#anywho i wanted to practice my backgrounds a bit so i locked if in

[dreamyblanket]

OMG UR ART IS SO CUTE😭😭😭

If it’s okay, could I please request pure vanilla comforting sad reader? It’s ok if not! Art can be stressful lol.

Hiiiii As always rambling in the tags and I added the gray scale under the cut bc I think it also looked nice ^^u

[alternative-approachtochronology]

Happy Anniversary to me!

One year ago I asked @rain-down-knowledge to be my girlfriend and she said yes!

To celebrate (and as part of my gift) I have written this incredibly self indulgent domestic fluff. No plot, no real point, but it was fun to write, enjoy!

Yang nervously shifted the plastic wrapped bouquet in her hands as she walked up to her front door. It had been three years but she still worried Blake wouldn’t like her gifts. She took a deep breath in, reassuring herself that Blake would love it, and exhaled as she opened the door and stepped in.

The empty downstairs greeted Yang as she  placed her keys on the hook by the door, placed the flowers down as she sat on the bench by the door to take off her work boots. As she undid the laces she heard movement upstairs. Smiling, Yang stepped out of her boots, retrieved the flowers, and padded up the stairs.

 “Blake?” Yang gently called at the top of the stairs, announcing her presence. Hearing a responding hum she made her way to the master bath.

 As she walked in, Yang saw Blake, back to her, touching up her makeup in the mirror. Yang slid an arm across her shoulder and gently pulled her into an embrace, moving the flower into her field of vision.

 “Happy anniversary Love” Yang pressed a kiss to Blake’s temple.

 “Mm, happy anniversary to you too Babe. These flowers are beautiful!” Blake took the flowers from Yang and turned to give her a kiss on the lips, “I love you.”

  As Blake turned to stand, Yang took a few steps back to give her room. As they stood face to face Yang was finally able to take in Blake’s outfit.

 “Wow,” Yang’s eyebrows rose as she took her girlfriend in. Blake was wearing a loose floral button up adorned with dark purple flowers with yellow accents that draped from her chest and flared out with her hips, her dark denim pants contrasted the white background of the shirt and made the flowers pop even more. “You look-” Yang paused as she scrambled for an adjective, “so fucking good.”

 “Gee thanks babe.” Blake rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress the smile that bloomed across her face. Blake walked past Yang and across to their bedroom dresser. “I still have to choose a necklace, and do something with these,” she raised the bouquet in her hand, “ and then I’m ready to go after you get ready.” She placed the flowers down and picked up a simple gold chain. “A little help?”

 “Hm, what time are those reservations again?” Yang walked up behind Blake and draped the chain around the front of her neck and quickly closed the clasp as Blake swept her hair aside in a well practiced maneuver between the two. Instead of backing away, Yang dropped one hand to Blake’s hip, the other brushing the hair back to reveal her neck again and pressed a lingering kiss where her neck sloped into her shoulder. 

 “About an hour.” There was a hint of laughter in Blake’s voice. “Just enough time for you to shower and change out of your greasy shop clothes.” Blake felt the hand on her hip wrap around her stomach and be joined by Yang’s other hand as Yang gently rested her head on Blake’s shoulder.

 “Any way I could convince you to join me in the shower?” Yang’s voice was soft and warm in Blake’s ear. She was tempted to give in, but they had been planning to try this restaurant for weeks.

 “Yang,” Blake was gentle, firm, and a bit teasing as she turned in Yang’s arms to give her a pointed look. “I already showered and got ready. You’ll have to go this alone.” Blake pulled her in for a quick peck on the lips before stepping out of the embrace to collect the flowers from the dresser. “I’m going to go put these in some water.”

  Yang dramatically threw her head back. “Fine,” she huffed, a smile dancing on her face as she lifted her head. “Guess I’ll just have to get ready all on my lonesome,” her voice was teasing as she pulled the collar of her shirt over her head, reliably drawing Blake’s eyes to the plane of her stomach.

 Blake felt her fingers itch with the desire to feel her skin but shook herself out of it. She grinned at her girlfriend’s behavior as she watched Yang stretch exaggeratedly  and turn towards the bathroom as she began to take off her pants, twisting her head to throw Blake a wink on the way to the shower. Blake shook her head, starting down the stairs as the shower stuttered to life. 

 Having cut the flowers and retrieved Yang’s gift from behind the couch Blake settled in with her book as she waited for Yang to get ready. Yang never took too long to get ready, but a long day at the mechanic’s shop typically prompted a longer shower than usual.

  Soon enough Yang was walking down the stairs and it was Blake’s turn to struggle for words. Yang had on a crisp, tailored, white button up, sleeves cuffed to her elbows, tucked into some slim fitting black jeans. Around her neck she was wearing a simple amethyst on a chain, drawing out her beautiful lavender eyes. “Ready to go?” Yang looked up from fidgeting with the leather strap of her watch to see a breathless Blake.

 “Hm? Oh! Yes!” Blake snapped back to attention. “That shirt looks fucking fantastic on you.”

  Yang chuckled, “Thank you, I think you say that everytime I wear it.”

 “It keeps being true!” Blake countered as she stood. “You have everything?”

  Yang hummed in affirmation as she retrieved her things from the entryway. Opening the door, Yang flourished with her hand to cue Blake to go first, “M’Lady,” she did a mock bow and looked to Blake who promptly rolled her eyes.

 “Really? I’ve put up with three years of this?” Blake questioned as she walked through the door.

 “Oh, you love it.” Yang followed behind Blake, locking up behind them.

 “I do.”

  Dinner was a quiet conversation tucked into each other’s sides in a corner booth over a steaming hotpot. Stories from their days, childhood, and dreams were exchanged between bites of fish and sips of broth.

   Afterwards the couple found themselves on a bench at the beach to watch the sunset and exchange gifts.

 “Ooh, a ring box! Babe,” Yang teased as she pulled a small velvet box out of a gift bag.

 “Don’t worry, it’s not that. Not yet.” Blake said with a chuckle. Yang opened the box and immediately put a hand over her mouth. “I was talking to Tai and he mentioned Summer’s earrings and how he didn’t know what to do with them since neither you or Ruby pierced your ears,” Blake rushed through the explanation, worried when she saw tears well in Yang’s eyes. “ I saved one for Ruby too so-”

 “Blake,” Yang’s voice was heavy with the sob she was holding back, “Thank you, I love it.” The hand she was using to cover her mouth stretched out to grab the hand Blake was waving as she spoke.

 “You do?” At Yang’s nod Blake sighed in relief, “Thank the gods. I was worried I’d overstepped.” Yang quickly shook her head and Blake continued, “I know you can’t wear it to work, there’s a chain in the bottom of the box.”

 “You thought of everything, huh?” Yang wiped the tears from her eyes and pulled the ring out of the box. A small ruby was set into a simple silver band. Yang slipped it on her finger and held out her hand to admire it. “I remember these earrings,” she said softly. “I lost one playing dress up once and Mom was so upset. We made cookies when we found them. I think she felt bad about blowing up.” Yang sniffed and Blake wrapped her hand around her wrist in support. “Anywho,” Yang cleared her throat and straightened up, “Your turn! Apparently we both went the jewelry route.” She pulled a larger, more shallow, box from behind her on the bench and handed it to Blake. 

 “Ooh!” Blake hammed it up a bit to try to lighten the mood, but her genuine excitement was betrayed as she eagerly took the box from Yang. She slowly snapped it open to reveal a traditional wooden fish hook necklace from Menagerie with a yellow garnet adorning the eye of the hook. “Oh,” Blake gently ran the pads of her fingers over the intricate engravings on the surface of the wood. “Yang, this is gorgeous! Where did you find it? I’ve never seen any Menagerie shops in Vale!”

 “Um,” Yang blushed at the praise of her gift. “When we were visiting your parents for your birthday, I asked your mom about getting you something traditional.” She fidgeted with the new ring on her hand. “You’ve been doing all that research into your family history. I guess I wanted to give you something to connect you to it.”

 “It’s perfect.” Blake held the pendant in her palm and used her other hand to cup Yang’s cheek and looked her in the eyes, “Thank you.” She leaned in for a kiss, Yang meeting her halfway and bringing a hand to rest on her collarbone.

 The two shared their quiet moment alone together. The orange glow of the sky casting long shadows as the sun set on this beautiful day.

[raysofcrosby]

WHEN YOU’RE READY PT. 3

𝘨𝘪𝘧 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘵 (𝘹)

𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥: yes and no

𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨(𝘴): umm i don’t think much, probs just some swearing :)

𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 5,664

𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘦: oof this took a long time to finish up. sorry about that. but anywho, if you haven’t read parts 1 and two, read them here and here!  tbh i was planning on making this a 4-part imagine, but i really like the way that this part ended–– so this is the end lmao. ummm ya, so anyway, sorry it took so long, i hope you enjoy and don’t forget to request! :) ok bye!

The first thing you noticed when you woke up the next morning was the ache in your head and body. Carter was lucky he was cute and that this was by far your weakest hangover, or else he'd have another thing coming. The second thing you noticed...was that you woke up in an empty bed. A lot of alcohol was consumed last night, but you were positive that you hadn't drunk enough for you to have imagined falling asleep next to Nolan. Or that you kissed him and he kissed you back before well...turning you down in the nicest way possible.

The third thing? You were lying in the middle of the bed...full-on spread eagle. 

"Oh shit, he was right," You groaned, rolling over onto your back and staring a the ceiling and grabbing the pillow next to you. "Oh God, I kissed Nolan." You pressed the pillow against your face, hoping that the lack of air would wake you up from this nightmare. But when your lungs started to burn, you tossed the pillow aside and sat up.

You weren't dreaming at all. You had kissed Nolan, your best friend since practically the womb. You tossed the blankets off of you and got out of his bed, racking your brain for any details of last night as you made your way into the kitchen. Opening the fridge, you reached inside and grabbed a snack-size pack of watermelon and a bottle of water, closing the fridge and walking towards the counter. Waking up in his bed and with him gone felt, to you, like a miserably failed and backward one-night stand. In normal ways, you were supposed to be the one leaving him in the early morning hours and going on with your day. But no, you lived here... with him and now you're just hoping that things wouldn't be awkward between the two of you. Though, there was always the couch.

You chewed on a small piece of watermelon as your phone lit up to see a text from Ryanne. You finished off the piece of watermelon when your eyes caught notice of what your phone was lying on top of. It was a note from Nolan.

Y/N,

At morning skate, be back soon (prob 11:30/12.) Let's grab lunch and talk a bit before tonight.

– Nol

Your eyes drifted lower to see Travis, a little neater than Nolan's, handwriting at the bottom of the page

P.S.

Don't touch my watermelon, you already stole my last parfait (ya dick.)

– Teeks

You looked down at the watermelon in front of you, swearing in your mind up and down that you had bought two of them. Taking another piece of watermelon, you picked up your phone and opened Ryanne's text

From Ryanne:

If you're not too hungover, would you want to get some lunch and maybe come shopping with me? Need some girl time, C is driving me nuts and I need to relax before the game tonight.

Ugh yes, as per usual Ryanne is there to save the day.

To Ryanne:

I'm so down! I need to get out of the apartment before the two terrors come back. How soon can you get here?

From Ryanne:

I can be there in 10 and you better spill the deets.

To Ryanne:

Of course xx

You locked your phone to see that it was almost 11 and Ryanne's arrival would be cutting it close for you to be able to avoid Nolan and Travis and the conversations you'd probably be having with the both of them. Not taking what little time you had for granted, you rushed to Nolan's bathroom and started to rush through your routine. You grabbed your toothbrush and toothpaste and took them into the shower with you, knocking two steps out in one. Though you knew you'd probably be regretting not leaving the conditioner in your hair for longer than you had, you practically ran out of the bathroom and down the hall back into Nolan's room...your towel no doubt nearly falling off of you.

You ruffled through the three drawers Nolan had let you take over and grabbed a quick and easy outfit– some jeans, a long sleeve t-shirt and a crumpled up sweatshirt off of the bed. You took your brush off of the dresser and ran in through your hair, trying not to struggle too much with the tangled bits. When you put it down, your phone started to ring. Rushing over, you picked it up and exhaled, glad to see that it was Ryanne. Sliding your thumb across the screen, you answered it. "Hey, you here?"

"Just downstairs. I think I might have passed Travis and Nolan getting ready to pull out of the arena parking lot on my way here. Did you want to wait and invi–"

"NO!" You yelled, balancing the phone between your cheek and neck as you grabbed your purse off of the floor and rushed out of the bedroom. "Sorry, I just...I'll be right down."

You hung up the phone, making sure you had your copy of the apartment key before locking it behind you and walking down the hallway. Not wanting to waste any time, you opt for taking the stairs instead of the elevator and if running down those steps didn't knock the breath out of you, the harsh cold air hitting you in the face the moment you stepped outside...sure did. You looked in the parking lot for Ryanne's car and spotted it just as she honked her horn three times.

Jogging over, you opened the passenger side door and got in, closing it behind you. "Drive, please."

"Jesus what crime did you commit?" She joked, putting the car into drive as she pulled out of their apartment complex. "Oh look, it's Nolan and Travis."

You sunk into your seat slightly, still obviously in view and tapped her thigh. "Drive, drive, drive, I beg you."

She looked at you with raised eyebrows before smiling. "Something happened between you and Nolan last night, didn't it?"

"Ryanne..."

"OOh, Claude so owes me $10." She smiled, turning on her blinker and turning out of the complex. "And you better believe you're going to tell me every single detail."                                             

                                                                 –-

"Wait...that's it? You guys just kissed?" She asked, bringing the hot chocolate up to her frowned lips. "No hot and heavy make-out session? Not even a little heavy petting?"

You picked at the number given to you by the cashier at the counter and rolled your eyes. "No, Ryanne. No heavy petting."

"Well I can't say that I'm not disappointed, but it is a good thing." She nodded down at her hidden bump and shot you a mischievous smile. "That's how this little one happened."

"Oh God, please don't go into detail. I'd like to be able to look Claude in the eyes again."

Ryanne just rolled her eyes as she took another sip of her drink. "Oh please, it's not like you've got virgin ears. Now explain to me why you were going all spy-like when we saw Travis and Nolan."

"I just told you–"

"No, you told me that you had a little heart to heart about whats-his-face and then you planted one on our favorite rosy-cheek boy. Nowhere in there did I hear a denial of his feelings."

You sighed and picked at your blueberry muffin wrapper. She had a point. There was no reason for you to run from Nolan like that, not a logical one anyway. "I just...don't want to be embarrassed, I guess?"

"Explain."

"I woke up and found a note on the counter from Nolan saying he wanted to talk when they got home from morning skate." You leaned back into your seat, taking a piece of your muffin with you. "And normally, 'we need to talk' isn't a positive thing. So I just freaked out, I guess."

Ryanne nodded her head as if she understood what you were saying. And maybe she did. Her and Claude had been dating long before you met the two of them. Dating or even being involved with an NHL player was brand new territory to you, one that she'd know how to navigate. But could it be the same thing as dating your best friend too?

"Please stop looking at me like that."

"Like what?"

You sighed and chewed on your muffin as you shook your head. Following the muffin down with some hot chocolate you rested your elbows on the table. "Like I'm some scared girl who's running from something possibly good for her because she doesn't want to get hurt again after being burned in a previous relationship."

Bringing her cup up to her lips, she smirked and nodded her head to the slight. "You said it, not me." After taking a sip, she leaned her elbows onto the table and looked at you. "But in all seriousness, are you just going to avoid him and pretend like nothing ever happened?"

You bit the inside of your cheek, considering her suggestion. "I mean, it'd be kind of hard to do that since I live with him and sleep in his bed."

She raised an eyebrow, "and?"

You groaned and rested your head in your hands. "And I really liked the kiss and wouldn't mind doing it again. Which is so weird because he's Nolan, my best friend."

"He's also the guy who managed to rock your world with a single kiss. Now imagine what he could do if there was some heavy petting and–"

Your ringtone cut her off and while you were silently praying to whatever universal magic there was, you were also panicking about who it could be that was calling you. Grabbing the phone out of your purse, you turned it over to see the same number from the clinic that had called you last night. "Hold on, a sec." You pressed the accept button and took a deep breath before bringing the phone to your ear. "Hello?"

"Hello, may I speak to Y/N L/N?" A voice that definitely wasn't Dr. Pippen, asked.

Your heart began to race. What if this was a different Doctor who was in charge of treatment for whatever venereal disease Preston had given you. "This is her."

"Hi Y/N, I'm Dr. Scott, I work here with Dr. Pippen, who called you yesterday with some test results."

 "Yes sir, he did call me yesterday. I'm supposed to receive the results for some more tests today."

Some shuffling of paper in the background only made you more nervous as Ryanne placed her hand on top of yours for comfort. "Well he's not in the office today, so I'm calling to give you your results." More shuffling of the paper only intensified the suspense before he cleared his throat. "Your HIV, Syphilis and Hepatitis B results all came back negative."

You sink down into your seat in relief as the weight on your shoulders lifted. "Oh Thank God."

"Is there anything else you need, Miss L/N?"

"No, no sir nothing else."

"Alright, well you have a good afternoon, and if you need any information on contraceptives and STD testing, we have pamphlets available at the clinic."

You felt your cheeks burn as his suggestion burned the image of Nolan sitting in the living room reading all of the pamphlets. Pamphlets he didn't have to grab but wanted to because he wanted to be able to help you and be by your side in case your results went the other direction. "Yes, thank you, Doctor."

You hang up the phone and looked at Ryanne whose eyes were wide. "So does this call for a little celebratory shopping?" She smiled, patting your hand.

You look back down at your phone to see text messages that must have come through during your call.

From Nol:

hey where are you? want to grab some lunch before pregame nap?

From Nol:

also has the doc called yet? what are the results? you're supposed to get them today, right?

From Teeks

you ate my fucking watermelon. didn't you get my note?

From Teeks:

i'm eating your leftover mac and cheese. consider us even.

You locked your phone again and shoved it into your purse, looking back up at Ryanne. "Any chance this shopping will last us till the guys have to be at the arena?"

She sighed and shook her head. "You're going to need to confront him at some point Y/N," standing up and downing the rest of the hot chocolate Ryanne tipped her cup to you with a smile, "but of course it can."

                                                 –––––––

The retail therapy with Ryanne was more than what you needed. 30 minutes into your second store, Target of all places, you felt happy. Ryanne went on and on about how the two of you needed to come shopping more often, especially since you had picked the cutest outfits for their soon to be, bundle of joy. Of course, you agreed to. Besides the few co-workers you had that were around your age, Nolan, and Travis...Ryanne was your closest friend.

When you got back to the apartment, it was empty and that alone was a relief. Your note from this morning was still sitting on top of the kitchen counter, only this time there was an additional one on top of it.

Y/N,

Check the bed for a surprise from 'the girls'. See you at the game tonight.

- Nol

p.s. you owe me watermelon. 

- Teeks

You couldn't help the way that your cheeks reddened and your heart rate sped up when you read that sentence in Nolan's handwriting. At first, you thought that maybe he had bought you something. Until you realized that, 'the girls' was no way Nolan would refer to himself as. Unless he enlisted the help of some of the fellow WAGs to get you something. You rolled your eyes at Travis's side note and made your way back into Nolan's bedroom. On the bed was a dark gray jean jacket with flyers patches on the upper parts of each sleeve. It looked pretty straight forward, no excessive designs on it– not the usual playoffs jacket you'd normally seen.

The moment you flipped it over, your heart dropped into your stomach. On the upper back was a patch that said 'Patrick' and right in the middle were big, bold numbers '19.' Flipping it back over, it was then you noticed the small '19' on the right breastplate.

This was a WAG jacket...for Nolan....for you.

You dropped it onto the bed and quickly got out your phone, calling Ryanne. "Hello?"

"Why am I staring at a jacket with Nolan's last name on it, right now?"

"Yay! They must have came in at practice today. Crystal said she'd bring them and give each of them to the guys to take home. Put it on, does it fit?"

"Ryanne. Why–"

"Oh shoot, I guess that means we're wearing them tonight, which totally screws up that outfit." A short pause took over before she gasped. "Unless you don't wear that tank under the sweater! Ooh, which I bet will accentuate your boobs even more for Nolan to–"

"WHY?" You didn't realize just how loud you had yelled into the phone until Ryanne's side of the call was completely silent. "Sorry Ryanne, I just...I'm really confused."

"Be ready in 15. I'm coming to get you. And Y/N, you better wear that outfit and that jacket."

With a quick click of the phone, Ryanne had ended your call. You sighed and put your phone back into your purse before looking at the jacket and then dumping your shopping bag contents onto the bed next to it.

Of course, you couldn't have let the shopping trip without Ryanne insisting that you buy a new outfit for the 'new and improved, y/n' as she put it. An outfit she solely picked out herself and claimed that her inspiration and end goal was, of course, something that would snatch Nolan's attention.

You tugged at the bottom of the one size too small sweater, wishing that it could stay tucked into your jeans as you planned it too. It wasn't until you realized just how much it accentuated your chest that you realized just how Ryanne planned for you to grab Nolan's attention. Deep breathing did the trick of keeping your calm. It is, of course, very bad to upset or be upset at a pregnant woman.

"Can someone please explain to me why we're wearing the jackets? It's not even playoffs yet." You groaned, adjusting your sweater beneath the decorated jean jacket given out amongst the wives. "And why I even have one? I'm not dating Nolan."

"Oh sweetie, maybe not officially. But we all know that the two of you might as well be dating." Crystal, Simmonds wife smiled, wiggling her eyebrows.

You sunk further down into your seat and bringing your beer up to your lips. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yes you do," Ryanne sang, smiling and looping her arm through your free one. "I think we're already planning your first date. I mean, if there's anyone who can push Nolan into finally asking you out it'll be Claude and Wayne. Those two are you biggest supporters, I swear."

You took a sip of your beer as you tried to hide your blushing face away from them. "There's nothing to support. We're just friends."

"Friends who had a PG-13 make-out session."

Crystal gasped and leaned over, holding onto my knee. "You and Nolan kissed? Uhm, when?"

"Last night. The party was still going on and they both wanted to go to bed, so Y/N offered Nolan a spot to share and one," Ryanne held up her index finger, "he agreed without a second of hesitation. two," another finger, " they had a huge heart to heart and three," she went to hold up a third finger when you brought her hand down.

"I kissed him, he kissed me back and then pushed me away and said, 'yeah I'd like to do this, but not now. sorry for rejecting you."

Ryanne shoved your hand off of hers and glared. "That's not what he said," she looked back at Crystal with hopeful eyes. "He said, that he wanted to kiss her and you know. But not in the middle of a party and he's been wanting to talk to her all day, but she's been avoiding him."

Crystal looked at you with proud eyes and squeezed your knee. "I feel like a proud parent right now! I've been waiting for you two to get together since you arrived in Philly. Now how was it, the kiss?"

You blushed again, taking another sip of your beer...only this one was a lot longer. "It was pretty great."

"What was that?" Ryanne smiled, cupping her ear. "Did I just hear the Y/N L/N admit that kissing her best friend was, in fact, great?"

"Oh shut up," you laughed, swatting at her. "You're lucky that you're pregnant or I'd dive-bomb you."

"Speak of the devil, here comes your man," Crystal smiled, nodding her head as the boys were coming back onto the ice for the third and final period.

The game had been a tough and brutal one. Yet again, they were playing the Pens and it was a pretty heated rivalry. Nolan had been checked into the boards more times than you could count...or want to see. It was weird, before this whole thing about your feelings with Nolan, you never had any problem seeing Nolan getting checked. You knew he was a tough guy and would probably get his redemption later on in the game. However, this game he'd spent most of his time chirping with anyone who would even dare to look in his direction, particularly number 59– Guentzel, his jersey read. And every time he got checked, you could feel yourself wince and then hope that he was okay.

"Come on, come on stand up! We have to cheer with everyone else!" Ryanne smiled as she and Crystal both tugged on your arms to get you standing with the crowd. Normally, the WAGs all sat up in a box, especially with a game as big as this one. But for some, strange and odd reason, the families and WAGs were sitting in a lower section, 5 to 6 rows up from the ice.

"Wooo! Go Flyers!" You cheered, clapping your hands together as the starters for the period stood on the ice. You watched as Nolan skated his last lap, looking at you with a smile before going off the ice to wait until his shift.

"Did you see that?" Crystal asked, looking at Ryanne. "I think he was checking Y/N out."

"Maybe he was checking out her chest. I didn't pick this sweater a size too small for nothing."

"I hate both of you." You grumbled, pulling the jacket tight over your chest and sitting down as the third period started.

You kept the jacket tight over your chest as you watched the game, keeping an eye out for your two roommates. When the play stopped and you saw Nolan come out for his shift, you sat up a little more on the edge of your seat, earning knowing smiles from Crystal and Ryanne.

"He's so feisty tonight. He hasn't stopped chirping 59 since their first shift." Ryanne said, perching up a little to see. "Like look at him, he looks pissed."

Just then, 59 skated closer to Nolan on the line and said something that pissed him off because the moment the ref dropped the puck, Nolan shoved the player. 59 dropped his gloves and skated at Nolan who followed suit. 

"Uh...I'd say he's a little more than just pissed." Crystal said, standing up as the crowd around us roared.

You couldn't get yourself to look away from the sight of the two boys fighting. Nolan had a fistfull of 59's jersey and was throwing punches at him every chance he got. 59 got a few licks in, that was evident the moment Nolan lost his grip on the jersey. 59 went to grab the back of Nolan's jersey and tried to pull it over his head and lock him in. Nolan, the sneaky player he is, snaked an arm out of the sleeve and continued to throw wild and blinded punches, still getting a few licks in until the two of them fell to the ice.

The crowd around us roared into cheers and screams as the people sitting on the glass beat against it with fervor. You stared with tunnel vision, laser-focused on Nolan as you watched him tear off half of his jersey and not bother to pick up the equipment he lost on the ice before stumbling back towards the locker room with a trainer fast behind him. You could feel the adrenaline from watching his fight mix with the worry your heart was beginning to feel, making a combination that left you feeling all sorts of lost.

Never in all of the years of watching Nolan play hockey, did you ever feel the need to know if he was okay after taking a hit or getting into a fight. Normally, you'd think nothing of it and wait until the end of the game for him to walk out with some makeshift bag of ice taped to a limb all while giving him a few chirps of your own. But now, you wanted nothing more than to run out of your seat and find your way through the corridor and into the training room, needing to know what happened.

"Y/N?" Ryanne waved a hand in front of your face and you shook your head, looking at her. "You zoned out, are you okay?"

"I just..." you looked back out towards the ice as the ice girls worked on scraping the blood off of the ice. "Whose blood is that?"

Crystal looked up from her phone and at you. "Nolan asked for you."

"What?"

She held up her phone to see a text from Wayne. "Wayne's in the training room getting P.T. and said Nolan mentioned you. Do you want to go down?"

"Nolan wants me down there?" 

"Sounds like it girl." Ryanne smiled, nudging you.

You stood up from your seat slowly and nodded your head. "Okay, okay yeah uh, I'll be right back."

You left your beer in your cupholder and made your way up the section steps. On your entire walk down to the corridor and trainers room, you couldn't help but replay the fight in your head. Did Nolan do as well as you thought he did? How many hits did 59 get in? Were they quality ones? With each thought, you tugged your jacket against you tighter and tighter. And just as you came to a stop in front of the training room door, you realized that you weren't pulling it against you because you felt exposed, but because it made you feel safe.

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, preparing yourself for what you were about to see. A few deep breaths later, you opened your eyes and pushed open the training room door. When you walked in, Nolan was hunched over on one of the tables, his jersey off and his head hanging down as he held a towel to his face. He looked up to see who was at the door and when he made eye contact with you, his eyebrows furrowed and then his mouth opened, only to close again as if he couldn't find the words to say.

You ran over to him and held onto his shoulders, looking over him to make sure his injuries weren't too severe. Your hands then wrapped around his back and you hugged him tightly, not caring if you got any blood on you. When you pulled away, you sighed, looking at the damage done to his face. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, just some stitches on my head and then something for my nose. Cliff says I should be able to go back out once he gets the blood out of my jersey."

You let out a sigh of relief and then the images of him fighting 59 took over. In a quick moment, you smacked his padded shoulder and glared at him. "What the hell, Nolan?"

“Um, OW? That actually kind of hurt, Y/N."

"What the hell do you think you're doing fighting that guy? Since when did you become a fighter?"

"Why do you care? You've been avoiding me all day. You never even told me the results for your doctors' appointment." He put more pressure on the towel as he looked away from you, only to look back at you with a gleam in his eyes. "Wait a second...are you worried about me?"

His truthful accusation set you back. Of course, you were worried about him, he's your best friend! "One, you don't know that I've been avoiding you all day, and two, you're my best friend. So excuse me if I don't want to see you get your face smashed in by some dude you’ve been exchanging petty middle school glares at all game."

A cocky smirk took over his face as she brought the towel off of his face, revealing the damage done. A nasty head laceration just by his left eye and a bloody nose. "You've never been worried before. You haven't even snuck in one of your infamous chirps yet."

You could feel yourself getting frustrated because he was right. But now didn't feel like the best time to admit your feelings for him. Or maybe it was. "I hate you, you know."

"For?"

"Being right," you sighed and walked closer, standing directly in front of him. "I have been avoiding you all day. because...well, it felt like you kind of rejected me after our...kiss last night."

You shrugged your shoulders and looked away from him. "And I guess I'm just really embarrassed about it and didn't want to face you this morning. But now I'm wearing a WAG jacket with your name on it, Ryanne and Crystal are in my mind saying how much they like us together, and we're not even dating! Not to mention, for the first time since I've ever watched you playing hockey, I found myself worried sick about you."

"You were?" He whispered, almost in shock himself as if he hadn't known my feelings since last night.

"Yeah," tugging the jacket against you tightly again, you looked at him. "Every check into the boards made my stomach twist into knots. And then when you started fighting with 59 I just...I don't know."

The silence between you two was overbearing and you couldn't help but wish that Cliff would come back with Nolan's blood-free jersey any second now.

"He said something," You looked up to see Nolan removing the towel from his face. "Guentzel. He said something...about you. We'd been chirping all night, stupid shit here and there. But then that last second right before the shift, he must've noticed the jacket or something...because he'd love to have his way with you and I just snapped."

He fought to protect you. It wasn't from the pure frustration of the game and rivalry, but the chirping had turned to you being the subject and Nolan wasn't having any of it. "Nolan?" He looked back up from his towel, the swelling starting to settle in. "Do you like me?"

He laughed and shook his head, bringing the towel back up as he looked at you. "Isn't it obvious, Y/N?"

"Obviously not, since your teammates and their wives all want us together and yet I've never known about your feelings for me. So please Nolan, tell me. Don't give me a subtle hint or a stupid, crooked smile...just, say the words."

"Y/N," he dropped the towel next to him and reached out, grabbing both of your hands. "I love you. I've loved you since we were like 10-years-old and I'm an idiot for taking so long to finally act on my feelings and do something about it, but I just–"

You leaned forward, carefully cradling his face in your hands before pressing your lips to his. A simple kiss that sent electric shocks to the tips of your toes. You pulled your lips from him, keeping your eyes closed and your vicinity close as you tried to catch the breath that the small kiss had knocked out of your lungs. Opening your eyes to see Nolan looking at you, you smiled and brushed your thumb along his right temple. "I love you too."

He smiled and cupped the right side of your face and on instinct, you leaned into his touch as if you'd known it all of your life and were finally letting your heart accept what you'd been missing out on for so long. Nolan wrapped an arm around your waist and held you tight before pressing another kiss to your mouth, this one more feverish and hungry than the one the night before.

"Alright Nolan, let's just stitch you up and– Oh!"

Embarrassed, you stepped away from Nolan and turned to see Cliff standing there with Nolan's jersey in his hand. "Sorry, Cliff." 

He just smiled and shook his head, placing Nolan's jersey down on another table. "I'm gonna go get the stitch kit, I'll be right back."

Nolan kept his grip tight around you as Cliff left the room again and he pulled you back, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. "So, does this mean if I ask...you'll go on a date with me?"

You brushed your fingers along his jawline, smiling down at him. "Hm, if I say yes, what do I get?"

"A night away from Travis, your favorite dessert and lots of kissing," he mumbled, pressing a kiss alongside your jaw.

"No surprise visits to any clinics?"

He raised his eyebrows and took in your smile. "Negative?"

"All three."

He pulled you into him and hugged you tight as he pressed another kiss to your temple. "Change of plans. If you say yes, we're kicking Travis out of the apartment and onto Hartsy's couch, ordering in your favorite food and then christening every surface we can find."

"So, that also includes a new roommate and endless amounts of cuddles?"

"Sure thing, spread eagle." He laughed, kissing you again before pulling back moments later. "Wait, new roommate?"

"You, dummy." You smiled down at him and then a thought dawned on you. "So uh, who's going to tell our parents the news?"

"More like who won the bet."

"There was a bet?"

"Oh Y/N, there's been a bet ever since the joint sex talk featuring my mom's fresh produce," he cringed, pulling you into him again. "At least we'll never have to sit through one of those again."

"Until they start asking us about grandkids."

You both burst into a fit of laughter as Cliff came back into the room, a stitch kit in his hand. You pressed a kiss to Nolan's temple as he squeezed your hand. "Are you heading back out there, Y/N?" Cliff asked, sitting down on a stool.

"Yeah, someone's got to make sure Ryanne doesn't go all crazy pregnant lady on some fans," You laughed, nodding at him. "You take care of our boy, Cliff."

"Always do, no matter what the punk says."

You laughed and walked towards the training room door, opening it and getting ready to walk out. "Has anyone told you how hot you look in that jacket?"

You turned to see Nolan, not even wincing as Cliff did the first stitch on this cut. "Eh, only this one guy. Long hair, pretty eyes, can't seem to grow a beard. Does he sound familiar?"

Nolan rolled his eyes and then a serious look fell over his smiling expression. "Will I see you out there?"

You winked at him and smiled. "Always, Nol. Always."

[sincerelytruly]

Reasons for Why I Believe Obiyuki could be the “Romance that Cuts through Fate” referenced in the Manga:

In college, I took two amazing courses--scratch that I took one amazing course and one semi-disappointing sub-par course--Fairytales and Graphic Narratives, respectively. And until right this very minute, I believed them to be an utterly, though fascinating, waste of my time and tuition though they made me smile. Okay, it was college so they didn’t always make me smile because finals are the worst but I digress the point I am trying to make is this: 

I HAVE AN EPIPHANY CONCERNING MY BELOVED SHIP OBIYUKI DUE TO MY TEACHINGS!!   

So, first and foremost the birth of my epiphany came from thinking back to my class on Fairytales when we studied Snow White! (Graphic Narratives didn’t really teach me much other than how to think more critically about...Graphic Narratives, so I guess it really doesn’t deserve any cred for this post TBH, lol.)

But like I said we studied Snow White. 

Not this one:

Or whatever this one was supposed to be (sorry not sorry):

But, the original one. There are two versions (maybe there are more but I forgot them if there are) of the Grimm’s version of Snow White. In the very most original version, everything pretty much happens as we all remember it minus the singing: Snow White makes Queen step-trash jealous by her beauty, Queen step-trash tries to have her killed, due to her amazing beauty Hunstman is a wuss and lets her live because he’s weak to a beautiful damsel, Snow White plays Goldilocks and breaks into a dwarven settlement, the dwarves also wuss out and take pity on her because she is pretty and can cook/clean for them, then step-trash gets angry realizing she is, in fact, alive and goes out to kill her herself. Now, this is where everything diverges from what we know. In the original version step-trash has to try several times to kill her. Once with a bodice/corset torture device that basically suffocates her until the dwarves get home and cut her out of it, twice with an evil hair comb that kills her until the dwarves pull it out of her hair, and then thrice with the age-old apple trick. The poisoned magic apple gets lodged in her throat and she becomes a stone statue for all intents and purposes, so what do the dwarves do? What any logical group of men would do with a beautiful woman who isn’t decaying but still dead in their eyes, lock her in a gorgeous crystal casket so that they can still gaze upon her beauty on the daily! From here on there are two different endings to the Snow White saga. The very, very, first one published states that the Prince comes along says, “ooooooooh pretty, let me take her home with me and put her on display” and sits around gazing at her all the time until someone in the castle gets pissed off and hits Snow White’s corpse which dislodges the apple finally and wakes her up. What an awkward way to wake up yeah? And then the poor girl gets married to the Prince--ta-da! The second version makes it a lot better ending for poor Snow White. Someone trips while hauling the casket to the palace and dislodges the apple and then the Prince sweeps Snow White off her feet and yay happy ending they get married and now the Prince doesn’t seem as creepy just staring at a dead person all day long pissing off his staff. 

(Whooo that was a lot of background info, sorry, and also I know that I could also do a huge comparison post on the tales of Snow White versus our Shirayuki tale, but that is for another day!!!)

Depending on what you want to go with there are so many ways you can analyze the story of Snow White--all of them, old, less old, new, even our beloved Shirayuki’s story--but one of the things that stick out in my mind is how in every single version of Snow White she is always a trophy of some sort. The Prince is always going to get his trophy wife in the end. Even in Shirayuki’s case, if she does end up with Zen (which I’ll die if she does) she will be nothing but a trophy wife. Even though Zen is precious and certainly not a bad guy by any means, he is a  Prince, therefore their relationship will not be the same as normal couples have. She won’t be allowed to be an Herbalist and tend to the sick who may infect her and kill her before she can provide an heir. And poor Zen will still be stuck behind a pile of paperwork and responsibility to his Kingdom that he dearly loves.  

But, hey who knows, maybe Sorata will go against the entire universe she has built in her storytelling and let Shirayuki be wild and free and a Prince’s wife...

I think this is where “A Romance that Cuts through Fate” comes in to play. Hopefully, if you’ve made it this far in my post (bless you if you have) you’re thinking what I’m thinking. Or maybe you’re thinking I’m a lunatic.

ANYWHO, IF EVERY SINGLE SNOW WHITE ENDS UP WITH THE PRINCE THEN REALLY HOW IS ZENYUKI A ROMANCE THAT CUTS THROUGH FATE?

It's not. It absolutely is not a story of a romance that cuts through fate. In fact, there are far too many stories out there where a beautiful, nice, happy, girl gets with a Prince way beyond her social status for this to be something un-fateful. Or unheard of or whatever. Every fairytale and most romantic comedies out in the world follow the same old rhyme. 

Which is why I am proposing that Obiyuki is the endgame for real. 

***WARNING IF YOU’RE NOT CAUGHT UP WITH THE MANGA AND DON’T WANT SPOILED THEN YOU PROBS DON’T WANT TO READ ANY FURTHER!!!***

I feel as though since the moment Obi and Shirayuki were separated by the Bergat house situation, Shirayuki has been more aware of what Obi means to her. 

Look at her reaction and even Obi says later on:

That she seemed to be concerned even for him. Now don’t get me wrong I am completely aware that Shirayuki has been plenty concerned for Obi in a platonic sort of way! I’m not a completely foolish fangirl here. 

But then that happens. That is something new with Shirayuki. Never is she shown to react that way about what anyone says. Sure she blushes over her lovey-dovey stuff with Zen all the time, but that is something else. 

And then that is too. She sees Obi’s reaction--possibly the first time she’s seen him this way (or at least I can’t remember another time) and there’s a look on her face that says, was he being serious maybe? YES SHIRAYUKI HE WAS DAMMIT IN HIS PLAYFUL STUPID BOY WAY YES. 

And then this happens--look at that face--I don’t need to say a damn thing on that one. I mean I know she doesn’t love-love him yet (or maybe she does but doesn’t know it) but this is definitely progress, right?

And then the boys get in a tie showing off their masculinity--which I feel really does foreshadow their inevitable head-to-head. I mean ever since the festival with the play of the Knight fighting the Prince for the Princess, I’ve felt that way, but then there is their slight competition for her attention all the time and this arm wrestling and even the fight they had when Obi wanted to be her bodyguard! 

These faces, well, I feel as though she is kind of realizing Obi’s worth. I don’t know how else to put it. She is obviously affected by Obi’s marriage meeting and later on when Obi is saying how he is rejecting people even though he knows he attracts people, her face is so loving! Of course that may just be because her friends are there and she is about to pledge her loyalty to everyone or whatever, but I’d like to think it still has a bit to do with what Obi is saying as his statement that he was with her during the dinner party, therefore not flirting with other girls, is in the same panel as the face she is making. Hopefully, that makes sense. 

This was a big moment because again I feel as though this is foreshadowing, why else would the author do this?

Then I noticed that Shirayuki starts noticing Obi! Above she notices how his eyes have rounded recently, which to my understanding is an idea that a person is happier. (Idk my Dad has a book on Oriental health practices and whatnot and it talks about eye shape in it and basically how its a window to the state of your being/soul/chi, etc. so this is why I believe this I may be completely off base but the context seems to suggest I’m right!) However, on a side note on Obi’s part I think he is going through the motions of accepting that his fate when it comes to Shirayuki when he says, “I’m seeing more clearly.” 

This looks like some flirtation to me on Shirayuki’s part, but also I find it an interesting conversation especially since in the next chapter (below panels) she talks about how she needs to be able to speak about how she wants to live in the future. And also, I feel as though the author loves giving us these panels where they’re reaching for each other but not quite willing or able to touch one another yet, its sweet torture isn’t it?

The panels above show again how she has finally taken notice of Obi and thanked him for all he has done for her. I know it’s not a declaration of love, and she probably plans on talking to Izana about living her future with Zen, but I think this is a step in the right direction because in what world is this conversation with Izana going to go well? I mean, Izana, though I believe he likes Shirayuki, is not going to change the rules for her as it comes to the Royal family. So, I think we may soon see some development in Shirayuki’s relationships with both Zen and Obi. I tend to think that she has really put some thought into how she wants to live her life now, and I also think that she is strong enough of a person now to reject anything other than what she deserves. 

I also find it interesting how Obi keeps his cool when Shirayuki compliments him on his looks and then awkwardly says:

What does interesting mean, Obi?! 

But anyway, that brings us up to date with the manga and my reasons for believing that the “Romance that Cuts through Fate” applies to Obiyuki NOT Zenyuki. I hope I was able to coherently share my thoughts and feelings on this and not completely bore whoever may have been strong enough to make it to the end of my rambles. 

[maliaroux]

HELLO, ALL YOU BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE! first of all I just wanna say I am so fucking stoked for Starlit, and to get to write with you all! Anywho back to the task at hand, under the cut is a little bit about my hot garbage child Malia Roux, she’s an old muse but a goodie and I can’t wait to develop her more with you all! If you want to plot just like this or hmu via direct message and I will eagerly respond, i’ll be sure to include any trigger warnings below! Oh also, I am Mon, love me.

TW: domestic abuse, statutory rape, abandonment, prostitution, drug abuse, alcoholism, car accident, implied murder, death. 

AESTHETICS: 

lipstick-stained menthol cigarettes, empty spray cans, fake smiles, and humorless laughs, glassy dull eyes, dirty knees and whispered secrets, acrylic paint and empty canvases, unwavering loyalty and bruised knuckles, paint-speckled backpack full of clothes, tight dresses and high heels, hushed compliments and chipped nail polish, night terrors, and paranoia.

( her actual aesthetic board on pintrest here !!! )

BACKGROUND:

malia’s always been a lost soul. she grew up in phoenix, arizona, living in a tiny little suburban community, raised in one of the copycat cookie cutter homes just the same as the rest of the kids she went to high school with. when she was about five-years-old her dad walked out on her mom ( an aggressive & unloving woman who preferred her wine bottles to sippy cups ), leaving malia alone with her and her older sister ( who was eight years older than her ).

after her father left her mother got worse, now full of resentment and alcohol, she took everything out on malia. malia was too young to understand why, it wasn’t until years later she figured out the truth, that the reason her father had walked out on her mother was that he had found out that Malia, his pride, and joy, wasn’t even his daughter, but that’s neither here nor there.

as her mother’s rage grew, the more malia got in trouble, the more malia was ignored. by age ten the girl felt like a ghost in her own home, living in the shadow of her perfect, beautiful, older sister alice. no matter what malia did, what sport she joined, what trophy she won, what prize she brought back home to her mother, she still treated her like an invader, like a pest she had to put up with until the girl was finally 18 and she could kick her out.

eventually, malia stopped trying, stopped caring, shut off every emotion, every feeling she ever had towards her mother and turned it all into an apathetic gaze. she hated her mother, she hated her sister, and rather than try to be perfect, rather than rebel, she put herself into the role her mother wanted. she was a guest.

by the time malia was fourteen she was hardly home, spending most of her time at friends’ places, out partying, hanging out with boys way too old for her, doing things with them that were meant for people way too old for her. she didn’t care anymore. she played her role as the ghost in her own home, but she was tired of feeling sad... of feeling numb, and at least they helped her feel.

she figured she’d go through the rest of her life filling the void until she could finally leave… that is until her mom remarried. her step-father was an interesting man, loud and charismatic. boastful, charming, demanding. he took malia and her mother in. he was a man who put her mother in her place for being cruel, for being uncaring… and that was something malia liked… something malia exploited.

it truly didn’t take long for malia to tempt her step-father into sleeping with her, he wasn’t a good man after all… and rather than hide their dirty secret, malia rubbed it in her mother’s face. let her call her a whore. let her call her disgusting. she didn’t care because at least it got her mother noticing her finally.

malia didn’t really care for her step-father, she never really cared about anyone romantically, they were a means to an end, just like he was. but he didn’t like that… he didn’t like malia being with other boys, other girls, and after a while things began to get violent. he was controlling, and abusive, and malia wasn’t the type of girl to put up with it, even with all the traumatic reminders she had to. and her mother? didn’t care to help… even told her she deserved it.

so rather than stay in her cookie cutter home, with her resentful mother and her abusive, disgusting step-father, she decided to leave. she had packed her bags and stolen the keys to her step-fathers range rover, planning to sneak off in the dead of the night without a trace. but of course, things didn’t go as planned.

she had managed to get in the car when her step-father caught her, she can’t completely recall what happened, but she remembered locking the door, she can remember putting the car into reverse, swinging out into the road as he chased after it, and the next thing she remembered was a loud crash, and the sound of the engine revving and the spider web cracks forming on the bloodied windshield as she sped off.

that was two years ago, two years and she still hasn’t even attempted to return home, to call, to figure out if her step-father was okay or not… she’s been living in starlit semi-happily, spending her nights partying and sleeping around just like she had back in arizona, making easy cash by selling herself and selling her art.

she’s the usual culprit for all the graffiti around starlit, an avid fan of street art and a struggling artist, she’s constantly walking around in paint covered clothes with spray cans in tote.

TLDR: so basically malia is a spray can toting sarcastic little smart ass who is an insanely good friend and self-deprecating human being. she sleeps around for fun and for money, spends her nights drunk or high, works off nights at the fremont street experience doing street art. while loyal she can still be selfish, something she doesn’t really mean to be.

WANTED CONNECTIONS:

THE CONFIDANT: the sole person malia trusts. though trust is used lightly. she trusts them enough to talk freely, to share how she feels more than she does with anyone else, the one person she finds herself actively searching for, her only true friend... she’s loyal to them above all else, and she tries not to spoil it, though she figures knowing her it’ll get fucked up in the end.

THE EX: There was a period of time where Malia attempted to love another. though she couldn’t find herself falling into place like they wanted, they were perfect, better than she could’ve asked for, and yet she still found her eyes wandering and after a few mishaps, they found out she was sleeping around, they don’t speak much now but when they do it’s never good. 

THE FREQUENT FLYER: Malia tries to keep work from following her home, but after a drunken desperate night for this starlit resident and her, she found herself making an easy twenty bucks for practically nothing, and they’re not bothersome, most of the time the poor soul just wants someone to listen to them talk. 

that’s really all I can think of in detail but any sort of plot connection can work with malia, friendships or enemies, people who hate her because she slept with their boyfriend or girlfriend, people she fucked over because they liked her and thought they had something and she just ghosted, whatever your heart wants I am honestly down for.

[sugarsnap-caely]

Ego Origins: The Mute

I am not entirely sure on how to start this. I suppose most would begin with their birthplace, and while I guess it would be fairly normal, there’s something that’s a tad off. You see, I was not exactly born in this...era.

Let me explain.

I was born in Reading, Britain and was born to two parents which became one. I believe my mother became ill once...she never recovered. I believe I was merely four. I can’t be certain, my memory is a bit fuzzy.

Anywho, where the confusion comes in -- and I am not talking malarky here -- is that I’m from the 1920’s. You see, I was born in 1900.

I grew up in a home that was pretty regular, for me at least. I preferred going out though. As a young troublemaker, I loved going about town to see all sorts of people. I was very interested in them.

I always loved dancing for them, making them smile. I was a regular Oliver Twist I was, and I earned a surprising amount of clams sometimes too. I remember how I always ran off to the soda shop and bought as much candy as I could with it afterwards.

For a time after my mother passed, making other people smile was about the only thing that could put a spring in my step.

I did well in school…I made friends despite the fact I didn’t really talk. They always stood up for me when I was getting razzed. I wish I could see them again…

I remember how I loved stopping to see pictures when I got older too. I always loved seeing the cartoons. They were my favorite and made me laugh a lot. And it wasn’t just the cartoons that I loved, I also loved the pictures. I was especially fond of comedy. Sometimes it was the only thing keeping people happy during those times. The war I mean. I was only thirteen when it began...

When my dad had to go and fight I was sent to my aunt’s place in London. My older cousin and uncle were off in the war too. I…I thought it would be safer.

I remember seeing the Zeppelins…we would hide in the basement. Everything wa shaking…and it was so loud. I had never been so scared in my life…

But…I…I heard it was much worse…later…in the second war…

And…and when my uncle got back…he said my-my cousin died…

When my dad got home he was never quite the same…

I wondered why my uncle’s foot was gone. I didn't pay it too much mind, I was just happy everything was over. Then I saw the picture…there…there were…

Oh god…there were holes…i-i-in his feet!

S…sorry…where was I…

My…my favorite comedy films had to be from Charlie. Golly he was funny! He was a darb actor! I honestly wanted to be one too. So I practiced, I observed movies and I found a mentor once.

After that I moved to London to try and become an actor. I landed a few minor background roles and I didn’t really care too much that I never got a major part. I was just happy that I was in anything at all.

It was sad though, as I got older we started making less films. Hollywood over in America was making all the films and there were times I wanted to move over there just like Charlie did. I never got the chance.

When I wasn't acting I was working at the local bar or library. It was getting harder to keep earning money sometimes. Either way, I liked both of my jobs. I met lots of swell chaps!

Well, I've certainly talked an earful about my past. I bet you're still thinkin’ how I ended up here in the 21st century.

Ya see, I’d say it all started one day at work. I was at the bar one evening, serving giggle water as usual. It was all going fine until this one fella—he was mighty drunk—came up and tried to steal some of the alcohol. I told him to buzz off and he did not take it very well. He landed a few hits. Golly did it hurt but I was alright. Thankfully someone else managed to kick him out, but I had lost my pocket watch in the scuffle.

I’m willing to bet he stole it. Good thing I found another one…

Jameson Jackson finished wiping down the counter of the bar. He put his hands on his hips as he admired his handiwork. He quickly double checked everything, making sure everything was where it was supposed to be before heading to the door. He used the key to lock up the tavern and stuffed back in his pocket.

It was a pleasant, sort of chilly evening and he shivered. As he walked down the street towards home he took note of his surroundings. Despite passing them many, many times it always made him smile.

He passed under the branches of a tree and touched one of the tiny leaves. Summer was just around the corner and he couldn’t wait to see what the season held this year. Maybe he could go out and dance again. It would be a good way to make a little extra money, and he really needed to get a new pocket watch.

He turned a corner and saw the park across the street. He smiled as the moon reflected against the grass. Wait. He stopped walking and looked across the street again. Sure enough, he saw something shining on the ground.

Curious, he crossed over to the twinkling object. He bent down, kneeling before a pocket watch.

The watch was a gold color and had tiny, swirl-like engravings. He did not notice, but it appeared to be smoking and there were small, dying flames burning in the grass.

He smiled. It looked like today was his lucky day.

He reached out his hand to pick up the object. The second he had the watch in his grasp his vision went black.

His body ached. He didn’t know where he was. For a moment it had felt like he was falling, something sharp scraping his skin, before the wind was knocked out of him.

He did his best to open his eyes but they were cloudy. He was surrounded by blurry, tall shapes.

He wasn’t even fully aware of his movement, only that something told him he should get up.

Home. He had to go home.

He had the vague feeling of standing up and he began to walk.

He saw light and walked towards it.

His vision was going dark. His legs did not want to work. His world went black once more.

“Dr. Schneeplestein to the ER please.”

Henrik jogged to his destination. He had been working a late shift lately because someone had gotten sick. He did not mind though, it gave him more of a chance to help other people. Speaking of which, this was one of those times.

He rounded the corner to the Emergency Room and saw a stretcher.

“Vhat does it look like?” he asked his co-workers.

“Multiple lacerations on his arms and torso, and a particularly nasty one on his back. There also appear to be multiple burns. It’s hard to tell but it appears his throat may have been damaged. He is un-conscience and losing blood. The ambulance team managed to patch up the smaller wounds but he still needs treatment.”

Henrik nodded, following the stretcher into the ER. He donned his mask and gloves as they laid the man on the table.

He stopped as he saw their face. ‘Oh dear, vee have anozer one…’ He thought. He pushed it to the side as he began to work; it was something they could worry about later.

Henrik opened the door, leading Jack, Marvin, Chase, and Jackie inside. ��He’s in here.”

“I still can’t believe you managed to get us in here. Didn’t you say he was a John Doe?” Chase said as he sat in a chair.

“I cannot believe it eizer, but I’m very lucky I managed to pull a few strings. Also yes, we cannot identify him yet. I said I vould ask him vhen he voke up, but he’s been out for a vhile.”

“I just hope I don’t scare him when he wakes up. I know you guys have your disguises but I’m stuck like this.” Jack said, sitting in the corner.

Jackie sat down next to him, “Don’t you worry. Everything’s gonna be fine, you’ll see.”

“Yep,” Marvin added, “we’ll be sure to give him a good explanation.”

Jack raised an eyebrow, “Dude, we still don’t know why this has happened.”

Marvin sat down as well, “Yeah…Well, we can at least help him calm down.”

Henrik closed the door, “Agreed. All vee need is for everyone to stay calm.”

James stirred, causing the others to snap to attention as he sat up in the bed. He blinked his eyes, trying to get his bearings. Where was he? What happened? As his vision came to he saw all the people around him and jumped.

“Oh good, you're avake. How are you feeling?” Henrik asked.

James was about to answer but there was a strange beeping noise next to him, and he turned, curious. Something was stuck in his arm and he panicked.

“No no, it's ok. It's alright. You are in a hospital.” Henrik assured him.

Once James had calmed down a moment, he turned to them. “W-where am I? What…what happened?”

Everyone in the room gaped at the speech bubble above his head.

“Well, that's different.” Marvin stated, breaking the silence.

James tilted his head, confused, before looking up himself. He had no idea how that had gotten there or where it had come from. Who were these people?

“Now, I know you have questions so to answer zee first one, you are in Brighton, England in a hospital.”

James nodded, he had heard of that town before. Wait, why was he here in the first place? What happened?

“To answer your second question,” Henrik continued, sitting in the chair next to James, “according to zee ambulance team, zee person who found you said you had come stumbling out of zee forest vis various vounds on your body and no shirt on before collapsing on zee ozer side of zee street.

“Sankfully, zey called an ambulance and zey rushed you here. Zey managed to patch up some of zee smaller cuts and burns but zee ozer doctahs and I had to do zee rest. You had no ID on you. Nosing but zat pocket vatch and your pants.” He motioned to the side table where the watch lay.

James looked at the watch. The last thing he remembered was picking it up and now he was here. He looked back at Henrik, still confused, “How did I get in the woods?”

“Vell, of zat vee are not sure but a team trying to figure out vhat happened came back and told us zat you seemed to have fallen from a tree and zat is vhy you have some of zee cuts. To me zough, it does not seem right.”

Now that James thought about it he had fallen. He looked down at the bandages on his body. He was a wreck but at least he was safe. Something still bothered him and he looked at the strange thing in his arm and the people in the room. “I still don’t understand. Who are you? What is this thing? What’s going on?”

Henrik scooted a bit closer, clearing his throat, “Yes, I believe introductions are in order. My name is Henrik Von Schneeplestein. Zat,” he pointed at the thing, “is an IV. It helps heal you.”

James nodded, he still wasn’t sure what that was but he did not want to be rude and interrupt.

Chase waved on the other side of him, “Hey...I’m Chase Brody. Nice to meet you.” Chase held out his fist and James stared at it. Reluctantly, he took the fist in the palm of his hand and shook it.

Marvin burst out laughing and Jackie elbowed his leg.

“Right, sorry, sorry. I’m Marvin Hayes. AKA Marvin the Magnificent!”

Jackie waved his hand in a saluting gesture, “I’m Jackie Wayne.”

James gave a timid smile as he waved back. Foolish, that’s what he looked like. Foolish.

With a sigh Jack finally decided to stand up from his corner. This whole ordeal had to come up eventually. “Hello there, umm…” He cut himself short as he saw the exclamation point above James’s head. He ran his hands through his hair. God, he still wasn't used to any of this. And he doubted he ever would be.

He cleared his throat before continuing, “Now, I know this doesn't make any sense. Trust me, I know. But you are not crazy. We don't know much but we can try to explain anyways.

To continue on names, my name is Sean McLoughlin. Most people call me Jack though.” He rubbed the back of his head as he sat down. “If you have any questions just…just ask.”

Question mark after question mark appeared above James’s head. He had no idea how to process any of this. They had answered his questions but rather than answer them it only brought up more.

There was a sudden beeping noise coming from Chase’s pocket and James jumped, his eyes snapping towards the sound. Chase pulled out a strange rectangular object that glowed. He pointed at it, an exclamation point and a question mark popping above his head.

Chase raised an eyebrow, “What’s wrong? It's just my phone.”

That was not a phone. He shook his head before looking around the room again. His ears picked up on the constant beep next to him and he gestured wildly at it, “What is this thing?”

There was a pause, and the others looked at each other. They were all concerned as they started to put the pieces together.

Henrik leaned forward in his chair, “Zat is a heart monitor. I don't believe vee got to hear your name. Truthfully, no one knows who you are. You had no ID. If you can, vould you mind filling us in?”

Biting his lip, James sighed, “My…my name is Jameson Jackson. I am from Reading. I was born on the 31st of October, 1900.”

For the second time that night they were all in shock. Tonight was far more surprising than they had expected it to be. And they had seen or done some odd and impossible things.

“N…nineteen hundred?” Henrik finally began.

James nodded his head slowly. He had a feeling he had said the wrong thing and he slouched.

“Dude…” Chase gave a half chuckle, “It’s 2017.”

What? He…how…but he had. The beeping next to James quickened alongside his breathing. He couldn't understand. He jumped at the feeling of a hand on his arm, wincing at the pain.

Chase drew his hand back, “Sorry! I’m sorry if we’re scaring you, but…I mean…it's the truth.”

James looked around the room, watching everyone give some form of agreement. He put his head in his hands. He needed time to think all of this through. Golly, what was he gonna do? How was he going to get back home? Could he even get back in the first place? He was overwhelmed.

Jack felt an impulse to comfort James and walked over to the bed. At first he wanted to give him a hug but he saw the bandages on his body and decided against it. Giving a sigh, he gave his free right hand a squeeze. “It's alright. We’ll figure things out. You are not alone.”

James lifted his hands away from his face, sniffling as he wiped the tears from his eyes. He looked up at Jack and felt a warmth push some of the confusion away.

“There’s more we will have to tell you, but I can see you have enough to deal with already. Besides, it can wait.” He gave James’s hand one more squeeze. “Come on guys,” Jack said, tilting his head to the door, “we should let him rest.”

The others got up, saying goodbye as they walked to the door.

“You guys go on home,” Henrik said, “I have to finish my shift. Plus, someone should stay here to keep him company.”

“Alright,” Jack said, “We’ll see you later Henrik.” With that they left the room.

Henrik stood up from the chair, “I have to go take care of some sings, but Jack is right: you need rest. I vill be back to check on you later but if you need anysing press zat button, alright?”

James looked where he indicated and nodded.

“Good.” Henrik walked over to the door and opened it, “Sleep vell Jameson, everysing vill be alright.”

James lied down, questions continuing to float in his mind, yet he felt that warmth return as he closed his eyes: everything would be alright.

Hey there everyone, I bring you the next installment of the Ego Origins stories. Well...kind of. You see, I am writing this out of order. The reason? Well...we’ll get to that later... ;) Also I am testing a new format. As I have observed, on mobile the horizontal lines I use to chage scenes does not show up. So, to make it easier for those on mobile I am bolding each sentence/word that begins with every new scene change, as well as bolding my end and/or beginning notes. As always, let me know what you think and I hope you enjoyed the story!

1)The Doctor

2)The Magician

3)

4)

[dark-unimaginably-stupid-kids]

December

Another drabble. This one is....more cathartic? So lets start with a big ol’ Authors Note:

So it’s come to my attention that the way I met my ex was very /Keith/ like and as such, I’ve come to notice a few more parallels SO....

The following is pretty much how it happened. Well, sans the express mentions of Keith sleeping with Regris and Lance sleeping with Jenny. But ya know. I had to stop eventually. I also didn’t get to fit in the rune readings or the making out in the car and bs-ed a couple things to make them more Lance and Keith--

And ya know, Lance would just be a better man. Sorry not sorry.

If you’re reading this Bright Eyes: why haven’t you deleted me yet? Like you have absolutely no business still following my writing. I’d block you if I wasn’t just morbidly amused by how long you must have to scroll to get through my gay boys, kthnx.

Also, Idk, I guess Keith handled his liquor better than I did.

@meli-reads-all Look I DID IT. We can do fighting for spots later, and maybe I’ll make some ridiculous little short about the blue eyed one too cause /fuck/ my ridiculous Keith-like meet cutes/background stories.

Anywho.

Klance. College AU I guess.

Drinking and smoking (Keith is an alcoholic because I am an alcoholic. -finger guns-)

Keith gets dragged out of his house under the promise of vodka. Ends up opening the door to a boy he really should have been nicer to because wow is Lance everything he ever wanted.

3.9k words

----

The first red flag of the night should have been Jenny’s pushiness. Keith had only hung out with her one time since they’d “become friends” in middle school and now they were taking two classes a semester at the local Uni (if any) and occasionally waved at each other in the hallways.

Hell, Keith hadn’t even done that in months given the shit time he’d had at school and his absolute lack of a desire to pursue any kind of degree.

He’d taken the fall semester off and was still mentally wording the letter to Shiro in his head about how he was going to drop out when Jenny had blown up his phone.

“You’re just being a hermit aren’t you!? Get dressed! I’m coming over!”

Keith eyed the texts and rolled his eyes. He glanced down at himself in his lose Spiderman top and his boxers and shrugged. He was plenty dressed.

“I’m bringing a friend!”

God damn it.

To hang out with an annoying girl he’d technically known for years? Pj top and boxers were fine.

To hang out with said girl and a total stranger?

Fuck.

Okay.

Pants then.

She lived nearby, so he dragged himself out of bed, paused his binge watch of the day (season 8 of Criminal Minds. It had been a while since he’d gone to catch up. They already had ten seasons on Netflix. It was gonna be a nice weekend if Jenny would just leave him alone.)

But then she was there.

Shaybon or whatever her stupid name was.

Keith’s roommate Pidge was out for the day, but she’d left the living room in a bit of a state so while Jenny made herself at home and introduced her friend, Keith tidied up.

Not that he cared about a strangers opinion of his home, but because he didn’t like strangers and it was better to focus on other things while people introduced themselves. The strangers name was Regris. Tall, dark, acceptable.

He watched Keith clean and smirked a lot. Like it amused him.

Keith didn’t really care. He hadn’t planned to entertain, he hadn’t wanted to. Jenny was being a fucking pain springing this on him.

Of course, she was vaguely well meaning? During that one outing they’d been on which was only about a month ago, Jenny had told Keith all about how she’d moved in with her boyfriend only for him to dump her and disappear to go fuck his ex on the same night. Keith had offered her some solidarity in that he was also recently heartbroken.

Though, a fuck buddy who was more buddy than fuck who suddenly decided to drop you for no apparent reason, was slightly lower priority than an actual live in boyfriend; it still hurt and Keith could still vaguely sympathize.

Hell, there was a reason he was binge watching Criminal Minds and wanted to be alone.

He missed Rolo, but what was he going to do? First Rolo didn’t want to fuck anymore, then he didn’t want to be friends, go figure, shit happens.

He’d been fun. And he’d helped Keith get out of his shell for a time. And he’d been comfortable and they always seemed to be on the same page. But you know.

Shit.

Keith had started developing feelings, as it happens when you actually enjoy someone’s presence who you’re also attracted to and have decent chemistry. He’d told Rolo, but he’d tried to explain the friendship mattered more. Keith loved the feeling of being alive far more than he even remotely liked Rolo in that way. And that was what Rolo gave him just by cracking a joke and making a room full of people keel over in laughter.

Rooms full of people.

Pleasant, fun things.

No one whispering no one judging.

Everyone was weird and at their own pace.

Keith missed it all so terribly.

But now all he has was fucking Jenny.

He went into his fridge, took out two beers and sat down at the kitchen table when he’d finished cleaning. Regris eyed the beer as if one was for him but Keith simply rolled his eyes. He opened the first one and downed it, then promptly opened the second one and turned to Jenny.

“So. What are we supposed to do now? Did you come here with a plan or are you two just going to watch Criminal Minds with me?”

It was Jenny’s turn to roll her eyes and she did so with a flourish to her friend. Regris in turn glanced at his phone and shrugged, “Well my friend is having a get together. Not far.”

Keith nodded, took a gulp of his beer, “Great, you two have fun.”

“Oh come on Keith! Don’t be that way!”

Keith stared at Jenny, took another swig, and waited.

Jenny eyed the bottle and finally came up with something that actually interested Keith. She knew this because Keith had made very clear what he’d been doing to cope since the loss of his university family. He was making it very clear now, bottle in hand.

And rather than attempt to dissuade him, she enabled him, “Regris, Thace has alcohol right?”

Keith’s eyebrow arched but he said nothing. Regris laughed, “Uh, yeah? Of course?”

“Probably more beer right?” Keith grumbled, he was almost done with the second bottle now and it was pretty gross. He didn’t like beer, but he’d finished the sweeter drinks earlier and these were left overs from when he used to have friends over, people who wanted to hang out with him and Rolo anyway.

“Well. There will be beer, yeah. But Thace is more of whiskey drinker.”

Keith thought about it. Whiskey had specific side effects in him. Best to avoid around generally attractive men. He was about to open his mouth to say he’d still prefer to pass when Jenny shot up, “Vodka! Tell him there will be vodka!”

Ah yes, because Keith had been drinking when he’d told her the story and she remembered what he’d ordered.

Regris seemed a bit surprised but shrugged it off, “Yeah? Of course he has vodka.”

Keith sighed and turned his attention from Jenny to Regris, “And I’ll be allowed to drink, this vodka, right?”

He scoffed, “Once you’re in the house all the booze is fair game. Thace is cool that way.”

Keith gave himself another moment to assess, considered the fact he’d finished his last bottle and was actually quietly craving the stuff. He also considered how Jenny would never let him hear the end of it if he said no.

“…Alright. But only for the vodka.”

Jenny practically bounced out of her seat and Regris shrugged, “Cool, I’m gonna take a smoke and we’ll head out then.”

Keith watched Regris step onto the porch, cigarette and lighter in hand, and turned back to Jenny, “This your rebound or something?”

The girl looked surprised and waved her hand, “Oh no. Reg and I have been friends for years. But he did say his friend Lo was gonna be there tonight and he might be juuuust my type.”

Keith stared at her for a long moment, sure to be as openly judgmental as possible, but she took it with a proud smile, “Don’t be jealous, maybe we’ll find you a distraction too!”

“Don’t count on it.”

---

Keith was in the middle of pouring his second mixed drink when someone knocked. Jenny was in the backyard, floating around and making friends. Regris was playing pool with Thace—who was a decent enough guy even if he did keep his absolutely beautiful darling huskie locked in the kitchen.

Honestly, Keith preferred the company of the dog.

He just didn’t have it in him to socialize with these people anymore. He wanted to drink and go home and not be in his mind by he time he went to sleep.

He finished a cherry liquor before he realized someone was knocking and sadly put his cup down. He turned and popped his head outside. Thace was sitting, waiting for his turn and chatting with two girls.

“Thace, someone’s here,” Keith said bluntly.

Thace didn’t even look up, “Cool, that’s probably him now,” He said to the girls, then he spoke louder for Keith, “Go open it.”

Keith stood there, “…It’s not my house.”

“So? It’s my friend, go open it?”

Keith could hear Jenny perk up from behind the pool table, “Is it Lo?”

Regris replied to her, clarifying that Lo was still very much on the other side of town.

“Then who is it?” Jenny pressed.

Thace chuckled, “We’ll know once Keith gets the door. Go on.”

Keith still didn’t move, “…It’s not my house. Who goes around strangers houses and opens doors to total—what?!”

“Just get it, it’s probably—” Thace was speaking to the nameless girls again and Jenny chose just then to laugh loudly at Keith’s antics.

With a disgruntled puff Keith turned back into the house, picked up his discarded vodka-cherry-who-remembers-what-else and sipped at it while he made his way to the door just as the questionable someone knocked again.

Keith held the cup with his teeth and fought with the door locks for a second before, by some miracle, finally managing to turn them the right way and pulling the door loose.

“Hey—” Started the stranger.

Keith took the cup out of his mouth and gave the guy at the door a once over, cup in hand and general annoyance rumbling into his generally poor attitude, he looked the stranger dead in his decidedly pretty blue eyes and with his own half lidded in boredom said, “And who the fuck are you supposed to be?”

It was almost comical, if Keith had been paying attention to the social cues. Because the man’s eyes widened and his jaw slackened but there was still the barest hint of an amused smile on his face.

“U-Uh… Leandro?”

“Leo?”

“Lee- Leandro—”

“Alejandro?”

“N-No, my name is—”

“I don’t care.”

Keith turned around and walked straight back the way he’d come, cup back to his lips, “Everyone’s outside I guess.” He said mostly to no one, maybe somewhat to the new guy.

When he made it to the sliding glass door again he announced to the group of strangers who were eagerly awaiting the arrival of their friend, “Some.. Alex or whatever is here.”

“It’s—”

Keith heard him stumble out again but Thace had beamed instead, “Lance! Glad you could make it!”

Keith blinked at the name, considered it, and shrugged. Lance actually wasn’t a bad name. Didn’t sound anything like Alejandro though. How’d that happen.

Oh well.

He went to his corner at the far end of the yard and decided to start nursing his drink. (Though by now, this was probably a bit late)

Especially when Jenny came and joined him, still on her first drink and already bumbling, “man you really do drink don’t you?”

Keith said nothing. She put her cup down in front of him and asked if he wanted to finish it for her. She’d made it too strong. He tried it an agreed, her being a lightweight, this wasn’t going to work out.

They traded drinks.

“So Lance is pretty cute isn’t he?” Jenny started, nudging Keith in the side on his lawn chair.

He glanced across the yard where Lance had joined on the pool game, and this time Keith really looked at him.

“I guess.” Keith mumbled. He was tan, and broad shouldered, and he had a nice smile and kind eyes. He was… almost too good. “He’s the kind of hot who probably knows it and so doesn’t actually expend any effort in meeting people.”

Jenny nudged him harder, some friendly kind of reprimand, “Oh come on Keith, don’t be like that. You’re telling me you’re not into him?”

Keith glanced at him again, watched him turn to face Regris, laugh at a joke.

“I’m not saying that.”

Because he absolutely was not saying that.

But.

“But it’s not like it matters. It’s not like he’d be into me even if I was inclined to wandering into that kind of hell again. It’s cool.”

She pouted her pretty pink lips and Keith rolled his eyes for the hundredth time that night, “Jen. How about you cut to the chase. Lo’s gonna be a no show so you want to go flirt with him. Go, it’s not like I called dibs or anything.”

Her pout stretched into a smile and she clapped him on the back, “Oh, you do know me don’t you!”

Within moments she had taken up residence on a bench beside Lance as he continued to stare straight ahead, probably watching the balls roll across the felt. Keith did too anyway, from the opposite side of the table.

Keith finished her drink without realizing and noticed she’d never even taken his.

His tasted better.

He finished that one too.

At some point during the evening someone very tall came in and took Lance’s spot in the game and Jenny’s attention.

Ah, the elusive Lo, Keith thought to himself, eyeing the guy who’d come in.

Now, Lo was also attractive, but somehow had thrown off less of a…presence.

It was strange.

But then, Keith was drunk.

So what did it matter?

He caught Lance’s eye across the table, noticed how the dark blue t-shirt was just a little tight on his shoulders and made Keith want to walk over and shove his face into the mans chest.

Ridiculous.

Drunk.

Had Jenny’s cup had whiskey? That would have been a problem.

Lance pat his hand down on the empty bench space beside him and nodded to Keith. Keith blinked at him, then at his two empty cups, then at his imaginary impulse control, and decided, “…why not.”

He stood up, probably a little shakily if he was honest, and wandered over to Lance before slumping into the seat he’d been offered, “Hey.”

“Hey.”

It was quiet save for the strangers talking and the snapping of a pool stick against ceramic.

“So your friend Jenny was telling me about you,” Lance started with a little bit of a smile. Something Keith had already seen plenty of so he was aware of the restraint in the expression.

“Was she now?”

“Yeah.”

“And yet you still asked me to sit with you.”

“Oh did I do that?”

“Oh did I read that wrong?”

“No.”

Keith didn’t miss a beat, “Then own it.”

Lance grinned, a severe degree less restraint in the show of teeth, “I wanted you to sit with me.”

“Cool.”

“Cool.”

Jenny came by, particularly chipper as things seemed to be going well with Lo who was standing to the side chatting with Thace and Regris while a few of the still unnamed strangers had separated into other groups around the yard.

“Do you smoke Lance?” Jenny asked. “I know Keith doesn’t so—”

Lance made a funny croaking noise, like Jenny had just made a bad joke and he was trying to humor her, “No. No. That’s just Reg.”

Keith decided to keep the little mental fanfare from playing in his face. He’d never kissed someone who smoked cigarettes, but he didn’t like the smell and wasn’t inclined to it.

Jenny was about to say something, tapping a pen on Lance’s shoulder (godddd those shoulders) when Regris and the other two vaguely named strangers called her over.

“I didn’t mean—Oh alright, you two keep talking, I’ll leave you alone.” She smiled and ran off to the other side of the yard with the guys.

She’d dropped her pen onto Lance’s lap.

Keith eyed it and before looking up at Lance who shrugged and was about to reach for it, put it on one of the tiny tables on either side of them, when Keith’s hand shout out first.

With the pen now at his disposal, he pulled off the cap with his teeth and grabbed Lance’s arm with his free hand, “I feel like drawing.”

That awkward amused grin was back on Lance’s face and Keith had no idea how to describe how that stupid smile, when registered for what it really was, did ridiculous things to his heart.

“You like to draw?” Lance offered.

Keith made a non-committal noise and started to pen little stars around the freckles on his arm.

“He loves it!” Jenny announced, running back over while the guys started to wander into the house. Neither Keith nor Lance seemed to notice or care that the yard was slowly emptying.

Keith was more distracted by the fingers lightly laying on his thigh as he drew down the man’s arm. Probably would have cared about the fact she was outing him like that otherwise.

“Here, I have a blue one too.” She grinned, “In case he wants an option.” She offered another pen to Lance who smiled good naturedly at her but otherwise didn’t move much for fear of disturbing the little doodle artist.

It was a few minutes later that Keith raised his head from his makeshift canvas and realized most of the yard was empty.

“Where is everyone?”

Lance looked just passed Keith’s head and let out a long slightly high pitched noise, “I… have no idea.”

“Should we go find them?”

“Do you want to?”

“…Not really.”

Lance huffed out a laugh through his nose and raised his hand up toward the yard light, just to see what Keith had drawn.

“Nice. Like a tattoo.”

“The crappiest pen tattoo. Yup.”

“Your turn?”

Keith blinked at him, then at the pen in Lance’s other hand and laughed outright, “Oh. You want to draw on me now?”

Lance arched an eyebrow, (a very nicely formed eyebrow too. But there was no way this guy went out and got them done, right?) “Well it’s only fair isn’t it?”

Keith scrunched up his face and looked thoughtfully up at the yard awning above their heads that was blocking the night sky from view.

“Who said I wanted to be fair.”

Lance laughed again and it made Keith wither in his seat a little, made him want to be compliant. Made him want to make the other happy.

Too much to drink. Probably. For sure. Right?

“Well!” Lance chuckled, “How about I only draw a little, and you can keep working on mine?”

Keith would have said yes regardless, so he offered Lance his hand, “Have at it.”

Lance drew stars too. Equipped with swirls of space dust and crude little ringed planets.

Keith added detail to his night sky, shading and adjusting the “sketch” here and there. Lance giggled occasionally, the pen apparently tickling his skin. Keith wasn’t ticklish, but he did like the way Lance’s palm pressed against his arm as he drew.

When they did eventually walk through the house in search of the rest of the party they didn’t find them. They went out to the front yard, to see if the cars were there, but all vehicles were accounted for.

Keith wasn’t sure what was going on, but Lance pieced it together when he noticed one of the cars had very dull music playing. The window tint made it difficult to see in the dark, but there were definitely people inside.

“That kind of smoking. Damn.” Lance scoffed, motioning toward the car.

Keith finally noticed it then and realized quite suddenly what Jenny had said earlier, “…She thinks I don’t smoke?”

Lance blinked at him. Keith blinked back and then offered him an awkward laugh, “You can forget I said that.”

“Sure.”

“So now what?”

Lance glanced at the packed car, shrugged his shoulder and then motioned for a car parked across the street, “Wanna listen to music?”

“Sure.”

Keith would later try to blame the alcohol for what happened next. When Lance took his hand and pulled him across the street, reaching into his pocket for his car keys. Lance didn’t get the chance to pull them out because Keith had tugged on his hand and turned him around to face him.

Keith stepped forward and Lance stepped back until his own car blocked him in.

Keith wrapped his arms around Lance’s neck, waiting for some kind of confirmation.

He got it in the form of Lance’s arms around his waist and a smile that was so very soft.

Hopeful.

An expression Keith remembered having worn himself, on occasion.

He probably wore it now.

Lance’s eyes were very pretty.

Calming.

Safe.

Lance was a stranger but somehow he was also… home.

These arms kept him stable, covered in little ink stars to match the ones on Keith’s own skin.

When he kissed Lance that night he’d blame it on the alcohol. He’d tell himself it was a one time thing. No big deal.

It wasn’t like Lance’s lips were the softest things he’d ever felt and that his warmth didn’t envelop him and take him somewhere so far away his problems felt so small. It wasn’t like standing there against the little blue sedan in the middle of the night was the closest Keith had ever been to whole.

He’ll tell himself, when they crawl into the car together and end up do nothing more than holding hands and listening to music and telling each other little anecdotes, that it meant nothing.

He’ll tell himself for weeks that he’d been an idiot to type his number into Lance’s phone, that Lance would get tired of him and that it just wouldn’t work out.

He’ll tell himself for months, when he has Lance in his arms almost nightly, that it’s not love.

It’s not love. It’s not love.

He’s not stupid enough to put himself through that again. No.

When Lance tells him how important he is, how special, how…

“God, Kitten, I knew you were mine the moment I saw you.”

It’s not…

“You’re joking right?”

“Okay, you’re right, my first thought was, “who the fuck am I? who the fuck are YOU?” But somewhere between you being a giant psycho and you telling everyone the wrong name I decided. This one. This one is definitely mine.”

“…”

“With your greasy mullet and your pajama top and your attitude.”

“…”

“Definitely all mine.”

Fuck.

“I think…”

“Yeah, Keith?”

“…I think it’s your turn to pick the show tonight.”

“Sure.”

....

.... .... ....

.... .... .... .... ....

When Keith does say he loves him it’s two cups in, Jenny’s number blowing up Lance’s phone, and from the comfort of Lance’s lap.

After the first half a dozen times he says it Lance kisses him so hard he can’t catch his breath. But he still says it hundreds of times that night. Desperate. Because the words really aren’t enough to convey what Lance really does to him. He cries the words against Lance’s lips time and time again. Says them into his neck when he’s buried his face there, trying to breath him in. Says them against his chest as if the closer proximity to his heart will mean something.

He says the stupid word so much it starts to sound synonymous to Lance’s name.

Lance doesn’t say them back.

Keith tells himself it’s because Lance is afraid of the same things he was. He’s afraid to feel things as strongly as Keith let himself that night. He tells himself that. Lance pursued him. Lance chose him. Lance wanted him.

Lance wouldn’t kiss him like that, hold him like that, make him feel like that if it didn’t mean something in the end.

That’s what he tells himself.

He doesn’t need the words. Because Lance’s actions speak for themselves.

And maybe this is the reality where Keith gets to be right.

And maybe this is the reality Jenny was just a being a good friend.

[edgar-allan-foe]

[nameless short story]

Word Count: almost 2k with a crap ton of talking/fluff

A/N:  I haven’t been writing in a long time since college kind of sucked the life out of me for five years; however, I’ve been having a lot of personal issues arise lately and I find this as a coping mechanism (especially with my job/boss). ps - im sick D:

Shout-out to @tinny-tin, @lloyd-g, and @stiles-derpinski for being awesome and wanting to see my work.

All I see is red and blue. Everywhere. This kid is going to end up giving me a heart attack. It’s a Wednesday night and usually Peter is coming home from band practice, but in the last six months I’ve seen nothing from this boy – no instruments, no science projects gone wrong, just nothing. I feel like I’m losing him all over again since Ben. That boy was Ben’s entire world let me tell you. The way he boasted about winning the regional science fair two years in a row to how Peter was selected for Midtown’s academic bowl, his eyes glistened with tears of joy. It was as if Peter was his son this entire time.

Tonight, I lie awake worrying about this boy like I usually do. It was taco night since yesterday I saw no trace of him until he got up today to get to school. But like Ben, Peter would never voice what was rattling in his head…what kept him out all night. I always tell myself that I hope he’s talking to Ben somehow through all of this, for us. As I start to drift away from following the news as background noise and beginning a new knitting project, I hear the back window crack just slightly. At this point, the creaks and leaks throughout this apartment don’t phase me, they just give the place character.

“Crap!”

“Who’s out there!?” I screamed. I am not the type to fight, but I was boiling over with the constant absences of Peter these past couple days. It’s like this kid doesn’t have a home. I grab my extra knitting needle and tuck it underneath my skirt. I don’t think I’ve heard of anyone use one of these for self-defense in any crime show, but it’s worth a shot on being creative and terrified all at once. I hear the window squeak once more as I inch closer to my nephew’s room. One could easily shrug this off as the wind or an alley cat, but with all the horrible things happening in the neighborhood recently, I am not in any position to risk it. I place my hand by my hip, ready to grab the needle, and swing the door right open to a –

“AUNT MAY! Jesus! Put that thing down!”

“Peter! PETER!? Where the hell have you been?” I shouted. I hated yelling at my boy like this, but there was no other way to let it all out. “Y’know…I’ve made dinner, did your laundry, even ironed your decathlon jacket, and not once have I even heard you say ‘thank you’. I’m getting so tired…so frustrated. Just tell me what’s going on. Please.” I sit on the edge of the bed ready to start crying. These tears have been busting to come out for the past two weeks and it was time to let out Niagara Falls.

“May…please…stop. Don’t cry.” Peter was the sweetest kid you could ever imagine. Have you ever seen those 60s commercials for baby food where the perfect child with the biggest eyes and soft, angelic curls just makes a mess with mashed peaches and greens? That was Peter. Most definitely my boy, but fast-forwarded 15 years. When he was born, I use to call him ‘PB’ for short – Peter Benjamin Parker. His newborn locks would just sit on the sides of his face, tempting you to push them behind those ears and make room for all that gushing. He was a good kid. A lovely little thing. I slowly drop the knitting needle to the floor and embrace Peter for a long-deserved hug.

“Aunt May, I can explain. I know I haven’t been home a lot and I swear, I’ll –”

“Peter, I know you’re lying.”

“May, I love you and I am so sorry. It’s just this internship means everything to me. I know I haven’t been open with everything that has been happening, but it’s some seriously awesome stuff you wouldn’t believe it! Like today at school, I found out that I can use the gravity formula from Mr. Watson’s physics homework to detect the angle in which the Iron-Man suit needs to be elevated to reach maximum speeds for flight! Like it was the coolest thing ever to even think of stuff like that. Oh, and –”

“Okay, okay. Enough Peter. I get it, you love what you do. But promise me something,” I took a deep breath before I can finish my sentence. “Just come home, please. We – erh, I mean ‘I’ – I miss you, honey.” It’s so hard to not include Ben in every little bit of Peter’s life. They were always together and I know in my heart he would be so proud. After calming down a bit, I noticed on the edge of Peter’s eyebrow some small bruising. It was fresh, at least within the last couple hours. I’ve gotten so use to this child getting beat up, I almost expect it. Last time he came home with a black eye, he mentioned a kid named Steve from Brooklyn. Not entirely sure what Peter would be doing over there so late at night…it took at least 30 minutes without traffic to even make it to the outskirts Prospect Park – Peter’s favorite place since he was a little one. Also, doesn’t Ned live 2 blocks from us? I cannot even begin to describe how many times I’ve seen Ned in the past week looking for Peter. It’s as if he’s forgotten about his best friend too.

           “I swear…every time I feel like I’m on to something and report back to Happy…I end up not being so happy…with myself”, I whispered. I shrug off my blue sweater throw my backpack in the corner. I think that was a first for me to even remember where I place my backpack nowadays. I didn’t do too much in the suit today; in fact, I didn’t even do anything at all. I swung around and helped an elderly man get his cat from inside a dumpster. Quite large. Very fluffy. Calico? I took a few photos of some pigeons. Oh, and escaped a near arrest yet again! I should try to be more careful when interacting with cops, but hey, it happens. A lot of what I’ve been doing since school’s been out hasn’t been all too much. I wouldn’t even try calling it “crime fighting”. I finally perfected my training wheels protocol for shooting web grenades down by Coney though! That was amazing on how precise my vision has become with the new suit…or Karen. Should I even call her Karen? Where did I even come up with the name for Karen? Anywho, from now on I’ll have to respect both suit and her.

           My reports have gotten a lot less action-ey if you could call it that. With all the focus on just utilizing the suit without Mr. Stark replacing the tracking system, I feel a bit lost honestly. Not much is happening now in the concrete jungle. Summer is practically gone. I can smell the new textbooks in my locker already and the musk of Midtown’s hallways by the main office. It’s as if the world knows who I really am now, especially now with Mr. Toomes in jail. I slip back on my mask and make sure the bedroom door is locked. May hates it when I lock the door, so I’ve developed a new habit of playing some of my cassettes when I’m home. She seems to be liking my taste recently. I made a recent shift to listening to classic rock when building Lego empires with Ned or doing homework. It replaces the need for me to talk everyone to death, including myself.

           “Hello, Peter. Lovely evening, isn’t it? What’s with the music?” Karen is quite charming when activated I must say.

           “Nothing, I just needed someone to talk to.”

           “Well…you got me. Would you like me to initiate night mode for you?” It’s gotten quite dark since I came back. My eyes usually dim to the size of a rice grain since the bite. It’s been harder to really keep focus too when I’m reading. “Sure! Thanks Karen! I don’t thank you enough really”, I replied. “So…Karen…what can you tell me about…emotions?” I had no idea where to start. Quite frankly, I am known for terrible first impressions. Most say I’m a world record holder in that.

           “Okay. According Webster’s dictionary, emotions are defined as an intuitive or instinctive mental state based on reason, recent events, or your surroundings.” She does this a lot, so I let her talk.

           “Alriiiiight. What can you tell me about falling in love?”

           “Is this about Liz? Go tell her, she would love to hear what you really feel about her.”

           “I –I can’t. You know I am the reason she’s moving to Oregon.” My eyes are beginning to water so much, it’s hard to really keep it from destroying the mask. Karen is known to start the vacuum inside to keep it dry. She’s like May 2.0 really. “I’m sorry Karen, I feel like I’m pushing everyone away with being Spider-Man. I know what I am and who I am, but I don’t know what I want. I know I want something outside of this Stark-universe. I want to be a normal teenager again.”

           “But you are, Peter.” She deactivated the vacuum so her AI voice resonates a bit clearer. “You’re showing your emotions right now and that is what makes you normal. It’s part of growing up.” My sobbing has mellowed out to that of a puppy huffing in it’s sleep.

           “You’re right. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay? Goodnight Karen.” I peeled off the mask before I could even hear a response.

           “Goodnight Peter.”