down his back. He ran a hand through it as he laughed and took a few strokes through the water to be closer to Esme, whose definitely-designed-to-scandalize-the-adult-children string bikini left more of her skin exposed than her husband's long swim trunks did his. Once together, a few steps further out took them both into deeper ocean where they treaded water, having a conversation Edward could not overhear.

So intent was he watching, he barely felt he hand on his shoulder as the chaise beside him became occupied, its regular owner having returned from retrieving a new book from the house. His wife settled in next to him, immediately following his gaze out to the distant sandbar. Together they listened to Esme’s giggling shriek as Carlisle picked her up and threw her full on into a large wave, followed immediately by Carlisle’s deep laughter as Esme recovered her footing and immediately picked him up and did the same. They slapped each other’s shoulders playfully, wiping water out of their eyes and shaking it out of their hair.

“They’re having so much fun out there,” Bella commented quietly.

Edward nodded, saying nothing. After several minutes more, his wife poked him in the side, making him chuckle.

“Sometimes I’d like to have your gift,” his wife said. “Know what you’re thinking.”

He laughed. “That makes two of us.”

It was their private joke, how Bella was his one silent mind. From time to time, she let him in, but it was difficult and she didn’t do it often. So he had scaled the uneasy cliff of learning to ask her to voice her thoughts, and to be more forthcoming about his own.

“I forget so often how young they are,” he answered, his voice quiet. “They should just be at the beach, splashing each other.”

“And then coming in and having mojitos,” Bella added.

Edward stared back out over the water.

“He would be just out of his M-1 year,” he muttered.

Bella laughed. “Carlisle? He’d be a rising M-3 at a minimum. You think he somehow didn’t finish college at least a year early?”

He laughed. “True.”

Bella leaned into him. “And she’d be the rising star architect at the boutique firm. Nobody can believe she has so little experience because her designs are so good.”

Edward slipped an arm over his wife’s bare shoulders. “How did they meet?”

“Mmmm.” Bella’s gaze returned to the ocean. “She designed the art museum and he went to a gala. He’d be looking at the Cezanne. And she would come up from behind him and start telling him about it.”

“Yeah and then he would compliment the architecture of the building and make her blush.”

Bella laughed. “A coincidence, or does he know who she is?”

“He knows who she is. He’s hitting on her.”

They both smiled.

“Does it work?”

Edward nodded. “She lets him buy her a glass of wine from the cash bar. And it’s generic and not very good so he offers to take her to a real wine bar after the event. And they sneak out of it a little early. He orders something way too fancy for his budget and he’s just going to put it on his credit card but—”

“—Esme sees straight through him and gets the check.”

Laughing again, Edward nodded. They both fell silent for a moment, the only sounds the breeze, the birds, and the gentle whoosh of the Mediterranean.

“How long do they wait to do it,” his wife asks mischievously.

Edward threw his hands over his eyes. “Bella!” When he opened them, he saw his wife, one eyebrow cocked, and when they spoke, it was as one:

“Third date.”

They dissolved into laughter.

“His place or hers?” This was Edward.

“His. It’s a mess. He wasn’t expecting to invite her home. His sheets aren’t clean, either.” Carlisle, for his master command of anywhere between two and ten people’s laundry, somehow almost always managed to forget the sheets even with an inhuman memory. Bella’s invocation of one of her father in-law’s few marital imperfections made Edward laugh.

“She doesn’t care,” he added.

Bella shook her head. “She’s kinda charmed, really.”

“They move in together very quickly.”

“But they don’t get married for a long time.”

Edward nodded. “Until he’s in residency.”

His wife smiled. Then she mischievously leaned into his side, putting her lips at his ear and whispered, “They pull the goalie before the wedding.”

This made Edward laugh, but it rang true. In this world of events his mother would be thirty, and worried. They would both want to get started as soon as they were sure of their commitment, and neither of them had ever been much for suffering other people’s opinions about what might be proper. He listened, smiling, as his wife went on.

“They find out the day before and everyone is gushing at the reception about how sappy in love they look. It’s not until she starts showing that they tell everyone why they were so gooey that day.”

Edward smiled shyly, sitting up, dragging his toe in the white sand.

“Boy or girl?”

“Girl,” Bella answered immediately. When he cocked his head and frowned, she smirked and added, “There is no alternate universe in which you are not Rose’s little brother.”

At this, Edward guffawed. But it was true, he knew. When he saw them, in their minds, the shadow-dream family his parents both had, he was always the youngest. Sometimes there were three children, the oldest a boy whom each of them imagined differently—Carlisle imagining caramel hair and brown eyes, and Esme imagining a softened version of Charles, usually, but sometimes a boy with Carlisle’s hair, and blue eyes the exact hue of which she didn’t know and Carlisle didn’t remember. He would have been twenty years younger than Edward, chronologically, yet somehow in all their imaginations he was the oldest—the lost child, the child she ran for, the only person in their family who had ever died.

It weighed so heavily on them. All they had lost, all the things they had won in their stead. They had been so weary a week ago in the morning, when they’d met the rest of the family on the tarmac in Castres. A pandemic year was taking its toll on them both.

The couple who splashed in the waves seemed too young to have experienced all the loss they had. They looked so unburdened, chasing the waves, laughing at each other, catching the sun. As they watched, Esme put Carlisle on her shoulders and he fought until they both fell backward and went under.

Bella squeezed his hand. “Which ones do you think are happier? The imaginary ones or the real ones?”

Edward pressed his lips together. He could see them, in his mind’s eye: the beautiful couple settling comfortably into middle age, the doctor coaching his daughter’s basketball team, the architect leading the pine car derby for her son’s scout troop.

But he could see this couple, too. The joy on their faces as they hugged each of their six children. The way their skin had glowed in the light of absolutely unnecessary birthday candles, a “1”, a “2”, and a “0” on a cake only Renesmee could eat, and in all likelihood wouldn’t. The night before, when they’d watched In the Heights, his daughter fighting sleep as she leaned on her grandfather’s shoulder. How contented Carlisle had looked as he nudged her awake, knowing she considered herself far too old to be carried to bed.

They were old and young. Happy and sad. Yin and yang, like the ancient forces: equal parts the hard amidst the easy, the pain amidst the joy.

“The real ones,” he said, and was rewarded with another squeeze of his hand as his wife smiled.

“I think so, too,” she said.

In the distance, they both watched as Carlisle and Esme disappeared again under the waves.

[raspberry-arev]

After the Flood (a.k.a. bicci fic)

Hello friends! Some of you may remember that back in... er, who knows, I was writing a Bicci Proposal Fanfic. However, school and lack of motivation got in the way, and essentially, I forgot it existed. Until now. It's done, it's ready, it's here for you to read in whole! (I posted half of it before, but I can't find the thing.)

Characters: Jimmy Kaga-Ricci, Lister Bird, Rowan Omondi, OC (Abby Omondi), Angel Rahimi

Themes: older Ark, marriage proposal, coming out, grand gestures, The Ark Revival Tour, and peak Bicci romance (hopefully)

TWs: mentions of recovery from addiction, anxiety, food

Word count: 9k

JIMMY

It’s often impossible to pinpoint what exactly set off an event – or perhaps multiple – that changed your life as you knew it.

That was not Jimmy’s case, however. He remembered that Barbecue Saturday very well.

This time, it was Rowan and his spouse Abby who hosted. The two couples took turns and Jimmy was oh so grateful for it; the idea of managing Lister’s chaotic culinary experiments more than twice in one summer filled him with dread.

On Saturday morning, Jimmy and Lister packed up and drove all the way to the suburbs of London where Rowan and Abby lived. The sun was bright, everything gleamed buttery yellow, and Jimmy managed to talk Abby into letting him set the table and carry in all the food instead of her, which was quite an accomplishment. She was about as stubborn as her husband.

They rarely invited more than three extra people though. Being in the public eye in your formative years made you appreciate small gatherings of trustworthy people. And one of those proved to be Angel. Or, you know, Feresteh, but her nickname really stuck with them. From that time Jimmy nearly quit the band and Lister impaled himself and almost drowned in mud… yeah, call that a wild youth.

Over ten years later, they were hardly the same people.

After they decided to quit being The Ark for their own wellbeing and safety, Rowan kept his place in the music industry as a songwriter, producer and a solo artist. He went with the name Le Monde, a play on his surname as well as French for “the world”. It suited him. He was the world, never small, never just one thing.

Lister stopped being involved in music after a few collabs. While he was figuring out what to do next, he took a few modelling jobs, acted in music videos and got a small part in a sitcom. Jimmy used that time to get a college degree, but found he just wouldn’t be able to get the usual “college experience” he yearned for, and only got his diploma after doing classes long-distance.

Jimmy and Lister also got together. After many failed attempts at courtship and pretending being friends with benefits was enough… they got together. To Jimmy, it felt like it was inevitable; they have acted like partners long before it was official, they just needed to clean up their own messes before they could be a couple. It wouldn’t have felt right back then, but it did now.

Rowan was already at the grill preparing meat and wrapping camembert in shiny aluminium foil when Angel marched in, tall, elegant, beaming. Jimmy loved to see her again. Each time, she seemed a little more confident, more expressive, more… just more. She really did find her calling in the music industry, just as much as he found his tucked away in rural England with his boyfriend.

Yet, he was to be “tucked away” no longer.

At a certain point, their group fell momentarily silent; everyone was chewing their meal and soaking in the sun. Then Angel said, in an unfamiliar, cautious tone: “You see, I was talking to a couple of people…”

Rowan exchanged a quick look with Jimmy. “Go on,” he said.

“It’s gonna be ten years since you guys disbanded, you know.”

“I know,” Jimmy echoed.

“So. I was thinking. Hear me out, even if you think it’s bollocks…” Angel shot them a look, and then made a motion with her hand as if she was presenting them with something. “Have you ever thought of doing a revival concert?”

As Rowan did a theatrical “errrm”, Jimmy saw straight through his best friend’s bullshit: the two of them rehearsed this conversation. He knew Ro for most of his life, who did he think he was fooling?

His mind offered the answer quickly: Abby, perhaps. He wants to see how she would react, doesn’t he? Rowan would love to do a revival show like that, no doubt, but he valued his wife’s opinion too much to make a decision without her.

He felt movement on his left, and looked Lister in the eyes.

“Well,” said Lister, looking at him. “Wow, okay,” said Jimmy. Both were considering.

Angel swiftly picked up, “Just wanted to run this idea by you. Not because it’s me who would love to see you play once more – I mean, of course I would – but it’s expected to have an amazing turn-out.”

“Obviously, they’re The Ark,” Abby commented matter-of-factly.

“You’re right, Abby. So, guys? How are we feeling about this?”

It was bizzare. Normally, Jimmy would have expected to say he wasn’t at all interested – the boyband life was not for him anymore, tough luck – but recently, he felt a strong sense of nostalgia surge through him as the ten year mark got closer. He found himself reaching for his old guitar way more often, strumming at it, looking for something between the strings he could not reach.

Maybe he could do it just once.

What eventually came out of his mouth was… “I haven’t sung like that for a long time though.”

“You sing to me,” Lister contradicted him, his fingers intertwining with his. “All the time.”

Jimmy felt his face get hotter. “That’s hardly… Are you thousands of people?” He turned to Angel. “How many are we talking, anyway?”

She smiled a kind smile. “I don’t know, Jimmy, that depends on whether you three are up to it or not.”

Rowan cleared his throat. “Personally speaking, I think I wouldn’t mind, as long as we are just doing it once, and not trying for a comeback. I wouldn’t go there.”

“Same,” Lister nodded. “I love you guys, but I’m fine the way things are.”

“Right,” said Rowan firmly. “But… just this once, I mean, why not? We could use some extra money.” With this, he gently let his palm rest on Abby’s belly that swelled under her summer dress like a balloon. (Jimmy fought the urge to aww at them.)

Abby immediately assured him they were more than fine financially, but Rowan barely listened, clearly waiting for his former bandmates to say something. Jimmy felt Lister looking at him, unwavering. So he turned to him and asked, “What do you think? Cool or not?”

“I’m waiting for you to say.”

“Why?”

“Don’t want you to feel pressured or anything.”

“You shouldn’t… Just say what your opinion is!”

“You express your opinion,” Lister retorted, pretending to square his shoulders as a threat. Jimmy lovingly nudged him, and to stop being annoying to the remaining three people at the table, he shrugged, “It doesn’t sound so bad. One concert. I mean, we are still friends after all this time, so why not?”

“In that case, I would love to be the centre of attention again!” Lister exclaimed and gave Jimmy a boyish grin. “The crowd was deprived of my looks for too long.”

“Buddy, you were the drummer,” Rowan said. “Bold of you to assume anyone even looked at you with me and Jimmy jumping at the front.”

Jimmy snorted with laughter, but Lister was quick to defend himself. “Google all Lister Bird slash Reader fanfic and then we can talk about who got noticed, buddy.”

“Oi, you’re not even properly revived yet, stop fighting!” Angel called out, but laughter started bubbling from every direction before she even finished the sentence.

They had a proper business meeting about it in two weeks. And then another and another. When they announced the first date, the sales went through the roof. Jimmy had to get off of social media because the internet exploded with their names and faces. But he sort of found it a bit sweet, that so many people stuck around for them, like old friends that he never had the chance to talk to. One concert became three and then five, which was, honestly, more like a small tour at that point. Jimmy fought to call it After the Flood and won.

LISTER

“You really shouldn’t do that, you know. This bitch is hard to get rid of.”

Rowan tried to hide a small cough and put out his cigarette on the metal window sill next to him. “Hey,” he greeted Lister. “Didn’t expect you to come out here.”

“Yeah.” Lister found it hard to hang around smokers, and unfortunately, he met quite the number of them while they were in the process of rehearsing. “I wanted to talk to you.”

“What’s up?”

“Can we walk, like, over there? So… nobody can hear us through the door?”

Rowan eyed him suspiciously, but he followed him to the railing on the edge of the roof. There, he turned to him, seeming to fight himself.

“I’m really looking for a less shitty way to ask this,” he admitted eventually. “But… What have you done now, Lister?”

Lister felt a sort of numbed cramp seize his stomach for a second. It took a lot not to let anger overcome him. They were well over thirty, how the hell was Rowan still treating him like a fuck up? But no. This was more important than old grudges.

“Nothing! As of yet,” he assured his bandmate.

“Okay…?”

“Right. So. Erm. Nobody is here, right? Fine. I had this idea… you know, Jimmy and I have been together for a long time and I obviously care about him a lot, I always have, you kind of know that…”

“Yes, go on,” he pushed on gently.

“Fuck it. I want to fucking propose!”

A giant weight fell off his shoulders when he spoke those words aloud. It was like coming out all over again, god.

Rowan’s eyes twinkled. “Oooh,” he almost whispered, “and you need my help with that? I’m your man, tell me the plan!”

“There is none right now.”

“Oh, okay. I can still help if you want.”

This was another part Lister dreaded discussing.

“I… okay, so, I was thinking of… doing it on stage?”

His friend’s face changed rapidly.

Lister’s dream of a grand proposal to the love of his life in brilliant stage lights and the roars of the audience faded away. “That’s a no? That’s a no. Shit, forget it then.” He felt sick.

“Lister, I’m absolutely positive you mean well,” Rowan started. “But Jimmy would-“

Speak of the devil.

The door opened and out of it peaked Jimmy’s unshaven face. “Oh! There you both are.”

Rowan froze for a second. Lister was ready to improvise. “Alright, so how about I come by yours after practice and you transfer the files to me?” He smiled, but impaled Rowan with a meaningful look.

Fortunately, he caught on. “Oh yeah, yeah, that could work.”

“What files?” Jimmy inquired as he joined them, oblivious.

“Rowan has some of our old drafts still saved. I was thinking of squeezing in a drum solo somewhere, maybe with spoken word over it?”

“Sounds cool,” Jimmy smiled at him and slightly brushed the back of his hand with Lister’s. “Anyway, Dick the Sound Guy wants us all in there immediately.”

“Stop calling him that or I’ll have a Freudian slip at some point,” Lister laughed and guided Jimmy back into the building. Him and Rowan managed to exchange a subtle nod over the shorter man’s head.

JIMMY

As they were packing up that day, Jimmy tried incredibly hard to catch Rowan alone. Just like the old times when he needed to discuss something personal. And yet again, it involved Lister. Jimmy felt young and stupid again, but not really in a good way.

Finally, he managed to stop him while he was putting away the equipment. Lister was meanwhile in the office of their temporary new manager. “Ro, I need advice!” he whispered to his best friend.

“What about?”

“It’s Lister.”

“Oh dear Jesus, I’m having flashbacks.”

“Don’t be a dick, it’s important.”

“Okay then, tell me.”

“It kind of involves you too. Just… tell me if it’s a good idea.”

“Go on!”

“I want to, uh… I want to tell people Lister and I are a couple…” He took a breath. “Which means I would be coming out as gay as well, probably. I know that’s, like, a huge pile of drama, so if you don’t want me to complicate the tour, just say it, it’s honestly kind of irresponsible when I’m thinking about it now…”

“Jimbob. Easy.” Rowan waited for a second for Jimmy to wind down, leaning on a stack of five chairs, and then asked, “Are you really sure about it? Do you want people to know?”

Jimmy felt his thoughts humming in his head. He forced himself to say exactly how he felt.

“I know it’s gonna sound super dramatic, but I don’t want to die not saying it,” he explained slowly. “It became really important to me… I don’t know when. But it did. Talking about this part of me, too. I’m just worried about what Lister might say.”

“So I take it that you didn’t discuss this?”

“No way. I don’t even know how to start!” Jimmy exploded in loud whispering. “I should have talked to him a long time ago, but I just didn’t have the balls.”

“I get that, but… just bring it up. Like, theoretically. What if. I think he’s going to support you through it.”

“How could he?”

“What are you even saying at this point?

“You think he would like people sticking their nose in our personal business? I feel like it’s so unfair to him and his privacy… And I feel terrible about still wanting to do it… even though it’s inconsiderate. It’s all a fucking mess.”

“Okay, okay.” Rowan massaged his nose. He looked like he was trying incredibly hard not to snap at Jimmy and be at least somewhat encouraging. “Look, no spoilers, but I am going to say this. Lister absolutely will notbe mad and he will want to talk about the two of you if you give him the chance. That is all.”

“Wait, what? Ro, did he tell you something?”

“I am not talking!”

“Is that how you treat your best friend in a life crisis?!”

“You’re putting me in a life crisis, don’t you dare play the pity card! I swear, the two of you are a nightmare.”

“Rowan! Come back!”

LISTER

His visit to Rowan’s place was very brief, but it was enough for him to understand Rowan’s concerns. Eventually.

Lister explained that it didn’t feel appropriate for him to just whip out a ring in a restaurant: Jimmy was his love, his dream boy, as cliché as it sounded, and he wanted to do something that would measure up to all he was feeling. Which was… well, a whole lot. Like a “get down on one knee in front of thousands of people” lot.

And yet.

“It’s all great, and I’m sure there are people in the world that would love it, but we are talking about Jimmy.”

“Come on. I know, he’s private about… well, everything, but…”

“That, yes,” Rowan pointed at him while holding a can of coke, “but don’t you think this proposal on stage would be an anxiety-inducing situation? Because to me, that sounds like a lot of pressure and nerves.”

“He hasn’t had attacks since we moved and he went on those meds.”

“That doesn’t really –“

“Matter. Yeah. Yeah, I get your point, mate, he would die of shock. And everybody watching him. Fuck, I’m stupid.”

“No, you’re not,” Rowan grinned. “The two of you are just different… in some aspects. I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”

Will I? Lister asked himself as he was driving back to the hotel that Jimmy and him were staying at for the time being. This was the only thing I came up with, like, ever.

When he swept his key card over the sensor and the door to their suite opened, he was greeted by the smell of dinner. He took a look into their little kitchen and found his boyfriend sitting at the table with his laptop. He didn’t notice him for a second, so Lister came up behind him and hugged him tightly.

Jimmy yelped.

“Where’s the food?!” Lister shook him a little, imitating Batman.

“Your hands are so cold!” Jimmy protested, but there was a trace of laughter in his voice. “On the stove, you bully!”

Lister almost flew over there, looking under the lid on the pot.

“Pasta,” Jimmy shrugged. “I needed my comfort food, so that’s that for you.” Lister smiled and thanked him, because yes, he was starving. Pasta was Jimmy’s go-to meal to cook, as it was quick to make and he was a pasta-sauce prodigy.

While his dinner was heating up in the microwave, Jimmy made small-talk about the supposed unused lyrics Rowan and him exchanged. Lister found it hard to lie to him, so he just turned to playful teasing, telling Jimmy to stop sniffing around, he’ll hear it when the time comes.

“Oh come on,” Jimmy huffed. “I’m just asking! And it’s my show, too. Spill it.”

“Sorry. Totally gonna steal your spotlight.”

“Lister, just tell me what it is.”

“A song.”

“What song?”

“A song that you have to wait for.”

“Babe, what song?!”

Lister took him by the waist and pulled him against his body. “Are you trying to ‘babe’ me into telling you right now? Is that what’s happening? Right in front of my pasta?” He went in for a kiss, and Jimmy tried to murmur something against his lips… but then he gave up. They leaned into each other and kept kissing until Lister pulled away to open the microwave. He got himself a fork and went to sit down after the long day, but Jimmy stayed there, right next to the sink. Looking a bit like he was going to hurl.

Before Lister could ask if he’s okay, Jimmy sat down on the other chair with a determined look on his face.

“There is something I need to discuss!” he blurted out.

Lister cautiously dropped the fork back into the bowl. “Okay…? And it’s something to do with me, yeah?”

“Yep. A lot to do with you.” He was visibly nervous. He clasped his hands together, as if Lister would have not noticed. “I… I was thinking about this one thing, and I need your opinion about it.”

“Cool. Go for it.”

“It’s about our relationship.”

“Are you aware you sound very sinister right now?”

He wildly shook his hands as if he wanted to dry them off. “Sorry, didn’t mean to,” he apologized in a strained voice. Then he cleared his throat, sharply lifted his eyes towards Lister’s and exclaimed, “I would like to reveal that we’re together.”

Lister felt everything about his face go lax in shock. He opened his eyes round and wide, his mouth followed, and Jimmy looked like he would faint.

“I, er. I just. I thought about it and I think it’s a decent idea and – please say something, Lister, before I get a fucking heart attack right now.”

It must have been so hard for him to speak up. Lister thought of his proposal plans and felt his mouth slowly form a smile. “I think it’s… brilliant! Yes, I would really like to do that!”

“Wait, really?”

“This is – I didn’t think you would want to, when did you change your mind?”

Jimmy shrugged, grinning in a sheepish way that made him look much younger. And cuter. “I thought I just… wanted to be open about this part of my life. Figured it’s time to say we are together. But if you, like, don’t feel like it, then…”

Lister beamed. “I feel like it. If you do, I do, trust me.” He walked around the table and lifted Jimmy into a hug. He laughed, relieved.

This was when it dawned on Lister… it was not such an easy matter. Exciting, yes, but it would gather all kinds of attention. He leaned onto the table, grabbed his dinner and him and Jimmy started talking about the situation it would put them in. If both are truly okay with it, how much would they reveal, when is the best time to do it. They kept talking through the bathroom door and while they were changing into pajamas in their bedroom.

As they were laying down and Lister gestured Jimmy to crawl into his arms, they became quieter. “You know why I also want to say it?” Jimmy mumbled, lying on the soft linen with one eye open.

“I’m all ears.”

“If I have to see one more article about which model or actress you’re screwing, I’m gonna lose the remaining marbles that I have.” Lister started chuckling as Jimmy awkwardly added, “Which is, admittedly, not many. Most have been lost in my youth.”

“Oh no,” Lister laughed and turned Jimmy’s face upwards to his. “So this just in: my boyfriend is possessive. Fancy that.”

“I’m not, it’s… I am… Oh, you hated Jowan, stop being smug.”

“I know I did, we both know. But jealous Jimmy? That’s a rare sight.”

“It’s just super uncomfortable. It’s all women, as well.”

“Heteronormativity is a bitch,” Lister nodded. He snuggled closer and let out a breath, “Don’t worry though. I am exclusively your problem.”

Jimmy kissed him, smiling. Lister felt lightheaded. He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against Jimmy’s. He loved this – he loved how much he felt for him after so long they have been together. It never ceased or faded away… because it was Jimmy.

Lister was pretty sure he would love him until his last day on Earth.

It was time to start looking for a ring.

JIMMY

Not much later, they had a team meeting scheduled with all the important people at their recording company that were involved with their tour. Jimmy and Lister announced their intention to come out during the tour, and with Rowan’s full support, it wasn’t too hard to win the producers over. Jimmy had anticipated the PR people would deem it overly risky to their image, but they were fairly chill. As Rowan had put it, “As if anything about The Ark was ever about pandering to conservatives.”

They agreed that their demographic is absolutely different, and before they knew it, they were being ignored while people were exchanging speculations about how it all could help them promote the tour.

“If they do it on, like, the second show…”

“…we could sell some extra tickets after… another wave…”

“…that would probably be a good time to release a single, something related to…”

Jimmy felt something in his chest sink. This is why they left. These people took something good, something from their hearts and souls, and wanted to turn it into money. Some part of him understood, that’s how business works, but mostly, he just felt really sad for them.

“Oi!” Lister exploded over the chatter. “Sorry, but we are still here, and – Could you maybe not act like this coming out is a marketing tactic?!”

The room went briefly silent.

Jimmy squeezed his hand under the table to say a silent thanks. Then he choked out, “That’s not why we’re doing it!”

Their producer looked at them over the top of her reading glasses.

“Of course it’s not, love,” she cooed. “But to say it bluntly, I think you need all the help you can get.”

After many weeks and many briefings, they had agreed on making the announcement on the third show. Right in the middle of tour. Everybody was nervous, expectant, but there was this air of hopefulness when Jimmy and Lister ended up alone together. The glimmer in his partner’s eye when their eyes met promised something… no, it was not living absolutely openly, they still wanted privacy. But it felt like they were sealing something.

This was not an easy coming out.

But they were in for it. Together.

LISTER

“Just so I know,” Rowan said as Lister was trying to take off his Doc Martens with all his might, “what did you tell Jimmy this time?”

“We’re still working on music.”

“We should really make something then, before you go. I am not gonna lie to my childhood best friend, y’know.”

Finally, the boot came off, and Lister got off the little cabinet in Rowan’s hall. Abby was already making tea, and when she saw him walk by the kitchen door, she just nodded at him. Lister smirked at her; she loved pretending to still be mad at him for taking Rowan to a strip club on his stag night. (Or was it dancing on the table at the wedding reception? Anyhow.)

Rowan sat him down in the lounge and started the conversation with: “So. The big reveal is getting closer. How are we feeling?”

“I – great, good. I’m fine, and Jimmy seems to be fine, so yeah, we’re fine.”

“But I assume that’s not what you need help with?”

“You assume right. I will need you to bear with me, though.”

“That sounds interesting,” Rowan retorted and flashed a smile at Abby who was bringing them two steaming mugs of earl gray. “And when I say interesting I mean impending doom, why thank you, Abby!”

“No problem.” She slowly leaned over, careful not to lose balance with her belly, and kissed him on the forehead. “I’ll be off for my swimming class then. You two behave, will you.”

As she was making her way to the hall, Lister jokingly remarked, “No goodbye kiss for me?”

She stopped in the middle of the room and exchanged a glance with Rowan. Rowan, stirring his tea with a teaspoon, said, “Please don’t kill him, I need him for the concert.”

“Come on, you guys, I was fully kidding. Goodbye, Abby,” he waved to her with a bright smile. “Enjoy your swimming stuff!”

“Thank you, will do.” She disappeared.

“Just a question!” he called after her. She came back with an eyeroll. “Is it, like, harder to swim when you are pregnant? Like, I don’t mean to insult you or anything, I’m just genuinely wondering.”

She, too, put aside her snarky façade for a second. “Actually, I go there because it’s relieving. The water makes you float, so the weight of the baby is taken off my back and legs for a little while.”

“Oh! That’s clever.”

“Thank you. The more you know, am I right?”

“You know what I was just thinking of?”

“Yeah? I really have to go.”

“When you’re swimming, you’re a human submarine for the baby.”

It seemed to take Abby a minute to realize what he was saying. Very slowly, she brought her palm to her forehead.

Rowan then didn’t make it much better by adding, “Since when does a submarine have water inside? That would defeat the purpose.”

Lister thought about it and then gasped. “So… right now, you are a reverse human submarine!”

Abby looked at them both, clearly lost for words. “I’ll just go…” She closed the lounge door behind her.

After a good ten minutes of Rowan half laughing and half chastising Lister for saying the things he says, Lister threw his hands up in the air and claimed they seem to have “traded their sense of humour for a marriage certificate” two years ago.

Rowan immediately followed: “Speaking of marriage, any updates on that? You and…?”

“Well, my friend, that is precisely what we need to talk about today.”

“Okay. The meeting is officially in session, go.”

“First: am I the only one that was really surprised by Jimmy wanting to make us public? Because I really didn’t expect that at all.”

“Yeah, I guess he’s still full of surprises, huh?”

“That he is. However, Ro, I was thinking, and I still want to do a proposal. No – let me finish, it’s not that straightforward. I spent a lot of time talking to Jimmy about what he wants and how he sees the future, and you were super right in saying that I should never put him on the spot like that. Being so exposed to the public when we were kids messed with us in a big way, all of us.”

Rowan snapped his fingers in agreement.

“The idea is… It would be a proposal before a proposal. Like… I don’t know, announcing that I have the intention of proposing to him soon. And asking him if he is okay with that, you know? If he’s okay with the idea of saying yes. That way,” Lister gesticulated with his hands, “he’s not forced right there to say yes, the eventual real proposal can be sort of expected, which would calm him down a bit, but still a surprise, because when is it going to happen? I’m not saying.”

Rowan stared at him for about three seconds. “That was… a whole thing, buddy.”

“Thoughts?”

“I’m just trying to wrap my head around this. Wait. You want to do a proposal before the actual proposal.”

“Yes.”

“On stage. At the same time you are announcing that the two of you are together?”

“No! I mean, I don’t think so. I thought like, more at the end, maybe.”

“Proposal before a proposal…”

“It’s clever, if you think about it.”

“To me, it just seems very extra, Lister. Which I know is your trademark, but –”

“No, but listen. I want to propose to Jimmy. He wouldn’t survive a big flashy proposal, but I still want to make it a big deal, because it is. Ergo, I announce that I want to spend the rest of my stupid little life with him and ask him if it is okay to propose to him one day, likely soon.”

Rowan’ expression changed. “That does make sense,” he said. “For the two of you, especially.”

“Okay then: dear dad, do I have your blessing?”

“Never call me that again. But yes.”

“You are the closest to being a father out of all of us.”

“That is not what it sounds like and you know it.”

JIMMY

The first show was an explosion of feeling and memories. Nauseous with anxiety, burdened with expectation and weak in the knees, Jimmy ran into his first appearance on the stage the same way he would run into the middle of the highway. The lights and screams and colours almost blew him to pieces and then glued him back together. His first words addressed to the crowd and the earth-shattering screams that came in answer woke something in him, a force of nature. The gig was rather small compared to those they ended on ten years ago, but the crowd loved them to pieces and oh, he felt so alive.

The second show was slightly bigger, yes, and their fans didn’t disappoint. Plenty of pride flags were chucked at him, and he waved them and gave them to his mates and it made him even more excited about what him and Lister were going to do the next time round. These people stayed with them for so long, this sea of faces that looked toward him… for many of them, he would be the representation they need, again.

He remembered being a young trans boy, questioning if there is a life, a future, for him. Where were all the queer adults? The trans adults? How could he imagine adult life if he had never seen someone like him live it?

There he was, now. Adult. Gay. Transgender. A lot of time, he still knew very little about what he was doing, but he had a boyfriend who knew equally little, and together, they might be just what some queer kid in the crowd yearns to see.

LISTER

It was D-Day. Christ and Mary, it was, and they were going to say it. Finally. The staff have been informed, the security has been strengthened, they did everything so that some fan wouldn’t try and knock them the fuck out…, but he was still incredibly nervous. Minutes before the show, among all the rush and flourish, he caught Jimmy and pulled him to the side, apologizing to a couple of sound guys securing some cables on the ground.

“How are you doing?” he blurted out.

“I’ll die, but maybe in a good way. You?”

“Same. Or I’ll throw up, in a bad way.”

“Wait really?”

“No, I’m sick, but not the vomiting kind.”

“Anxiety! Welcome to the club!” Jimmy shouted as he was being ushered away under the stage so he could come up on a platform.

More pushing, more ushering, and he stood next to Rowan.

Their intro – a dramatic organ solo as light flashed through the artificial fog like sunbeams – was rumbling all around them. The crowd was losing their minds. He didn’t know how, but he still heard Rowan whisper:

“Lister, promise me you won’t do the other thing today!”

“Told you I won’t, stop being patronizing!” he snapped back, but then it was their time, and they were on a stage, coming up from behind Jimmy, each on every side, acting astonished as they supposedly came down from Noah’s Ark onto new land.

Listed dared to put his hand on Jimmy’s shoulder as they did so.

The show was on.

Here we go.

JIMMY

During the concert, he used every opportunity to interact with the audience that he had. It felt a bit manipulative at first – he wanted them to be up for a bit of talking, eventually – but then the feeling of guilt faded away. However complicated his relationship with the fans used to be, these people were the fans. They stayed loyal to them, they kept their music in their hearts, and came to this revival gig…

It would be okay, okay, okay.

When the last accords of the last song whizzed away into the night and he was thanking the crowd that stomped and cheered and waved signs in hope of an encore… he stopped at the front of the stage. Rowan strummed a few last cords on the guitar and fell silent.

He wished he had somewhere to sit down. His legs were shaking.

But he was not afraid. Not really.

“Now, you guys, these shows are very special for us. Because every single one of you, as we’re standing here and looking at each other, you have been waiting for so long…” His voice was drowned out by cheers. “For so long, you have not forgotten us, you came to our shows, you have been amazingly supportive, and I want to thank you, from the bottom of my heart!” He shouted the last few words as the sea of faces roared in joy.

When they calmed down again, he continued. “And because you are the ones that stuck with us… because of that, I would like to say a few things to you.

If you know about the days of my youth…” Pause as people laughed and shouted affirmations at him. “…you would probably remember that I was presumed to be in a relationship with a person that is standing on the stage with me, right now.”

It was good that only a few people cheered. But it made him sick to the stomach, still.

“Okay, no,” Rowan came in, and people applauded, and he pointed at them with a not-so-fake scolding look, “no, no, don’t you woo at me, young lady. This is so utterly not a thing! Jimmy has never left the friendzone!”

“Same here,” Jimmy laughed and patted Rowan across the back, maybe a little too hard, overcompensating. “Did you all, like, miss that Rowan came out as straight all those years ago?”

People were laughing. Nobody really cared, they just found it funny. Rowan claimed he was leaving it to Jimmy before “the PR team has me taken out”, and retreated a few steps, leaving Jimmy to face the crowd again.

Deep breaths, he told himself.

“What I wanted to say was that there was one thing that those people back then got right.” Breathe in, breathe out. “I am gay.”

Two seconds of silence and then an absolute thunderstorm of an applause. A rainbow pride flag landed at his feet and Jimmy took it, with meek laughter, and put it around his shoulders. He heard Rowan cheer and clap too, and for what felt like years, he couldn’t get a word in. He wished the whole world could be like this.

“I – gosh, thank you all, I’m not sure whether it was a surprise,” he finally managed to say, his voice breaking a little from surprise, “but yeah. I am a trans, gay man…” The hall exploded with joyous noise. “…and it’s not all that there is to me, but I’m here. And queer. Hello.”

He thought he was going to pass out. He had a clever segway prepared, but he couldn’t remember a word of it. This was the moment. He wanted to say it, but at the same time… How could he? It was so hard, why do things have to be so hard?

“The other… the second thing,” he said, gripping the pride flag. “It is that… wow, it’s hard. It’s that I am…” He felt himself turn around, and like a lost child call: “Lister?”

Lister climbed out from behind the drum set instantly. Nobody cheered, there were only confused whispers. Jimmy looked at him, asking for help without words, and he knew, as he always did. Jimmy found a place to look, above the crowd, beyond everything, as Lister stepped in and slowly took his hand.

“The second thing is that we are together,” Lister said, his voice steady.

And the crowd lost it.

There were people wailing in happy tears. Screaming at the top of their lungs. A dissonance of chanting their names, all at a different rhythm, before Rowan ran up to them and hugged them and spurred the crowd on, and they stood there wrapped in a pride flag, and Jimmy was kind of crying and leaning on Lister, and it was another half an hour of a pure mess, before they really left the stage with their ears buzzing and eyes wide.

Jimmy and Lister tumbled into a corner somewhere, and Jimmy had happy tears streaming down his cheeks and they were kissing and holding each other and shaking.

“Oh, I’m such a mess,” Jimmy laughed as he was smearing tears and foundation on his sleeve.

“And I love you so much,” Lister blurted out in a moment of raw honesty.

“Me too,” Jimmy took one of his hands and kissed the palm. “I love you so fucking much it’s unreal sometimes.”

LISTER

This was, hands down, the most jittery Lister got before a show. Ever.

Currently, he found himself sat at an old sofa in the dressing room, hands clasped and both legs involuntarily jumping up and down. Was it annoying? Likely. But he had to let his knees jump in such a vigorous way because if he hadn’t, his teeth might start clattering.

He hated that he couldn’t just be pumped and excited. He had to feel this unsettling, buzzing mess of an emotion. Anxiety, as Jimmy informed him. This is what it’s like for an anxious person, he said… except make it all the time and often for no real reason.

Lister shook his head a little.

His reason, too, was basically nothing. He knew. As if Jimmy would actually reject him or something…

Or would he?

Maybe he could? Oh God, maybe he could…

“Hey! You’re actually scaring me, what’s up with you?!”

Lister blinked in confusion. He saw Jimmy as he was making his way over. A half scolding, half worried look decorated his face.

He lowered his voice when he added: “The last time I saw you like this was when you had withdrawal symptoms. You can tell me if that’s what it is.”

“It’s not that. I’m fine,” Lister insisted. Crap, he was panicking too hard to actually come up with anything convincing. Come on, Bird, focus… He’s onto you…

“Actually,” Rowan’s voice travelled to them from the corner, “I just think we had weird coffee.”

“What? But you’re fine.”

“Yeah, well,” Rowan continued to make up a story, “we both got one, but I didn’t like the taste, it was too strong. Lister felt bad for throwing them out so he finished both of them, didn’t you?”

“Ye-Yes,” he finally caught on. Had to admit, Ro was impressive at this. Lister started to believe what their friend used to say: that he can lie very well, he just chooses not to. “I didn’t want to waste it. The coffee.”

“Lister,” Jimmy grunted in disbelief, hands on his hips. “That was a brilliant idea, you walnut! Look at yourself, you’re gonna be sick now!”

“I’m not.”

“You look it.”

“I’m just…” He rubbed his clammy hands together. “I’m just anxious I guess.”

“Well, no shit. Why do you think I avoid caffeine?” Jimmy sighed and dropped into a squat in front of Lister. He took Lister’s hands in his. “Seriously, are you okay? You’re not gonna have a heart attack, are you?”

“No, babe. I’m alright.” The last thing he wanted was for his boyfriend to be anxious too.

He looked down at Jimmy. The realization dawned on him, as he noticed that his partner dropped onto one of his knees to be more comfortable; very soon, the roles will be reversed. It will be Lister down on one knee, only Jimmy would be standing up in that case…

Okay.

Wow.

This is what true internal screaming felt like.

“You need water, as in now,” Jimmy decided and jumped up. “I’ll need you to drink at least three glasses before we start, that should help.”

He rushed out of the room to get hands on some water. Rowan and Lister looked at each other, the pretence gone.

“Alright?” Rowan nodded.

“I’m fucking choking, dude,” Lister replied.

It almost looked as if his friend was going to give him advice, or maybe say something generic and calming… but instead, Rowan let out a small laugh. Lister’s lips started twisting without him giving the command.

And then the two collapsed laughing. The pressure of this being the very last show and the knowledge of what Lister was about to do at the end of it were just the right recipe for hysterics.

Jimmy didn’t bother to ask twice what the joke was, as long as they promised they weren’t laughing at him.

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

As the concert was coming to an end and the crowd was cheering and chanting for an encore, Rowan seized the opportunity and called: “Alright, friends, we would like to indulge you in a little experiment! Can you join me at the front, Lister?”

Lister got out from behind the drum set and jogged to meet the rest of the group. Jimmy smiled, but his eyes studied both of them suspiciously. “What is this?”

Lister lazily raised his arms with the palms of his hands towards the crowd. “I have to admit, we kind of didn’t tell Jimmy what this is about. Sorry, my guy.” People laughed. Rowan signalled someone backstage, as Lister added: “But just so you don’t feel left out, you can have this triangle.” A nervous assistant handed Jimmy the instrument and ran off again.

Everybody was jeering and whistling, but there was an air of anticipation in the air.

“Oh wow, that’s generous of you,” Jimmy grimaced.

“I know, right? Anyhow.” Lister took a step forward, trying to calm himself. He could do this. He had acting jobs, he could absolutely pull this off.

He was Lister freaking Bird! He was the fan favourite!

“Dear audience, allow me to tell you a tale,” he addressed the crowd in his best narrator voice. A couple of screams rose from the crowd, but everyone else was listening intently. Behind him, Rowan started strumming a little melody on his guitar – one they created especially as a backdrop to Lister’s talk.

“I know this is a little unusual,” Lister admitted to the sea of people, “I know that you’re used to stories coming to you via this man’s voice,” he pointed at Jimmy, “and this man’s lyrics.” Rowan. “I know that I am just a simple drummer in this arrangement. But today, I will do the voice and the words. Because, well… Talking all the time is the one thing I am actually good at.”

That made the crowd laugh. Good. Great.

“But now, on with the story!” he exclaimed and made a motion with his hands as if he was showing them a canvas.

“Picture this. We are all fifteen, stuffed into a tiny studio in London,” he smiled, as if nostalgic. His voice flowed out of him in a steady melody, like the hum of a river. “We all had that awkward long hair phase – yes, I see some true veterans in the audience today. Good,” he smiled at a couple of girls in the front who seemed to know exactly which haircuts he meant. He raised his hands again. “I am sitting outside the recording room, behind the glass. On the other side, there’s Jimmy. I can see him clearly, I hope you can too,” he said, keeping his dreamy smile. “The giant black hoodie. The fringe almost hiding his eyes. Jimmy waits for the cue, bouncing up and down,” he chuckled as he swayed up and down on his toes, “and then starts singing the interlude in our first album. It’s only about two lines that we need to record, but I remember wishing it lasted longer. Obviously. Because his voice is amazing.”

The audience started yelling and swooning at once. Lister was honestly more okay looking at them than if he had to look at Jimmy and see what his reaction is.

Now, here comes the real cliché.

“But then,” he paused with real embarrassment in his voice, “then he looked up from under his hair… at me, with those big brown eyes… and asked me, if he was okay.”

Breathe in, and:

“My friends, that was the moment I have fallen for Jimmy Kaga-Ricci.”

A roar of screams started rising from the audience, when Rowan strummed dramatically on the guitar, as if something tragic had happened. Lister shot a look at Jimmy and found him laughing. Surprised, but amused.

Thank fuck. I’ve never told him that before.

On the outside, he theatrically turned to Rowan and scolded him: “I was just getting sentimental here?”

Rowan shrugged and strummed a more positive jingle. Everyone laughed and clapped. Lister was starting to enjoy this, actually. He sighed and walked forward onto a prolonged platform where Jimmy was usually stood on.

“Well, maybe my trusty assistant was right with the sound effects,” he admitted jovially. “Because my crush absolutely did not like me back for years. Hey, but that’s not to throw shade at the guy,” he added quickly to prevent any pitiful reaction that would make Jimmy feel bad. “Because you have to consider that I was and still am a bloody mess of a person.” That amused the listeners. Lister turned round, as he exclaimed. “I am the creator of problems, the maker of terrible decisions. We can all agree that Jimmy is a lovely lad…” He had to pause for the overwhelming reaction in support of that statement. “Yes, he is, but inflicting my teenage self upon him, that would just not be right.”

Jimmy suddenly clanked the metal stick against the triangle in an absolute cacophony to draw attention to himself. “Excuse me,” he called to Lister, “could you stop insulting yourself? I would enjoy that.”

A girl somewhere below them screamed as if she was getting murdered. They exchanged a quick glance, as if to say a little yikes, but then Lister laughed it off.

“Sorry, sorry,” he continued. “Through it all, Jimmy was always here for me. He was one of my first real friends. He was understanding when I needed it most, and ready to kick my ass when I needed it most.” He smiled at his boyfriend and hoped his voice is not shaking. “Look at you, Jimmy! I’m being embarrassing in front of hundreds of people and you still haven’t walked off stage.”

Jimmy laughed and lightly hit the triangle. He was ever the professional, but his eyes glimmered in curiosity. Expectation.

Lister kept looking at him. Rowan was strumming a slightly different melody now, and if Lister did say so himself, the atmosphere was fucking perfect.

“What I want to say is…, I feel that we were together before we got together. We were always partners. A great team. Maybe you wouldn’t think the same,” he admitted to Jimmy, “but a girl can dream. Oh! A rhyme!” He exclaimed to a symphony of awwws and ooohs. People were laughing again, clapping here and there. “That will be the only time!” Lister made a face of feigned shock. “Or not? Wow, I’m unpredictable!”

“You’re hot,” Jimmy rhymed with unexpected confidence.

The crowd was screaming their heads off at this interaction. Even Lister was a little flustered. He came back to his bandmates and gestured toward Jimmy, who was still smirking a little. “And he can improv, what’s not to like, honestly!”

Now, there came the challenge. Lister took a deep breath and prayed to all deities that were listening for this to come off as more sweet than cringy.

His voice fell into a different rhythm. One he kept studying every possible minute from any good slam poetry or original poem reading he could find online.

“But now, if our audience permits,” he put one hand on his chest, turning directly to Jimmy, “I would like to address you. Because, dear Jimmy, although I love each face in the crowd, my friends, my family, those that are both… I can state loud and proud that the biggest part of my heart goes to you.” He grinned sheepishly at Jimmy’s stunned expression, when he added: “If not all of it.”

“I can only guess what goes on in that mind, whether you think this is suspicious or kind… I can’t know these things. But there is one thing I do know. That no matter how much we grow, what we lose and what we gain, through all the smiles and all the pain, I will love you. It’s as big and as small as this. And today was an opportunity I couldn’t miss. So, nobody panic, stay in your seats. It’s not what it looks like.”

He got down on one knee in front of his boyfriend.

Jimmy gasped in sync with the audience: “Lister!” He backed away.

“Oh no, mister, don’t panic,” Lister retorted. That managed to amuse Jimmy a little – that he would know this would be the reaction. The audience was still going absolutely wild. Another pride flag just about missed Lister’s left ear.

“As I said, it’s not what it looks like. And I’m sick of rhyming by now, so…” He reached for Jimmy’s hand. Pulled it down to his by the triangle and encouragingly pressed a thumb into his palm. “I wanted to tell you – in a way that means something – that I don’t see myself living my life with anyone but you. So I have a question. Can you imagine me proposing in the near future?”

Jimmy looked like he suddenly couldn’t speak any human language. The only thing that came from his open lips was: “Huh?”

He was trying not to panic. To explain it well. Better than he had to Rowan.

“I would like to start talking about marriage. With you. I’m asking your permission to… go pick out a ring, perhaps. And propose to you. One day.”

“You want to…” He was trying so hard to make sense of this situation. Lister could almost hear the wheels in his brain clanking and whirring. After a second, Jimmy blurted out about the last thing Lister expected. “You really want to marry me?”

He had to laugh. That sounded so bizarre! You have the wrong number, I don’t think you want to marry me, of all people. As if.

Covering Jimmy’s hand with both of his own, he answered: “Who else, Jimmy?”

As there was no instant reply, Lister felt the audience grow impatient.

This was the time to smooth things out. Make it amusing.

“Okay, I don’t want to stress you out. You can just think about it,” he ensured his partner. But I just wanted to let you know my, er, intentions.” Wow, great choice of words, Bird. But was there any better? He decided to make fun of himself a little when he sarcastically added: “Because this is the regency era, apparently.”

People were losing it. However, Lister was only looking at Jimmy now… and realized that the eyes of his boyfriend were welling up with tears as he looked down. Were they happy or sad tears? Shit.

“Oh…” Lister managed to say, when Jimmy dropped the triangle on the floor with a thud and shakily took Lister’s face into his soft palms.

His voice was trembling with emotion, as he answered:

“Allister Bird, I would love to marry you. I don’t think you even need to propose again.”

Before Lister could even register what he meant, Jimmy leaned down and gently pressed a kiss at his forehead. This was probably as close to kissing in public as Jimmy would ever allow.

Lister finally realized. He realized.

At the same time, Jimmy dropped down and Lister shot up. They embraced each other tightly, a mess of crumpled clothes and limbs and teary laughing, and Lister almost lifted Jimmy off the ground as he was happy-crying into the shorter man’s shoulder.

They heard Rowan screaming at the top of his lungs: “HE SAID YES, PEOPLE!” His voice was drowned out by the massive storm of excited screams that wouldn’t seize for good twenty minutes after.

But Lister and Jimmy didn’t really pay attention.

Paradoxically, although everyone could see them – and everyone would see them, as the news probably already travelled through the internet at the speed of light – it felt like this moment was theirs alone.

[troubatrain]

the times when things got hard...

two blurbs following want you to want me

read the rest here!

Matthew was having a hard time.

Everything was just bad. Changes were coming in Calgary and Matthew was falling behind for the first time in his life. He was down to the third line, he couldn’t score a goal to save his life, and while he was falling apart - he was enviously watching you succeed. Matthew had maybe three more weeks until you’d be at his doorstep from a training camp you had to attend. He was being patient, trying desperately not to call and make you feel upset for not being there when he was having a rough time. He’d been on his own for long enough, Matthew knew how to handle it, but everything was different now.

You were the first person Matthew talked to in the morning and the last one he talked to before bed. Your apartments in your cities had both of your names on the leases. Every piece of the homes were littered with relics of both of your accomplishments. Those things were important to your relationship, but the only thing Matthew had yet to do was lean on you for emotional support when he really needed it. Chantal once told you it might never happen, years of watching his father come home with nothing short of a smile on his face and advice to his kids to just leave it on the ice.

And you were fine with that.

Well, you were trying to be fine with it. You knew Matthew was having trouble, cringing when you saw him snap a stick in half in the penalty box the night before. He had bags under his eyes, exhaustion clear in his voice over Facetime right after. Those things were obvious, but when you were bed alone and Matthew didn’t ask you once for phone sex, you knew he was down bad. So you snuck a flight to Canada, keeping your secret to yourself until you unlocked the door to your shared apartment.

You put your things away quietly, throwing on a pair of Matthew’s sweats you were secretly missing because all of the ones you’d stolen just didn’t smell like him anymore. You missed him more than you realized, down the way he always made your coffee in the morning, and even though it wasn’t the way you usually drank it - you took it with a smile.

Then you heard a door slam, causing you to jump. You’d caught the last bit of the game in the car, listening to the radio with your cab driver who had nothing kind to say about the current state of the city’s hockey team. It wasn’t pretty, a ten minute major throwing Matthew out of the game and just as you suspected, he was pissed.

“Babe?” You call out, stepping out the bedroom and taking Matthew in. Fresh black eye, cut above his brow making it clear that even if he’d won that fight it wasn’t pretty. His tie was long gone, loose around his neck with a few buttons undone. He looked sad, a deep sigh leaving his body when he finally saw you.

Matthew didn’t say a word, emotionally overwhelmed to the point where he was speechless. You were standing right in front of him, like he desperately needed you to be. He didn’t have to ask, beg for you to be there for him, and something about that was so important to Matthew he didn’t have a word to describe it.

“I’m awful,” Matthew mumbled, pressing his head into your neck. You could feel the tears freely flowing from his eyes. Your heart was breaking, a guilt washing over you that maybe you could have been there sooner.

“Matty, you’re having a tough time right now but that doesn’t mean shit and you know that,” You try to reason with him, running your fingers through his overgrown curls. He shook his head no, his fingers digging into your hips, “Babe look at me.”

“No,” Matthew shook his head again, and you just took a deep breath, “Everyone wants me out of here, you’ll probably be next.”

You grab his hand, holding it out for that same silly handshake Matthew made up when you started dating. His lips twitched, forming a smirk while he slapped his hand against yours. Left, right, and a sweet kiss to your lips just like he always did, “I’m not going anywhere… except for back to camp.”

“You’re allowed to be here right?” Matthew questions, voice raspy and his lips ghosting over yours. It was a weird guilt he felt, like you’d left before you were supposed to for him and that if you were in some shit it would be his fault. He never wanted to be the reason you felt held back, a constant battle with his own selfish need to want you around but his unselfish want to see you flourish.

“You needed me and I’m here,” You whisper, leaving out the part where you really shouldn’t have left but if you were back by Monday nobody would know you were ever gone. You grab his cheeks, gently wiping away a few stray tears that had fallen from his eyes, “Please don’t ever think you’re a burden for talking to me about the hard times. I’m here for the good and the bad, the way you’re playing isn’t

going to change that.”

“I love you,” Matthew mumbles, pulling you into his chest and pressing his lips to your forehead, “And I missed you so much-”

“I did too, we have some time to make up for, I think,” You look up at Matthew, who had a smug smile and his brows raised at you. His hand landed on your ass, a chuckle following.

“I think my dick missed you the most.”

“I’m glad to see you’re feeling better.”

****

She’s barely even with him.

It was one comment on your instagram photo, some stranger deciding they knew more about your relationship with Matthew than you did. A series of comments followed, all because Matthew insisted on using that stupid rocket emoji on your picture, all of them the same.

I heard it’s all for PR so he doesn’t look like a bad guy.

He’s definitely cheating on her.

It wasn’t just that, things had been hard on you lately. You hadn’t scored in weeks, your loss column just getting higher while wins seemed to slip out from under you. Every part of your body was sore, that terrible habit you had of pushing yourself to the point of exhaustion was hard to break. It was even harder when Matthew was all the way in Canada and he couldn’t be there. You didn’t want to complain about it, there were plenty of times you weren’t there for him and whining wasn’t helping either of you, but you needed to see him.

You deleted the text on your phone a thousand times, a please come see me cry for help that Matthew couldn’t answer. He was on a road trip in New York, and there wasn’t anyway possible he could leave. Besides, it would’ve been unfair to put him in that kind of position.

Except Matthew knew you were struggling, keeping tabs on you while he was away because that was part of being a good boyfriend. Every loss your team took was breaking his heart, and you were way too stubborn to admit when you were upset. Which is why he started with a simple text.

Hey, I love you, and I’m proud of you.

No answer.

Matthew furrowed his brows, laying back on his hotel room bed and wondering if you were mad at him. Did he miss something? There was no way, a promise Matthew made to himself that he wasn’t going to fuck this up for himself by forgetting something as simple as an anniversary. He settled on Facetiming you, and when the phone only rang once before you ended it, he knew you ignored him. He called, two rings before you finally picked up, sniffling into the phone.

“I’m still enough right?” You whisper, your position much like his all the way in New York. You were laying in your bed, the one you’d shared with your boyfriend dozens of times, trying to fight off your own personal demons.

“You’re everything to me, you know that,” Matthew rushed out, his eyes widening at your words, “Babe-”

“You wouldn’t cheat on me?” You ask, Matthew mentally trying to figure out if he could swing a quick trip to Chicago and be back to play the Rangers by seven the next night.

“Never in my fucking life,” Matthew promises, shocked that you’d even think that. You were different, and he didn’t play games when it came to your relationship, “Can you tell me what’s going on?”

“It was just some comments on my Instagram picture about how we’re barely together, and, fuck, Matty they’re right,” You cry, Matthew was silent on the otherside of the phone, “I miss you and I can’t see you and I knew this would happen-”

“They’re not right,” Matthew growls, running a hand through his hair, “Y/N, I love you more than anything else in this world and if you asked me to hang it up tomorrow I would. Except you wouldn’t, because this is special, and fuck what other people have to say about it.”

“Promise?” You whisper, wiping your eyes and taking a deep breath, inhaling whatever scent was left of Matthew’s on his hoodie you were wearing.

“Yeah you’re stuck with me babe,” Matthew hums, smiling when he finally heard you let out a laugh on the other side of the phone, “I’m ordering you dinner, and go relax because you have a game tomorrow.”

“You have one too you know,” You muse, feeling lighter than you did when he called.

“First one to score wins?”

“Oh you’re on!”

“That’s my girl.”

[fallen-gravity]

Soft Hearts and After-Midnight Talks

Ford can’t let go of the past. Mabel can’t stop worrying about the future.

Put together, they’re a melting pot of insomnia and overwhelming emotions.

AO3 Link

Love had never come easy to Ford. 

As a kid, his father always said it wasn’t manly to show affection. It made a man weak to wear his heart on his sleeve, and he was merely doing him a favor by showing him tough love, because out in the real world the men who put their emotions first would get torn to shreds. 

His mother tried her hardest, but she too had times where she was too busy running her psychic hotline or helping Pa run the pawn shop to pay him much attention.

Ford supposes the closest he ever had to unconditional love as a kid came from Stan. Whenever Ma or Pa were too busy, or the kids at school were screaming and running from his deformity, he knew he could always rely on Stan to be there for him. He’d always been the one to throw a punch for him, to talk him through a panic attack, patch up the scrapes and black eyes he’d received from Crampelter, or even assure him that getting a B minus on an exam wasn’t the end of the world, even if his eyes were rolling into the back of his skull the entire time he said it.

 But even that sort of love felt fickle. The night of the science fair, it felt as though something inside of Ford shriveled up and died, and he knew that the rejection from West Coast Tech was only the half the cause of it.

When Stan drove off into the night, it’s as if he took that shriveled up little piece of Ford with him as his grand final fuck you. 

After that, Ford tried everything he could. In college he buried himself into the research he was most passionate for, but that could only get him so far when Fiddleford would drag him to bed and force him to be alone with his thoughts. He’d tried going out drinking to forget said thoughts, but he learned the hard way that he was an emotional drunk and alcohol only made those thoughts worse. 

If there’s anything he did know, it’s that this lack of love in his life could probably explain how he was able to fall for Bill’s cunning tricks so easy.

“Unlovable?” Bill’s words still rang in the back of his head. “By the time this portal’s finished, you’ll have the whole world at your feet! You’ll be a household name! There’ll be thousands cheering the name Stanford Pines, the man who changed the world!” 

What a fool he’d been, blissfully ignoring all of the warning signs for even the slightest chance that a gateway between worlds could earn him love.

What an even bigger fool he’d been to turn away his brother’s love even after ten years of nothing but fear and resentment standing between them.

Ford sighs. He knows, logically, that dwelling on the past will only make things worse. He knows things are okay between him and Stan now. They’re setting off on their first journey on the Stan-O War II next week; things couldn’t get any better between them.

But he also knows that insomnia and intrusive thoughts are a package deal. He’d tried sitting out on the front porch to gaze at the stars and feel the late-summer air on his face to relax, but his inner demons always find their way. 

There’s a tiny knock on the doorframe behind him. He jumps at the noise, and turns to see who else could possibly be awake at nearly three in the morning. He’s half expecting Stan, but to his surprise it’s Mabel, sleepily rubbing at her eyes with one hand and holding a half-empty cup of ice water in the other. 

“Grunkle Ford?” her voice is groggy and strained. “Is that you?” 

“Mabel?” is the only comprehensive response that comes out. “What are you doing up so late?” 

“Dipper cursed me with his insomnia and now I can’t sleep” she pouts, and takes a sip from her cup like it’s a shot glass as he joins him on the couch. “Why are you still up, Grunkle Ford?” she squints. “I feel like I should ask you the same question” 

He chuckles. “Nothing you need to worry about, dear. I’m just doing some thinking”

“Hmmm…” she squints long and hard at him, like she’s trying to read his mind. “Okay, but I’m watching you. I’m the expert at annoying people until they tell me what’s bothering them” 

Ford can’t help but smile. “Noted,” he replies, and shifts his position so he’s facing more towards her. “What about you? I’m the expert in insomnia, so I can’t imagine it’s the only thing keeping you awake"

For the briefest of moments, Mabel’s playful smile drops. She hides the sudden shift by taking another sip of water.

“What? Psshhh…” she dismisses the thought with a wave of her hand. “That’s silly! Everyone knows insomnia means you can’t sleep for no reason. Some expert you are, Grunkle Ford” 

She smiles, but it’s strained, and fake, and nothing like the usual smile she flashes when she’s joking around. 

“Mabel.” Ford says once, in a firm yet soft tone, and she winces. 

“Okay, fine” she mumbles, and drinks the rest of the water from her cup before she continues. “I’ve been having some dumb thoughts too”. 

Ford shakes his head. “There’s no such thing as a dumb thought, Mabel. Even if it’s bothering you, it’s indicative of how you’re really feeling” he pats gently at his lap, inviting her to scoot closer. “Maybe I can help” he smiles, ever so slightly, ever so softly. “Even us experts mess up in our own fields sometimes” 

She moves too quickly into his arms for a hug for him to read her expression properly. 

“Then I feel like a big dumb hypocrite” Mabel murmurs into Ford’s sweater, her voice on the edge of breaking. 

Ford frowns, and places an arm around her to reciprocate the hug. “What for?”

Mabel scrunches up his sweater in her fists. “I...I made this whole big ordeal about Dipper wanting to stay here with you after the summer’s over for the apprenticeship, and I still don’t want us to be apart, but…”  she buries her face into his sweater, like she’s ashamed of herself for even daring to speak them. “...now that summer’s actually over, and Dipper and I are supposed to be leaving in the morning, I’m not sure I even want to leave” 

Her voice finally breaks, and she sniffles into his sweater. “Everyone’s always saying that the real world is so scary, and high school is the worst, and all these things about not knowing what you had until it’s gone, and...I don’t want it to be gone, Grunkle Ford, I love Gravity Falls. But I can’t just tell Dipper that, because then he’ll get all worried, and think that he did something wrong, because he’s already apologized for what he said when we were fighting a thousand times, and-”

Ford gently grips Mabel’s shoulders to cut her off, and pulls her away to make her look him in the eyes. “Mabel, are you going through all of this trouble because you’re worried you’re going to...miss Gravity Falls when you get home?”

“Not just the town!” Mabel exclaims, and rubs at her eyes with her wrist. “I’m gonna miss everything! I’m gonna miss the Shack, I’m gonna miss my friends, I’m gonna miss you and Stan,” she counts off on her fingers and sighs. “I miss everyone at home. I do. But now that I have so many friends here, I don’t want to feel like I’m leaving them behind”

There’s a brief pause, but before Ford can open his mouth to respond, Mabel goes on, murmuring so quietly it’s as if she doesn’t mean to speak out loud at all. 

“Or...I don’t want to feel like they’re leaving me behind.”

...Oh.

The fear of being left behind.

Forgotten.

The fear of becoming….unlovable. 

That….Ford knows better than anybody. 

“Mabel, listen to me,” Ford gently tugs on her chin to force her to make eye contact with him. “Nobody in this town is ever going to forget you. It doesn’t matter if you’re gone for a year, or three, or ten, I can guarantee that the next time you step foot in this town everyone’s going to remember the name Mabel Pines”

“You...really think so?” she blushes. 

“I know so,” he nods. “And it’s got nothing to do with Weirdmageddon, or saving the world, or any of that. It’s because you’re magnetic, Mabel. You’ve got a personality that everyone loves. I bet that pizza delivery man you became pen pals with is just sitting at home eagerly awaiting his first letter from you” 

She giggles. “I don’t know about that…” 

“Still,” Ford continues, “You’ve shown kindness to everyone, Mabel. People don’t forget kindness easily.” he gestures out towards the forest. “Gravity Falls may not be your home, but the people who lived here sure don’t seem to see it that way. You’re not just a tourist, or just some kid visiting her great uncle, you’re one of them.” he beams. “They’re lucky to have had you, Mabel, even just for the one summer” 

Her eyes have pools of tears in them, but the beaming smile on her face outshines them. She hurls herself at him in a tight hug, burying her face deep into his sweater. 

“I’m lucky to have you too, Grunkle Ford” she murmurs. “I love you”

I love you.

Ford hasn’t had those words spoken to him since he was a kid. 

I love you.

It feels like he’s floating on air, and the most grounded he’s felt in decades. It’s freeing, and exhilarating, yet it’s comfortable, and warm. It’s unfamiliar, yet everything he ever lost. 

The words ring in his ears and bounce around in his chest before they settle comfortably into the piece of his heart that had been broken for decades.

I love you. 

Mabel Pines, after everything he’s put her through, loves him. 

A sound escapes him that’s halfway between choking and sobbing. He pulls her even closer into his arms, and silently vows to never let the cruel world dig its pessimistic claws into her for as long as she lives.

“I love you too,” he manages to whisper, and gives her a smooch on the top of her head.

[tiesthatbind-tf]

Question for Optimus and Megatron! Do you ever see yourselves reconciling in the future? At this point do you even want to?

The jagged edges of badly-healed scars and lines of age on the man’s face were thrown into clear relief by the soft blue glow of tablet in his hands as he studied the question proposed to him carefully. Unblinkingly.

It was two in the morning on a sleepless night amid a quiet week, and after a short prayer session and paperwork, an odd sense of melancholy had begun to creep in.

The rare moments of peace brought with them clarity to his thoughts that weren’t focused on missions, briefings and strategic discussions, and that clarity was, at times, a double-edged sword.

“Back when we used to meet each other at Maccadam’s every weekend, he would bring along this notebook filled with poetry and paragraphs of his thoughts about the state of the world. It wasn’t something he openly shared—miners wrote books yes, but mostly concerning their line of work,” Optimus finally spoke up after almost ten minutes of deliberating what he was going to say, and whether he should say it.

“On the day he left the Newham police station after being arrested for suspicion of inciting a riot, after he was brutalized by a rogue guard I had hired a few months ago... I found it.”

He had left the oak desk that was groaning under a stack of files, folders and documents that only increased as the days passed, long strides taking him to the bookshelf at the end of the room where the works of Thomas Aquinas were nestled carefully next to Imam Al-Bukhari’s. One book, much smaller than the rest, seemed out of place there however, and this was the one he pulled out.

“On the sidewalk.”

It was a woebegone-looking notebook, weathered by time with the edges of some pages crimped up by water damage, though it was clear that care had been taken to preserve it: The covers were wrapped in plastic, and not a single silverfish was to be seen scuttling away as Optimus opened it only to show the initials ‘M.T’ scribbled at the lower right corner of the first page.

“I thought he had dropped it and wanted to give it back to him. And with it, I wanted to apologize for everything—for not being there when it happened, for it happening in my station under my jurisdiction, for failing the promise I made to him twenty-eight years ago that I wanted to join law enforcement to protect everyone, not just those the system decided deserved protection—-but by the time I arrived at the mining community he worked at… they told me he’d been sent to Messatine.”

He closed the book before any demand for more of its contents could arise. They weren’t his to divulge.

“So I held on to this notebook for the better part of a decade. I memorized the words——some of them, I recited in front of the Senate the day I decided I was done being a part of their system. I hoped he would come home one day so I could return it to him in person. And he did!”

There was the ghost of a smile that crossed his features, which quickly shifted to a perplexed frown.

“But when I tried to give him back what was his, he told me to keep it or burn it—-he didn’t care for it any more. No point dwelling in the past, especially one he had grown beyond, was what he said. I took his words at face value back then… but when I think about it now? I wonder if it wasn’t him trying to bury what remained of the person he was before the Pits, before Messatine, before the night at my station. Before everything.”

The guilt was heavy in his tone as he sank down to the floor and leaned against the bookshelf; broad shoulders sagging under the weight of an invisible mantle and eyes glazed over in a thousand-yard stare for a moment.

“Do I want to reconcile our differences? Yes. More than anything. Because the boy I traded books with, the friend I shared a table with, and the man who wrote these words that opened my eyes ? I believe that man is still alive and that man is worth saving.”

He closed his own eyes for a moment and when they opened once more, the focus in his gaze seemed to have returned.

“Do I think it will happen? InsyaAllah, perhaps, but I would not stake the world on that reconciliation.”

___________________________________________________

The temperature in the empty war room felt like it had dropped several degrees as the Decepticon leader glared at the seeming-innocuous question as though it had come for his neck personally. Adam’s apple bobbing in a rare show of uncertainty and trepidation, he closed his eyes, steepled his fingers and exhaled harshly.

“I don’t… hate the man, if that is where the trajectory of your question is heading. He was my best friend, one of the few I would have trusted with my life. More heart than sense, foolish and naive and stubborn, but kind. To a fault,” Megatron uttered after a few minutes, his lips a thin and terse line as he thought about the matter a little deeper.

Another spell of silence fell upon the hall as he stood up and muttered an annoyed ‘tch’ at the part of him that saw it fit to indulge the inquiry at all before picking out a book from the glass-cased shelf in the back of the room.

“That is not to say the urge doesn’t arise from time to time. But every time that voice whispers venom and spite whenever I hear his name? I remember this.”

It landed on his paperwork with a dull thump; a hard-cover edition of ‘Umar Ibn Al-Khattab: His life and times’ which was, from first glance, well-kept save some light tatters on the book jacket.

A closer look at the book jacket however would reveal several brown specks which resembled dried blood.

“Thirty-two years ago, the sheltered child of a professor and a journalist threw this book over the fence dividing redlined districts to a nobody who simply voiced a fascination for what he was reading. Without prompt. ‘It’s a gift’ he said. A gift for someone he had spoken to for all of ten minutes. A gift for a new friend.”

The warlord who was greying earlier than most sank back into his seat with his hands behind his head and stared at the ceiling overhead. 

“The nobody cherished it for approximately two days before the census team came by for an unannounced inspection, and lo behold they did find it, and the nobody was beaten within an inch of his life for the crime of possessing a book which wasn’t ‘approved’ for his class, and therefore could not belong to him.”

The scoffing disdain in his voice as he spoke of the abuse was replaced with a fierceness that would have made anyone listening take a step back, more so that his glare felt like it could burn right through the screen as he returned his attention to the person on the other end.

“But it did. Because it was a gift from a friend. And when that nobody became a rebel, and eventually a warlord who tore down the doors to the government’s archives for ‘Persons Of Interest’? He bled everybody in that basement like the stuck pigs  they were until he found that little box with his name written on it, found this inside it, and then burned everything else to the ground.”

That would explain the drying blood on the cover of the book that he was now holding up, at the very least.

“This, and the books that were to come which that kind and foolish boy would toss over the fence, was when I realized how broken the system truly was, that I had to rely on this subterfuge for want of a better education. This was when I realized I wanted more than to live and die in the mines as my barcode dictated.”

The mounting anger in his tone seemed to suddenly cut off he opened his mouth only to close it swiftly, and when his tongue could finally form words again, they were noticeably softer than before.

“This was also when I realized that perhaps, I wasn’t alone in my outrage, in my boyhood fantasies for a better world. No one told that meddling idiot to make my fight his as well, but at eight-years-old, he decided he was going to do something about it to help me because he wanted to. And it’s hard to hate that earnestness.”

He closed his eyes for a moment before standing up with his hands clasped behind him, features obscured as he faced the wall with shoulders squared.

“Reconciliations are not out of the question. Truth be told, I do desire it. Whatever my past as a gladiator might have impressed upon you, believe me, I don’t enjoy the prospects of senselessy killing Autobots I have fought alongside for many years, back when we worked side by side against our common enemy. Terrible waste of genuinely good if not exceedingly foolish people, I would think.”

A curt professionalism had crept in now as he turned around and stroked his beard thoughtfully at the notion.

“However the matter should only be discussed after our movement’s primary objective has been achieved, and not a moment before. And if he and his merry men keep being an obstacle in my path?”

He smirked coldly.

“I can’t promise that the consequences won’t be dire.”

[murderballadeer]

Joan Baez - Farewell, Angelina

farewell, angelina: just a table standing empty by the edge of the sea/means farewell, angelina, the sky is trembling, and i must leave

daddy, you been on my mind: when you wake up in the morning, baby, look inside your mirror/oh, you know i won't be next to you, you know i won't be near/i'd just be curious to know if you can see yourself as clear

it's all over now, baby blue: the highway is for gamblers, better use your sense/take what you have gathered from coincidence

the wild mountain thyme: i will build my love a tower by yon pure and crystal fountain/yes, and on it i will lay all the flowers of the mountain

ranger's command: she said she'd go with me to the cold round-up/and drink that hard liquor from a cold, bitter cup

colours: green is the colour of the sparkling corn/in the morning when we rise

satisfied mind: money can't buy back your youth when you're old/or a friend when you're lonely, or love that's grown cold

the river in the pines: but early in the autumn, when the fruit is in the wine/i'll return to you my darling, from the river in the pines

pauvre ruteboeuf: pauvre sens et pauvre mémoire/m'a dieu donné, le roi de gloire

sag mir wo die blumen sind: (skipping this one bc i don't speak german)

a hard rain's a-gonna fall: i heard one hundred drummers whose hands were a-blazing/i heard ten thousand whispering and nobody listening

one too many mornings: and the silent nights will shatter from the sounds inside my mind/i'm one too many mornings and a thousand miles behind

rock salt and nails: if the ladies were blackbirds, if the ladies were thrushes/i'd lie there for hours in the cold chilly marshes

the water is wide: there is a ship, that sails the sea, she's loaded deep as deep can be/but not so deep as the love i'm in, i know not how i'll sink or swim