#a spud a day keeps the sadness away

[m34gs]

Spud: mew

Me: no we are not opening the window, it is cold outside

Spud: mewewew

Me: it is minus thirty Celcius. No.

Spud: Meewwwwwwwowwwowwww

Me: I do not care, that window is staying shut

Spud: MEEEEEEEEEEEEWWWWWWWW *drapes self dramatically across scratching post like a distressed damsel on a luxurious settee*

Me: fine *slides the frost covered window open*

Spud: *sniffs the cold air*

Spud: *turns and gives me an offended look*

Me: I DONT CONTROL THE WEATHER DONT LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT

My evening thus far

[cryptidghostgirl]

Lovely (Lucifer x Reader)

Pairing: Lucifer x Reader

Description: Lucifer had heard rumor of the demon with the ability to alter people's memories. Y/n was a marvel and he had her wrapped right around his pinky.

Warnings: Same angst, new target.

Word Count: 1,631

Master Lists:

Master Lists 

Hazbin Hotel Master List

A/N This fic is inspired by Spud Cannon's song Lovely. Also don't mind me and my silly little Latin obsessed brain (Lucifer translates to light bringer and is a combination of the latin verb ferre, to bring, and lux, light. I fuck around with that in this.)

That was what had drawn her to him first: the elegance. Lucifer was a graceful man, a beautiful man, a terribly sad person. In retrospect, that should have been Y/n's sign to take a step back but, it is always so difficult to find the right path in the moment. He had seemed so utterly heartbroken, because, as she now knew, he was so utterly heartbroken, and Y/n had thought: maybe I can help?

Her motivations had just been that at first, helping. It wasn't her fault that he was charming and funny and did things that made her want to be more than friends with him with such alarming regularity that it felt like her life was the worst rollercoaster at an amusement park. The one with eight billion sharp turns and uncomfortable seats that left rider's tailbones bruised. It was almost too much to bear.

Lucifer had heard rumors of the demon who had been gifted with the ability to alter people's memories. It had never been gossip that had interested him much until Lilith had left. Suddenly, his mind had felt like a curse. In the throws of despair, he had looked for her, hunted her down. It hadn't take long, he was Lucifer after all. When he was the one asking the questions, few dared to defy.

The shop was a hole in the wall, drenched in the smell of incense and covered in crystals and other odd objects of curiosity. Lucifer could've sworn he recognized the imp horns on the wall but, ignored it. He was there for a reason and asking questions like that were not the path to his end goal.

The demon herself, the famed mystery, was statuesque. She had sat her table in the back of the shop, draped in jewelry made of bones and gold. She had gifted him the first session free of charge.

In order to keep the pain at bay, Lucifer had been required to come to her shop at least once a month. Y/n was a comfort to him, he associated her with the feeling of relief. The two became fast friends.

"Light bringer." she would beckon him in with a smile, "Still counting those forget-me-nots?"

She spoke to him in Latin, in his first eternal language. She weaved images in the air with the smoke from her fires. She was amazing, a miracle worker. Lucifer was grateful for her, for her skill.

Y/n knew the truth behind it. She tried to ignore it, tried to still her raging heart. She knew it was doomed, had seen with her own eyes the way he was still so in love with someone else. Still, when he had asked her on that first date, a year into them knowing one another, she hadn't been able to bring herself to refuse. He had been so sweet, so earnest, so cheesy. He had asked her to be his and she had told him the truth: she already was.

It was a constant state of denial, one big, overwhelming lie she convinced herself was true. In the beginning, Lucifer had been a doting partner. He surprised her with flowers, he always tried to make her smile. It had all stopped the day she had told him she couldn't use her gift on him anymore.

"Why not?" he has asked, alarmed.

"Because, Ferende Lucem (man bringing light), it's not healthy. I can't make things go away forever, just hide them. You still need to deal with them eventually."

Y/n had thought it was time, had figured that two years of dating and three years of knowing one another would be enough. She had been wrong. Lucifer had ceased in his affections in all but name. No longer was she whisked away to the palace, no longer did she wake to one of his creations on her bedside table.

After about a month, she had decided to take things into her own hands. She refused to recede into the gaps he was creating, refused to just let this all go. Y/n loved him, truly. She wouldn't let the love die without a fight.

The palace guards knew her well, had let her in without question. After some searching, Y/n had found Lucifer locked away in his office. The place smelled of despair. He didn't turn from his empty desk at the sound of the door opening.

"Light Bringer." Y/n hummed softly, rapping a knuckle on the already open door, "Counting your forget-me-not's?"

She hadn't asked him that in years, not since before they had gotten together. He lifted his head from his hands, looking over his shoulder just the slightest bit.

"Malefica (witch)." he replied, his voice low and hollow.

Y/n smiled softly at the pet name and entered the room, letting the door stand open in her wake. She approached him, wrapping her arms around his tired shoulders and pressing a soft kiss to the top of his head.

"Please." Lucifer's voice cracked, "Please take them from me. It's too much, they're too heavy."

Y/n didn't reply, simply nestling her chin into his hair.

"Y/n, please."

"You know I can't do that." she sighed, "It's not healthy."

"This is what is not healthy."

Y/n let go of him and turned his chair so they faced one another. She kneeled down on the ground before him, clasping his hands in her own. His eyes were ringed with red. In that moment, they weren't a fallen angel and a demon, they were just two people. Two people in love and two people housing broken hearts they lied to themselves to stitch back together.

"Lucifer." her eyes searched his face.

It was rare she called him by his true name. The gravity of the moment clung to their skin.

"Lucifer, what am I to you?"

He looked away. Y/n sighed, her heart cracking straight down the middle within the confines of her chest.

"Can I..." she cleared her throat, steeling her nerves, "Am I ever going to be what you're looking for?"

Lucifer's eyes snapped back to Y/n.

"You are what I'm looking for." he insisted, taking his trembling hands from hers and cupping them gently around her face, "You, Y/n, are my sweet little magician, my salve."

"My magic is, you mean."

Lucifer had always been a terrible liar. It was one of the things Y/n loved about him, the way the truth bubbled to the surface of his being. Right now, she wished he could be the best liar on the planet, the best in all of Hell. Right now, she wished she could've been born blind.

Y/n got to her feet, Lucifer's hands hanging in the air where they had held her last. There was no more running, no more hiding from the truth. This was the precipice, the breaking point, the fall.

"You're my salve." he repeated again, his voice soft and sounding like he was trying to convince himself of the fact as much as he was trying to get through to her.

"Don't lie to me." Y/n demanded, tears pressing behind her eyes, "Don't. Just... just don't."

Oh how she wished she could turn back time, set the clocks to zero.

"You never loved me, did you?"

The question hung unanswered in the air. Y/n had known it for a long time, had known it since the beginning to be perfectly honest but saying it out loud made it all the more real. She was dazed, spinning, out of control.

"You don't love me."

"I wish I could. I'm..."

Y/n scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest and holding back tears. She looked away.

"I'm sorry."

"I'll see myself out, I guess."

She hoped he'd call out for her, run after her into the hallway, ask if they could try again could start over. Of course Lucifer did no such thing.

For all the things she had helped her clients forget over the years, Y/n understood them even more now than she ever had before. It was complicated. Now she was going to have to reshape her life. If she ever saw him in the street, it would be her duty to pretend she didn't know him. The memories spawned the terror of potential futures, dreams where things worked out, where everything was okay. They sent her mind reeling.

She had known, all along she had feared the worst and feared confirmation of her knowledge. That was the worst part, it hadn't even been a surprise. It had simply been just that, a confirmation of the truth.

The world caved in around her as she walked home, houses and shops and people all blurring together into something undistinguished and undefinable.

Lovely, that's what he was. In all his misfortune, in all his despair, in all his grace. Lovely but oh god, oh god he didn't love her. Not the way she wanted him to. Not the way she loved him.

Y/n pulled the curtains shut to her little shop, moving methodically and without thought. She sat down at the table in the back, before the pot of incense. She lit it.

Not once in all her years had she ever tried to do use her magic on herself. It seemed like a line in the sand, something utterly forbidden. Y/n shut her eyes.

When she reopened them, the world felt different. Time had passed, she could tell it had but her mind refused to give shape to the years.

"So this is what it must feel like." she mumbled aloud, noticing the remnants of her ritual spread out on the table before her, "I wonder what happened."

[yoki-doki-then]

FFXIV Write 2024 - S T A M P

My Dearest Prince,

Attached to this private letter is, of course, the usual veneer of business reports. I don't think they're of any use. During times of crisis -- or at 'the end of the world' as your father says -- I don't think people will want to purchase fine garments. Well, maybe you would.

And perhaps I should as well? Perhaps if every life on the world is going to be snuffed out, who's to be blamed for enjoying a vice? It's the time to break out the cigars, pour wine, go to a theatre, eat endless cake. I think there's more fulfilling things than such, but life is all about those little joys we pluck away from base survival, no?

What would I do if I believed in the end of days?

I would to ease you from your thorny garden and cherish you as a singular. The moment might sting, but you'd be my treasure. I would lavish you with water and make sure you spend every day kissed by the sun, and I'd sing little stories at night. As the sky winks its final farewell, I would adore you. I would brush my finger across your stem to feel that pulse of life. I would breathe against your petals, and I would take in your everything to be whisked away to our dream.

It's good to have a fantasy to keep you driven, no? I think my sister-in-law's therapist would agree with that. I finally got to meet him recently during work at the tea house. Well -- he spoke at me for a moment. Tall. Mildly aloof. A fine cut for fashion. Long fuzzy ears that fold down over his temples. Viera, obviously. He looks sad, but in a taunting way that says, "you can't make me happy, but I want to see you try". It's attractive, for certain. I think he knows it.

I hope he makes her happy.

Speaking of happiness, it's been hard to convince her to retreat to your family... or I suppose my family's island? I'll never get used to that. I do sort of dread having to be so secretive about us when it comes to your father. Thankfully, I suppose, your mother was quick to catch on to all of this. Menphina's blessed her with your first half-sister and her uncanny ability to sus out any romantic intentions. But could we not be fully public about this? Even something as subtle as wear our bands together for him to notice. I quite like having a job, it keeps my hands busy, and I suspect I'd be doing the same work regardless of station (and regardless of your protests, you silly spud). So I don't mind keeping to the role of maid for as long as we need. But please, think about it? It's the secrecy that eats me.

May we be in one another's company again soon. I know we look up at the same stars, but I want to gaze at them alongside you.

Eternally Yours,

Anonymous Person Who Frankly Wonders Why She Still Needs Anonymity When Your Father Hasn't Looked At A Business Package In Years

P.S. Nanamo ul Namo to bottom-right. I never was great at Plus rules, and I feel weird putting her there, but I think I get a nice chain off that? Please check for me. Apologies, darling, sometimes the random Chaos pull works out for someone else.

[jgmartin]

THE KNIFE

This story begins in a village. 

It's a little thing that sits by a river, with houses of wood and wicker, and is rarely subject to much excitement. An old woman lives there. She has a name, but I do not know it, and perhaps that is for the best, for her tale is one of grave misfortune. 

She leads an empty life, which is to say she is neither happy nor sad. Her days are spent tending to her garden, while her evenings are lost to her dreams. She ponders about other lifetimes and other destinies, and whether there is some great magic out there that can extinguish her apathy and ignite her wonder. 

Her cottage is tucked neatly next to the river, and it is surrounded by a towering wall of stone and ivy. Her husband built the wall before the plague claimed him, hoping it would keep away looters and thieves. Sometimes when she looks at it, she thinks of him, but the memory dies a little more each time she does, so instead she focuses on the soil. 

Every night she prepares supper by chopping the day’s harvest into a stew. One terrible evening, her rusty knife snaps cleanly in two. Unable to finish preparing her meal, she reluctantly sets out through her iron gate to visit the blacksmith in town. 

When she arrives, a young man shows her an array of finely forged knives. Most are well beyond what she can afford, as all she has is an old necklace and a small purse of coins.

The young man tells her not to worry. I have a knife, he says, more affordable than any you’ve seen. He leads her into his forge, where a blade glimmers in the red light of the furnace. Its steel is a faded blue, and upon its face is an inscription that reads A Promise to Keep. 

How much? she asks.

It is yours for a promise, the blacksmith replies. No more, and no less. All you must do is swear that you'll use it each day. Such a fine blade demands it. 

A peculiar bargain, she thinks. She has little else to offer, however, and promises are cheap. She agrees. I’ll take that knife, she says.

Upon her return, she resumes preparing her stew. She slices into a potato, and it’s almost as though the spud is made of nothing but air. The knife slips through it by the force of its weight alone. The woman is astonished. How satisfying, she thinks to herself. She cuts a carrot next, and then a tomato and then finally an onion.

When she’s finished, she’s smiling. What a lovely knife.

The next day she can hardly wait to start on her stew. She spends long hours walking through her garden, selecting the sturdiest vegetables she can find. This time, she thinks, I’ll see just how sharp that knife is. When she sets to cutting, the blade glides through them like they were hardly even there. 

Again, the feeling of wonder and satisfaction returns. It’s the first time in years she’s felt much of anything, and she resolves to use the knife every chance she gets. Potatoes. Carrots. Lettuce. Tomatoes. None are safe from the edge of her blade. Each time one’s sliced, diced, or chopped, she feels the emptiness inside of her shrink. 

Soon though, the feeling dulls. 

The emptiness begins to lurch back, extinguishing the embers of joy that once smouldered within. She grows depressed. Desperate for her spark, she harvests every vegetable in the garden, mincing them into tiny cubes. And it helps, at first. Then, she finds each cut less satisfying than the last.

The colors of her life begin to wash away, and now not even the knife can bring them back. That evening, she goes to bed and wishes that the plague had never spared her— she wishes that it killed her too, instead of simply ending her life. 

_____________________

The woman stirs, but the sun has not yet risen. 

How strange, she thinks. Usually, I sleep until dawn. She peers out her window and sees little more than darkness, the great walls surrounding her cottage blotting out the moon.

Then, there comes a clatter.

She narrows her eyes. The sound, she realizes, is coming from high upon the walls. Clang. Clang. She studies the darkness, searching for the source of the noise, and then she spots something peculiar: two children atop the wall, with a hook fashioned onto a rope.

She hears their voices. 

Hurry up and get down, the boy says. I’m hungry!

We’re all hungry! the girl hisses back. 

There’s movement on the wall. Clang. The steel hook nestles itself into the stone, and then children clamber down the rope toward the garden. The woman watches them as they descend. Two silhouettes in the night. Invaders. Thieves. 

What gives? the boy says as he reaches the ground. Where's all the vegetables?

There’s no way she ate 'em all, the girl replies. There were plenty here yesterday!

The dark shapes steal through her garden, searching desperately for a harvest that isn’t theirs to reap. They bicker relentlessly. One proposes that they should leave, while the other says they ought to knock on the door and at least ask for a cabbage. 

In their distraction though, they don’t notice the old woman in the window, slinking away toward the kitchen. They don’t know that she lives an empty life. Or that she made a promise to keep. 

Most importantly, they don’t realize there’s nothing left in the garden but them.

[obscure-song-tournament]

ROUND TWO !!!!

A

Keep Away - Isane Driver VS. Pulp Friction - Fool Heavy

Scatterbrain - Casual Tees VS. Sad Hit Song- V is for Villians

Patches - Jawbreaker Reunion VS. Animal Rites - John Congleton & The Nighty Nites

New Dance - DEERPEOPLE VS. Maple Leaf Etc - Maxshh

B

Mama - Eudora June VS. The Helper - Giannah Noelle

Victim of a Siren - Seraph Siege VS. There's a Darkness (but There's also a Light) - The Wild VS. Ray - Dylans

Alive - GON VS. You are Loved - David Lamotte TIE

Where U Goin? - Half in the Bag VS. For Me - Dearlie

C

The Hidden Word - Noe Venable VS. Echo in the Hills - Carrie Elkin VS. YOUR GALAXY - ROZLYN PELL

Juliet and Juliet -Kactus Kid VS. Low Rent Truman Show - Marc with a C

The Danger - Patricia Wallinga VS. Call Me Captain - Emrys Layne (@callmecapt) VS. Deep Blue - Grapefruit

D

PIANO GAMES - Hazma Notes VS. Worst in the World - Uncle Outrage

Cheese (original mix) -Cheese VS. Hokutoshichisei no Ichiya- Akiko lkuina

There'll be Someone at My Funeral Who Doesn’t Want to Be There - Sammy J VS. The Crayon Song - Class Of 3000

TECVM CIRCVMAMBVLARE NOLO - John Linnel VS. Imagination - Niel innes VS. Me and Nikolai - Pale Young Gentlemen

E

Eat Your Heart Out, Sigmund Freud - Mollie Maxwell VS. Don't Want You -Carpark

Runaways - Big Tree VS. 10,000 Days - OK Glass

Hurricane - My Cat Umi VS. Rotten - Missouri Surf Club

Born to it - Freefonix VS. last week/month/year - rain

F

Pointillize - Raccoon Fink VS. execute - ninty

Better Red Than Dead - KELChip VS. Ego -Powderpaint

... - subeteanatanoseidesu VS. Nighttime (I fall asleep) - Sam X

GOTH BITCH DUB - 621 gecs VS. To.Get.Her - Nixis

G

Dusk and Dawn - Das Fi VS. Between You and Me - Clementine Werchola

Monmon Fanmoran - Mochitsune VS. Can Graze the Roof Bring you Back to Childhood? - Anomaly Vector TIE

Memories - Jens East (Ft. Lotta Rasva) VS. Moongrains with Lyrics feat. Gumi A - Anonaly Vector VS. Ode to Janey Lou- FOE

The Dreaming- Marquis of Vaudevill VS. Best Friend - Taitoki

H

Rusalka and The Shepherd Girl - The Forgetmenauts VS. Four Tall Trees - Leslie Fish

Captain Ward - Tempest VS. The Trials Of Oscar Wilde - Alan John

Winter's Tooth - Alexander James Adam VS. He of Sidhe - Alexander James Adam

Labyrinth - Madeline S VS. The Phoenix - Julia Ecklar

I

Liar and the Hound - Beneath Eden VS. Bodysuit -FlooringCo

Pause Button - Particle Devotion VS. On a Walk - Fort Womb VS. Death is a Girl - Skippocalyptic

52 Pickup - Z. VS. 山谷澗 - Mysterain小雨樂隊 VS. Pub Money - Bag of Cans

J

Never be Famous - Hussalonia VS. 613 - FC the kid VS. Lhasa - Shapaley

Collide - Harold J VS. We Made it - JAMIEvx VS. 412 (coffin built for two) - Mollie Maxwell

Unretractable Fact - Second Person VS. SCARY* - EXIT ONLY

Preserve - PETROLEUM! GENDERLOSS VS. No Proposals - Physical Plant

K

Maneater- Blue Eyed Blondes VS. la somnambule - La Femme Pendu

Center Stage - Howard Martin VS. Gears of the Atom Man - Angels of Liberty TIE

Wake Up Girl - Skeeter Truck VS. Dark Rip - Teen Girl Scientist Monthly

Trust Me - Time Crash VS. Not Yet - Leo and the Little Things

L

Grace - Raelle VS. Animal- Xisco Feijoó

Hyperphantasia - Fearful Earful VS. Tonight Eternity Alone - Rene Clause

Cardigan Sweater - Jasmine Kennedy VS. Milá má - Nahore VS. Side A -Alohaha

The Binding Of isaac - Schmekel VS. Slip! - Bright Orange

M

Boy who Blocked the Sun - Demi the Daredevil VS. Rainy Day Georgia - Jayne Trimble VS. Burn it Down with Math - Deuce of Gears

Haircut Song - Shannon Moser VS. Reunion - Brent Spiner & Maude Maggart

Small Parts of Something Much Larger - Suns VS. Sunshine and Lollipops 2020 - Sad Snack

Say What You Want - Growth Spurt VS. Mirëmëngies - Edona Vatoc

N

Have You Ever Seen a Duck, Like, in Real Life? - Lisa the Beauty Queen VS. Housekeeper- Faun Fables

Caroline - Espers VS. Tales of the Phantom Ship - Nathan Landis Funk

Lotus eaters - Jessica Law VS. Raising the Dead! - Jessica Law VS. Autism Murder Memorial - Fit to Work

Blow Up the Moon - Feel Spectres VS. All For Me Grog! - Spud Bugs

O

Reclaim - Porch Cat VS. Orpheus on Ice - The Small Calamities VS. Violin Concerto in the Key of Crippling Regret - The Small Calamities

Homme Offer Knee - Ben Below VS. Hold My Heart - The Dune Sea

Each Time She Calls - Jessie Gosling VS. flexible guy - clown residue

Howard - Demo- Mother Aiden VS. Blooming Strangely - Ginger & Pear

P

恐竜あげみざわ★ - Kyouruu Friends VS. 星の旅人- Sayaka Senbong & Yumiri Hanamori

The End of the World - Fred Deakin VS. 運命は※ Love You - チームDEKAI

Ultimate Performance of Abandoned Magic Boxes ~ Racks of Junk - KR. Palto47 VS. 薔薇は美しく散る x 輪舞 revolution - okurigi66

297回の試行 - Image44 VS. They'll Make a Monster Out of You - Freefonix

[we-are-all-of-legend-now]

Fictober23 Day 2: Don't Worry, I Got You

Fandom: American Dragon Jake Long

Pairings/Characters: Jake/Rose

Rating: T

Warnings: suicide/suicide attempt; drug overdose; swearing

You can read under the cut or click here to read it on fanfiction

Dear Jake,

By the time you get this text, I’ll probably dead. I’ll hopefully be dead. I know it’s really shitty of me to do this over a text but if I wrote a note, you’d probably never see it. And I need you to see this. I need you to know everything about everything and I want you to understand. Right now, I know you’re confused and you’re thinking that you’re starting to get scared and that you’re starting to think about coming to get me and that you don’t have the patience to understand. That’s okay. I’m past saving.

My name is Rose. It’s not Huntsgirl. I know you know this and it’s one of the things that I first loved about you. You didn’t think of us as the same person. You knew who I truly was and who I truly wanted to be and that was the greatest gift you could have ever given. We were just two people in love. If it weren’t for the circumstances of fate, we’d still just be two people in love. We’d probably die of old age as just two people in love. We’re only seventeen but I think we’d grow old together. That’s some honesty that will probably hurt for a while but I hope you can find the comfort in it. Someday. I know you loved me as much as I loved you. At least as much. And I think I love you more than anyone’s ever loved anything before.

You’re going to want a reason. You’re going to want to understand. You’re going to think you could have stopped it or changed it or you’re going to find a way to blame yourself for it. You’re always the hero, Jake, and you were my hero for as long as I’ve known you. Don’t put this on your shoulders. This is the way that is best for me. You’re not going to agree because you’re stubborn and you want things that you can’t have. I want things I can’t have too. But the difference is, you get to move on and I am stuck in hell. I am bonded to hell. I cannot leave hell. I can never dream of being free. This is all I have. This is my only way. You tried. Fu tried. Lao Shi tried. Haley tried. Veronica tried. Sara and Kara tried. Trixie tried. Spud tried. You even blackmailed Nigel into trying. The curse of the Aztec skulls is unbreakable. Even if that’s not true, my heart and my soul are breakable and I can’t exist like this any longer. As far as I know, there’s not a single hope for a cure, a counter-spell, or a breath of relief. If someday this turns out not to be true, please don’t feel bad. I go knowing that my circumstances *could* change but I have no evidence of it. This is all I have left.

I think about homecoming all the time. How if we were faster, smarter, stronger we might have wished the whole Huntsclan away with those skulls. It would have been wonderful because then we could have just been together. I know you have the same regrets. We talk about it all the time, in the seconds I can get away, in the moments where my hands touch yours in the middle of the fight, in the dreams we’ve built in our heads. They’re just for our heads. It’s never going to be real. Not the running away or the home together or the babies. It’s over. I’m sorry I’m making you sad with all this ranting but I need you to accept that it’s over. By the time you read this, my life – and I guess our life – is over. Yours is not. Live where I can’t, love how I wasn’t able to. Don’t live your life subject to a ghost, okay?

I don’t know what else to say. I feel I’ve talked myself in circles. And, yet, I want to keep talking to you. It seems counter productive to you, I’m sure. I can hear you now “Rose, if you want to keep talking to me, you’d be alive!”. That’s still missing the point. It’s not about you. I love you. If I knew of a way to wish the world away and just have you and me curled around each other like snakes in a warm bed while the rain poured outside, I would choose that option. Always and forever, without question. We don’t have that and I need to be free and you need to be free.

I love you, I love you, I love you.

Live for me.

Love,

Rose

PS Don’t come find me. Send someone else. I don’t want you to see.

(-.-)

                By the time Jake Long woke up at 6:30 AM for school, the text on his phone screen was already an hour old.

                That fact didn’t stop him from screaming, from scrambling out his bedroom window with no mind to the fact that his parents didn’t know where he was going and he was only wearing boxer shorts. None of it mattered because if there was a chance that Rose was still alive, Jake had to move and he had to move now. He knew where she was; he didn’t even have to think about it. He transformed into a dragon mid-drop not caring if a single one of the neighbours noticed what was going on. He winged his way toward the one place that Rose swore she would never go back to: the site of Homecoming. The Huntsclan and the dragons had been in a fight back then, trying to gain control of the Aztec skulls, which granted wishes but only once and only when they were together at a specific time and a specific place. Jake had been so close to winning; Rose had been so close to winning. The Huntsclan had scooped it all out from under them.

                Jake had failed her then. He wasn’t going to fail her now.

                Jake hit the rooftop in a dead run, his cell phone to his ear, 911 already on the line as he rattled off the address. God, how could twenty feet feel so far?

                “It’s an overdose,” Jake blurted to the operator. “She’s got a heartbeat!”

                Rose looked like a wax person or a mannequin, lying on her back in pink jeans and a white sweater, her hair long and spread out around her head like a halo. The exact opposite of how the Huntsgirl would look.

                Jake barely spared a moment to look at her. He grabbed at one of the pill bottles, reading the label off to the 911 operator before he turned Rose onto her side, praying that she vomited and that there wasn’t so much in her system that she was going to die. Jake let the phone drop when he heard the sirens in the distance, transforming from a dragon into a skinny boy in boxer shorts.

                “Don’t worry, baby,” he whispered to Rose. “I got you. I know what you were thinking. I know why you thought it but I got you. You’re safe. I love you too and I’m going to keep you safe, okay? Believe that. Never stop believing that. This isn’t the way!”

                It went against every instinct that Jake had but when the EMTs appeared on the roof, he stepped away from Rose. He let them do their job.

                He prayed that today their job was saving her life.

(-.-)

                “Get out.”

                “Rose –”

                “GET THE FUCK OUT!”

                Maybe if she got loud enough, nurses would come and remove him. The nurses that were actually Huntsclan members in disguise in their day jobs. She was an asset and not just anyone was allowed access to her.

                Asset.

                Not a person, not a loved one. Just a thing to be bought and traded and treated however someone else chose. Rose had one act of agency left in the life of slavery the Aztec skulls had sentenced her to. One true moment. Not stolen seconds with Jake where she was in too much pain to appreciate it. Real, true, agency. Her death. That had been stolen from her. By the one person that she trusted the most. The one person who was supposed to understand her.

                Jake stared at her helplessly and it made Rose want to kill him. She wasn’t supposed to feel this way and she knew it. She loved Jake, more than anything but, now, she could feel something bigger, building in her breastbone. Resentment.

                “I did it because I love you.”

                “You did it for you,” she spat. “If you loved me, I’d be ashes in the wind by now. No. You chose yourself this time and I hate you for it.”

                “We love each other,” Jake said with the conviction of someone who knew he was right. He stepped closer to her hospital bed. “You don’t hate me.”

                “It’s a thin line between love and hate.” Rose snarled the familiar line. “You’ve destroyed me.”

                “I saved you! Because I love you and I want you to live!”

                “Want,” Rose said blandly. “I needed to die.”

                “Rose, please.” Jake touched her hand and Rose wanted, so badly, to give in. If they had any other life, she would have. “I love you.”

                Rose withdrew her hand from his. “Next time we meet, I will fight to the death. I hope you do the same.”

                “Rose, please,” Jake begged, staring into her eyes.

                “From now on,” she declared, “we are sworn enemies. The way they wanted us to be all along.”

                Jake looked away first. Jake walked away first.

                Rose looked forward to making him pay for his sins.

[sinceileftyoublog]

Lankum Album Review: False Lankum

(Rough Trade)

BY JORDAN MAINZER

Lankum are a true progressive folk band, exploring the genre’s crossover appeal. Yet, the Irish quartet don’t make accessible music, necessarily; rather, they find common themes among tales of heartbreak, murder, oppression, and the terrible things the human race is capable of, diving headfirst into the darkness of old stories and applying it to new worlds. Produced by John “Spud” Murphy, the band’s latest album False Lankum is far and away their most ambitious and best, as horrific at times as it is beautiful. It begins with “Go Dig My Grave”, a standard tale of lovelorn suicide and its resulting note with burial instructions, that’s seen versions by everyone from Jean Ritchie and Doc Watson to Lambchop. It starts with singer Radie Peat, a capella, an uneasy shrillness in the weariness of her voice and the sharp tones of the guitar stabs. Eventually, the piercing drones and stomping percussion--meant to invoke the Irish process of keening--emulate the never-ending strikes of shovels in the ground during a burial. It’s straight out of an Ari Aster film.

False Lankum take traditional Irish music and put it up against a mirror, the inherent doom of the song’s themes staring right back at it in the face. “Master Crowley’s” is an instrumental fiddle reel that morphs into something truly sinister and dangerous, woozy concertinas and string instruments squeaking and growling like rabid, out-of-breath animals. On “Lord Abore and Mary Flynn”, Cormac MacDiarmada’s pained singing carries the dark, sad jaunt about a mother who poisons her teenage son instead of allowing him to choose his own love. Epic closer “The Turn”, one of two Daragh Lynch originals, sees the vocal harmonies in lower octaves, the song structure alternating between ambient and a galloping, fatalistic chorus. “Turn, we’ll find better days / Burned to the ground / Mourn, it’s the only way / We’ll make a sound,” they sing, before the song ends with clattering drums and squealing drones, the true sound of mourning, indeed.

Of course, there’s beauty and triumph in the pain on False Lankum, like on Gordon Bok tune “Clear Away in the Morning”, where the abstractly doom-filled strings are nonetheless gentle in their delivery alongside whispered vocal harmonies. “Netta Perseus”, another original, sports muted harmonies and plucked guitars, rolling drums and synthesizers that take us into an abyss of sound. The harmonic, chanted “The New York Trader” is a sea shanty about sacrificing the life of a confessed murderer boat captain in order to calm the seas, immigrants coming ashore in “Amerikay” bloodied but alive, which is how you feel as the song thrashes about until its conclusion.

And then there’s centerpiece “Newcastle”, which has origins in the 17th century but, along with “Lord Abore and Mary Flynn”, has undeniable contemporary applications. The former could be sung from the perspective of the latter’s victim. “Why should I not love my love? / Why shouldn’t my love love me? / Why shouldn’t I not speed after her / Since love to all is free?” the band longingly ask on “Newcastle”, presenting the questions of freedoms and human agency as matter-of-fact, righteous parts of existence rather than something to be begged for. In telling these stories, Lankum keep folk alive and well, peeling back its layers to reveal raw wounds.

[moonlight-rider25]

Kitchen girl.

I’m new at this (so go easy) but let me know what you think! I’m honestly just really sad not to see more Uhtred Smut..   All feedback is appreciated! Sorry if there's typos! 

Uhtred x Reader, Uhtredsmut!

18y+ only! 

*Italics are thoughts*

Summary

You were a young servant girl blessed to have your firsts assignments for work in such a luxury place among the king. It didn't last long as most of the servants were replaced when Edward took over for his father. You think back to that day, you walked into the dining hall before the grand warrior and the king; how could you have known that in just a few short moments your life would change forever. 

As you turned the corner and placed the picture of water and cups on the table in front of him you noticed his smile beaming at you.  You realized he was staring at you and your every movement; like a fox watching and waiting to catch its prey. His crystal blue eyes tore like daggers right into your heart.  You almost dropped the tray while being entranced in the stranger's gaze.  

Your breath caught in your throat realizing such a handsome and insanely sexy man could be looking at you.  You placed the pitcher and cups upon the table with trembling hands, bowed slightly, and back away quietly from the table. The dashing stranger's eyes still fixated on you the entire time as you turned out the doorway of the dining hall, and backed yourself against the dark hallway wall to catching your breath.  Your chest and breasts heaved while taking in a air for the first time since his eyes locked with yours.  

After finally composing yourself, you made your way back down the hall to the kitchen to continue with preparations for the handsome stranger's meal.  You do your best to clear the thoughts from your mind as you grab potatoes from the basket in front of you.  

Who was he?  ..Looking at me with such lustful eyes?..

Dunking them in the pale of water.

..Does he know me?..

Drying them off hurriedly on your skirt.

..Surely I do not know him..

Grasping the handle of the sharp knife in one hand.  

..However, I would like to know him..

A damp uneven potato in the other.

..I bet he smells of pine..or fire..and fresh air..

Slicing the skin away from the misshapen oval.

..His hands; must be rough and calloused..

Placing it down on the cutting board.

..but his lips.. soft, warm, and supple..

Arranging the knife in the middle of the wobbly spud.

..His body caged around mine..

Pressing the sharp blade down against the hardcore until…

“Ahh, Christ!”  You shout.

The red begins to trickle down the board and stain the pale vegetable.  Ann, the head kitchen aid rushes over to inspect the damage you have caused.  

“What are you trying to do here girl?” She asks wrapping a dingy towel around the injured fingers. “Keep pressure and run down to Saori (the castle healer), she will mend you, but hurry back I need all hands on deck for caterings for the mid-day meal!” 

Your face is flustered as you realize the daydreaming of the strange dining hall man is to blame for your mishappening. You feel the slight sting of pain as you turn to exit the kitchen and hurry down to Saori. 

You turn corners and weave your way through the castle halls holding your hand tenderly to your center. The pain throbbing in the pierced fingers before you find yourself walking into what feels like a wall. You tumble back onto the ground shielding the injured hand before looking up, there's a hand extended out to you.  You hear a soft chuckle before a low 

“Well, what do we have here?” 

Your eyes shoot up to meet the icy blue orbs smiling back down at you. Good Lord, it’s him! 

He gingerly helps you to your feet brushing yourself off before standing square in front of him to take in those enchanting eyes and mesmerizing smile of his.  It's only then that you realize how much taller he is than yourself. His hands twice the size of your own, take yours in his to inspect the towel still wrapped around your cut fingers.  

“You are injured?” he asks softly with concern in his voice.  

He unwraps the towel concealing the red slices on your middle and ring fingers.  His hands are huge and calloused as you imagined, but also soft and nurturing as he touches you. 

“It is nothing, my lord.” You reply softly. “Just a small mishap..is all”  

You swallow hard peering back up at the incredible man before you. He smiles and gently wraps your hand back in the dingy towel.  

“Nonsense!  I have seen men with smaller gashes blubber like infants over injuries like this.” He laughs warmly as he speaks.  “Come, I will ensure you are tended to.”  

He turns and guides you gently by your good hand down the halls to Saori's chambers. His steps are slow so you may keep up with his long tall strides and you can smell the warm rustic scent of him as your turn corners guided by his hand.  You cannot help but breathe in the sweet aroma and blush at the sensations it sends to your core. 

You approach the small dark corners of the castle walls.  It is damp and the noises echo off the walls around you.  Both of you search around the room looking for any sign of Saori, and fail to find any clues of her whereabouts.  He turns to you with worry on his face.  

“I will be quite fine to wait for her return,” You say.

“Leave a fair lady like yourself alone in the mysterious darkness?” he speaks as he steps slowly towards you.  “I think not.” 

He places a light hand on your shoulder and gestures to the bench, presumably where most of Saori’s patients are to be treated.  You sit and watch the man shuffle around the ill-lit room, searching the many dark cabinets for supplies.  You can’t help but notice his nicely toned butt as he moves, and bite your bottom lip trying to hold back a blush.  

After a few moments, he returns to your side and sits down next to you.  He extends his hand out towards you and you hesitate;

“Thank you…lord…but please..” He cuts you off as you grasps for the words to speak to the incredible man.

“Uhtred” he replies warmly with a smile.

“..Uhtred” you repeat after him; smiling back finally knowing the name of the mystery man.  There is a long pause and you hesitantly offer your wounded hand over to him.  His touch is soft and warm, unlike anything you'd imagine from such a huge grand warrior. 

He gently unwraps the towel yet again inspecting the severity of the cuts.  He wipes away the fading stream of blood coming from the larger of the two cuts and you wince at the pain.  

“I’m sorry..this is the worst of it.” He assures you. 

He begins wrapping the bandages around your hand carefully. 

“Please, do tell me” He begins “How does such a beautiful girl as yourself come to have such a wound?” he asks smiling, but still looking down at your hand. 

“A foolish kitchen incident” You answer face reddening.  His eyes shoot up to meet yours and you cannot hold back the blush and smirk rising on your face.  

“That is good news..” he says smile widening “That means I do not have to rough up your husband for hurting such a fair creature.”  

Your eyes lock with his, your breath caught in your throat unable to produce words.  

This cannot be happening to me you think to yourself as the handsome Uhtred finishes wrapping your hand and fastens it in place. He takes his time to ensure it is secure and comfortable and you take your time admiring his stunning features; he has a deep large scar wrapped around his right eyebrow, that you can’t help but wonder what it is from.   His supple pink lips lined with dark soft facial hair. His jaw is strong and taunt, clean and smooth connecting his softly bearded chin down to a masculine thick neck.  You can see his veins protruding out from his skin when he turns his head just right.  You imagine reaching out to feel how soft and hot his skin must be, shaking the thought from your head when his broad rugged shoulders finally relax and he pulls away. 

“Satisfactory, yes?” he asks with a smirk. You look down to inspect the warrior's handiwork and imagine he must have had some practice from the looks of it.

“Yes, indeed.  Thank you, Uhtred.” you answer after a moment.  “I know not how to thank you for such generosity and kindness.”

“My pleasure to help such a beautiful lady” He interrupts you.  “I’ll take bandaging a gorgeous fair girl like yourself, over a smelly Dane, any day.” He laughs softly, setting his hand on your thigh gently. 

He lets his hand linger there for a moment reading the expression on your face.  You hold his gaze with your eyes and slowly lift your hand to rest against his leather-covered chest. You can feel the heat radiating off the man and have a hard time keeping your breathing even.  He leans his head in slowly towards yours.

“You have me in quite an unexplainable position my lady”  He whispers, now close enough you can feel his warm breath against your face. “The rumors to fill these halls if they saw the great Dane slayer here with such an innocent unwilling maiden such as yourself”.

“Who says I’m unwilling?” You quickly reply in a hushed breath; reaching up with your unwounded hand you grasp his cheek and pull it towards yours closing the gap between you two.  

His mouth is upon yours instantly, hungry, wet, and soft.  You moan against him as his tongue battles its way into your wanting mouth, his fingers softly exploring the front of your dress.  You lean against his firm hand and he laughs against you at your eagerness.  Kneading and pawing at your breasts while you gasp and pant against him, he slides his other hand down underneath your skirts.  His huge rough hand slides up between your soft thighs, surly he can feel the heat coming from your core. But instead, he breaks the kiss, leaving you shocked and caught off guard.

“Please forgive me...” He speaks in a breathless sigh.  “I do not know what has come over me.” He rests his tense forehead against yours, both of you still breathless. 

“I do not wish for you to stop.” You reply, staring deeply into the deep blue eyes looking back at you. 

Reaching up you wrap your arms around his strong neck, entangling your fingers into his thick dark locks.  He lifts you effortlessly taking you in his arms before pressing you firmly up against a nearby wall. You’re flattened between the cold bricks and his massive warm body.  He holds his gaze with you for a moment pressing himself to you. You can feel the large bulge in his pants pressed firmly against your waist and you both laugh quietly before his mouth again collides with yours. 

He grips at your waist with eager fingers squeezing mounds of flesh between his massive fingertips.  His mouth engulfs yours and devours your taste with each breath.  You weave your hands up the bottom of his shirts, taking your time stroking his hard warm abs and his giant chiseled chest beneath.

Your tongues dance around one another's when you feel his large course fingers begin to hike up the hems of your skirts.  This time he does not stop at your thighs. You feel his huge blunt fingertips brush lightly against the hot wetness between your legs. You tremble and moan at his touch while he laughs slightly against you, gently biting and pulling at your bottom lip as he does.  His fingers trace delicate paths between your aching wet core, you throw your head back and he begins kissing and sucking hungrily at your soft jaw and neck. 

You are sure to lose yourself with just the touches of this man at any moment when he stops abruptly. He places his hand firmly against your moaning mouth and you both go hushed as you hear footsteps approaching down the dark hall…  You’re sure you would cry out in agony if he was not already blocking your mouth.  He carefully but quickly releases his grip from you and you unlock yourselves from each other.  

Saori approaches from the doorway with a startled look on her face.

“Oh, thank you, Lord Unhtred so much for tending to my much-needed injury.” You did a delightful job bandaging me up…” You turn your direction to Saori, “Oh hello Saori!” You say politely. Still catching your breath and straighten yourself as best you can. 

“I do hope we did not overstep by helping ourselves to some provisions.  Just a little kitchen accident and Ms. Ann needs me back promptly for assistance.” 

Saori makes no attempt for a proper introduction. She looks puzzled at the two of you for a moment and frowns before turning to spit in the corner.  

“Well if your bandaged…be gone with ya” the crotchety woman mumbles as she waddles towards the back of the room. You’re not sure if this is the natural nature of the woman but decide it is best for Uhtred and yourself to take your leave before having to find out.

In the dark hallways, Uhtred embraces you once more.  No one is around but the possibility of anyone coming along at any moment is great.  Nevertheless, you allow the excitement of the passionate moment to grow inside you.  

“I believe this will have to wait for another occasion” Uhtred whispers against you. You smile and pull away slowly from his gentle embrace.

“Perhaps, in private chambers where we are not to be interrupted,” you say slyly. 

You are both smiling as you begin to step further away from the irresistible man. 

“Is that an invitation? Miss…” he trails off for a moment. “What did you say your name was?”

You look back now making your way towards the kitchen and beam a big bright smile at him. 

“I didn't!” 

[saleintothe90s]

466. Back to school with old periodicals

Oh hey, yeah I've been gone for nearly the whole month of August.

I cut my left index finger wiiiide open at my job (I was repackaging Road to Avalonea dvds, the Xacto knife slipped) so I wasn't in the mood to type when I came home from work, you know?

The locker backpacks! I had the original, the Wiz, the $20 one in second grade. The backpack didn't last long, it started falling apart at the seams. It was various neon colors.

This was in a Teen magazine in 1992, I believe. a TEEN magazine. She looks like someone's mom who just dropped her kids off at the bus stop.

I'm so sad that these are microfiche copies so we can't see them in full color. I found some Mead Super Shades examples from eBay:

(eBay user themotherroad)

(eBay user rmcm59) -- turquoise! filler paper! I'm sure that wasn't allowed in most schools.

Those Grip Stix pencils! I had those in the first grade and thought that they would help me improve my handwriting. They did not.

Because I too, brought my sassaby cosmetics case to school on the first day.

Back when times were tough like in 2012 when I couldn't find work, I abused the Sun In.

Zillions was a magazine that my house received briefly when I was 11 years old. It was a kid's version of Consumer Reports. When I saw this cover feature about a gorilla testing binders, I really thought someone dressed in a gorilla suit threw around some binders in the Zillions office. I wish. (I think in the era of TikTok they would have today) No, they put the binders through something similar to a rock tumbler:

By the time I was in high school in the late 90s, we didn't have homeroom. Homeroom was just, the first class of the day.

I didn't go to a "real" college until my junior year, and I didn't gain weight from the dining hall, I gained weight because I constantly went to this nice grocery store we had about a mile away, Martin's. I came from a tiny town where you had to drive nearly an hour to get to a big grocery store, so Martin's was a big deal for me. I didn't know that colleges served sushi in 1988. Apparently sushi just became a weekday thing at my college in the last couple of years.

I just saw on TikTok last night someone running across these original Lisa Frank folders from the late 80s/early 90s at a thrift store. Lemmie try to find it. Here it is.

Oh these wireless neatbooks were the worst to keep as a notebook to take notes in, but great to just carry around loose leaf paper for assignments without the bulk of a binder.

You know, I know, we all know this backpack would only last about a month.

yes, Spuds McKenzie the dog from the Bud Light Beer commercials was a hot item for back to school.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h0GJer4Qbx8

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[snootsnoot-fiction]

It's A Date

Pairing: Mark Renton x fem!reader

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: Mentions of drug abuse and sex, a tiny smidge of angst, but otherwise just fluff all the way x3

A/n: I got way more into this than I thought I would, I spent most the day on it, I hope is good. Feedback is appreciated. This is a lil gift for @rentskenobi, I hope you enjoy

Summary: You go to Scotland for work, and on the first night you meet none other than Mark Renton...

It was hard to believe he was in his late 20s now. Mark Renton had spent most of his time getting high off heroin for some time now. Him and his best mates; Spud and Sick Boy. They weren't his only best mates of course, but they all got high together under the valued guide that was 'Mother Superior'. Their dealer. 

To Mark, it was a way of life. He always said a hit was better than sex. That was a fact he lived by since his first ever hit. Not to say he didn't enjoy both - he very much did - but he just wasn't as bothered about the physical intimacy. Heroin ruled his life, and in the midst of his addiction, he wouldn't have it any other way.

One day, Renton decided to go clean. To try stop wasting his life. To actually do something. 

It was a bit of a difficult start at first. Mostly thanks to that very unpleasant journey to the toilet, but he did it. The man still wasn't quite sure what he was going to do with his life, but this was the start. To what, though, was a mystery. 

Something was missing. Mark didn't know what was missing, but something just didn't feel… right. It came to him while out with his mates. Renton was just standing there, having a smoke, when he suddenly realised they all had women companions. With his mind completely clear from drugs, his desire for that physical intimacy seemed to increase tenfold. That's what he was missing. Or so he thought. It was something beyond that. 

Walking through the crowd of dancing people, trying to make eye contact with women yet failing to really attract anyone, Mark stopped to take another breath of his cigarette when he noticed her. Standing alone at the bar looking miserable was the most stunning woman he had ever laid eyes on. 

You had come to Edinburgh for work. You were a freelance writer based in London. The freedom that came with your job was one of your favourite things about it. Sure, there was the occasional client that seemed almost too stressful to work for, but you were your own boss in the end. No-one to tie you down and order you about, while simultaneously being able to travel to places you've never been, and revisit the ones you loved.

Naturally, it had taken a little time, but you were able to build a reputation that helped keep a steady flow of income and enabled you to live comfortably enough. There was something missing from your life too though, but you had no idea just what it could be. You figured you were happy as is with your dream job. 

A magazine company had requested your help. They were intending to feature a special in a future issue talking about life in Scotland from an outside perspective. Of course, you were more than happy to take the job on. You had always wanted to see Scotland. To see what it had to offer. To see the difference between their night and day life, to life in a city like London. 

You hadn't been on it for too long. In fact, you had only been here since late morning/early afternoon. The company had offered to pay for hotels while you were working on this for them, so you went and got settled in your room first, freeing yourself of everything you carried all the way from London. Your intention was to just go out and experience as many facilities this place had to offer. Maybe even get to know some people who lived here to get a more personal insight. 

You had heard about a club in the area that the locals seemed to enjoy, so your first idea was to check that out. It wasn't your usual environment, but you were still excited to get started at least. Not dressing in anything fancy, more casual, you made your way there after a small meal. You felt tense the moment you entered. Unsure why exactly, you simply stuck by the bar. The bartender was nice. You occasionally asked him questions, and sometimes he would give you a drink saying 'from the gentleman over there' whilst pointing his thumb behind him at a guy that offered you an odd smile. 

The drinks were turned down, and finding yourself frowning slightly as you looked out at the crowd, you decided maybe it was time to retire for the night. So you made your way to the exit, stopped only by the same guy that had smiled at you, offering you a couple drinks himself. No matter what, you were certainly going back to your hotel for the night by yourself, so with a sigh you took the drinks and downed them both before you simply walked away.

"Excuse me!" You sighed at a voice, but ignored the man thinking it was the same one as before. That was, until he was suddenly jogging backwards in front of you. You had only glanced at this man the odd few times in the last couple hours, yet you never approached him. Now here he was. Seeing him up close, you couldn't help but think to yourself 'man you look really nice…' absent-mindedly smiling slightly as he smiled too. 

"I couldn't help but be impressed with how you handled the situation back there. What's your name?" He seemed charming and sweet. You got the impression he didn't do this too often, yet he also seemed genuine. 

"Y/N.." Something about this man instantly had you hooked. 

"Mark. Mark Renton. So I noticed you're not from around here." Referring more to your accent than anything. You merely smiled in response, making his smile widen. "Can I ask where you're from?" Mark was walking next to you now.

"London."

"You here for business or pleasure?" 

"Business."

"Where you off to now?"

"My hotel room."

"Where's that?" You simply raised a brow in answer. "I just mean to say I can walk you back if you want, I know this place, but I'm not promising anything." He chuckled at the joke suggestion. Yet you stopped and studied him in silence for a moment. You weren't about to trust a complete stranger in the middle of the night, but Renton seemed genuinely okay. Not to mention how this could potentially benefit your work. He simply stood there patiently with a small smile.

"Alright," you finally said after a moment, "but we're getting a taxi." At that moment, a taxi came driving down the street.

You invited him to your hotel room, and the two of you spent the whole night talking. Part of you suspected Mark initially approached you for other reasons, but the two of you hit it off and were enjoying yourselves more than either of you had in a long time. He admitted to you about his addiction, highlighting the fact he was clean now. You were happy for him. You couldn't deny that was one of the best nights of your life. Neither of you were quite aware at the time, but that was the night you fell in love.

During your stay in his city, Mark took you out to all the places he thought would be great to hang out together at, insisting each time 'for the sake of your work'. Of course, you took time to actually do work and type up impressions thus far. You even met a couple of his mates. Spud and Sick Boy. Sick Boy attempted to flirt with you when he first saw you, but you swiftly turned him down, noting that Mark's muscles seemed to tense when his friend flirted with you. You learned their other mate Tommy had recently been dumped so wasn't getting out as often, and Begbie… well you got the impression he wasn't too nice a guy. Mark confirmed your suspicions when he told you about the guy's violent nature.

You were enjoying yourself so much, when the day came for you to leave Edinburgh over a week later, you were sadly disappointed. You were going to visit other cities such as Glasgow, but you had come to really like this man. It was clear Mark wasn't all that excited about you leaving too. Despite knowing you were only here for work, he asked you to stay longer.

The two of you had only known each other for just over a week, but it made you sad to leave him. More than you let on. You both tried to keep your goodbye civil as you waited outside the hotel. Renton's heart was beating faster, as though he was about to miss the biggest opportunity. You had to force yourself to wave for a taxi, and put your luggage in the back before looking at the man you spent your last week with.

"Well… if you're ever in London…" you trail off. You look at each other for a few seconds before you turn to the taxi and open the door.

"Y/N!" Mark's hands were suddenly on your shoulders as he turned you around. He gave you no chance to respond before his lips were suddenly on yours as he held your face in both hands. Your arms went limp, but you reciprocated as the most wonderful feeling spread through you. A sort of happy warmth. Suddenly you were on cloud nine, and the world around you fell away like magic. You thought you could stay like this forever. Then he pulled away. 

"I love you.." the words came out before he could even think about it. You froze, unsure how to react. The happy buzz was still there, but your brain had no idea what to do in a situation where someone you had only known a week suddenly says they love you. 

Mark's face fell as what he said dawned on him while you merely stared at him. His mouth opened and closed, unable to say anything else in the moment. 

"Oi! You getting in or what?" The taxi driver brought you back to reality and you had to force yourself to look away from the man in front of you. "I'm sorry.." was all you muttered before you closed the door and suddenly he was far behind you. Standing there for what felt like forever, Renton eventually walked home, cursing himself for putting the both of you in that situation. Suddenly his home city felt just as bad and depressing as it always had. Soon enough, he and his friends turned back to their old habit.

Meanwhile, you were working, working, working. Mark entered your thoughts often. Even more so when you finished writing up your final piece on Scotland back at home. You were still clueless as to what you should do. You had each other's numbers, but neither of you had been the first to message. He thought about calling you when him and Spud got arrested, about telling you everything, but that seemed almost cruel to suddenly throw that on you out of nowhere. 

When your next project came along, you vowed to focus on that, and only that. You were more than happy to stay in London for this one, and you actually managed to focus. So much so that you forgot about Mark Renton until you suddenly bumped into him on your way home from your office one day. 

You had your head down, reading certain notes you had written down when you physically walked into the chest of another person, dropping your notepad. 

"I'm sorry, I-" you froze when the stranger stood up - having picked up your notepad for you.

"It's no bother, really." Mark Renton smiled down at you in his suit, holding out your pad. You hesitantly took it. Seeing you in front of him for the first time since his confession, he couldn't help but feel awkward, but he forced himself on. "Say, I don't suppose you've seen the most beautiful woman around, goes by Y/N? You'd know her if you see her. I'm new to town, and was hoping she could show me around. In fact, you actually look a lot like her." You couldn't help but smile as you blushed.

"Mark.."

"No wait." His face was serious, but there was still a soft smile. "I'm sorry about… you know. Too much has happened since you left, I've come down here for a fresh start - I even have a job!" He smiled proudly at that. "If it's okay with you, I was hoping we could start over?" You studied him again like you did the night you met. 

"Alright… but for what it's worth, I've missed you too…" your words pulled the biggest smile from Mark as a relief and happiness took over him. He had missed you tremendously, especially when his parents forced him to go cold turkey. Your presence made him happy.

"First things first, may I take you to the only pub I know in this city? Treat you to a drink or two? Maybe even have a little spontaneous date as it were?" His words made you blush again and your heart fluttered.

"It's a date." You accepted happily. It was like when you first met, except it was still light out. Which made an idea spring to mind as you remembered some of his earlier words. "I'll have to show you all the best spots after today when we're both free again." At that, Mark smirked.

"It's a date." His words made you chuckle as you gave him a light slap on the arm. He laughed in response before turning around, "Come on then." He went to wrap an arm around your shoulder, but stopped and held his arm out for you to hold as he led the way. 

"Yes Rents." He smiled warmly at your use of his nickname before your hand gripped his arm, sending little bits of pleasant electricity through him. Oh how he missed you. How he loved you.

Needless to say, you were both back where you needed to be. Feeling complete in each other's presence. You knew you loved Mark Renton, but you weren't about to tell him that just yet.

[m34gs]

egg

Anon has given Spud an egg

Oh no. The egg.

[sadgirlindiemusic]

I couldn’t do it - couldn’t write angst, so I wrote an angst antidote instead. This is the first bit of fiction I’ve written in a long time, I hope it doesn’t disappoint!

-

day 5 - abandonment

“If we do that Maria will accuse us of… of child abandonment or something. Besides, JJ can barely stay on Japan when we don’t hold him there. And that’s when the horse isn’t even moving,” Dina says, rolling her eyes at her girlfriend’s terrible plan for getting a few hours of peace away from their active child.

“We’ll tie a bunch of pillows to him so he doesn’t get hurt if he falls off. See? Foolproof,” Ellie responds, trying to rub the dirt and grass stains from their chase off her pants.

“And if he runs into any infected?”

Ellie chuckles. “Hey, if he can outrun me, he can outrun an infected. The infected should be worried about him, really. It’s not natural for a baby to be able to go that fast. Imagine what else he can do that we don’t know about.”

“Well, wonder baby or not, he’s definitely not ready to take Japan to Jackson on his own yet.” Dina pauses, sighs. The nights have been getting chilly, autumn creeping in. “Even if we really do need to hurry up and winterize the barn if we want the sheep to make it after the snow starts up.

JJ had been slow to crawl, then slow to walk, and Dina had been afraid that the days of running and fighting in Seattle, followed by their trip home on foot, had somehow harmed him permanently. And then one day he’d been babbling happily to himself in the garden while she righted a trellis that had been knocked over in a storm. He’d seen Ellie coming home from checking their traps before Dina did, and when she turned at the noise of the gate closing JJ had already pushed his way to his feet and, looking just as shocked as his newfound mobility as Dina felt, taken a few unsteady baby steps towards his mother.

Ellie had dropped her armful of rabbits right at the gate and sprinted towards him, laughing and whooping as she went. After about five steps JJ wobbled and fell, but Ellie was already there, scooping him up and turning his tears to laughter in a second.

Perhaps, Dina thought, they would have been less ecstatic if they’d known that JJ would go from walking to running within a month, and from running to climbing in another. The eagle eye he’d required in the past few weeks had made it even harder to keep the farm running, which had already been a challenge with just two adults. She’d been sure the improvised playpen they’d set up with hay bale barricades would hold him at least until his second birthday, but she had been wrong.

Dina and Ellie had been in the middle of patching a leaky spot in the barn roof when she’d glanced down, expecting to see JJ babbling up at them in protest from his hay bale jail cell, but JJ was nowhere in sight and the panic is instant, searing.

Dina scrambles down the ladder from the barn roof and Ellie slides and then jumps and after hesitating half a second to make sure Ellie had landed in one piece Dina is off, sprinting through a gaggle of startled sheep and rounding the corner of the house.

And there’s her son, safe and whole and unsuccessfully trying to scramble up the side of the tractor. Dina is crying, can hear her own sobs as if from outside herself, and it feels like an eternity before she reaches JJ. She lands skidding on her knees beside him and wraps him in her arms as he crawls eagerly into her lap. 

“Mama… sad?” JJ screws up his face, confused, reaching up a pudgy hand to touch her wet cheek as Dina continues to cling to him.

“It’s ok… it’s ok sweetheart. Mama was working and then couldn’t see where you were. I’m crying because I’m happy I found you.”

Ellie is there now, also teary-eyed, wrapping her arms over the two of them and running a hand over JJ’s mussed hair. After a moment she flops down beside them and takes off her boot to examine an ankle that’s starting to swell. “Spud,” she says, huffing out a sigh, “I love you, you’re great, but what do we have to do to get some peace and quiet around here.”

-

When the sheep are in the barn and the tools put away, Dina, Ellie, and JJ settle down in the soft grass in front of the porch. JJ is tuckered out, snoozing almost as soon as Dina puts him down, but she still keeps a close eye on him for any signs of waking. Just in case. She’s had about as much as she can take of search and recon today.

Dina sighs, leaning back on her hands and turning her face up to catch the last rays of the setting sun.

“He definitely gets the running off thing from you. I followed Talia around like a shadow when I was a kid, I would never have disappeared like that.”

A pause. Dina opens her eyes, glances over at Ellie. Her faced has hardened a few degrees, the smile that had been there a moment ago wiped away.

“Ellie?” Dina starts hesitantly, worried she’s struck a nerve. “I just mean you seem like you’d have been the sort of kid to run off like that. Didn’t you run away from Jackson once or twice as a kid?”

Ellie takes a breath, steels herself before turning her head to look Dina in the eyes. “I thought about it. Leaving here. Leaving you and JJ. Back when things were really bad in my head. And then Tommy showed up with a lead and… I thought for a little bit I had to go. Thought it might be the only way to fix things. I stayed up all night once just trying to find the guts to leave. Even started to pack. But I couldn’t do it.” She swallows, corrects herself. “Didn’t do it.”

Dina thinks back to this time a year before, which had been one of the most difficult periods in their relationship, the hardest perhaps except for their three days in Seattle and those first few nights after Joel’s death. Ellie had become even more distant than was usual, spending her days away from the farm with flimsy excuses, her evenings shut in her studio not even taking out her paints or sketching supplies, barely looking up when Dina came in to bring her dinner or for JJ to say goodnight. She’d woken up in the predawn hours alone nearly every night in those days, Ellie’s side of the bed cold.

If Dina is being honest with herself, had Ellie left them then a part of her wouldn’t have been surprised. Their relationship felt then like it had been living on borrowed time, like eventually the pain that had clawed away at Ellie from the inside since their beginning would make it impossible for her to stay here.

And then one day they’d been making their regular trading trip to Jackson and had stopped off at Maria’s for a visit, now living alone in the large house afforded the leader of the town, and Maria had made her customary suggestion that Ellie visit the pre-outbreak therapist who had moved into Jackson a few years back.

And Ellie, uncharacteristically, said yes. And slowly things had started to change.

“It it… better now?,” Dina asks, feeling a bit of the fear that had clouded her during Ellie’s worst  days rise up and letting it do so. “Do you still feel that way?”

And Dina knows it’s better. She knows by the reduced frequency of Ellie’s attacks and by the way she seems to come back from them more easily, by the way she seems far more present day to day. She knows it’s better when they make a trip to Jackson and Ellie trades in her jeans for a larger size instead of smaller, and when she sleeps easily more nights than not. But she still wants to hear Ellie say it’s better, tell her it’s ok, that she won’t wake up alone one morning with Ellie long gone.

“It is better, yeah,” Ellie says without hesitation. “Um, not like… perfect or anything. You know that. But better. Yeah.”

She sighs a bit and turns her head to face Dina, a small smile on her face. “I’m glad I’m here. Glad I’m with you guys. No plans of going anywhere.”

Ellie reaches her hand out to thread her fingers through Dina’s and squeeze gently, and Dina squeezes back.

“I’m glad you’re here too. Especially now that this goober has become an escape artist,” Dina says, gesturing at JJ who is still asleep on the grass.

“He’s going to keep doing it, isn’t he,” Ellie says.

“Oh, absolutely. It took you twenty years to learn, why should he do it any sooner? He’ll be giving us heart attacks for the next two decades, hope you’re ready.“

Ellie’s face is pensive again and Dina waits, smoothing her thumb over the palm of Ellie’s hand, knowing that her girlfriend will find the words with time.

“I guess I know a little how he felt now. How Joel felt. He’d get on my case about things, ‘Don’t climb up that, don’t jump off that,’ stuff like that. I thought it was kind of funny how he would get so scared. I always just thought that… like it would be my own fucking fault if I got hurt, why was he standing there looking like I’d just kicked his dog. But when I looked down and JJ wasn’t there I just… I was so scared. And Joel being Joel doesn’t really confuse me anymore.“

Dina stills, listening, letting this moment go on for as long as it will. Even though Ellie is so much better, she still finds it difficult to talk about Joel and Dina knows to savor it when it happens.

“When JJ was born I had no idea how to do this. I still don’t, really. I mean in a few months he’ll   be two, then three, he’ll go to school soon and be old enough to talk back and he’ll get smarter than us, then he’ll be like six feet tall and no way will we be able to catch him then…” Ellie swallows, turns serious again. “I don’t know if I’m doing this right, but I’m here and I’m trying, and I’m really glad I’m doing that. I’m really glad I’m with you guys.”

Dina turns towards her then, pulling Ellie’s hand up to her face and gently kissing the back of her palm, letting her lips linger. Ellie winds her arm around Dina’s shoulders, Dina looping her own around Ellie’s waist. JJ sleeps on. 

“I’m really glad I’m with you too, Ellie,” Dina says, leaning into the warmth of Ellie’s side. “There’s no one I’d rather be doing this with.”

They stay like that until the sun sets.

[rentsturner]

For headcanon, could we have reader have a crush on older!rents with the long hair?

(took some canon from porno for this)

I went off on so many tangents with this, i deeply apologise

You see him for the first time when you go to his club in Amsterdam

He’s standing off to the side, like he’s in a world of his own, slowly sipping a drink, his eyes on the dancing bodies crowding the floor

There seems to be something mysterious, something intriguing about him. He owns the club, but he never seems fully at ease it in, looking like he would be ready to run at the slightest disturbance

but hes gorgeous

It’s the hair that draws you to him

Dark blonde hair, hints of auburn at the roots, falling down to just above his shoulders

When he pushes it back from his face with a large hand, bicep straining against his tight shirt, his jaw tensed in concentration, your heart skips a beat

His gaze meets yours from across the crowd and he flashes a disarming smile, all teeth and bright eyes.

So you start going more often, just to catch a glimpse of him.

Eventually Mark notices 

He comes over to you and start chatting, seemingly happy to find something to do

Most of the conversation is him asking about you and your life

He avoids your questions about his background. All you know is that he moved here years ago from Edinburgh.

It seems like he’s hiding something, but he’s kind and he’s funny and he seems to really care

Unsurprisingly, you spend the night together. The man knows what he’s doing, that’s for sure.

You’re worried that he will lose interest after that, but he seems to want something more

Rents takes you out on bike rides around the city, showing you all his favourite spots away from the tourists.

You always take him back to your place in the evenings, more often than not he’ll stay over, but he usually leaves early to go to the gym.

sometimes you’re confused as to why he never offers to take you to his own home, but eventually he tells you about the rocky relationship with his (ex)wife, so you understand.

He takes you out for lunch at the local cafes, his arm wrapped securely around your waist when you walk along the streets. 

If he isn’t holding your waist, he’ll have your fingers entwined with yours, bringing your hand up to his lips to press a kiss on your knuckles.

He never officially asked you to be his partner, but it was something unspoken between the two of you, a mutual understanding that you would do things together now.

He convinces you to go on a run with him one time - never again. Mark doesn’t realise how fit he is and your legs were seriously burning at the pace he was setting.

but its fine because he apologises and makes it up to you that night by massaging your sore legs, amongst other things ;)

There’s always lots of deep, philosophical conversations with Mark, usually when you’re lying in bed after sex. He seems to know so much about life but never explains why. 

You can tell he’s educated, that’s for sure, but there’s also a rebellious streak to him, an anger towards upper class politicians and their webs of lies, an deep empathy that he feels towards the working class and their struggles. 

He has so many opinions and once you start a debate with him it will likely go on all night, from topics ranging from the meaning of a title of a novel, to arguments surrounding the meaning of life.

It’s obvious that he likes to make his own mind up about current affairs.

But then there’s the cheesy, comedic side to him. He tells so many bad jokes but you can’t help laughing along with him when he flashes that goddamn smile.

and you always have to brush his hair from his face when you’re kissing, the long unruly strands constantly falling over his forehead. 

But sometimes you think Mark styles it that way on purpose, because you always catch a slight moan from him whenever you tug slightly on his dark blonde locks. He secretly loves you pulling on his hair.

When he has the heart attack at the gym, you’re so scared, but when you get to the hospital he convinces you that he’s fine, that you don’t need to worry 

You hold his hand and fall asleep by the side of his bed after he comes out of the operation.

The next day he comes clean and tells you everything: the addiction, the skag deal, stealing the money, running from his mates for the rest of his life. 

And he tells you that he’s going to go back to Scotland and sort it out. 

‘But don’t worry, love, I won’t be gone for long. I’ll always come back for you’

He wants the long hair gone, so you sit him in front of a mirror and shave it off carefully, making sure to keep the top slightly longer. You’re sad to see it go, but he still looks good, even with his hair short.

He kisses you goodbye at the airport, holding you close, whispering that he’ll be back soon. 

And he does come back, taking you to Scotland with him to meet Sick Boy and Spud.

(I hope this is along the lines of what you wanted Brit 💛)

Renton Tags: @rosionis @callmearwen @ohhellokenobi @afogocado @stardancerluv @goldenkenobi @a-seeker-of-imagination @saintlaurentkenobi @mlmxreader

[bronskiibeat]

“ i don’t wanna talk to you rigjt now “ “let go of my hand “ but let them make up pls they’ve been through enough 🥺

Hey Anon, thanks for the request! This went a bit left of centre, completely ignored the angst part lol. But I got carried away, and I had to get this out of my system, I’ve been obsessed with this idea for ages!

Accompanying moodboard here Read on AO3 here --- It had been a weird fucking month. Ha, it had been a weird fucking year. Billy remembered almost nothing of being King of the Flayed, as Steve had taken to calling him. From anyone else that would be a gigantic kick in the teeth, but it was different with Steve. Steve who had been the only one to be able to drag any Billy out during that dark time. Steve who hadn’t given up on getting him back. That Steve. The Steve sleeping quietly with him now, in the warm glow of a lamp only achieved by the wee hours of the morning.

It had all been about to hit the fan, Billy’s body, controlled by something entirely outside of himself, was moments away from using him to kill the weird girl.  But Billy had been snapped back to his senses, freezing with the girl dangling from where he had her held against the wall by her neck.

 The girl with the red hair was there too, a giant radio in her hand as she glanced her panic towards at Billy, who had frozen still. The crying panic of the girl in his grasp, the shouts of his sister, that was who she was, the dull roar from the main floor upstairs, none of this registered to Billy, only the sound of the kid with no teeth rattling through the box in Max’s hand, Max that was here name.

 “Come in, this is a code red. Steve is still down there. We could not find him. Code red, Steve is missing!”

Billy’s eyes lock with Max’s, he sees her panic, her tears. He needs to get to Steve, his Steve that’s who he is. He drops the girl to her feet, far more gently than how he imagined she’d gotten up there, picking her up in his arms to take her back to the main food court, where all of Steve’s friends were. To the man with the shirt, Chief Hopper, that was his name. He marched straight towards him, ignoring the gun pointed to him, knowing he wouldn’t shoot with the girl in his arms, El, that was her name.

 He passed her to the Chief, staring at him, waiting to see if he would speak. He didn’t, so Billy forced his voice box to produce something. It was harder than he imagined, all that came out was “Steve.” Hopper seemed to know more about what that meant to Billy than he’d ever let on, nodding his head and lowering his gun, nodding his head aside as if giving permission, sending Billy off at a sprint. He knew where he was going, but he didn’t know how, he just knew. He stopped only to rip a radio from the ex-girlfriend’s brother’s hands, Mike, that was his name.

 Getting to Steve wasn’t something still in Billy’s brain at all, he had no memory between leaving the mall and picking Steve up off the floor of a bloodied cell, furnished only with a chair Steve appeared to have fallen off hours ago. Days later he’d been filled in on just how many Russian’s he’d killed in that blank spot, with bare hands and picked up weapons, and it made him throw up, physically sick by what he’d done. Steve had told him that was because he was a human. 

All he remembered was picking Steve up, the warmth of memory, of love pushing his own consciousness further into his own brain. The rest of the day had all been painfully vivid in his memory, always playing in repeat in his mind, like it was now. The alarm clock told him it was 3:34AM, and Billy believed it, only 3:34 felt like this. Soft and warm and terrifying all together. “I love you, Billy. Oh thank fuck. Billy, I love you so much, jesus-” Steve had murmured as Billy had manhandled him off the floor. Billy had carried him half the way back to the elevator, back upstairs to safety, to danger, the monster. Him, me, I’m the monster, I’m upstairs and downstairs.

Steve hadn’t shut up all the way, loving adoration, somewhat drunk sounding mumblings made thinking incredibly hard for Billy, who was still fighting to have full control of his brain. He set him down against the wall, holding his chin to look him in the face.

 “Steve. I don’t wanna talk to you right now.” The corners of Steve’s mouth pulled down almost childishly, Billy recognised that from a distance in his brain as sadness. “Until it’s out of me, I can’t, okay?” A nod satisfied him and he picked Steve up again, a voice stopped him, made him straighten up to work out where it was coming from. 

The man’s voice, the one who’s hair had slipped off his head and was hanging onto his chin, Billy didn’t know him, but the radio had his voice inside now. 

“Come in Hargrove, you need to switch the machine off, close the gate, can you take instruction?” It was shouted, panicked, Billy could see him which was confusing, he wasn’t here, but he could see Murray upstairs, he screwed his eyes shut to try and get this version of him under control. 

Steve laughed from where Billy had slung him over his shoulder. “Is that Crazy Murray? Murraaay!”

 Billy again had a strange gap in his memory, he remembers Murray’s voice, but not what he said, he has no idea how he knew which room to go to, which keys to turn, buttons to press. But he remembers again vividly turning those keys, eyes locked to Steve’s, Steve who was the only thing keeping him in control of himself, stopping him being taken over again by that thing. 

When they turned the keys, Billy hit the deck. He dropped like a sack of spuds, as if his strings had been cut, the puppet master bored. Then there were tears, so many tears.

 He remembers that well, he remembers that with a different horror to everything else, a horror that he couldn’t stop weeping, that Steve was barely conscious but holding his hand, head resting on his chest, whispering to him.

 He remembers it all, but he remembers Steve the most. The weight currently on his chest is the same weight, it’s Steve, holding tight, never letting go. 

Billy’s chest feels tight too, it always does after an action replay, the doctor calls it a ‘flashback’, but he’s not sure that’s appropriate, it’s not a flash it’s a play by play account of the game of life they engaged in that night, painfully detailed.

 It’s panic, he identified, he’s panicking. Gently, trying not to wake his Steve he tried to get up, walk it off, but a hand reaches for his own, a groan and then a small voice gain his attention. “Hey.” Billy smiles, in a million years that could never not make him smile, his Steve looking up at him. “Hi Pretty Boy.” Steve squeezed Billy’s hand, knowing something is wrong, he’s not been woken at 3 whatever AM for the fun of it, he kissed the spot of Billy’s chest where his head is resting. “Doing okay?” He whispered, curious eyes turning to meet his own.

 “Let go of my hand.” Billy replies, trying to extricate it from under whoever it was it was under. Steve frowns but unlocks his fingers gently, uncertainty replaced with satisfaction as Billy shifts to lie more fully under him. He needs to feel him, his Steve, all over, the only person who would ever have this much of a claim on him again. The positive possession of his boyfriend scrubbing over the terrifying possession of the month prior. “Love you too.” He murmured, wrapping his arms tightly around his Indiana Boy.

[curlyhairallday]

Bumps and Dumps - Part 6

Harry and Hattie were best friends and fuck buddies until she got knocked up. Her life was becoming one big mess and even though her best friend had finally admitted his feeling but she believed it is only because of the baby.

Harold: Him…….

Hatters: We were just friends Harry and he actually seems to care about me and he didn’t have to knock me up to realise.

Harry kept rereading the text he finally realised how bad he had screwed up his chances with her. He had always known she liked him for the most part he never realised though that one day when the universe had made it clear he can be selfish he can have her she would no longer want him. He had spent the whole of the SNL after party looking at this photo of her and fucking sink boy. Aj had been his only real threat and now he was playing the role of Dad to his unborn baby, he should be rubbing her back not him. Ever since that skit all he thought about was them going to birthing classes, getting the nursery ready in the new house and talking to her bump. Harry had been getting updates from Gemma apparently Hattie had the tiniest bump which more looked like she was bloated but only they knew it was their spud.

He tried to type her a message several times and gave up. He just kept looking at that photo he went onto twitter to see what his fans were saying. He knew Jeff would come over and try and come up with a plan to diffuse the situation but he also knew Jeff wouldn’t care as after looking at his fans tweets everyone was speculating he was going to become a Godfather to Aj’s baby all he wanted to tweet was it’s mine. Most people had assumed she had just drunk a few too many and was paying the price. Harry was so wrapped up in his phone he had forgotten that he had invited his mates to the after party including two of his exes Kendall and Camille.

“What you looking at Styles.”

Kendall quickly grabbed his phone away, Kendall had never quite known what was going on between him and Hattie but she herself thought they were meant to be together. Kendall had realised shortly into her fling with Harry that their was another women and she had never disliked Hattie the two had got on well. They were not best friends but that was because they were opposites Kendall and Camille were both slightly vain and their lives were hollywood. Where as, Hattie dreamed differently something Harry found intriguing she hated the spotlight and anything glitz and glam she craved a different lifestyle she loved fighting for people to get their attackers behind bars and helping men and women to prosecute their other halfs for domestic abuse. She didn’t need attention or money she needed to help. Where as, Camille and Kendall spent time and money on the latest clothes to look cool which is something them and Harry had bonded over, Hattie spent most her time around the house in his hoddies or merch. He tried not to compare them to Hattie when he had dated them both as he knew no matter what they would always fall short. Even when Hattie lectured him on the dangers of drug use or how he shouldn’t smoke or allow Camille to smoke in the house because his lungs wouldn’t work very well and he wouldn’t be able to hold the high notes, Hattie was a goody goody in that sense and Harry loved her for that. Now she would save her lectures for court when she realised that her child was better with Aj as a father than this fuck up. He downed his drink to help with the sorrow.

“So Harriet is having fun, wow look her new boyfriend is hot.”

“Of course.”

“Come on Styles you are normally the first to admire a man's good looks.”

“I’d admire them if he had any, she could do better.” Harry grumbled.

“By better do you mean you? I must admit thought you two would finally end up together, I was surprised you and Camille lasted so long didn’t think you could stand to distance yourself from her.”

Harry knew she was right they had cut multiple trips short during there time together because Hattie had a big test or she was stressed or he just missed her.

“I heard my name.”

Camille kissed Harry on the cheek as she joined him and Kendall.  Him and Camille were on good terms even though at the end it had hurt but he always knew he was trying to make himself love someone, when that place had already been filed.

“H, why are you so sad you just killed SNL.”

“Capital is saying you’re going to be a Godfather, is that why you’re so sad missed because you missed your shot?”

Kendall exclaimed while looking through the twitter feed.

“Harry wouldn’t care about that. When is she due? I am surprised she didn’t tell you first? Wait is she still living with you?”

Camille fired question after question at him, Camille was lovely and intelligent but she was one of those people who never wanted her ex to move on almost like a power move. In her mind Harry would have never fancied Hattie as he should still be into her. Harry quickly downed his drink he had been trying to stop drinking to fill a void but he was currently failing.

“Styles tell us what’s going on? so we can cheer your miserable ass up and get the fuck out of here and celebrate.”

Harry looked around at all of his friends in the room they were all so Harry and here to congratulate him.

“It’s mine.”

“What’s yours H?”

Camille stroked his arm and glanced at Kendall waiting for her to answer, she normally understood Harry.

“Whats going on over here?”

Jeff joined the group kissing both the girls on the cheek before looking at his mates solomon expression. Harry grabbed another drink of a waiter and downed it. Kendall passed Jeff Harry’s phone.

“Harry mate slow down a bit. I will sort it have you called Hattie made sure she is ok?” Jeff tried to reason knowing that Harry wasn’t handling his transition into parenthood the best mainly due to the baby mumma issues. He also knew one of Harry’s rules was protect Hattie so even though this would blow over in the press it probably wouldn’t have made it there if she hadn’t been friends with Harry or caught with the future CEO of one of the most prestigious law firms in the Country.

“The baby its mine.”

“Wait what?” Camille laughed out not believing him.

“She’s nearly twelve weeks, I am going to be a dad.”

Jeff was busy texting someone probably to get the press under control about Hattie.

“So why is your girlfriend with a random guy at 6am?”

“We aren’t together she doesn’t want me. I screwed it up by ignoring her for other people. Her exact last text was basically said I only want her because I knocked her up.”

“Let’s just have fun H.” Camille gave him and kendall both a glass.

The rest of the night was a blur until he woke up the next morning to five missed calls from Gemma and two from Anne. He could barely open his eyes the hangover was that bad.

“Hey Mum, sorry I was out last night?”

“Harry you need to call Hattie. She is devastated they told her that the no longer required her at the firm. Said the press photo was not a good look for the company having a employee throwing up at 6am outside Starbucks. Apparently clients won’t take her seriously and she did sevre damage ”

“Wait what? Did she say she’s pregnant?”

“Gemma has tried to comfort her but she’s distraught. She did they already knew she thinks that’s why they did it. She said to Gemma is was a possibility.”

“I can’t come home mum I have the late late show and my interview with Apple.”

“Harry you need to do something? Honestly Gemma called me panicked as you weren’t answering Hattie tried to call you of Gemma phone apparently her pregnancy hormones caused her to throw hers at the floor the other day.”

“Mum I am going to go.”

Harry layed there trying to figure out what to say, he couldn’t get out of work these things had been booked for months. Maybe he could convince her to fly out here for a break I mean he was sure his record label could use a solicitor but knew she hates that bit of the law.

“Gemma pass me to Hattie” He cut of his sister hello he was in a rush.

“Hattie, I am so sorry baby. You’re amazing.”

He could hear her hiccuping back her tears this was her dream job she had been through shit to keep this job and now she had lost it thanks to him.

“I wo-r-ked sooo …. Hard Harry.”

She began sobbing again he knew how hard she’d worked.  She was a robot at uni trying to get a first and not settling for anything less.

“Hatters baby, come to LA.  I have to be here all week but we can figure stuff out ok. I promise I will make you feel better.”

“I can’t even get drunk to numb this pain.”

Harry chuckled a drunk Hattie was a scary sight .

“Get on a plane now I will pick you up myself we will get ice cream and cake or anything spud will stomach.”

“I can’t Aj said he could get me a interview at his dads, In the family law section it’s not perfect but it’s something. I was really helping people though H they took it away because of spud. I am not going to resent spud though it’s not his fault or hers. It’s his mummy’s for being a whore.”

“Hattie what the fuck? You are not a whore.”

“That’s what twitter is saying and the people at work said I get around.”

She began crying again and selfishly all he cared about was the fact that she would be working with Aj and that made his blood boil. He also still had the hangover from hell and was struggling to not vomit.

“When is this interview?” He calmly asked so to not upset her.

“Later today.”

“Ok after I will book a flight this evening. You need a little break we can spend the rest of the week together I only have to work today and tomorrow. I can selffishly get my best friend back and hopefully you will feel a bit better.”

“I think I like that, I am sorry for being a bitch recently it’s hormones and also I couldn’t hold in my feelings.”

“We can talk when you get here.”

Hattie was annoyed with herself for apologising she was still mad at him but she wanted him bad. She had the interview and Aj had helped her a lot they had offered her a job and she was so thankful for Aj. If not she would be a pregnant singleish mum with no money at least she lived with Harry so she wouldn’t be on the street. She was excited to start next week mainly because Emily had been distant with her recently so Aj was all she had friends wise who wasn’t somehow linked to Harry. She had packed light for LA not wanting to take a lot as the morning sickness had made her feel very weak. She was surprised that she was willingly seeing Harry but she needed to. They had never spent this long without constant communication she was also excited for him to hold her as she still couldn’t believe she had lost her job and managed to get a new one in a 24hour period I guess it goes to show how important it is to know the right people.

She spent the whole flight passed out in front of the toilet or with her head down it being sick. She was convinced this baby hated her.

Bump and Dumps Part 2  Part 3  Part 4  Part 5  Part 6

[robronsecretsanta]

Fic: let the Christmas spirit ring

a series of what-could-have-been christmas’ for the absolutely marvellous @thisdamndesire with lots and lots from your secret santa! merry merry christmas <3

1.  Joyeux Noël

Robert’s started a fire with the logs Aaron thought were fake. He doesn’t let on that he’s surprised by it, instead he just sort of stares at Robert until he comes back to the sofa.

“You OK?” Robert asks, maybe for the twelfth time today and Aaron rolls his eyes, then turns to run a hand over his husband’s arm.

“We’re together.” Aaron says plainly. He shrugs a little and then looks down at the stupid jumper Robert’s got on. “You even tried haggling with that market guy over the price of this.”

Robert frowns, there’s this smile that sort of radiates out of him and Aaron’s not seen it for a while. He looks relaxed, shoulders slumped and this sleepy haze to him.

“Just ‘cause I don’t speak fluent French don’t mean he had to take the piss.” Robert turns himself a little so he’s looking at Aaron and then he holds his hand. “I’m so lucky you’re here.” His chin goes and Aaron cups his face, brings them closer together as their foreheads brush.

“Don’t.”

“It’s true.” Robert frowns. “‘Cause tomorrow they’ll be a whole Christmas you’re missing out on.” He closes his eyes. “Stupid Dingle knees up that I know you love.”

“Yeah. I do.” Aaron shrugs. “But you know what I thought about last night, me there without you. I couldn’t *bare that.”

Robert looks up, eyes flickering as Aaron rubs small circles into his cheeks. “Me here without you.” He punches the words out and hangs a hand in Aaron’s arm. “Couldn’t do that either.”

Aaron leans up, kisses Robert until he’s flat on the sofa and then he falls on top of him. They’re kissing and moving as the fire crackles around them and then after Aaron’s falling into the crook of Robert’s neck and hugging around him.

“You know what we can do tomorrow?” Aaron whispers, hands delicate over Robert’s chest. “See if those farming abilities of yours have worked.”

Robert smirks, thinks of the fact that Aaron made him dig up a patch outside the patio of this dingy flat they’ve got. He laughs, thinks about Aaron seemed to think him getting all frustrated over the mud over his jeans was somehow a turn on. He kisses Aaron’s head lightly and then sighs. “It won’t have worked yet.”

Aaron frowns, the lines hard on his forehead as he turns his neck and looks up at Robert. “Not even the spuds?” He asks and Robert kisses him again.

“No. Maybe next year.”

Aaron huffs out something gentle and moves closer into Robert’s neck. There’s this light inside of him as he thinks and then finds his hand in Robert’s. “Next year.”

“We’ll be out of this place. I promise.” Robert kisses Aaron’s head again like it’s his responsibility to make Aaron’s Christmas this bonanza. “We’ll be in that chateau.”

Aaron laughs almost breathlessly. “Will we?”

“Yeah.” Robert nods. “Have a proper tree n’all.” They’ve got this plastic little one that plays this Christmas tune over and over again when you twist it. There’s mistletoe hanging off their bedroom door but that’s about it. “And we’ll still …”

Aaron looks at Robert, pushes himself up and nods. “This where you say I’ll still be here like it’s a question.” He frowns. “Because it ain’t one. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Couldn’t if you wanted to.” Robert smirks, he’s got this hair all soft and pressed against his forehead. He looks like a right kid and Aaron strokes his face slowly to get him back.

“I wouldn’t ever want to.”

Robert’s not an idiot. He’s been draping tinsel around his neck and thinking about how in a few years time this is all going to get harder.

“Not ever?”

Aaron gulps, he practically sits on Robert’s lap and raises his chin to squeeze and smile at him. “Remember when we got married?”

“Which one?”

Aaron’s sure he’s the luckiest man on earth to be able to laugh at that. He does, dips his head before sighing. “I’m not ever leaving ya.” He gulps. “This life … me and you and Paris, it’s what I want forever.”

Robert just stares up at him, eyes green and wet. He breathes in deeply and then out again.

“I don’t deserve you.” Robert soaks Aaron in and has delicate hands skirting close.

“I decide that.” Aaron whispers before leaning down and kissing Robert gently. “And you’ll decide where the chateau is.”

“Will I?” Robert’s closed his eyes and pictured it for a while now. It’s like this soft soothing ideal that he wishes they’ll get to one day. “Why’s that?”

“Did a good job on our first home didn’t ya?” Aaron mumbles, turns himself down to lay next to his husband again and holds his hand. The fire is still crackling and the sky is heavy and dark outside now. They lay thinking in silence until Aaron’s phone vibrates and he sees its Liv. “She sent us …”

There’s this picture on the screen and it’s instantly blurry when Robert gets the chance to look. He’s crying almost on cue and it’s nearly as embarrassing as Aaron’s already snotty nose.

Liv’s somehow managed to get a picture with Seb in this little Santa hat. He’s showing his teeth as his grins and they’re both clearly surrounded by presents.

“Says, that they’re missing us so much but they’re going to have a good day tomorrow and so are we.”

“Ordering us is she?” Robert strokes a hand through Aaron’s hair and then wipes at his face when Aaron just sits and stares. Then he’s stroking the picture and almost existing in his own little world for a second.

“She’s right.” Aaron says, he looks at Robert with this certainty in his eyes. “We’re going to have a good day and so are they.” He smiles weakly and then leans in towards Robert again.

“I love you Mr Sugden.”

It comes out of him with this force and Aaron must realise because he closes his eyes and smiles a little, almost savours how much he knows Robert means it.

“Sugden-Dingle actually.”

Robert smiles, leans in for a kiss and thinks of tangled Christmas lights and Aaron refusing to move because he’s had too much turkey tomorrow. He thinks of them and this quietness they won’t be used to.

Then Aaron’s hand is in his again and he’s grounded.

“Merry Christmas.” Aaron whispers against his ear an hour later, the clock ticking past midnight now. Robert smiles to himself, places a hand over Aaron’s chest and nods.

“It’s going to be, yeah.” He says before kissing his husband’s chest and staring out the window.

It’s almost snowing, it makes him smile before he closes his eyes again. *

2. A one hour Christmas

The journey feels like years. There’s this ache in his chest that won’t go away as he holds firm on the letter deep in his coat pocket and keeps flicking down to look at it just so he knows this is actually real.

There’s been this letter telling him that Robert’s requested to see him and he’s been beside himself with this feeling ever since.

It’s here again now as the guards start to pile people in and Aaron’s faced with Robert for the first time in nearly a month. They’ve been doing this. Once a month visiting because the travelling takes it’s toll. Last time Aaron yawned and Robert was a wreck telling him they can’t do this anymore, that he’s being selfish and cruel and it’s taken so long to get back to this moment.

They’ve tried to do up the visiting room. There’s a stupid Christmas tree in the corner and it’s not got any tinsel on or anything. He thinks of it being a potential weapon, it’s the first thing that comes out of his mouth when Robert claps eyes on him.

He looks a little battered and bruised but that’s not showing on the outside. He’s got his hair still flat against his forehead and this gentleness to him that Aaron wasn’t expecting. He was worried he’d harden, he was petrified of it.

“What?” Robert whispers. They’re both still standing, looking at each other like there’s nothing else they can do.

“They’d probably try strangle each other with the … the tinsel.” Aaron almost smiles and then he breathes in and watches the guard wave a hand down towards them. He sits slowly and then leans towards Robert. “I thought you wouldn’t let me see you after last time.”

Aaron watches a family in the corner of the room. The woman’s got a toddler on her knee and a paper hat on her head. She’s bought the bloke a box of chocolates and it sits there on the table in front of them.

“It’s Christmas.” Robert’s voice is there and Aaron latches on to it. He gives him this small smile. “Well not really but … I wouldn’t let you spend it here alone.” He won’t because that means Aaron would have an hour instead of half an hour with him on the day and then he’d be forced to spend hours driving home.

“I would if you’d let me.” Aaron’d do about anything for Robert if he’d let him. He smiles slowly and then Robert looks away.

“That’s why this is so hard.” Robert bites his lip, his shoulders tense and Aaron finds this strength to lean right over.

“Look at me.”

Robert doesn’t. It’s like he can’t even bring himself to see how much Aaron absolutely adores his stupid self.

“Rob, look at me.” Eventually he does. “Seeing you today is enough. More than … you know how much I wanted to see you for Christmas?”

Robert’s chin wobbles.

“Haven’t thought of anything else.” It’s been on his mind, Robert’s been on his mind and there’s absolutely nothing new there. “What naff jumper to get ya.”

Robert gulps down something hard and sad. “Can’t do that now.”

Aaron wipes his face and he didn’t know he’d been crying. “No but we can think of what they’d say. Look like.” He bounces his knee and thinks. “Yours would say … uh … pull my cracker?”

Robert’s face almost lights up and it’s the best thing he’s ever seen. His heart actually constricts and he doesn’t know what to do with himself until Robert is gazing at him.

“Or … um … jingle my baubles.”

Robert drops his head and laughs. It comes out stifled and sad like he’s not used to it and for a second they’re in their own world. It’s like no one else is around them at all.

“Clever.”

“That’s why you married me.” Aaron says, he puffs his chest out and then leans a hand out over Robert’s arm before hesitating. “Sorry. Shit. I’m …”

“Put it back.”

Aaron frowns, looks around them and then back into Robert’s eyes. “I’m not causing you trouble.”

“You won’t be.” Robert says, because he’s determined with everything in him not to let anything ruin this moment right here. It’s Christmas Eve and Aaron’s making him laugh and for a second he can forget about having to say goodbye to him.

Slowly Aaron puts his hand back of the length of Robert’s arm, squeezes and then he’s crying again. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Robert says, he gulps, twists his lip to stop him from mirroring Aaron. “How’s our boy then?”

Aaron deflates slightly. “Missing you. Took him to see Santa. There’s a picture on my phone. I’ll … I’ll add it to the scrapbook for you yeah?”

Robert nods tightly. “And Liv? Vic?”

“Coping.” Aaron runs his hand over Robert’s arm again and again. “You?” It’s like they’ve worked backwards to get to the question and Robert tenses up a little again before sighing.

“I get by.”

“On your charm?”

Robert rolls his eyes.

“Oh it’s the good looks then?” Aaron’s got this strength within him whenever Robert is close by. It’s like he’s able to just pull through, push past everything in front of him.

Robert’s eyes flicker. “How can you be …”

“It’s Christmas.”

“Eve.”

Aaron frowns. “Still Christmas ain’t it?” He gazes up at Robert and then looks towards the small desk at the front of the room. They’re handing out mince pies and it makes him raise an eyebrow. “Do you want one?”

Robert breathes out and nods timidly. Aaron stands and goes to get one before Robert holds his arm and feels this light rush through him.

“I love you.” Robert whispers. He says it in this way that scares Aaron and it’s like he knows because he shakes his head. “I just want you to know.”

Aaron nods. “I’m not forgetting any time soon.” He says, and then he pulls out this necklace and Robert recognises his ring almost immediately. “Am I?”

Robert shakes his head for the smallest of seconds and then Aaron’s squeezing his shoulder as he walks towards the table and takes two. Robert feels this tightness in his chest and he’s so overwhelmed with this feeling of love for him.

He walks back towards him, probably still broken and splintered inside, but smiling. He’s even put a paper hat on his head and everything.

Robert smiles back without anything stopping him.

*

3. A Christmas delivery

The ward has a Santa going around handing chocolates out to all the mums and dads and they both don’t even register him as he walks up and down.

Robert’s just staring down at this tiny bundle of joy Aaron’s got in his arms. He’s holding their baby for the first time and it’s so clear that he’s mesmerised by her already.

“Think she’s too young for all that.” Robert whispers, voice low in Aaron’s ear as Santa waves at them.

Aaron gazes up. “Hmm?” Robert looks at the man walking out of the ward again and a few kids chasing after him. “Oh.” He smiles and then their daughter’s little arm waves up out of the soft blanket she’s draped in.

Rosie’s on the bed, half asleep and exhausted. She offers Aaron the smallest smile when he tells her she’s amazing.

“Now you get to be.” Robert tears up at it, feels this heaviness drop inside him as he squeezes her hand and thinks of how mad she was for even listening to them in the first place. They’d bustled into her life after Natalie fell through and now they’ve ended up with a little girl and a friend out of it all.

Aaron rocks her back and forth for a second more before she makes this sound and he smiles, kisses her head. “Thinks she wants daddy Robert’s cuddles.”

Robert pulls this face and he’s petrified of dropping her as Aaron passes her over with this ease. He’s got tears in his eyes and he smiles with this soft giddiness about him.

“Pretty cool Christmas present hey.” Aaron comes closer, tilts his head into Robert’s shoulder as he stands behind him on his tiptoes and stares down at their baby.

“Pretty unexpected one yeah.”

They’d been reading Seb a bedtime story, Aaron making these faces and trying to sound like an elephant whilst Robert tried roaring like a lion for him.

“Christmas Eve.” Robert shakes his head. “She picks her timing don’t she?” He curls a finger over her cheek and her eyes open. She’s got these blue eyes that make him almost stagger back. “God, she’s beautiful.” He whispers, feels Aaron kiss his shoulder and smile.

Later, Seb runs in with his dinosaur printed pyjamas still on and his hair a mess. Liv’s bought him in and he can’t help but stare at the baby like it’s magical.

“Is that our one?” Seb sucks his thumb, then takes it out to speak before looking up at his dads.

Robert’s still holding her, he leans over and nods at his son. “Yep. Look.” Seb does, cautious and almost afraid. “She’s your little sister. So that means …”

“You’re her big brother.” Aaron sits on the chair and then feels Liv squeeze his arms.

Seb still looks all unsure and they’ve been through this so many times. Robert’s worried until Seb frowns. “But she hasn’t got a name. I can’t just call her little sister.”

Aaron snorts. “You’re right buddy.” He picks up, holds him on his hap and taps his nose. “Daddy, should we let them know.”

“Duh.” Liv unfolds her arms and peaks over to smile at the baby.

“Annie.” Aaron says, eyes all soft as he stares at Robert and then down at her. “Annie Grace Sugden-Dingle.”

“Not a mouthful then.”

“Shut your face.”

Seb practically hauls himself down to try and get her from Robert’s arms. “Hello Annie!” He shouts, like if he does she’ll hear him.

Aaron runs a hand through his hair, kisses him as he pulls him away. “She’s too tiny to say anything back.” Seb pulls a face. “But you can still talk to her. All the time.”

“Is she coming home?”

Robert frowns. “Of course mate.” He thinks of the state of the nursery. They’d put up Christmas lights on a temporary basis and they’ll have to do now. It’s probably fitting or something.

“So she’ll get presents from Santa?” Seb’s gasp makes Robert stop staring down at Annie. “But Santa … does he have her on his list yet?”

The genuine concern makes Aaron’s heart melt and he starts smothering Seb with kisses until he giggles.

“Da — daddy. Tell me. It’s important.” Seb wrangles out of Aaron’s grip and then looks at Liv like he needs help.

“Of course Santa knows. He knows everything.” Liv throws a wink at her brother.

“Is he at our house now?” Seb asks, eyes wide and heavy and Aaron realises he has to bring up that track Santa app he’s got on his phone for just this moment. He’s in Croatia apparently. It settles Seb for now.

Eventually they get back, it’s officially Christmas Day by the time Seb is asleep on Liv’s shoulder and their tiny little girl is asleep in her car seat. Chas has dropped over this heap of my first Christmas stuff she’d bought them just in case and they’re so grateful Robert nearly cries.

Then Chas really did cry when they told her Annie’s full name. It was a lot. Now, they’re alone again because Liv’s crashed out on Seb’s bedroom floor talking to him about where Santa could be.

They just watch her for ages. They stare down and watch her breath, make those breathy little noises that make them both petrified and happy at the exact same time.

“Best Christmas ever I think.” Robert holds at Aaron’s hand and sees how scared his husband looks at the sight of all of what’s to come. “We’re going to have the most bonkers Christmas you know. Your lot. My lot. Our lot.” Aaron looks at him. “But it’ll be …”

“Perfect.” Aaron’s still watching Annie. The lights from the Christmas tree twinkling and light up her face into colours of red and green. He tilts his head up and kisses Robert, lazy, soft, gentle. “We did it.” He says, tears in his eyes that fall when Robert kisses him again.

“We did it.” Robert’s voice is thick with this emotion he doesn’t ever want to let go of. “And that’s Christmas is going to be perfect.” He holds Aaron by the waist until they’re both falling asleep on their first and Annie demands some attention again with a wail.

“Merry Christmas.” Robert says, shaking a bottle for Annie by the sink at half three and Aaron taking a turkey out to defrost. He expects Aaron to tell him to piss off, roll his eyes but instead he holds Annie over his shoulder, draped in her yellow blanket, and he nods. He proper nods, then shows teeth as he smiles.

“Merry Christmas.”