#because these same patterns are why I keep losing friends over and over again

[stereax]

saw you post 'listen before you go', thought you'd enjoy this:

oh...

[yet-another-haven-of-dollya]

Finally! My DoL PCs and their LIs

My friends asked me if I wanted to join the School AU with their OCs and I thought for the longest time before bringing Lya to the party. Then I kinda just felt like it and drew the whole gang :D They came out beautifully so more information and separated images undercut!

The First one is of course Lya the Blossom

Main PC

Harpy transforms, Mate for Life.

Wears all white if she can.

Very light in weight, makes her defiant attempts usually ineffective.

Went through a lot to make things easier for her loved ones.

Skilled in segg but doesn't really enjoy it anymore at this point if it's not with her loved one. What she seeks in segg with her lover is intimacy and the feeling of security.

Secretly a meanie. Gets jealous easily and envious of almost anyone, but doesn't show it or act on it often.

Despises the Temple to her core but believes Jordan is a genuinely good person. Wanted to fuck him just because.

Protective toward her lover and the children at the Orphanage.

Very insecure about her financial state. She tried to make money anytime she could.

CONSENT YOU MOTHERFU-

Can't cook. Literally. Keep her away from the kitchen.

Male Robin the Lover~ (Sorry I love this title)

The one and only.

Maybe he's trying his best, maybe he's hiding from something so terrible, who knows.

Love the purple color.

Easily scared and would cry out loud if Lya was there to reassure him and demand a lot of hugs, head pats, and kisses afterward.

Clingy as hell, but luckily he's cute just enough to let it pass.

Hell lots of freckles, everywhere all over his body even though he mostly stays at home or in the shades. Sensitive skin then.

Squishy belly.

Occasionally cross-dress when going on a date with Lya but keeps it as a hobby only.

Love to do makeup for Lya and skin care together.

Grow in height a LOT since the game started and wondering why Lya still stays the same, not that he complains about her growth of boobs and ass.

Lyah the Emancipated

The second PC, made with a lot of feast boots, almost all of the Vrel coins Lya earned.

Wears all black if he can.

Demonic Harpy Chimera Transforms.

Waiting for Robin's preg contents.

2m14. Larger body type, 6/6 physic, S athletic, Vengeful Sadist. Basically all offensive.

Fucking huge manboobs produce fucking lots of milk

Almost always wears a buttplug

The only one taller than him is Jordan.

"Blood moon? Fuck Ivory Wraith I'm out."

Still works at Strip Club, mostly because he loves wearing bunny suits and he wants to look out for Darryl.

Chef. Let him cook.

Housekeeping skill F-. Drops and crashes everything every time trying to clean or deco his room.

Doesn't know how to smile but will unconsciously do so when he's near Robin.

Doesn't understand why he's still sometimes mistaken as female.

Fem Robin the Lover~

So cute and squishy.

People unconsciously smile when she smiles.

"Too precious must protect."

Her weight is top secret.

Knows it all too well that Lyah intentionally feeds her more sweet treats and creamy drinks every day during every school break but can't resist the temptation of sweets.

Accepts gaining weight during the leisurely times, but has to lose it a bit before school starts again so she can fit into the school's uniforms.

Pretty proud that her lover is a chef at the biggest Cafe in town.

Slightly less freckle than male Robin. Just slightly.

Wardrobe full of checkered pattern clothes.

Of course she can cook well.

Perfect housewife material.

Timid when using strap-on but usually gets absorbed in the moment too much she forgor to pull the buttplug out before diving her strap in.

Lyah is not complaining though so it's all good.

Last but not least Kariya the Alter Ego!

"Well somebody has to go to prison and asylum and... hmmm"

Devil transforms

Full name Sesshouin Kariya. Kariya means "Midnight' Swallow"

Not a new save file but one of Lya's older saves. Hence the Alter Ego title.

Was born cuz I was bored and wanted to go to places Lya and Lyah can't go because they're worried about their lover being left alone.

They don't set a love interest because of that, so they can't get attached and can freely roam everywhere.

Enjoy segg as it is, purely seeking more pleasure day by day.

Drooling Masochist. Prefer group.

Get bored easily but are also quick to forget, so after a while that very same thing may pique their interest again.

Zones out a lot. Absent-minded. Sometimes clueless to things that are not segg-related.

"Ahhhh Nii-chan, nee-chan, help me it's 23:55 already and I forgor to cum inside somebody today waaaaaaaa-!!"

Intentionally dress more feminine because they love showing off.

The color palette is reversed from Lya's.

" I wonder if it's blood moon soon..."

[sp0o0kylights]

Adopt a Jock Part One / Part Two / Part Three PART FOUR YOU ARE HERE Part five 

As always I own my entire soul to  @chalkysgarbagefire

Steve didn't show up to lunch that Monday. 

This was a problem, because Gareth and Eddie had carefully prepared the entirety of Hellfire to help make Steve play a D&D one-shot. 

(Well, mostly Eddie--and he'd left out the parts about how the entire goal was to acclimate Harrington to hugs and high fives. 

Gareth assumed that was a more careful conversation they'd all have later, outside of school grounds.) 

"Eds, if you jiggle your legs any harder the table is going to take flight." Gareth complained, scooting away before he got jabbed in the gut. 

"Where is he!?" Eddie muttered, glancing at his watch for what had to be the twenty-fifth time. “Are we sure he showed up to class this morning?" 

Stewart, the only person to share a class with Harrington, gave their leader an exasperated look. "Yes, I’m sure." 

He flicked his spoon, pointing it towards Eddie. "And yes he looked fine, yes, everything seemed normal, no I don't know why he's not here and no, no one fucking abducted him, or threatened him, or any of the other crazy excuses you keep coming up with!” 

Eddie’s frown deepened as Gareth and Grant traded concerned glances. 

"Maybe he just didn't want to sit with us today." Jeff remarked, approaching the topic with the same care a technician had when approaching a live bomb. 

Gareth thought it was a smart move, considering Eddie looked like he was about to rocket into the ceiling. 

"He's sat with us everyday, why would he change now?"  Eddie argued. 

"Maybe there's a basketball thing happening. Or he's saying hi to his jock buddies." Gareth tried, using the same cautious tone Jeff had. 

"We’re his friends!" Eddie snapped, looking two seconds away from losing his shit entirely.

 Almost unconsciously, Gareth and Jeff both raised a hand almost to try and help calm him.

Like he was a wild horse and they were the preteen girls in the movies determined to establish a bond before he killed their grandpa or some shit. 

This was what happened when one deviated from a predetermined Munson-made plan. Not that Steve had known that of course, but then, he wasn’t exactly catching the fallout, was he?

‘I am making Harrington buy lunch after this.’ Gareth thought, as Eddie returned to bouncing both his legs almost frantically. ‘From someplace expensive.’ 

"Maybe Hargrove ate him."  Grant suggested, as if the very thought of Billy Hargrove wouldn’t set Eddie off on a rampage. 

"I could see it." Stewart agreed. "Dude has cannibal vibes." 

"Not. Helping." Jeff hissed, his palm still in the air and hovering vaguely over Eddie’s shoulder. 

Sure enough, Eddie’s entire body tensed at the mere mention of Hawkin High’s new King. "That’s it. We’re going to find him.” 

“Have fun.” Tiff said, waving him off. 

Eddie glared. “We’re all going.” He practically spat.

With a put upon sigh, Tiff set her food down. "You really want to spend the rest of our lunch period stalking around the hallways looking for Harrington?" 

Eddie gripped the edge of the table so hard his knuckles went white. 

"Yes Tiff, I do." He said, a manic gleam in his eyes. 

He shoved up from the table, striking the kind of pose he often used during his rants. “This is a break in a pattern of behavior. A veer from an established path! This is the very first sign in every horror movie that something is wrong!” 

He went to put his foot up on the edge of the table, like a pirate captain looking to the seas ahead, but instead missed it entirely and fell forward. 

Eddie flailed for a moment, before managing to catch himself on the edge of the table. Instantly he began acting like he’d intended to fall like that from the start. 

“I refuse to let any of us behave like idiotic, stupid, horror movie characters.” He finished dramatically, hair hanging in his face. 

“You’ve been watching that Sherlock Holmes show again, haven’t you?.” Jeff asked him flatly. 

“Among other things.” Gareth muttered, because as usual, he was the one who’d been watching said shows and movies with Eddie.

Not that it bothered him any, just that it meant he got to watch his best friend adopt new behaviors in real time. 

Eddie flew back up, flinging his hair out of his face with a dramatic toss of his head. 

“Come on my Watson’s! Let’s go find Harrington. I have a one-shot to pitch dammit!” Eddie outright yelled, flinging his arm skyward once again. 

He got several startled glances in the cafeteria for it, but as used to Eddie as they all were, no one bothered to say anything to him. 

“Why the fuck would we all be Watson?” Stewart muttered as he stood. 

“I agree. Obviously, I’d be Watson.” Gareth said, also getting to his feet. “You’d be Mrs. Hudson.” 

“Oh fuck you, I would at least be the other crazy smart dude.” 

“Mycroft or Moriarty?”

“Mycroft.” Grant and Jeff chanted as one, the both of them putting their food away. 

“Not one of you is any Sherlock Holmes character. Except maybe the dog.” Tiff cut in with an eye roll as she finally gave in and stood herself. "Now come on, let's go take Eddie for a walk." 

Said metalhead flipped her the bird, but otherwise didn't protest. 

(Probably because this wasn't the first time they'd had to do laps with Eddie.) 

xXx

"Maybe he just went home." Gareth said reasonably some fifteen or so minutes later. 

They'd made their way through the school, Eddie obnoxiously bursting through all the bathroom doors to loudly (and embarrassingly) yell for Steve.

They hadn't seen hide nor perfectly shaped hair of their wayward jock, and none of them were looking forward to trapezing around the outside of the school to hunt for him.

Thankfully, they didn't have to. 

"Wait.” Tiffany asked, as they passed by the small little hallway leading to the art and photography rooms. “Is that Steve?"

Immediately all heads turned towards the direction she had pointed in. 

"I think so?" Jeff guessed, eyeing the guy standing in the hallway down from them. 

Gareth squinted, trying to get a better look. "Looks like." He agreed. "Also looks like Tiff was right, he is hanging out with other people." 

Eddie tensed at that. A true feat, Gareth thought, because he was already wound so tight he looked in danger of snapping in half. 

 "Fucking useless." Tiff muttered. 

Louder, she said; "Let's try that again. Isn't that our idiot jock with his ex-girlfriend and the guy she supposedly cheated on him with?" 

The lot of them watched as Steve stood in one of his classic defensive positions (arms tucked into his sides, back rigid and chin down, like he was about to perform some kind of football tackle.) 

Nancy Wheeler faced him, her own chin raised and her arms crossed like she was about to give the lecture of a lifetime. 

In between them stood Jonathan Byers, though he was angled more towards his girlfriend than Steve. The guy practically radiated discomfort but seemed to be managing. 

Even if his shoulders were practically above his ears.  

It didn't exactly look like a two on one situation, but then it didn't not look like it either. 

"Shit." Gareth said, which summed up the situation rather nicely. 

"Should we go save him?" Grant asked, concerned. 

Not one person moved.

 Instead, all eyes went to their fearless leader--who was uncharacteristically silent. 

Gareth took in the narrowed, frantic-turned-furious look upon his friend's face and wondered vaguely if he was going to have to stop a murder today.

Possibly two, depending on Byer’s involvement. 

"Defensive position boys!" Tiffany called out, breaking the spell with sheer volume as she made the decision for them. "Eddie, you with us or not?" 

Brave words for her, considering Gareth knew damn well that Tiff was often more bark than bite. 

Thankfully, it worked. 

"Right!" Eddie barked, jerking in place as he came back to himself. "Our Stevie needs us, men and Tiff!" 

He pointed forwards, like a war general leading a charge. "Hellfire, move out!" 

Fanning out into a triangle behind their club president, the lot of them followed as Eddie marched forward. 

"You know I didn't mean it like that." Nancy was saying, and even though Gareth didn't know her he could tell she was frustrated. 

 "You have people you can talk to. You have m--" she cut herself off when Eddie strode up next to Steve. 

Then blinked rapidly, reminding Gareth of a startled cocker spaniel when the rest of Hellfire fanned out around Harrington like wolves guarding their young. 

(Or brightly colored and very angry ducks, but wolves sounded cooler. 

Plus the last time he'd said something like this aloud; Grant had loudly informed him it was actually Muskox that made protective circles, Stewart brought up that triceratops were cooler, Jeff decided they should be bees and Tiffany had gone off on a tangent about badly done animal behavioral studies.) 

"I daresay I agree!" Eddie said, taking a dramatic leap forward and startling Steve and Byers both. 

That alone was a cause to worry--Gareth couldn't recall a single time Steve wasn't hyper-aware of his surroundings enough to get properly lost in it. 

At least lost enough that he missed an entire group of people approaching. 

"Steve is more than welcome to talk to people! His people." Eddie leaned forward a touch, the smirk on his face the one he used when he was playing up his role as the town's satanist cult leader. 

To her credit, Nancy recovered remarkably fast. "I take it you believe that's you?" 

Eddie reared back, like a cobra rising to strike. "Why Nancy Wheeler, Stevie here is an adult and can choose who he wants to talk to.”

He turned, one hand over his heart and the other held out to Steve. " Ain’t that right, big boy?”

Nancy and Byers both just stared. 

Gareth couldn’t blame them, he was staring too. 

Apparently deciding Eddie was too ridiculous to deal with, Nancy returned instead to talking to Steve--who, Gareth noted with more than his fair share of pride, looked a bit more grounded now that Hellfire had arrived. 

“I understand that we’re in a weird place right now, but you have to  know I still care about you, right?” Nancy bit her lip, clearly unhappy to have an audience but plowing ahead anyway. 

"I'm fine, Nance.” Steve told her, voice steady, but growing flat. 

 He was shutting down--shutting her out, if not everyone out. Gareth knew, if only because he’d watched Harrington do it to them more than once. 

(Knew because he himself had shut downs just like this. Eddie and Nancy were the kind of people who got loud in their anger, demanding people see and face them. 

Gareth on the other hand, even with his more explosive temper, often ended up more like Steve when faced with breakdowns with people he cared about. He didn’t want to hurt them. To say the wrong thing, to lash out when someone was just trying to help.

It was safer to shut up, back away and put some distance between yourself and whoever had pissed you off.) 

Either Nancy wasn’t aware of that or was too deep into her own emotions to see it, because she took a half step forward. “I know you’re not fine. I know you, Steve.” 

“Not anymore you don’t.” Steve responded, and Gareth wondered if he realized he was leaning away from her--and towards Eddie. 

Considering the way Wheeler’s eyes bounced between them, he knew she definitely had. 

Quite possible Byers too, from how he had to stop himself from pulling Nancy away. 

“I’ve been working hard to become someone else.” Steve added. “So you don’t have to feel responsible for me. I’m not your problem anymore.”  He spoke without malice, just with the pure emptiness of someone who completely believed everything he said. 

“Steve-” Nancy protested, but Eddie cut her off. 

"You heard him." He said, peacocking his little social win in a way only Eddie could. "Now if you don't mind, I have extremely important things to discuss and you have cut drastically into my time." 

He flicked his fingers in a shoo gesture, one that made Nancy's eyes spark in a way that quite frankly, terrified Gareth. 

"Fine." She grit out through clenched teeth. "You know I’m always available to talk, Steve." 

She strode off, passing Steve and the rest of Hellfire without a glance backwards. 

"Sorry man." Jonathan muttered apologetically to Steve as he passed, following after his girlfriend. 

Steve waved him off. 

"Well she's just a delight." Jeff muttered, once Nancy was well out of hearing range. 

Steve's entire chest heaved in a sigh, swaying slightly backwards as if the entire confrontation had physically drained him. 

"She's trying to help.” Steve muttered softly, scrubbing a hand down his face. “She's just...coming at it wrong." 

He turned, seeming to finally notice that all of Hellfire was there. "What are you all doing out here anyway?" 

"Rescuing you." Grant informed him. 

"From Nancy and Jonathan?"  Steve said in disbelief. 

Like Byers hadn't supposedly kicked his ass already. Nevermind the moping Wheeler had caused. 

(The entire school had witnessed the moping. 

It was, after all, part of what had drawn Eddie to Steve.) 

"Yes." Tiff replied bluntly. “Also if she corners you like that again, I will make it my personal mission in life to top all her test scores.” 

"I--okay." Steve blinked rapidly, clearly unsure of how to process that.

“Not that I needed rescuing,” He continued after a moment, staring at the whole group. “But why were you looking for me in the first place?” 

His voice was slowly recovering, coming out of that weird flatness it had scrunched itself into. It was an excellent sign, a sign of trust, and Gareth leapt to keep it before someone could say something stupid and fuck it up. 

"Eddie needed you to pitch his next one shot idea and couldn't wait for you to show up." Gareth admitted. “We decided to hunt you down since you were missing lunch.” 

“Oh.” Steve blinked again, and though it’d be concerning on anyone else, the guy just looked like a lost puppy. “I’m sorry man.”

“It's alright Stevie. I just thought you'd totally ditched us.” Eddie sniffed dramatically, looking like he was going to wing an arm around Steve’s shoulder but thought better of it. “No biggie.” 

He pouted, and made absolutely sure Steve could see him do it. 

“Is this you trying to get more of my M&M brownies?” Steve asked after a moment. 

“Oh my dear, sweet, athletic friend. Not at all. Instead, you are going to play the one shot I worked so hard on.” Eddie bounced his shoulder into him as he spoke.  

 It was a weird little compromise the two of them seemed to have, since Gareth had regularly witnessed Eddie ping-ponging off Steve’s shoulders. “Let us break your tabletop cherry.” 

“Or what?” Steve asked, the tiniest bit of humor peaking through. 

Eddie stared at him, abruptly still and completely serious. “I will cry, Steven. Loudly.” 

It brought a small smile to Steve’s face.

“Fine. I’ll play your dumb dweeb game.” He said, and couldn’t seem to stop the smile from overtaking his face when Eddie threw his arms in the air and cheered. 

“Come on, I’m pretty sure the bell rang forever ago.” Jeff said, as they began to venture out back to the main hallway. 

(“Hey guys?” Steve asked, right before they all split up to go to their various classes. “Thanks. For the save.”

Eddie positively beamed. “Anytime, Steve. Anytime.”) 

xXx 

“Hey Gareth?” Steve asked a few days later, joining Gareth in the library during his free period. 

(Gareth himself was skipping, because if he had to listen to yet another lesson on the Crucible he was going to declare himself a satan worshiping witch and demand to be hanged.) 

Gareth hummed to show he heard, as he carefully took stock of the loot he’d gotten from their last game. Eddie had been pretty good about it for once, and he wanted to look things over before the one shot. 

“Can I ask kind of a weird question?” Steve rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed. 

“Shoot, Stevie.” Gareth replied, finally comfortable enough to use the main nickname Eddie had nailed the poor guy with. 

“Did Eddie give me a character with bad eyesight or “night vision” or whatever, because he thinks I have bad eyesight?” Steve’s fingers made sassy little air quotations around “night vision” because he knew damn well it wasn’t called that and didn’t want to get chewed out. 

It was appreciated, even if it was cheeky as shit. 

Gareth stopped writing. “Why’d you think that?” 

“He just keeps acting like I’m my character.” Steve replied with a shrug. “Like all that stuff we planned  about how my character gets around and relies on the group since he can’t see that great in the daylight? He does it for me too.” 

“It’s Eddie, he’s eccentric.” Gareth struggled to keep a straight face, trying not to give the game away. 

Laughing would absolutely clue Steve in to the fact that Eddie was doing it on purpose. 

“He just keeps telling me before he touches me. Outside of the game.” Steve continued, utterly baffled. 

Of course, Eddie was doing far more than that, in order to keep up the appearance that he was just being a weirdo who was too into his game. (Instead of trying to alert Steve to the fact he was going to lean on him, hug him, or do any other thing involving skin to skin contact that usually made Harrington panic.)

“If you don’t like it you should tell him,” Gareth said. He knew it was the better option, encouraging Steve to communicate. They could come up with something else if this was too weird (as frankly, many of Eddie’s plans could be. 

Bless the guy but he had a habit of going for the dramatic over the practical.) 

“No!” Steve protested, far too quickly. 

He cleared his throat with a cough, and continued in a much calmer voice, “No, I don’t wanna ruin his fun or anything.” 

As far as excuses go for letting something happen it was a weak one, but Gareth wasn’t going to call him on it. If Steve wanted to hide behind Eddie and his “fun”  then Gareth would happily pretend to buy it. 

Would buy whatever excuse Steve needed, to help make the guy feel more comfortable and like himself than the still often vacant ghost that hung around now. 

“Just wanted to know if he actually thought my eyesight sucked.” Steve finished in a mumble. 

“Well you did trip over the curb that one time.” Gareth teased playfully, and shot a grin at Harrington when that awkward look of his melted into something more offended. 

“I was walking backwards!” Steve defended, his normal, almost bitchy tone returning. 

“Uh-huh. And what about when you almost ate shit over that garbage can and Eddie had to save you?” Gareth taunted. 

He grinned, watching as a blush overtook the older boys face, Steve glancing away frantically and--

Oh. 

Oh!

'Oh-ho, ho, ho!' Gareth thought with absolute glee. The entire fucking school knew what Steve looked like when he had a crush, (Steve himself had made sure of that with Nancy) and Gareth recognized the beginning of it happening all over again.

Steve Harrington had a crush.

On Eddie.

Gareth could work with this.

“You know….” He  paused, grin turning sly as a sudden idea came to him. “If you want to mess with Eddie a little bit I have an idea.” 

Steve stared at him, confused. “Why would we want to mess with him?” 

Gareth leaned forward. “Because pranks are fun, Harrington. Legend has it you even used to do them.”  

Steve still didn't look convinced, but the nice thing about a man like Steve was that all Gareth had to appeal to was his sense of adventure. 

“Now." He clapped his hands together in a move that had very much been stolen years ago from Eddie. "How good are your acting skills?

Meant to post this yesterday but I got surprise laid off last week and that pushed me back a bit, sorries! Absolutely related, I have a Ko-Fi now lmao. It’s https://ko-fi.com/sp0o0kyghosthost 

Unemployment should go through just fine so I don’t really think I need to full panic but hey if you wanna throw me a dollar and yell “Dance writer dance!” I’ll do a lil tippy-tap jig. 

[xerith-42]

*bats my eyes at you* spare some angsty headcanons perhaps?

Ask and you shall receive

Laurance is triggered by the smell of burning hair. Bro had hair down to his waist and then went into literal hell, I imagine so much of it caught on fire or was maybe even deliberately burnt, and it's such a distinct smell. It rarely happens, but if a stray spark from the fire accidentally catches on Cadenza's hair Laurance kind of freaks out a little. Fight or flight kicks in but he freezes but he also fights but he's also frozen and that smell is so awful he literally wants to rip his own skin off.

Katelyn doesn't ever think she'll love again. It's why she's so put off by Travis' advances, she just doesn't think it's a possibility. Every time she thinks about love she thinks about Jeffory. Seeing him on the island, even if it was an imp, did not help matters.

Kenmur still loves Sasha. He will always love Sasha. There is no amount of time that will stop him from loving her. Even if he also loves Emmalyn more than life itself, even if he's dedicated himself to his wife and his studies, there's still always that part of him that will answer to Sasha. Whenever she's around he can feel himself being pulled towards her just from the sound of her voice.

Zianna hates the sound of silence. So many years completely alone in such a huge estate. By the time Zane and Garroth disappeared, she was effectively estranged from her husband, only staying so they can maintain this cover of the Lord and Lady of O'Khasis. But their home is massive, designed for an entire family and then some. Even after Vylad and Garroth "died", Zane kept the house busy and often had Jury members present. The hollow emptiness of her home is nearly maddening for the poor woman.

The only reason Zianna never left is because she still held out hope for all of her sons. Zianna held out hope that any one of them would come stumbling in through the front door, likely beaten and bloody, and she would be able to take them into her arms and welcome them home.

This could very well turn into it's own post but here's a few small relic angst headcanons. Aph starts to lose her sense of self because sometimes she'll talk and it won't sound like her. They have mostly similar speech patterns, and she says things she would normally say, but it sounds like someone else, and she can never put her finger on it. Others notice, but nobody can quite figure out what's wrong with it. Until Zoey hears it and says it sounds familiar.

Travis usually likes to be a bit of a know-it-all, having a lot of random bits of trivia he's just learned from years of having nothing to do but entertain himself alone in a cabin, but sometimes the facts he gives are on subjects he never studied. He knows it's because of Enki's relic and he can't do anything about it. He hates how monotone his voice sounds whenever it happens, like he isn't even happy to know this information.

I'm sorry but we cannot gloss over how much turmoil Garroth would be over getting Esmunds relic after Zane already had it. He lies awake at night wondering what the three of them have in common, what he and Zane have in common at all. How could the protector bond with such a destructive awful man? How much is Garroth really like his brother? Can he even say he isn't like his brother if they were able to bond with the same relic?

Zoey may not have personally known all the previous relic holders, but she saw them. She was ten when Irene was walking among the mortals. Sometimes when she looks at her friends she sees... someone else. Someone so familiar, so similar to them, but the details aren't right. She can't tell if this is an effect of the relics or her own dwindling sanity/life force after giving up her immortality.

And entirely for myself because I will keep rewriting Aaron in my posts, Aaron feels such tremendous guilt like all the time. The survivors guilt has consumed everything he is, even the relationship that's supposed to be healing it. All he can think about is how he let everyone down, when he was supposed to lead them. Aaron wears the bandana not because he's hiding his identity, but to hide the permanently miserable look in his eyes.

[gx-gameon]

It's exclusive to the dub, but Ishizu explains that once Atem crosses over into the afterlife, the Millennium Items would lose their magic and the shadow games would be sealed away forever, never to harm humanity again.

Just imagine Jaden's reaction to hearing that the Shadow Riders broke the seal his Uncle Atem literally gave his life to make so that humanity would be safe from the Shadow Realm. He would be ready to take each of them out with his bare fists the way Uncle Tristan taught him.

Oh I love this interpretation!!!

Jaden is pretty upset with the shadow riders in general.

I don’t know if there were any shadow games between the end of DM and the start of Gx I haven’t decided yet.

But I feel like cannon Gx disproves that idea because Jaden’s first ever shadow game is against Jinzo, a monster spirit. I feel like the shadow magic is tied to the duel spirits and therefore can’t be banished from the world without also banishing all of the monsters.

But I think the ability for a human to initiate a shadow game or have power over it is tied to the millennium items. That’s why Yami and Marik aren’t as affected as Joey and Mai are in battle city. They have a connection to an item that enhances their shadow magic.

I think the millennium items enhance their wielders own magical ability allowing them to extend themselves farther and do more with less consequences than someone without one. After all there are plenty of people in the cannon who can summon real monsters without using an item.

I think Atem would have enough power and control to initiate a full shadow game without an item. Just for virtue of him being magically trained. He can definitely summon real monsters without one.

By the end of the series Jaden can summon real monsters as well and I wouldn’t be surprised if he could initiate shadow games as well.

And there are all the physic duelist in 5Ds. They might not be starting shadow games but they are summoning real monsters and damage.

I think Jaden’s rage at the shadow riders is that they are not only using shadow games against Jaden and his friends, something he knows is extremely dangerous. But their objects are like reverse mockeries of Atem’s millennium items.

He’s knows that the millennium items weren’t all good, nor were they all used for good. But he understands that they were powerful tools that enhanced the users abilities.

He is upset with the Shadow riders having shadow charms because of the distinct disadvantage it puts them at. As we see with Camula she uses hers to steal souls and offer other peoples souls as sacrifices even when they are not part of the duel. These tools give them an advantage.

Jaden is the only person on his side with a Shadow charm. And he has to feel a bit of a connection to his dad and uncle. Finally understanding what it mush have been like to be the only one with a millennium item in this friend group. It puts you in the position of protector. Jaden’s the only one who stands a chance against someone using their shadow charm. He has to be at the top of his game. But he doesn’t have a pattern to lean on. Winged Kuriboh is great but it’s not the same dynamic and Yugi and Yami/Atem. Jaden doesn’t have a person to lean on. He’s alone.

Honestly I understand why Jaden gets so close to his spirits.

The Shadow charms are also a mockery of the Millennium items. Just the way some of them look you can tell that they were based on a certain item. And Jaden is already over it. As dangerous as this is he can tell that the shadow charms aren’t as powerful as the Millennium items. He’s not about to lose to a bunch of rip offs. Not when his dad and friends worked so hard to seal away the originals.

Not when that was the point of Atem’s journey to the afterlife.

(Sure Seto dug up the Puzzle to go after Atem. But I haven’t decided if they keep it or return it yet)

This was a great ask. I have a lot to think about. Thank you.

[hauntsthenarrative]

1, 8 and 10 for yellowjackets 👀

HEY MOOTIEEEE okok;

The character everyone gets wrong - I feel like people misunderstand so many of the characters (as an ex Misty hater who didn't understand the mechanics of a black box I have been guilty of this), but I think the main one is Natalie. I've seen a lot of people complain about how her character is largely based around Travis, but the whole point of it is to demonstrate her trauma-bonding habits and how she EVENTUALLY GROWS OUT OF THAT. While we didn't get a chance to see healed Nat apart from the S2 finale, the show explores how you have this loner girl, who's included with the team and her two friends but at the same time reclusive, with a horrific family life that prevents her from truly connecting with others (ex. Kevin, who she probably never invited over to her house to bond or otherwise EVER again), and a sex life with men who have only used her for her body. You bring her into this situation where she's stranded with the only girls who truly notice her and a guy - Travis, who has an asshole dad who is just lost. Travis keeps people at arm's length, he's got this turmoil inside of him, he's angry and isn't afraid to show it. And Nat is drawn to him because she NEVER gets to be angry- she had to be careful around her dad and take care of her mom. And she sees her inner thoughts in this guy so much. Natalie wants to be there for him in the same way that no one could ever be there for her, and it's someone she can connect with on a personal level, not someone who wants her for her body, not someone who will never understand her, not someone who will idealize her and see her for her beauty. And just as suddenly she's taking bullets FROM this guy and she's falling into the same pattern as her mother, even becoming her. But she stays with Travis for so long, because she doesn't see her father, she sees herself. And so she bonds with him, she sticks with him, she destroys him just as much as he destroys her because she wants to punish herself, and Travis, in many ways, IS her. But the problem is that Travis is also her dad, and she wants so badly to love and hate herself, that she doesn't know he's the one holding all the cards. When she loses him, she loses herself, her other half, her purpose in life, and then he dies and she will never have him in her life again. So in S2, this man who she has projected herself onto, it turns out, really isn't a part of her at all. They are 2 separate puzzle pieces painfully glued together, but they can be separated. That's why Natalie isn't with Travis on the plane to her death. She's with her younger self. Because all along, it wasn't Travis that she truly loved and accepted, and who loved and accepted her. It was the parts of her she had lost and had finally gained back.

Jesus I yapped on the first one so I'm gonna make the next one shorter. For number 8, I think people are wrong about Ben. Do I think it was awful he lit the cabin on fire? Yes, obviously that's fucked up. But this is a man who needs more food than the rest and hasn't eaten for literal weeks at this point. He is anxious, schizophrenic, and totally anti-cannibalism. He just witnessed his only 'friend' (Nat) let a CHILD die in her place and be crowned a fucked up cult leader queen for a group of insane women (and Travis). He is horrified. He is scared. He is on his last leg. Like I said, lighting the cabin on fire was horrific, but whose to say he was next? So I think it can be justified a bit in many extents.

Finally, for number 10, I'm sorry to all my Van loving mutuals, but i genuinely HATE her. I know she's starving and unreasonable but I feel like her character got really fucked up towards the ends of season 1 and the entirety of season 2. Fanon acts like she's the greatest ever but she literally told a guy whose brother she had JUST LET DIE that he was being selfish, and that she didn't regret letting a little boy die when there was a USELESS, CULTISH, HALF DEAD BITCH who was WILLING AND READY to be consumed if necessary that was offering herself up for food. Javi's whole death was fucking bullshit and literally horrific. They let Jackie sleep outside and consumed her dead body but couldn't allow an ailing Lottie to just die when she was already injured? And Van EXCUSING that behavior and on top of that TAUNTING a fellow survivor about the fact they were going to fucking eat his little brother? I feel sick. All the girls are fucked, but Van is especially shitty, and fanon needs to stop making her out to be a fucking perfect angel.

[hueberryshortcake]

We're still friends, right? for Scrooge and Della??? My best friends Scrooge and Della?

"Are.... we going to talk about it?"

"There's nothing to talk about," Della said. She slammed her bag on the counter.

Scrooge leaned back against the island, raising an eyebrow, feeling a little like he was dealing with a middle schooler again; as in all such cases, he was presuming the posture that was most confident without being overbearing, although of course it was an unconscious decision. "I wouldnae say that, you near on lost your head on me back there-"

"I was just feeling the stress of the adventure. I'm fine now." She disappeared into the pantry with much banging and a little cursing, re-emerging with a pack of generic brand Nutty Buddies, the kind they always used to share when she was young. There were two to a pack, and she'd give one to him (sometimes it was prompted, as part of the Uncle Tax, but sometimes she passed it over without either of them mentioning it). Two-packs of cookies were shared in the house - one for each twin, or one for an uncle and one for a child - that was the pattern, familiar and miniscule.

Della ripped open the packaging with her teeth. Scrooge leaned forward instinctually, expecting to receive the second wafer.

She maintained eye contact and put the ends of both cookies in her mouth at the same time. The crunch was magnificent.

[more below the cut]

Scrooge sighed heavily, crumbling a little. "I can't fix things if I don't know what I did wrong."

"If you don't even know what you did wrong," Della said through the huge mouthful, crumbs flying in a wafery mist with every breath, "then I'm definitely not going to tell you."

"Della," he grumbled, but didn't follow up, not sure what to say without losing his temper.

Della ignored him. She threw away the wrapper, then put the two half-eaten nutty buddies directly on the counter. "Okay. I'm going to go lie facedown in the hall for ninety seconds, and when I come back, I can have a conversation like an adult."

She left, shutting the door behind her. She laid facedown on the carpet. She put her face in her arms. She ignored Louie, who was passing by at that moment.

"Uh... you okay, Mom?" he asked, inching past pressed against the wall.

From the kitchen, even through the closed door, Scrooge could hear the muffled sound of someone shrieking half-heartedly into the carpet.

"Cool, love you," Louie said as he left her.

Scrooge looked down at the cookies on the countertop. He wasn't sure if leaving them there had been a power move, or some strange olive branch, or if she'd just forgotten that plates existed.

Approximately ninety seconds later, Della re-entered the kitchen.

"Have a good time?" Scrooge inquired.

"It makes me angry when you don't let me stand up for myself," she said without introduction.

He was caught off guard. "Didn't I teach you to stand up for yourself?"

"Yeah. But today you shoved me aside before I could even start to fight my own battle. That robot was heading right for me and I had the perfect opening. But you took over like you forgot I was there. Again." She wasn't making eye contact. She punched her fist into her palm repeatedly. 'And I tried to be cool about it, but it made me really mad."

"Ah, so that's why you chewed me out in front of the entire Rectangular Table."

"I guess." Della sat on the floor with her back to the island, not bothering to tuck her legs in.

"All the Knights were there." They'd stood awkwardly and watched with varying levels of discomfort and judgement as she almost yelled at him, although she wasn't particularly coherent. "You embarrassed me pretty bad."

"Yeah. It was great."

"I guess.... sometimes I get concerned about you being able to handle things."

"Because of my leg?"

"No-! I think I do the same for everyone. It's easier to keep everybody safe in my mind if I just do it myself. Like how Beakley doesn't let anyone else use the dishwasher anymore. But I forget that you're not little, now. You're a very capable adventurer and a spectacular woman. And no longer a child."

"I can make my own decisions."

"You can." Scrooge sat on the ground across from her, his back to the dishwasher.

"That's what it really is." She picked at her nail. "It's that sometimes I need you to treat me like an equal. I'm your partner. If we aren't on an even playing field we're just going to mess up even worse."

He bit the inside of his cheek. "But we're not always equal."

"Yeah, sometimes I get upset or stuff happens and I need you to take care of me or protect me. And sometimes you get hurt or don't know what to do and you need somebody to take care of you. But not all the time."

He had no idea how to tell when he was supposed to be Uncle Scrooge and when he was supposed to be Scrooge McDuck. But she'd spoken and now she seemed to be done. She got to her feet and got the wafer cookies off the counter where she'd left them.

He looked up at her from where he sat on the floor. "Are we still friends?" he asked.

Della looked down at him. A few expressions flitted across her face before she laughed, breaking the cookies down the intended line and handing him half as she sat back down across from him. "Of course, Uncle Scrooge. Always."

[winters8child]

It´s been a long, long time

Chapter 30

We walked home in silence, our footsteps echoing in the still night. I kept my hands to myself, sensing Steve's irritation even though he didn't say a word. I couldn't quite explain what had come over me. Maybe this way I could always have a part of Bucky with me, but I could understand why he was so taken aback. We were passing Prospect Park when Steve stopped walking.

"Wanna sit by the lake?" he asked, his voice tinged with hope.

I took his hand. "I would love to."

The sun was going down, and it felt like an eternity since we had just sat and enjoyed the view.

It was fairly empty. A couple of teenagers were sitting on the benches, their eyes fixated on the little screens in their hands. The pier still looked the same. They had just built a small stall that sold food a few steps away. It must have been good because people were lining up to get something called tacos, whatever that was. Ducks were swimming in the lake, eating breadcrumbs that someone had dropped for them. We sat down in our usual spot, Steve on my right and a glaring empty space on my left.

"I understand why you did it," Steve broke the silence. "We all grieve differently. If that's your way of feeling close to him, it's nobody's business, not even mine."

I looked at my hands resting in my lap. I don't know when I started the habit of biting my nails, but they were horrible to look at. I could hear my mother scolding me from the afterlife. "I still can't believe he's gone. I keep expecting to wake up from this horrible nightmare," I said, not to mention the nightmares I did have when I could fall asleep for a change.

Steve sighed, wrapping his arm around me and planting a gentle kiss on my head. I hugged his waist, drawing comfort from his warmth. "We couldn't even bury him...I just want to talk to him, one last time." I started to tear up again, my tears staining Steve's shirt. This didn't feel like grief; it felt like dying, as if someone had ripped out a part of my heart. How was I supposed to keep on living with half a heart?

Everything in this city reminded me of him. Every corner was part of a memory we had shared. Streets we ran through as children, the lake we swam in when the heat became too much, the very pier we were sitting on, just reading. Every time my heart had jumped because his hand had just touched mine for a brief second.

Steve enveloped me in his arms, his head on mine, and from the tears that fell on my arm, I could tell that he was crying too. Together we mourned the man we both loved and had lost but would never forget. We watched the sun go down, remembering him and sharing this moment of grief. Perhaps with each of our remaining halves of a heart, we could make one whole.

Neither of us slept that night. We lay in my bed, going from crying to laughing because we remembered something ridiculous Bucky had done, then back to crying because he would never make us laugh again. We closed our eyes, hoping to fall asleep, but to no avail. We lay there, facing each other, hand in hand, Steve tracing patterns on my palm.

"I'm sorry that I blamed you after he..." I whispered. It hurt to say it, but it had been eating at me the whole time. I had said horrible things as if the pain of losing his best friend wasn't enough.

"You couldn't have known. You just tried to do the right thing," I added.

He looked at me with tears in his eyes. "But it is my fault. Maybe you could have..."

I stopped him. "Yeah, maybe...or maybe not. Or maybe I would have just had to watch him die," I replied. "It is not your fault, Steve. Don't do that to yourself."

I put my hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat. I wiped his tears with my other hand, laying my head on his chest as he put his arms around me. We were a long way from being okay, but maybe someday we would stop dreading every day that we were alive.

Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months, and our lives fell into a routine, something we had not had for a long time. We gave each other the space we needed when we knew the other needed to just cry it out by themselves, but we found comfort in each other just as much. We tried new things together but held on to old things we just could not let go, like Steve's old record player. We played our favorite songs and danced in our living room.

We even watched "The Hobbit" movie in the movie theater, and I cried at the end, not because it touched me, but because Bucky would have loved seeing it, just so he could talk about how bad it was, compared to the book. On his birthday, we bought cake and ate it at the lake in Prospect Park. Even though it started to rain, we did not leave until we had finished the cake, getting drenched in the process.

We visited the graves of the Howling Commandos, leaving flowers and remembering all the shenanigans we would get up to. Steve even tried to teach me how to ride a motorcycle, but I preferred to sit behind him while he drove, letting the wind blow through my hair. Life started to feel more normal, whatever that meant. Memories of Bucky stopped being a stab to the heart; I even caught myself smiling at the thought of him, instead of breaking out in tears.

We spent the nights in my bed, and Steve barely slept in his room anymore. Falling asleep became easier, although the nightmares never subsided. Knowing that I was not alone eased my mind. He would cuddle me from behind, his warm breath on my neck and his heartbeat at my back. I craved that feeling; he was my comfort in this strange new world.

There was this invisible line that we never crossed, no matter how much we wanted to be close to each other. But every time I had my back to him, my heart beat faster, in anticipation of what could happen if I just turned around, our faces only inches apart, but I never did.

It was a night like any other. We lay there the way we always did. A thunderstorm was raging outside, rain pelting on the windows. We had gone to bed what felt like an hour ago, but neither of us was sleeping. Steve had his hands on my stomach, his head on my shoulder, his breath fanning my neck. I was conscious of every breath he took, and it felt like his body was pressed against me more than usual.

Steve gave me the lightest kiss on my neck, then moved his hand under my shirt, caressing my stomach. Shivers went through me as he continued to pepper my skin with kisses. I closed my eyes, enjoying the sensations of his fingers on my skin and his lips exploring me. He was reaching for the waistband of my sleep shorts, as I tilted my head to the side, giving him better access to my neck. He took the opportunity to continue his passionate onslaught, leaving a trail of wet kisses along my collarbone. His hands began to wander, roaming over my body and exploring every curve and contour. I let out a gasp as he found a particularly sensitive spot, my body arching against his in response.

His fingers slipped into my shorts, finding the sensitive folds of my skin and drawing a gasp from my lips. His own body was responding in kind, his desire growing with each gasp and moan that escaped my lips. He pulled me even closer to him, cradling me in his arms as he continued to explore my body with his mouth and hands. He moved his mouth to my ear, nibbling and licking the sensitive skin there as I let out a soft moan, my body reacting to his every touch.

I arched my body back against his, my breath coming in soft moans as he began to trail kisses down my back. It had been so long since I had been touched, that I already fell apart in his arms, shuddering in pleasure. I could feel his arousal against my back, so I pushed my butt into it, urging him to take off his pants. "Uhm no I, I can't I'm sorry," he mumbled, getting up and disappearing into the bathroom, leaving me back confused.

That night was the first time he slept in his room again, after a long time.

Next Chapter

[innernachoesandguacamole]

Input You, Output You

(I understand this may be completely redundant as there’s only so many ways one can describe the very simple and intuitive concept of ‘just be’, but my mind has run in circles with ‘what about the circumstances or senses’ despite the principle being repeated a million times over, so I thought I’d put my thoughts down to help myself better understand it, and hopefully help others better understand through this interpretation!)

I’ve recently been spending more time on my phone that I’d like on brain-numbing, meaningless stuff

Not just social media, but mindless mobile games

Just being inundated with excessive visual and aural stimulation that says nothing, means nothing once the app is closed

I feel drained and disconnected afterwards

I can’t engage with family or friends as much as I like, my thoughts drift back even when I’m not actively scrolling or playing, it’s like my mind becomes a jumbled pile of brainrot mush that doesn’t even make me happy

Yet I find myself going back again and again for that comfortable, predictable stimulation

But I recently came across an ig reel by Adam / etymologynerd that’s lingered in my mind since first watching: https://www.instagram.com/reel/C_VnTi2Pjg8/?igsh=djFuYnNtZnY0c290

If you don’t feel like watching he’s discussing how ai generated content’s ability to make comprehensible… anything is solely due to the massive amounts of human-created data it’s trained on

It doesn’t actually understand or create like a person does because it’s a pattern predictor, not a soul or individual being

Once it starts training on itself it loses that conscious discerner and so the outputs get less coherent until it eventually eats its own tail and just makes nonsense

Same thing can be applied to you because the human mind-body is itself a pattern predictor that spits out whatever it’s fed - think solving an equation, drawing from past experience, a mediocre song stuck in your head because you were fed it against your will by spotify’s stupid algorithm and now you’re singing the lyrics, your internal clock being fucked up because you kept sleeping at 3am lol

The mind-body is not its own conscious entity, it can’t do anything by itself

But even with all these seemingly automatic thoughts and actions, you always have the ability to consciously step out and change the scene

You as the observer bring it into existence and continue to keep it alive through your awareness of it

If you allow your awareness to follow or focus on a certain belief or habit, your world will naturally adjust to output that initial belief again and again and again

This doesn’t necessarily have to be inherently good or bad; it’s up to you to continuously check on the data you choose to input

Are you content with what you are observing? If not, why have you not already tweaked your dataset?

As you continue to submit your power to the primitive, lifeless machine of the mind-body with manufactured fears and desires and identities, does your life feel like it’s losing meaning? Do you want enough to escape that comfort of familiarity in order to go beyond?

Is the reward of loving yourself, of returning to yourself enough for you to step out of the cycle into the vastness of infinity, even with initial resistance and garbage outputs from the pattern predictor?

Remind yourself of your autonomy again and again

Your inner foundation trains your ‘AI’ to imitate the input of your focused attention and your being

Take time to take a step back from the generated illusion and focus on what speaks to you :) as the dataset consolidates, the output will naturally reflect it

Don’t worry about the how or when

You don’t need to source, blueprint, or assemble the parts of the machine in order to install it and reap the rewards

Know it’s part of you and let the magic happen

Input ____, output ____

That’s all :)

[smimon]

The other promised personal post, this one about my self-discovery that I completed last year and in the result gained a weirdly powerful feel, like when Eragon found his true name if you know what I mean

Three main paths: art, brain training, isolation.

1. Art

Art was something I always loved, of course all kids do art but I never stopped. I kept making up characters and settings and stories and theme songs and game designs. I did my first zine at like 6 years old lol.

Living in capitalism meant that the most attractive stories were beyond my reach for financial reasons, so out of disappointment I decided to start telling my own stories, as if that was hard. This was all very early in my life and I believe I was always meant to be an artist and storyteller, and the skills I gained only helped me later.

Like when things started to get more difficult around middle school. When family started demanding and gave nothing back anymore. When the only protector I had left me alone to pursue a career, repeating that if they can handle it, I can too - but I was still a child.

When it was forbidden to talk, feel and hurt, I kept creating. Losing myself in fiction, which years later turned out to be much less fictional than it seemed. Most of my writing was about myself this whole time. I was scared someone might find out so I concealed the message so deep that I alone couldn't see it anymore.

And new stories kept coming, I kept drawing, the XP I gained brought improvement. Never completing anything but always creating something new, finding endless joy in rotating the blorbos in my head. And this continues until today.

Many many times I had doubts if it's all worth anything, a devil telling me I should drop art. And always some inner force pushing me back to the drawing desk. So many times I had to ask myself the question: why do I keep making art? And finally, very recently, I have found the answer.

I am an artist. Artists make art. It's that simple.

2. Brain training

Similar to other body parts, brain can be trained. Solving puzzles, finding patterns, learning, math, there are many ways.

For me it was trying to understand my family.

Recognizing patterns level hard. Predicting what will happen. Inventing ways to protect myself. Teaching myself to do things no one would explain to me but everyone demanded me to know.

School was easy compared to this. Studying gave results in a short term, sometimes it was even fun. Teachers noticed and behaved as if it was their success. Other kids' parents noticed and started bullying their children to get the same results, because if I can do it, why can't they? They were not abusive enough to trigger a similar mechanism, but abusive enough to make their children hate me.

But I haven't noticed. I had a few friends and did not even notice everyone else was against me. This was my elementary and middle school, and then at high school the level was much more even so I could be more invisible.

All the time I tried to figure out my family, and they kept surprising me. All the time I could get good grades, and felt like this is the only thing I am good at.

But as Master's degree approached, I had to accept this can't continue forever, that I am not smart enough to get a PhD. That after graduating I will have to start a job, live a normal life, do things I never learned. I was sure I will die within months, but hey, it's been years already and it only gets easier!

My true victory came just a few years after. I have finally realized there is no way to understand my family because they are simply irrational.

That's it! I am free now! High-fiving all the mathematicians who proved a problem to be unsolvable because hey, that's an accomplishment too!!!

3. Isolation

Introverted by nature, I don't like to spend too much time with people, especially the same people over and over again. Especially my family. Three days is my limit.

And I was tied to them all my life. So when I finally moved out, the sudden experience of freedom overwhelmed me. I did not want to give it away until I get saturated with how good it feels to be alone. Also, gaining distance feom my abusers allowed healing to start. But before that, long hours of remembering and understanding and grieving. Gaining courage to finally meet myself, discover who I am. Forget who I was supposed to be. A journey of self-discovery that brought peace and hope and skill and confidence.

But I am still human. Humans are social animals. I need some contact every now or then or I go insane.

For a few years, I used pokemon go. Going to raid hour every week. But everyone was busy playing so the contact was very shallow.

I started going to fandom conventions trying to relive the same kind of wonder I felt as a teenager. It is different this time, of course. I got used to the fun parts. Nothing seems as impressive as earlier. But even then, I felt like this is my place, and my kind if people. I only needed a way to connect.

Then Käärijä happened, of course. Suddenly I had a thought: the biggest fandom convention in the country doesn't have much to offer for me, but maybe I can do something crazy, maybe I can make this event a bit more me-friendly. I returned to fb after years of break to ask on groups if there are any Käärijä fans willing to meet up.

And they were. It only gets crazier from there.

I started talking to some of them. One suggested a Frank fanclub because we all had some Frank gadgets. I designed a sticker. I designed another one. I organized three meetups, day after day. People came. I made friends. A group chat was founded. Was it me who did it?

Then another crazy idea. Make more stickers. Repeat this at other conventions. And so my convention tour started. With many many stickers.

And then I start a daily Käärijä sketchbook. And then I find friends through the stickers. And then I find friends throught the art. And then the friends warm my heart and break it open and put a foot inside so it doesn't close back too soon.

And I realize I am not alone.

Okay?

So I am an artist, I stubbornly forced my way through my early years and ended up with a pretty cool job, and now I get just enough money and independence to decide how to spend time with people who are in general pretty amazing after all ✌️ still no idea what I want next but I am really happy I made it to here

[daydreamgoddess14]

So Long... As You Love Me?

Ted Lasso / Rebecca Welton

No. 14 - When Rebecca falls hard and tells him (or Ted figures it out a different way), Ted doesn't want to ruin their friendship. Rebecca suffers, Ted maintains he's not in love until there's a moment.

A 3.11/2 retelling - Rebecca does have a truthbomb but Ted is still reeling from his mom’s visit - should he stay or should he go?

~~~~~~

"Do you know what time it is?" Rebecca asked confidently. 

"Uh, 9:30. Or half nine as you folks say over here for some goofy-ass reason." 

"Mm-hmm. That's just to annoy Americans." She admitted. 

"Ah.Yeah." 

"No, this is that time of year when I come down here and reveal something to you." 

"Oh, snap! That's right. Okay. Well, here we go. Uh, you know what? Maybe I should guess this year. No, no, no, that's silly. Yeah. No, you just go ahead and tell me. Go on, let 'er rip." Ted pretended to brace himself. 

"I… shit. I knew I shouldn't have listened to Sassy."

"What's Sassy Smurf got to do with your truthbomb, boss?"

"Girl talk. She told me why she really turned you down when you asked her out. She said it was because you liked me, which I told her was absurd of course, but then she got it into her head that I like you which I again, told her was ridiculous but… well…" Rebecca had near paced a hole in the floor, "I think she's right. No. No, I know she's right. I like you, Ted. I love you, actually… That's it. That's my truthbomb."

"Well holy smokes, boss. That's uh, that's pretty unexpected."

"Yes, indeed. Surprise!" She waved her jazz hands with a self-conscious smile.

"I guess I actually have one for you too, boss… I'm gonna go home at the end of the season."

"For a holiday? Because the end of the season is next week, Ted?"

"For good."

"Oh." She breathed, and then remembered her own yet to be acknowledged truthbomb, "Oh ." Shame and anxiety washed over her, she felt exposed and unmoored. She fumbled for the door, brushing past him.

"Wait, we should talk about what you said?" He tried to stop her, 

"No no. No need, Ted. No need at all. Fully umm… respect your decision. You have my total support." She stuttered numbly, barely registering her own words. 

"Boss… it ain't that I don't -, I mean, I don't want you to think that I don't have feelings for you. Heck in another world, Rebecca I would never have waited this long. I'm sorry, I just -, I can't. I can't do this right now." The rejection took Rebecca's breath away. She'd sensed it was coming in his change of subject, but to hear his resignation at the same time? To be rejected as a friend as well as a life partner? The thought of not having him in her life at all hurt like no pain she'd experienced before. More than the pain caused by her father, by Rupert. None of it compared to the intensity of the pain of losing her soulmate. The love of her life that she'd waited so long for. Who didn't feel the same way. It was too much. The fences go back under construction, higher and stronger than ever before and Rebecca protects herself, she puts on her game face.

"Totally agree, Ted. No idea what I was thinking. Just being silly old Rebecca. I'll just go and get on with the day." She pushed past him and through the locker room without even glancing at Will. 

 

They spend the remainder of the week in a not-quite-talking limbo. Deliberately keeping each other at arms length - Ted unable to move past his mother's declaration that Henry needs him, and Rebecca unwilling to discuss both her own truthbomb, and the impact of Ted's. Preparations for the final game go on as planned, the team also dealing with the stress of losing Ted and Beard regardless of the final results on Sunday. Uncertainty reigns on Nelson Road. It sets Rebecca on edge and unnerves her in a way she hasn't felt since she spent every waking hour treading on eggshells around Rupert. She feels the same trepidation. It eats into her sleeping pattern, her appetite and her day to day conduct. She stays late at night and arrives early in the morning. She avoids Higgins and Keeley's desperation to discuss Ted's departure and buries her head fully in the sandy soil underneath the beautifully maintained Nelson Road pitch. In her periphery, she can see that Ted battles his own demons. She can see that he's struggling with his decision to leave, torn between Henry in Kansas and his found family in Richmond. The team alternate between teasing him for leaving them, and actively berating him for it, their emotions uncontrolled and overwhelming. For those who don't have families locally with them, or even in the same country, he's a father figure - the closest thing they have to a parent. They're still so young really. The week progresses and Rebecca moves from replacement discussions to considering selling the club. Although the rejection by Ted burns, she quickly realises that she'd still follow him anywhere if he'd only say the word. But he won't. He can't, and she can't force his hand - she would never take a father away from his son. Following lunch with her mother, she tries one last attempt. Goes to the mattresses as they say. Offers of obscene amounts of money, schools for Henry, anything she can think of to sway him. She doesn't speak again of her love though. It's too much, if she starts she's afraid she'll never stop. She keeps it strictly professional, if that's what he wants, that's what he'll get. 

 

The morning of the match dawns. They're literally an hour from taking to the pitch when Roy asks to join the Diamond Dogs. The words ring in Ted's ears, 

" Change isn't about trying to be perfect."

"Perfection sucks. Perfect is boring."

"Oi, what the fuck is up with you? And don't say it's the leaving blues, you've been weird all week." Roy asked Ted. 

"Rebecca's in love with me." All eyes turn to him. 

"What. The. Fuck?" Roy recovers first. 

"How long did you sit on that little nugget?" Trent asked. 

"And you didn't tell moi?" Beard looks visibly hurt.

"She told me last week, she told me and my only response was to tell her I was leaving."

"Ouch,"

"Brutal,"

"You're a twat. You really are, an incredible person like that tells you she loves you and you tell her you've booked a flight home?" Roy is first to Rebecca's defence. 

"I've seen you do dumb shit, Ted, but that really takes top prize, man." 

"How did she take it?" Nate asked. 

"About as well as you'd expect," he admits, sadly. "I think I might be an idiot?" There are hefty nods of agreement all round. "I think I might not want to leave?"

"Oh thank god!" Nate breathes. 

"It's not too late to back out, buddy." Beard reassures him. 

"What about Henry?"

"Speaking from personal experience, I know my daughter is far happier and more settled now that I'm honest and open about who I am. Living a lie will only cause pain for everyone involved." 

"Thanks Trent, I appreciate your honesty. Rebecca offered to help me relocate Henry and Michelle if that's what I wanted. I turned her down."

"Sounds like you need to have a talk to Michelle and figure out how to move forward as a family unit rather than a married couple. You just accepted the terms of the divorce because it was easier than the pain of dealing with it. Time to put on your big boy pants, Coach." Beard told him. 

"We need to deal with this match first, fellas. Let's go. Dogs dismissed."

 

The match is hard work. With fraught emotions, the Greyhounds are down 2 - 0 at halftime. Rebecca slipped into the locker room during Ted's talk. 

"We don't wanna know the future. No, no, we wanna be here right now. And look, I-I know we're down a couple goals. But I'm telling you, man, if y'all play hard, play smart, play together and just, you know... Just do what y'all do, and we'll go out with the peace of mind knowing we did our best. Right? That we tried. Yeah?" The players murmur arpund him. 

"All right. Anybody else have something to say?" 

"Coach?"

"Yeah, Sam, what you got?" The young man stood and retrieved a small piece of yellow paper from behind his Nigeria team photo. Jamie was right behind him, taking a piece out from the book he'd supposedly thrown away.  Isaac's was battered - kept in the band of his captain's armband, the whole team stood and added their contribution, some embracing each other as they did so. From the doorway beside Trent, Rebecca watched with tears in her eyes. With a shrug of acknowledgement, the team set to work assembling the jigsaw. They stood back slightly puzzled as they appeared to find one piece missing.

"Ahem." Rebecca cleared her throat. From her bag, she pulled out a little green army figure, 

"Oh!" Jamie grinned, tucked between the plasticky legs was a scrap of yellow paper. Rebecca freed it and added it to the missing space. 

"And there it is. Number four. Yeah? All right, let's bring it in." Rebecca stepped forward, tucked in between Isaac and Colin, the Captain giving her hand a little squeeze as she added it to the pile. "I know folks like to say, "There's no place like home." That's true, you know. Man, there ain't a whole lot of places like AFC Richmond either. Captain?" Rebecca felt Isaac shudder beside her, 

"Richmond on three. One, two, three…" "Richmond!" The team shouted in unison. They dispersed and filtered out in small groups. As the crowd cleared, Ted caught Rebecca's eye. She gave him a sad smile and followed Jamie out. He's still left dumbstruck as Beard hustles him back out to the dugout. Seeing her with a piece of the sign, tucked in the legs of her little green soldier figurine no less, it was like he'd been struck by lightning. He's still a little dazed out on the pitch. By the time Isaac is stepping up to take a penalty, he knows . It's an awakening - he suddenly sees and feels everything as it should be. You can hear a pin drop in the stadium but from high in the stands, he hears one clear roar for the Richmond captain. 

"C'mon Isaaaaaaaaaaac!!" She bellows. He tries to imagine what other gaffers, coaches and owners might think of a total novice stepping up to take his first penalty at such a crucial moment in such a crucial game, but Rebecca shows nothing but love and support for her boys - as usual. His heart bursts. There's no place like home - it's true. And he knows where his home is. He hears it in her voice. The rest of the game is, admittedly, a bit of a blur. It's only when they're 2 - 2 and looking for one final piece of magic that he drags himself back into the game. With some obscure gesticulating to Jamie and Sam, they come up with a plan. Sam's goal is beautiful and even over the sound of 70,000 people, he's certain he can still hear Rebecca. When the final whistle blows, the crowd pour onto the pitch. The result is in from Manchester - they've taken the league, but no one seems to care. He pushes through the crowd, accepting handshakes and shoulder grabs on the way up the steps. Up and up into the nosebleeds, all the way to the owner's box where Rebecca is flanked by Keeley and Sassy.

"We didn't win the whole fucking thing, boss. I'm so sorry." She shakes her head, tears streaming down her cheeks, 

"It's OK, Ted. This is perfect, this is enough."

"No, it ain't. I made you a promise. If it's OK with you, I'd like to rescind my resignation? I need a do-over next year. I made a promise to the woman I love, and I can't let her down." Keeley gasps beside her, the cameras have picked up on Ted and though it's without sound, the images are being broadcast on live TV. She drops back down into her seat as Leslie pulls Ted up and over the little wall that separates the box from the main grandstand. Ted thanks Sassy with a little nod as she moves to let him take her seat. "I'm sorry, Becca. I'm so sorry it took me so long to figure it out. There's no place like home, right? This is my home. It's you, it's always been you." On the pitch, the team are still huddling together, but they're looking to the big screens. Rebecca can only nod as she drags Ted closer and presses her face into the crook of his neck. When she finally pulls away, the team and remaining crowd are hushed - waiting, just waiting… he cups her cheek and she smiles, the camera capturing her serene smile as Ted finally leans in to kiss her. Nelson Road is rapture.

 

FIN.

[blue-bower]

Vent time. Buckle up.

I never thought I'd see the day where I would walk out of a job. I tried to leave with patience, grace and gratitude. I tried to stick it out for the sake of my coworkers, who I genuinely love. I thought it was only fair to them, after having endured the constant mental stress for more than two years.

But no job is worth a decline in mental health. No job is worth having panic attacks on the clock day after day; being so worn out physically and mentally that we no longer have the time or the drive to do things we're passionate about. No job is worth being gaslighted and guilted into thinking we should prioritize the corporation over things that actually feel fulfilling in our lives.

To recap: I worked at a massive vacation resort, in a tourist town with a barely sustainable housing economy, therefore a barely sustainable and adequate staffing situation. And that was only becoming more and more apparent as the last couple years passed. It made me hateful, constantly angry, a nervous fucking wreck, and suicidal. If it weren't for the support of my closest friends, I...honestly might not still be here anymore.

I liked working there the first year. Sure, I had heavy new-job anxiety, I'd never worked in the business before. It was terrifying, but I had enough help and support along the way that I picked up on things pretty quickly. Too quickly, apparently. They started recommending me for Supervisor six months in. They promoted me twice; first time was to give me official permission to help in other areas around the resort, then again to focus more on back-office work. Both of which gave me the time I needed away from the front desk, away from screaming entitled old Boomers, away from the endless drama perpetuated by some of my coworkers.

But eventually, once we started losing staff and had some absolutely baffling upper-management decisions pushed on us, I was getting pulled to the front desk way more than I could mentally handle. My pleas to get back to what my role was actually designated to do and was most suitable for the sake of my mental & emotional needs constantly fell on deaf ears. Because why the fuck would a major capitalist corporation treat a neurodivergent, anxiety-ridden, nonbinary mess of a human being with respect? At the end of the day we're just numbers. Unless we're bleeding out and dying on the job, we're expected to get the fuck over it because "everyone's in the same boat, it is what it is."

I recognized a year into the job that they were starting to take advantage of me. I was falling into the same pattern of doubling and tripling my own workload out of the deep-seated need to impress my peers, to feel like I'm worth something, that I had at my other job. But I continued to let it happen, because I kept telling myself that having a job like this on my resume could land me a job in many fields. I wanted to prove to myself and everyone that I could do it. I basically developed Stockholm Syndrome. And I'm ashamed of that fact.

"It is what it is", once again, almost drove me to permanent depression and mental break. It made me backtrack on so much of my progress with improving my mental health. It drove me to start taking edibles; first once a week, then twice a week, then every other night. It's taken everything in me to break the habit before I started taking them every night. (Which yeah, idgaf what you do for recreational purposes, and I don't have the intention to fully give them up since they genuinely do help me get a lot of good story concepts written, but I learned the hard way after a few bad trips and bad chest palpitations that I still need to be careful.)

The point is: Defeatedly accepting "it is what it is", instead of DOING something to CHANGE how it is, is how people end up trapped in toxic environments to begin with, and try to pull other people down with them. Misery loves company, after all. Jobs are shitty no matter what, so might as well keep drinking poisoned wine instead of seeing if anywhere else has at least slightly less bitterness and toxicity, right?? Is it better to force everyone to stay on the sinking ship while panicking and trying desperately to patch up the holes before you drown, because you'd feel guilty if you left your crewmates behind? Or is it better to abandon ship and swim safely to shore, trusting that they know how to use the life rafts or send an SOS for a rescue ship?

It's all well and good to care about the people in your life, whether it be friends family co-workers partners etc. It's common for people, especially people with Golden Child and Impostor Syndrome, to just, naturally fall into the habit of taking way too much on our shoulders because we just want to be helpful. We're proud of being the Jack of All Trades, proud of excelling in areas that are needed in the workplace. But at some point, we've got to learn to set our boundaries, or we'll be so weighed down that we'll crumble and break.

We also need to trust that the coworkers that we genuinely enjoy working with, that are just as privy to the bullshit, that they can take care of themselves if things become too much. We should listen to the advice of people who have struggled through similar stresses and traumas. We owe it to them for having struggled together. I owe it to the awesome people in my life to help me finally make a decision that absolutely terrified the anxiety demon constantly looming over me, but ultimately freed me from the massive weight on my back.

I'm taking a good two-week gap before jumping into my next job. I'm anxious about the future of course, shit is so goddamn expensive these days, but I need to remind myself that I have plenty of opportunities to at least land a decent job long enough to save up and pack up for my eventual plans to move further inland.

I've learned an important life lesson; one that I thought I'd already learned, but didn't fully realize how much of an absolute monster the working world can be. It taught me how to be more courageous and confident in myself; how to stay true to myself no matter how much society tries to make me repress it. My main hope going forward is that I end up finding a job where I can let my true self shine.

[lacewise]

Through the horror of seeing people put a target my friends and family and knowing I could be next, onward! To

Part 4: Tacking down threads!

(So they don’t fall apart!)

(In grounds lace!)

I’ll be dealing with the ground laces first in this one, because there are two (2) different ways to work aemilia ars.

Okay so the biggest thing any guide for true needle lace will tell you is to fold a thread in half and place the first tacking stitch exactly where the fold in the thread is. This is for a very important reason!!!!

It’s so when you finish tacking down the threads, you can lock the leftover threads into the existing threads. That keeps the pattern together.

I highly recommend buying a book or going to a class to get this next part explained, but: you take one of the two halves of the thread you are working with and put it under and over (ie through the space in) the folded thread, then back up the last stitches. The other thread is put through somewhere (in a more complex pattern, it’s just hidden away from where it’s stitched down where there’s room, in simpler patterns I think it’s tucked into the original folded thread without travelling through, back, or around).

If you don’t lock it, it WILL come apart when you remove it. I’ve done a fix for this before and it’s a nightmare. It’s the same type of fix as tatting but Worse. You have to remember to lock it at every edge and every new part of the motif. If you run out of thread, that’s no problem, you just lock the old and the new.

Every tacking stitch is supposed to be approximately 3 mm apart (and that’s important for later) (unless you have a sharp corner, then you’re supposed to place an extra stitch right at the angle). I saw a hack on Pinterest where you put sharpie 3 mm apart on your finger so you have a reference while you’re sewing. It works great, with one caveat: ONLY do it with absolutely waterproof marker!!! It should not rub off at all or trust me: it will. Onto your work. (This is why a pin vise is recommended for this part, btw.)

The tacking stitches’ tension should be firm but willing to move if you put your needle under it (since you will be doing that frequently!). If you make the stitches too loose, your tension will be a mess. If you make the stitches too tight, you will be fighting against your own sewing. And you will lose. (One time I had to finish my lace after removing it from the backing. Never again.)

Okay, so you’ve tacked down your pattern. What’s next? Yeah this is why you want the stitches 3 mm apart… basically all stitches in the foundational row are supposed to be 3 mm to 6 mm apart (depending on the stitch: grounds are usually 6 mm, almost all other stitches are set 3 mm for the first row, likewise the rows are either 3 mm or 6 mm apart for correct tension, depending on the stitch). Good news! If you’ve only messed up a little and your stitches are a bit wiggly (as they are supposed to be), you can correct most of it. Bad news: if not, you are going to have to vibe it. We’ve all been there! Good luck!

For the stitches themselves, you’re going to want to consult videos or diagrams. A lot. All the time. For a while. I would especially pay attention to diagrams when you’re looking for a tension reference because sometimes people rush samples! (Except for Catherine Barley. All her samples are completely impeccable.)

I’m not really confident covering attaching or joining the thread (yet) but it’s covered in every single book and class.

Once you’re finished and ready to buttonhole over the cordonnet, you will praise or curse your sewing work once again! For a basic cordonnet, you put your thread through your work, fold it over (facing out), and then start buttonholing. It looks best when the stitches are about every 3 mm (yeah). Once you’re done, you tuck the threads in, and carefully cut off the excess. Then you can remove it from your backing and have made lace! I’ve only worked in basic cordonnets so far but Intermediate Technical Instruction, Catherine Barley, and maybe(?) Earnshaw’s book (I will go over that in my review) all have tutorials for more advanced styles.

[imnotoverlyobsessive]

Number Nine

Chapter Six: Echoes of You

AO3 author’s note/info one two three four five six seven eight epilogue extra

All my work is 18+.

You cut me up like a knife and hung me out here to dry. You’re the reason I can’t sleep through the night… I wanna forget, I remember how it was; even though you’re dead to me, you’re always showin’ up. You’re my poltergeist; demon in my head, keep me up at night. I feel you when the room gets cold as ice, sinking your teeth in a bruise. You got nothing to lose, you’re my poltergeist. Consume me, I’ll be your sacrifice.- Blackbear, Poltergeist

Three Years Later

At nearly three years old, Cassie looked nothing like her father. Her skin was darker than his, her hair straight. She had bright blue eyes framed by dark lashes, just like her mother.

Theo, on the other hand, looked exactly like Tim. At two and a half, Theodore Hal Blanchard appeared to not take after his mother hardly at all. He had his father’s bone structure, his unruly curls, even his eyes.

He was ridiculously intelligent and well-spoken for his age, too.

Tim provided Livvy with a downright ungodly amount of child support. It wasn’t even court-ordered; he just sent her the money every month. Lea assumed that this was because the bastard’s net worth seemed to double every year, bringing it up to its current state of $160 million. It was with the money he gave them that they paid the mortgage on their three bedroom house (Lea had managed to swing the master bedroom so Livvy and Cassie could have separate rooms). Her job as a theatrical costume designer at the local theater was going well, and she loved it. Her life wasn’t so bad, considering. 

Tim came to visit Cassie regularly, but Lea was always sure to leave the house well before he got there. He was consistent in giving them a few days’ notice, and she used this to her advantage.

Livvy occasionally tried to convince her to stay and talk to him, insisting that it must have been a misunderstanding. Lea didn’t see how it could be, though. He’d made it abundantly clear that he wasn’t interested in being part of Theo’s life, and if she were honest with herself, she liked it that way.

Why would she want to reconnect with the man who broke her heart? Why would she want Theo to find out his father didn’t want him? There was simply no up side.

It was fine. It was for the best. It was fine.

Cassie’s third birthday party was that afternoon, and Lea was looking forward to it. She always looked forward to having over her mother and sisters as well as her other best friend, Sam. Plus, Theo and Cassie got to see their friends from daycare. Tim hadn’t been able to be there for Cassie’s birthday the day of the previous two years, instead coming to see her a few days later. When he hadn’t contacted Livvy about his plans for their daughter’s birthday, both she and Lea had deduced that things would be the same as the previous years.

Lea was showered, her makeup carefully applied. Her outfit was nothing special: a nude bra from Torrid, pale pink panties she’d gotten in a discount bin at Target, a white patterned Artizia dress she’d splurged on the previous year, the soft fabric reaching her calves. She wore flat white sandals from Nine West that wouldn’t be too difficult to chase Theo in and studs from Icing in the same color as the pendant on the necklace Tim had given her. She wore that, too. She usually wore it, wanting to keep a piece of him close to her in some way.

Lea fluffed her hair in her bedroom mirror, adjusting the tied straps of her dress.

“You look pretty, Mama,” Theo said happily.

“Thank you, baby,” she told him, ruffling his hair and holding out her hand for him to take. “Are you ready for Sissy’s party?”

“Yes!” he squealed with delight.

Lea smiled down at her son, leading him out the door. 

It was going to be a good day. 

The first time Timothée saw her again, he half-thought she was a ghost.

He’d never been able to be there the day of Cassie’s birthday before, so he was thrilled that his schedule finally allowed for it. Since Olivia was forever teasing him about his inability to show up for his daughter's actual birthday, he thought he’d surprise the two of them. Maybe he’d actually get to meet Olivia’s roommate. 

It was clear that the little girl’s birthday party was going on at the one story house, because there was a princess carriage bounce house in the yard. No kids were out front, though, so he knocked on the door, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet and shoving his hands in his pockets, fiddling with the velvet ring box he carried with him out of habit.

There was music and children's laughter coming from inside, and he was just about to knock a second time when someone shouted, “It’s open!”

So he went inside, letting the door shut behind him, and turned to the dining room directly to his right where most of the chatter was coming from.

And there she was.

She was wearing a white dress that fell well past her knees, leaning forward and instructing Cassie how to blow out the candles once they were lit. Her hair was longer than it had been before, past her waist now, and her back was to him, but that didn’t matter. He’d know her ass anywhere.

It had been so long, but even now, even after over three years of not having her, the second he saw her pale skin, his fingers itched to touch it.

Timothée couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, because he’d been yearning for her for so long, it felt like, and there she was, right in front of him. Then, to his astonishment, a small child emerged from the group of similarly aged children and tugged on her dress.

“Mama!” the child said. “Mama!”

Mama? he thought in a daze. She has a kid? Is she married? He considered this for a moment, but quickly decided that it didn’t matter if she was married or not, if she was with anyone or not. She was his and that was that.

“Okay, okay,” she said with an exasperated-sounding chuckle, leaning down to pick the child up.

Before she’d stood all the way up, however, Cassie took notice of him. “Daddy!” his daughter exclaimed in delight.

Lea didn’t turn around, only leaning forward to brush Cassie’s hair from her face. “Not yet, Cas,” she told her patiently. “Daddy will be here in a few days, remember?”

Cassie shook her head, pointing over where Tim stood, and all the children and adults at the table turned towards where Timothée stood by the door. All except Lea. “Daddy’s here!”

“Hey birthday girl,” he greeted, and he knew the second Lea had fully registered his presence, because the muscles of her back tensed up, her spine ramrod straight.

Lea reached over, patted Cassie’s head swiftly, then grabbed a purse that was hanging on a hook by the archway leading to the kitchen.

“Where are we going, Mama?” asked the child—Timothée was fairly certain it was a boy—Lea held.

“Grandma’s house,” Lea informed him as she moved into the kitchen. Her voice was quiet, but he could still hear it under the chatter in the room.

“But Grandma’s here,” the boy pointed out.

Lea said something in response, but he couldn’t quite hear it.

He greeted Olivia, smiling politely at her. They weren’t together for very long, but she knew him pretty well. She knew about the divorce and that the flings he’d had since Lea had left were to make up for her absence.

“Hi, sweetie,” he told Cassie, giving her a hug and the present he’d brought with him from the car before standing back up. “Liv,” he addressed softly, “is that— is it really—“

“Yes,” Olivia confirmed with a nod.

“Why didn’t you—“

“She wouldn’t let me. Go talk to her. I’ll handle the party; give me a few minutes and I’ll come get Theo, too.”

“Theo?” Timothée asked, glancing at Lea’s retreating firm. “Is that her—“

Olivia fixed him with a look. “Talk. To. Her. If she gets to her car, I’m telling you right now: she’s not coming back. Go.”

He moved around the table, watching Lea hurry towards what he knew was a back door, and he stepped through the threshold into the kitchen. 

“Lea?” he asked hesitantly, and the child—Theo, he assumed—turned to look at him over Lea’s shoulder.

It took a few seconds for him to recognize his own eyes staring back at him. 

Theo was babbling at her even as she’d opened the door and rushed outside, but she’d tuned him out. She had to. She was still reeling from hearing the man she’d gotten remotely close to getting over say her name. He’d sounded hopeful, even, like he wanted it to be her. She was fairly certain that she’d confirmed her identity for him just by ignoring him and exiting the house without so much as turning around, but she didn’t have much of a choice. She couldn’t handle seeing him. 

She’d had a contingency plan in place in the event Tim showed up unannounced, one she hadn’t told Livvy about. 

She trusted her friend not to spill the beans to their mutual ex right up to this particular moment. After that point, however, Livvy was a wild card. She was too far in the camp of “Tim would absolutely want Theo if you just gave him a chance!”, completely disregarding three very important facts.

First, that she had already given him a chance three years and one month ago. Second, that Livvy shipped Lea and Tim just a little too hard to be taken entirely seriously. Third, but perhaps most significantly, Tim had made it abundantly clear that he wanted nothing to do with Lea or her pregnancy, which included Theo by extension. Fourth, the truth was, Lea didn’t want Tim in their lives any more than he seemed to want to be there. In fact, she probably wanted to see him even less than he wanted to see her.

Oh, sure, he’d be polite and say hi and all that garbage, but she knew it was just pleasantries. He was too good of a person to refuse interacting with someone if they were right in front of him. 

She wasn’t above that sort of refusal, though.

Which was why she knew that the Super 8 motel nearby would give her a room for eighty bucks or less, and that she could pay in cash, and if she slipped the clerk at the front desk an extra twenty, he wouldn’t ask for her ID. It was why she carried cash in the first place. It was why she kept a few essentials for both her and Theo in her car. It was why she was parked around the corner of the house instead of in front, so there would be less of a walk for her once she got out the side door.

She knew what she was doing, and she knew how essential it was—for Tim, for Theo, and most especially for her—that he not get the chance to say hello to her. Knowing Tim, he might do something catastrophic, like suggest they hang out or catch up or something. Either way, his politeness didn’t bode well for anyone involved, and Lea really, really didn’t want to turn Cassie’s third birthday—the first one she might actually remember—into a verbal bloodbath, which it was likely going to become if she didn’t get out of there, and fast.

She was starting towards her car, ignoring the way the grass got between the soles of her feet and the sandals she wore. She didn’t have time to worry about that now. In a few seconds, she’d be in her car and—

And then the back door opened. It seemed Tim had deigned it necessary to follow after her, because she walked faster, and he called out, “Lea!”

Lea was actually pretty good at running while holding Theo, all things considered, but not in sandals. Unfortunately, this combined with his infuriatingly long legs meant that he caught up to her with relative ease, and she was only a few yards away from her car by the time he captured her wrist in his hand.

“Lea,” came Tim’s firm voice, and she could’ve sworn it sent her back in time. Back to sharing his breaths and touching his skin and feeling him between her legs, where he belonged, where she belonged. Back to his arms around her and his fingers in her hair and his skin against her lips and her back pressed against the wall of the dressing room of some high end retailer or another as he fucked her so hard she could barely stand afterwards, the way he said her name when he first slid into her, I love you I love you I love you I love you—

She tried to jerk her wrist out of his grip, but he held fast. “Who’s that, mama?” Theo asked cheerfully.

She was about to turn around and kick the bastard in the shin when the back door opened a third time, and Lea used Tim’s surprise to wrench herself free and start marching towards her car again.

Tragically, Livvy had run track. And she was wearing sneakers. As a result, she was in front of Lea fast enough to make her head spin.

Lea stared at her friend with wide, terrified eyes, pleading with her silently to get Tim to go away, just get him to leave, for the love of god, she didn’t even care where he went as long as she never had to see him again, speak to him again.

Instead of answering Lea’s pleading gaze, however, Livvy held out her arms to Theo. “C’mon, buddy. Let’s get you some cake and ice cream. You don’t wanna miss Sissy’s party, right?”

“And then bounce?” Theo asked excitedly.

“Of course!” Livvy assured him, and he lunged for her. Livvy took him, and then Theo was staring back at Lea happily, a smile on his chubby face. Livvy covered his ears, looking over Lea’s shoulder.

So he hasn’t disappeared into thin air, then, Lea thought mournfully.

“Quit trying to run,” Livvy told her firmly. “I’ll watch Theo for however long you need, just— just talk to him, for fuck’s sake.”

Theo looked a bit confused, but it was far from the first time adults had covered his ears while they spoke.

Maybe Lea could follow after her vile traitorous excuse for a friend. They had cried over this man together, dammit. They’d spent hours sobbing in each other’s arms until their throats were sore and their eyelids were raw, and this was how Livvy treated their kinship?

Still, though, following after her was infinitely better than being left alone with the absolute last person on the face of the earth she wanted to have a conversation with, let alone a private conversation. Maybe he wouldn’t bother her as much if she was in the house around a bunch of kids.

So as soon as Livvy started back towards the door, Lea was heading after her, fully intending to walk in a very large circle around Tim so she wouldn’t have to look at him—if she played this right, she could get through this without ever having to look at him—which was an absolute necessity due to the fact that she simply could not handle seeing him. Not in person. She’d heard his voice, he’d touched her skin, and that was more than enough, thank you very fucking much. She could handle seeing him on a screen, whether it was large or small, but she couldn’t handle seeing him in the flesh.

She didn’t get very far in her attempts to follow Livvy and a chattering Theo, because Tim had grabbed her hand this time, and his grip was firm and steady and familiar and warm and—

No, she told herself firmly. Nope. Not that. We’re not doing that. We are past that.

“Lea,” he said softly. “Look at me. Please.”

She shook her head, tears falling from her eyes, and she realized for the first time that she was crying. When had that started? She wasn’t sure. Whatever, it didn’t matter.

“Lea,” he repeated, sounding frustrated. “Turn around.”

“No,” she finally snapped, yanking on her hand to try and get free. “Let go! Don’t touch me!”

“It is you,” Tim breathed. “I wasn’t sure I hadn’t lost my mind until I heard your voice, I—“ he cut himself off. “Turn around.”

She didn’t, turning her face to the ground and letting her hair fall around her in a protective curtain.

She heard the crunch of grass under his feet as he circled around her until she saw his sneakers directly in front of her. She clenched her eyes shut, hoping against hope that he would just go away, but he still hadn’t released her hand.

“Look at me,” he pleaded, and she shook her head again. He sighed, then reached down to lift her chin up, his grip gentle but firm, and then she had no choice but to look at him, and he was smiling softly down at her. “Lea,” he breathed, sounding… relieved, almost.

The memories came rushing back like a flood— when he’d first said her name, their first kiss, and god, their last, the way he’d touched her when she’d told him she loved him, the way he thrust inside her when he said it back, oh, god, Tim—

She was paralyzed by the emotions and the memories and the overwhelmingly desperate yearning that another tear slid down her cheek, and Tim frowned, moving to wipe the tear away, but she lurched back from him like he’d burn her, which she half-thought he might.

His frown deepened as she backed away from him fearfully. From his expression and behavior, she was starting to wonder if Livvy had been right, if everything really was a misunderstanding, but the truth was, she didn’t really care. She really, really didn’t want anything to do with him. He shattered her once. He’d do it again, and he’d do it with the casual smile of someone who absolutely did not understand what they were doing. 

Watching him look down at her, an expression of genuine offense on his face, her mind was essentially split into two camps: one was screaming a litany of, I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you— whereas the other was an equally loud, Get away get away get away get away get away get away—

He looked deflated, like he hadn’t known how very clear she’d made it that she only wanted to put as much distance between the two of them as physically possible. “Who’s, uh.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Who’s Theo?”

Lea crossed her arms over herself, taking another few steps back. “My son,” she informed Tim’s feet.

“Your son,” he parroted back at her. She nodded wordlessly. “And how old is he, exactly?”

Lea scratched her arm. “Two.”

“When’s his birthday?”

She was silent for several seconds. “January.”

She felt his gaze on her. “He has my eyes,” Tim pointed out.  “And my hair. And my bone structure, it looked like.”

Lea scoffed. “I have a type. So what?”

“He literally has my face, and you’re going to try and tell me he isn’t mine?” Tim hissed.

“Oh, I’m so sorry you don’t get to add to your count of fifteen bazillion kids,” she said sarcastically.

“I have two,” he snapped, holding up two fingers, then cocked his head slightly, considering. “Well, three, apparently.”

“Ugh,” she groaned in frustration. “He could be anyone’s. Just ‘cause you were my first doesn’t mean you were special.”

“I was to you,” he insisted. “You loved me, and I loved you.”

Lea rolled her eyes so hard she wondered if she’d actually damage them. “Yeah, sure. Whatever. Can I go now?”

“No!” he snapped. “No, you can’t go now. Tell me if he’s mine or not. I know you, and you’re being evasive. Tell me the truth.”

Something inside of her snapped, and she finally looked up at him. “I did, jackass!” she hissed. “I did tell you the truth! I told you the truth three years ago, and you didn’t want any part of it, so you don’t get to storm in and make demands.” She deflated, panting. “Just go away.”

“No,” Tim repeated, much to her dismay. “I’m not going away. Not ever again.” He examined her face. “And when did you tell me?” he demanded. “You never told me—“

She watched his expression change as he remembered something— the voicemail she’d left him, presumably. He was gaping at her, and she nodded smugly at him. “Uh huh. Yeah, now you remember.” She scoffed. “Well, too bad, so sad. I don’t care. I didn’t want to tell you anything, but I did. I gave you a chance to be in Theo’s life if you wanted to, and you said no. I don’t want child support, I don’t want you here, I don’t want anything to do with you. Just leave me be.”

“I didn’t know it was you!” He raised his voice. He never raised his voice. She forced her surprise down, however, putting on a thoroughly unimpressed air. “I thought someone had found my number somehow. I didn’t know it was you,” he was babbling. Then, he saw the expression on her face. “No, really!” he insisted. “It came from a number I didn’t recognize, your voice sounded different, you didn’t tell me your name— how was I supposed to know it was you?”

Lea groaned, raking a hand through her curls to push them away from her face. He stared at her, seemingly just as mesmerized by her as she was trying so very hard not to be by him. “I don’t care,” she informed him flatly. “I don’t care that you didn’t know. I don’t care that you wouldn’t have told me not to contact you again if you had known it was me. I. Don’t. Care. I don’t want anything from you. I don’t want your time and I definitely don’t want your money. Go away.”

This made Tim snort lightly, and he lifted his chin in the direction of the house she shared with Livvy. “So this is paid for entirely with you and Olivia’s salaries, huh?”

Lea bristled. “It was less than $210,000, Tim.”

“Right, yeah,” he nodded agreeably. “And how much of that are you having to pay off?”

She pursed her lips at him. “I don’t know exactly.”

“Uh huh.” He smirked, and she knew from his expression that before he’d even mentioned the house, he’d been fully cognizant of the fact that thanks to the money she and Livvy had saved up (most of it from the downright appalling sum of money he sent every month), they had put half of the total cost of the house as a down payment, which meant that they split the mortgage, each covering just over four hundred a month.

So their lives were a bit easier because of the money he gave Livvy. Big deal. It didn’t matter. He didn’t matter. 

That’s what she’d spent the last thirty-seven months telling herself. He didn’t matter. He was irrelevant.

Tim was looking at her still, and she fidgeted nervously under his gaze. “I divorced Crystal,” he told her finally.

Lea stared at him. “Congratulations,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

He didn’t look away from her, just took a step closer. She took one back, and he sighed. “I’m not… I’m not with anyone right now, either.”

Lea snorted, finding that very hard to believe. “Did your harem up and leave? How sad for you.”

He shook his head, taking another step towards her. She took two back, and his lips set into a firm line. “No,” he said softly, “I told the other girls that there was someone I wanted that I had lost, and I wanted her more than I wanted anyone else.”

Tears filled her eyes again, and she shook her head firmly, backing away further. “No,” she insisted. “Nope. Not… not listening to this. I’m not.”

“Lea,” he breathed, sounding very miserable indeed, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I hurt you. I didn’t mean to hurt you. Hurting you was the last thing I wanted. I never wanted to leave you alone when you were pregnant. If I had known…” he trailed off, watching her cover her face with her hands so he wouldn’t see her crying. “If I had known, I would’ve been there.”

“I didn’t want you there,” Lea snapped through her tears. “I don’t want you here now, either.”

“I know,” he told her gently, placatingly, “but I’m here and I’m not going anywhere. Never again. I never forgot you, y’know.” He reached out to brush his fingertips against the pendant she wore. “I’m glad you didn’t forget me, either.”

As soon as she felt the necklace shift under his touch, however, her hands fell from her face and she backed away further, until she was standing against the side of the house. Tim followed after her, his steps slow, almost hesitant.

She was shaking her head emphatically at him, but still, he kept speaking. “I could get a lawyer and take you to court,” he pointed out. “I could have a judge order a paternity test so I could sue for custody to see my son, but I don’t want to do that.”

“You’re not taking him from me,” she growled, glaring fiercely up at him as he came to a stop in front of her.

“That’s not what I want,” Tim told her again.

She was terrified—petrified, really—to ask, but she had to. “What do you want?”

Her palms were flat against the bricks of the house, and he reached out to take one of her hands in his. She knew what he was up to, though, and hastily shoved her hands behind her back. With him so close, she felt that tingling she knew so well between her thighs, but she steadfastly ignored it.

Tim sighed in frustration, leaning one shoulder against the wall. “You,” he murmured, looking down at her with hooded eyes. “I’ve always wanted you. I can’t let you go again.”

The bastard was damned and determined to rip her to shreds all over again, wasn’t he?

“I’m not getting back with you,” she snapped. “I’m not subjecting Theo to whatever… disgusting lifestyle you have in mind. I’m not doing it.”

“I don’t think you’re picturing what I’m picturing, sweetheart,” he told her. “Besides, you really think I’m letting you get away from me a second time?” Tim asked incredulously. “You are mine. I am never, never, letting you go. If you try to disappear on me again, I’ll find you. I’ve found you and I’m not giving you up again. Start thinking about what kind of dress you wanna wear, because I’m not letting you refuse me.”

“Are you crazy?” Lea demanded, continuing to disregard the desire pooling in her stomach, in her panties. “While you’re still fucking other girls? You’re— you’re married, for fuck’s sake!”

He shook his head, grinning down at her. “One, no, I’m divorced, remember? And two, if I wasn’t, you’d still let me have you and we both know it. Three, if you do try to get away from me, I don’t care. It doesn’t matter. I spent three years aching for you, and I’m not spending another fucking second without you next to me. I won’t do it. You’re mine, you’ve always been mine, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

“I am not—“

He leaned closer, cutting her off before she’d even finished her sentence. “If I told you to get on your knees and let me fuck your mouth right here and now, you would. If I told you to get in my car and let me take you somewhere I can remind you who owns you, you would. You wouldn’t even question it. Don’t try and tell me otherwise. We both know it would be a lie.”

He fished around in his pocket, pulling a small ring box out. “What the hell is that?” Lea demanded shrilly.

He opened the box, pulled a ring out, snapped the box shut again, and shoved it back in his pocket. “Y’know,” he began quietly, “I told myself, ‘if I ever find Lea again, I’m going to give her a ring that shows her how much she means to me. How much I love her.’” He looked up at her, smiling softly as his gaze fixed upon her left hand. “I thought for awhile that nothing could possibly be good enough.” He took her shaking hand in his, holding it gently, and slid the ring on her finger.

It was silver, covered in diamonds, and had a large stone the same shade of cornflower blue as the necklace. 

She wasn’t sure why she hadn’t thought of it before, but she remembered what he’d said when he’d given it to her, that Zendaya had pulled some strings; a half-forgotten ad in a fashion magazine with Zendaya wearing what looked suspiciously like—

She didn’t know why it had never occurred to her that the large blue stone might be a sapphire. She truly had no idea. Maybe she hadn’t wanted to consider it.

He was watching her face, observing the expressions that crossed over it with rapt attention.

“What is this, Tim?” she breathed, staring at the ring with some strange mix of shock, awe, and horror, reaching up to touch the sapphire.

A sapphire the size of her thumb, what the fuck—

“It’s called the Serpenti Ocean Treasure necklace,” he informed her. “And this—“ he brushed his thumb over the ring he’d slid onto her finger— “is the matching ring.”

“I don’t understand,” she breathed shakily. “I— I don’t understand.”

“We’re getting married,” he informed her simply.

“No,” Lea said immediately. “No, we’re not. You can’t make me.”

“I could,” he corrected casually, “but I won’t have to. You’re mine. I’ll bet you haven’t even fucked anyone else, have you?”

She winced, looking away from him. It was true—why bother with anyone else? No one could compare to him, and she wasn’t exactly eager to bother with men a second time around—, but she hadn’t intended to tell him that.

He caged her in against the wall of the house. “You’re mine,” he repeated. “I don’t care if you’ve forgotten. You’re still mine, and I’ll take great pleasure in reminding you of that fact.”

The worst part of all this was, in Lea’s opinion, the fact that Tim knew her so goddamn well, even after all this time, because this meant that whatever he said about her thoughts and feelings was almost certainly true.

Which was why she was so irritated when he said, “I’ll bet you’re wet for me right now, thinking about how good I can give it to you.” She shifted from one foot to the other, rubbing her thighs together without thinking about it. He noticed, though. “God, you are, aren’t you? All you have to do is ask, angel. You know I’d give you anything you wanted.”

“All I want,” Lea began shakily, “is for you to leave me and my son alone.”

“First of all,” he started, “he’s my son, too. And second, that’s unfortunate, because that’s the only thing I’m not willing to give you.” She scoffed, looking off to the side. They were in the shadow of the house, the sunlight shining brightly around them. “But I don’t think you want that. Not really.”

She didn’t. She could admit that to herself, in her own mind. But she wasn’t about to say it out loud. She might want to give into him, but she knew—she knew—what being with him would do to her, and she couldn’t afford to go through it again. “He’s barely your son,” she informed him. “You were there for his conception and, like, a month of the pregnancy and that’s it.”

“You mean I was with you for a whole month while you were pregnant,” he began slowly, “and I didn’t even get to enjoy it properly?”

Lea rolled her eyes. “Boo hoo,” she whined mockingly, “poor Timmy, didn’t get to see one of his fifteen thousand girlfriends pregnant. Cry me a goddamn river.”

“Okay,” he decided with a frown, “let me explain something to you, because I don’t think you fully understand.” She raised an eyebrow at him expectantly, and he continued. “I don’t have any girlfriends. Once you left me, I realized I couldn’t see anyone else romantically. Not at all. I wanted you and no one else.”

“Don’t tell me you haven’t—“

“Oh, I’ve slept with other people since you, yeah,” he confirmed, “but I think of you the entire time. Every single time I’m with someone, I close my eyes and pretend she’s you.”

Lea shook her head firmly, but he cupped her cheek to hold her steady.

“I never stopped loving you, Lea,” he told her quietly as she looked up at him with wide eyes, “and now that I’ve found you again, I’m not letting you go. Not even if you want me to. I’m sorry. I love you too much to let you leave me again.”

Her lips parted, and Tim’s eyes flitted down to them. “I can’t,” she breathed, her tone almost apologetic. “I can’t watch you with other girls again. I can’t do it. It almost killed me last time.”

He smiled softly at her, stroking her cheek with his thumb. “So as long as I promise never to touch another woman outside of work, you’ll say yes?”

Lea shook her head, clenching her eyes shut. “No,” she told him. “Not even then. I’m sorry.”

He stepped back. “Why?” She opened her eyes, and he looked frustrated. Angry, even. “Why not? You still love me, I can see it in your eyes when you look at me. So why?”

She sighed, crossing an arm over herself to cup her elbow and lowering her gaze to his feet. “I believe that you would try,” she admitted. “I think you really would try to stick with just me.” Then the tears started again, and she wiped them away. “But you wouldn’t be able to for very long, Tim,” she sniffled. “I know you, and I know you’d really give it your best, but then you’ll be faced with the prospect of going back to your hotel room alone again, and you’ll give in because that’s how you are.” He started to interrupt her, but she rushed on. “And because you’re such an unfailingly good person, you’d come back home to me and Theo and tell me immediately, because I know you’d want to be honest with me, and I’d just—“ she cut herself off on a sob. “I’d fall apart. You'd rip me to shreds, and I have a kid now. I can’t afford to let you do that to me again.” A deep, shuddering breath. “The worst thing is, a concerningly large part of me wants to say yes, to follow you anywhere the way we used to talk about, but I can’t. I don’t get to have that. It’s not in the cards for me.”

Tim was silent for a few moments, listening to her soft sniffles. “Then get new cards.”

She blinked tearfully at him. “Wh— what?”

Stepping towards her again, he repeated, “Get new cards.” She stared at him in disbelief, so he took her hands in his, rubbing the sapphire in her ring with his thumb. “You’re worried about who I’m with? That’s fine. Come with me. You can come with me everywhere I go. You want me to take a few years off work so I can spend them with you and Theo, I will. You want me to come forward about being with you, I will.”

More tears slid down her cheeks, and when he reached up to brush them away, she closed her eyes, trying not to lean into his touch. “I couldn’t ask you to do that,” she breathed. “I don’t want you to put doing what you love on hold, and I know you value your privacy.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, “but I value you more.”

His hand was on her waist, his breath was on her lips, and she realized that she was going to give into him. He wanted her, maybe even loved her in his own way, and she was going to let him make her his again.

Lea had just started to lift her chin, a sure sign that yes, she wanted this, she wanted this desperately, but then the door opened, and she was promptly brought back to her senses.

Her head whipped around, and she immediately recognized the long skirts of her mother, Rosalie, who stepped out onto the concrete, Theo on her hip.

Rosalie only required one look at the pair of them for her to deduce what was happening. Before she could make any sort of remark, however, Theo asked brightly, “What’re you doing, Mama?”

Lea swallowed, and Tim stepped back from her. “Hey, sweetie,” she addressed her son shakily, holding her arms out for him. 

He went to her happily, immediately nestling against her. Rosalie’s gaze was fixed on Tim, however. “Lea,” she began without taking her eyes off him, “I don’t believe you’ve introduced me to our guest.”

She recognized it immediately when he switched into charm mode, because he cranked it all the way up. “Hi,” he exclaimed with a wide smile. “I’m Timothée. It’s so nice to meet you.” Instead of shaking her proffered hand, he took it in both of his. Rosalie pursed her lips, but Lea knew her mother well enough to recognize the smile she was fighting. “I’m an old friend of your daughter’s,” he explained.

Despite being nearly a foot shorter than he was, Rosalie still managed to look down her nose at him. “I have three daughters,” she pointed out. “Which one are you referring to?”

“Lea,” he said with a good-natured laugh. “I spoke with Lina briefly a few years ago, but I’m afraid I haven’t had the chance to meet Ari yet.”

Rosalie smiled a bit at that, clearly appreciating that he paid attention to Lea when she talked about her family. She must’ve known the second she saw Tim, but still, she took a moment to look between him and Theo before addressing Lea directly. “It’s him, isn’t it?”

Tim winced slightly.

Lea said nothing.

Rosalie nodded before turning back around. “Well,” she sighed, “if you want any cake, you’d better get inside before it’s gone.”

“Give me a few minutes with Theo here,” Lea said. “Tim, go spend some time with Cassie. She’s been asking for you all day.”

Rosalie turned back around. “Why would Cassie be asking for him?”

Lea glared at her mother wordlessly, motioning for Tim to follow her inside.

“You’re Cassie’s father, too, I take it?”

Lea watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed. “Um. Yes ma’am.”

Rosalie pursed her lips again, but didn’t voice her opinion. Lea was most grateful for this.

She stared after them as the door shut. Now for the daunting task of explaining to her two and a half year old that the man he’d just met was his father.

Joy.

Theo had handled it remarkably well. He was all excitement and bubbly energy, eager to get to know his daddy.

He’d marched right up to where Tim was standing in front of where Cassie sat, waiting patiently for her candles to be lit so she could eat her cake. Theo put his hands on his hips, looking very much like his mother, grandmother, and even his aunts, looked Tim in the eye, and demanded, “Are you my daddy?”

All chatter at the party stopped, save for the children who were too young to understand. Tim knelt down, getting on Theo’s level, and said, “Hello, Theo. It’s very nice to meet you. My name is Timothée.” Lea watched as Tim’s shoulders tensed in anticipation for their son’s reaction. “And yeah, I’m your daddy.”

Theo stared at his father for a few seconds before throwing his arms around him. “What took you so long?” he asked into Tim’s neck.

Tim’s arms circled around him, holding the little boy close. “I’m sorry, buddy. I’m here now.”

“You’re gonna stay?” Theo asked tearfully.

“Yeah,” Tim told him softly, lifting his gaze to meet Lea’s. “I’m not going anywhere.” He stood, holding Theo for the first time, and Lea looked away, tears in her eyes. She wasn’t sure if they were from joy, sorrow, or some fucked up blend of the two. Taking a deep breath, Tim addressed the room. “Um… hi, everyone. For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Timothée.”

He was met with wordless stares. 

Gulping, he went on, “I just found out that Theo is my son, which is very exciting.” He paused. More silence. “And I’m also thrilled to announce that now that I’ve found the love of my life again, we’re engaged.”

Lea forced out an awkward, nervous laugh. “He’s joking,” she assured the gawking crowd of guests. “He’s not Theo’s father, and we are absolutely not engaged. It’s a misunderstanding.”

“What’s endaged?” Theo asked cheerfully.

“It’s when someone is gonna marry someone else,” Tim informed him with a smile.

“You’re gonna be married?” the little boy clarified, his eyes wide.

“I am.”

“Who?” Theo demanded.

Tim gestured to Lea.

“Mama?!” their son exclaimed.

“No, honey,” Lea interrupted gently, even as Tim nodded. “He’s being silly.”

Theo’s eyes filled with tears. “You’re not marrying Daddy?”

At this point, Lea’s sisters appeared to have heard enough. All the Blanchard women had a tendency to be fiercely protective of each other. It was therefore no surprise whatsoever that both her quiet older sister, Lina, as well as her carefree younger sister, Ari, stepped forward to examine the interaction between father and son, their eyes narrowed suspiciously in a way resembling Lea—even Rosalie—so closely that Timothée was downright astonished at how similar their mannerisms were.

Ari opened her mouth to say something, but Livvy spoke first. “Okay,” she said cheerfully, “everybody outside! Cake and presents in a bit!”

“But why?” Cassie whined.

“Because you want to play in the princess carriage,” Livvy informed her daughter helpfully.

“I want to play after I have cake,” Cassie corrected.

“All your friends want to play in the princess carriage,” her mother said, leading her outside by the hand. The other parents took the hint, leading their grumbling children out the door until Lea and found herself alone with Tim, who was still holding their son.

He looked like he was about to cry. “Why won’t you marry daddy?” he asked, his lower lip wobbling pitifully.

“Daddy used to be my… special friend,” she said delicately.

Tim snorted. 

She glared at him.

“Are you special friends now?”

Lea moved into the living room, collapsing on the couch in exhaustion. Tim followed her, watching her expression closely. “No, baby,” she told him softly. “No, we’re not.”

Theo considered this. “Why not?”

“I don’t think your mama wants to be special friends with Daddy anymore,” Tim explained, sitting down across from Lea.

Their son frowned outright now. “Why not?” he repeated. “Did you used to kiss like other mommies and daddies?”

Lea winced, but Tim answered on her behalf. “We did.”

“The daddies at school tell the mommies they love them,” Theo pointed out. “Do you tell Mama you love her?

“I haven’t seen your mama in a long time,” he said slowly, “but yes, I told her before you were born, and I told her when I saw her again.”

Theo crossed his arms, pouting at his mother. “Then why won’t you marry Daddy?”

Tim answered for her again. “She doesn’t believe me.”

“Would you lie to Mama?” Theo demanded, angry on his mother’s behalf.

“No,” his father said simply, fixing his gaze on Lea. “I’d never lie to her. It’s okay that she doesn’t believe me, though. I’ll tell her I love her until she does. She’s going to marry me anyway.”

“You’re delusional,” she snapped.

Her tone made Theo decide to jump down from Tim’s lap and run over to her, clutching the skirt of her dress. “Mama,” he started, but then the front door opened.

Livvy came in, carrying a duffel bag Lea knew all too well. She shoved it into Lea’s arms, grabbing her keys and wallet from her purse. “Here,” her traitorous friend panted, “it’s your stupid escape bag.”

“How did you—“

“I’m your best friend and roommate,” she snapped impatiently. “Theo, cover your ears.” He did so obediently, looking on with wide eyes. “This man,” Livvy started, pointing her finger at Tim, “has been in love with you for a very long time. He bought that ridiculous ring before you were even in the third trimester, and if you don’t spend some goddamn time with him, I swear I’ll change the fucking locks so you can’t get back in.” Lea clutched the duffel bag, staring up at her friend in shock. “I’m sick of hearing his mopey ass lovesick bullshit. Neither of you are moving on, so you’re going to go with him to whatever stupid rich boy hotel he’s staying at, and you’re not going to come back until Monday.”

“But Theo—“

“Theo will be fine,” Livvy insisted, crossing her arms. “Go talk this out like adults. Or fuck it out. I don’t care. Just deal with it.”

With that, she took Theo by the hand and led him outside.

Tim was silent and motionless for a few seconds before pulling out his phone and tapping away at it. “My driver will be here in a minute or two.”

Lea tensed. “I’m not going with you.” 

He arched an eyebrow at her, skepticism written all over his face. “Seems to me like you don’t have anywhere else to go.”

Lea rolled her eyes. “I could stay at my mom’s,” she ticked off a finger, “I could stay at Lina’s,” another finger, “or I could stay at Ari’s.” A third finger. “I’ll just tell Livvy I went with you and things didn’t work out and we’ll never, ever see each other again. Everybody wins.”

Tim stood slowly, walking towards her like she was going to book it at any second. “No,” he said flatly. She bristled, about to object, but he continued before she could speak. “No, that’s not what’s going to happen. You’re going to come back to my hotel with me. We’re going to talk about this. We’re going to decide on how long of an engagement we want, and then we’re going to start planning the move.”

“The move?!” she sputtered furiously. “I have a life here, you jackass, you can’t just uproot it—“

He frowned. “You told me when we first met that your dream was to design costumes for Broadway. Is that still true?”

Lea tensed.

“I thought so,” he said with a single nod. “I can get you that job, you realize. Very, very easily. All I’d have to do is make a phone call.”

“I don’t need your stupid nepotism—“

Tim rolled his eyes. “Why not?” he asked. “You deserve everything you want, and what I want is to be the one to give it to you.”

“I don’t—“

He knelt down in front of her, taking her hands in his, and her words were cut off the second she felt the warmth of his skin, his large hands holding hers. “Think about it,” he begged. “Just— just think about it for a second, okay?” He searched her face, his eyes flitting between both of hers. “Whatever kind of childhood you want Theo to have, I can give him. Whatever life you want for yourself, I can give you. You wanna travel? I'll take you anywhere you want. You want Theo to attend the best private schools in the world? He’ll attend the best private schools in the world. You want a job? You can have any job you want. You never want to work another day in your life? That sounds fucking fantastic, I’d get to keep you in my bed all the goddamn time—“

Lea bristled at the mention of their history, what she’d wanted three years ago.

“Just tell me what you want, sweetheart. Ask me for the world and it’s yours.”

She lowered her gaze to where his hands clasped hers in her lap. “Tim…”

“Come with me, mon amour,” he begged. “Come with me. Let me show you how good we can have it. Let me remind you what we were meant for. Please, baby.”

Her lower lip wobbled, and a tear slipped from her eye. “I can’t,” she breathed. “I wish— I wish I could. God, do I wish I could.”

“I’m not letting you go again,” he reminded her, his voice firm and gentle at the same time. “I’m asking you because I love you and I want you to choose to come with me, but even if you don’t agree, you’re coming with me anyway.”

She rolled her eyes, another tear sliding down her cheek. “You’re so goddamn controlling—“

“Yep,” he agreed happily, “I’m very controlling when it comes to you. But I know you, and you think it’s hot, so.”

Lea pursed her lips, scrunching up her nose at him with a glare. “I do not,” she insisted firmly, steadfastly ignoring the ever-present desire she felt whenever he was near. He just did that to her. It was fine. He’d always done that to her.

“You do,” he said with that stupidly overconfident smirk of his. “You very much do. I’m not oblivious to the effect I have on you, y’know.”

Lea looked away, blushing bright red.

“Fucking hell, you’re adorable,” he muttered. Then, shaking his head as if to dispel thoughts of her apparent adorableness from his mind, he decided, “Okay, time to go,” and pulled her to her feet.

“What?” Lea squeaked, lurching away from him. “No, I most certainly am not going with you!”

He groaned in frustration, putting his hands on his hips. “Lea,” he began with what was very obviously forced patience, “do you want our son to see his father carry his mother to the car kicking and screaming? Because it sounds to me like that’s what you’re going for here.”

She blanched, mentally weighing her options. After a tense beat of silence, she sighed. “Fine.”

Tim reached over to wrap an arm around her waist, but she backed away from him with a scowl.

“I do not want to stay with you until Monday,” she griped.

“Why not?” he asked with a pout. “It’s Wednesday, so we’ll get lots of time together.”

“Yes,” Lea said slowly, as if he were a child who didn’t understand something she’d just told him, “that’s largely why I’m so against this.”

He hummed, taking the duffel back from her despite her protests. “Hush, I’m carrying it,” he brushed her off with a dismissive wave of his hand. “And anyway, you want to know what I think?”

She very much did not, actually, but he didn’t give her the chance to say so.

“I think,” he continued as he strolled towards the door, “that you’re fully aware of the fact that you’re going to say yes. I think you’re fully aware of the fact that in…” He furrowed his brows in thought. “Two hours or less, I’m thinking? Yeah, that sounds about right. In two hours or less, you’re going to be begging me to touch you. You know this, and it both scares and embarrasses you. It’s okay, though,” he reassured with a grin. “You know you never have to be embarrassed with me.”

She wanted to point out that he’d said that three years ago, and therefore it no longer applied. Her body was… it was different than when he’d seen it last. It had changed with her pregnancy. She had stretch marks in places she didn’t before. It didn’t matter, though. She had no intention of getting involved with him again. Sure, he’d fuck her, but it would be in more ways than one, and she couldn’t deal with any of them.

The party was going on in front of the house, and only Livvy seemed to notice the pair heading towards the ridiculously fancy, ridiculously shiny black car. She grinned, and Lea flipped her off. Livvy outright laughed at that.

Tim opened the door for her, and she slid in, holding her purse firmly in her lap. He popped open the trunk, closed it again, and slid in next to her with a bright smile. “Mr. Chalamet,” his driver—a burly man with a bushy mustache—greeted before meeting Lea’s eyes in the rear view mirror. “Ma’am.”

“Hello,” she greeted awkwardly, buckling herself in.

“Lea, meet Jerry,” Tim said cheerfully. “Jerry, meet my fiancée, Lea.”

Lea swatted his arm, hissing, “I am not—“

He grinned indulgently at her. “Whatever you say.”

She glared at him, but he just nodded at Jerry, who started the engine and raised the partition. She didn’t even know cars that weren’t limos could have partitions.

She heard him tapping on his phone. “Who are you texting?” she demanded. He insisted she come with him and he was gonna text on the drive over?

“My mom,” he told her, sounding very pleased with himself indeed. “I’m thinking a house here, one in New York, and one in LA. What do you think? Do you want more than that, or is that good?”

She stared at him, gaping. “Wh— what?”

Tim paused, lifting his gaze to hers. “Well,” he said slowly, “we’ll need a house. Definitely more than one, since I travel so much and I don’t intend to let you stay at home all the time. We never got to travel as much as I wanted.”

“You took me to Greece on a private jet,” she reminded him, her voice flat.

“Ah, yes,” he recalled with a smile, leaning back against his seat. “I remember. You were so loud that the flight attendants wouldn’t look directly at us when we disembarked—“

“Timothée!” she gasped, horrified.

He shrugged, continuing to text. “Well you were!” 

“I don’t like to remember those things,” Lea snapped sharply, staring out the window and watching the houses pass by as they moved closer to downtown.

“Why not?” he asked softly, sadly. “I think about them almost constantly. For a long time, those memories were all I had left of you.”

“I had plenty to remember you by,” she pointed out, leaning her forehead against the tinted glass of the window. “If I could’ve erased the memories, erased all connection to you, believe me, I would’ve.”

He was silent for a moment. “Even Theo?”

“No,” Lea told him quietly. Then, a bit louder, “I’d definitely erase his genetic ties to his sperm donor, however.”

“You can say Dad,” he reminded her, sounding dejected. “I’m… I’m his dad. I want to be his dad.”

She closed her eyes, fighting back the tears that stung behind her eyelids. “I know, Tim,” she whispered, barely loud enough for him to hear her. “I know.”

When they rolled to a stop in front of what she surmised was his hotel, he rushed to open the door for her, insisting on carrying her duffel bag again, as well. She rolled his eyes at his pointless attempts at chivalry. 

Her feelings about the whole situation changed very quickly upon looking up and seeing the hotel he was staying at, however. She looked up at it, and there it was: a tall building covered in blue windows. He held out a hand to her, and she was so shocked by what she was seeing that she reverted back to her long-gone habit of putting her hand in his and letting him lead her anywhere he liked.

He was wearing sunglasses and a hoodie, the way he often did when he didn’t want to be noticed. They walked to the hotel entrance, and looking up at him now, with the late afternoon sun glinting off his sunglasses and his hair blowing slightly in the summer breeze, it occurred to her that he was even sexier at twenty-nine than he’d been at twenty-six, which was saying something because she used to joke that he could impregnate someone from a look alone. Turns out it required a bit more than that, but y’know. You live and you learn.

“Tim,” she said quietly, and he looked down at her with a smile. 

She pulled her hand away, and his face fell a bit, but he still looked hopeful. Like a puppy, almost. Ugh.

“What, uh…” She gulped nervously as they stepped inside the ridiculously swanky hotel. “What hotel is this, exactly?”

He thought for a second, pushing his sunglasses up onto his head. “Ritz-Carlton, I think. Why?”

Her head was spinning. “This is a really fancy hotel,” she pointed out weakly.

He shrugged, walking towards the elevator with the long, confident strides of someone who did not feel at all out of place.

They rode the elevator, and he rocked back and forth on his feet. Lea fidgeted with her hair anxiously. At the very top floor, there were three sets of doors, all very far apart from one another. Tim hummed a tune she didn’t recognize as he fished in his back pocket for his wallet and before locating the keycard necessary to open the carved double doors.

When she stepped inside, her heart stopped.

Patterned marble tile in the entryway, a study to her right, a bathroom to her left, and in front of her… in front of her was a large archway, and what looked to be a living room. A large sectional sofa occupied a good chunk of the space, and a crystal chandelier hung from the vaulted ceiling. There was a TV, as well as several large floor-length windows, it looked like. She stepped inside hesitantly, feeling unsure of herself despite the ginormous-ass sapphires she was wearing.

“This…” She gulped. “This is your hotel room?”

“Yeah,” he confirmed cheerfully, then paused. “Why, do you not like it? We can get a different one—“

Lea shook her head. “No, there’s no need to… to do that. It’s just… it’s a lot. I guess I kinda forgot that you just… live like this.”

His smile widened. “Now you can again, too.”

She blushed at the implication that they were back together and examined her feet. “So, um… where’s my room?”

A suite that huge must have more than one room, right?

He ran off to their right briefly before returning without his hoodie, sunglasses, or her duffel bag. Lea blinked at him, and he was beaming down at her. He was just so goddamn happy.

“C’mon, I’ll show you around,” he said with a grin. “Office through there,” he declared, pointing to the right of the entryway. Then he pointed to the left. “Bathroom is there.” He took her hand then, and she found herself following him again. “This is the living room, obviously,” he said, gesturing around them before pointing directly ahead. “Balconies have some cool views of the city, but there are no chairs or anything.”

She stared up at him in disbelief. “Sorry— balconies?”

“Yeah,” Tim confirmed casually, sounding mildly impatient to get on with things, leading her left. “Bar,” he pointed out as he passed a wet bar pressed against the wall. “Though knowing you, you probably still don’t drink, huh? That’s fine. I am definitely having a cigarette with something later, though.”

Lea couldn’t really blame him for that. It had been a pretty stressful day, and all he’d signed up for was his daughter’s third birthday party.

“Dining room,” he said as they neared a large table that sat under a proportionately large chandelier. He strolled through a doorway, pulling her after him. “Kitchen,” he declared with a wave towards a small but fully equipped kitchen. Actually, she couldn’t very well call it small, really, because it was approximately the same size as her own kitchen.

“And, uh…” She gulped, though she wasn’t entirely sure why, exactly. “What about my room?”

Tim nodded, smiling over his shoulder at her, mischief dancing in his eyes, and her heart pounded in her chest.

He led her across the living room, past the TV, and through a set of French doors. Directly ahead of her were two sliding doors that met in the middle, leading down a hallway lined with shelves. She gathered from the clothes he had hanging up that it was a closet, but wasn’t this supposed to be her room? Maybe it was a shared closet. Surely that’s what it was. It had to be; he’d put her duffel bag in there. 

On the other side of the closet, there was a chair sitting in front of a vanity table, it looked like. Closer to her, however, directly to her left, there was an archway through which she caught sight of what looked like an exceptionally large bathtub. 

“That’s the main bathroom,” Tim explained when he saw her looking at it. “It has two of everything: two toilets, two sinks, two showers. Only one bathtub, though.” He glanced down at her briefly. “Not that I mind, of course.”

Memories of the last time she’d ridden him in the bath flashed behind her eyelids with every blink— water splashing, him licking droplets of it off her breasts before capturing a nipple between his lips and sucking, him moaning her name, her moaning his, begging him for more, god, Tim—

She shook her head slightly, and he smirked as if he knew exactly what memory she’d been visiting.

Tim gestured to an archway directly across from the one leading to the bathroom. “This is the bedroom.”

The bedroom. Not your bedroom. Not my bedroom. The bedroom.

Heart thudding insistently against her ribcage, Lea tucked her hair behind her ears. “So… where do we, like.” She laughed awkwardly. “Where do we sleep?”

He frowned at her. “In the bed…?”

She’d been afraid of this. Pursing her lips, she grabbed her duffel bag.

“Where are you going?” Tim asked, sounding a bit concerned. 

“To change. None of these rooms have any real doors,” she pointed out, heading off in the direction of the half-bath in the entryway.

“Oh,” he said. “There's sliding doors and stuff…” His voice was a bit hesitant when he called after her.

“I’d prefer something with a lock.”

With that, she locked herself in the small bathroom. Actually, in retrospect, this “tiny” half-bath in her ex-boyfriend’s unnecessarily large hotel suite was approximately the same size as her own bathroom, and she had the master, for god’s sake. Ugh.

Either way, she changed into her most modest nightgown, choosing to leave her bra on.

There was a blanket in her duffle bag that she had every intention of wrapping around her so he couldn’t see her in her nightgown. It wasn’t even that immodest, really. It reached just above her knees, showed no cleavage whatsoever, and had a cute ruffle at the bottom. Plus, she’d gotten it on clearance at Target. The issue was that it was partially see-through. This meant he’d be able to see her panties and bra through the thin white linen, which was… unacceptable, quite frankly. Hence, blanket.

But still, her makeup. Especially that lipstain and mascara, ho boy. She needed some kind of remover before she went to sleep or she’d break out like she was thirteen all over again. 

“Tim,” she called once she’d fished through her entire duffel bag. By the time she stuck her head out of the bathroom door to call for him again, he was standing right outside, looking entirely too pleased that she’d called for him. Lea fought the urge to roll her eyes. He was so transparent. “I don’t suppose you have any makeup remover?”

He furrowed his brows, considering this before nodding and running off again. When he returned,

It was with a bag of cotton balls and a small bottle of what was likely very expensive makeup remover. She took one look at it and decided immediately that she’d use it very sparingly. It felt… wrong to use his things when they weren’t together, weren’t even friends. The more expensive the thing in question, the more wrong it felt.

“Do you need anything else?” Tim asked eagerly.

“No thank you,” she told him politely, smiling tightly and shutting the door again. She heard him sigh once the lock clicked into place, and it was a good thirty seconds before he walked off again.

By the time Lea finished removing her makeup, she had decided that she had long since earned a nap. She liked to be cocooned in when she slept, and since she couldn’t very well sleep in his bed, the shorter side of the sectional would do perfectly. She had to curl her legs up slightly in order to lay down, but once she’d covered herself in her fuzzy blanket and lay her head on one of the throw pillows, she sighed with contentment.

Yeah, she was essentially in hell. In fact, despite being agnostic and therefore thoroughly undecided on the concept of an afterlife, Lea wasn’t entirely sure she hadn’t died and promptly descended into an eternity of being around her ridiculously attractive ex-boyfriend that she was very much still in love with but not allowed to have for her own sanity and the well-being of her child. In any case, if hell existed, this exact scenario was likely hers. 

However, despite that, she was comfortable. She was warm, she was cozy. Maybe it was her exhaustion, but even her bra wasn’t bothering her. She’d just started to drift off to sleep when a voice startled her.

“Lea?” Tim asked, sounding concerned. “Shit, sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you, but what’re you doing out here? The bed is way softer, and the pillows are just the way you like them. It even has curtains around it to block out light.”

She was so tired. So very, very tired. And sleeping in a bed that smelled like Tim after so long? Forget hell, that sounded like heaven.

“You don’t have to sleep here, sweetheart,” he told her gently. “Will you let me carry you to bed?”

Lea’s eyes were half-closed, but she nodded at him, too sleepy to remember why agreeing was a bad idea. “Mhm,” she hummed, smiling softly at him.

He smiled back at her, gently pulling the blanket from her body. She didn’t notice the way his breath hitched when he saw her nightgown riding up her thighs, or the way one of her breasts appeared to be falling out of her bra because she was laying on her side.

When he picked her up, cradling her to him, she nestled her head into his shirt, inhaling deeply with a contented smile. She was barely awake, and with him holding her like that, it was like the past three years hadn’t happened and he was carrying her to bed after a long day.

“Tim,” she signed happily.

“I’m here, baby,” he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to her hairline. “I’m here.”

He lay her down, pulling the covers up over her. She nestled in, then frowned when the underwire of her bra constricted against her ribcage, the straps digging into her shoulders. “Tim,” she complained lazily.

“Yeah?” he asked as he pulled the balcony curtains closed.

“Can you help me with my bra?”

He took a deep, shuddering breath. “Of course, angel.”

Lea turned over, and he reached beneath her nightgown to undo her bra expertly, sliding the straps from her shoulders. She pulled the offending garment the rest of the way off, flinging it across the room in annoyance. It landed on a couch that was up against the wall, and Tim stared at where he could now see the shadows of her nipples through the fabric of her nightgown, the way her breasts moved as she breathed, and he couldn’t help it. He stripped down to his boxers and got in next to her, pulling the curtains around the bed closed.

She immediately nestled in close to him, assuming the sudden weight on the mattress was Theo. “Did you have a nightmare, sweetie?” she asked, almost entirely asleep.

Tim cupped her cheek, tracing the lines of her face with gentle fingertips. “It’s me, Lea.”

She smiled softly, shifting closer to him. “Tim.”

“Yeah,” he breathed. “God, I missed this with you. I missed you so much, baby.”

Lea hummed, mumbling, “‘m here.” She yawned, burying her face in his neck. “Love you.”

He wrapped an arm around her, pulling her as close to him as she could possibly get. “I love you, too.”

Yeah this chapter is over 11k don’t worry about it

Tag list: @meetmyothersouls @ellamaianderson @shika1200 @blackqueenstarseed1 @gatoenlaciudad @esmaada @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @softhecreator @timolaurence @timmymyluv @oddlyenoughiamweird @leecrunchybones @s-we-e-t-t-ea @almostg @vampire-reanimator

To be added, please ask 💗

[ofviolentdeath]

Characters: Devin and Lissa Word Count: 625 TW: Mild violence

-----

Devin had never wanted to be responsible for anyone the way he was his sister. He'd never wanted kids and, while Lissa was definitely not his kid, he still felt like he had to parent her after their parents passed. After all, she was all he had left and dammit, he wasn't about to lose her too.

Truth be told, he was fucking exhausted. The constant fighting and worry, the recent move, the stress of it all, it had him sick to his stomach.

And there was Lissa. Out galavanting around with some guy when they needed to be laying low while Devin worked out a better living arrangement for them. Needless to say, he wasn't thrilled when she slipped into their makeshift home, trying to be as quiet as possible.

It wasn't as bad as her brother made things seem. Sure, she hadn't been home in two days, but that didn't mean she had fallen back into her worst patterns. Hell, she was only a little hungover and that had been only alcohol instead of her usual vices of any drug she could get her fingers on.

She didn't understand what Devin's issue with her new boyfriend even was. Especially given her brother's taste included a friend of hers at one point.

It was beginning to make her absolutely stir-crazy and if he kept pushing, she was going to hit him. Not that it would do much since he never swung back and that was equally unsatisfying.

She had been trying to get in and to her room without his notice, but she should have known better. He was leaning against the wall, eyes dark with anger and concern and all she could do was sigh and try to prepare for the fight that was sure to follow.

"Where the hell were you, Liss?"

"None of your goddamn business, Dev," she shot back, rising to the challenge in his tone with her own stubborn refusal to back down.

"It is my goddamn business when you fucking disappear for two days!" he snapped, pushing away from the wall and taking a step towards her, checking her over for any visible signs of injury.

"I'm an adult and you're not my fucking dad!"

It was a low blow, but she had used it enough times since the loss of their parents that it didn't really phase Devin anymore. It had hurt the first few times she had thrown it in his face.

"Thank god for that because I can see why some animals eat their fucking young."

The argument was familiar, the same lines thrown back and forth a dozen or more times at this point. If there wasn't so much tension in the room, it would have been almost funny.

"Oh go fuck yourself, you miserable fucking dick," she growled as she pushed past him, intent on making her way to her room.

Devin grabbed for her arm, trying to stop her. He hadn't anticipated her turning and swinging on him.

The punch connected and Devin stumbled, his grip tightening on her wrist for a second to keep his balance. It wasn't the first time she had reacted like that but it was the first time she had done it sober.

"For fucks sake, Alissa! What the fuck?!"

"Let go before I fucking do it again!"

"FINE!" he yelled, dropping her wrist and holding his hands up. "If you're going to take off for more than a goddamn day with whatever shady fucking prick you're playing bedwarmer for, at least have the goddamn decency to let me know you're fucking alive."

"Go to hell, Devin," was her parting remark as she walked away, leaving him to rub the blooming bruise starting to color his jaw.

[fictosapphic]

can't sleep because my brain is bombarding me with ideas for petunia's mental world. let me jot some down

themed after a dead mall from the 80s. lots of eerie liminal space vibes and vaporwave music

raz and otto go in together at petunia's request-- raz has been through enough as is but he's still adamant about helping so petunia's like "at least bring someone along so you're not doing this alone"

mental petunia is looking for parts of her trombone so she can perform again after years of not doing so. backstory there is that she used to be a band kid along with her girlfriend magnolia but after the breakup she stopped playing

you may be asking why she's performing at a dead mall. well when i was in high school the local dying mall invited music programs from the school district to do performances at the mall, probably to get more foot traffic and keep it from dying. that mall is demolished now but anyways!

ahem. anyway. psychonauts usually does things in threes so i'm thinking they have to search for three parts- main body, inner slide, and outer slide, and then for the boss they have to find the mouthpiece- more on that later

raz and otto have to platform through a few different locations for petunia's trombone parts and then the usual "mental world enemies spawn and you can't progress until they're all defeated" thing happens. it's a bit like an escort mission but otto actually helps with combat and stuff

when the two are just kind of roaming the mall outside the stores, they see flashbacks of significant parts of petunia's life that she keeps dwelling on. mostly her dad leaving and her girlfriend/longtime best friend magnolia dumping her. there are some good rosy memories intertwined with a lot of bad stuff, but they tend to fade to static rather quickly

once they've found three of the trombone parts, they come to an empty department store at the end of the mall and the mouthpiece is just kind of There. they find it and are about to give the full trombone to petunia... but then a second petunia shows up and begs them not to? and they're like fuck who's the real one here. and then petunia 1 (fake petunia) turns really low poly and steals the trombone and impales petunia 2 (actual petunia) with the slide. actual petunia falls over and starts "bleeding" some weird goop that's patterned like tv static, and the static goop then encompasses fake petunia and turns her into some kind of horrifying abomination (still working the specifics of her design out) and then boom! boss fight

after the boss fight, fake petunia (who was a manifestation of petunias self loathing) fades to static and actual petunia regains consciousness and is like "whuh..." and the boys have to play it cool like they didn't just see her get stabbed and "bleed" out.

once she gets it together a little more the three of them exit the mall and end up in a little sunset beach area. petunia has a heart to heart with otto about how she's afraid to lose him and also about how she wishes her psychic abilities were strong enough to help him in times of need. otto assures her that he's "in it for the long haul" and also admits that he's been trying to replicate the same psychic enhancing technology that's on his pendant for her. so at that point they all exit her mental world and otto tinkers with petunia's belt buckle (it was originally gonna be a ring but belt buckle fits better with her design + i am enjoying the idea of a visual gag where otto gets down on one knee to work on the belt buckle and petunia thinks he's proposing)

there's a really fancy marble statue of otto with the body of a greek god somewhere in this mall as an allegory for how she puts people she trusts on pedestals

thats all i got so far dsdkdkdl oh my god i need to sleep GOODNIGHT