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godihatethiswebsite · 3 months ago

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Tethered Bonds

✽ Poly 141 x f!reader (Omegaverse AU)

A lucky stroke of fate led you right into the arms of your alpha soulmates. But is it everything you dreamed it would be or just the continuation of a nightmare?

Main Masterlist ✽ Ao3

✽ Part Four - Hamster ball

See? The last update wasn't a fluke! :) Bit of a more easygoing chapter compared to the hecticness I've been subjecting our poor omega to. Bit more background on our girl. Give her a bit of breathing room before hopping back into more chaos.

Also: I've added a change to the reader's physicality. There's a reference to being underweight for medical reasons so I'm sorry if that takes any of you out of the experience. I try to not mess with that aspect, but I just felt it necessary given everything I put this girl through.

Trigger warnings: angst, depression, customer service, malnourishment

The dog survived.

Life had apparently decided against throwing you any more curveballs on your way back to the apartment – slushy roads and bad drivers notwithstanding (honestly, how could this many people forget what front wheel drive did on black ice and wet pavement?).

Densely populated areas gave way to suburban life as you drove the twenty minutes it took to escape the city center and arrive back into a world a little less crowded.

The area you resided in could generously be considered lower middle class. The crime rate was on the lower end of the spectrum though still a tinge too high for most members of polite society. Nothing too terribly outlandish; juvenile gang violence typical of a sizable city and the occasional asshat who decided the stuff in your car now belonged to him. But there was a police station a few blocks down the road from you that ran frequent patrols and the low level violence kept the rent at a decent affordability.

There were less and less brownstones the further east you traveled, row house opulence giving way to multi level apartment buildings interspersed amongst a smattering of mid century moderns. Grass became a thing again, but only in long strips running parallel with the sidewalk – unless you were fortunate enough to own a modest front lawn on a small corner lot. Not that it was visible beneath the eight inches of snow that’d accumulated since it started falling late yesterday morning.

It was only late afternoon by the time you were back in familiar territory, but this close to the impending holiday the local residents left their Christmas lights on 24/7 it seemed. Most abodes were adorned with at least humble decorations.

Community members wrapped battery powered twinkle lights around the sparse barren elms, evergreen garland candy caning down metal street lamps, interlaced tinsel glimmering from passing headlights. Cheap vinyl stickers of cartoon snowmen and Santa's little helpers splattered across glass windows and sliding balcony doors in haphazard childish fashion. Mesh reindeer lawn ornaments and creepy animatronic statues recreating Saint Nick’s undertaking in kaleidoscopic – if not positively garish – displays.

Muddied coir welcome mats proclaiming ‘Blessed Yule!’. A giant inflatable dinosaur taking up way too much space and spinning an oversized dreidel. You even gave props to the guy with a grinch head popping out the top of his chimney, smirking deviously at the passersby down below as if they were in on the secret.

All walks of life celebrating the winter season in their own special ways.

You couldn’t even remember the last time you bothered to hang a simple wreath.

You were fortunate enough to find decently close street parking as you pulled up to the curve, grateful the black Kia behind had left space enough for more than just a clown car. A group of rowdy boys bundled snug in thick mittens and hand-knit toques called for a ceasefire, taking your nearby arrival as an excuse to catch their breaths and stockpile more ammunition for the fierce battle they waged. Childish insults flew from behind snowy barricades as you stepped out of your car and onto the icy sidewalk.

It was a more than usual hassle making the trudge inside your apartment building. Normally you kept your grocery list light; manageable for the haul up three flights of stairs despite the fully functioning elevator. But with the previous week’s illness eating into more of your food supply than normal you’d been forced to compensate for the barren cupboards.

Could you make multiple trips? Sure. Did you want to be outside in the blustery cold for longer than necessary? Nope. Hence the sight of you iron-manning your way through the building’s exterior entrance, clusters of bags biting into your arms even through your heavy winter coat, overstretched plastic really field testing its weight requirements and lumbering your already lethargic pace.

You were grateful that you’d remembered to double bag some of the heftier items, having almost made that same mistake the month prior if not for the shredding sound alerting you to the seam's fatal flaw. That’s all you needed was to be spending your evening on hands and knees mopping up shattered glass and pickle juice from grime-laden steps.

There's a sense of accomplishment as you haul the purchased goods over the threshold to your apartment, carefully depositing the burdensome load on the tile in front of your refrigerator, far too many to overwhelm your bite-sized kitchen table with. Doubling back to re-check the numerous door locks and deadbolts, you finally let loose a sigh as you kick off your snow boots and shuck the weighted material from your weary shoulders, hanging the ratty scarf on the hook next to it and giving your neck a chance to breathe again.

Rubbing the irritated skin hurt more than it helped. The damn thing was sensitive to abrasive material – only concealing it when absolutely necessary. Winter was easy; warmer months made the task trickier. Thankfully most people didn’t stare much at an omega with a patch of gauze taped over her neck. Newly bonded designations wore it as a badge of honor, proudly proclaiming to the world at large that they’d finally found their place amongst the upper echelons of packdom.

You, meanwhile, would have to be more careful in the future to wear turtlenecks if bombshell interactions were to become a normal occurrence. The last thing you needed were prying questions from nosy alphas.

A half gone tube of medicated ointment called your name from the bathroom counter, but the inflamed mating mark would have to wait until after you got the bulk of groceries put away. Canned items and other non perishables could be dealt with tomorrow. There was only so much strength left in your bones after a day like today.

The knock on your front door would have startled you worse if not for the preceding text message hailing the arrival.

‘Paranoid’ would be the appropriate term. Practically overnight you found yourself turning into one of those god awful annoying conspiracy theorists that hide in the dark cobwebs of the internet, spouting schizophrenic ravings of lunacy and government surveillance, too wrapped up in their straight jackets for oxygen to reach their corrupted brains.

It was hard not to be distrustful to any and all intruders of your dwelling, knowing full well the consequences that come from letting your guard down in a stunning display of naivety. The pinched tether on your bond reassured you of his distance, but he was far from being the only ill-intentioned alpha in a thousand mile radius.

Pulse fluttering like a baby bird and fingers flexing into trembling fists, you creep up to the peephole with all the finesse of a one-legged cat – despite knowing the face that would greet you on the other end. Per usual, the kind beta didn’t take it personally when you opened the door with barely enough space to let her inside, squeezing through the gap provided and scooting out of the way while you relatched your pacifying security measures.

All she offered was her usual glowing smile and a box of double stuf oreos.

“Hard day at therapy?”

Chloe had been an unexpected addition to the chaos of your life. For lack of in-unit appliances, the apartment complex housed a small laundry facility on the ground floor – free of charge, but awfully stifling come the summer months. Enough square footage that multiple people could use it at any given time, but not enough to hold even a quarter of the residents. On the weekdays, that damn thing could be packed tighter than a dented can of sardines (and smell just as fishy). It wasn’t unusual to find your neighbors making the trek of shame back to their rooms, hefting a still-soiled bag of clothing, waiting another hour or so in hopes of trying their hand at the laundry lottery all over again.

You were embarrassed to say you avoided the place like the plague for the first month after moving in. After all, what did it really matter?

You didn’t leave your apartment at the time. There was no need for decorum – no call to impress. And as an unpacked omega with disabling agoraphobia it sounded like the worst sort of torture porn experience. It had taken running out of febreze and being on the phone with your dads to finally venture down there at three o’clock in the morning on a random Tuesday in hopes the facility would be barren enough that your musky basket could stop reeking up your closet.

The scream you screamt upon turning the corner and finding another human being skulking around in the unlit void had you so sure your father’s were a hairs breadth away from calling down the fucking feds.

Turns out Chloe was a skittish thing a few years younger than you. A recent college graduate, this was her first real apartment outside of campus dorm life. But where you were up at the ass crack of dawn due to an anxiety-inducing aversion to civilization, she was down there to keep from running into the cute nerdy alpha across the hall and risking mortification at him peeping her dainty underthings.

Honestly you hadn’t been sure the smell of urine was coming from either laundry basket.

Once you’d calmed down enough to pull your fathers off the edge of booking the next flight down there to rough up some nonexistent predator, you’d managed to finish your chores on opposite sides of the room, neither engaging in any conversation beyond muffled apologies of humiliation.

What followed was an uneasy truce born out of necessity, a silent acknowledgement that this would be a weekly safe space free from judgment and criticism. Silence turned to whispered greetings, whispers became timid banter, until eventually you were confessing in therapy to eating homemade peanut butter cookies on the floor in front of the laundry machines.

Now she was the only other person in this whole entire city besides Dr. Miranda that you could go to for advice and needed companionship.

Originally you had no intention of exhausting any more of your social battery than had already been consumed. But therapy wasn’t for another week and you had too much bubbling inside to be contained by the cramped confines of your studio apartment. And Chloe was considerate enough that she knew not to overstay her welcome, her own introverted alarm clock ringing about the same time as yours.

“If only that had been the hard part,” you replied with a sigh, taking the parcel of outstretched goods and moseying on over to your butt shaped indent on the far end of the couch.

The sound of creaky hinges and clattering plastic informed you of Chloe’s detour to the kitchen. “Has that rust-bucket jalopy of yours finally gone to the great big scrap metal in the sky?”

Everyone’s a critic.

“How about we don’t put that out into the universe thank you very much.” Shoving a whole cookie in your mouth, you gratefully accept the cold glass of milk she passes over before taking up a spot on the cushion next to you, grabbing at her own treat from the open pack.

The mess of red curls atop her head and the loud pattern of her knit rainbow sweater deceptively implied a boisterous personality. Bright green eyes. A healthy dusting of freckles. Blue corduroy pants still smudged with gold leaf. One look at her 5 foot 11 stature and you’d think she was some sort of artistic fairy, flitting about from flower to flower like a social hummingbird. In truth she’d gone to school for fine arts, but in preparation for a career in conservation – something quiet and away from the harsh critics where she could help express someone else's ideas instead of her own.

Her soft hazelnut scent matches her sympathetic smile, always patient and warm with you. “Does it have something to do with why you smell like a latte? Oh dear–please tell me no one spilled hot coffee on you today!”

You duck your head from her doe eyed worry and concerned frown of dread, focusing on the cold bite of milk on your fingers as you plunge another sugary morsel into your clear plastic cup.

As toxic as it might have been, you couldn’t bring yourself to wash the scent of alpha from the pores of your skin.

“Chloe, I…” Here goes nothing. “I met someone yesterday…”

For the second time in less than four hours you found yourself spilling your heart to a friendly ear.

She heard all of it. The supermarket run-in. Tantalizing lemon. Silky coconut. Devastating chocolate. Therapy. The coffee shop mishap. Being gentled by a complete stranger.

The promise kept safe in your electronic device.

Where Dr. Miranda had broached the topic with a level-headed sense of therapeutic resolution, Chloe had all but clutched her pearls the longer your tantalizing tale was spun. She wore her expressions the way she wore her heart on her sleeve, squeezing the life out of a proffered couch pillow in a way that made you hope she didn’t have any pets at home.

“How could he possibly expect any of this to not come crashing down in a fiery hellscape of cataclysmic fury that would put Dante’s inferno to shame?”

Can you tell she went to catholic school?

“I mean… it's not like I caught him off guard technically,” you try to bargain. “Like yeah, today’s meeting wasn’t exactly on purpose, but they would’ve had a whole night to discuss things amongst themselves. Maybe they just reached some sort of weird agreement with her?”

She bites her lip to hide the sympathetic frown. “Do you really believe that though?”

No. No you didn’t.

It wasn’t hard to put yourself in her shoes considering the thick iron cable anchoring you to another. If that bond came with passion... if you knew the cloying taste of devotion – the idolatry that comes from having your molecules grafted onto a lover’s DNA – you’d shred every muscle strand in your body, tear skin from bone with bloodied teeth to keep what was coveted.

And here you were. The other woman.

Suddenly the chocolate dessert didn’t taste so appetizing.

At your lack of a meaningful answer, she unknowingly goes for the throat.

“Perhaps you should tell them–”

“No.”

The ice in your tone brokers no room for argument, instantly regretting the bite behind it as you watch her flinch back into the cushions with a meek whine.

Your expression softens in guilt. Chloe is just trying her best to help you navigate an otherwise impossible scenario. Her suggestion doesn’t come from a place of cruelty, only one of care. Even if it does speak of ignorance.

Not that she didn't still try.

“Wouldn’t you want to know if the roles were reversed?”

“And what good would that do?” you press far more gently this time, the acid of pain climbing up the back of your throat. “No matter what they say there’s no tangible future for us. That ship has well and truly sailed – I know that now. My destiny was signed with an iron pen and the deed says I belong to him.”

Your voice quivers on the last word, the sting of acceptance cutting into flesh with a rusty barbed wire. You never thought there could be a feeling worse than hopelessness.

“Telling them will only ensure that both parties suffer for another’s twisted scheme,” you continue past the lump in your throat, “and I won’t subject them to the burden that should be only mine to bear. I refuse to let them live with that guilt.”

Maybe it’s her beta upbringing that keeps her from fully understanding the colossal weight of putting your bonded through such inner turmoil. Chloe will never know what it means to share someone's emotions across an unwavering connection. Pack life isn’t barred from her, but the same primal urges that draw us towards our mates are nothing but strings of thread easily pruned.

Truthfully most betas never want it. To them, we all drew the short end of the straw; being forced into subjugation by ancient instincts that never shed their skin after the last ice age.

After the eternally looping rollercoaster that's been holding you prisoner the past four years, you can't say you disagree with them anymore.

“...maybe they chew with their mouths open.”

The huff she pulls from your chest is genuine, catching you off guard with the attempt at levity, the small roast doing its job of diffusing the atmosphere. Her extemporaneous remark reflects the giggles in her eyes begging you to play along.

“Bet they don’t wash their buttcracks either,” you add with a half-grin after a few moments of quiet, relishing in the way she covers her mouth to stifle a snort. Her energy is endearing, granting you leave to feed off the sunrays of her carefree aura, unblemished by the malice of a hateful underbelly, continuing for the next couple minutes that her presence lingers.

If only laughter was all it took to make everything better.

Consciousness greets you like a lifelong friend – one waiting to welcome you into outstretched arms, promising comfort and geniality with its disarming smile, swaddling you in a blanket so thick and plush it cradles you like a pregnant mother’s womb. It beckons with a silvery tongue, promising a joyful reunion as you give yourself over freely under the guise of a fresh start.

All the easier for it to slip a knife between your ribs.

You should’ve known better.

Sleep hasn’t been your ally since the night before the incident. Rest is not restful; it is a time where the walls between protection and abuse are at their thinnest. Where the toxic sludge of your connection oozes through the cracks like bubbling tar and coats your insides with its virulent adhesive. It chokes you with its noxious miasma, seeping into dreams and disturbing the regenerative process vital to your health.

Each day starts the same – dealing with the consequences of life on a strained leash.

Awareness comes into focus next like a camera in the exclusion zone, grainy and crackling under the effects of radioactivity while spreading like the beginnings of cancer through the pores of your skin. It clings around the edges, lethargic in its letting go, giving way only to the melodic chiming of your phone’s alarm that might as well be set to a booming fog horn.

Eyelashes crusty with dried salt crystals peel apart like fly paper, pupils fully dilated as the blackout curtains remove the need for constriction. The rumpled towel beneath you leaves tender spots on your back from where it bunched up in the night – a result of the fitful writhing when the nightmares your mind guards you from remembering leave your body feverful and drenched, soaking through the lightweight sheets and condensing in a thin layer of slimy moisture.

And the nausea.

God, the nausea.

The condition was a constant in your life, but its disruption was the worst during the early hours of the day.

Movement requires a delicate balance first thing in the morning. Jostle your body too much and the empty bin wedged between your bed and your nightstand gets reacquainted with the bile of your stomach (they’re apparently in an intimate relationship that you’re just sandwiched between like an awkward third wheel).

Problem is, barring the use of hefty restraints, it's impossible to know which side of the bed you’ll be waking up on. Literally.

Some days you find yourself facing the drab interior of your studio apartment rather than covered window panes, knowing the energy required to roll over towards the small nightstand will likely result in the emptying of your insides. Sleeping on your back had potential, but your form preferred to curl in on itself for lack of anything else to bring it comfort.

Lady Luck had apparently seen enough of your mental breakdowns the past forty eight hours to grant you a reprieve, taking pity on your string of misfortunes as the first thing your eyes take in upon blinking free from sand is the heavy satin of your window coverings keeping in the dark – some lavender pattern to help match the rest of your nesting materials. They’re still fresh out the box after all these years, though the accumulation of filth would tell you otherwise, dust bunnies taking up residence on the weighted linen.

Your furnishings haven’t been bathed in sunlight since the moving van.

The well-loved bottle of Zofran sits in its spot on the corner of your nightstand, next to your still ringing phone and a robin's egg stanley, a glass picture frame shoved in the far corner on the other side of your table lamp.

Still wrapped in a thick fog of drowsiness, leaden muscles flex and groan as your arm stretches the short distance, ears taking priority and fingers tapping at the illuminated screen until they locate the damn snooze button. Popping the small oval pill comes next, chasing it with lukewarm water before burrowing back down into the soft minky goodness of your comforter.

You're awake an hour before you need to be, but not to get anything done. No rejuvenating shower. No balanced breakfast and a half hour of yoga. Just adjusting to the abject misery your bond greets you with every day as a not so gentle reminder of the alpha you left behind.

It’s a constant struggle to remind yourself that the suffering is worth it for the lifetime of abuse from which you escaped. Better to be tormented by a path you chose than one unwillingly taken.

About forty minutes go by before the medication kicks in enough to allow you freedom of movement, pulling yourself from the tangles of your bedding with aching joints and low fuel reserves. Walking into the bathroom, you squint against the blinding overhead fluorescents, rubbing the spots from your eyes as you take in your frumpy reflection.

There’s a photograph next to your bed that you haven’t glanced at in a few months. Six familiar faces beaming into a camera lens somewhere high in the mountains. A family vacation from eight years ago; the best summer of your life.

That girl in the picture is nowhere to be found.

Spiritless eyes meet your gaze in the glass, early crows feet forming from periods of prolonged stress. A bone deep exhaustion reflected in your undereye bags, the dull pallor of your complexion. The frizziness of unmoisturized locks begging for a drink. Wind chapped lips and an eternal frown.

The oversized shirt hangs baggy on your form, once belonging to your brother but now in your possession. If you lifted up the garment you could practically count the ribs, a once healthy layer of fat and muscle cannibalized by famished cells and underutilization. It's hard to keep on weight when your stomach rejects the nourishment you try to provide.

If this is the empty shell you’ve become a full continent away from him then it’s hard to imagine what lifeless husk of a creature you might’ve deteriorated into under his brand of care.

There’s no more energy left by the time you do your business and finish brushing your teeth, knowing what few bolts remain will have to go towards the impending headache of customer service. Taming your unruly hair will just have to wait until later – if at all.

You flick the lights on as you pass, trudging on shaky legs to the cabinets above the microwave. There’s still too much unease in your tummy for your usual coffee order, opting for a mug of herbal tea to help settle the irritated organ, a spoonful of honey cutting through the mild bitterness. Settling on a sleeve of poptarts for a lazy breakfast, you lumber your way over towards the couch and the awaiting annoyances.

Opening shifts were always the worst.

Originally you’d approached the company with open availability in hopes of bettering your chances at landing a remote job. In those days, commuting to a location had been out of the question. It took months of submitting applications – relying solely on your family for all your expenses – before someone finally gave you an opportunity to rejoin the workforce.

(You wept the day you received the offer from HR. Having even a sliver of autonomy returned to you after a tumultuous period without it was as the first melting snow of a long envisioned spring).

Unfortunately it meant you were handed the hours no one else wanted to take. Most days that was the early shifts.

It’s not like you work a whole hell of a lot. The job itself is only part time after all and fairly easy; fourteen hours max per week. But you’d quickly learned that the later you were scheduled, the clearer your brain was to focus, the better you performed overall.

Now if only the big wigs at corporate would allow you to update your availability. When last you’d scrounged up enough courage to broach the topic to your immediate supervisor you were promptly informed that there was no current flexibility to your role and, when pressed, sent a look via Zoom that clearly said don't push it.

So much for ‘warm family environment’.

A small rolling side table acts as your makeshift desk, the apartment too cramped for something proper no matter how many attempts to tetris the layout. One of your fathers had come up with the brilliant solution while shopping at ikea for new end tables, spotting the piece of furniture and shipping it out to your location. You’d had to brave the awkward visit of the buff delivery man for a signature – hiding behind the door jamb like a sketchy criminal – but the purchase had been well worth it for how cluttered your poor kitchen table had previously looked, a jumbled mess of pens and wires, certifiably hazardous with its lengthy extension cord.

Armed with soothing chamomile and a warm knit blanket thrown over your lap, you boot up your laptop and log onto the program that would keep you chained to it for the next six hours.

Ask anyone that deals with customers directly: Christmas is the least wonderful time of the year.

Garbled phone calls over shitty receptions. The droning monotony of preplanned scripts. Old bitties recounting eight decades of family drama. Mass hysteria around shipping delays. ‘Happy Birthday Steve’ and the audible slick of his palm. Entitled socialites for whom the word ‘please’ never came preinstalled in their gold filigree hoity-toity dictionaries.

The fifteen minute break is almost insulting. As if anyone can decompress in such a meager timespan. It’s no wonder why people used to chainsmoke their way through the stress of their jobs.

You try to remind yourself of the before times – the trials and tribulations that came from previous employments. Long grueling hours spent pent up in bustling kitchens, the dinner rush on crab leg nights testing your arm strength and patience for slow steamers. Pushy roofing salesmen harping over impoverished neighborhoods. Car guys calling you toots and insisting on being assisted by a ‘real professional’.

This job was by far the most laid back. No fussing over business casual, no extroverted coworkers crowding your space, no bosses micromanaging for the sake of being assholes. You were living a cushy life by comparison.

But then your mind wanders to Jose on the third floor kitchen, busy doing prep work for the various departments; a kind man once he warmed up to you and found you competent enough to last. Always sneaking you tender bites of grilled meats and a bowl of creamy lobster bisque.

Nyle bringing you ladies in the office a round of Starbucks when he came in for mandatory meetings. Sharing music with Stacy and gabbing about just aired episodes of your favorite tv show. Heather bringing in fresh blueberry bear claws from the local bakery near her home.

Going to the irish pub across the street with the guys in finance that knew the owners, getting drunk off free whiskey and cider on Friday nights. All smiles and laughter as you twirl across the dance floor to a live band performing hits from musicians like Flogging Molly and Great Big Sea…

…and you realize just how much you took for granted. That there’s a palpable difference between surviving and living.

You don’t even notice you’re six minutes over break until your laptop pings from someone trying to get in touch with you, startling you out of melancholic reminiscence and bringing you back to a somber present that longs for the taste of livelihood.

That time has ended; those figures mere ghosts of a past better left forgotten in the vaults of your memory.

Now, you make a small but tidy living solving other people's problems a few hours a week. Enough to pay for personal bills, groceries, and the occasional indulgence while your fathers provide the bulk of your utilities and the sum of your rent. Your lost independence used to bother you more, but the thought of a homeless shelter quickly silenced your tongue.

Your cellphone reads one o’clock by the time you're freed from servitude, happy to be logging off as you push the rolling setup back out of the way. The air bubbles between the contours of your spine pop and crackle as you rise to your feet, ignoring the rush of lightheadedness from six hours remaining stationary. Resisting the urge to itch at the healing scab on the side of your neck, you pad into the kitchen to whip up a turkey sandwich – cautiously optimistic on the inclusion of juicy pickles – before plopping back down in your usual spot.

The acidity doesn’t seem to upset your stomach any further, allowing you to munch in peace on the simple scrapings of lunch, scrolling through the kindle app on your phone for something to occupy your time with.

There’s never much to do around here when the people in your life are busy living their own. Your family checks in on you every so often, catching you up on the goings-on in the quiet neighborhood, your father taking the opportunity to gush about his lego collection to someone other than his partner for a change. You miss the camaraderie that came with building the Death Star.

Despite living hundreds of miles away, their calls always made you feel as if you were gathered around the sectional in the warm lit interior of the sprawling living room, Christmas tree glowing by the light of the fire, a hot cup of cocoa and the merriment of family.

The same couldn’t be said for your younger brother Alex.

Ever since moving out at eighteen he'd become quite a prick, a beta complex a mile wide that only got worse when he surrounded himself with the wrong kinda crowd. The loss of his once fervent companionship had devastated you. After the accident that brought your parents to an early grave, you’d kept each other afloat through turbulent waves of depression, tidal waves of grief. Six became four, but – even though that wound would never fully heal – you still had the strength of their love to turn to when forgone memories played like black and white film.

But after that last argument…

Four became three.

It's been years since you last had any type of contact outside the occasional cheap greeting card – just another notch added to your mile long grinchmas belt come the holidays.

Fuck him.

Shaking yourself out of that spiraling rabbit hole, you turned back to the task of entertainment at hand. Since you didn’t feel like spending any more time on the phone listening to idle chatter than you already had today, you settled for choosing a book at random from your extensive TBR, diving into a medieval fantasy where brave warriors slayed evil dragons and an honorable knight could still save a princess.

The minute hand goes round and round.

Dinner is as simple an affair as lunch; a cheap frozen pizza popped in the oven adding an extra layer of warmth to the already balmy interior. There’s no need for a plate as you pull it off the wire rack onto the cardboard box it came in, gooey cheese bubbling hot and steamy, sizzling toppings shiny with bright orange grease, savory aromas wafting as they ride the circulation of the antiquated heating system.

Years of battling chronic fatigue have made you crafty, cutting corners on labor with gathered tips and tricks accumulated over hours of lengthy research. There’s no need to add to your pile of dishes; no plates or utensils to scrub free of dried food particles. Just you and your fingers tearing through the saucy meal chunk by chunk.

Dr. Miranda tells you it's all about the little victories. The moments of accomplishment no matter how insignificant. Doesn’t matter how you get the job done so long as it happens. Roll out of bed? That’s a win. A sleeve of ritz crackers for a meal? Glad you got sustenance. Just because you weren’t claiming a nobel prize didn’t mean your triumphs were any less important.

Didn’t leave much in the way of riveting stimulation though. Just acclimatizing you to existing in a hamster ball where the difference between day and night is as little as the am or pm on the clock.

After all, it wasn’t like your body signaled a change in energy levels. There’s no ‘getting tired’ when you never wake up.

The only time you ever felt a sense of normalcy was when you started the process of getting ready for bed, pinpoint focus narrowing in on the task of fixing your nest. Logic shuts down and gut feeling takes the reins. You lose yourself in the fussing over placement of plush fleece and textured sherpa, jersey knit sheets and squishmallow plushies. Weighted quilt blankets and cloud-fluffy pillows of various shapes and sizes, the assortment of pastel pinks and lush earthy greens giving off the enchanted forest vibes held dear to your heart.

It wasn’t large or luxurious by any means, but the few modest pieces you did have were plenty enough for the cozy space, strewn across the full sized bed in an organized haphazard chaos understood only by the omega instincts that dictate your actions.

Only, there’s something wrong…

You lament the smell of mildew as your nose breathes in the cloth of your pillowcase, whining in dejection at the offense to your delicate olfactory senses and pawing at the material in shame.

An omega’s nest is a vital part of the care and keeping of their fragile emotional state. Oftentimes they’re seen as a reflection of their owner's inner consciousness and a handy tool to monitor their anxiety levels on a day to day basis. An unkempt nest can not only signal deeper depression, but if neglected for too long may result in bodily dysregulation that can affect them even right down to a molecular level, throwing hormones out of whack and causing real physical illness.

Your nest hasn’t been properly cleaned in far too many months – no doubt adding to the high levels of stress that already permeate your everyday life. The sacred space that’s supposed to be your safe haven acts as just another graphic reminder that he’s taken everything from you. There's no true relaxation in your life because of it.

For what was the point of washing the sweat-stained fabric if there’s no stopping it getting soiled again the following night?

Pulling the musky sheets up to just below your chin, you stare blankly at the evidence of what happens when you get your hopes up, sitting plugged into the charger on the corner of your nightstand.

The phone hasn’t rang once.

You’ve been religiously checking the screen all day. Turned the volume from vibrate to blaring. Unclicked ‘do not disturb’ mode (turns out even telemarketers think you’re a waste of time). The device went everywhere with you, whether it was ten feet to the bathroom or six inches across the couch. Your desperation might have been otherwise embarrassing, but there was no worry of judgment besides your own in the guarded solitude of your apartment.

He'd given you a thimble of hope, and you were clinging to it like the last drop of water.

Whether it be a call or text; you didn’t know. But he promised you... promised you… that you’d be hearing from him soon. Threatened you against inaction on your part. And you’d just believed him. Believed that even for a moment – some tiny fraction of oblivion – there could exist a world where you didn’t have to feel quite so fucking alone.

What exactly has he been up to? Some prior commitment that pulled him from his phone? Maybe he’s just stuck at work all day? But then surely he doesn’t pull twelve hour shifts. Not like you found out their given occupations yet. Which means he’s gotta be sick, right? The weather’s been atrocious and you hadn’t physically seen him get in a car when he left.

Shit! He went home smelling like you. How did the pack react?

How did she react?

They didn’t get into a fight did they? She probably forced him to delete your contact info. God, you were so selfish putting them through this mess. But hadn't John been selfish too in wanting to keep you around? Was that really a pack decision?

The tears culminating in your eyes were pathetic. Acid rain bleaching your pillowcase in big caustic globules, seeping into the fabric and burning through the thin membrane of your cheeks. Bitter rage tainted the half formed excuses, corrupting like malware into personal betrayal.

How could you be so foolish? What part of ‘you’re not allowed to be happy’ did you not comprehend? Hadn’t you already learned not to shoot for the stars, much less the occupants of unit 2B?!

Poor, stupid omega.

You grasped your chest as if that could stop whatever clawed beast was burrowing its way past your ribcage to dig out a hole and lay its clutch. Flicking the bedside lamp off brought you as much darkness outside as there was feasting on your entrails and gorging itself for a long unforgiving winter.

Curling up in your repugnant nest, you couldn’t keep your heart from shattering as each teardrop extinguished the sputtering flame of hope.

You never got around to fixing your hair.

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solarmorrigan · 1 year ago

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Steve Harrington gives me Beach Boys vibes

Like. Steve's a little neutral on pop; he doesn't hate it, but it's not usually his first choice. But like a lot of kids, his musical exploration begins with his parents' collection

He finds his mom's Beach Boys albums when he's about twelve, a little after they start leaving on longer trips and he starts poking around the house because he's bored and alone. He can sort of remember his mom playing them when he was really young, can remember her dancing around the kitchen and being silly in ways she usually isn't

He starts playing the Beach Boys when his parents are gone, just sometimes, because the songs have a pretty good beat and the lyrics are fun and it makes him feel a little less lonely. He's got one playing one evening when his parents get home earlier than expected; his dad just shoots him a look at tells him to "turn down the damn racket" (which Steve does, quickly) before stalking up to his office, but his mom stands in the living room doorway, just watching him for a moment

It's the first time in a long time he remembers her just sitting down with him, smiling, laughing, listening to the music with him. She tells him about the first time she heard the band on the radio, and about how she'd gone out to buy their album the very next day. She tells him that his dad had called in to the local station more than once to request "Barbara Ann" because he knew it was her favorite (Steve can't imagine his dad doing anything like that, but he guesses his mom would know better than he does). She tells him that when he was little, too little to really remember, he would ask her to play "the surfing song," even though she was pretty sure he had no idea what surfing was

They don't do it again, but Steve holds onto the memory

He keeps playing the albums. He gets them on tape, when he happens to see them, and then he can play them in his car when the mood strikes. He wouldn't call himself a fan, exactly, but he doesn't have a better word for it. He ends up memorizing a lot of the lyrics, and finds that he doesn't mind having that knowledge at all

December of '85, the first holiday season Steve and Robin spend together, Robin is ready to tease Steve mercilessly for not only knowing all the words to "Little Saint Nick," but for singing along with it while standing at the counter of Family Video. In public. Steve takes it with good grace, but he also makes sure she also knows all the words by the end of their shift. They sing it together every time it comes on the overhead speakers after that

(Steve gets the feeling Robin's enjoyment is half ironic, but he doesn't mind. Her joy as she sings is sincere, and that's the important part)

Robin isn't the last convert he manages to induct, either

"Kokomo" comes out in '88, and Eddie wants to hate it. Really he does. It's really not his speed, he doesn't like surf music, but he just - he can't quite bring himself to dislike it. Not when Steve is listening to it on the radio in the kitchen, singing along, dancing around unselfconsciously while he does the dishes (moving his hips in ways Eddie does not want to associate with the Beach Boys)

But of course, the second Steve catches Eddie listening with anything other than disdain, it's all over. He turns all his attention on Eddie, singing to him, trying to beckon him into the kitchen to dance with him while Eddie valiantly tries to hold out against the fucking dork-ass romantic he's been dating for over a year

Steve points him and then curls his fingers in a "come hither" gesture as he croons along with the radio, telling Eddie to "come on, pretty mama," and Eddie has to let his head hang back while he tells Steve "I hate you," just so Steve won't see how hard he's smiling

He does end up dancing, his head resting on Steve's shoulder because he's laughing too hard to hold it up on his own, his eyes watering while Steve continues being ridiculous just for him

(It is absolutely not their song, but many years later, it does end up on Eddie's carefully curated wedding playlist. He disavows all knowledge of how it got there)

#if you actually know shit about the beach boys and any of this is off just. just look away. I'm sorry.#steve harrington #stobin #steddie #robin buckley #eddie munson #stranger things #I have no idea if they played 'little saint nick' on the radio as relentlessly in the 80s as they do now #let's just pretend #also; if you end up with a beach boys song stuck in your head due to this post: join the club #the one currently stuck in mine is sloop john b #solar wrote

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sealinredshoes · 10 days ago

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let's talk about names in The Folk of The Air

I realised today that I physically CAN'T shut up about how great of an author Holly Black is when it came to reference to folklore. I mean she basically build her carrier over her fairies knowledge. So anyway, here's some info about her character names because names are so important in the Fae world.

Let's start with Jude. The lies queen, the oath traitor, the one who

gets to turn a geis at her advantage, the mind trickster, the betrayer. According to multiple etymology work, "Jude" is a alterative form for Judah and therefore Judas, the bretrayer of Jesus. In old hebrew, Jude also mean " to praise". I mean, we are all accusating Cardan of being a simp, but maybe this little fairy-boy was just doing what the name was saying.

Speaking of our silly fae king, Cardan name was formed around the word "cairn", in old english. What is a cairn ? Nothing less that some rock pile that, in some stories, where supposed to gard the sleep of old fae king that where once trapped underground because they were too dangerous (or, dare I say, wicked ?). But it doesn't stop here, since "cardan" manage to became a surname for a stubborn person, and guess where the name "Cardan" first appeared ? Cheshire (wanna guess who he relate the most to when he read Alice in Wonderland ?)

Nicasia turn. One of the oldest and most powerful ocean spirit in the celtic folklore is called Old Nick, and I think there is some reference here made by Holly Black.

Taryn. Oh dear, do I have a lot to say about Taryn name. On the matter, she is probably the most gifted. Taryn name came from a variant of Thualta, the name of the godlike people that once rulled of Ireland before leaving to the undying island. Taryn represent the embodiment of the travel from mortal land to Elfame itself. But she also wear the same name as Tara, an old Irish fairy queen, wich name blend the meaning of "hills" and "star", showing the great extent of her power. Taryn is also a name given to the river that tend to overflow often. So, just like for her name, there is much more in Taryn that what we see at first.

Vivi complete name is Vivian and I think it speak for itself. Vivian is one of the many names of the Lady of the Lake, gardian of Excalibur. Her name in particular make me feel a little bittersweat. It bear the love of her step-dad for weapon, but also, it's maybe the first name her parent assimilated to fairies, and they may have chosen it quickly since they were still recovering with all the fae-related trauma. On the other hand, Vivian is also know to have managed to trap Merlin into a rock, so they were maybe wishing for her to be capable of overpowering any fae that could have wanted bother her.

Oak means oak (breathtaking I know), and oak trees are often associated with royalty in Celtic traditions. In France, it's said the king saint Louis was use to take court under a oak trees, and oak seed are often use to keep Fae treasures safe in fairytales

Hazel share some trees linked symbolism. It's known to be a symbols of righteousness and loyalty ( quite fitting for a knight if you want my opinion)

Jack sometimes means " to take the place", and, I mean, he is a changeling after all, but jack is also a name often give' to scarecrow, a parody of human beings

Benjamin's name means "second born" . Wtf, are you thinking if you have read the Darkest Part of the Forest. Isn't Benjamin the oldest sibling? Well yes, but he is the one the fairies like the most. The one who get the gift, the one who gets the story, the one deserving of a fairytale. And in all fairytales, it's the youngest son who is the hero, and who live the story. It's the benjamin brother who gets the magical gifts from the fairy lover who's head over heels for him. Ben might be the first born but by fairytale's logic, he is a Benjamin.

I haven't read the Oak saga yet so you'll have to tell me if it fits, but Suren's seem to means "the heroic one, the strong one"in Armenian, while her second name Wren, is the one of a small bird symbolising determination, enthusiasm and happiness

Some bonus for the Spiderwick Chronicles saga, because YES, I still believe they are part of this universe even if I know they legally can't.

Mallory etymology is from the french "malheureuse", wich means "unhappy", "unlucky", but something about the name of the others characters make me think it was choosen as a reference to Thomas Mallory, academically known as the first person to mention king Arthur in a written document (actually is more complicated but the meaning is still here)

Helen can be a reference as Helen of Troy, a female character who is often perceived as irritating and uninteresting until you start to rethink the story from her point of you, just like Jared have to learn that his mom is not trying to work against him, she is just a single mom trying her best.

I believe there must be some cultural references with Simon names, but I did not find it. All I've got is that his name means"to hear and to listen" such is kinda fitting,not gonna lie, my boy is trying to hold this family together by will alone so he have to play mediator all the time. (And of course It was saint Peter first name, like @amr102 say, everybody in this family is a reference)

I think Arthur Spiderwick name is a obvious reference to king Arthur since they bear (ehee, bear,king Arthur, you have it ?) the same narrative purpose of being the focus point of action without doing anything. (Update, @amr102 also reminded me that Tony Diterlizzi, the other author of the chronicles was massively influenced by Arthur Rackam style for his illustration, so, yeah, there is a reference for both of the authors)

For Lucinda, her name etymology come from lux, the light. But in a lot of gaelic tales, such as Cuchlein and Olwein, characters associated with light tends to turn crazy and / or see what the rest of the world cannot

And finally, Jared, my favourite one yet since the theory that he was named after Jareth the Goblin King from Labyrinth 1986 will never leave my brain.

#holly black #tfota #the darkest part of the forest #cardan greenbriar #jude duarte #the folk of the air #the cruel prince #the spiderwick chronicles #taryn duarte #ben evans #hazel evans #jack gordon #jared grace

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siremasterlawrence · 9 days ago

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Hypno-mas

Part 1

Santa Claus is literally placing gifts under my Christmas tree as I set my trap using a trigger trap by pulling a yank as a the tinsel falls off the tree wrapping around him and slips him to the floor. I walk out giggling in excitement with a power fist pumping it in the air happily as he stareson with this menacing glow about him as I kick him in the face is hard and he goes unconscious. The tinsel glows surrounding him in a all too strong display of power Santa Clause struggling to stand on his feet as the tinsels grow ever so bright binding him as I walk up to him and cup his chin extraordinarily tight. My efforts pulls a chin even closer to him as I kiss him he fell under my spell the magic swirls above his head over and over again causing him to become dizzy in a spiraling affect as he fell to his knees in front obedience.I crack up with a sweet grin on my face cup his chin kissing him more as my spell over took him leaving his mind to swirl out of control making him sick and he does more to be all mine. It is so exciting tosee as I undid his binds from the tinsel he rose to his feet standing up mindlessstaring ever so forward with love as I grope his ass, cock and then quicklyhead to the kitchen.He follows me like a good little husks he wants only to obey me, using a dog bowlI fill it with dog food and a second bowl with water as he dropsto his knees walk toward the bowls happily lapping it up and enjoying the moment. This is too good to me I love patting him on the back also rubbing him cementing myabsolutely power reigning on him inkindness and I begin to plan his fully ultimatum control where he shall stay for a lifetime.

“When I snap my finger you will wake up under my control permanently.”

“You will be my humble and loyal slave”

“Sir Yes Master Lawrence Sir”

“Wake up!”

“This will be instructive “

“Stand up”

“Open your eyes “

“Face me”

-SNAP-

“Hello Master”

“Do you love me?”

“With all my heart and soul “

“I am your slave “

“Kneel for me”

“You are my subject “

“How shall I please you?”

“Merry Christmas “

“Yes Merry Christmas! How should I please you?”

-SNAP-

“My first wish is that you keep your duties but hand over the power to me.”

“It’s completed! It was transcendent “

“Next wish! I want to be the best man in the universe.”

“The most powerful “

“The smartest “

“Mission completed”

“I want you to deliver all the gifts immediately “

“Yes my love!”

“Return back to me and bring your elves”.

Part 2

It’s six o’clock the evening when I place my jacket on to my back then exiting my frontdoor as I step down the staircase on to theblock as I head off in to one of the stores ofmy block that’s where I saw them looking so muscular and toned. When I head in my pocket begins to jingle like crazy as I reach in to my pocket to hand on to a pair of coins as I lift my hand in to the air as I shook them and something in me calls me to aim it at as I fling three in to the air. The coins start to dissipate in to energy as it surges in to the air spinning about in the air sprinkling down on to them as the whole store froze in time I can see Saint Nick in the back with smirk and I close my eyes they vanish. Next thing I know my body shook to a core of it I woke up rolling on to my side of the bed as I wake up in Santa’s bedroom with Santa and all of his elves kneels at my feet in utter display of subjugation as they are all my Slaves.

“Who are those guys?”

“Your new slaves you made “

“I made with the coins?”

“Precisely!”

“Bois strip “

“Prove your loyalty “

“I am your Master”

“Yes Santa”

“My Christmas this year is control the most powerful Superhero Team.”

“We can assembly that team “

“We can do it in one week”

“Very well! Get to work “

“Sir Yes Santa Sir”

“It’s time to set a plan “

“Start with the do gooders”

“You are talking about Boy Scout and goody two shoes.”

“You are correct”

“We are on it”

Part 3

“A flick of a finger and he is here.”

“Who are you? Santa?”

“I was but he is the real Santa “

“My mind is blown”

“It will be soon “

“Wait! What?

“Get him !”

“STOP!”

“Nnnnooooo”

“Magic? You criminal mind”

“You will soon obey me”

“Initiate the kryptonite shield “

“Use magic to enslave him”

“What did do to you?”

“Why are you doing this ?”

“What’s on your mind Clark?”

“How do you know my name?”

“I am Santa Clause and I am in your head “

“Mwahahahahaha “

“I am stuck mentally, emotionally and physically “

“Your mind is bending “

“My will is undeniable “

“Deep deep you have accepted it”

“I am your God”

“It’s time Clark”

“Be reborn as my son”

“Yes Santa! What is your command “

“Assemble a team “

Part 4

“Steve? Are you there? “

“Can I help you Clark?”

“Come to these coordinates immediately “

“Are you injured?”

“Yes! Hurry up!”

“Stay there “

“I’ll grab Bucky”

“Perfect “

“Don’t worry Clark”

“I wonder”

“Steve?”

“I am lost “

“It’s wrong…something”

“It is off indeed “

“My gut is going crazy”

“Steve look out! Is it a missile?”

“No it’s Clark”

“Why are you attacking us?”

“My God! Has demanded “

“Who is that ?”

“You will know soon enough”

“Clark no! Let’s us go”

“Watch your ship crash”

“Mwahahahahaha! So pretty”

“I love this “

“Master they are here!”

-SNAP-

“We hear and obey Santa.”

The end

#luke macfarlane #santa claus #evil superman #henry cavill #captain america #chris evans #bucky barnes #the winter soldier #sebastian stan #enslaved #hypnosis #mind control #reprogramming #hypno slave #hypno submission #mind control slaves #tinsel #magic #stable

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watchingyoufromthestars · 10 months ago

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Taylor getting a little too excited about getting on the Throne of God brings up an interesting idea of what if Willy had picked him instead of Scary or Normal. I don’t think I’ve seen any AU talk about Link or Taylor becoming Willy’s right hand man, and with Link it makes sense that it would be entirely out of character for him to ever do that, but Taylor? That kid is in his own little world so often. He lives by the notion that anime is real. On three accounts he came to the realization that Santa isn’t real*. And remember his teen fact from ep32? He didn’t entirely hate Willy until Scary’s breakdown.

F: Taylor… is not a fan of Willy. Anymore. At first, Taylor was like—

“I feel great about my Mom. Gettin—“

F: Yeah. But you know what, that guys a real jerk!

B: I feel like Scary could have gotten a lot farther had she known that Taylor was actually on her side the whole time.

All that matters to him is anime and his mom, who ends up becoming tied to Willy’s master plan to have the upper hand on the teens. I feel like there’s a good handful of material to work with here where Taylor goes on a dark arc villain era.

* side note, very funny to me that this exact joke happened multiple times, and also funny since his dad has been called Saint Nick

#dndads #dungeons and daddies #dndads spoilers #taylor swift dndads #willy stampler

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peaceofflights · 2 years ago

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Being in a Relationship With Wally Clark Would Include:

A/N: Someone asked me for a part two to “Falling in love with Wally Clark” where reader confesses their feelings to Wally. For that, and to understand some of the context I suggest going back and reading “What’s Three Years in the Eyes of Eternity.” which is bookmarked on my page!

Warning: this one delves a bit more into your physical relationship, nothing is too explicit. However, if you don’t like don’t read.

Being in a relationship with Wally Clark would include:

•You expecting things to change a lot, but in reality they don’t. You still do pretty much the same things as before… with some added perks.

•Holding hands everywhere you go. If Wally thought you were a hand holder before, he had no idea. It makes you feel connected to him to hold his hand, even if you’re doing absolutely nothing.

•If you’re in a conversation with other people holding pinkies, that way you aren’t too on top of each other.

• Coming up with the most ridiculous nick names for each other. They start off cute, but eventually just start getting really weird.

“Awe, my honey bear”

“Life is short puddin’ pop.”

“My adorable little doo doo”

“The cutest Sasquatch in town.”

•All of the forehead kisses. It started because your friends wouldn’t stop making gagging noises every time you two kissed. So now every time he has to part from you he leaves a very sweet but overly dramatic kiss to your head.

•He’s kind of the obsessed with you. When you’re across from each other either in the cafeteria, Football Field, or Theater you can often catch him staring at you. I mean he did this before your started dating, but instead of pretending to look away or do something else if you catch him; now he’ll give you a wink that of course leads to a lot of blushing on both ends.

•You’ve taken to calling him your puppy dog, since of course he is! At first it was just to other people but once he accidentally heard it come out of your mouth he couldn’t stop beaming. So from that moment forward he was to referred to as puppy.

•If you don’t call him puppy when your alone he’ll get mad.

“Um excuse me!? Who is Wally? Do we know a Wally? I am your puppy? I’m a good boy.”

It’s absolutely ridiculous, and he’s mostly kidding, but it’s just really adorable.

•The two of you do a lot of the same activities you did before you started dating; trying to find good movies to watch in the library, playing endless games of hide and seek, creating your own secret language. However, there are also some new things you do too…

•Yeah… LOTS of new things.

•It starts out pretty innocent, but after the homecoming dance things moved a little faster than they should have.

• Clothes were removed, hands were found in inappropriate places.

•Which brings you back to today. Neither of you by any means are blushing virgins, your college years were good to you. But you both agree that you have your entire after after life to spend together, you don’t need to spend every moment jumping each other’s bones.

•However, you two definitely aren’t saints and your new found physical relationship is one you love exploring.

• Though sometimes Wally’s age and slight less experience leads to some interesting situations. It doesn’t matter how many times you remind him, it feels like every morning you wake up to find some sort of new bruise highlighted on your skin. Which then leads to the never ending bullying of your friends.

•Look he’s your puppy and adore him, but also it would nice if you could go anywhere without being covered head to neck in hickies.

•Though his smirk when you bring it up you helps you realize it was in fact NOT an accident.

•He brings you gifts to make you smile. Sometimes it’s a poorly painted canvas he made in the art room or him serenading you to your favorite song, but it made you realize that you need to step up you girlfriend skills. Which leads you to finally letting him teach you to play football.

• It’s the first time you really focus and attempt to learn the rules and even if you aren’t very good you’ve never seen him so happy.

#school spirits #school spirits fanfic #school spirits fanfiction #wally clark x reader #wally clark

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aardvaark · 3 months ago

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the librarians "and the christmas thief" (s4e3) watch through:

patron saint of thieves (ie st nick... ie santa), leverage deja vu!

this has some kath & kim vibes - not sure if that’s intentional from the US writers but i hope it is. you might know kath & kim from this meme:

"did you just say - mum?" maybe they’re already working out what he means, but surely for like one second cassandra was thinking "what did you just call me?!?"

okay woah too many hilarious things just happened at once -

this exchange (plus them all running around the table lmaooo):

ezekiel: "they're my family, i'll sort it out, please!" cassandra: "i thought WE were your family!" ezekiel: "you’re a different sort of family. i like you guys!"

^ but re: the above, i love the fact cassandra's offended that he has another family... you know, the family he grew up with. which does make sense from her pov because both cassie & jacob very much have difficult relationships with their own relatives & the library is like their "main" family. she seems to have assumed it was the same way for ezekiel (after all, he's clearly not talked much about his mum & sisters). so she feels confused & a little betrayed even though all he's done is like. have a mother. lol. very much not his fault but i get why she's a bit upset

also love cassandra's incredibly convincing lie to eve, "i found it. the bottle opener. was in the bottle opener drawer. with the other bottle openers".

baird saying "bye, kids" LMAOOO.

ezekiel kissing cassandra on the lips (to which she looks grossed out lol) & about to do the same to jacob before getting pushed away

-AND lastly, ezekiel saying his mum lives just outside sydney & cassandra goes "that explains the accent". did you think he was just talking like that for fun

CASSIES HAIR

jacob knowing about thankstaking day for some reason??

cassandra giving ezekiel's mum a disturbed stare while she discusses stealing christmas presents, but also introducing herself politely & hugging her lol.

plot of the grinch

thank god for cassie. the one who noticed the globe was missing, now the one noticing the globe is on fire

thief worldbuilding. i feel like a lot of this is like the stuff they would've joked about behind the scenes in leverage ("crime world") but couldn't really add to a show that is mostly grounded in real life stuff. also i remember a society of thieves or something being mentioned much earlier on in this show, when representatives from the library and dragons and the fae etc all met up that one time. for some reason thieves are included in magical society lol.

wait if they frame that guy for stealing here, won't he get liquidated?? hope that blew over

its cool that we've seen the same show runners pick two very different sets of laser-avoidance styles for their thief characters lol. parker (leverage) doing the gymnastics type vs ezekiel basically dancing. both chosen to fit the characters im assuming (or in parkers case, to fit what she would have been trained by archie to do - a very classic thief style, according to tv at least lol).

LOL "ezekiel jones? THE ezekiel jones?" exactly like "parker? THE parker?"

well thats why thieves are in magical society ig! santas brother is canonically running the bank of thieves. okay

ezekiel was literally robin hood. and i like that he knows he's lucky and supports people who just didn't have that luck. also him talking about stealing as an art (which he's alluded to before), he really does simply have a passion.

"it has been my experience that behind every egotistical blowhard, there is a petulant, scared little boy"

ezekiel ultimately saying that his mum didnt just teach him greed but also very much generosity & kindness <3 idk family is complicated, people are complicated.

LMAO my very first thought was "wasn't it facing the other way?"

#the librarians #librarians watch through #and the christmas thief

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gudfornuthin · 2 years ago

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Hey✨

Can u write maybe a fanfic with Bernard the elf who fall in love with f!reader (Scott’s daughter)

Maybe mix fluff and smut together ♥️

Thanks 👉🏼👈🏼

Love Knows No Bounds

Bernard the Elf x reader

After a particularly bad breakup, you question whether love is destined for you. Perhaps a certain head elf will change your mind.

A/N: thank you so much for the request! Sorry it took so long, writers block has been a pain in the ass recently. This is mainly fluff as I’m not great with writing smut but I’ve tried to add a lil spice. Hope you enjoy❤️

Being the daughter of Santa Claus had it’s ups and downs. Having the chance to travel to the North Pole every Christmas to see where the magic happens is great. But since your dad took on the role as jolly old Saint Nick, you’ve seen him significantly less than you used to. He’d always been a busy man, but unsurprisingly having to provide toys for children around the world annually made it increasingly harder to find the time to spend with him.

However this year would be different. As you’d be spending the entire Christmas period at the North Pole, seeing your dad and the elves in action. It was all very exciting. Helping out in any way possible, waking up on Christmas morning, knowing that it would’ve snowed the night before. But there was one thing you were most excited for. Getting to see your favourite elf, Bernard.

The first time you met, he was anything but warm and welcoming. With the clear tension between him and your dad, the new appointed Santa Claus, there was no doubt going to be bad blood with you too. But overtime, you broke that wall he’d built around himself, and was soon introduced to the kind, loving Bernard. And it was perfect. You were happy to call him your friend.

After a long and tiresome ride up to your dad’s place of work, all you wanted to do was relax before the busy days ahead. You also needed time to get your mind off of the only thing you couldn’t stop dwelling on. Your ex. Almost 4 years into the relationship and he decides to shut it down this close to Christmas. Over text too. It made you question whether the whole notion of relationships and falling in love was worth it. Whether you were destined to be alone forever.

You make your way through to the workshop, hoping to find who you were looking for. Thankfully, he’s there, looking grumpy and stressed like he always does. Bernard glances over and does a double take, his expression changing once he sees you.

“Y/N!” He exclaims, getting strange looks from the other elves. He clears his throat in embarrassment and wonders quickly over to you, wishing he hadn’t shown how overjoyed he was. You smile, glad to know you’re the one who can positively change his mood.

“I’ve been so busy I forgot you were staying here for a while.” That was an absolute lie and Bernard knew that, but he didn’t want to show how long he’d been waiting for your arrival.

He didn’t realise when the feelings for you started. You’d only hung around each other a few times, and most of those were with your dad in the room. But there was something about you. He couldn’t get you out of his mind.

“How’ve you been?” He asks

You huff out a breath and smile tightly, not wanting to get into what you were going through at this moment. “I’m good, great really.”

The head elf immediately knows you’re not telling the truth. The short reply, and unconvincing smile, it wasn’t like you. He chooses not to push further, hoping to get a moment alone with you later. He nods and leads you over to the naughty and nice lists, excited to show you the work they’ve been doing.

After a long and strenuous day of sorting out presents and baking cookies, you were grateful to be falling into the king sized bed for a much needed nap. However, that moment was quickly broken due to a knock at your door. You groan and sit up.

“Yeah it’s open!”

Bernard slowly peeks his head through, a crooked smile dons his face.

“Hope I’m not intruding, but I bought something you may like.”

He enters fully and you see him holding a tray. You smell the sweet aroma and realise it’s Trudy’s famous hot cocoa. You nod, a sign for Bernard to make his way over to you with the drinks, sitting down on the bed and handing you a mug. You breath deep and take a sip, the rich chocolate hitting you.

“Thank you.”

Bernard takes a sip himself. “No problem. Thought you might need it.”

You sit in silence for a moment, relinquishing the feeling of being at the North Pole, and what you left behind at home. The head elf looks over at you, your eyes closed and your breathing slow. He desperately wants to ask what’s bothering you, but waits. He doesn’t want to push. At last, you break.

“Have you ever been in love?” Your question hits Bernard like a truck, almost choking on the hot beverage. That wasn’t the question he expected. He coughs a few times and turns to face you.

“Uhh… not really. I don’t think so at least. Why, have you?”

You laugh, rolling your eyes and making him think he said something wrong.

“I don’t even know. I thought I was. Thought I found the one. Or maybe I was just so desperate for love that I chose to settle for something less than perfect. I was blinded by it. And I watched it all fall apart. Four years for nothing but a broken heart.”

If Bernard wasn’t speechless before, he most certainly was now. He had no idea who you were talking about, but the thought of someone breaking your heart killed him inside. You. The perfect, beautiful, kind, you. He wanted to comfort you, tell you that it would be alright and that it would pass over time. But I’m reality, he had no idea. Like he’d said, he’d never been in love. Well, his current feelings were uncertain. Love maybe not, but overtime he could see these emotions growing stronger for you. Sending another bout of silence brewing, he speaks up.

“I’m guessing this is about some guy from home that you were with?” Bernard queries and you raise your eyebrows as if agreeing with the obvious. “Well, this might not help, but I’ll be the first to say he’s an idiot.”

You stifle a laugh, a small smirk appearing on your face. He’s glad he can get that reaction from you. He continues talking.

“He’s an idiot for letting go of something so perfect. Someone who puts others before themselves. Someone who cares so deeply, they’re willing to get hurt to protect others.”

You look Bernard in the eyes, stunned by his words and unsure how to respond. His voice is wavering, but he carries on.

“And… it pains me to hear you think like that. To think you should settle for something, for someone, less than you deserve. And you, Y/N, you deserve everything. You deserve the world and more.”

Bernard is unsure if his words reach you, feeling as if he’s floating outside his body. He’s confused as to where this all came from, worried it’ll scare you away and you’ll never want to speak to him again. But then you move closer to him and speak up.

“Maybe I’ve been looking in the wrong places.”

“Maybe you have.”

Neither of you know who leans in first, but suddenly your lips are locked, your hands cupping his face and his holding your waist. You deepen the kiss, sliding your hand down to Bernard’s chest, moving his shirt aside slightly. He gasps and you take it as a chance to slip your tongue into his mouth. The room feels hot, Bernard’s cheeks rosier than usual, and your palms clammy.

You lean back, pulling him with you in the process, until his laying on top. Bernard moves his kisses to your neck, sucking a specific spot. That’ll definitely leave a mark tomorrow. You pull his hair, warning him about it, but he pays no mind, working further down to your cleavage. He’s passionate, wanting you to feel special and important, unlike your ex. It’s bliss. You pull him back up for another heated kiss, finding it hard not to smile wide. He notices and smiles back.

“Maybe I should visit more often.”

“Maybe you should.”

#bernard the elf x reader #bernard x reader #bernard the elf #x reader #the santa clause #david krumholtz #the santa clauses

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rabbit-heart4 · 11 months ago

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seeing parallels between heaven help us (mcr) and hell followed with us (aj white)

so i started rereading hfwu and im already insane about it. and i was listening to my hfwu playlist while i worked on a painting of benji, and heaven help us came on. and then i realized, the line, "mostly i've been sprawled on these cathedral steps while spitting out the blood and screaming, someone save us now" parallels PERFECTLY with benji's begging god/something to save him from new nazareth AND how he vomits up the flood rot/organs for the "spitting blood" part. then i realized the entire song narratively represents the book. lets go one verse at a time.

hear the sound, the angels come screaming / down your voice / i hear you've been bleeding / make your choice / they say you've been pleading: someone save us!

okay, well here the angels represents...the angels... the sound could either be their prayer or gunshots. and i think the next part matches up with how nick recognizes the flood rot benji spits up and knows that benji is the seraph from the first time they meet. the choice nick makes is to take benji into the ALC and to not say anything. the pleading is how benji frequently begs god to save him from new nazareth

and out of this old hotel / but i can't tell if i've been breathing or sleeping or screaming or waiting for the man to call / or all the above / cause mostly i've been sprawled on these cathedral steps while spitting out the blood and screaming, someone save us

"this old hotel" is the ALC, and benji "waiting for the man to call" could refer to how he's just waiting for the angels to come capture him again OR for the seraph to take him. then the spitting blood part is the flood rot organs vomit thing. yeah.

as you're falling down / and will you pray for me? / or make a saint of me? / and will you lay for me? / or make a saint of me? / cause i'll give you all the nails you need / cover me in gasoline / wipe away those tears of blood again

this part goes with the devasting part towards the end when benji is in new nazareth again and how the angels all praise and worship him. i'm not sure about the nails and gasoline part, this book doesn't deal much with themes of crucifixion. HOWEVER, the gasoline COULD be with the ALC fire scene.

and the punchline to the joke is asking: someone save us now / come crashing down / we'll hear the sound / as you fall

this part matches a little too perfectly. at the ending of the book, it's the IRONY. that benji uses the weapon the angels made of him to destroy the angels. the punchline to the joke is that benji uses all of his manipulation and trauma to fight back. the ALC group will witness benji take down this group that has killed lord knows how many people.

final thoughts:

im not accusing aj white of plagarism or anything, it's probably a coincidence. i genuinely just found this super fucking cool. i'm posting this so that i can look back on it and possibly make an animatic one day. also sorry if any of this is off or anything i haven't gotten past page 40 and i don't remember a whole lot of details

#spoilers #hell followed with us #tw body horror #mcr #my chemical romance #so normal about this #hfwu #benji hfwu #benji woodside #nick hfwu #andrew joseph white #:3

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abeinginsand · 1 year ago

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Some hcs and snippets For Hot Glenn Holidays

(there's an idea for each prompt of the week)

----

Sweets and Baking:

Glenn likes spicy hot cocoa and coffee. It never occurred to him to look up a proper recipe for it, so usually he tossed a few drops of hot sauce in the beverage of choice and called it a day.

He does this with ready-made cookie dough as well. Both Darryl and Ron were appalled by this info but Henry seemed excited to ramble about some related family recipes.

Fun in the Snow (Post S2 AU):

It snows in hell all year so snow ball fights are pretty common. His favorite ones are yearly though when--most of the family (including Hermie) are wrangled into participating (compared to dragging over unsuspecting demons in the area). He also has an ice rink set up down there and is a DJ for it.

Caroling (Teen High School Band AU):

As the school's band teacher, he's always excited about performing with his students during the local parade. Its a performance mix of instruments and holiday tunes. One part rock 'n roll and the other being a mix of anime and traditional stuff. The anime music is courtesy of his grandson Taylor, also in the band. One of his old Glenn Close trio band mates always drives the truck for their float and of course the whole thing has protective guard rails on it. A few students and himself sit in chairs within big cardboard present boxes with no bottoms or tops. During certain cues in the songs, they are supposed to stand up to pop out of the box and then sit back down. Its a big hit with crowds and the candy canes others hand out seal the deal too. Little candy bags that even have coupons to local shops inside too.

Caroling and Saint Nicky:

Back when Morgan was still alive, she'd work some pretty long shifts sometimes. It was rarely around Christmas, but if it was, Glenn and Nick would do some caroling around the neighborhood and surprise her with a holiday serenade when she got back.

Present Wrapping (cw self harm):

Glenn's gotten into the bad habit of scratching his wrists to chase away the phantom feeling of cuffs and chains. He should stop but its easier to try and keep it a secret instead. Until he's at Darryl's holiday party and the sight of Jesus strapped to the cross makes his stomach flip. And he's off to the kitchen to get away from it all, wrists stinging as his nails-- But...with the sound of footsteps, he realizes Ron followed. The shorter man doesn't call out the obvious or ask any related questions to the red marks peaking out from under his baggy ugly christmas sweater. Instead, his friend asks him something else: "Can you try this ribbon on for me?" He doesn't remember if he even said yes or 'mhm' but the soft feeling of the present ribbon is nice. The thin fabric is warm from Ron's hands, tied loosely so Glenn could slip out of it at any time. He lets go of the breath he was holding, flexes his fingers, and stares at the pink ribbon now around one wrist "This looks dumb."

Ron doesn't hold back his little laugh at all and pats his shoulder. "Sure does. How does it feel though?" It was a thinly veiled 'How do you feel?' that Glenn decided to answer. Maybe because they were alone or because Ron was willing to laugh at him instead of assure him. Or a bit of both...

Glenn felt himself smirk and say a tired but honest, "A little better."

Christmas in the Sand:

Before the divorce, Bill used to take the family to the beach at least once a year. It was to have fun and make some business while he was down there. Getting a hotel at the beach was a lot cheaper in winter too. He'd often wake up earlier than his wife and son each morning to go browse the boardwalk. Again, there was money to be made with talks and setting up new gigs or busking.

But, regardless of the deals, his favorite part was waking up little Glenny and showing him the bag of trinkets he bought or traded for that day. The three also played out in the sand. Mostly Christine and Glenn burying a napping Bill in the sand. Christine wasn't one to laugh much except when looking at her sand mermaid husband snoozing away. Both were awake to play with their kid in the waves later on too. Glenn and Morgan took Nick to the beach as well, but they all tended to wander the city instead of play in the sand most of the time. It was so hard to get sand out of everything when they did go over there. Also having to convince their son not to munch on said sand was a whole other challenge! Still a lot of fun though and so many great pictures too.

Trees and Ornaments:

Since that blunt existed in the close family mail box regardless of the timeline shift, lets go with the thought that some other misc. items stayed behind too. Like a few worn family pictures from old vacations mentioned above. Glenn has a giant Christmas tree set up in hell and the beach day photo with Morgan by his side, an arm around his waist, and Nick on his shoulders always goes at the top instead of a star or other ornament.

#glenn close dndads #dndads glenn close #dndads #dndads headcanon #abeinginsand writing tag #hot glenn holidays 2023 #tw self harm #dndads fanart #dndads fic #dndads fanfic #fanfic #fic

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all-hallows-street · 1 year ago

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Theory: Who was conspiring with Nick?

In season 2 of the All Saints Street donghua Nick's goal is to take the Demon King's powers from Neil. His first attempt by making a deal with Demon King directly fails (S2E02) and he would later get a call from a shadow figure (S02E04). That is how we learn that he was not working alone; someone was helping him find a method to absorb the Demon King's power.

As of now (Season 4) nothing has been revealed about this figure even if they still appear in the opening and Nick has turned 'good'. Because the Demong King story line is wholly original to the adaptation, there is no hint as to who this person might be in the manhua either. That can't stop me from speculating. I have three theories right now as it who could it be. Spoilers for two yet to be introduced manghua characters.

First Suspect: Will Bovil

First, I'll start with my least likely suspect. Will was introduced in Chapter 386; his black horns indicate that he is from a noble lineage of demons. He is very powerful, probably the most powerful out of all the demons in the series right now. He and his family could easily be rewritten to be connected to the Demon King (who coincidentally has a black color scheme) in the adaptation.

Outside of this tenuous connection there is also the note that Nick receives being written in ochre yellow. The eye color in the official illustrations is flexible. Most of the time all demons will have a yellow eye color, but in the most recent 7th anniversary illustration Will and his brother have the most intense yellow shade eye color that matches with the note. An even weaker connection is that the scheme for the clubs line (The one with Will as king) in the 6th anniversary deck is yellow, admittedly for the 7th anniversary the color scheme is now purple.

The weakest point of this theory is that none of the actions taken by the shadow figure fit Will's apathetic character at all. He isn't one to seek power, or anything outside of being with Sasha really. It would be too OOC and while the adaptation has significantly changed some characters (Damao being the biggest example) I think it could be a step too far to make Will a villain.

Second Suspect: Witt 'Iron Fang'

Iron Fang is a commoner vampire introduced in Chapter 412. He befriends Lynn online to scam him, but Ira stops him and turns him in to the police because Iron Fang is an international smuggler. Iron Fang is the closest that we have to a straight up 'bad guy' in 1031 WSJ. One of the most recent fantasy AU comics (Ch 780) makes him a confidant that betrayed the king Lynn to usurp his throne. If anyone could be a villain in the adaptation is him.

As he is a smuggler it would also explain how he got the book and later on the 'wand' to extract the Demon King's powers. Iron Fang also displayed a disdain towards angels, giving him a motive for why he would want to awaken the Demon King: destroy the current peace between evil beings and angels.

The biggest point against it being Iron fang, is that he was introduced too close to when the anime was being released. March/April 2020 was the first strip where he appears. Season 1 was released in April 2020 with season 2 releasing in October, but obviously the donghua was being worked on way before that. However, Iron Fang could easily retroactively be made to be this shadowy figure even if back then they had no idea who this character would be. Which leads me to...

Third Suspect: New character

The dongua has created a few, admittedly nameless, characters. Mostly the supernatural league leaders are all original and of course the Demon King himself. I can see out suspect being a new character, maybe someone to contrast with the Demon King. Previously I was rambling about the demons' yellow eye color matching a note, but you know what group is also associated with yellow/gold?

I think an angel villain would be an interesting twist, but I'm just a humble reader and this is just my opinion. Right now, anything is possible, and I trust the team behind the adaptation to cook up something good.

Thanks for reading my insane ramblings and if all my theorizing turns out to be MatPat levels of wrong you are free to make fun of me for like a month.

#all saints street #1031 万圣街 #wan sheng jie #analysis

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weirdcat1213 · 2 years ago

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Ok now onto trigun and religion before I forget. Someone may have said all of this before lmao

So we all know vash is Jesus and wolfwood is judas, that one is clear for all of us. But I think there's even more funny parallels.

The 12 assassins (ww included) are the 12 apostles yeah but if jesus is vash why are they trying to kill him? So from knives's perspective HE IS jesus and the gun ho guns are the ones helping him, and one of them betrays him.

It's interesting to me than the guy who is literally jesus feels like the worst person ever but the guy who is evil as hell thinks of himself as jeesus who needs 12 little people to spread his message of hate.

Speaking of evil let's talk about the devil, who was first an angel who was casted away. We could say knives vanished himself when he got knowledge of what humans did to tesla...but what would vash be? Would he also be a fallen angel because he found out the truth? I wonder if there's a story of about 2 angels falling together.

Speaking of falling together, we still got Adam and eve. No they're not a couple get out of my house although vash would be eve cuz feminine trauma yes thanks nightow when both vash and knives figured what happened to tesla they didn't literally fall (that's later) but it's true that their paradise breaks. They weren't cast away by God but rem did try to keep them away from the truth like God did.

Speaking of God, who's God in trigun? The plants are clearly meant to be angels and rem is clearly meant to be Mary (had kids without doing the devils tango and was a selfless and nice woman you know the deal). Knives thinks of himself as God and although he says vash is his only equal cuz he's a plant he still sees his brother as someone beneath him. Hell in stampede he straight up calls himself God and calls vash jeesus, implying he is his father, someone above him.

Speaking of implications let's go back to ww being judas again. He is judas cuz he betrayed his mission and values for someone who is a literal opposite of him but again it depends on who's jeesus on your perspective. If knives is jeesus then yeah, wolfwood betrayed him for the Gay Thoughts TM (I'm joking but I'm not actually) and mf paid for it BUT if vash is jeesus then wolfwood didn't betrayed jeesus specifically but himself, and again he paid the price for following someone who was so different of what he knew.

(Ik wolfwood could also be considered as saint nick aka the reason why Santa exists and it would work cuz they both have as their mission to help children and make them happy but you will only find sad gay angst here sorry. Plus idk if saint nick and jeesus have history together)

I may do a part 2 if I think about any other things

#trigun stampede #trigun #trimax #trigun 98 #trigun maximum #what the hell happened here #also july was totally the city of babel #they thought they could reach god aka make a big ass city in that arid planet aka challenge god and his will #and they died #i wonder who would meryl and milly be

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sk8termikey · 8 months ago

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Chapter 21 of 21 Questions

better interface on wattpad (I had to put the song that made me wanna create this fanfic)

“Hello hello!” Lily called as she arrived in the living room after the deep conversation regarding her love life had finished not long ago. “Bathroom’s free so first come first serve. Towels are on the rack and you can put your clothes in the laundry basket if you want.”

The triplets all thanked her before Nick decided that he’d go first after taking the suitcase upstairs to have his pyjamas ready, seeing as Lily was in hers. The girl plopped down on the couch next to Matt as Alex finally sat down too, next to Chris.

“What’d I miss?”

“We talked about how wonderful you are and that you’re the best person ever!” Alex joked.

“Damn, nothing I didn’t know then”, Lily teased back. “As long as you don’t force the guys to say shit like that.”

The four friends laughed at that, before Chris assured that they didn’t have to be pressured into admitting something that they could see for themselves, which actually made Lily feel so loved. She looked at Matt for confirmation, and he carefully nodded at his brother’s statement.

“Y’all are so nice to me”, Lily said as she wiped a fake tear. “I’ll need to invite you here more often.”

“Please do because y’all have a nice house,” Chris complimented. “Shit’s feels real cosy and homely.”

“That’s so sweet bro, we take that very seriously. Thanks.” Lily was truly appreciative to hear that her guests felt comfortable in the house as it was something that was important to her and Alex: making people feel welcome.

They kept talking about random subjects, from the triplets’ tour to the girls’ childhood, while the people on the couch kept changing for the next hour or so as each one of them would eventually go take a shower. This was the final shift of seats as Alex went to have hers and Lily was left with Nick, Matt and Chris – Bernard was travelling around the house and would occasionally come back to be petted by the group. As she saw the time that had come by, Lily suggested that they order food as the triplets might be hungry. They gladly accepted and Lily unlocked her phone to check for delivery options.

“Usually I’d actually cook for y’all but I’m kinda exhausted right now so tomorrow night if you’re still here. I can offer you pizzas for tonight?”

“We’ll never refuse pizzas”, Nick agreed with the proposal. “And we’ll definitely be here tomorrow night if you’re not tired of us yet.”

“I could never!”The girl faked to be offended. “Here, look at the menu and add your choices to the cart.”

Lily passed her phone to the triplets so that they could decide what they wanted before they gave it back to her. She then chose for her and Alex before confirming the order that would arrive soon enough. While they waited, Lily asked the triplets what they wanted to drink.

“I’m mostly asking Nick and Matt though, I’m certain Chris wants a pepsi. Would I be right?”

“Absolutely, you know me so well wow!” Chris sarcastically laughed before thanking the girl.

Nick and Matt joined Lily in the kitchen to see the other choices for themselves. They felt lucky that the girls had similar taste to them as Nick was able to get a Saint Pellegrino while Matt also got a Pepsi as he saw that the fridge had quite a lot in it.

“Y’all will have to thank Alex for that”, Lily said as she handed the youngest triplets their drinks. “Girly has been addicted to soda since high school, though not as bad as Chris luckily.”

“Thank you for pointing that out!” Nick exclaimed. “He really needs to notice how bad his drinking habits are.”

“Wait, as a good host I should actually give him water then”, Lily seriously offered.

“Being a good host means listening to your guests’ needs though?” Chris tried to reason as he wasn’t giving up his can.

“Your brain might want all that sugar but I swear your body truly needs water bro. This is the only Pepsi you’ll get tonight so cherish it because you’ll be water hydrated for the rest of the night.”

“I’m for real considering hiring you as his life coach right now”, Matt half-joked. “He needs that kind of attitude around him that isn’t coming from Nick or me.”

“Sure,” Lily replied. “How much is the job?”

“You’re leaving me, what?” Alex dramatically questioned as she kept appearing at the most out-of- context moments in conversations. “How am I gonna live without you by my side? Nooooo!”

“I’d never babe, don’t worry.” Lily reassured as everyone laughed at Alex’s fake offence. “Sorry guys, I can’t leave the love of my life alone.”

“We’ll manage, it’s okay.” Matt sat down at the table while opening his own can. “At least we have your number if we actually need your skills one day.”

“We don’t though?” Chris raised an eyebrow at his brother. “You are the only one in contact with Lily bro.”

“Correct,” Nick realised. “I’ll need a way to contact both of you right now.”

“I’ll send Lily’s number to you and give her yours,” Matt offered. “Alex too obviously, we’ll all need yours.”

“Yayy!” The blonde girl agreed. “We soooo must have a group chat because I know it’s the best way for us to keep in touch.”

“Also correct, that’s a necessity.” Nick was completely on board as he felt excited about talking more with the two girls even after he and his brothers would go back to Los Angeles.

Right as the pizzas arrived, phones were being exchanged so that everyone could get all the numbers they were missing. Soon enough, they all had each other’s numbers and they could directly transition to eating dinner. It was a much needed moment as the triplets got to know the girls better, especially in an environment they were familiar with.

After they had finished eating, Alex only had one idea in her mind which she decided to share:

“What do y’all think about watching a movie? Best way to end the day and it doesn’t require any energy.”

Although Lily felt tired, she agreed as she saw that Nick, Matt and Chris were down for it. The girls offered them to look at their DVDs since it would be quicker to choose than using a streaming platform. The triplets couldn’t help but notice the amount of Disney movies they had and one in particular caught Nick’s eye as he took it out to admire it.

“You have Edward Scissorhands?!”

“Yep”, Alex replied with a smile. “One of our favourites!”

To this, Nick immediately decided that they needed to watch it without any care as to what his brothers would say – they would never turn down Nick’s favourite movie and even less if the girls loved it too. The group therefore settled on the couch as Lily put on the movie. She threw multiple blankets on the couch in case anyone needed one during the evening and apologised when she actually hit Matt with two of them at the same time, to which he playfully threw one of the small pillows at her when she went to sit down.

As the movie started, the excitement could be seen on Nick’s face. He was always over the moon when he’d watch it and being able to have this in common with his new friends was a bonus. Although Lily loved Edward Scissorhands, the tiredness was catching up to her. She hated the fact that she was close to falling asleep in front of this masterpiece, especially when it had only been half an hour since the movie had begun. It didn’t help that the couch was extremely comfortable and the blankets were keeping her warm.

Soon enough, Lily was actually asleep. Because of the dim lights in the room, it wasn’t noticeable by the others that her eyes had closed and they only realised when the movie eventually ended. As Alex saw that Lily wasn’t moving when they turned on the lights and decided to all go to sleep, she nudged her side to notify her of the end of the movie. Alex had hesitated to let her sleep on the couch but when she remembered that the triplets were here, she thought it would be more practical to have Lily sleep upstairs. Therefore, Lily was gently woken up and she apologised for having fallen asleep. They all reassured her that they didn’t mind, especially Matt who knew that driving was pretty tiresome sometimes. Before they went upstairs, Lily asked about the sleeping arrangements as the triplets would split between Alex’s room and the couch. They quickly chose that Matt and Chris would be together in Alex’s room – as they were used to that back home because of Chris never sleeping in his own room – while Nick would be alone on the couch, thus giving him the space he deserved. Therefore, while Alex accompanied Matt and Chris upstairs, Lily prepared the couch for Nick. As she still looked tired, Nick offered to help Lily but she refused as he was the guest here.

“Thank you for that.”

“No problem, have a good night and make yourself at home. Come get me or Alex if you need anything.”

“That’s kind thanks but I’ll let you both rest, don't worry.” Nick waved at Lily as she was leaving him downstairs. “Sleep well too!”

The pair smiled at each other before Lily went upstairs to join Alex. She arrived at the same time as the blonde bid Matt and Chris goodnight so she did the same as they had left the door open to wish her a good night too. Lily then went to her room and found Alex already on her bed as she couldn’t wait for a sleepover with her best friend, although it would be all sleep and no chit-chatting.

“I still cannot believe we have the Sturniolo triplets in our house bro.”

“No but same,” Lily agreed. “Although it feels less like that, you know? We’re actually becoming friends with them.”

“You and Matt already were I guess but yeah, I’m just scared we’re gonna wake up tomorrow and they’re not here.”

“Don’t worry babe”, Lily assured as she slid under the covers. “They can’t get rid of us now.”

Alex snickered at that before hugging Lily and wishing her a good night, to which Lily said the same back to her, before both girls drifted off to sleep.

~~~

I guess I did have a nap before sleeping, Lily thought as she was already awake at nine o’clock in the morning. Turning to the side, she saw that her best friend was still sound asleep and would be for a while. No point in staying in bed in case I wake her up. Lily then decided to head downstairs after a quick journey to the bathroom to do her morning routine. However, as she arrived in the living-room, the girl almost let out a gasp as she saw someone on her couch. Oh my fucking– fuck, she internally swore as she had almost forgotten that Nick was sleeping there. Damn, where do I go now? She wondered as she eyed the kitchen that was the only room available at the moment. Lily knew that the triplets might not wake up soon enough so she decided that she had time to prepare a nice breakfast for everyone, given that she hadn’t cooked for them yesterday evening. What’s something everyone could enjoy? And something I also make easily enough? Lily hesitated as she tried to quietly rummage through the cupboards and the fridge to look amongst the ingredients she had. She quickly chose to make pancakes as it was a basic recipe for her and everyone would be able to customise it to their liking.

~~~

Half an hour later, Lily was almost done with the batter as she had prepared enough to feed a family of ten. She was confident in her cooking skills and hoped that the triplets would like her food as much as Alex did. Focused on heating the pancakes, Lily hadn’t noticed someone quietly slipping in the kitchen until they talked to her.

“Hey”, a soft voice called. “What are you doing up this early?”

“Oh my–” Lily did a 180° so fast that Matt thought she would end up dizzy. “Shit, you scared me.”

“Sorry, didn’t mean to…”

“No worries bro. I was too deep in thought, my spatial awareness is at its lowest right now.” Lily turned back to keep an eye on the food before continuing. “You slept well?”

“I did, thanks. You?”

“Yep, everything’s good.”

“What are you making?” Matt wondered as he walked to stand next to the girl. “Smells great.”

“Pancakes”, Lily replied while flipping them. “Please tell me y’all like that. I can always make you something else if needed.”

“That’s perfect, don’t worry.” Matt leaned back on the counter with a smile to reassure Lily. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to though. I’ve always loved cooking for Alex and this is a recipe I mastered long ago so I’m just showing off to be honest.”

“I’ll be the judge of this so-called mastering then.”

“Wanna try one now?” Lily offered as she was finishing the first pancakes out of many more that would come. “No one would know you got an early tasting.”

“How can I refuse when you’re offering?” Matt rhetorically asked as he gladly accepted the fork Lily gave him.

While he was chewing, Lily turned off the heat as she turned sideways to observe Matt’s reaction. He looked neutral so she had no idea how to interpret him. However, as he quickly took another bite, Lily relaxed with a sigh before switching her gaze from his face to his attire. She couldn’t help but notice that he was wearing the usual pyjamas he would wear in videos: a basic short-sleeved white t-shirt that allowed his tattoos to be visible with blue plaid sweatpants, in which he does look good even when he just woke up.

“This is so freaking good!” Matt whisper-yelled of excitement, bursting Lily’s bubble of daydream. His eyes almost twinkled as he held a smile on his face. “You can be proud of yourself Lily, you truly mastered pancakes.”

“Thanks Matt, that means a lot.” Lily had always known she was a good cook – not deserving of a Michelin star though she was above average for certain recipes – but hearing those compliments from Matt made her feel special. “Will Chris and Nick like that, you think?”

“Of course, no way they’re not eating that.” As he finished his pancake, Matt thought for a bit. “I might actually tell them you’re the worst cook ever just so I can have more.”

“You will have enough for yourself I hope, but I’ll be happy to make some for you anytime again.”

“That’ll be my pleasure.”

As they smiled at each other, Lily and Matt were almost forgetting that anytime might not be for a while as those moments together were only temporary. Soon enough, Matt would go back to Boston with his brothers then to Los Angeles, thus leaving Lily with Alex in Spring Hill. Soon enough, thousands of miles would separate them along with a three hours difference, although they would still be in the same country. But for now, the present was more important and as they both put the near happening reality in the back of their minds, the two friends simply enjoyed the time they currently had together.

Thank you for reading. Votes and comments are always appreciated if you like this story :) The story is co-written w @/little_grapejuice on wattpad

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