#and i mean at least susan gets to grow up

[tossball-stick]

MORE TRANSFEM KIERAN

hii kicks my feet. twirls my hair. does a little spin. i wanted to write these out sooo much sooner but i got sick :(( luckily!! im here now!!!! so today ive decided to share some camp transition hcs. personally i dont actually think she would have the time to transition in the gang.. buuuuut its still nice 2 think about :) maybe later ill make a post about the domestic au ive got for her. smiles big and wide

sean is immediately supportive of her transition. this isnt really cause for suspiscion, sean is also trans of course. until his true intentions are revealed and hes simply staring at a womens fashion catalogue in the undergarments section holding it out to kieran and pointing, "i think youd look good in that one ;)"

eventually kieran is doing some of the ladies workload, she is one of them, after all (though i imagine her true role even post transition would be a little more mixed, like karen, who can be seen going on watch and such). of course this means grimshaw eventually coming by to nitpick her the same way she does for the rest of the women. chastised for not being ladylike enough, or being improper. i imagine susan and kieran get along pretty well, honestly, i can imagine kieran being a very effective little worker bee for her that goes along with whatever she says in an attempt to pass. susan clearly knows about being a woman. kieran wants to be a woman. its perfect!

you would think if i headcanoned bill as gay and kieran as a woman i would believe that bill eventually loses his crush on her. you would be wrong. very wrong. i think it maybe seems that way at first, but realistically bills manner of attraction has simply shifted. with men you can be rough and rowdy and awful and its expected, even when trying to court one, but trying to court a lady? now, thats a long process of wearing her down with charisma, wooing her, being a gentleman. things bill williamson sucks at. really badly. i think he would simply stop making moves on her because he just doesnt know how, but i dont think his actual feelings change even remotely

thusly, people start looking at bill weird the times he gets drunk and does dare to flirt with kieran. i imagine people would offer to have a talk with him about it, but she would just smile and shake her head, because bill stumbling over his words to drunkenly call her pretty was one of the best feelings shes ever had

i doubt hosea and dutch would care. really. i think either way they keep her stationed with the horses. it makes her happy and ultimately she is helping around camp more now. theres no loss of hands to complain about, they werent taking her on jobs anyway

her and molly!! i knowwww molly is saying some shit like "youre clearly just pretending, wearing that skirt with that lipstick" and it very quickly snowballs into convincing arthur to take them out on the town and buying kieran some clothes with at least a little class. maybe they kiss while out there. whos to say

look. all im saying is. if kieran goddamn duffy can become a woman then sadie adler can become a man. and sadie adler fucking haaaaaates that the start of his transition was watching an o'driscoll transition first. and i also think it would be really funny and i wanna torture that tboy some more.

grows her hair out for sure, i think in any other setting she would wear it down more than up, but due to the nature of her chores at camp, shes keeping the hair off the back of her neck

i can imagine mary-beth and her sitting together on a quiet night, kieran listening to her talk about whatever dime novel or bodice ripper she'd been able to get her hands on lately. its nice and all, but shes mostly just listening, shes not much of a reader, and mary-beth is clearly talking like she wants the man. until, out of nowhere, shes bringing up how the savior is always the men, and how, sometimes, it made her even more giddy to picture the "men" with long hair and even more identity protection, and thinking about them being women masquerading as men. seemingly, kieran is a lot more engaged now that mary-beth is talking about being saved by a woman that is stuck looking like a man for whatever reason. of course, mary-beth doesnt miss this little detail. theyre sharing drinks by the end of the night.

i think one of her first gender moments was getting her first skirt of course. but i think it only really hit her when she had to mount branwen sidesaddle for the first time, and get used to riding him like that. it was kinda like learning to ride a horse all over again. it gets branwen involved in her transition as well and i think thatd be crucial for her; bonding with her beloved horse in a new way, being a woman while doing it. even if he wasnt a part of such a big moment for her, i still think she would gush to him about all the womanly things she got to do that day. branwen is always the first to hear when a day goes by and she barely feels like a man the whole time.

i hope this was enough food to keep you and any other transfem kieran enthusiasts fed for a bit ^-^

[jomiddlemarch]

By Yonder Shining Star

He had not expected to begin with a reprimand.

“I don’t bite, you can stop lurking in the doorway,” Dr. Blythe said, not glancing up from the chart she was writing in. Foyle suspected she would have sounded much the same if he’d come upon her while she finished closing an incision after a long surgery, the same wry tone that had a hint of impatience in it. There were few enough female surgeons in England, even fewer egalitarian ex-pat Canadians, so it didn’t take much to infer she must be brilliant and driven, used to those around her finding her an anomaly. An Original, they would have said once in London society and been more accurate perhaps, but not a remark he’d offer if he wanted to get anything helpful from her. That’s why he was here, he reminded himself. It had been a long while since he’d needed reminding about his work.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” he said. “I’m—”

“You did mean to interrupt and you’re Detective Superintendent Christopher Foyle of Hastings,” she said as she laid the pen down. He’d heard her described as “attractive enough” and had wondered enough for whom before he met her. Now, he found himself pinned by her grass green eyes, startled into silence like a green lad, feeling a fool as he hadn’t for years.

Decades really. Sam would burble in wonder to see him struck dumb while Milner would only give a brief and comradely nod of recognition.

“You’re well-informed, Dr. Blythe,” he said.

“You expected that,” she said. “That’s why you’ve come, to pick my brain, to winkle out some piece of information, some cipher that will break the code you can’t. To solve your case. It is a Godawful mess, I’ll give you that. The pathologist’s report was quite detailed. Almost literary.”

“I’ve come to ask for your help,” he said simply. Because he thought she’d prefer it and because it couldn’t think of what else he might have said.

“You might as well sit down. You’ll have to forgive me—I can’t offer you a cup of tea or even a biscuit,” she said. “I haven’t an assistant who sees me fed and watered.”

Something about the way she’d said it was an alert.

“The other surgeons do. Any of the nurses are glad to fix them a cuppa,” Foyle offered.

“I don’t know about glad, exactly, but it’s in that general way. I’m meant to fend for myself. It’s my own fault I’m not much good at fending. I was spoiled, growing up, with our housekeeper Susan. There was never an evening without a little snack prepared and her solution to any problem was the teakettle on the stove and a slice of fresh pie,” she said. She had a square jaw and her auburn hair was sprinkled with grey and tucked back in a practical snood, but there was a certain whimsical nostalgia in her expression. “She was a splendid bustler, our Susan, and that you may tie to, Mr. Foyle. And now I’ve run on and run and you want my help or whatever help you think I can give you, so you may as well begin winkling.”

“You have a way with words,” he said.

“Flattery will get you nowhere with me. I’m by far the least eloquent person in my family. It’s no accident I’m a trauma surgeon,” she said.

“It was an observation,” he replied. “And it’s because of your family I’ve come to speak with you.”

“It’s Walter,” she said, any dry humor entirely gone from her voice, from those arresting green eyes. Saying the name of her brother dead these twenty odd years aged her; Foyle saw the lines her face fell into when she despaired, the nights of grief that never entirely abated. 

“Yes. Because of what he wrote, Dr. Blythe,” he said, wondering if the clarification would bring her any relief. Wondering at himself for thinking of that first. Rosalind, who’d ever been generous, would not begrudge him an interest, a possibility, but he worried what it meant for his duty to the dead men, whose murders he was charged to solve, no matter that other men were dying across the Channel, that he risked making Diana Blythe’s hand unsteady when she held a scalpel or a needle trailing suture. 

“A poem,” she guessed. Hoped? The alternative was most likely one of his letters, perhaps one he’d written to her, one she wouldn’t want to surrender or corrupt by handing it over to be part of a criminal investigation.

“Yes. The poem, the famous one,” Foyle said.

“The Piper,” she said, her color back. “He’d have hated it, positively loathed what happened with that. All the breathless sentiment, the rallying and the women who memorized it, that sickly sweet melody Tremaine wrote for it—I swear it would be tattooed over half of Canada and all of PEI if people thought it was within the bounds of polite society. It’s not even close to his best work, I want you to know—”

“I know. I met him. In the trenches,” Foyle said.

“Fuck,” she said softly. And then, “I beg your pardon, I shouldn’t speak so—”

“Plainly? You can’t imagine I’d take any offense,” Foyle said. “I met your brother only a few days before he died.”

“Before Courcelette.”

“Yes. I was very young and he wasn’t much older, but he’d been fighting for several months longer than I had, maybe a year. I didn’t think anyone could live that long in that hell and still find something worth living for. Could still remember anything beautiful,” Foyle said.

“It was that bad?”

“It was worse,” Foyle said. Something in her face told him she would not challenge this, nor would she make him explain. Rosalind hadn’t done either, which was why he hadn’t cracked up entirely before Andrew was born. “Whatever he wrote to you, it was worse.”

“He didn’t tell us anything. Not even me,” she said. 

“You were close,” he said.

“I thought so. The night before he died, he wrote a letter. To our younger sister Rilla and a friend, Una. She was in love with him, Una, we all knew that, but he didn’t love her that way. I thought we were close, closest to each other over everyone, but he didn’t write to me,” Diana said.

“Perhaps he couldn’t. Perhaps he knew you would be able to tell if he held something back. If he lied to try and protect you,” he said.

“Perhaps. Is that what you did, Detective Superintendent Foyle? Did you lie and keep secrets?” she asked. No one had ever dared before, not Rosalind, who’d admitted once she did not want to know everything about him.

“Christopher. My name is Christopher,” he said. “A long time ago, I was Kit. That was when I knew your brother.”

“I’m Diana. How does Walter’s poem have something to do with a triple murder?”

“There have been five murders thus far,” Foyle said. “It’s complicated, will take some time to explain. There’s a Lyons round the corner, quiet enough this time of night. We might have that cuppa—”

“If there have been five murders and somehow my brother’s poem is crucial to finding the killer, I’ll need something stronger. Bitter will do. I’d offer to stand you a pint, but I imagine that’s not considered ethical,” she said.

“No, nor gentlemanly,” he said, surprising himself.

“We’ll go Dutch,” she said, getting up from her desk and walking around to take down her coat and cram her barely fashionable hat upon her head. The coat flapped around her legs, obscured in a pair of drab tweed trousers, an unremarkable pair of brogues on her feet. She was beautiful.

“We haven’t much time,” she said, passing him at the door.

“I know it’s late. You must have an early surgery tomorrow,” he said.

“Yes, but that’s not what I meant. I ship out in a few weeks,” she said.

“France?”

“France,” she said. “I never wanted to go before. And now I can hardly wait.”

“I won’t waste your time,” he said.

“No, I don’t think you will,” she replied.

[rainintheevening]

Part I – Part II ... Part VII – Part VIII

Not the first winter, nor even the second winter, but the third is hardest, and perhaps that's why it catches him off guard.

Their first is soft, almost reluctant at times, big snowflakes, the tarn like glass, rosy sunsets before tea. A glorious harvest they termed Aslan’s Bounty, means full cellars and storehouses, means feasts by the fire and spiced cider with the fauns.

The second is colder, with deep drifts, and gusty winds, and thick warm cloaks. There is less of a harvest, but with the remains of the first, there is enough to go around.

And Edmund… to Peter at least he seems well enough.

Cold seems to strike into his bones quicker than before, and he never runs out into the snow alone, and some mornings he comes to breakfast with tired eyes and a pinched look that speaks of little sleep and haunted dreams, haunted by things Peter can only make calculated guesses at.

But there are always many candles, and people who need their help, and hot drinks, and books to read, and Lucy curling under his arm on the cushions by the fire, and Peter watches for his smile so he can smile too.

The third winter… the third winter is one of ice. Rain on snow on frozen ground, and stark ice-coated trees, and sun on glittering grounds that makes everyone squint painfully. Sharp, howling winds, that cut like a blade, and icicles hanging everywhere till Peter's making jokes about accidental assassination, and Susan scolds him, and she organises teams to go around knocking them down before they get too big.

The harvest is small too—Narnians still relearning the ways of agriculture, and raiders testing the strength of her defences, now that there are things worth taking from inside her borders again—and as the joy of Christmas fades into the new year, winter hunkers down over them, and Peter feels a growing weight in the long dark of each passing day.

It is those worries over his subjects, he thinks later, that blind him to his brother's troubles. (And he begs Aslan for the eyes to see better, for the knowledge of where to be looking when, so he can care for all of them as they deserve.)

He jars awake one night, to a room quite dark, to the wind beating angry and guttural at the casement, and the rattle of ice against the glass.

He lies still, every sense taking in his surroundings, trying to understand, until a whisper that is not a whisper reaches his ear, and something tugs hard and sharp under his ribs.

Edmund.

Peter is up and out of bed in a moment, knowing without knowing how that Edmund needs him, his brother needs him, and he is quick in the dark, bare feet on ice cold stone shocking him the rest of the way awake, before he tugs open Ed’s door, not bothering to knock.

He is met with a blast of keen, wet wind, and he gasps, hands suddenly shaking as he drags the heavy wooden door shut behind him.

The fire in the hearth has almost gutted out, but Peter can make out the empty rumpled bed, the gaping window, and the slim figure silhouetted against the angry, lowering sky. Peter stumbles across a floor slick with rain and ice to Edmund's side, grabs his arm, yanking him away from the sill.

“Lion's mane, Ed!” he finds himself shouting, as he catches the two open panels and heaves them shut, struggles with the clasp for a moment, finally drops it into place.

It's pitch black, in the shocking hush, Peter is shivering suddenly and violently, and he grabs Ed’s arm again, gentler this time, tugs him in the direction of the hearth.

“Oh, Ed, you're soaking wet! What in blazes were you doing?!”

Edmund still hasn't spoken, when Peter tugs him down beside him on the rug which is blessedly dry, reaches shaky hands to stir the coals, toss on a piece of kindling. A pause before the flame leaps up, and light seems to spill out into the room, warm and golden. Peter puts another stick on for good measure, before he turns to face Edmund who hasn't moved from the half-kneeling, half-sitting position he'd fallen into.

“Ed?”

The cold that fills the room is suddenly less concerning than the chill that lances through Peter's stomach, and he reaches for Ed’s shoulders, sopping wet pyjamas sticking to skin, white clumps of icy pellets dripping off the dark hair hanging in his eyes. Peter feels the trembling start, lays his hand against a painfully white cheek to turn Ed’s face to his.

“Ed?” he says, gentle, gentle, cold fear inside consumed by flame of love, trying to find the eyes he knows so well. “Brother mine?”

Ed's shivering harder now as he looks up, firelight softening his expression, and Peter swallows hard as he sees wild, desperate terror bleed away like the water running down his cheeks, and a spark kindles in Ed’s eyes.

“Oh, Aslan,” he murmurs, and then he is tumbling forward into Peter's arms, and Peter gathers him up, all sopping wet lanky fourteen years of him, and they hold on to each other, as warmth begins to fill the room, as warmth blooms where their chests press together.

Peter doesn't care how wet he's getting, he presses his nose into the ice-coated hair above Ed’s ear, feels the great shuddering of cold and breath and relief and possibly tears too.

“I am here, brother,” he whispers. “I promise. You're safe and well with us. And we're all under Aslan’s care.”

A lump swells in his throat, as the hope of his own words strikes home, something he needed to hear himself, and he knows he doesn't have to be told what has plagued Edmund in the night, they are held in that truth, and though they shiver, that foundation will never be shaken, they need only cling to it as it carries them, and he closes his eyes, lets his own weary tears fall.

“Pete,” Ed whispers, a kind of affirmation.

Neither of them is listening to the wind any longer.

Next

[ryttu3k]

Thoughts on Doctor Who - Boom! Some negativity ahead, maybe a 6/10 overall.

Well that was about as subtle as a sledgehammer XD Yes yes the algorithm is bad, yes yes capitalism is bad, yes yes war industry is bad, yes yes religious extremism is bad. I agree with all that! And tbh there are people who do need that message to be about as subtle as a sledgehammer because they Do Not Get It!

But holy shit, this one made Orphan-55 look subtle XD

(That said, kind of adore the chutzpah of doing the Capitalism Is Bad story in the first season of the show as owned by fucking Disney.)

A… weird aesop at the end. "Blind faith is bad. Also, just because I don't like it, doesn't mean I don't need it, because apparently I need religious people to tell me what to do."

Splice was… odd. Grew up in a warzone, also launches herself into said warzone because Dad sent a weird message. Seems singularly unable to recognise what had happened despite, y'know, growing up in a warzone, but that's okay because Holodaddy mentioned seeing antelopes. I feel she was written to be much younger (like, five-ish), which is an issue with the casting, actually, because as it is she just kind of came across as dense as a sack of bricks. No, stupid child, you do not run into the minefield! I did see commentary about how chilling it was for her to be so easily placated by the AI, though, so that could be a deliberate choice, I guess?

Mundy is okay. Didn't make me go, "Yes, she absolutely needs to be the new companion!", which is a pity, and the whole romantic tension between her and the other dude felt whoppingly out of place. Yes, half the planet is going to blow up but that's okay, her crush likes her back! Hoping that either she's playing someone totally different as companion (like Freema Agyeman and Karen Gillan having smaller roles before being cast as companions, to say nothing of some of the actual Doctors!), or that Mundy actually develops some personality beyond 'romantic yearning', 'Christianity', and 'portents of doom'. That said, if she is playing Mundy again, I do enjoy the idea of Mundy Sunday XD

Last annoyance, promise - lmao god if Moffat's head was any further up his arse he'd be a mobius strip. Villengard (although setting the episode in the 51st century is at least consistent with its destruction), the Anglican Marines, preservation of dead people in incomplete digital formats, the president's wife poem/song thing, even fish fingers and custard. Dude. I know. You're still salty about being replaced as showrunner. Doesn't mean you have to yell about how great your era was by throwing in every single self-congratulatory reference you could think of XD

(That said: I much prefer him writing standalone/double episodes. Do Not let him write arcs or be showrunners, but he certainly can work a single narrative.)

Positive notes: Even if it was as subtle as a sledgehammer, I did enjoy the reveal - that there wasn't actually any war, and it was entirely a self-perpetuated conflict based on algorithm and profit. Like the writing could have handled it better, but the premise was really cool.

Ncuti Gatwa's acting was fantastic. Beautiful tension and stress. Loved him monologuing to Ruby's dead body because if he doesn't talk, he can't think right.

"I'm more explosive than I look - and honey, I know how I look."

"Ruby, I forbid this." "Yeah, good luck with that :)"

"- and frankly, your lifespan sucks." (Just wanted Ruby to go, "Dude. I've been dead for the last ten minutes.")

Continuity

Enjoying the continuation of Ruby's snow.

Susan Twist has appeared again, although I still have no idea what this could be building up to. Much bigger role than some of the earlier ones.

This is Ruby's first alien planet, but The Devil's Chord implies she's been travelling with the Doctor for six months? So this would have to be set before Devil's Chord, or else they've just spent six months in space stations and time travelling on Earth alone.

A lot of emphasis on the Doctor as a father, tying in with his mention of Susan last episode, which also dealt with the familial connection between the Toymaker and Maestro and the whole Pantheon thing, and brought up the stuff with Ruby and her lineage again (the AI glitching out when trying to work out her next of kin, although I feel Moffat forgot that… next of kin doesn't mean 'blood relative'… she has a Mum!). I feel there's definitely going to be something about the Doctor's family in this season as well as Ruby's. The TARDIS identified her as human, but could there be a connection?

Season ranking

As of s40e03:

The Devil's Chord

The Church on Ruby Road

Space Babies

Boom

And on a deeply silly note: I initially heard 'Kastarion' as 'Karstarion' and went :D because BG3 ship mentioned <3

[buckysgrace]

Thirty Three

“Why are we going back so soon?” Max questioned, rolling out of the bed. Her eyes were still puffy, and tear stained. Kim pulled her socks on her feet, glancing towards her mother who was waiting with her bag packed already. Susan sighed, looking a bit frazzled. Kim had a hard time not staring at her swollen cheek.

“We left for a night, not forever. We just needed some space apart. All of us needed to calm down.” Susan pulled at the straps on her bag, trying to focus on the floor instead of her daughter’s questioning gaze.

“Mom, he hit you,” Kim told her, looking at her worried. She still couldn’t figure out if this had been the first time or not, “You should leave him. You don’t deserve that.” She meant it too. She had figured that Billy was old enough. He could come with them if he chose to do so. Susan sighed loudly.

“Kimberly, please. You’re too young to understand. We have to go back.” She was nearing the doorway, waiting for her daughters to join her. Max stared at her stunned and Kim felt the same way, not quite understanding why her mother wasn’t listening to them. 

“Go back? I don’t want to go back,” Max yelled at her, looking frustrated, “He’s mean. He’s mean to all of us, and he doesn’t care. I hate him!” Kim watched Susan’s face grow irritated. Kim didn't understand how she could be so defensive of Neil. Maybe she really was too young to understand the reasons her mom would want to stay with him. None of their protests had seemed to work thus far. Kim was hoping they still had time to convince her. 

“We can’t just leave. We have nowhere to go and there’s no way I can afford a place on my own.” Kim watched her mom for a moment, knowing they had been in far worse positions than they were now. She missed their small apartment in San Diego. Even though it was cramped and they didn’t have much, she’d go back in an instant if it meant getting away from Neil.

“I could help you,” Kim tried to offer, sitting forward on the bed. Max sat up next to her, linking their arms together. Kim squeezed her hand softly, worried she would cry again, “It’s not expensive to live here.” She knew Hawkins was a lot cheaper than what Sand Deigo was. That had to mean something. 

“If we leave, people will ask why,” Susan’s voice was sterner, sounding more bitter as she spoke, “We have no one we know around us. We won’t get any help. I’m not going back to how things were before.” Kim tried to understand what was so bad before in San Deigo. She felt as if she was missing something. She knew that they struggled, but it never seemed that bad to her. 

“Call dad!” Max cried out, looking just as frustrated as Susan did, “He would help us, at least get us out of here. I know he would.” Susan huffed, dropping her bag by the door as she tried to collect herself.

“You don’t know anything about your dad, not in the way I do. All he cares about is his own gain, I won’t ask that man for anything.” Kim watched how her mother’s hands shook as she spoke. It made her sad hearing her mom talk about him like that. Was he the reason she didn’t believe in love? 

“He never hit you though.” Kim spoke up quietly after a moment. Susan stared at her, taking in her words for a moment like she wasn’t quite sure how to respond. Kim didn’t even care about moving back with her dad, she was fearful for her mom. She didn’t want Neil to beat her. 

“Don’t worry about my marriage,” Susan spoke up shortly, “The important thing is that he won’t touch you two. We just need a fresh start.” Kim had heard her say that a hundred different times. They always needed a fresh start. Somewhere new. It would be the same. Neil would be fine for a few months and then it would all start over again. She didn’t know how Billy had lived with him for so long.

Thinking of Billy made her sad. She missed him, she hoped he was okay. She wished she had the chance to call him but didn’t want her mom to be questioning her again. That didn't stop the guilt that was vibrating in her body. She hoped that he understood and that he hadn't been worried for her. She knew that they had to be more careful if they were going to continue to do this. 

She knew that Neil had wanted to hit Max last night and wished her mom wasn’t so afraid to be on her own, “At least think about your options.” Kim tried again as Max squeezed her hand softly. Susan exhaled as she picked up her bag again.

“There’s nothing to think about. I’m not going back to the way things were,” She glanced towards them as she opened the door, “Come on.” Max rose first as she picked up her bag, looking angry as she stomped out of the room. Kim did so slower, following both of them out. She wanted to act like she could understand her mom, but she couldn’t. She didn’t know how she could miss how bad things had been in San Diego. It had to be bad enough that Susan wouldn’t leave an abuser. The thought made her feel guilty, like she was supposed to know and do something to help.

Max was waiting for her when she stepped out into the hot sun. She leaned against her sister as she walked, “I don’t want to go back.” Max told her pitifully. Kim squeezed her hand around her shoulder.

“We’ll find a way to make it work. We always do.” She wanted to believe her words, but she wasn’t sure. Billy was eighteen, he could leave whenever. Then what would happen? Would Neil hit her mom more? Kim only had one more year of highschool to finish before she could disappear, but then what about Max? What about her mom? She didn’t know what would happen to them once they were eventually all gone.

“Do you think Billy is okay?” Kim thought it was odd how Max had taken a sudden change towards the older boy. It made her feel like they were all actually connected in some way now. Not as the happy family her mom and Neil wanted, but something more.

“Yeah,” Kim shuffled with her feet as she lingered her hand on the car door. Susan was waiting inside, looking at them expectantly, “I think he’ll be okay.” It was more so to convince herself that he was fine. She was preparing herself for the guilt she’d feel if she got there, and he looked worse. 

They settled in the car in silence as Kim was torn between worrying about Billy and figuring out how she could convince her mom to leave Neil. They could make it on their own, she was sure of it. She just needed a way to show that to her mom. She couldn't think of anything, and Max seemed to be in a similar dilemma from how tightly her eyebrows were pulled together. 

Kim was counting the seconds as they pulled into the driveway. She was chewing on her nails, something she didn’t usually do, from how nervous she felt. Her insides felt like they were slowly melting away as time dragged by. Neil’s car was gone, and she was more than happy for that. Billy's car was still parked in the usual spot and that made her even happier. She had been worried that he would've disappeared after everything that had happened. All she wanted to do was make sure that he was okay.

Max was the first one out, forgetting her bag as she made her way up the steps. She took two at a time and Kim found herself furrowing her eyebrows together as she grabbed both of their bags. She wanted nothing more than to do the same. Instead, she took her time and walked up slowly behind her mother. She didn’t want to be suspicious, but at the same time she had wanted to be the first one to see Billy. To make sure that he was alright. She never plucked up the courage to call him last night and now she was feeling guilty and as if something had gone terribly wrong. 

Max left the door open as they crossed inside. She was bouncing on her feet in the living room before she made her way towards the kitchen, near their rooms. Kim followed suit, glancing around to see how everything looked as if it was back to normal. It was like last night had not happened. She wasn’t sure how to feel about it. 

“Billy!” Max surprised both of them as they lost their contact and she catapulted into his arms. She hugged him tightly, squeezing around his waist as he stood there with his arms up in surprise. He was looking down at her stunned, like he didn’t quite know what to do. Kim wasn’t really sure what to do either. She had never seen Max act this way around Billy. She knew that she had been upset last night but she hadn’t expected her to act like this .

Susan seemed surprised too as she laid her keys across the kitchen island. Max rocked back and forth, holding onto Billy tightly until he eventually placed his hands on her shoulders gently. He still looked awkward, tense even as he wrapped his large arms around the little girl. Kim wanted nothing more than to join them but was too aware of her mother’s gaze cutting into her. Kim pretended to fiddle with her bag, walking slowly towards her room. She left Max's bag near her bedroom floor, lingering in the hallway for as long as she could. She drank in his image as she passed by, making sure there were no new marks. The only thing she could notice was a small bruise on his cheekbone.

She walked inside of her room, feeling overwhelmed as she set her bag down on her bed. She could feel her fingertips twitching as she thought about going back out there and wrapping herself up in his arms. She wanted to hold him, to kiss him. To demand that he never leave her again. She placed the bag down before she walked out again. She didn’t care that she wouldn’t be able to touch him, she wanted to be near him. She rounded the corner again, noting how his hair looked messier than usual from the back. She wondered how he slept, if he struggled to find sleep as much as she had. Her eyes traced over the curve of his back as she lingered in the hallway behind them. 

“Did he go to work?” Susan was asking softly as she approached the blonde boy and her youngest daughter. Max was no longer holding onto Billy, but she was lingering near his side. It nearly made Kim sick, thinking about how Max cared about her big brother. Kim wondered where she had gone so wrong to get their relationship twisted. 

“No,” Billy said softly, “He said he had to go grab something from town. He wasn't mad this morning.” He added at the end, glancing towards Max with a small smile on his face. Max seemed to relax a bit but still stayed glued to his side. Kim was still surprised that he had let her hug him at all. He didn't like to be touched and his relationship with Max still seemed to be rocky. It felt like something had changed between all of them. 

“Yeah, I spoke with him on the phone this morning. He seemed to have calmed down.” Susan lingered in the kitchen as she stared at the neat table inf front of her. It was put back together like nothing had happened last night. It was odd, almost like everything had been a bad nightmare. Kim felt her eyes lingering near Billy again, knowing that Neil hadn't been the one to clean everything up. 

Kim felt like it was too weird to sit around and talk about Neil as if it was only a small hiccup that he had done. Like he hadn’t punched his son in the nose or hit his wife at the dining room table. She didn’t understand how her mom could excuse a man hitting her but not excuse their father, who had an addiction. She turned again, walking away from the other three as she went back to her room. She shut the door softly, looking around as she tried to understand why they were so easily going to forgive him. She could understand Billy, he really didn't have another choice. She felt like her mom still had other options, even if the other options didn't include a neat picket fence. 

She sat at the edge of her bed, feeling overwhelmed again as she played with the bandage on her hand. It no longer throbbed, but it still had a gnarly gash on it. She bit her lip, feeling proud that she still had proof that something had happened last night. It made her feel less crazy, less like she had imagined everything last night. 

The sound of her door opening drew her away from her thoughts. She looked up, suddenly finding herself rising to her feet as Billy shut the door behind him. It was like she was being pulled towards him, all of her anger towards Neil suddenly forgotten as Billy became the only thing she could think of.  She stared at him for a second, inspecting the curve of his face and the color in his eyes. She exhaled slowly, not feeling like she needed air at the moment. 

“Hi,” She whispered out breathlessly as he stood in front of her. Her heart was beating so hard, her nerves twisted as she stared at the golden boy in front of her. He took a step forward first, wrapping his arms around her waist and picking her clear up off of the floor. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, breathing in his scent as she nuzzled her face in the crook of his neck, “I missed you.” It sounded so wrong to speak the words but she meant them. His grip just tightened around her. She liked hugging him, she realized. He was warm, he made her feel safe.

“Missed you too,” Billy inhaled deeply, breathing her in. Her toes brushed against the floor as he slowly sat her back on the floor. His arms stayed around her waist as his nose brushed against the side of her face. He tilted his face down, pressing his lips against hers so softly. She consumed the taste of cigarettes and beer happily as her lips moved against his in awe. He moved his hands towards her face, cupping her cheeks in his hands as he moved his lips against hers with more force, “Missed you so much, Red.” He pecked her lips repeatedly as she began to pull away, her heart racing from the nickname as she stared up at him.

“We can’t,” She tried to catch her breath as he caressed her soft face in his rough hands, “My mom, she’s suspicious. I think she’s going to be watching us.” He frowned as he looked at her, his eyes drinking in her features. 

“Why would she be suspicious?” He questioned her, pushing her red hair out of her face. She didn’t know why her heart was hammering so hard in her chest. She couldn’t understand why she wanted to be so close to him all the time. She watched him for a second.

“She said because of the way you were helping me. Maybe it was before that, I don’t know. I just don’t want to get caught. We have to tone it down.” Kim nodded, watching Billy as he traced his thumb across her bottom lip. It tickled a bit around her mouth as she continued to watch him. It was still so hard to read him, she wished she could know what he was thinking. She wondered if she should explain to him why she didn't call. She decided against it, thinking that he wouldn't care. 

“Shit,” He looked at her, his eyebrows furrowing a bit, “What do we do?” He looked at her unsure, slowly dropping his hands away from her face. She suddenly wished that she hadn't said anything. She missed his touch already, feeling the coldness seeping in around her. 

“I don’t know, I guess draw her attention away somehow,” Kim shrugged as she bit down on her bottom lip. Billy looked unsure too, “I think she’ll let up in a few days. We just shouldn’t be seen around each other.” She hated the idea of that but with as much as their parents worked she figured they could make it somehow. 

“Right,” He spoke slowly, “Let’s not worry about it right now, okay? Everything will go back to normal soon.” He kissed her again, his lips moving against hers slowly. She sighed softly against his lips, her body pressing closer towards him. He chuckled softly against her lips.

“He didn’t hurt you, did he?” She asked softly, almost afraid of the answer. His expression hardened as he nodded to answer her. She wanted him to confirm with his words that Neil hadn't touched him again. She still didn't feel right that he had been left here all alone. 

“How’s your hand?” He tried to distract her as he picked her hand up gently. She watched as he inspected her. She felt the electricity racing up her arm from the feeling of their hands touching. She wondered if he could feel the same sparks that she did.

“A little sore but it’s fine,” She replied, glancing back down at the bandage that was still covering her hand. She had changed the bandage this morning and thoroughly inspected it to make sure she had no infections, “All thanks to you.” She praised him gently, his blue eyes flickered up to hers in astonishment. She bit her lip softly to keep from smiling.

“Good, I need that hand,” He chuckled softly, “Do you think she’s going to leave him?” Billy asked softly. Kim sat back down on the bed, scooting over so he could join her. He followed after a moment, still looking unsure as he glanced towards the door. 

“No,” Kim answered honestly, “She can’t afford to buy a house on her own. I don’t know if she’d want to leave him honestly.” She didn’t like how bitter she sounded. She couldn’t understand what her mother was going through at the moment. She just still couldn't understand how Neil was the best choice for all of them.

“He’ll do it again,” Billy looked at her honestly, “She knows that right?” He tilted his head and she thought of what he had said of his mother and how he stopped his father last night. He was finally big enough to do so. Yet, as much as Neil hit him, Billy had never tried to hit back once. 

“I think she’s hoping he won’t,” She hesitated as she looked at him, “I’m scared.” She admitted slowly. Billy nodded in agreement. He took her good hand softly, rubbing her thumb across her skin softly. She felt herself relaxing against his touch and wished she could curl up against him again. 

“Don’t be scared,” Billy told her softly, “Everything will be okay. We’ll get through this together.” He promised. She wanted to believe him, but she didn’t know how things could work out when they were such a mess already. She nodded, pretending like it was fine for a few minutes.

A knock drew them apart and Kim feared the door would open. She didn’t know how she’d explain them being in a room alone again to her mother. She felt lucky when she only spoke, “Neil is here. I think we all need to talk in the living room.” Her mother’s voice didn’t sound troubled at all. Kim furrowed her eyebrows softly, glancing at Billy’s withdrawn expression. He took a large step away from her, much to her dismay.

“I’ll be out in a minute.” She spoke up, watching Billy for a second as she waited for the footsteps to retreat. She looked at the blonde boy with desire, wishing he would pick her up and hold her again.

“I’ll see you out there,” Billy put his hands in his pockets as he thought, “I’m sure it’s nothing.” He nodded in confirmation. She believed him, knowing he knew Neil a lot better than the rest of them. However, she had seen how easily he had changed moods last night. She didn’t want to be a part of that again. It was scary, no matter how hard she tried to hide it.

She followed him after a few minutes to keep from looking suspicious. Billy was lazily sprawled out on the couch next to Max, which left an open spot for Kim between her sister and mother. She took it, tucking her hair behind her ear as she ignored how Neil watched her. It sent shivers up her back and not in a good way. It made her uncomfortable. She was sure he would like nothing more than to be able to hit her, spank her or however else he wanted to call it. She nestled between her mom and sister, clutching her injured hand towards herself as he began to speak. It felt awkward, forced. 

“My behavior last night,” He looked mainly towards Susan but spared the two younger girls a glance, “Was not excusable. I shouldn’t have let my anger get to me like that. I want to make it up to us, to show you all that I am a good father. We are a good family. I promise you.” Kim felt her eyes going towards Billy, looking at how stiff he was sitting. She wondered if this was the same way he’d apologize to his son every time he beat him. Always promising to change but never able to do so. 

"You hit my mom," Max's blue eyes held onto his, nonwavering to show him that she wasn't scared of him. Kim felt her hand twitch and fought the urge to reach for her little sister's hand. She was afraid that Neil would try and swing at Max again. Max wasn't scared, but she was small. Kim thought of the damage Neil had done towards Billy and couldn't imagine what would happen if he hit Max that hard, "You're an ass." The air in the room turned cold and bitter. She noticed Billy stiffening, his hands moving to the side of the couch like he was preparing to stand up and defend her again. Susan shot Max an exasperated look as the lines in her face turned to worry. Neil chuckled.

"I know I am. I'm working to fix myself; I promise. It won't happen again, I won't hit your mother, " Kim watched his lips move, thinking about how he said nothing about Billy. She thought about speaking up, mentioning that Billy shouldn't be hit either. She couldn't find the courage to do so as Neil's blue eyes sliced into her again. He was looking at her differently and it was making the nerves in her body twist and turn, "I think I know a way for us to start over again." 

“What do you have in mind?” Susan spoke up so softly, so vulnerable that it made Kim’s heart hurt. She wished that she wouldn’t give in so easily. She wished that she didn’t see so much of herself in her mom. Max mirrored her stunned expression as she stared at their mom. She couldn’t blame her. Kim was sure that Neil would’ve punched Max the same way he did Billy.

“Brown County State Park, it’s a few hours away. We could go after the fourth.” Kim glanced at Max, thinking about how excited she had been for the Fun Fair. Kim felt her eyebrows pinching together as she thought about camping. She didn’t mind the outdoors, but she also didn’t like bugs. The three of them were quiet. Max looked a bit intrigued, but Kim could tell that she was still angry. 

“Are there lodges?” Her mom asked, sounding uncertain and Kim was sure her mom was thinking the same thing. Billy began to bounce his foot, clearly not too overjoyed by the idea. Max was the only one who looked excited. Kim remembered the last time they had been told they’d be going on vacation ended up being their permanent residence. Kim didn’t think they could afford to move again. Neil didn’t make nearly as much here as what he did in California. He had put everything into moving into some shitty town.

“No, I want to build a tent.” Max looked at her sister for support but all Kim could do was blink back. Building a tent sounded terrible in her opinion. She would much rather stay in a lodge, with some sort of AC. 

“You could build a tent if you wanted,” Neil smiled kindly at the younger girl, making Kim’s stomach curl up in disgust. She didn’t like how charismatic he was at the time. Like everything was already back to normal, “But we will have lodges. I thought we could get two rooms.” 

“I think that would be lovely, Neil,” Susan smiled genuinely, “I think it would be a good way to start over.” She nodded along, glancing towards Kim. Kim did her best to keep quiet, unsure of what she would even say at this moment. 

“Sounds like fun,” She nodded along, not wanting to be the only one that was throwing a fit at the moment. She tried to catch Billy’s eye but he continued to watch his father, a bored expression planted on his face. She could remember him talking about camping with Neil before. She wondered if they had ever ventured out this far from California before, “I’ll just need to know the dates to take off of work.” She felt uncomfortable with the way Neil was watching her, like she was a completely different person. She didn’t know if Tommy had ruined the image of her being perfect and single. She gulped softly, knowing Tommy wasn’t the one to mess with the image of her at all.

“Alright, I’ll get it confirmed and tell you,” Neil’s eyes felt like glass as he slowly turned away. She could feel her heart beating nervously as she wondered if he was suspicious too. He was acting differently around her and she didn’t like it. She was never comfortable with him before but at least then he didn’t act like he hated her. There was something different in his eyes when he looked towards her now, “I think this will be a good way to start over.” He smiled and she felt herself sinking deeper into her seat. He had said the same thing when he had ripped them out of California. She played with the hem of her shorts, willing for the conversation to be over with so she could do anything else. Her mom crossed the room, placing a big kiss on his cheek. Kim felt a sinking feeling inside of her. 

Max’s small hand slipped against her injured one, softly as she squeezed it. Kim looked down at the younger girl curiously, looking at the hopefulness behind her eyes. Kim knew how confusing this was for her and couldn’t imagine how it felt for her younger sister. She smiled back, wanting to mirror her mom suddenly. She could pretend that everything would be okay, only for Max. She turned softly, looking as Billy stood and crossed the room as if he had nothing to say. She felt a pang in her heart, willing him to look at her again but it never came.

He was a lot better at pretending that there was nothing between them than what she was.

///////////////

She put her book down confused, listening for a moment as she heard the soft tapping against her window again. She slid off of the bed, making her way over and wondering if Addi was dragging her out somewhere again. She began to plan her speech on denying her friend, knowing she wasn't going to sneak out again for a long time. She didn't want to get in trouble with Neil again. She broke into a smile when she peered down at the blonde boy standing underneath her window. 

“Summer camp, huh?” Billy looked up at her from the ground outside of her window. She grinned down at him resting her cheek against her hand as she rested on the window ledge, “Can I come up?” Kim nodded, scooting aside so he could pull himself up. She stood back, watching how the muscles in his hands and arms contracted as he pulled himself inside with ease.

He grunted as he pushed himself inside her window and gently toppled towards the floor. She reached out with her good hand to help him up, but he ignored the gesture and stood on his own. She slowly lowered her hand, pretending to brush her hand across her nightgown so she didn’t feel so embarrassed.

“I’ve never been camping before,” Kim admitted, watching as he began to pull his shirt over his head. Her eyes lingered against his tan skin. She realized now what he had come here to do as he began to shimmy out of his pants. She sat back down on her bed, not quite ready to get naked yet, “Is it fun?” She asked him, looking away with burning cheeks as he pulled his boxers down.

“Yeah, this won’t really be camping though. I mean it’ll be like a little motel.” He sat on her bed, scooting until he was facing her. He smirked as his hands tracing across her exposed skin. She smiled softly, a bit nervous as she watched his actions. He gripped at the hem of her nightgown, beginning to pull it over her pale skin.

“It’s weird that they’re back together,” Kim admitted as he undressed her slowly, “Don’t you think?” He caressed her curves, his eyes lingering on her breasts. It had only been a night but it felt like it had been so much longer than that. Her body craved him. 

“I know a way to make them permanently stay apart,” He chuckled as he dipped his hands between her thighs, rubbing his fingers between her pussy slowly. She gaped, rolling her hips up to meet his fingers, “Might scar a few people.” He smirked as she tried not to think about how suspicious her mom was already. He slipped a finger inside of her slowly.

“Billy,” She gasped softly, moving her hips in unison with his finger. He kissed down her neck softly, nibbling against her collarbone as he lowered himself between her soft thighs. His blonde curls touched against her skin as he dipped his face between her legs and licked at her wet heat. She sighed in awe, rolling her hips up softly as he licked against her wet folds, “Oh god.” She whispered softly as she tugged at his hair. He curled his finger inside of her walls, fingering her slowly. 

“You taste so good,” He whispered between her legs, his warm air fanning against her pussy as he looked up at her. She stared down into his dilated eyes, and glanced over the slick on his lips. Her whole body warmed at his words and she observed the way he dipped his head back between her thighs and licked her cunt slowly. She took a ragged breath, gripping her sheets as he attacked her with his mouth. He slid another finger inside of her as he built a rhythm with his mouth. She felt her back arching up as her head rested against the pillows, her mind forgetting everything but the feeling of his tongue along her folds and clit, “So fucking good for me.” He whispered against her skin. 

“All for you,” She hissed out at the feeling of him circling his tongue around her clit. Her stomach turned in pleasure as she felt her thighs pressing against his ears as the feeling of his tongue overtook her. His tongue massaged her sweet cunt as his fingers curled deep inside of her, pressing into her far enough that she could feel the cool feeling of his rings, “Fuck.” She cursed, her hips snapping forward. He pulled his mouth away with a smirk.

“Such a dirty little mouth,” Billy tsked as he moved his fingers inside her faster. She was so wet, squeezing around his fingers as he pumped into her roughly. She was breathing hard, her face warm as Billy criticized her, “I think that makes you a bad girl.”

“No,” She whined softly as he stuck his tongue out and licked between her folds, collecting her slick. She sighed in awe, spreading out against the bed sheets as he fucked her with his fingers. No matter how good she felt at the moment, she still didn’t want to be called bad, “I’m good, I’m your good girl.” She promised.

“Good girls don’t curse and only good girls get to cum.” He pulled his glistening lips away from her wet cunt, the movements of his fingers stalling inside of her wet heat. She squealed softly, trying to wiggle her hips to push him back inside. He was staring at her in amusement, like he enjoyed seeing her beg and plead for him.

“I am a good girl,” She whined, nodding her head quickly to confirm it, “I’m sorry, didn’t mean to curse.” She breathed out hard, her chest rising as she stared at the blue eyed boy between her legs. He smirked, his lips trailing against her inner thighs. He slid a third finger inside of her, stretching her out slowly as he curled them in unison. She licked her lips, sinking in the feeling of his fingers moving between her legs. 

“S’okay, I know it feels good. You take my fingers so well,” He praised, watching how she stretched around his thick digits. She rocked her hips forward in awe, feeling his fingertips press against the bundle of nerves. She whined out softly, her hips jerking again as he stuck his tongue out flat and licked up her pussy. She felt her eyes rolling back in her head, her legs twitching as her thighs pressed tighter against Billy’s ears. He hummed softly, the vibration traveling up her body, “My own little whore.” He breathed out, his eyes even darker as he looked up at her again.

“Yes,” She moaned as her fingers curled in his blonde locks, “Oh, oh god, Billy.” She found herself chanting, biting down on her hand as she rolled her hips up against his mouth. She squealed into her hand, trying to muffle the sounds as best as she could while she clamped down around his fingers and reached her orgasm. She felt her toes curling in pleasure and she bit down on her hand harder, trying to muffle the sounds as best as she could.

Billy never helped to keep her quiet. He continued to lick at her wet folds, curling his fingers up against her slowly as she rode out her high. Her thighs continued to shake as he slowly pulled his fingers out, one by one. He looked up at her again, keeping eye contact as he licked his fingers clean. He slowly slid his tongue around each digit, circling slowly as he savored the taste of her on his tongue. She could feel her chest warming from the filthiness of it all.

“Better than candy,” Kim tried to ignore him as her face went red again. She giggled softly, resting her legs up around him as he sat up with a smirk on his face, “Turn around.” She felt her eyebrow raising as she watched him. She didn’t mind being on her knees for him, she just thought that maybe she’d be able to see him after he had been away from her for what felt like forever. Still, she didn’t say anything as she slowly turned and got comfortable. He adjusted her hips pushing her face down towards her pillows as she suddenly felt hidden away from him.

“Okay?” She asked softly as she felt him crawl behind her. Her core was twitching in anticipation as she thought of how good his cock would feel inside her in a moment. He spread her folds slowly as he placed his tip at her entrance. She inhaled deeply at the sensation of him stretching her walls and filling her slowly.

“More than okay,” He groaned softly as he caressed her hips and held her up against him. She hid her face in her pillow, trying to control her breathing as she hid her moans. She was doing her best to be cautious of how loud she was being. It was hard. He felt so good inside of her, “You squeeze around my cock so good, baby.” She nodded in response, half dazed from how good she felt at the moment.

“So big.” She breathed out against her pillow. She felt her eyelids fluttering in awe as he slowly pulled back and pushed into her again. She squealed, giggling softly as she let her hands wander across the smooth sheets underneath her. 

“Y’know,” Billy pulled her hair behind her shoulder as he leered over top of her, “Sometimes couples renew their vows.” She felt her eyebrows furrowing as she turned to look at him in confusion.

“Yeah?” She breathed out, trying to push her hips back against him. He kept her still, pressing down on her upper back hard to keep her ass stuck in the air, “What about it?” She breathed out, wanting him to get to the point so he’d move. He leaned down, inhaling her scent as he whispered huskily in her ear.

“Maybe this time I’d get the chance to fuck you in that cute little bridesmaid dress,” He bit on her earlobe, pulling softly as she moaned in his revelation, “I would’ve bent you over that church pew and taken you right there if I could’ve.” She moaned wantonly, forgetting she should be staying quiet as she felt herself squeezing around him. She couldn’t help but picture the day and the dirty images that followed his words.

“Billy,” She warned softly as he moved his hips forward slowly, her pussy swallowing around his thick length, “So bad.” Was all she could mumble as he was grinding his hips into her slowly. She rolled her eyes back softly, biting down on her pillow to keep from mewling. 

“Oh, come on,” Billy was rubbing his hands up her curves, his face in the crook of his neck, “You wouldn’t have let me fuck you in there? With that cute little dress, you wore. God, I wanted you so bad.” He grunted out slowly and her mind began to race as she thought about how long ago that was. He pulled his hips back, pulling all the way back until only his tip remained in her. A whine still left her mouth even though he slammed back into her a few seconds later. She sighed, forgetting her thoughts as her mind turned to focus on his hard dick moving inside of her.

“I would’ve,” She admitted, knowing it was true. It probably didn’t matter when it had happened, she still would’ve let Billy take her whenever and wherever he wanted, “You would’ve fucked me so good.” She repeated, hoping he would’ve teased her for cursing this time. His hand cupped the flesh of her backside as he began a steady rhythm. She didn’t know how she had lived before without feeling him daily. 

“Mhm, I know,” He breathed out hard as his hips snapped forward against hers, “Because you’re my little dirty whore. Look at you, all desperate for your brother's cock.” He leaned back on his knees, watching how she engulfed his hardening length. She cried out, drooling onto her pillow as the pleasure overtook her. She was nodding, agreeing to whatever he said as long as he didn’t stop making her feel good. 

He leaned down again, tugging on her hair and bringing her up towards him. Her mouth was parted as she moaned out in awe, staring up at him with big doe eyes. He observed her for a minute before he spoke again, “You’re my good little cock slut aren’t you?” His smokey breath coated her lips as his hips snapped forward, his tip pressing against her g-spot. Her toes curled as she cried out.

“Yes!” She whined, listening to the way her wooden bed was scraping against the floor. The sound of the two of them was filthy as it bounced off of her walls and surrounded the room. She was a moaning mess but was doing her best to keep her mouth shut so she wasn’t too loud. The last thing they needed was for Max to come and investigate. She didn’t need anyone else to be suspicious of them. 

“You gonna cum on my cock?” He whispered against the crook of her neck, licking her soft skin. She mewled as he pounded into her faster, his hand snaking around her waist to feel the bulge pressing in her stomach each time he pushed back into her. She was nodding frantically, her mind turning fuzzy as his dick hit that sweet spot inside of her each time. 

“Yes, oh god please let me,” She whined as his lips brushed over her sensitive skin, “Want you to cum inside.” She pleaded, her cheek dragging alongside her pillow as he rammed her back down on his hard cock. She was drooling, her breathing becoming more intense as he brought her towards her high. 

“Be a good girl, come on my cock baby,” He snapped his hips forward harder, keeping the same pace as he held her in place, “Come for me, wanna feel that pretty pussy squeezing me.” She bit down on her pillow hard, the case completely soaked in her drool as her legs shook around him. The pillow muffled her cries as she came around him. His hips were drilling into her harshly as he chased his own high, his groans filling the room and dancing against her ears like sweet music.

He pushed forward hard, almost toppling over on top of her as he filled her with his sticky fluid. She squeaked softly at the feeling, kicking her feet against the soft mattress softly while he smacked her bottom. She sighed in relief, enjoying the feeling of being sticky and full of his cock. He chuckled as he sat up slowly, his large hands tracing over her curves before he smacked her bottom again.

“Ow.” She gasped as she sat up a bit, trying to push her messy hair out of her face to look at him better. He smirked, pulling out of her slowly despite her protests. Her brows furrowed at the feeling of him spreading her cheeks far apart before he dipped his face back between her legs. He licked at her folds, around her clit and into her entrance as he swept up what remained of them. She was moaning again, the warm feeling spreading through her body. Before she could enjoy it too much he was leering over her again, pulling her lips apart with his fingers.

She stared up at him, feeling a bit high as she slowly opened her mouth and stuck her tongue out. He let the mixture of the two of them drip slowly from his mouth before cascading onto her tongue. She tried not to think of how filthy it was, how incredibly turned on that she was tasting the two to of them mixed together. She swallowed slowly, not breaking eye contact as she savored the taste of them on her tongue.

“Jesus,” Billy moaned as he watched her, collecting the part that had slipped down the corner of her lips. He pushed it into her mouth quickly, swirling his fingers around against her cheeks and the roof of her mouth to make sure she hadn’t missed any, “You’re like a fucking dream.” Billy sighed, watching her with his intense blue eyes. 

“I am?” She questioned breathlessly as she slowly rolled onto her back, stretching her legs out in sweet relief from being cramped for too long. She was hoping he would curl up next to her, but he stayed on his knees in the middle of the bed. She scooted over towards the edge, making a point to show that there was enough room for the two of them.

“My favorite dirty dream.” He smirked as he clamped his hand over her thigh and squeezed. She smiled softly as she listened to him but inside, she wasn’t feeling overly joyed with his comment. Was she really only a dirty dream to him? She had hoped that he had meant more. She watched as he moved to the opposite side of her bed and began to reach for his clothes. Her heart was pumping even slower. 

“Do you have to go?” She asked him with uncertainty, holding her blankets up towards her chest. She was growing cold again as she watched him dress himself, like he was taking all of the warmth with him. She felt like she had been in this position too many times before. He glanced at her from over his shoulder.

“I better, if your mom is suspicious, I don’t want to risk anything.” Billy defended himself quickly. She knew she shouldn’t be upset. There was nothing between them, no matter how worried they had been for each other. She reminded herself there were no feelings. She didn’t mean anything to him. 

“Right,” She breathed out slowly as she watched him. He pulled his shirt over his head. She admired his muscles, wishing there was a way to convince him to stay. She frowned, noticing the bruising near his abdomen, “Do you work tomorrow?” He nodded stiffly. It was like everything that had happened earlier had disappeared. He had been so kind and gentle, now he was back to putting distance between the two of them.

“Yeah, I work the next few days. Why?” He sounded brash and Kim wasn’t sure what had changed within the past few minutes. She rubbed the hem of her blanket as she watched him.

“I need a ride, if you don’t care to take me?” She asked softly, unsure of why she felt so insecure at the moment. She had thought everything was fine. Now, she wasn’t so sure. Billy seemed to hesitate for a moment before he nodded.

“Sure, yeah I’ll give you a ride.” He stood up as he finished pulling his pants up over his muscular thighs. She wanted to ask him what had happened, but she didn’t know how. She didn’t want to make him mad or upset. She was just confused about what she did wrong.

“See you.” She spoke up quickly, sitting up so she could look at him better. He was already at her door, beginning to pull it open. He had never left her so quickly before and now she was determined she had done something wrong. She just wasn’t sure what it was. He nodded, acting as if he didn’t even hear her before he left her. She felt a lump settling in her chest and wondered if this is what she got for making him not see anyone else. He was treating her like he treated everyone else, and she hated that.

She laid back on her bed, trying not to feel used as she stared up at her ceiling. She knew it was silly to want to cry. She had wanted him just as badly. She didn’t know how to place her feelings as she felt the arms of loneliness settle in against her. It seemed to be the one constant in her life.

[harryissuchalittleshit]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love

Okay, I’m going to be a cheater and do six because I can’t choose five. But they’re all one-shots so that can be taken however you want it to be.

it's always raining (whenever we're together)

This fic is the first in the Hufflepuff series and honestly a huge shift in my writing style and how I view characters. I created a background for two very minor characters that we only get a few small details of and I fell in love with them being together. Susan/Dudley are my favorite rarepair duo and they give me so much joy to write about. Susan is so stoic and headstrong, while Dudley changes so much as he grows older and educates himself. It’s a fic I’m really proud of even all these years later.

Apples (or not everyone believes in fairytales)

This is the first part of the Ravenclaw series, and Anthony Goldstein is such a minor character that we know nothing about. I love the parallels between the war and holocaust, mainly because of all the research that I put into it. Apples was an exploration into this quiet boy that listens and heals himself by healing others, he loves loudly after being forced into silence and he loves the stories his grandparents tell best, even though there not fairytales.

a curling crown lays atop my head

The Johnson-Weasley family is so interesting to me, and in reflection so are mother/daughter relationships as mine wasn’t always great but we’re healing that like Roxanne and Angelina. The use of hair as a metaphor wasn’t always attended, but it’s a connection that the pair of them share with only each other and the rest of the Weasley family doesn’t understand.

we’d still worship this love

I love Hinny, they are bold and stupid and reckless and funny, they also love so fiercely and protectively, especially each other. I love them so much in this fic and I had so much fun writing it and I don’t think I know of another “Hinny gets back together after the war” fic like this one.

Enough

Ginny is probably my favorite character in the whole series and in fanon, she’s funny and smart and deeply traumatized at eleven. She deserves better and I tried to give her some support, I also wanted to tell her side of the story, how badly that damned diary affected her. She will be haunted by Tom until her dying days, but she can push past that and live her life and be happy after he’s gone, because when Ginny says “enough” she means it

heatwave (the summer of '99 was full of ups and downs)

The summer of 99, the second summer after the war when the trio all live together and fight and hate one another while all being so in love with their closeness. Each of them struggle to be close to each other, but it only takes one moment to become best friends and it takes a drunken night of idiocy to stay best friends. That summer they realize that they would be friends even if the war didn’t happen.

Final notes:

I chose character studies for all six of these fics because I think my best stories are when I focus on characters themselves. I love the novels I’ve written for their plot, but I have always been drawn to strong characters and being able to give a little of myself to my writing always means so much to me.

I loved this ask so much and if I get this again I’ll give five different fics next time

[aristocrating]

Hot Take: Jack and Bitty are good for each other. Y'all are just mean LMAO

YEAH YEAH YES GOOD I LOVE THIS

fandom is just one hermeneutic cycle of being an anti until arguing for the ship that's on the front of the book cover becomes a hot take again!!

ok so (looks straight at camera) im a confessed zimbits-snarker, right? hate those guys. fuck those guys. BUT. i would love to play devils advocate for *checks notes real quick* the most popular pairing in the fandom for a minute. watch me, i'm about to do the mental gymnastics meme where both the top and the bottom just say "zimbits good"

one thing i think that draws people to zimbits is the aspect of wish fulfilment. with bitty serving as the reader-insert, it's easy to see why: bitty begins the comic as a fish out of water to college hockey, he undergoes the journey of being integrated into the group and learns to be part of its larger culture. add to that that Jack is literally set up as a handsome prince with a dark mysterious past who serves to sweep up Bitty and usher him off into the sunset. the author has even said that Jack specifically has to fulfil certain hunk duties as eyecandy. its cute! whats not to love! another thing that intrigues me specifically is that zimbits kind of starts out as enemies to lovers. me at age something-teen reading Check Please for the first time, seeing tall dark and handsome year 1 asshole jack yell at Bitty? i was like "oh i need him carnally", and evidently so did Bits.

Next, coming from the Jack side of things, it's just such a cozy concept for the ending of his character arc, right? After all these years of torturing himself, here is finally someone who is just willing to shower him in affection, who loves nothing more than to dote on him and bake him homemade pie, which is a very fitting image for the domesticity that jack could use after the fuckery that is his Icarus arc.

Another thing that I would love to see explored more is how Bitty's and Jack's stories end up falling in parallel when it comes to their upbringing. Both of them feel like they can't live up to being their fathers, which neither of their fathers necessarily want of them, but it's a sort of self-imposed expectation for both of them. As a woman who is certainly "my father's daughter" i find that very relatable.

Now here's where I'm gonna come in with my own hot take and say that, Jack and Bitty are good for each other– for a while. And that's okay. When I read their relationship, it always gives me the sense that here are two people who found each other at very pivotal points in their lives (i mean whats more epitomic of the college experience than that) and who profit from each other's company while they're going through that growing process. They work because first and foremost they're each other's friends. I think in year 2 this is especially evident when the buildup to their romance happens. Bitty cares about Jack's safety, his happiness. Jack wants to give Bitty what he can to make him happy.

When I think about where I see them in the future I always think, like. Happily divorced. There's a scene in Company by Sondheim where Peter and Susan, a sexually repressed guy who lusts after the protagonist and a southern belle ray of sunshine, get a divorce and it's the best thing that's ever happened to them. I rewatched the 2006 revival recently and at that scene I went "oh shit that's them. that's zimbits". At one point the protag asks Peter where he's gonna live now that they're divorced and Peter says like "Right here. I got Susan and the kids to take care of, I would certainly never leave them?" And obviously the scene is highly facetious and satiristic, but I think it's emblematic of how I see their relationship work out. They're probably not longterm compatible romantically but they'll still have each other's backs.

At least until Jack finds out about the vlog.

Idk I don't think there's anything to rate here. Zimbits good is a scorching hot take on this blog. To ME.

[iamsherlocked1479]

Chapter 11

“Having a breather?” sherlock walks up from behind 

“I just got asked if i was your girlfriend.” you say jokingly

“Oh wonderful, who by?” he looked up at the crowds

“Mollys, suspiciously familiar boyfriend.” you add

“Why familiar?” he asks

“Look at him, if he had an ounce of intelligence he would be you.” you laugh

“So now you admit I'm intelligent.”

“I never said you weren't.” you sip your drink

“So what did you say?” he asks

“I said no, you’re supposed to be helping me remember. What about him? He looks nice.” you point at the waiter walking past. Sherlock sniffs before he speaks

“Traces of two leading brands of deodorant, both advertised for their strength, suggestive of a chronic body odour problem manifesting under stress.” he smirks

“Okay, done there. What about his friend?” you point to a chef

“long-term relationship, compulsive cheat.”

“How can you tell?”

“Waterproof cover on his smartphone. Yet his complexion doesn’t indicate outdoor work.Suggests he’s in the habit of taking his phone into the shower with him, which means he often receives texts and emails he’d rather went unseen.”

“God, where were you when Louise went through her new man every month, phase?” you laugh brushing your hand across his arm, if you were going to be drinking there's no harm in a little flirting. He knew where the boundary was anyways, didn’t he? His brow knitted together as he saw john hugging his old army major 

“So that's his old major.” he sighed, handing you another drink, which you took gladly, hopefully it will distract you from the growing number of crowds.

“Yep.” you say popping the P “don’t get too jealous.” you joke

“Pft jealous i don’t get jealous.” he shuffled not taking his eyes off them.

“Sure you don’t.” you say watching as he grew ever more so jealous

“Excuse me.” he says walking over to Mary, your phone began ringing  and you frowned at the sight of a blocked number appearing on your screen.

“The number is supposed to be blocked for a reason Mycroft.” you spit

“Now now, don’t get too defensive just yet.” his irritating sarcasm beckoned down the phone

“What do you want, Mycroft?” you sigh

“I want you to keep an eye on Sherlock, i’ve decided not to show my face, my gift treat-”

“I’m sure they’ll revel in it.” you interrupted

“So what i’m trying to say is keep an eye on my brother, we both know you’re somewhat, how do i say this, interesting to him.”

“I’m already keeping an eye on him, i’m going to make sure he gets through his speech and then i’m leaving.”

“Keep him away from your supply.” he felt the need to add a small insult to his request

“We both know that wasn’t my fault.”

“Yet we still found you passed out in the living room y/n.”

“Goodbye Mycroft.” you hang up the phone and gulp down the rest of your wine, what a repulsive man. Though given he trusted you to watch Sherlock, you could at least tell he was not entirely robotic. The guest were moved to the dining tables, and then began the next stage of the wedding, the appropriate time that you could leave was looming ever closer, you weren't saying you didn’t like the fact that john and mary where getting married, it was just big crowds and fancy dresses where not exactly your thing, lord knows how you where going to get this dress off.  The master of ceremonies smiled as he got up tapping his glass

“Pray silence for the best man.” Everyone cheered and clapped as they looked toward your table, watching Sherlock awkwardly standing and raising his glass.

“Ladies and gentlemen, family and friends.. And erm.. Others,” he gulped loudly looking around the room then down to you who sat next to him “er.. I-, a-also..” he paused again. John sighs and looks up at Sherlock

“Telegrams.” He points towards the cards placed in front of sherlock.

“Right, um. First things first, telegrams.” he lifts them up and shows them to the room “well they’re not actually telegrams. We just call them telegrams. I don’t know why. Wedding traditions.” he lifts the first card “because we don’t already have enough of those apparently.” he mutters sarcastically “to Mr and Mrs watson. So sorry I'm unable to be with you on your special day. Good luck and best wishes, Mike stanford." John and Mary smile at the message from their friend. You sigh quietly and rest your cheek in your palm, knowing this was going to take a while. “To John and mary. All good wishes for your special day. With love and many big. he groans and continues “big squishy cuddles, from stella and ted.” he rolls his eyes and you watch as greg snickers to himself quietly. “Mary- lots of love-” he tutts and sighs “poppet” he looks down as you laugh to yourself and continues “Oodles of love and heaps of good wishes from Cam.” he begins to grow impatient as he quick fires through the card dropping them onto the table “um, special day, very special day.. Love, love love,” he groans “lots of love, bit of a theme- you get the gist, people are basically fond.” a small wave of laughter circles the room. He looks down as you clear the cards he threw down and moves onto his speech.

“John Watson” he gestures to John “My friend, John watson. When John first broached the subject of being the best man, I was confused. I confess at first I didn't realise he was asking me, when I finally understood, I expressed to him that I was both flattered and… surprised. I explained to him that I'd never expected this request and I was a little daunted in the face of it. I nonetheless promised that I would do my very best to accomplish a task which was- for me- as demanding and as difficult as any I had ever contemplated. Additionally, I thanked him for the trust he placed in me and indicated that I was, in some ways, very close to being… moved by it.

“Huh” you muttered to yourself, that really didn’t sound like sherlock.

“It later transpired that I had said none of this outloud.” he adds, that sounds more like him. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of cards and began flicking through them “done that, done that, done that bit… done that bit, hm” he looks up at the guests and then john “i’m afraid john, i can’t congratulate you.” you look nonetheless shocked as sherlock continued “All emotions, and in particular love, stand opposed to the pure, cold reason I hold above all things. A wedding is, in my considered opinion, nothing short of a celebration of all that is false and spacious and irrational and sentimental in this ailing and morally compromised world.” you look up at Sherlock in horror as the room begins to feel uncomfortable “today we honour the death-watch beetle that is the doom of our society and, in time- one feels certain- our entire species, But anyway… let's talk about john. If i burden myself with a little help-mate during my adventures, it is not out of sentiment or caprice - it is that he has many fine qualities of his own that he has overlooked in his obsession of me. Indeed any reputation I have of mental acuity and sharpness comes, in truth, from the extraordinary contrast John so selflessly provides." John sighed heavily and you buried your face into your hands. “It is a fact, I believe, that brides tend to favour exceptionally plain bridesmaids for their big day. There is an analogy there I feel.” you look up at him irritated and the other two bridesmaids look confused, “i- um, sorry.” he smiles at you sheepishly before moving to his next card. “ and contrast is, after all, God’s own plan to enhance the beauty of his creation… or it would be if God were not a ludicrous fantasy designed to provide a career opportunity for the family idiot..” the vicar clears his throat and leaves the room “The point i’m trying to make is that I am the most unpleasant, rude, ignorant and all-round obnoxious arsehole that anyone could possibly have the misfortune to meet. I am dismissive of the virtuous.” he looks to you “Unaware of the beautiful.” he turns to Mary and John “and uncomprehending in the face of the happy. So if I didn't understand I was being asked to be best man, it's because I never expected to be anyone's best friend. Certainly not the best friend of the bravest and kindest and wisest human beings I have ever had the good fortune of knowing.” small aww’s could be heard from the tables around the room “John, i am a ridiculous man… redeemed only by the warmth and constancy of your friendship. But, as i’m apparently your best friend, i cannot congratulate you on your choice of companion.” he looks down for a moment and smiles “actually now i can. Mary, when I say you deserve this man, it is the highest compliment of which I am capable. John, you have endured war and injury, and tragic loss, so sorry again about that last one… so know this: today you sit between the woman you have made your wife and the man you have saved -  in short, the two people who love you the most in this world. And I know I speak for Mary as well when I say we will never let you down, and we have a lifetime ahead to prove that.” the room was filled with soft whimpers and john turns to Mary

“If i try to hug him, stop me” he whispers

“Certainly not.” She smiles rubbing his arm as Sherlock moves onto the next card.

“Ah yes, now onto some funny stories about john…” he looks confused at the state of the room. “What's wrong? What happened? Why are you all doing that?” he looks down to you who is smiling, wiping a small tear from your eye. “Did I do it wrong?” 

“No” you smile

“You didn’t. Come here.” John pulls him into a tight hug.

“I haven’t finished yet.” Sherlock states confused, John released him and he continues to read the next card “so, funny stories about john.” he looks up at the guests “so if you could all just cheer up a bit, that would be better.” the guests laugh as they wipe their eyes. “On we go. So, for funny stories.” he takes out his phone as he continues “one has to look no further than John’s blog, the record of our time together. Of course he does tend to romanticise things a bit, but then you know, we have our editor to thank for that” he looks down at you and you smile. “And it doesn’;t help that he’s a romantic. We’ve tackled some strange cases: the hollow client, the poison giant. We;ve had some frustrating cases, touching cases and of course have to mention the elephant in the room. But we want something… very particular for this special day, don't we? The bloody guardsman. 

You remember that case exactly, well the parts that you were present. You remember coming in from uni one day to help john and mary with their wedding preparations and finding sherlock crossed legged on the floor folding napkins into shapes

“What's that?” you asked 

“Sydney opera house style,” he muttered.

“And that?” you point to the large group of sydney opera house serviettes on the table and floor, slowly beginning to surround him

“Well that, that just sort of… happened.” you rolled your eyes and went into the kitchen to Mary.

Well that's all you were really present for, you listened to Sherlock explain how they dealt with a so-called stalker who a royal guard was worried about, but upon going to interview the soldier, he was found dead in his shower with no real sign of how he actually died. Sherlock continued his overview of the case,

“Private Bianbridge had just come off guard duty. He’d stood there for hours, plenty of people watching, nothing apparently wrong. He came off duty an within minutes was nearly dead from a wound in his stomach, but there was no weapon. Where did it go? Ladies and gentlemen, i invite you to consider this: a murderer who can walk through walls, a weapon that can vanish - butin all of this there is only one element which can be said to be truly remarkable. Would anyone like to make a guess?” the guests fidget and look around the room “come on, there is actually an element of Q and A to all of this. Scotland Yard?” greg lifts his head “have you got a theory?” he asks, greg stares at him blankly. “You’re a detective, broadly speaking, Got a theory?”

“Er, um.. If the if-if the blade was er, propelled through, um- grating or air vent… maybe a ballista or a- catapult. Erm, somebody tiny could-could crawl in there. So yeah, we’re loo- we’re looking for a dwarf.” he gulps as Sherlock stares at him blankly.

“Brilliant”

“Really?” great asks surprised

“No” Sherlock sighs “next!” a whisper emerged from a table “hello? Who was that?” Sherlock impatiently “Tom” Tom slowly stands up to address the room “got a theory?” sherlock asks

“Um… attempted suicide, with as blade made of comp[acted blood and bone; broke after peircing his abdomen… like a meat… dagger.” Molly looks at him in disbelief as you snigger 

“A meat dagger.” sherlock looks unamused

“Yes,” tom replies awkwardly

“Sit down” Molly whispers through her gritted teeth, pulling him down to his seat as sherlock continues

“There was one feature, and only one feature, of interest in the whol;e of this baffling case, and quite frankly it was the usual. John Watson- who while i was trying to solve the murder, instead saved a life. There are mysteries worth solving and stories worth telling."He looks down at John, the best and bravest man I know- and on top of that he actually knows how to do stuff. Except wedding planning and serviettes- he’s rubbish at those.”

“True” john adds and the guests laugh

“The case itself remains the most ingenious and brilliantly planned murder -  or attempted murder - I've ever had the pleasure to encounter; the most perfect locked room mystery of which I am aware. However, i’m not just here to praise john -i’m also here to embarrass him, so let's move on to some-

“No-no, wait, so how was it done?” Greg asks, Sherlock stares blankly

“We- we don’t need to go into that.” you smile shooting daggers at greg who remained confused.

“No really how did it happen?” he [pressed on

“I’m afraid I don’t know. I didn’t solve that one. That’s” he looked down embarrassed “It can happen sometimes. It's very… very disappointing.” he sighs “ embarrassment leads me onto the stag night. Of course there's hours of material here, but I've cut it down to the really good bits.”

Of Course you remember that night, mostly, though you never actually asked what happened to the woman who interrupted the very interesting game you were half watching. He explained how he had ended up in the man’s apartment that he had taken Tessa back to and then how he had spent the past few weeks  since then trying to solve the case.

“Ultimately the case led me to be staring at a computer screen two days before now with both John and Mary by my side. With that privilege, not many best men can claim that they have slept with both the bride and the groom, a few nights before their wedding.” the room erupted into small laughs as Sherlock took a sip of his drink. “Most people bond through day-to-day experiences- the simple daily rituals of living. Shopping together, eating together, sharing a flat, sharing a drink in the pub. But not John and me. Our lives have been peppered by mysteries, murders, kidnapps, every form of danger. But it hasn’t just been a life, thank you john. It's been an adventure.” he put down his phone and turns to shake john’s hand to witch is battered away as john pulls him into a hug

“I knew you’d be brilliant.” he said into his ear, before sitting back into his seat. The applause died down as sherlock lifted his glass 

“So, finally. Ladies and gentlemen, if you’d like to raise your glasses please, i’d like to end by proposing a toast, to…” he stopped in his words staring off into the distance.

“Sherlock?” john whispers

“Mm?” he mumbles, stood frozen

“John and Mary, that's our names.” john whispered

“Sherlock?” you tug his hand

“No, it's not your name” he turned to john “not today, it's not your name. Your names aren’t John and Mary, not on this occasion.”

“What are you on about?” john asked puzzled

“What did she call you?” sherlock replied

“What?” john asked

“Tessa. What did she call you? When we went to the flat. What name did she say?” sherlock pushed on

“I don’t remember.” john added perplexed

“She called you John Hamish.” he added

“It’;s my name.” john stated

“Whats it make you think of?” sherlock asked

“My mum telling me off. How is this relevant?”

“Only one time in your adult life you’re addressed by both your forenames.”

“What?” john asked

“Think john! Today is one of them. It's written on the menu, its written on the notice board outside, its written on the order of service. Today - for one day - you’re john hamish instead of simply john!” 

“She knew i was getting married, but i never told her.'' John's brow raised as he caught on.

“She’d seen the invitation. She’d seen your name in gold.” sherlock exclaimed, he stared of into the distance again his eyes racing people looked around confused and john looked at you

“Mind palace.” you mouthed as an uncomfortable silence echoed through the room until the crash of sherlocks glass hit the table spilling champagne across the plates.

“Here today,” he muttered

“Sherlock?” you asked confused

“Sorry what?” he looked at you and you pinted at his mess with your eyes “sorry, butter fingers.” he turned to the waiter who handed him another glass before turing to the room again “thank you, yes. Right where were we? Ah, yes! Charging your glasses, and standing up. Yes, very good, thank you.”  everyone did as they where told following hids command as he scanned the room “and down again. Ladies and gentlemen. Everyone tells you not to milk a good speech. Get off early. Leave ‘em laughing. Wise advice I shall certainly keep in mind. But for now ... part two!” you look over to john and shrugged

“Something is wrong.” you whispered across the table

“Hang on.” he replied watching as sherlock vaults over the table

“Who’d come to a wedding, that’s the question. Who’d bother going to any lengths to get themselves to a wedding? Well everyone would, because wedding’s are great, love a wedding.” he smiled

“What's he doing?” mary asked

“I don’t know, somethings wrong.” john replied

“And John’s great, haven’t said that enough. I’ve barely scratched the surface. I could go on all night about the depth and the complexity of his ..... jumpers. And he can cook. Does a great...um...thing. A thing with peas. Once. Might not have been peas. Might not have been him. And he’s got a great singing voice. Or somebody has.Too many, too many!!” he shakes his head as he patrols between the tables, before looking up at the rooms startled guests “Sorry, yes, too many ... jokes about John. Now then. Where was I? Speech, yes, speech. Let’s talk about -murder.” the room gasped and you watched as sherlock scanned every feature of the room, something was very wrong. “Sorry, did I say murder. I meant marriage. But, you know, very similar procedures, when you think about it. The participants tend to know each other, and it’s over when one of them dies. In fairness, though, murder’s a lot quicker. y/n?” you look over at him as he walks over to a couple. “What about this one? Acceptably hot. More importantly, his girlfriend is wearing brand new, uncomfortable underwear, but hasn’t bothered to remove this thread from his jacket or mention to him the grease smudge on the back of his neck. Currently he’s going home alone.” you blush as the couple looks at each other. “Also, he’s a comics and sci-fi geek - they’re always tremendously grateful and really put the hours in.” he smiles before moving away from them towards Lestrade “Jeff, the Gents.”

“Its greg!” he huffs in annoyance

“The loo, now please!” Sherlock commands

“Why?”

“I don’t know, it’s your go.” Sherlocks brow raises at the sound of gregs phone buzzing

“Yep, now that you mention it.” he rushes out the door and begins shouting commands at the serving staff.

“Oi! Sherlock! Any chance of an end date for this speech? Got to cut the cake?” John adds, sensing that something was definitely wrong.

“Oh, listen to him. Can’t stand it when I get a chance to speak for once vatican cameos.” sherlock fake laughs

“What's wrong?” you and mary both ask as Sherlock shoots a serious look at john

“Battle stations, someones going to die.” he says, pulling his napkin off as you shuffle nervously in your seat.

“No!” Sherlock shouts slapping his head, he proceeds to walk past the tables scanning each person deleting them from his mind “Not you, not you!” he continues to repeat before reaching john “You. Always you. Always John Watson, you keep me right.” The guests become restless as John gets up from his seat, the game is on.

“What do i do?” he asks

“You’ve already done it.” Sherlock smiles “Don’t solve the murder …” he pauses “save the life, Sorry. Off-piste, tiny bit, back on, phew! Let’s play a game. Let’s play murder!” he tilts his head as he addresses the room now becoming the detective he so often is. 

“Oh sherlock.” your aunt groans

“Imagine someone’s going to get murdered at a wedding. Who exactly would you pick?”

“I think you might be a popular choice at the moment, dear.” she laughs nervously

“Just give him a chance.” you snap at her, to which she seems quite shocked at your attitude.

“Thank you y/n, now more especially, who could you only kill at a wedding? Most people, you can kill any old place. As a mental exercise, I’ve often planned the murder of my friends and colleagues. Now John, I’d poison. Sloppy eater, dead easy. I’ve tried out many chemicals and compounds on him that way, he’s never even noticed. He missed a whole Wednesday once, didn’t have a clue. Lestrade’s so easy to kill it’s a miracle no one’s succumbed to the temptation. I have a set of my brother’s house keys, I could break in any time and asphyxiate him, if the whim arose.” the guest looked around mildly afraid at his psychotic speech. “So! Again! Who could you only kill here. Clearly this must be a rare opportunity so it’s someone who doesn’t get out much.” he walked around the room at a slower place allowing him to get a better look as he deleted his suspicions. “Someone for whom a planned social encounter, known about months in advance, is an exception. This has to be a unique opportunity. Since killing someone in public is difficult, killing them in private can’t be an option. Someone who lives in an inaccessible or unknown location then, Perhaps someone private, someone obsessive about personal security, possibly someone under threat. A recluse. Small private staff, with a high turn over for additional security. Probably all sign confidentiality agreements -” he pauses as he leaves the room again, leaving only his body truly with the room. And once again he is back, he walks down the tables sliding a creased napkin to johns old army captain who leaves once he reads the note. “A question remains though - a rather big one. A huge one. How do you do it? How do you kill someone in public? Got to be a way, this has been planned.

“Mr Holmes, Mr Holmes!” archies hand rises as he jumps from his seat

“Oh, hello again. What’s your theory? Get this right, there’s a headless nun in it.” he smiles softly

“The invisible man could do it.”

“The who?” sherlock asks confused

“The invisible man with the invisible knife. The one who tried to kill the guardsman!” Archie smiled as Sherlock becomes giddy after another long confusing pause.

“Oh! Not just planned. Planned and rehearsed! Ladies and Gentlemen, there will now be a short break.” he grabs a wine glass and raises it “to the bride and groom.” he smiles before rushing to the head table. “Major Sholto is going to be murdered - I don’t know who or how, but it’s going to happen!!” he says rushing off as John follows, leaping over the table.

“He’s not going to remember the room number, he’s jealous of Sholto.” you add getting up from your seat

“Let's go.” Mary smiles, you grab the ends of her dress letting her run better. You run down the halls towards the sounds of Sherlock shouting in frustration.

“I have to delete somethings” he says leaning on the stair walls

“507!” Mary shouted as you and her rushed past them reaching the majors door with Sherlock pushing past and banging on the door.

“Major Sholto? Hello, Major Sholto?” he shouts through the locked door

“If someone is about to make an attempt on my life, it won’t be the first time. I’m ready.” the click of a gun being loaded followed his statement

“Just let us in.” john begged

“Kick the bloody door down.” mary panics

“I really wouldn’t. I have a gun in my hand and a lifetime of unfortunate reflexes.” the major replied

“You’re not safe in there. The man who is coming for you, isn’t stopped by a locked room, we know that.” Sherlock begged

“The invisible man with the invisible knife?” Sholto asked

“I don’t know how he did it, so I don't know how to stop him. That means he can do it again.” Sherlock banged on the door again

“Solve it then.” you added

“I’m sorry?” sherlock turned to you confused

“You’re the famous Mr. Holmes. Solve the case, on you go. Tell us how he did it and maybe he could open the door.” you bargained speaking loud enough for the major to hear.

“That sounds fair.” the major replied

“Please. This isn’t a time for games, just let us in. You’re in danger.” John added

“So are you, so long as you’re here. Please leave me. Despite my reputation, I really don’t approve of collateral damage.” the majors tone saddened

“Solve it sherlock.” Mary turned to him

“It's not that easy.” he tutted

“Solve it and open the door!” she repeated

“I couldn’t solve it before, how can I solve it now??” Sherlock sighed

“Because it matters now.” 

“What are you talking about? What’s she talking about - get your wife under control.” sherlock turned to john who rolled his eyes

“She’s right.”

“Oh, you’ve changed.” Sherlock groaned turning away 

“No, she is, shut up. You’re not a puzzle solver, you never have been. You’re a bloody drama queen. A man is going to die, the game is on - go on, solve it!!” John yelled, his words sending an outraged shock of disbelief to Sherlock's face leaving his mouth agape slightly, Sherlock Holmes a drama queen? Never! Well, maybe a little. He turned away focusing on the facts he could see clearly, that maybe others could not muttering like a child talking back

“In fairness to me, he’s a drama Queen.” 

“I know Mary added.” 

“Calm down Sherlock.” you smile trying not to be humoured too much given the situation. Sherlock paces for a moment before making his way back to the locked door.

“Major Sholto, no one is coming to kill you. I’m afraid you were killed several hours ago.”

“I’m sorry? What did you say?” the major replied

“Don’t take your belt off.” he instructed he turned to the three of you explaining his logic “His belt, yes. Bainbridge was stabbed hours before we even saw him - but through his belt. A tight belt worn high on his waist. Push a tiny blade through the hole, you wouldn’t even feel it.”

“The belt would bind the flesh together, when it was tied tight.” john added

“Exactly and when you took it of-

“Delayed action stabbing. All the time in the world for an alibi.” you say, causing Sherlock to turn around impressed whilst also leaving John and Mary slightly worried. “Oh erm, writing a story about a serial killer.” you smile as they sigh in relief.

“So. I was to be killed by my uniform. How appropriate.” The major’s tone deepened

“He solved the case, Major. You’re supposed to open the door now - deal’s a deal.” you say through the door

“Not even supposed to have this any more - they gave me special dispensation to keep it. Couldn’t imagine life out of this uniform. I suppose, under the circumstances, I don’t have to. When so many want you dead, it’s hardly good manners to argue.” the sounds of a belt unbuckling quietly drifted through the door

“Whatever you’re doing in there, stop it now. I will kick this door down.” john became restless

“Mr. Holmes, you and I are similar, I think.” The major continued

“I do too.” sherlock answered

“There is a proper time to die, isn’t there?”

“Of course there is.” Sherlock agrees, you look to him worried, he’d thought about when he was going to die?

“And one should embrace it when it comes. Like a soldier.” the major gulped his hand on his belt, ready to release the clasp.

“Of course one should. But not at John’s wedding. We would never do that, would we, you and I. We’d never do that to John Watson.” Sherlock speaks softly. The room enters a brief silence as the major hesitates before John impatience takes over.

“That's it, i’m kicking the door in.” he takes off his jacket and hands it to mary who holds him back

“You won’t have too.” She smiles as the door clicks open and the major appears in the doorway.

“I believe I need medical attention.” he sighs

“I believe I’m your doctor.” John smiles. 

The rest of the afternoon was filled with sirens and police surveying the area looking for any clues that could lead to the murderer being caught, until the most of the officers had left the wedding was on hold due to begin again later that evening. You had found a somewhat quiet corner for you to sip on the remaining champagne in your glass when Sherlock approached you.

“You know i’ll have to ask you this but we have to work on your dancing.” he smiled as you laugh  slightly offended

“Fine, but only because I'm bored.” you take huis arm begin to waltz, following his instructions as closely as you could in your slightly tipsy haze

“And round ... and down ... and up, very good, just keep your nerve on the turns..” he lifted his head keeping his eye on one spot while he continued to spin.

“Why exactly  do we have to rehearse?” you ask

“Because we’re about to dance together in public. And your skills are appalling.” you both laugh as you pull away

“You’re a good teacher. You’re a brilliant dancer.” you say as he neatens up his suit

“Can I let you into a secret, y/n?” he says quietly

“Go on then.” you take another sip of your drink

“I love dancing. I’ve always loved it.” he smiled

“Seriously?” your eyes widened, that's the most shocking thing you’d heard all day, watching as he does a rather immaculate pirouette

“Never really comes up in crime work - I live in hope of the right case.” he says watching as you marvel over him. You shared warm smiles for a moment, even catching a glimpse of his lips, that you so desperately wanted to kiss. 

“Oh, well, glad you’ve pulled, Sherlock, what with murderers running riot at my wedding.” he smiles at the sight of your closeness, it wasn’t exactly a big secret of yours that you liked sherlock.

“One murderer. One nearly murderer.” he turned to you “Always one for exaggerating.”

“Sherlock!” Lestrade enters the room with the wedding photographer following behind  him suspiciously reluctantly. “Got him for you.” he points to the photographer

“Excellent, the photographer, thank you. Can I see your camera?” he smiles, holding out his hand.

“What’s this about? I was half-way home.” he hands him the camera hesitantly

“You should’ve driven faster.” Sherlock smiles as he flips through the photographs “Ah, yes! Yes, very good. There, you see, perfect.” he hands the camera to lestrade and you and john peer over his shoulders as he flicks through the photos.

“What is? Are you going to tell us??” lestrade asks

“Look closely” Sherlock sighs

“A look for what? Is the murderer in the photos?” john adds

“It’s not what’s in the photographs. It’s what’s in none of them. None of them at all.” he smiles

“Sherlock, the showing off thing, we’ve discussed it before …” john rolls his eyes

“There’s one man at a wedding, who is never in any photograph, but can go anywhere. Even carry an equipment bag, if he wants. And you never even see his face, you only ever see the camera.” He takes handcuffs out of his pocket which piques your interest, how surprising, and handcuffs the photographer to the radiator behind you.

“What are you doing, what is this??” the photographer panics as sherlock takes his phone from his pocket

“Johnny Small. Today’s substitute photographer, known to us as the Mayfly Man. His brother was one of the ones killed in that friendly fire incident. Johnny wanted revenge on Sholto. So he worked his way through Sholto’s staff and found what he needed. Brilliant, ruthless, almost certainly a monomaniac. In fairness, though, his photographs are actually quite good.” he hands his phone to lestrade “All the information you need is there - you probably ought to arrest him or something.”

“Do you always carry handcuffs?” you ask

“Down girl.” sherlock jokes as you blush

“It’s not me you should be arresting, Mr. Holmes.” the photographer begins to become annoyed

“Oh, I don’t do the arresting, I farm that out.” he smiles as lestrade begins to drag johnny  from the room.

“Sholto, he’s the killer. Not me.”

“Guys, it’s almost time for -” Mary pauses as she watches the man be dragged away “what's happening?”

“I should’ve killed him quicker. I shouldn’t have tried to be clever.” he shouts

“You should have driven faster.” Sherlock replies with a cold look “Anyways, time for my gift to you.” He smiles as he leads John and Mary to the dance floor as you join the crowd preparing to watch the first dance. He steps onto the stage picking up his violin that had been set out for him. He nods as John and Mary begin to dance along with his song, you smile as you listen to the tune you had danced to earlier, only this time it was different. He changed it, for once he actually listened to you adding the note you had suggested you looked over to him to see that he was waiting for your reaction, smiling as the song came to an end and the crowd clapped for the happy couple. He walked over to the microphone tapping it making sure it was on “Ladies and gentlemen. One last thing, before the evening begins properly. Apologies for earlier. A crisis arose, and was dealt with. More importantly, though, today we saw two people make vows. I’ve never made a vow in my life. After today I never will again. So here, in front of you all, is my first and last vow. John and Mary. Whatever it takes, whatever happens from this day on - I swear I will always be there. Always. For -” he paused for a moment and smiled “all three of you.” the room looked confused as sherlock shook his head “Sorry. Two of you. All two of you. Both of you, in fact. I just ... miscounted. Okay, anyway, time for dancing. Could we have some music please. Could we start up the music again? Thankyou.” he jumped down from the stage out of sight and you turned to the new couple, but then the joy of the other guests became loud and fuzzy as the bumped you in their celebration while the music blurred. Your throat grew dry as you heart puoned pumping the itch on your arm, its time to go.

“Congradulations.” you hugg john and kiss mary on the cheek who understood. “Room 147” you nodded knowing your room would be empty, you needed to go home. You pushed through the crowds avoiding having to make small talk knocking arms with Sherlock as you left, not stopping for conversation as he turned to speak to you. Your lungs felt like they were shrinking as the room began to fill with people. You pushed through the doors into the hotel's gardens finally finding sanctuary under a dimly lit wooden gazebo painted white, littered with pink roses climbing their way up the sides. It was most likely set this way for the photographer to take photos of the bride and groom, after he had murdered the major of course. You leant over the railing dailing the cab number, your savour was in its way. You sighed pulling a cigarette out of your purse and lighting it. You took a drag inhaling as much of the toxic smoke as you could ignoring the burn it created as it entered your lungs and exhaling as the itch left your body. You looked up at the sky smiling as the starts twinkled brighter than usual, the country was always the best place to see the stars due to the lack of light pollution.

“Dreaming of a quieter night?” A familiar voice came from behind, you turned around to see Sherlock approaching from behind pulling his collar to his perfect cheekbones. Jesus focus y/n.

“Not really my idea of fun, I can see you agree.” You smile, turning back to the sky as he moves beside you.

“Soothing ‘the itch’ as well.” He mocked as you rolled your eyes

“Can you keep out of my diary next time?” 

“I can’t read you like I can others. I might as well hear your own words.” He chucked

“Mhm.” You turned to him and blew the smoke into his face laughing when his eyes closed as he inhaled the scent. “Wanna share?” You smiled, handing him the cigarette.

“Ignoring my brother's attempt to care for me then.” He took a drag and held it in for a moment before sighing with relief. “It is a celebration after all.” 

“For some.” You smile softly 

“What do you mean?” His brow furrowed 

“I’ve been watching you a lot lately, I know you’re struggling with John not being around.” You took his hand in yours and smiled “it's okay not to be okay sometimes, i'm still going to be around.” He pulled his hand away.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I worked alone before John, I can do it after him.” He lifted his arm to take another drag but you took the cigarette from his hand and took the last of it before throwing it onto the damp grass.

“That was mine and I wasn’t talking about cases.” 

“What else would you be talking about, I don’t do companionship.” He looked away 

“Then what was that ridiculously long speech all about?” You laugh through your annoyance

“What do you mean ridiculous? And it's my duty as the best man.” 

“You're his best friend, and you’re going to miss him and that's okay. Just don’t bottle it all up and spiral like you always do.” You pretend you don’t hear the sad sigh that leaves his lungs

“I’ll be fine, the worst thing that could happen is i have to actually dance in public with you.” He allows a small smile to escape as he steps back avoiding the playful slap you throw his way

“You ass.” You laugh and set your eyes back on skies

“May I ask you something?” He he steps closer again

“Go ahead.”

“Why do you like looking at the stars so much?” He looks at the sky as you explain.

“My parents used to be away on business trips a lot so they would send me to boarding school but every summer they would take to me to the country to camp, and everytime mum and dad would end up arguing over the lack of resources they packed until it got dark and we would lau down on the grass and wait for shooting stars, mum always wished that we would stay happy forever and dad would wish for mum to remind him to bring what we needed next time.” You smile and look down at the grass

“What would you wish for?” He asked

“That we could just stay like that forever.” You laughed and sniffed as tears began forming in your eyes. “And then the accident happened, I never really did find out what happened. I was probably too young to really understand it, I don’t think even the police understood what happened.” 

“What if I solved it for you?”Sherlocks tone became remorseful, another human feeling he had discovered.

“Don’t, i’ve  finally accepted they’re gone. I don’t need that can of worms opening.” You smiled and looked up at him “thank you though.” He trailed his hand across your cheek wiping a stray tear with his thumb

“Y/n I-“ he was interrupted by a car horn as a taxi pulled up on the gravel beside the entrance.

“That's for me.” You tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “We can share a cab if you want.”

“Sure.” He smiled following behind you.

The cab ride was quiet every time you tried to sneak a glance his eyes were already on you, he kept looking like he wanted to say something but then never did, for once he was quiet and for Sherlock Holmes, that meant something. 

You stood at the doorstep of the apartment fumbling with your bag searching for your keys until Sherlocks arm reached past you and unlocked the door.

“Next time you’re in a rush, remember your keys.” He smirked. You rolled your eyes as you followed him into the hallway until he stopped suddenly scanning the walls.

“What?” You ask watching him closely 

“Nothing, just a miscalculation.” He muttered, taking his jacket off and rushing up the steps. You roll your eyes yet again and leave your coat on the railing, following his steps. You enter the living room to find Sherlock sat in his usual chair with two glasses of bourbon on the table opposite him. “Drink” he gestures to the glasses

“Why?” You say sitting across from him

“It will help relieve the anxiety, trust me.” He said taking a sip keeping his eyes on you.

“I’m not anxious.” You say crossing your eyes. He sighed and put down his drink.

“Your brow is slightly sweaty, breathing was abnormal and pupils dilated. Not to mention when you touched my hand earlier your pulse was elevated and why else would someone who supposedly quit smoking smoke?” Je did his stupid look and rested his fingers on his chin.

“Stop doing that.” You sigh

“Doing what?”

“The look.”

“What look?”

“You’re doing the we both know what's going on face, but in reality, you know what's going on and I don’t.” You say taking a large gulp of bourbon, wincing slightly as the burn flooded your throat.

“I’m just trying to understand why you are exhibiting these signs, your record shows you haven’t needed therapy for 16 months now, so who or what gives you this anxiety y/n?” His brow raised as he waited for your answer 

“I- I don't know.” You lied watching as his muscles tensed in frustration, you downed the last part of your drink and headed for the stairs.

“Goodnight y/n” he said softly.

You made it to your bedroom sighing as you removed your shoes and relieving some of the pressure on your feet. You reached your arm over your back towards the zip and began trying to pull it down. You huffed as it didn’t budge, you tugged hard trying your best not to to pull it off the dress. You jumped slightly for some reason, not like it would aid your attempt.

“For fuck sake!” You yelled, sighing as you sat at the edge of your bed.

“You’re really going to give up that easily?” A low chuckle sounded from your doorway, Sherlock leant against the frame with his arms crossed.

“Can you help me.” You ask, he tilts his head in anticipation “please.” You sigh grumpily, you get up and turn around. You felt his frame behind you before his hands traced across the back of your neck, pushing your hair aside. He pulled the zip down, but not too far still giving you the modesty of privacy, even though you felt him lean in closer. You tremble slightly at the feeling of his hand tracing back up your spine to your neck putting your hair back in place.

“Try not to be too nervous.” His voice rattled your eardrums, it's not like his tone didn’t instantly fill you with the sensation of safety and a small amount of arousal. But he didn’t need to know that.

“Sorry.” Was all you were able to speak as you melted at his touch

“It appears your pulse has become elevated, again.”

Fuck

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A/N: well would you loo at that I managed to upload two chapters in under a week (don't get used to it) just been on a roll lately and the next chapter s gonna be fun to write so make sure you stay tuned!

<3

[dr-jem-nutcase]

I got bored so I made some MvA parenting HCs

Susan

Her kids are probably named after their grandparents and/or great-grandparents

From day one, her lock screen and home screen on her computer, tablet, phone, etc. are pictures of her kids

The best monster with babies

Does her best to be really gentle, considering her size and strength

Holds her kids when they cry (no matter how old they are) and puts together/orders their favorite snack if they had a bad day

The type of mom who lets her kids' artwork cover the fridge doors and later keeps them in a box in her storage space for all eternity and only throws away stuff like any food crafts that started growing mold

Lots. And lots. And lots. And lots of pictures and videos

Bedtime stories every night, no matter how she feels. And almost always from a book

If she has daughter, she LOVES styling their hair: pigtails, curlers (for stuff like Christmas pictures), hair clips, you name it

As a former fashionista, she loves coordinating her kids' outfits. But if they don't want to wear matching outfits, she'll respect that

Watches a movie first to see if there's anything she thinks is inappropriate and keeps her own streaming accounts under lock and key (albeit digitally). She wants to protect her kids' innocence while she still can

Handling the other monsters in occasions like their two visits to Modesto (in the movie & Halloween special) gave her plenty of practice for handling problematic kids

The teen years are hard because she's learning to give her kids some sense of independence and just the fact that they're growing up, as much as she always wants to be there for them. Just wait until they graduate high school and leave for college

B.O.B.

Everyone knows he means well but they know better than to leave him alone with a child. It'd be no better than leaving a toddler alone with an actual baby

Has a baby doll or animal plushie instead and takes VERY good care of it...until he gets distracted

So yeah, no different from a three-year-old with a baby doll

Link

More comfortable being the uncle type than a dad

The awkward but fun uncle who lets his nieces/nephews do a lot of the things their parents wouldn't allow like staying up past their bedtime, wrestling, driving his jeep before the legal age, having Twinkies and root beer for breakfast, etc.

He goes into a mild panic when he loses sight of them

He tells the kids embarrassing stories about their parents in their younger years

He'd also teach them "valuable life lessons" like how to give someone a wedgie or actually legit stuff like "follow your heart but for Pete's sake take your brain with you"

Ok, now to the parent part!

NOT fond at all of late nights or early mornings when it comes to babies and kids

Scared to death of holding babies, even if they were his own babies. Like he's gonna accidentally break them or something. Also he's also very uneasy when a baby cries in a close proximity, like he has no idea what to do, like how do you make it stop?

You know what? Be a dear and don't leave him alone with anyone under the age of two, just to save his poor nerves

Rarely calls his kids by their names. He calls them nicknames like kid, squirt, slugger, champ, etc.

Likes to roughhouse with his kids but has to remember not to be too rough. Lets them win in a wrestling match and then denies his defeat, playfully of course

Lots of beach trips and trips to anywhere without cold water. Those kids will learn how to swim before they learn to walk

Lets them turn up the volume on any music. Anything except classical, traditional country/bluegrass, 2000s-early 2010s boy bands, or anything that gets easily gets stuck in your head ("Let It Go" was the worst 3½ minutes of every day for at least 1-2 years)

Mess with his kid(s), and he'll knock you into next week

He would rather have his kids go after sports and athletics than chess, spelling bees, or piano lessons. He says, "how are those gonna prepare them for the future?"

Handles teenagers better than the other monsters. He's a cool dad

Graduations and sports games/competitions? Proudest papa there ever was

Dr C

We already got to see a bit of dadroach in the TV series, but let's add some more, shall we?

Measures their height and the circumference of their heads on a regular basis as they grow up, a nod to Marie Curie and her 2 daughters

Helps out with their homework, that's a no brainer [TV show h/c: Smarty is strictly forbidden to help, as much as he and the kids might try]

Sets curfews, limits their amount of screen time and junk food, works out a nutritious balanced meal plan complete with daily vitamins

Wants everything, from media to pastimes to outings, to be educational and intellectually stimulating but enjoyable, which he has to work on the latter

Posh and elegant upbringing. Girls are brought up as fine ladies and boys as refined gentlemen. Not that they can't be rambunctious or play tough sports or anything, but they're brought up to not slouch or put their elbows on the dining table

In the meantime, he has to try to remember to not be an overly practical parent. As Link says, "Doc, you gotta let a few of their brain cells rot every now and then"

Reads books on child psychology every night, albeit when everyone else is asleep. He's quite thankful for these

Nobody's allowed in his lab [area], not until they're in high school. Though one time 1-2 of the kids snuck into the lab when he was away. He found out about this later; he didn't say or do anything, no grounding or lectures or anything, but he installed security cameras around the area with a big warning note on the entry way

Has a really hard time with teenagers, probably the hardest time out of all the monsters or Monger

Embarrasses his teenage kid(s) to no end. Most of the time he doesn't mean to. The lame "dad" jokes (like "cat's me-wow") and the maniacal laughter are always gonna be the death of them

Graduations? He wants his kids to go on and succeed in colleges and universities but he has had to learn and accept the fact that it won't be the end of the world if they pursue something else besides a degree

(Criminelly! I really need to relearn to draw this guy again!)

Insecto

Two words: Mama Bear

Makes this soft purring sound as a means of comforting

Monger

It's kind of a sick idea to make a 90 y.o. man a father to children, so let's time travel to the 1940s-60s

His kids are early risers, no sleeping in

They wake up every morning to that same bugle wake-up tune from the military

Instills patriotism into them. They stand for the national anthem with their hands over their hearts, know the pledge of allegiance, etc.

Nobody gives an evil eye like Papa Monger

They eat whatever's set in front of them at the table. No ifs, ands, or buts

The upbringing and memories of his Mama Monger are his bible

The only lazy days are Sundays. He holds that old school/southern regard that Sundays are different from the other days of the week (he's not religious btw)

If he has daughters, they're going to get their hands dirty. No sense in get a manicure hours before working in a barn, so prettying up is for special occasions only

His sons are manly men and are taught how to treat a lady

After-school activities other than homework include helping out at the farm and extra PE

Thinks public school PE is inadequate and "for sissies". His kids might as well train for the army or a post-apocalyptic world: chin-up bars, rope climbing, the mother of hopscotch, target practice, survival skills, even parkour, etc.

Takes them camping every summer, and we're talking tents, campfires, etc. No glamping, let alone any electricity (except for flashlights)

The only pets allowed are herding dogs (collies, shepherds, heelers, etc.). They're not just pets; they're working dogs for the farm too. They get to sleep on the front porch, much to the kids' chagrin

Believe it or not, he gets pretty uneasy when it comes to a girl's time of the month. He hides it pretty well though. Shopping for female sanitary items and any food cravings is one of his worst nightmares

Probably the most intimidating dad to meet if someone wanted to date his daughter(s)

Nobody's allowed to use his jetpacks, though he does want to teach his kids how to use a parachute. They'll get one of their own when they turn 18 or 21

On their graduation or wedding day? so proud that he could cry...if he hadn't lost his tear ducts in the war

Invisible Man [my h/c is that he had 3 kids, so let's go!]

Was pretty stinkin excited and nervous about being a dad. He fell in love with it all on the day his eldest was born

His eldest, a boy, is an almost literal clone of him, minus the invisibility of course

The favorite parent hands-down

Waited until his kids grew up a little to take them on road trips or any special vacations because he wanted them to remember those experiences for themselves. "You can't take a six-month-old to the Grand Canyon." He told his wife. "They'll never remember it!"

The type of dad that hugs his kids and picks them up when he gets home from work

Best piggyback rides in the world

Didn't mind it one bit when he carried his sleeping kids to bed, even if they pretended to be asleep

Bedtime stories every night to the best of his ability. Most of the time, he'd ditch the books and create his own stories

The one way his kids could REALLY make him mad was by disrespecting their mom in any way, shape, or form

The warmest his heart had ever been was when one of his sons told him, "I wanna be just like you, daddy". That man was over the moon for quite some time

[susan-enthusiast]

Sweet/random Susan headcannons!

Loved roller skating! She was very good at it too! (No explanation needed for this headcannon)

Is decent at cooking, but not the best at it

A bisexual with a preference for women (post Derek situation)

Cat person!! She absolutely loves cats

Loves swimming! Especially the California oceans. I mean, she's a Cali girl, what do you expect?

Decent singer, I'd imagine! I mean, Reese Witherspoon does have a good singing voice, so I'd imagine she has a good voice too.

Type to read books from time to time

I feel like she'd be good at art

With my character Nancy, I feel like Susan would absolutely love to just, hold her in her arms, silently rubbing her back in a comforting way.

Loves all the monsters equally

I feel like she'd love Instagram, probably her favorite app

Would love going to museums

Played at least one instrument in High School (probably violin)

Probably was a cheerleader too, I wouldn't doubt that.

Her parents threw her birthday parties up until she was 19 (she didn't hate them, she was getting older and more independent.)

Only ever dated Derek, he asked her out in her Junior year.

Listens to music like 24/7

The only way you can tell that she's upset is that she'll be VERY quiet, even for a giant woman.

Definitely had an obsession with boy bands as a kid

It never specified her age in the movie, so I'm gonna assume she was 23-26?

Got bullied in middle school for her looks

Never the popular girl in high school, just your average person

Derek was probably popular though

Hates dark chocolate

Very sentimental about every holiday

I think the reason her hair turned white was (a.) The quantonium, or (b.) She was super stressed, you know, literally growing 50 feet tall and not knowing what was happening to you, which caused her hair to change.

A very big hugger! She loves hugging Nancy, and pressing little kisses all over her face <3

I'll probably make more of these lmao

[plotandburn]

Harry Potter Gets Adopted By

Rules:

No reader-inserts, self-inserts or unhappy endings are allowed.

spanking, watersports, extremely underage ships or parent/child incest are only allowed if portrayed on a negative light.

Peter Petigrew and Dolores Umbridge must be bashed

Dumbledore must be gay and atracted to Grindewalt and Grindewalt alone.

poor grammar is not allowed (you don't need a beta but at least use grammarly some form of grammar corrector)

You are not allowed to bash Severus Snape, Sirius Black,Draco Malfoy or Remus Lupin.

In the prompts set on Timmy's Era, Timmy himself can't be praired with: Tottie, Chloe Carmichael, Geraldine Waxelplax or His Parents.

Out of Timmy Turner's Peers, Only Trixie Tang is allowed to,should the writer chose, be a wixen,everyone else has to remain a muggle...and yes that includes Timmy himself.

Timmy's Secret Wish! is garbage and therefore should be compleatly ignored in each and every single prompt on this list. Same applies to the Grow Up Timmy Turner movies

Like a good portion of the fandom, i hate Sparky the dog so the writer of these prompts must pretend that Sparky never even existed to begin with and thus any epiosdes centered on him must be disconsidered entirely.

However episodes where he is featured as a side character can be included,just replace him with Poof

While Chloe Carmichael is allowed to exist and live in dimsdale she is not allowed to have fairies. On these prompts we are going under the rule that "Fairies only grant wishes to miserable people of the dominant species of Earth whose misery was caused by circunstances outside of their control. If the godchild for whatever reason becomes cheerful or the godkid says, "I'm happy and don't need my godparents anymore," the fairies will leave them and search for another miserable kid"...meaning that : No Chloe you can't get fairy odd parents because you stupidly chose to help a monster and that caused you misery for...like a day.

Hagrid can only be paired with Madame Maxine and no one else

Mad Eye Moody and Amelia Bones can't be paired with anyone

Minerva Mcgonagal can only be paired with Poppy Pomfrey or anyone on the staff that she never taugh herself.

Crabbe and Goyle can only be paired with Astoria Greengrass, Daphne Greengrass,Milicent, Susan Bones, Hannah Abbot, eachother or an Oc.

Cosmo/Wanda must be endgame.....Anti-Cosmo/AntiWanda however must NOT.

Da Rules must be followed.

New Rules that must be added later:

Rules 1 ("When a godkid reveals whose fairies theirs secretly are, they and any other witnesses shall have their memories wiped by Jorgen and his agents (who can sometimes make the godchild horribly disfigured) and their fairies and magical items they have come in contact will be taken away by Jorgen. However, if Jorgen doesn't find out, he can't take the godkid’s fairies away or if the witnesses understand how much the fairies means to the godchild then said child can keep them under conditions that the witnesses have their memories erased.") and 27 ("When you has reached the age of no longer needing a fairy or when they are completely grown-up personality-wise, they will have their mind erased of all memories involving their fairy/fairies, the fairy/fairies will leave either in the Fairy Cab or with Jorgen Von Strangle and everything magic will disappear forever.") do not aplly to wixens as the fairy's method of memory erasure is not effective against wixens and....even if it where every single wixen can see and hear fairies even when they are disguised.

Now...onto the prompts. These will be divided into "Timmy's Era", "There's no way this is not Crack", "In Between eras" and Tammy & Tommy's Era".

so....Lets Go:

1.

so.....aparently fanon decided to name them Nataliya Turner & Daran Turner so if you ever want a name for them feel free to use those. Anyway, in this instance Harry would basically be Timmy's brother wich means that they would not only share parents but also fairy godparents and...you guessed Vicky! so while Mrs and Mr Turner would treat them with love on the few ocasions in wich they are present they would also be absent more often than not. Uh....this Harry could fit into basically any house and date anyone,much like Timmy so... the sky is the limt.

2.

.like in the first prompt Harry would have to face Vicky...only now he would face her pretty much 24/7 only being free from her in the brief moments were she leaves to babysit/tourment other kids so....Cosmo & Wanda would not be his fairies,'cause they would belong to Timmy at this point but he should probably get someone else.....or not,choice is up to you. This harry would definetly be a griffyndor 'cause he would resent his parents for being so coward. Pretty sure he wouldn't favor readheads 'cause they would remind him of Vicky.

3.

Harry would basically be Remmy's brother wich means he would share Juandissimo and the extreme emotional neglect so...he probably be starved for affection of any kind and cling to Remy and any friends that he makes. This Harry would probably be a huflepuff and as for ship...pretty much anyone besides Percy, Severitus and Hermione is ok.

4.

This Harry would have everything he could ever ask for and a best friend for life in the form of his own sister Trixie who would use his status as a boy to make her dad buy a shit ton of boy stuff like comics wich they would then share, with Harry hiding everything in his room. Harry would be pretty happy overall but he would often wish that their dad never forced them to uphold the image of distant popular kids (and yeah...pretty sure it's their parents 'cause Trixie definetly dosen't pay the securty guard herself). He would be pretty sympathetic of Timmy and even act friendly towards him on ocassions where they do talk. This Harry would probably be either a Gryffindor or a Sytherin and i think he would be better suited for a slytherin due to his upbringing.

5.

Harry would basically be Aj's brother, thus he would basically HAVE to be science Genious in order to fit in...or you could go a different route and have him be an art genious instead...but he'd have to be a genious of some kind. This Harry would probably fit in Ravenclaw or Slytherin. Recomended ships: Hermione, Percy, Neville or Luna

6.

This Harry is Chester's brother and would probably bond with the Weasley's more than anyone else,due to their similar upbringing. I think it would be funny if... Despite being a Mcbadbat he was actually awesome at baseball. He would probably be Slytherin or a gryffindor. As for ships, the sky is the limt.

7.

Ok so...they basically either raise Harry in the Anti-Fairy world to be their godson or turn him into an Anti-Fairy so that he can be their son by blood (choice is up to you). Regardless of your choice though, Harry would probably end up as a goth...and probably a bookworm due to Anti-Cosmo's influence. He would be much less of a goody goody, taking active joy in watching his parents (whom he would view as such regardless of your choice) cause bad luck on friday 13th.I'd imagine he would be more drawn towards Percy, Hermione, The Weasley Twins or any slytherin that is not Crabbe or Goyle and his house would be either slytherin or ravenclaw.

There's No Way that's not Crack:

1.

Harry would be the og Cleft the Boy Chin Wonder but he would be SUPER tired of constantly fighting crime, thus would basically jump for joy whenever Timmy Turner takes his place with Cosmo and Wanda turning him into Timmy and sending him into the real world to fool Timmy's parents wich would become harder once he gets his Hogwarts letter at 11 and has to leave USA for several months . He would be unaware that he lives in a comic book untill Timmy mentions the comic's writer to his dad and one of their arch nemesis. This Harry would definetly be either a Huflepuff or a Ravenclaw and as for shipping....i think anyone who dosen't view him as an idol or a soldir.

2.

This Harry would be SO embarassed of his dad....Like....for real....You think Chester Mcbadbat is embarassed of his dad? well that is nothing compared to what Harry James West fells. He wishes he could die everytime is dad does cat stuf in plublic and it forced him to basically grow up super fast in order to be his dad's owner (in a non sexual way ofc) meaning he is the one to give him food in a bowl and clean his shit from the sandbox. He basically hates his life so when the hogwarts letter comes he jumps for joy, trilled with the chance to get away but he does spend christmas with his dad 'cause he still misses him despite everything. Still he is as trilled as his canon self when presented with the oportunity to live with Sirius....speaking of Sirius, whoever picks this prompt must be a masterat writing comedy/humor cause They MUST provide me (and the other readers) with funny interactions between Wolfstar (together or not) and Catman/Adam West where the latter is irrationally frightened of the former two for being a dog animagus(Sirius) & a werewolf(Remus). This harry would definetly be a slytherin and would not date cat owners,cat people or cat animagus because he has had enough of cats in his life.

In Between Eras:

Ok so...the reason why this is "in between Eras" is because this prompt, like the one's that follow would happen in the movies timeline meaning it would be set in the 200's rather than in the 90's like Hp actually is. Harry would be a baby during the envents of Foop, only going to Hogwarts during Tammy & Tommy's era. being the son of who he is Harry James Skylark would have an amazing singing voice & dance skills wich would probably be what atracts his romatic interest to him. He would probably be Gryffindor or a Ravenclaw and as for shipping....i think anyone who dosen't view him as an idol for the get go.

Tammy and Tommy's Era:

1.

this prompt in particular is what inspired this whole list and it was created based on the pixies last line on the following episode:

So in this pompt Harry is adopted by the pixies who raise him...pretty much the same way they raised Flappy Bob meaning Harry is...basically raised to be a brilliant executive who legit thinks desk job is fun. This Harry would probably be a Slytherin or Ravenclaw and....TBH out of everyone i think he would be most Drawn to the Weasley Twins, who would hate his parents instantly for how they raised him and show him new ways to have fun.

2.

This would be the only instance where Harry would still go by his birth name for no reason other than the fact that, while he would very much view Cosmo & Wanda as his parents and they would with time view him as a son, he would still be raised at the Dursley's. Cosmo and Wanda would be assigned to him as soon as Albus Dumbledore leaves him on their doorstep and they would be the one's who actually provide Harry with the love and care that he needs. This Harry would be no different than canon Harry so...the sky is the limit on both houses and shipping.

[thessalian]

Thess vs Balcony Garden 2023

The spring planting has begun!

This year I decided to get a little less ambitious about the vegetables. Feels a bit weird given the food shortages and everything, but it was a hassle for too little reward on my balcony. I still have my strawberries, and those of my herbs that survived from last year, but last year I got like one cucumber and two helpings each of peas and spinach and while the lettuce was very successful, it was also the world’s biggest aphid magnet and just no. So instead, I’m doing something a little different and livening up the balcony with flowers as well as herbs. So! Here’s what I will have on my balcony garden if everything goes according to plan this year:

Parsley (left over from last year)

Sage (left over from last year)

Rosemary (left over from last year)

Thyme (left over from last year and THIS IS WHY I CALL IT THE SCARBOROUGH FAIR ASSORTMENT)

Oregano (left over from last year)

Mint (left over from last year)

Strawberries (left over from last year)

Coriander (or cilantro, for those who differentiate plant from seed)

Dill (some from the rescue dill but I planted some more just in case)

Lemon balm

Lavender

Basil

Tomatoes (this year I will cut them before they get taller than I am; that should get me more actual fruit out of it)

Cayenne pepper

Petunias

Zinnias

Asters

Daisies

Black-Eyed Susans

Marigolds

Hollyhocks

Poppies

Forget-Me-Nots

Those last three are getting planted tomorrow. I could have done them tonight but nope, I will be sensible and kind to myself and not do that.

Besides, I have something else to be doing with my evening, which I just realised I should probably do. I have plans in the region of chicken adobo and I should start the marinade a-marinading. It’s going to be a chicken-rich sort of month; as well as the adobo, I’m trying chicken chasseur for the first time, and I’ll be doing some risotto, and the chicken broccoli pasta bake that serves me so well generally. I also have plans to do lamb dopiaza and aloo gobi again, and I’m thinking French onion soup, and cottage pie. Also pinasugbo (at least once I get back down to Peckham because there’s a very strong Filipino presence in the area, which means half the markets on the high street have saba bananas).

So here’s to spring. Yeah, there’s an awful lot out there that’s going significantly to shit, but I will make tasty things and grow useful and pretty things and I will make the best of it. Well, first I will make marinade.

[blurrypetals]

Hell Followed With Us by Andrew Joseph White - blurrypetals review

originally posted nov. 15, 2024 - ★★☆☆☆

[read for my book club, Prose and Cons]

This book was not an enjoyable experience, but for once, I don't mean that entirely as an insult...but I don't mean it exactly as the most glowing praise, either.

I'm feeling firmly in the middle about this book. The concept is incredibly interesting. It reminded me at first of Angelfall by Susan Ee, which is one of my favorite series with its angelcore body horror and post-apocalyptic setting, but I think where the two differed greatly was both in execution and characters.

I simply never grew attached to any of the characters in this book, not even Benji, who we spend the most of the book with. It felt like, beyond killing the people responsible for infecting him, he doesn't have much direction as a character, and this applies to the whole novel, really. What's the goal? What's the direction?

I don't know anything about any of the other characters besides that they're here, they're queer, and neurospicy. I am not queer, I am not autistic, but I do have queer friends and autistic friends, some who are both. Their queerness and autism defines them, yes, there is so much more to them as people as well as that. I feel like all I know about any of the side characters (and even Benji, too) is that they are queer or autistic or both. I was really excited to read a book with a character who used neopronouns, but I didn't know anything else about zem by the end of the book.

We sat with Benji for several hundred pages and I don't know a damn thing about him other than that he's gay and trans. Does he like like to read? Does he enjoy music? At least Nick had a hobby, even though it wasn't the most interesting or fleshed-out hobby with his beads, but Benji didn't have any interests or really even a personality. It brought me straight back to May the Best Man Win by Z.R. Ellor where the trans main character there was just an angry trans man and basically nothing else.

That all said, since I'm not queer or autistic, this book was not written for me, and I do understand that. I do, in fact, find the trans and autistic aspects of the novel to be some of the most interesting and well-written parts of the whole thing.

I really thought the idea of turning into a diseased monster as a metaphor for growing up in the wrong body was awesome. Living without the hormones you need, with your body actively fighting against you with the wrong hormones...I think this was easily the strongest aspect of the whole novel. As much as the gore itself bothered me, it was very well-written and I think this whole aspect is why this book is so highly rated.

I thought the imagery itself was kind of weak, however. I had an extremely hard time picturing things, even when the gore was described in truly excruciating detail, I always felt like Benji was fully transformed...but he wasn't. More skin and sinew would fall off and he still would be...human enough to get laid? I don't get it! I'm so lost as to what Benji looks like at any given time and I had no clue what the Graces were supposed to look like until I saw the Italian cover on here.

Also...how in the literal hell did this get marketed as YA? Beyond the basic, predictable plot, this has gore and body horror more extreme than most horror movies I've watched, but it's still marketed toward folks under eighteen? Make that make sense.

I didn't care for the romance, either. I can't say I felt like Benji and Nick have any chemistry beyond the scene with the bead lizards, so when Benji admits to having feelings for Nick, it really hit me like a freight train, feeling like the admission came completely out of nowhere.

In the end, this book simply wasn't written for me, nor was it impactful for me regardless. I think there is a lot of good writing here and just as much poor writing. I really wish I'd enjoyed this more, but it missed the mark for me in the end. I'll still probably read The Spirit Bares Its Teeth but with my expectations better tempered this time.

[jodilin65]

I snored myself awake when I could have used another hour or two of sleep and finally I said, I gotta do something about this shit. Sleep cursed or not, no getting around it or not, I've got to at least try something. So, since it will be a while before I see the next pulmonologist and even longer before and if I can get a mouthguard, I really do have to try to lose a little weight. I didn't have this problem 10 lb ago, although it still seems a hell of a coincidence that as soon as I move to a quieter place where traffic isn't waking me up, I start snoring myself awake. Again, it's like something always wants to fuck with my sleep. At least I wasn't as tired as I normally would be after being shorted on sleep. I really do think the waterbed is helping. It's so much more comfortable. The vitamins help too but I don't want to overdo it so I'm taking them every other day and will see how I feel.

Anyway, Atkins is a bit extreme and not good for people like me, so I'm thinking of going Keto. They recommend 20 to 50 carbs a day instead of just 20 like Atkins. Thanks to AI, I could really get some helpful info on it. Most of it is common sense but it's still nice that I can ask it for a menu plan if I want or if a specific food or drink is acceptable on that diet, what the carbs are, etc. I still don't want to drive myself too crazy with all kinds of restrictions. I also still don't think my body will give up its weight due to a combination of my thyroid, being older, and my body being used to being where it's at but I'm going to make one last-ditch effort along with trying to get help with the two sleep disorders. No matter what the doctor says, everything is up to the insurance company in the end. Never the patient and the doctor which is all wrong but just the way it is. They get the final say whether I like it or not, so if there's anything that can help me that I can't afford that they won't cover, I'm shit outa luck.

Thanks for all the story ideas some of you offered on different sites but I think I'm going to take a break for my story and come back to it later with a fresh mind and see what I want to do with it then. I might work on something a little simpler with a less intricate plot instead.

I was frustrated today because my Temu package arrived in Florida last night but it wasn't transferred to the post office in time to get to me today. Because tomorrow is a holiday, I'll have to wait till Friday.

Here we go with the fireworks again although it hasn't been nearly as bad as I thought it would be… yet. Tomorrow night I expect some chaos, understandably, because it will be the fourth but hopefully, it won't go on and on and on for so many hours. Like anyone really gives a shit about the country's birthday anyway as opposed to making noise to get attention?

I'm finishing up the first of five rides of VZ’s latest challenge which are in France in honor of the upcoming Olympics.

I read that Jordan Chiles almost quit gymnastics because she “didn't think the sport wanted her” because of her race and I’m like, she's kidding, right? After Gabby Douglas, Simone, and other black gymnasts, she really thought that? Some people really see racism in everything and I mean everything, even when it's not really there. It's attitudes like hers that make whites look bad.

Grow up, Jordan, and stop making excuses! If you want to throw your talent away and quit for other reasons, do it. But don't blame whites for why you really want to throw in the towel.

Since I bitched about the famous, how about the infamous? When I read that Susan Smith was up for parole, I couldn't help but ask how the hell someone can drown their two kids and have it shot at parole, even if they're unlikely to get it at first, while Jodi Arias can kill her gaslighting, mindfucking boyfriend (not that he deserved it), and get life with no chance of parole. WTF???

[merrock]

CHARACTER INFORMATION

face claim: Alex Fitzalan

full name: Chandler Linwood

nickname(s) / goes by: Chandler, Chan

pronouns & gender: cis man, he/him

sexuality: biromantic asexual

birth date: February 11th, 1997

birth place: Minneapolis, Minnesota

arrival to merrock: 2022

housing: the suburbs

occupation: freelance photographer, employee/barista at Pause for Paws

work place: Pause for Paws

family: John Linwood, Susan Linwood (parents, both still live in Minnesota)

relationship status: single

PERSONALITY

If you had to describe Chandler in one phrase, it could easily be "trust issues". He's not a bad person, but he's happy to let people assume the worst about him and roll with that reputation. It's the best way he knows to protect himself. It's not that he tries to act edgy or like a completely unlikeable jerk, but more that he keeps a wall between himself and most people. Sometimes that means sharpening his sarcastic nature into a weapon, but often times it results in more of a laid back, apathetically sarcastic presence. Find some common ground with him and his defenses will seem to lower, and you'll find yourself talking to a much kinder version of him. He can count on one hand the amount of people he feels he can fully be himself around. Those 'lucky' few will receive wild video game/cartoon conspiracies, unhinged memes at three in the morning, and random tupperware containers of delicious food he's made too much of. After nearly a year of living in Merrock, he's just now starting to believe that he's finally on stable ground in his life, but he still has a strong self-sabotaging streak that he's willfully and stubbornly oblivious to. 

WRITTEN BY: Elle (she/her), est.

BACKGROUND / BIO

tw: alcoholism, vague mental illness, implied abuse, brief mentions of death

Chandler was born in Minneapolis, Minnesota, to John and Susan Linwood. Although his earliest years were spent living in the city, almost all of his childhood memories were made at the family's next home in the suburb of Wayzata. His mom was an ER doctor, and his dad had a cushy office job (although he didn't have the passion for his career that Susan did). On the outside, they were the all around perfect American dream family. But reality is never that simple, and things were quite different behind closed doors. Between Susan's long hours at the hospital, and John's nasty habit of getting wasted every night, Chandler had to grow up fast. One thing his mom impressed on him from a young age was not to tell anyone what was happening at home or reach out for help. This led to a general distrust of authority figures and a lot of acting out at school.

By the time Chandler was a teenager, things at home had deteriorated even more. He wasn't sure how much of that was his parents actually getting worse, and how much of that was him growing up and being able to understand what 'normal' was supposed to look like. It wasn't that they didn't love him, and he knew he was at least lucky to know they truly cared about him. But he realized more and more that they were simply two people who never should have started a family, especially not with each other.

It wasn't until college that Chandler learned about asexuality, so he spent a lot of high school confused. He had always been romantically and aesthetically attracted to every gender. But when his friends would talk about sex, he couldn't relate to what they were saying. Surely, people didn't just look at each other and think 'I wanna fuck that person', or obsess over sex the way they claimed to...right? He spent most of high school trying to feel the way everyone else did. He thought if he just slept with the right person, it would all click into place. It never did. But he did develop quite the reputation for sleeping around and drinking too much at parties. The second thing was the only way he could really escape Wayzata at the time, but he had a plan. Get into a good, out of state college and never look back. Most people assumed he didn't really take his studies seriously, that he had somehow gotten into mostly AP classes by coasting. But he was balancing taking care of his parents, mountains of homework and keeping up a crazy social life like he was constantly walking some kind of tightrope all while acting like nothing phased him.

It paid off when the acceptance letters started coming in. Chandler chose a school that was far enough away from his parents to avoid getting sucked back into Wayzata. He refused to be a sad pop punk song about some angsty kid who never escaped their hometown. When he got to college, Chandler quickly realized he had never thought that far ahead. He had no idea what he wanted to major in, or do with his life now. He realized part of him never expected to succeed in leaving Minnesota behind. At the same time he was struggling to find interest in his school work, he found his life revolving around college parties. He reasoned to himself that this is exactly what college kids were supposed to do; drink too much several times a week and then go to class exhausted the next day.

It only took him a couple years to spiral out of control. After meeting a girl at a party, they hit it off and got serious pretty quickly. She had her own issues that didn't mix well with his own. At her insistence, he dropped out of college (he was still aimlessly drifting around campus taking gen-ed classes without being any closer to figuring out what his major should be). After that, he was extremely isolated and his whole life revolved around her. Their relationship became more toxic and by the time Chandler realized he needed to leave, he no longer knew how to. So he stayed with her for a awhile longer, relying on drinking and other self destructive habits to numb himself to his life.

His one-way ticket out of the college town came in the form of a phone call from his dad. John's brother had died. Uncle Paul had an ex-wife (it was a nasty divorce that had dragged out through much of Chandler's teen years), but no children. He didn't live in Minnesota, but sometimes he'd come stay at the house for a week or two and watch Chandler while his parents went out of town on a kid-free trip and he always treated Chandler like the son he never had. He was the closest thing Chandler had to an adult he could trust (although he never discussed his parents quirks with his uncle - even as an adult he never wanted to open that can of worms). Without any immediate family of his own, Paul had left his vacation home in Maine to Chandler. He didn't think twice before packing what he could in a suitcase and going to check out Merrock himself. He's been there ever since.

Chandler had a history of doing freelance photography to fill the gaps between what his parents were sending and the cost of living. But, as much as he enjoyed photography, he didn't have the connections in Merrock to go full-time with it. And he was so new to town, he didn't know how reliable it would be for income in the long run. So he got a job at Pause for Paws. It might seem like an odd fit for someone who's not exactly warm and fuzzy himself, but Chandler loves animals and had never really been able to have a pet in his life. And with him being really into cooking and a good amateur bartender, he figured those skills would be transferrable to working in a cafe. Since getting more settled into small town life, he has adopted a dog named Jenna and a cat from the cafe he named Ryan Renolds. 

[uf200singleproject]

The Impact of the Stigma: Internal

While the external social climate shifts over time, the internal impact of being labeled as “deviant” isn’t guaranteed to reflect positive change in real time. These internalized perceptions of deviance take time and reinforcement to form, and the resulting internal script of who we “should” be takes time and effort to break down.

Elizabeth Sharp and Lawrence Ganong’s journal article “’I’m a Loser, I’m Not Married, Let’s Just All Look at Me’: Ever-Single Women’s Perceptions of Their Social Environment” (yes, that’s the full title) explores these self-perceptions of deviance by interviewing single women in their late 20s to mid-30s.

I noticed that, as a fairly consistent result of the frequent pressure, pity, and questioning over their marital status, these women “felt they had to explain and justify being never-married at their ages.”1 One woman admitted that she usually responded with the fact that she had been engaged before so people would know that she was not “a total loser” and that there was proof that “someone used to like [her].”2 And I felt that to my core.

These women’s responses reminded me of my own fears and Michelle’s words. When it seems like romance is valued above all else at a certain age, whether that’s true or not, you feel the need to show others that you are at the very least capable of such a thing—to prove that you aren’t “broken.” Even as people shift towards acceptance, that muscle memory doesn’t simply disappear.  

In the article “Dealing with the Pressure of Being Almost 30 and Not Married,” Amanda Swanson reflects on the internalized expectations of herself she’d held throughout her life. She says, “Up until a few years ago, I would have thought I’d be married by now and maybe even have kids. I never really questioned the American Dream, or pictured my life any other way other than married and having a family. […] Because you head towards 30 trips around the sun and you find someone to marry and you pop out kids. That’s just what you do, right?”3

Right?

I think that alongside the shame that can come from deviating from the norm, and alongside the idea that your differences mean you don’t “measure up” to everyone else, for many women raised believing that marriage and children was the direction their life was headed, there was an identity tied to that future.

And when things aren’t the way you’d been told they would be, that identity can get positively scrambled.

I know all of these self-perceptions are difficult to quantify, to justify, to accept, and to grow alongside. I know all of these self-perceptions are even harder to extricate from the perceptions of others that hit hard enough to stick.

But as long as our culture continues to shift, and as long as women like Susan B. Anthony and Emma Watson and even Disney princesses like Elsa and Merida continue to elevate the richness of women’s lives without need for romance—and to elevate the definition of the self by what we choose—then there will be space for all the “spinsters” of today and tomorrow to exist in the open, to pursue all manner of connection, and to cultivate identity without shame.

1-2. Sharp, Elizabeth A., and Lawrence Ganong. “I’m a Loser, I’m Not Married, Let’s Just All Look at Me”: Ever-Single Women’s Perceptions of Their Social Environment. Journal of Family Issues, 2011, p. 967. doi-org.libproxy.boisestate.edu/10.1177/0192513X10392537.

3. Swanson, Amanda. "Dealing with the Pressure of Being Almost 30 and Not Married.” Life Goals Magazine, 2019, lifegoalsmag.com/pressure-almost-30/.