#but it's here now and i'm really proud of this!

[bluespring864]

Help, the man is GLOWING. His whole face lights up the moment he says "Andy Murray"!

"I realised that the perfect coach for me at this point would be someone who has been through the experiences that I'm going through... uh... possibly a multiple Grand Slam winner, former No. 1." He will never miss out on a chance to list Andy's accolades. We get it Novak, you're proud of him.

"A discussion appeared on the table with me and my team." Well. Who could have possibly made the discussion appear on the table. Could it be the guy who can't stop talking about it in this video.

"Okay. I'm going to give him a call and see how it goes." Nervous Novak hehe.

"It caught him a little bit off guard as well, he wasn't expecting it." Translation: Andy probably told him he was insane at first, lmao.

"We connected really fast." Is that what we're calling it these days.

"He accepted it after a few days." Andy making him wait for a bit. Perfect.

"I can't be more excited about it." Yes we can see that.

"This collaboration is a surprise to me as well..." You just said that you approached him about it though?! Ah, I see. You didn't think Andy would accept. Oh, Nole.

"It's exciting for tennis." Yeah it is. But now you're just trying to distract from how completely smitten you came across here.

"So I can't wait to get out on the court and prepare for next season." How to find motivation when you've already won everything, according to Novak Djokovic: turn your homoerotic rivalry into a presumably equally homoerotic coaching relationship. This is going to be funnnnn.

source: @SkySportsTennis on Twitter, found here

[padfootfest]

Padfoot Fest 2024 Reveals

Hello everyone!

The time everyone has been waiting for has come. It's been a week since our last Padfoot Fest work was posted which means we can now reveal all the authors, so everyone can run to show more love for their other works.

As mods, we would like to sincerely thank all the participants. We are immensely grateful to them for creating a great variety of fics, all celebrating our beloved Sirius Black. We love the works, and we are so so proud of everyone's efforts. We are so thankful for all these works that contribute to the amazing thing that is the Marauders fandom.

Moreover, this was the first year of our fest, and we are overwhelmed with the interest it has garnered. We would like to thank everyone who keeps following, reblogging, commenting and so on. We also can't wait to introduce more events in the following months that will help us shorten the time we've got to wait until the second year of Padfoot Fest opens in 2025. So stay tuned and keep sharing the Padfoot love.

Now without further ado these are the amazing writers from Padfoot Fest 2024 in the order of their posted work. Click the title of the fic to read their works.

tenrousei_kuroi - Is It So Frightening (to have me at your shoulder) (Regulus Black/Sirius Black, Regulus Black/Remus Lupin, Regulus Black & Hermione Granger)

LippSkinn - Silence (Sirius Black/Remus Lupin)

shadowmun - Hero with no name (Sirius Black/Evan Rosier)

Soulniar - Freres, Pour Toujours (Regulus Black & Sirius Black)

LadyofWiltshire - I Really Don't Know Love At All (Sirius Black/Remus Lupin)

dystopianRebel - Soulmates by Arrangement (Sirius Black/Rabastan Lestrange, one-sided James Potter/Lily Evans, Catriona McCormick/James Potter, Peter Pettigrew/OFC)

RockOnGoldDustW - Kiss With A Fist (Sirius Black/Hermione Granger, Sirius Black/OFC)

EastWindmlk - two for divine, three for magic (James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Sirius Black/James Potter/Lily Evans Potter)

sliebman10 - A Flicker Of Hope (Sirius Black & Minerva McGonagall)

emlovessid - two paper airplanes (Sirius Black/Remus Lupin

veganbutterchicken - Where There Is Love, There Is Faith (Sirius Black/Remus Lupin)

Grey_Kenaz - A Prank Gone Awry (Alphard Black & Sirius Black, Regulus Black & Sirius Black, Sirius Black & James Potter, Sirius Black & Walburga Black, Orion Black & Sirius Black)

MidnightStargazer - An Omen of Death (Regulus Black & Sirius Black)

FivePips - Call it Pathetic or Poetic (Sirius Black/Remus Lupin)

procrastinator123 - Grim Hunt (Sirius Black/Kingsley Shacklebolt)

HuntersWithCellPhones - I would not ask and neither would you (Regulus Black & Sirius Black, Regulus Black/Barty Crouch Jr.)

EuripidesTrousers - The Road to Sweetwater (Sirius Black/Remus Lupin)

maraudersaffair - Lucky for You (Sirius Black/Bill Weasley)

EllieMarchetti - A Ghost from the Past (Sirius Black/Hermione Granger)

onehundredflamingos - always yours (Sirius Black/James Potter)

atropos_aeneas - just being neighbourly (Sirius Black/Remus LupinSirius Black & Remus Lupin)

youprettythings - I'm Waiting Here For You (Sirius Black/Remus Lupin)

andthemarauders - Halloween 1981 (Sirius Black/OFC, James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Remus Lupin/OFC)

RockOnGoldDustW - Nowhere to Run (Sirius Black & Andromeda Black Tonks, Regulus Black & Sirius Black)

goldenpropeth - everywhere (i want to be with you) (Sirius Black/Remus Lupin, Sirius Black & Hope Lupin, Sirius Black & Lyall Lupin)

Strawberrybasil - Seeking Omens (Sirius Black & Harry Potter)

[piratecaptainscaptainpirates]

Alright so MY opinion for the most interesting way Stede and Izzy's interactions in s2e5 could've gone

Now personally I'm glad they didn't do anything that could be read as flirty, not only because I don't think that makes sense for Stede but also because I just don't think that would've scanned coherently with how Stede has just got back together with the love of his life and all. BUT I do also agree that once Izzy is chill his personality becomes a very bland vaguely hostile sort of swear-y guy that everyone's strongest feelings about are kinda like "ehhh I guess he's chill now??"

So here's what I think. Izzy should've tried to be First Mate Izzy to Stede, applying that sort of weird intensity to Stede's way of doing piracy.

I just think there's a lot of comedic potential there. Izzy starts encouraging Stede to find more Stede-y outfits (because that is what Captain Stede Does and if there's one thing Izzy will do it's form a very strict and narrow perception of his captain's behavior), perfect way to segue into the cursed suit plotline. He's visibly uncomfortable about Stede's sense of style still but you can see him internally reminding himself that He's Chill Now. He gets really intense about Stede's leadership style. When the crew are scared of the suit, he's stomping around going "HEY! Fucking TALK it THROUGH!" Maybe Olu expresses a real geniune emotion about how he misses Zheng and you can see Izzy sweating before he gives the most awkward little "good. I'm. proud. of you. for not bottling it up???" and it actually makes Olu feel better. He sees Ed across the deck doing something fruity such as using a hairbrush as a microphone to sing a song to himself as he works and you can see the homophobia struggling to resurface but he has a comedic flashback to Stede telling him something very basic like "don't be an asshole" as he takes notes and then Izzy takes a deep breath and walks away to go scream in a broom closet or something

[kittenwriter]

Cure narratives: when fiction depicts a disability being cured. Because no one on the internet has nuance, it wound up getting overwhelmingly presented as "you should never depict curing disabilities because that's ableist." This rested on the fact that for neurodivergence-type disabilities, "curing" the disability means fundamentally changing the person; you're born neurodivergent and it's an integral part of who you are. (And also this slides really, really easily into eugenics.)

But disability is a broad umbrella! Even with the social model of disability (and if you want a beautiful fictional examination of the social model, look up The Fledging of Az Gabrielson; the author thought through every detail of what it would mean to not have wings in a world where everyone has wings), chronic pain is disabling no matter how well society accommodates it. The vast majority of people with chronic pain would like to not have chronic pain.

There are also some things that exist on a spectrum. I'm not qualified to give an expansive discourse on Deaf culture, but there is a schism between the people who are culturally Deaf and see that as worth preserving and the oralists who lean into cochlear implants and seeking to eliminate it. (For that matter, while it's highly taboo to talk about it and I don't think it's common, neurodivergent people who want a cure do exist. I'm not going to get into all the complications and controversies of John Elder Robison because that's an essay in itself, but look at his book Switched On for something adjacent to that perspective.)

So you wind up with a lengthy set of discussions about what is and isn't acceptable to depict-- and it's a lot like every other diversity discussion in that market-level generalizations wind up getting held against individual authors. It's a problem if every depiction of disability shows cures (and then you get the related things like the "not really blind" trope where you have characters who are supposedly blind but magic or technology allows them to function as though they weren't with no problems)-- but that got turned into (because no one on the internet has nuance) "you should never depict cures and if you do you're ableist," which in turn sparked backlash from the people for whom the cure narrative is wish fulfillment. (I have myself joked about being a Bad Disabled because my own desires as regards cure do not align with the "You must be proud of your ENTIRE DISABILITY" narrative.)

There's also the fact that even among the wish-fulfillment people, sometimes you want to read about someone who is suffering what you're suffering the way you're suffering it without it being magically cured at the end! Or what's desired is fantasy assistance devices that function like actual assistance devices in that they have drawbacks and trade-offs and assist without making the character functionally not disabled.

So I feel like the people in anon's fandoms probably got into the "it is ableist to depict cures" thing with the same level of nuance typical of People On The Internet (which is to say, none) and then mangled it even farther. There's probably also some influence here from a related conversation, that of using fantasy substitutes instead of giving your character real-life actual disabilities, but again, that's a spectrum and depends a lot on how well you do it, and I see it happening more frequently with people wanting to write Stereotype Neurodivergence without considering whether it has any resemblance to actual neurodivergence than I see it with physical disabilities. (See also Sheldon Cooper.)

So now that we've gotten to the end of my essay (this is probably a bit more than you thought you were getting when you asked the question), further reading if you're still so inclined:

"The Trope of Curing Disability" at Disability in Kid Lit

"Disability Tropes 101: The Magical Cure" at Dis(abled) Embodiment

Brilliant Imperfection by Eli Clare

The Disability Visibility Project

"The Complexities of Curing Disabilities" by Emily Ladeau

And finally, a bunch of people having a conversation on Reddit.

(And now we have proved once again that you can take the girl out of the library but you can't take the librarian out of the girl.)

Tagging question! In canon, a character has a magic-induced health problem. Basically, every so often, he has days moving his back in any way causes staggering amounts of pain and he has severe fatigue. He can't get upright under his own power during severe episodes. Painkillers do not work. The frequency of episodes starts off once every few months but by this point in canon has become a once or twice a week problem. It can hit right out of nowhere even if he was fine all day today or he can wake up with it.

Fandom wank being what it is, people keep insisting to me that this is not a disability. I tagged the fic with Disabled Character because since he's the main character of the fic and this... look, I'm not disabled? I could be wrong. But to me this feels like a disability. If I met someone with this IRL with a non-magical cause I would go, "I 100% believe this qualifies as a disability" without question. But oh, wow. The fandom does NOT agree with me on this. I've gotten several annoyed remarks by people informing me that this is belittling the pain actual disabled people have because disabilities, unlike curses, can't be lifted. And I can see that there's a difference. Thing is, he can't canonically afford to pay to have the curse lifted. He's stuck with it.

Because every single person in this conversation is abled, though, I feel like they're not who I should be listening to. OTNF, I know your readership includes disabled people. Do you/they have any suggestions? Does he qualify as disabled, or am I too attached to my headcanon-y idea of him as being a metaphor for disability?

--

I don't think that's a metaphor. I think that's a canonically (magically) disabled character.

What say you, readers?

[astrofhobia]

I tried to help you.

We were never brothers. Pretending our relationship worked was what ended it. You never cared about me, I was aware of that to a certain extent. I pretended to care about you even if you knew better.

You got angry because of that, no, you didn't get angry because I pretended to care about you, you got angry because I wasn't honest with you, because I didn't tell you absolutely everything that was going on in my head.

Maybe things would have been different if they had treated you well, you were alone, trapped in someone else's mind, you felt pain but never showed it.

You were always very proud, Eclipse.

I tried to please you many times, staying extremely still in those analyzes that you did to me all the time. Until now I don't know why you made them. Was something wrong with me? Were you afraid Moon would take control? I guess you'll keep that secret until you actually die.

I was looking for a way to feed your ego and please you because it made me sad that you were alone without anyone congratulating your achievements. You always made me feel sorry for you. You can deceive yourself but you cannot deceive others. You were an artist deceiving others but you never knew how to continue with your lies and people came out of the threads you built around them. You tricked Moon and he tricked you, you tried to bully Sun and he bullied you. You killed me and I killed you.

Don't blame yourself. No one was really nice to you, no wonder you were so cold and empathetic towards me. Until Earth arrived.

She really changed your perception of people, right? You know, I love her, she's my sister. Nothing will make me hate her.

But I'm jealous of her.

She managed to get you out of your bubble without trying, it only took a few soft words for you to stop considering her a threat. You stopped seeing her as a hunting animal, you saw her as a friend.

I tried that many times. But the only thing I received was slaps and insults. You changed with others, but you never did with me.

That's my problem.

I tried to pretend that I didn't care about you. I regretted many times yelling at you, hitting you or disappointing you. I erased those feelings over and over again but they always came back.

I felt like you deserved a hug, a "I'm sorry" many times but I was never able to say it.

I was terrified that you would leave me. All those tests, I was so worried that you would leave me alone like they had left me... But my obsession with the star led me astray.

Maybe if I had been nice to you things would have been different. I mocked you when you betrayed me. But that really hurt me, my own creation stabbed me in the back.

I would have done it too if my creator abused me like that...

I'm not the Eclipse who treated you like that but I don't know how to talk to you without my larynx shutting down. I want to treat you better but our relationship is at the bottom of the sea and I don't know how to start a conversation without sinking further.

At the moment Earth appeared I was so hated by everyone, I was scared when she appeared, she didn't attack me, she didn't ignore me, she tried to be on good terms with me because she didn't know me. He knew what he had done, what he had done to you. But she still approached. She said I could have a second chance if I wanted.

I guess that's when I understood that I could improve.

I moved because I had done so much damage here that trying to walk near daycare or your family became extremely anxious and I hated that feeling.

When I got here I expected everyone to hate me. But apparently, this place is so different and the same at the same time. I feel at home but very far from there.

I try to start something new here, I want to get away from the problems but those problems are still there.

That's my problem.

But I still want to help you.

[littlemanthings]

Dear Fandom,

To say I am deeply disappointed in what this fandom has become is an understatement, but because I really don't want to start aggression by using vulgar language or to stress the VAs out anymore than they probably are; I'm going to try keep it at a certain level. But man, there are better ways to ask for a whole army to come after you with pitchforks like this was the fucking middle ages and without having all this damage being done.

And now we're losing a big part of this show because some people just had to cross the line over a hundred fucking times now. I'm so ever proud and impressed with Kat for dealing with this and for so long— and with three other jobs as well? All I can do is hope that she knows how important she and all the others who work with the shows is to us all.

I don't like getting personal, but if there is that small chance that any of them read this I just wanted to share this with you; about like two-three years ago I was very lonely, and my head space was not in the right place, but in that same year I also found the SAMS channel, and my heart kinda just made a nest there. Then Lunar and Earth started their own thing and things just felt better. For a while I really thought one of these years was going to be mark the end for me, but these characters, the writing, everything about it made me want to stay a little longer— just until I got to see how it ended, I would tell myself. And now I'm pretty sure I do want to be here long after the curtains fall.

So thank you, if I could say it a million times I would. Thank you for making Earth who she is. Thank you for representing the rest of us girls out there. Thank you for reigniting my love for writing. Thank you for unknowingly raising a young teenager who wants to live thanks to you and a lot of other people (you too Davis and Reed).

To clarify a few things; I am not in any way trying to convince Kat to not quit writing for the shows, I understand her decision and fully support it. I hope to god I didn't make things weird or project myself onto this situation, I really just wanted Kat to know she means a whole lot to us.

[passionwillow]

Brady Bunch

Thank you to the sweet anon that requested this! Domestic Deacon is my fave. ❤️ Enjoy!

Summary: You’ve been dating Deacon for a while, and you each have children of your own. He wants one big happy family.

"Honey, we're here!" Deacon's voice rang through your house, the patter of little feet and laughter following. A smile curled over your face, your daughter's squeal of excitement making you laugh as she ran down the hall, meeting Deacon's own kids with happy chatter.

You followed her down the hall into the kitchen, Deacon standing in your living room with his own smile. His soft blue sweater seemed to warm his brown eyes even more, and his dark jeans hugged his hips and thighs just right. He looked up and met your gaze, smile widening as he strode over and cupped your cheeks, pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

You'd been seeing Deacon for almost a year now. You met him on a case with the LAPD, and there was an instant connection between the both of you. His wife, Annie, had upped and left unexpectedly and he was still reeling from the loss when you met. Four kids to take care of, a job that took him away from home so often, he was struggling to say the least.

And you had your own daughter as well. Your ex boyfriend Anthony had left you well before you gave birth, and you were proud to say you raised Gabriella all on your own.

It wasn't long after you and Deacon started dating you introduced your kids, and Gabby fit right in with Deac's two sons Matthew and Samuel, and his daughters Lila and Victoria. He had been paying for a nanny to take care of the kids while he worked, but as you grew closer you happily babysat when your schedules lined up right.

It became routine at that point to meet at either his house or yours, the kids mingling and bonding, and you two having your own version of a date night. Deac was such a solid, steady presence in your life at this point, you weren't sure what you would do if he ever left. His steady reassurance and calm nature warmed your heart, and Gabby instantly adored him.

The way he treated your daughter sealed the deal with you. He never treated her any differently than his own kids, and was more than happy to participate in tea parties or games of hide and seek. And Gabby was instantly attached to his four little kids.

You pressed back with a happy hum, his hands sealing around your waist as he held you close. He pulled back and looked down at you with his warm brown eyes, his gaze looking over your own red sweater and jeans. "Is that my shirt?"

You glanced down at yourself with a grin and nodded, voice teasing as you took his hand and led him over to the couch. "It looked better on me." His chuckle followed you as you sat down on the couch, Deac glancing over his shoulder as the kids pulled out their toys from a basket in the corner. He sat down beside you and wrapped his arm around your shoulders, gently bringing you in closer.

You watched him with a smile as he watched the children play, his brown eyes warm and relaxed. More than you'd seen in a while, actually.

"They get along great, don't they? Like.. siblings." His words brought a tingle of happiness to your chest, and you nodded and leaned into him slightly, humming as the kids laughter filled the house. "They do. They really love each other."

Deac's hand rubbed your shoulder as he watched you, eyeing you carefully as he smiled and nodded. "It's a shame they don't get even more time together, y'know?" Your brows furrowed slightly as he studied him, his words seeming filled a double meaning. "Sure.. I'm sure they'd love that. What exactly are you getting at, babe?"

Deac cleared his throat and looked back to the children, hand moving to your hair and gently stroking it as he shifted closer, his voice softening as his gaze found yours. "What is we.. move in together? I could come here, or you move to my place, and... We make this a family. A real family."

Your eyes widened slightly at his words, your body going rigid as you slowly registered his words. You knew Deac had gotten over Annie, but after her sudden departure from his life, he'd always had a small wall up with you. A guard so he didn't get burned once more. But this.. This was a huge step, especially for him.

He sat up straighter and turned fully to face you, his brows furrowing as he watched you mull over his words. Waiting for you to refuse, or put up a wall and go quiet on him,

"You.. You really mean it? Move in and.. have a family together?" He relaxed as you finally spoke and smiled, nodding as he wrapped you up in his arms again. "Exactly. The kids adore one another and.. I adore you. I love you. And I'm ready to have you and Gabby in my life, completely."

Your eyes welled slightly at his soft words, and you didn't have to think twice before throwing your arms around his neck, hugging him tight. He laughed and happily hugged you tight, face nuzzling into your hair as he mumbled. "Is that a yes, sweetheart?" You laughed through your tears and nodded quickly, your face nuzzled into his neck as you choked out your words. "A million times yes, David."

He grinned and kissed your forehead, looking at you with the happiest expression you'd ever seen on him. You leaned up and pressed your lips to his, mumbling. "I love you, Deac." He kissed back happily and cupped your cheeks gently in his hands, pulling back and whispering. "I love you too."

The moment was suddenly broke up by a squeal of laughter, both of you jumping and looking to the children as they ran through the room and down the hallway. You both relaxed and grinned as you watched the kids - your kids - tear through the house and fill it with joy. Deac chuckled to himself and looked at you, hand stroking your head again. "It's like our own Brady Bunch."

[icarusredwings]

After Logan was given a piece of the girls clothing, he gave a funny look to the officer.

"... did she own rabbits?"

"Awww bunnys!!" Wade coes, interrupting the conversation. He couldn't smell the scent, but he could tell just from the shirt alone that there was animal hair on it. White, slightly dark tipped.

The officer gave a scrunched up look. "About that... she IS a rabbit.."

"What?" Logan growls, about to rip this man a new one when a woman came to him with big watery eyes. "She's not a rabbit! She's a shifter! S-she just got her powers a couple of weeks ago a-and now my baby girl is lost in these woods!"

"So is she a rabbit or not? Because she sure as fuck smells like one."

"Dang Logan, She lost her daughter, it's not her fault." Wade whispers to him, knowing how frustrated he must be but he didn't want him snapping at the poor woman, whos shirt was already soaked (and starting to freeze) from tears, her hair was a mess, the bags under her eyes suggested that she hasn't rested since she's found out her child was missing, and her skirt was hand stitched, patched in some spots.

"Sir, I'm going to need you to calm down." The officer said.

"Don't tell him to calm down! There's a child missing, and so far, you've done jack shit!!" Wade pipes up, stepping forward and pointing a finger at his nose, actually touching it, only for his hand to be slapped away.

"We've tried tracking her down but..." he starts as the mother sobs into her apron.

"Buuuuttt??" The bald man in 2 different hats questioned, not ready to freeze his ass off for this, but he would want someone to do this if his daughter was missing.

Oh.. those were the days. Logan and him arguing over parenting choices, having dinner together, sleeping soundly at night knowing their family was happy and healthy. But now they were empty nesters.

Heh. That must have been the best 20 years of Wade's life. The only good thing about this is that his daughter having his genetics, so she could stay 16 forever if she really wanted too. Each time she died she regenerated back into that mouthy little girl, though it was odd to watch a 25 year old woman turn into a 16 year old again, especially when remembering that she's 21+ by now.

'No way, young lady, you can't drink your underage!!'

'Dad, i'm 25...'

Man... they grew up so fast.. And they were so proud of all of them. Even the adopted ones along the way like that little rascal Leo who apprently was doing quite well for himself now that he was all grown up. Poor guy ended up having a hairy back and a mane so large that it almost mirrored Sabertooths... so much for being a 'late bloomer'

The sweet thoughts go away when the man gestures to three dead rabbits next to them on the side of the road. "The dogs keep going after our suspects.."

"Woah, Hold on a second. You're having a problem with your highly trained shepherd dog's prey drive so you got THE WOLVERINE?? That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard and I once googled if I could put a fork in my toaster because half my toaster strudel fell out instead of just unplugging it!" He shouts, arms going up. "Who's in charge of this operation!?"

"You didn't find that out before agreeing to come!?" Logan growls at him only for Wade to roll his eyes. "Oh, calm your knot, Jacob. I didn't know our helpless little girl was actually a single rabbit lost in a forest wonderland!"

Logans brows furrow with that 'Who the fuck is Jacob?' Look, his face showing more confusion then anger now.

"Alright. So here's what we're gonna do." Wade starts.

"Yeah, No. You already ruined your chances at this, it's my turn. You litsen to me, now!" He says, making Wade's hands go up. "Ooh~ Yes sir."

"Shut up!"

"Ok-"

"I'm taking this. I need a coms, give me a couple of hours and a med kit. The kid might be injured, so I might have to fix'em up before carrying them back here. They'll be weak, so maybe some food too. What does she like? Actually, never mind, get me the file." Grabbing the clothing, he decided it would be better to

"OOh fuck- I'm so wet right now." Wade mutters under his breath, getting a 'what the fuck' glance from the officer.

____

By the time Logan collected all that he needed to leave, Wade (of course) was strapped.

"I told you not to bring those. If anything, the gun powder will scare her, and she'll run off." Logan muttered.

"You never know when you'll need to shoot something, Loagie. Besides, I have flares too. And the snacks." He says, opening the bag as they walked, rummaging through it. "Why is there so much deer jerky in here?"

"I like deer jerky." He grumbles, slightly annoyed as the air was pricking his nose.

"I know that but is that the only thing they packed?? Aren't rabbits herbivores?" He says, still looking with a frown. Maybe he should have taken Ro up on that soup...

Not to mention, while he had one idiot in his ear, he had another in the other one.

'Logan, you should be coming up to where-'

"Yeah, yeah, I know. I can smell it." Glancing over, he saw that the puddle of blood from the other rabbit half way already covered with a new layer of pure white.

Squinting, he breathed slowly and smelled deep.

"There's a storm coming.." he says over the mic.

'We know, that's why this is so important.'

"Wait a second, you sent kurt out here KNOWING there was a storm rolling in!? And then you dragged me out here knowing damn well I've never stepped foot in these woods!?"

'He volunteered, and we called you first. You just refused to pick up. And yes you have, you have a cabin somewhere out here.'

"No I don't!"

'Other Logan did.' Scott mutters.

"How many times to I have to fucking tell you that I don't have his memories!? You sent me into unknow-"

His nose twitches, stopping as he got a whiff.

"Oh, he's got something. Whatcha smell boy? Show me!" Wade coes, giggling a bit as he pats his knees, causing Logan to growl, blushing, embarrassed at the puppy talk.

Walking off, he changes direction, leaving the premade path of boot tracks and paw prints.

'What are you doing? Stay on the path!... Logan? Logan! Now is not the time to go all lone wolf! Loga-'

The Wolverine gives a snarl of annoyance, trying to both pinpoint and smell with the nagging in his ear. Taking the head set off and turned, dropping it in Wade's hands, who made a 'Oooh!' Sound, putting it on instead with a big smirk.

"Hiya! You're on air with us at red and yellow radio station! What's your question caller?"

'What? Wade! Give it back to Logan! If he goes off track, we won't be able to-'

"Aht, i'm gonna have to cut you off, caller, This is our mission, our gig. Don't worry, I won't lose the big guy. Right now, he's looking at a tree. And now hes sniffing. Oh now he's glaring at me, and now hes-"

"Wade!! Hush!"

"Sorry caller, gotta go-"

'Wade? Deadpool? Wade!! Don't you dare go rouge! Wade!!!'

Thinking about old Worst Wolverine being called by each of the X men individually after they have a falling out because Logan injured a child very badly to the point the only reason they didn't die is because another classmates healing abilities all while he just... walked away.

Well- ran.. away... leaving a child to die. He's tried to explain thousands of times that he blacked out, that he didn't remember doing any of this. He tries to say that maybe it was someone else, that mystique did this shit all the time in his universe.

"Yeah, well!? This isn't your universe! Because the REAL Logan would never do this.." Scott screams at him as Logan leaves the Mansion for the last time. He doesn't come back. He didn't even get to tell his Xkits goodbye. It got to the point where Laura dropped out, taking Gabby with her, wanting nothing to do with the school anymore.

So now, here he is. In Maine, an old fisherman, part-time hunter, and the only people he lets around him have healing factors.

He lives with Wade, who still- by the way- doesn't have any grey hairs (maybe because hes bald but- yk)

One night, while Logan is out, making himself feel useful by feeding the small town they're in, providing for more poor families, feeding their children's hungry mouths and asking nothing in return but respect. (It gets to the point that the children cheer when they see Logan, wanting to hug him, but he growls at them to get off, too afraid of hurting them) Wade finally awnsers the ringing phone.

"What." There's vemon in his tone, but soon his eyes widden, and he frowns.

Walking outside he stands there a moment, knowing Logan can hear him.

He ignores him, looking at the fish, litsening, his breathing slowing as he skewers some with his claws. Its not exactly spear fishing but- close.

"What?" His voice is almost annoyed, as if knowing what his long time Husband was about to ask him.

"Logan.."

"No."

"Logan-"

He shakes his head. "Don't care."

"...She's missing."

He pauses, turning after scraping the dead fish into a bucket. "Who's missing?"

"There's a little girl missing."

"So?"

"Logan!"

"I'm not helping them, Wade. That's final." He growls.

For a moment, Wade frowns, but he didn't learn to obey thy husband like the bible said.

He never did.

"Logan, there's a 6 year old out there. All alone. Cold. Probably going to be eaten by wolves!" He shouts from the back porch, knowing his place enough to stay here and not come near his fish. Even after all these years, Logan was still finicky over his food. "And all because some old fart won't help her!"

The silence thickened as Logan thought about it, the hero side of his brain yelling 'We'll find her!' And the hurt old part of him saying 'That's not my buisness.'

".. You find her then." He compromises.

"I can't! And if anyone knows those Canadian woods, it's you! You said you knew those forests like the back of your hand!" Wade protests. "If I could smell someone through miles of freezing snow, I would. But I can't. So here I am, asking The Wolverine to go do what he does best."

He grunts, glaring. "And that is?"

"Helping a little girl get back to her mommy..." Wade says, knowing that he was sold. He knew he was sold the moment he told him to do it himself. "She doesn't have much time, Logan." He sighs, putting a cherry on top.

The greyed man huffed, grumbling under his breath for a moment. "Who will stay here with the dog?"

"Gabby can! She loves gabs." Gott'em.

"What about Laura? Why can't she find her?"

Shit.

"Logan, Laura has barley been in those woods. You've lived in them for years. So. What will it be. Pull up your panties and go save a little girls life? Or do it anyway when our baby girl gets lost too?"

Logan scoffs, disappointed. "..She wouldn't get lost.."

"She would if the scent kept being blown away.."

Wade adds, seeing the 'god damn it, he's right.' look on the old mans brow.

He lets out a large sigh. "...I don't want any help."

"Oh well too fucking bad bucko, I'm gonna go pack my snow suit!"

"No! I mean... I don’t want any help from THEM.."

"No promises. I'm not letting poor Susie die just because you have a grudge. Now put your fish in the freezer and lets go! They're coming to pick us up-"

"I ain't flying!!" Logan snarls, watching as his lover ran off, having a deep feeling that he would be in the air shortly..

[draco-dormiens]

FOR ALL THAT IS RIGHT AND JUST - Flashback

auror!draco x auror!fem!slytherin reader / post-war au

warnings: strong language, angst, implied mental struggles, negative self deprecation, alcohol use, mild descriptions of wounds

wc: 2162

tags: @yeolsbubbles @send-me-styles @shinytalent @malfoylover4l

tag list open!!

masterlist

Draco's Story

Late July, 1998

"I've decided, Dray." Your voice is soft but laced with determination. He sits beside you, on the roof of his parents mansion, the window to his room just below your dangling feet, a cool night breeze licking his skin as the July heat still lingers in the air. "I'm going to become an Auror. After everything I've seen, after uncle Travers..." you pause for a long moment, staring up into the dark navy sky, dotted with glimmering white specs where, thousands and thousands of lightyears away, stars burn; big, bright, dazzling orbs, "I can't let it happen again. I can't allow other children to go through what we have, what you have. Even if it just a small change, I want to help make it."

He's silent for while. The bottle of Fire Whiskey you'd both been sipping on rests just between his knees. Bringing it to his lips, he takes a long drink before setting it back down. There are bruises on his knuckles, cuts on his arms, a nice gash to his forehead from where he'd managed to make contact with the floor outside of the Room of Requirement. If not for the boy he'd spent the last seven years envying with a seething jealousy, he would no doubt be dead. He owed Harry and his friends his life, and that, although a cold hard fact, did not settle well in the young Malfoy's stomach. He was bitter, scarred, and lost. Where did he go from here? All he had come to know, everything his parents had made him believe, was nothing but blind faith and complete ignorance.

Once a bully, preying on the weak and snarling insults at those he deemed lesser. Once a boy of great talent and expectations. Once the seeker for his house. Then a Death Eater, a coward and no better than those who tore the school to pieces.

He was no better, and he was no one. Not anymore; but he feels now, despite his prejudice over the years, that he wasn't really anyone to begin with. When the mark, that now is nothing but an ugly scar on his milky skin, was first placed upon his arm, he really had believed he was to be granted power and protection. All he had to do to bring his family glory was follow instructions. He thought he wanted this. He thought he was doing his parents proud. When he realised his misjudgment, it was far too late to change his mind.

Draco tried to murder. He tried to - but as much as he told himself it was his duty, the small flicker of who he really wanted to be started to burn a little brighter, a little hotter, until he smothered the flame and hexed Katie Bell and cast an unforgivable curse on Madame Rosmerta. Until he was face to face with his one mission, just to fail at the very last second and become the laughing stock of a group of rotten-minded wizards.

He can still hear you - sometimes in his sleep, sometimes when he wakes in the night.

"Please, just tell me what's wrong, Dray." You cried in the hallway that night, his wand tight in his grip. The sound of a happy, joyful Slug Club Christmas party was well underway further down the corridor. You, in your stunning emerald dress and diamond earrings he had gifted you the other year for your birthday, had begged him to confide in you multiple times. Daphne had written him off, Blaise and Theo told you he had changed and wasn't coming back. Pansy had a small amount of faith left, but it was fading quickly. Your sixth year was already turning out to be a monstrosity, and now the boy you would have called your very best friend had changed; he wasn't Draco anymore, he was colder, more bitter and worryingly paler. Albeit, his personality wasn't the warmest nore the most endearing to begin with, but since your childhood he had been a constant in your life.

And now he was anything but that.

"I've already told you," he says, lifeless and empty, "I don't want you getting caught up in anything. Just go back to the party, alright?"

"Why are you shutting me out?" You almost whimper, and the white knuckle grip on his wand only gets tighter, threatening to snap the wood in half. He hates this. He hates it.

But he must do it. To protect what he cares for.

"Please," he mutters helplessly, turning his head slightly to look over his shoulder at you. He fears if he looks at you fully, he might crumble into a million little pieces, "I'm trying to protect you. Let me at least do that. Please. Go back inside."

"Draco?" Your voices brings him out of his daze, his eyes landing on yours. A kindness had dwelled within them since you were children; a kindness that, even after all he's done, still shines through and touches his skin like warm sun. He stares back for a long while, not fully understanding why you still came to visit him. More than two months since the war ended, since his family faced trial after trial and escaped with their dignity hanging by a mere thread. He hadn't heard from the others; Blaise, Pansy, Goyle. Not that he particularly cared. It appeared they would have rather saved what reputation they had left than mingle with fellow betrayers like himself.

He can't say he blames them.

"Are you okay?" you ask him, brushing some of his white-blond hair from his face, "you can talk to me, you know. I'm here for you."

"Why?" he simply asks, and you almost look surprised at the question.

"Because you're still you, Dray," you whisper, a ghost of a smile at your lips, "many things have happened. I know now why you couldn't talk to me about... well, everything. But you can now, and I'm here to listen. Please, don't try and battle this on your own."

The warm summer air ruffles the hair around your familiar, comforting face. He thinks that someone up there might not think so bad of him, to keep you coming back even when he's troubled you more than anyone else. A slight smile cracks on his face, something you hadn't seen in many, many months. The sight of it almost brought you to tears.

"You know," he says quietly, "I'd have kicked my sorry ass to the curb if I were you. I haven't exactly been kind to you; or anyone, over the last few months. I've done some really fucked up shit. Yet, here you are, drinking my Dad's Fire Whiskey on the roof with me." He shuffles a little closer to you and wraps an arm around your shoulders, as you willingly accept his embrace, cuddling into his warm and familiar body. You liked to believe he was still in there, the real Draco. The one that sometimes, unknowingly, allowed you to see little glimpses into his life. He's a collector of sorts; not like his father, but in a more sentimental and valuable way. Many a time have you caught him putting a rather nice looking pebble in his pocket, thinking no one had seen him take a shine to such a trivial thing. He enjoys the piano, and although he never plays for anyone, you had caught him mid song one summer during a visit to his home. You can still hear him scold you for sneaking up on him and making you swear not to tell anyone. He reads - not your typical story books or novels, but educational books about Astrology and Alchemy. Sometimes, when you had met in the library, he'd been so invested in a book, his eyebrows pierced together and a look of pure concentration on his face, that he hadn't noticed you standing beside him until you nudged him slightly. Another scolding, but something about the way he grumbled that he was 'just passing the time because you took so long' had you convinced there was no malice in it whatsoever.

Draco never had a heart of gold. He was never a shining example of friendship, or the best at expressing his feelings, or had the best attitude towards things he found unbefitting of him. Throughout the years you had argued about his mean streak, about his nature towards certain students, but as if joined at the hip, you had remained close, and his brashness was ever so slightly tamer with you. His words weren't as sharp, or as jarring, and he often made a point of saying 'if you go, I will' or 'as long as you think so.' Despite his blooming admiration for you, he still remained a little hesitant to treat you completely different.

And he was still in there. You were sure of it. He was in there - the Draco you had come to love.

"I wouldn't be a very good friend if I did that, would I?" you say lightheartedly, and you feel him squeeze you a little tighter, "you will get passed this Draco. You will heal; inside and out, and you will go out into the world and make a good name for yourself. You will make yourself proud - it doesn't matter about anyone else. Just do what's right for you."

He ponders for a moment, stroking your hair gently, calming himself as he leans his chin on the top of your head. The world made no sense; his place in it seemed none existent, but as if a small glimmer of hope had pierced his heart, he starts imagining the future.

"Do you think they'd have me?" He then asks you, and you pull back slightly to look up at him.

"Who?" You say.

"The Aurors," he then responds, matter of fact, "do you think they'd... accept someone like me."

"You want to be an Auror?" You say excitedly, and his heart, for the first time in a very long time, begins to feel lighter at the look on your face. All this time and you're still the prettiest girl he'd ever laid his eyes on. He shrugs and looks away.

"I dunno, I was just thinking out loud," he said, fingers still playing with the ends of your hair. Then he laughs, a shallow and bitter laugh, "like they'd want me. Imagine me showing up to help someone - they'd asked for someone else. It'd be fucking joke."

"It might not be," you say in all seriousness, "why does it have to be like that? As much as you may think things are set in stone, they are not, Draco. You decide how the future goes. You decide what happens from now on. If it starts that way then change their minds. Your past does not define you. It's what you do, how you learn, that does."

"Sure you don't want to be a therapist or something?" He jokes lightly, and you giggle. Draco truly believes that something holy keeps you around a mess like him. Once Voldemort's threat was over, you were the first person at his door. The first and only person to check on him. A ray of light in the deep, dark hole he was falling into.

"I've made up my mind," your giggle comes to a holt, and you look at him with a sheer determination sparkling in your eyes, "it's time for you to do the same, Dray."

The reception he received was nothing short of foul. Minister Shacklebolt treated him the same as any other new recruit, but his fellow Auror's did not feel so welcoming. He mainly stuck by you throughout the training phase, and kept his distance from Potter and Weasley. There were whispers, odd looks and uneasy feelings, but with your guidance, he found himself at the Ministry. After the first year, he had become accustomed to people's shock once they saw him, and even more so from how tolerable he can be when he wanted. Sometimes he even made little jokes about it, and your heart soared at the difference in him. The higher ups soon discovered his talents and willingness, and his career, much like your own, began to blossom.

So, when you barge into Potter's office ten years later, raging about the travesty in the foyer, he thanks Merlin, Salazar and anyone who'll listen when you grace him with that same presence he finds himself missing like a limb when you're not around. An Auror in his own right, a gifted and talented wizard who's knowledge in Occlumency had boded well in his profession, a better man, but still the same whiny, mischievous Malfoy he's always been. He may be a dashingly handsome young man, but his childish ways, short temper and bad attitude never quite left him - and yet he's your heart and solace all the same.

Harry may have saved his life, but without a shadow of a doubt, you saved his soul.

disclaimer: i do not own harry potter or any of the characters or storyline associated with it

[twopoppies]

Oh good I didn't know if I was too bitchy about the bus girls. Like Gina, I don't mean to hijack your shit here but I am afraid for the world right now for the first real time in my life. The things that are happening frighten me, they're dystopian. They feel unreal and impossible and they are neither. What the fuck is going to happen I can't say but I am dreading it. I'm only in my 30s and I'm scared!

And like, I can still access that Mean Girl I was until maybe.....24? 25? That's when I started to get over myself. I'm not proud. Sometimes I still catch myself having smartass ugly thoughts as my first reaction and I have to remind myself to choose to be a better person in the moment. I know what it's like to be the judgmental bus girl. Spoiler: it's shitty. It's not edgy, it's not cool, it doesn't make you better than other people. Shitting on someone else or someone's work or making it the butt of the joke is a very low bar anybody can clear. It doesn't make you clever, it really just makes you unpleasant. People will realize you can't be trusted with their secrets and private joys because you can't be, you're probably gonna be snarky about them for a cheap laugh. You will not know real intimacy romantic or otherwise until someone believes they can trust you. Grow up. Make a modicum of effort to be a good person and learn how to talk about shit that makes things better and good and kind and happy. I'm guessing they're fans of Harry or Louis? I'm gonna use Harry here: Harry would hate that you said that shit about fic. He would hate you. Listen to the words he says, he has pleaded with his audiences to choose kindness because "the world needs it." Is it calculated? Maybe. But maybe he has seen a lot of shit and he means it. I'm gonna choose to believe him on this. Building things up is so much harder than tearing things down but I promise you I don't miss being a Mean Girl. I'm amazed I always had friends but they would have seen through me one day like I started to see through myself.

Sorry I'm really annoyed about these bus girls right now. And full disclosure, I'm sorry I too used to think fic was lame because I didn't know what the fuck I was talking about and someone should have said something even meaner to me to shut me up. I would have deserved it.

And obviously you don't have to post this I just wanted to say it to someone and like, own up and also express that I'm annoyed on behalf of all fandom creators. Fucking bus girls, shut up.

Not only am I posting it, I want to give you a hug because I fully appreciate your bus girl rant.

In reference to this and this

[fairiedance]

Some pins from my fundraising shop:

As always EVERYTHING I EARN from my shop is for my best friend, a Palestinian grad student living in America. The money is sent home to support his friends and family in Palestine and around the rest of the Levant who are being hurt directly and/or financially by the attacks on Gaza, the raids and economic devastation in the West Bank and the collateral damage in surrounding countries.

I haven't posted about how he's doing in a while so here is a brief update if anyone was wondering. He's been quite miserable (more than usual even) since the escalation into Lebanon, he has family there too, but he's hanging in there. They're safe for now and we really hope the ceasefire in a couple hours actually happens and lasts. He also got injured not long after the escalation which really messed up his usual coping mechanisms (running/going to the gym), but he's recovering well now and we're at least lifting weights again. Despite the stress he's still doing impressive things with his research, and working crazy hours at it. He's supervising and mentoring several younger students on top of his own work and doing an amazing job of keeping it together for them, I'm so proud of him. He's the strongest and nicest person I've ever met and I know he's going to do amazing things with his life.

Anyway, you can find all my art in my shop HERE. There are a lot of other product options besides pins as well (shirts, stickers, notebooks, bags, etc). To see a design on different products click on the display product and scroll down or go here to browse by design. Here is a sample of my stuff on other products:

Thank you to everyone who has helped out so far! We greatly appreciate all the support and we hope you are enjoying your purchases.

[reveryfics]

Would you be up for writing for topher Grace Eddie brock?

I'll Follow You

Pairings: Eddie Brock (Topher Grace) x Male reader

Summary: After Peter exposes Eddie for publishing a fake and edited photo of Spiderman, you personally vow to do anything you can to help him.

A/n: I'm really hoping this is what you had in mind, I've been racking my brain trying to figure out the best way to put it all together.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The newsroom of the Daily Bugle was abuzz with excitement. Eddie Brock, the star reporter, had just scored the scoop of the century: a photo of Spider-Man robbing a bank. The usually boisterous room was filled with congratulatory cheers and backslaps. Amidst the chaos, a young, wide-eyed reporter watched Eddie with a mix of awe and longing. He'd always admired Eddie's tenacity, his fearlessness, his ability to get the story no matter the cost.

As the celebration reached its peak, Eddie, ever the charmer, worked the room. He flashed a smile at him, a gesture that sent a shiver down the young reporter's spine. He'd always hoped for a chance to connect with his idol, to learn from him, to be like him. But as quickly as the smile appeared, it vanished, replaced by a cold, dismissive look.

Then, Peter Parker, the mild-mannered photographer, arrived. He presented irrefutable evidence that Eddie's photo was a fake, a clever manipulation of existing images. The room fell silent. The hero of the moment was now the villain of the hour. Eddie was fired on the spot, his reputation tarnished.

He felt a pang of pity for Eddie. He'd witnessed firsthand the depths of Eddie's ambition, his willingness to bend the truth to achieve his goals. But he also saw a man who was now broken, a man who needed help.

Later that day, he approached Eddie, offering his support and to take him for drinks to help clear his head. "I know this is tough, Eddie," he said. "But I'm here for you. Whatever you need, just let me know."

Eddie, however, was in no mood for sympathy. "Piss off," he growled. "I don't want your help."

But He was undeterred. He saw an opportunity, a chance to prove his loyalty, to earn Eddie's respect. He began sending texts, leaving voicemails, showing up at Eddie's apartment. In his mind, he was helping, guiding Eddie back to the path of redemption. But to Eddie, it felt like harassment, a constant, unwanted intrusion.

The line between admiration and obsession had blurred. He was convinced that he was doing the right thing, that he was the only one who could truly understand Eddie. But as the days turned into weeks, it became clear that his intentions, however pure, were causing more harm than good.

One day, as he was once again lurking outside Eddie's apartment, Eddie finally had enough. He stormed out, face flushed with anger. "If you want to help me so much," he yelled, "then leave me alone! Get lost! Never come back!"

The male was stunned. He couldn't believe that Eddie would reject his help, especially when he was so clearly struggling. He was convinced that Eddie was just too proud to admit that he needed help. In his mind, Eddie's outburst was just a cry for help, a desperate plea for someone to understand him. He told himself that he was that person Eddie needed.

[lettucing]

look of love, rush of blood

chapter three

words: ~8.8k | pairing: jschlatt x she/her afab reader

summary: With Schlatt and Ted's party now in full swing, you're drawn into a lively crowd of new faces- and taught more about one you're already familiar with.

notes: STRAP IN SCHLANNIES, IT'S A LONG ONE!!

1) the song mentioned during the balcony scene is meant to be no. 1 party anthem by arctic monkeys aka the song this fic was inspired by (go give it a listen if you're not familiar)!! there isn't really a 100% confirmed meaning behind the song, so i based it on my own interpretation & ones i've seen online in the past . 2) i went ham with some ramblings of adoration for new york bc i'd literally KILL to have a convo with schlatt about growing up here... so i hope u enjoy the lil peak into my new yawk mind... overall i find it super sweet and i'm pretty proud of how this chapter came out, i hope you enjoy :) !!!! <3

“So, what’s next?” Ted asks, glancing between you, Schlatt, and Joelle. A cheer erupts from down the hall, likely from the latest beer pong game. Schlatt shrugs, nodding toward the noise.

“Wanna play the next round?”

⭑

As the four of you make your way down the hallway into Schlatt’s living room, the air thrums with energy. Laughter, cheers, and the clink of plastic cups meld into a lively, chaotic symphony. At the center of it all stands the familiar grey folding table, where the current game of cup pong is clearly nearing its conclusion—just a few cups remain on each side. Schlatt steps forward, casually placing his phone on the edge of the table. “We’ve got next.” he announces, his tone easy as he gestures back towards where you were standing. One of the players glances up, meeting Schlatt’s gaze with a nod of acknowledgment before turning back to the game. Tension was high as the game came to a close, the team to the far end of the table sinking both of their final ping pong balls into the other team’s cups. The room erupts—half cheers, half groans—as the losers down the rest of the cups on the table. Ted steps between you and Joelle, walking closer to the table and clapping the winners on the back in congratulations.

Joelle flashes you a grin as she walks toward the table. After a round of quick hellos, she turns to you, giving a playful wave to draw you over. You smile awkwardly, realizing how comfortable Joelle is in this chaotic crowd. You wish you could be as easygoing, but it’s a challenge when everyone seems so... effortlessly at home. She gestures to you like a proud mother to the two vaguely-familiar men. This Y/N!” She faces you and Ted adds, “This is Charlie and Tucker, our other buddies staying at Schlatt’s for the week.” You glance at them with a smile, realizing you recognized them from the bar last week, though you hadn’t really taken them in until now. Both were shorter than Ted and Schlatt, with piercing blue eyes and dirty blonde hair. Charlie’s hair was messy and fluffy, one ear pierced, his gorgeous smile bright and inviting. Tucker had a classic short crew cut, with a solid build and muscle mass that was noticeable in the way he stood. He took a sip of his drink and nodded a casual hello.

Jesus, they were an attractive group of friends.

“It’s nice to meet you!” Charlie says, his smile warm and genuine. “Joelle was talking about you when we met. I remember seeing you chatting with Schlatt at the bar when we were heading out.” You manage a laugh, trying to hide your nervousness. “Yeah, I was taking a breather,” you reply, motioning toward Joelle. “This one makes me dance way too hard.”Joelle scoffs, but you notice the affectionate glint in her eyes. “Yeah, okay. I forced you to get out there and shake ass.” Her retort flusters you, and before you can respond, Schlatt’s voice booms from the opposite end of the table. “Hey, can we get this show on the road, please?”

Charlie pulls a face at you, his expression comical, as if to say ‘we were talking, but I guess I better move’. You smile, placing a hand on his shoulder. “We’ll come back to this later. It was great meeting you.” “Yeah totally, same here!” he replies with a grin, stepping away. Meanwhile, Ted and Tucker dap eachother up as Ted strides over to join Schlatt at their side of the table.

“Alright, ladies and germs!” Ted bellows, his deep voice cutting through the room. “We’ve got me and the big guy versus these two lovely ladies—Y/N and Joelle!” 

The room erupts in cheers, shouts of “Yeah, Schlatt!” and “Let's go!” echoing throughout the room. One voice rises above the commotion, cutting through the noise like a knife. “Schlatt, I hope you lose!” 

A collective ‘oooooooh’ ripples through the crowd like you were in grade school again, followed by laughter and scattered claps. You follow the voice to its source, a guy with shaggy black hair and a bright pink hoodie leaning casually against the wall near the couch on Schlatt and Ted’s side of the table. A smirk stretches across his face, one that practically screams that he knows exactly what he’s doing. Schlatt’s head snaps to his right, locking onto the man like a hawk. “Oh, fuck you, dude. You’re just mad that me n’ Astrid smoked you so bad last time you had to lock yourself in the bathroom for half an hour to ‘take a breather’.” The man straightens, now fully standing and visibly pissed off. “Uh, yeah, because you cheated, asshole!” Schlatt spins away from the table to fully face him, arms flung wide in exaggerated disbelief. His voice rises, drawing a new wave of laughter and hoots from the room. “How the fuck do you cheat at beer pong, dumbass?!”

Ted steps in with the practiced calm of someone who’s seen this exact scenario play out more times than he can count. He grips Schlatt’s shoulders with the firm strength of someone who knows how to handle a hothead. “Alright, alright.” he mutters, his voice like the calm in the eye of a storm. Schlatt grumbles but doesn’t resist, muttering a final insult under his breath before turning back to the table. As the scene plays out, a blonde girl lounging on the couch on your side rolls her eyes, leaning toward you with a knowing smile. “You guys are totally gonna destroy them.”

Joelle lights up, pointing at her with a grin. “Oh, I like this girl already.”

As the game kicks off, Ted and Schlatt waste no time, each sinking a shot with precision that draws a chorus of cheers. Groaning in defeat, you and Joelle lift your cups and take your drinks, the fizzy drink doing little to soften the sting of their early lead. From the other side of the table, Schlatt’s voice cuts through the noise, pointing a finger aimed squarely at the guy in the pink hoodie. “How’s that for losing, bitch?!” he shouts, his grin wide and triumphant, earning another round of laughter and hollers from the crowd.

 The more time you spent in the epicenter of the party, the more you noticed Schlatt’s shift in demeanor. It wasnt necessarily bad, just different- The way he’d spoken to you at the bar, or even how he’d just acted with you, Ted, and Joelle in the kitchen 20 minutes earlier, felt like a far cry from the boisterous, crowd-rousing host now commanding the room. The soft chuckles and understated gestures you’d grown familiar with were replaced by loud, triumphant cackles whenever he made a good play, and exaggerated mock-punches to the wall behind him whenever he fucked up. It was like watching a different side of him come alive, a version fueled by the energy of the crowd. You found yourself mesmerized, caught somewhere between amusement and intrigue. Schlatt seemed to feed off the energy in the room, thriving on the attention and laughter that followed his every move. He was magnetic in this setting, his booming voice and larger-than-life antics commanding the space effortlessly. And somehow, in the middle of all the chaos, his attention would occasionally flicker back to you—brief, fleeting glances that made your stomach flutter despite yourself.

Yet, even as he leaned into his role as the life of the party, you couldn’t help but wonder which version of him was closer to the real one—or if they both were, just in different contexts.

Before you even realized, the game was nearing its conclusion, and you were losing– you and Joelle’s one remaining cup facing Ted and Schlatt’s two. You glance at Joelle as she lines up for her second shot after missing the first, her tongue poking out slightly in concentration. With a flick of her wrist, the ball arcs perfectly into the cup, drawing groans from the other side of the table. Joelle erupts in triumph, fist-pumping the air. “Let’s go!” she shouts, and you cheer alongside her as the two of you high-five. Schlatt scoffs dramatically, shaking his head as he grabs the cup and chugs his half before passing the rest to Ted. “Unbelievable.” he mutters under his breath. Ted gestures grandly toward the remaining cups, his voice dripping with confidence. “And it all comes down to this, my loves.” he purrs, picking up his own drink from the floor and chugging the rest in one smooth motion.

The pet name catches you off guard, a flutter of warmth spreading through your chest before you can suppress it. You know it's just part of Ted's natural charm, but this time it got to you. You glance at Joelle, who’s already looking at you with an expression that perfectly mirrors your own flustered amusement. Leaning into each other, the two of you dissolve into tipsy giggles. You don’t notice how Schlatt elbows Ted lightly, the glare he shoots his friend anything but playful—daggers sharp enough to kill. Ted responds with a questioning look, his brows raising slightly in surprise. You and Joelle turn back to the table just as they both snap out of it, the moment passing like a whisper in the noise of the room. Ted steps forward, lining up his final shot with exaggerated focus.

Ted steadies his hand, the room falling into a brief, charged silence as everyone watched his every move. “Let’s do it, baby!” he shouts as he tosses the ball, and for a split second, it feels like time slows…

It misses, bouncing off the rim of the cup and onto the floor. A chorus of exaggerated groans erupts around the room, followed by a round of laughter. Ted puts his hands on his head. “No! Fuck!” He looks at Schlatt, who has squatted on the ground with his head in his hands. “Oh my fucking god. Ted.” You hear him mutter. After a moment he stands up, pointing at the ball on the ground. “Go get the ball. I’m gonna show you how a real fuckin’ man wins beer pong.” Ted scoffs as he grabbed the ball and slapped it into Schlatt’s open hand. “Alright, Mr. Beer Pong Prodigy, take your shot and save us all.”

 Schlatt shot him a pointed look before focusing on the shot. “I got this, man.” He tossed the ball with exaggerated precision, only for it to bounce off the rim and onto the floor the same way Ted’s shot had landed. The room erupted in laughter as Schlatt shouted a pained “Fuck!” and dragged a hand down his face. “Oh my god. Oh my god!” 

The other guests roared with laughter, some clutching their sides as Schlatt groaned dramatically, pacing back and forth like the weight of the world had just crushed him. “I can’t believe this,” he muttered, dragging both hands down his face now. Ted can't contain his amusement, his grin stretching wider as he pats Schlatt on the back. “You really showed us how it’s done, buddy,” he says through laughs. He slings an arm over Schlatt’s shoulder, the picture of faux sympathy. “Don’t worry, man. We’ll get ‘em next time.” Schlatt just glares. “Shut up, Ted.” he snapped, but there was no real bite to his words. His expression softened into a begrudging grin as he looked around at the still-laughing crowd. “Alright, alright, everyone get it out of your system. Y’ act like you’ve never seen a man miss before.”

Joelle leans over to you with a grin as the commotion settles, offering you the ping-pong ball. “You wanna land our winning shot?” You glance at her, mischievous grin matching your own, and take the ping-pong ball from her. The lack of weight to it feels strangely significant. “I’ll try not to disappoint.” you say with a wink, straightening up and focusing on the cups across the table. Joelle’s volume lowers as she steps back, her voice teasing. “No pressure, right? You’ve got this.” The room falls into a tense silence, every pair of eyes locked on you. Not a single word is spoken, the only sound filling the air is the low thrum of the music. Ted and Schlatt, still recovering from their earlier fuck-ups, glance at each other before turning their focus back to you, half-smiles tugging at their lips. Schlatt lets out a dramatic sigh, crossing his arms with exaggerated patience. “Alright, let’s see what you’ve got,” he says, his tone a mix of challenge and curiosity.

You line up the shot, taking a deep breath as you focus on the farthest cup— the last remaining. For a split second, the world narrows to just you, the ball, and the target. You feel Joelle’s eyes on you, focusing on her familiar gaze to distract you from everyone else’s. You flick your wrist, sending the ball sailing through the air in a perfect arc. Time seems to stretch for another moment. The ball hits the rim of the cup, bounces, and then... 

swishes straight in.

The room bursts into cheers and laughter, the tension melting away. You and Joelle scream in surprise, throwing your arms around each other in a tight embrace. The victory feels surreal, the rush of it hitting you both all at once. You exchange wide grins, your laughter blending as you high-five. It’s just a game—a houseparty match of beer pong, something you’ve played a hundred times before back in college. No grand prize, no tangible reward for your effort—but for some reason, this win feels different. It’s a small, stupid, fleeting triumph, yet it’s worth every bit of emotional celebration. “That’s what I’m talking about!” Joelle says, pulling you into another hug, her excitement matching yours. “Now that’s how it’s done!” Ted’s booming voice cuts through the noise, and you glance over to see him grinning like a maniac.“Who’s fucking team are you on, man?!” Schlatt’s voice rings out in response, cutting through the rising clamor of the room. His frustrated tone is at odds with the rest of the celebration, but there’s a playful bite to it that keeps the atmosphere light. “What’d I say? Fuck you, Schlatt!” The guy in the pink hoodie shouts once again, his voice loud above the laughter. You catch a flicker of anger flash in Schlatt’s eyes, but it evaporates just as quickly, replaced by a deep breath and a roll of his shoulders. “I’m not even… going to dignify that with a response.”

You glance at him, a teasing smile tugging at your lips. He’s standing at the table, shaking his head dramatically with arms crossed as he glares between you and Ted. Ted just shrugs, clearly unfazed by his friend’s attitude. “C’mon, man. She crushed it. You can’t even be mad.” He rubs Schlatt’s shoulder in consolement but Schlatt just grunts, trying (and failing) to suppress a grin. “Fuckin’ unbelievable.” Schlatt mutters through his grin. “Alright, alright, you got us. I’ll give it to you.” He pauses as he and Ted down the last two cups of beer, then continues. “But next time, I’m gonna win.” You chuckle, the playful back-and-forth easing any tension that had lingered. “We’ll see about that.” you reply, not quite able to hide the pride in your voice.

As the excitement begins to fade, the crowd starts to scatter, some heading to the kitchen for more drinks. The hum of conversation and laughter fills the space, but it’s quieter now, more laid-back. Joelle nudges you with a playful grin. “That was awesome.” she says, still grinning from the rush of the game. You smile, feeling a sense of accomplishment settle in. “Yeah, it definitely felt good to land that shot.” you say, glancing at Ted and Schlatt as they talked. Joelle throws an arm around your shoulders. “I think we’ve earned a drink, don’t you?” With a laugh and a nod, you both head toward the kitchen, leaving the boys to their chat and their mock threats of revenge. The night is still young, and for now, you’re savoring every second of it.

You and Joelle mixed well into the crowd, getting the chance to properly introduce yourselves to the other guests and chatting as everyone refilled their cups. You reconnect with Charlie, the two of you talking about winning and Schlatt being a “little bitch” when it came to losing (Charlie’s words, not yours).

"Seriously, though, Schlatt's the worst." Charlie laughed, shaking his head. “The guy acts like he just lost the Super Bowl, not a beer pong game at his own party.” You chuckle, agreeing. “Yeah, he doesn’t handle it well. But, hey, you gotta respect the passion.” Charlie raises an eyebrow and laughs. "Passionate is definitely a word for it. I thought he was about to flip the fuckin’ table." You both laughed as you caught sight of Schlatt entering the room, joining a conversation by the fridge as he grabbed a Corona. There was a lighthearted edge to the way he was speaking now, the frustrated glint of defeat in his eyes now replaced with something sweeter. 

As the crowd around you settled into a relaxed rhythm, mingling and chatting, you couldn’t help but feel the growing ease of the atmosphere. Joelle had joined another group, deep in conversation, and you could feel her occasional glances toward you—she was definitely enjoying the night as much as you were. Then, the music blared louder, pumping new energy into the room. The guy Schlatt had been playing with when you first arrived—Ludwig, you’d learned his name was (thanks, Charlie)—leaned casually against the doorframe, fist raised in the air as he called out to the crowd. “Me and the boys are about to throw down for the next round of pong if anyone wants to spectate!” His voice carried a playful, almost frat-bro energy, drawing a few chuckles from those nearby. 

You shrug and follow Joelle, Ted, and Charlie back into the living room, where the couch had cleared. The four of you claimed the spot, sinking into the plush cushions as Schlatt and Tucker lingered behind with a few others. “Jesus, Schlatt, this couch is amazing,” Joelle commented, her voice full of admiration. Schlatt grinned, clearly pleased. “Thanks. The one thing I don’t skimp on is furniture. Right, Ted?” Ted rolled his eyes in response, and you guessed the topic was a sore subject between the two of them. “Man, I loved that stupid, shitty couch.” he muttered, a smirk tugging at his lips as he leaned back, clearly amused by the memory. You smile. “Well, now you gotta tell us about the couch.”

⭑

The night continued to unfold around you, the energy of the party shifting in waves. Conversations ebbed and flowed, the sound of laughter mixing with the steady thump of the music. You and Joelle played a few more rounds of beer pong, each match feeling like a new burst of adrenaline. The guys joined in, with Ted and Tucker teaming up against Schlatt and Charlie at one point. The game was a mess of playful banter and competitive energy, but in the end, Ted and Tucker claimed victory, raising their hands in triumph. “It’s all about childhood friendship and smoking weed, baby!” Ted declared, a grin plastered across his face as Tucker laughed and exclaimed with a “hell yeah!”.

With each drink, you felt more at ease, connecting with the new faces around you. The chill music, the spectating comments on the current game of beer pong that Joelle was participating in, and the hockey game that someone had turned the TV onto at some point all blended into the perfect mix of sounds and visuals to keep your tipsy brain entertained. You were having a good time—until, out of nowhere, the familiar buzz of inebriation began to feel a little too heavy, almost suffocating. You shifted in your seat, your whole body feeling hot as the warmth settled a bit too deep. The chatter around you faded into a low hum, and the bright lights from the TV flickered in your peripheral vision, making the room feel like it was spinning just slightly. Joelle’s laughter from across the room was comforting, but a throb began to pulse behind your temples.

Your gaze shifted to the sliding glass door in the back of the living room—was that a balcony?

Without thinking twice, you pushed yourself up from your seat. “I hope it’s okay to go out there,” you thought. “But honestly, I’ll deal with asking Schlatt for forgiveness if it means I’m not about to pass out right in the middle of his party.” You excused yourself quietly, slipping away from the couch and weaving through the crowd. 

As you stepped out onto the balcony, the cool night air hit you like a wave, the sharp contrast to the warmth of the party a welcome relief. Ahead of you, Manhattan stretched out in all its glory, sparkling like a thousand diamonds. The city you loved so much seemed to pulse in rhythm with the distant hum of life, its lights twinkling like stars in the dark sky. The view was breathtaking, made even more mesmerizing by your tipsy haze. You close your eyes for a moment, letting the coolness settle against your skin, trying to force your body back into some semblance of normal. It’s just the buzz, you tell yourself. It’ll pass. You’re fine. Just need a minute.

Leaning against the railing, you took a long, steady breath, letting the fresh air clear the fog in your mind. It felt good to be outside, away from the noise, even if just for a few minutes. The city around you was a quieter companion from this high up and this late at night, offering a softer exchange between you and the view. The muffled sound of music filtered through the glass door behind you, but out here, it was just the steady rhythm of the night, calming and still. Peaceful. And as the dizziness finally began to lift and your thoughts started to settle, you instantly felt ten times better. You shoot a quick text to Joelle to tell her where you had gone in the midst of her beer pong frenzy.

Suddenly, you hear the door slide open behind you. You turned, expecting it to be someone you didn’t really know and preparing for an awkward conversation, but your breath caught in your throat as you realized who’s gaze you were meeting.

Schlatt.

He stepped out onto the balcony, pulling the door closed behind him as he handed you a water bottle. "Needed some air too?" he asked, his tone easy. You nodded, offering a small smile as you took the water bottle from him, cracking it open and taking a sip. The water was so cold it almost burned on the way down like the liquor had. "Thank you." you said, exhaling deeply. "Yeah, i’m good. Just needed a break. Things were... getting a little too much in there." You paused, glancing toward the view before adding with a small chuckle, "I hope it’s okay I came out here. Figured this was a better option than testing how far down the elevator went before I started puking trying to get out to the street for fresh air.” Schlatt let out a short laugh, leaning against the railing beside you, his broad shoulders easing into a relaxed pose. “You’re good, that was definitely the better option.” he said with a grin, lifting his water bottle to his mouth for a quick sip. His eyes flicker over you, usual confident demeanor fading into something a little softer. “You’re alright, though? I mean, aside from needin’ a breather?” “Yeah,” you said, leaning forward on the railing, letting the cool metal press against your arms. “It was just a lot all at once, you know? But this…” You nodded toward the city skyline, the lights twinkling. “This helps.” 

“It does,” he agrees. “I grew up here—well, in Brooklyn—and it still gets me sometimes. There’s something about it that just… puts things into perspective. Makes everything feel smaller.”

You turned your head to look at him, catching the way the city’s glow reflected in his eyes. For someone who could dominate a room with his sharp humor and larger-than-life presence, there was something grounding about seeing him like this—still and thoughtful, at ease in the quiet. You’re not sure what it is, but there’s something different in the way Schlatt looks at you now. It’s not a look of teasing or competition, like the one you’d seen during beer pong. This feels... more focused, as if he’s studying you, watching how you breathe in the night air, how your posture relaxes now that you’re away from the crowd. You catch yourself holding your breath, wondering if he notices too.

“Didn’t peg you as the reflective type.” you teased, your tone light.

He raised an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth curling into that familiar, playful grin. “Don’t let it fool you,” he shot back, his voice a little more relaxed, the playful glint returning to his gaze. “I’m not about to start journaling or writing poetry or anything. I just… like to take a minute when I can.”

There was a surprising honesty in his words that caught you off guard. It wasn’t the kind of thing you’d expect him to admit, and yet it felt so natural in the moment. You smiled softly, nodding. “I get it. I’m from here too.” His gaze flicked back to you, curiosity sparking in his expression. “Yeah? Explains the attitude.” he quipped, his grin widening. You rolled your eyes, laughing. “Yeah, you’re one to talk. I saw you playing beer pong, I bet you road rage like that, too.” Schlatt let out a bark of laughter, his grin stretching wider. “Road rage? What road rage? Please. I’m a model driver. Always have been.” You raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. “Uh-huh. Sure you are. Bet you’re the guy laying on the horn the second the light turns green.” He shook his head, trying to look indignant but failing miserably, smirking instead. “Nah, I give people at least a solid two seconds. It’s called being considerate.” “Generous,” you teased, leaning on the railing again, your words a bit slower as the alcohol fully settled. “So, what’s worse? Losing at beer pong or getting cut off in traffic?” “Oh, definitely losing at beer pong,” he said without hesitation, his words a little more drawn out than usual. “I can get over some idiot cutting me off on the Belt, but losing? To Ted and Tucker of all people? That’ll haunt me for weeks.” You laughed, shaking your head. “You’re ridiculous.” He shrugged, unapologetic, his shoulders dropping with a lazy ease that matched his smile. “What can I say? I’m competitive. Comes with the territory.” “Yeah, okay,” you said with a chuckle, the sound light and carefree.

“Anyways,” Schlatt said after a beat, his tone lighter but curious. “You always lived in New York?” 

“Pretty much.” you said, turning to face him, the city lights blurry at the edges of your vision. “Born and raised, though I moved around a bit for school and work before coming back. Couldn’t stay away for long, though. I’m not from the city or anything, I’m about an hour and a half out, but I’ve always loved it here. It’s always just… called to me. It has that pull, you know?” He nodded, a knowing look in his eyes, and you noticed the way his eyes squinted just a little more than usual, like he was trying to keep focus. “Yeah. No matter where you go, it’s always in the back of your head, isn’t it? Like it’s waiting for you to come back.” “Exactly,” you said, surprised at how perfectly he’d put it, the words coming easier than they should. You studied him for a moment, curiosity pulling at you. “What about you? Do you ever think about leaving?”

Schlatt tilted his head as he considered the question, his gaze drifting just a little. “I did, for a while.” he admitted, his words slower now, each one weighed with thought. “I lived in Texas for a few years, in Austin. Thought I loved it, but I realized after way too long that it was a shithole, and I missed my life here. Maybe I'd leave again once I’m retired, but it’s hard to imagine. New York’s in my blood, you know? Even when it drives me nuts, it’s home.” You smiled. “Guess that makes you a true New Yorker, huh?” “Damn right.” he said, raising his water bottle in a mock toast. “And don’t you forget it.”

The two of you met gazes, and for the first time all night, you really, truly looked at him. 

It’s not the playful teasing or the loud, larger-than-life energy of Schlatt’s party-host persona that stands out now. In this quiet moment, there’s something different about him—more grounded, more present, almost like you’re back at the bar with him. His eyes, usually sharp and full of confidence, are softer now, more thoughtful, like he’s letting his guard down just a little. His expression is calm, and you realize how much this side of him contrasts with the guy who had been the center of attention just hours ago. For a moment, the noise from inside fades into the background, and the only sound is the soft hum of the city around you. It’s a strange feeling—one that pulls at something deeper. You feel it in the air between you, a subtle shift that catches you both off guard. Schlatt’s lips twitch, like he’s about to say something, but he doesn’t, and neither do you. Instead, he takes a small step back from the railing, running a hand through his hair, the casual gesture almost self-conscious. “Well… anyway,” he says, his voice pulling back into that familiar, confident tone, but slower now. “You feelin’ better?” You smile, a soft chuckle escaping you. “Oh, yeah. Definitely still kinda drunk, but better.” you reply, a little hesitant to break the tense moment, but knowing that’s what he was trying to do. Still, there’s something about it—the way he subtly shifts back, like he's putting the walls up again—that lingers in the air, unspoken. You turn back toward the door, the party still going on inside, waiting. But there’s a part of you that knows this conversation, this small break in the night, will stay with you longer than the noise that surrounds it.

"Hey, why is it that we only seem to cross paths like this when we're both kinda drunk?" Schlatt asks, ending with a hearty laugh, breaking the silence. You laugh at his question, not fully realizing how true that was until you heard it out loud. “I dunno. Maybe it’s fate.” “Fate, huh? You believe in that shit?" You shrug. “I dunno. Maybe? I kinda like the idea that everything I’m supposed to become is out there waiting for me, but I’d also like to think I still have some say in the matter too.” You take a sip of your water. “What about you? D’you think this gorgeous penthouse with one of the best views of Manhattan has just been sitting here waiting for you for 25 years?” you ask, gesturing around the apartment.

He laughs, shaking his head. "Oh, hell no. The last guy who lived here killed himself in the bathroom. If the universe's been subconsciously calling me to live here, I’m pretty sure it’s not setting me up for anything good." You freeze for a moment, eyes wide in disbelief. He chuckles at your reaction, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "I'm kidding." You roll your eyes, shaking your head. "You're ridiculous." He grins, shrugging. "Yeah, I know."

 As silence settles back over the two of you, you hear a familiar song begin playing from inside. The lyrics are muffled, but the beat is unmistakable. You smile, turning your head toward the music. “Did you make this playlist?” Schlatt’s brow furrows slightly at the question, his smile shifting to one of mild confusion. “Yeah, actually. Why? You not feeling it?” You grin. “No, quite the opposite. I love this song.” His eyebrows raise, and you raise your hand to your mouth in a mock-microphone pose, singing along to the lyrics you can barely piece together but know by heart. Schlatt grins and joins in quietly. As the first verse ends, you both dissolve into laughter.

“That was so stupid,” you say, still giggling as you catch your breath. “I’m sorry.” He shakes his head, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Nah, don’t apologize. It wasn't stupid. It was cute.” The blush creeping up your neck betrays you once again, and you turn slightly, letting the music fill the space between you. 

Did he just say cute?

Schlatt’s voice breaks the quiet before you have time to think about it. “Kinda funny that this song’s playing right now, huh?” You glance over your shoulder at him, curiosity sparked. “Why?” He hesitates, his fingers drumming lightly against the plastic bottle in his hand. “Do you know what the song’s actually about?” You shake your head. He draws a short breath, almost like he’s steadying himself. “It’s, uh… it’s about meeting a girl at a party who seems so cool, so out of reach, that you end up just waiting around for the perfect song to come on to give you the nerve to go talk to her.”

Your lips part slightly, the weight of his words settling in the space between you. The air feels different now—charged, as though the universe itself had leaned in closer to eavesdrop. “Yeah?” you ask, your voice softer, a little unsure, as you met his gaze. He nods, the corner of his mouth tilting up into a small smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, like he’s testing the waters. “Yeah.”

The world around you seemed to blur at the edges, softened by the gentle haze of the night and your tipsy state. His deep brown eyes, framed by long, delicate lashes, held your gaze effortlessly. As your eyes traced the contours of his face, you found yourself memorizing every freckle, every mole, every faint line etched by laughter and time, all illuminated by the soft glow of the dim light. That warm blush was still ever present across your cheeks, now unmistakable even in the chill of the night. Part of you hoped he’d chalk it up to the cold, but a quieter, bolder part of you almost wished he wouldn’t.

“Hey, would you-” He speaks, words hanging heavy in the air, thick with tension between the two of you. “Would you maybe wanna go get dinner sometime?”

The words hung in the air, their weight settling between you like something fragile and precious. You could feel your pulse quicken, the warmth in your chest spreading outward as his gaze softened just slightly, waiting for your response. Your lips parted, but no words came at first. His question had been so simple, yet it felt like the most important thing in the world. You couldn't help but smile, a little nervous, a little breathless, but entirely captivated by the way he was looking at you, the way he seemed to be hanging on your answer.

Yes please, absolutely, a million times yes.

Before you could manage to squeeze out your answer, the door behind you slides open. Both you and Schlatt turn toward the sound, breaking the moment. A shorter guy steps out, sunglasses perched on his head and a Switch controller in hand. You recognize him vaguely from earlier—Connor, maybe? “Hey, Sch—oh, shit, sorry if I’m interrupting,” he blurts, pausing as he takes in the scene. “I was just sent to tell you Hasan’s heading out and wants to say goodbye.”

Schlatt sighs, a deep red flush settling over his face as he stands from leaning his forearms on the railing. “Of course he does.” he mutters under his breath. He flashes a quick look at you, his expression softening for just a split second. “I’ll be right back.” he adds, before turning toward Connor and walking inside. Schlatt walks off, and Connor just looks at you. “You comin’ in?” He asks, and you nod. “Yeah, thank you.”

You glance at your phone, your heart skipping as you realize it’s nearly 3 AM—how long had you been outside? You start to think it’s probably time to find Joelle and head back to your apartment. The time spent outside, combined with the water bottle Schlatt had brought you and the emotional conversation you’d just shared, definitely sobered you up a bit—but any progress you had made had immediately been thrown off by Schlatt’s question, head now spinning for an entirely different reason. Nerves? Excitement? Maybe both?

 Glancing around, you notice that several people had already left, leaving a smaller group huddled on the couches, engrossed in a video game. As you scanned the crowd, your brain zeroed in and focused when you realized Joelle was nowhere to be seen. You take a step forward, then stop in your tracks, scanning the room for a face you could confidently put a name to. You spot Tucker leaning against the wall, and quickly make your way over. “Hey, do you know where Joelle went?” you ask. “Oh, she passed out on the couch earlier.” Your stomach tightens, and you must’ve made a face because he quickly adds, “Oh, not like, passed out-passed out. Just fell asleep.” He gestures toward the hallway. “Ted took her to the guest room to let her chill. It’s the second door on the left.” Relief washes over you, though it doesn’t completely extinguish your nerves. “Okay, cool. Thank you.” 

As you turn toward the hallway, unease creeps back in. You try to shake it off, telling yourself it’s nothing, but the thought lingers: hopefully, everything’s fine. Approaching the dimly lit hallway, you spot a door left slightly ajar. You cross your fingers, hoping it’s the right room—and hoping even more that you’re not about to walk in on something you’ll wish you hadn’t seen. Taking a slow breath, you nudge it open just enough to peek inside. The room is dim, bathed in the soft glow of a lamp on the nightstand. Relief washes over you as you see Joelle, fully clothed, peacefully sprawled on the bed. Her head rests gently in Ted's lap, and he looks up at you as the door creaks open. His fingers are gently threading through her hair, playing with it absentmindedly as he scrolls through his phone. "Hey.” he says, a soft smile forming on his lips, his voice barely above a whisper. "Hey." you reply, matching his quiet tone to avoid waking Joelle as you move over to sit on the edge of the bed, near her legs.

“She’s fine,” he says quietly, preempting any questions. “Just needed a place to crash. She conked out waiting for her turn on Mario Kart.” You give a small nod, the tension in your shoulders easing a little. “Yeah, that sounds about right. Thanks for making sure she’s okay.” you say softly. Ted’s eyes flicker toward Joelle before returning to you, his voice still quiet but steady. “Yeah, no problem. She’s a sweetheart.” You smile at his words, feeling a warmth settle over you in the quiet of the room. “Yeah, she is.” you agree, glancing at Joelle again, her chest rising and falling with every soft breath.

After a moment, you break the silence. “We should probably get going soon.” You place a hand on Joelle’s leg, rubbing it gently to wake her up. “Hey, Jelly.” you call softly, volume at a slightly higher level. She stirs, letting out a small grunt, and Ted chuckles under his breath. “Hmmm…? Y/N?” she murmurs, blinking slowly as she starts to wake up. “Yeah, it’s me.” You respond, smiling. “We’re still at Schlatt’s, you fell asleep. I’ll give you a couple of minutes to wake up, but we’re gonna head out soon, okay?” She sighs, rubbing her eyes. “Okay.” As she opens them, her gaze flicks through a few emotions before settling into a grin when she realizes she’s lying in Ted’s lap. “Oh hey, cutie.” she says, her voice light. Ted lets out a nervous laugh. “Oh hey, pretty girl.” You roll your eyes, smiling playfully as you stood up from the bed. “Okay, I’ll be back for you in ten minutes. I better not catch any funny business when I come back!” you say, adopting a mock parental tone. Joelle giggles, and as you turn to leave, you throw them an accusatory glance through the crack in the door. “I see everything.” you mutter, closing the door softly behind you with a smile. You turn your back to the wall, sliding down until you're sitting on the floor. You pull your phone out and scroll for a moment, but before you can get too lost in it, you hear the sound of a door shutting at the opposite end of the hall.

“What’s goin’ on over here?”

You look up to find Schlatt walking toward you with a beer in hand, that familiar grin on his face. You can't help but smile in return. “Another beer? You might wanna slow down there, dude.” He scoffs, closing the distance and sliding down to sit against the opposite wall. He bends one leg to fit across from you in the narrow hallway. “I’m 6’3 and 250 pounds. It takes a lot more than what I’ve had tonight to get me drunk.” You raise an eyebrow, stifling a laugh as he finishes the sentence with a small hiccup. “Right.” 

Changing the subject, you gesture behind you toward the guest room. “Ted and Joelle are in there,” you explain. “She fell asleep on the couch earlier, so he was just keeping an eye on her while she napped. We’re heading out soon, but I figured I’d give her a few minutes to wake up and say her goodbyes. I told them no funny business.” Schlatt takes a swig of his beer, eyes narrowing. “There better not be any funny business. I’ll kick Ted’s ass if he tries anything in my house.” You laugh, and he lets out a soft chuckle.

 “Thank you for inviting us,” you say, your gaze meeting his again. He smiles. “Yeah, anytime. Although, I’m not sure how many more parties like this I’ll be throwing. I’ve been over it for the last, like, two hours.” he adds, a slight weariness in his tone. You grin. “The curse of being the life of the party, huh?” He nods. “Yep. Guess so.” The smile still lingers on his lips, but his eyes carry a different weight, something hidden beneath the surface of his words.

“Did you have a good time?” he asks, his eyes gleaming with a quiet, hopeful curiosity. “Yeah, I did!” you reply with a small smile, feeling the warmth of the night settle around you. “I was pretty nervous at first, with Joelle and I being the only ones who didn’t know everyone else, but it worked out. Everyone was super nice.” He nods. “Good. I’m glad.” The two of you sit there together, the hum of the party still floating through the air from the living room. You notice him absentmindedly fiddling with the hem of his crewneck, his gaze distant as though his thoughts are far away. Before you can ask what’s going on in that (frustratingly unreadable) mind of his, his eyes flick up to meet yours– that confident glint you recognized from earlier was back. 

“About what i asked earlier.”

Your breath caught in your throat as he continued. “I know I pointed out how we’ve only ever crossed paths while we’re getting drunk, but.. I dont need the alcohol to want to hang out with you. You’re cool, you’re easy to talk to, i just…” he pauses. “Would really like to see you while i’m not already four beers deep. And that’s crazy coming from me, ‘cause I love to drink.” he ends the sentence with a small laugh, and you smile, looking away from him to distract from the major blush creeping across your face. 

Was this seriously happening? The handsome guy you met at the bar last week, the one who was textbook-definition your type, texted you all week, invited you to his party, and now was asking you on a date? Not to mention, your best friend was currently getting into it with his best friend. Either the universe was answering every prayer you’d ever sent its way, or it was setting you up for the most gloriously humbling disaster of your life.

Pulling yourself from your swirling thoughts, you glance back at him. There’s a flicker of nerves in his expression, something endearing and almost vulnerable. You smile, letting your words tumble out before overthinking them.

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

He raises his eyebrows, his lips twitching into a playful grin. “‘I’d like that’? I work up all this courage to ask you out on a completely stone cold sober date, and all you’ve got for me is, ‘I’d like that’?” You laugh, rolling your eyes. “You’re such a diva.” Crossing his arms, he leans back against the wall, the familiar shit-eating grin spreading across his face like it never left. “Nah, I wanna hear you say it.” You shoot back. “Are you serious?” “Dead fuckin’ serious,” he replies, nodding with feigned seriousness, the laughter already breaking through his voice. “You’re unbelievable,” you mutter, shaking your head. “Fine. Yes, Schlatt, I’ll go on a date with you.” “Sober?” he presses, his tone teasing but his eyes sparkling with real amusement. “Yes,” you reply, drawing out the word dramatically. “Completely sober. I promise.” He nods, his grin softening into something almost boyish. “Alright. That’s what I like to hear.”

He leans back against the wall, clearly pleased with himself, and takes a sip of his beer. You can’t help but shake your head, a grin tugging at your lips as you watch him. The room feels a little warmer, the noise fading into the background as the moment lingers between you.

“So,” you tease, breaking the silence, “where does a guy like you take someone on a sober date?” Schlatt smirks, tilting his head as if he’s deep in thought. “Oh, you know, somewhere real high end for you. Probably a dive bar—” he lets out a fake wince. “Wait, can’t do that. Forgot the ‘sober’ part.” You laugh, sticking him with a soft punch to the leg. “Very funny.” He chuckles, the sound low and easy. “You know me.” 

The two of you sit, chatting and laughing, the hallway conversation stretching longer than you’d realized. A glance at your phone jolts you back to reality: 3:54 AM. “Jesus, okay, I really need to go home. Where’s my roommate?” you mutter, pushing yourself up from the floor.Schlatt stands as well, adjusting his crewneck as he pushes off from the wall. You turn to the door of the guest room, knocking lightly. When no response comes, you knock again, louder this time. Still nothing. Schlatt rolls his eyes. “For fuck’s sake. Let’s go, Ted. Let the poor woman go home.” Without hesitation, he grabs the handle and swings the door open. 

Both of you freeze. 

Joelle is straddling Ted’s lap on the edge of the bed, the two completely lost in a heated make-out session. “Jesus fucking Christ!” Schlatt blurts, shielding his eyes dramatically. “Didn’t Y/N specifically say no funny business?!” Joelle pulls back, breathless but grinning sheepishly, while Ted groans, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Could’ve knocked.” Ted mutters. “I Did! Twice!” you exclaim, throwing your hands in the air with a smile of disbelief. Schlatt crosses his arms. “Honestly, Ted, this is just embarrassing. Under my roof? I’d say you’re better than this, but i think we both know that’d be a dirty fuckin’ lie.” 

Joelle laughs, still perched on Ted’s lap, clearly unbothered. “Alright, alright, you’ve caught us. Let me grab my stuff, and we’ll head out,” she says, sliding off Ted and smoothing her hair with zero urgency. Ted huffs, his cheeks flushed as he stands, adjusting himself and shooting Schlatt a pointed look—half sheepish, half murderous, as if to say I’m going to strangle you for this. Schlatt, of course, is utterly unfazed, leaning further into this mock-authoritative dad persona. “You are not sleeping in that bed tonight.” Schlatt says, leveling a dramatic finger at him. “Clean sheets, Ted. You don’t deserve them.” Ted throws his hands up in frustration, though his smirk betrays his disamusement. “Fine. Couch it is. Happy, Dad?” “Ecstatic,” Schlatt fires back, his smug grin growing. “Now get the fuck ‘outta here before you traumatize Y/N and I any further.” Ted scoffs. “Oh, please. Like you haven’t done worse in less respectable places.” he continues as he saunters out of the room. Schlatt’s grin widens, unrepentant as he follows his friend out. “Yeah, but I don’t get caught. Rookie mistake, my man.”

You shake your head, still laughing as Joelle grabs her bag and slips on her shoes. “God, they’re worse than us,” she mutters, rolling her eyes affectionately and flashing you a grin. “Seriously,” you snicker, motioning her toward the door. “Let’s get out of here before whatever they’ve got rubs off on us. I’m not ready to start sucking at beer pong too.”

As you step back into the main room, only a small group of people remains, gathered around the couches and fixated on a YouTube video playing on the TV—its chaotic humor incomprehensible out of context. You and Joelle make your way over to say your goodbyes, exchanging a few high-fives and Instagram handles along the way. It warms your heart to hear that these creative, talented content creators enjoyed your company as much as you did theirs. You bid your dramatic goodbye to Ted, who you actually found yourself becoming a lot better friends with than you expected. He was a goofball, but he was genuine. 

As you turn, you spot Schlatt leaning against the wall next to the front door, his gaze fixed on you. A small smile tugs at your lips as you approach him. “So,” he says with a grin, his voice low and easy. “how’s next Wednesday at 6:30 sound?”

 Your heart flutters at the thought—Schlatt, actually taking you out on a date.

“Sounds perfect,” you reply, a smile playing on your lips. “Where are we going?” He shrugs, his grin shifting to something more sheepish. “Honestly? I have no idea yet. Didn’t expect to get this far. But I’ll let you know.” You laugh, shaking your head. “Right.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Ted and Joelle exchanging hugs and saying their final goodbyes. You glance back at Schlatt, warm, fuzzy feeling in your chest unmistakable—and for once, it’s not the result of alcohol. 

“Well,” you say softly, holding his gaze, “thank you for the party. I’ll talk to you later, and…” You smile sweetly, your voice light. “I’ll see you Wednesday at 6:30.” Schlatt’s grin widens, and his eyes light up in a way that makes your cheeks flush. “I’ll be there.” You scoff playfully. “You better. I know where you live now—I’ll find you.” Schlatt smirks, stepping aside to open the door for you. “Yeah, I bet.” 

You take a step back, lingering just a moment longer. “Goodnight, Schlatt.” He smiles, leaning on the doorframe, Ted looming behind him. “Goodnight, Y/N.” He extends a goodnight to Joelle as well, and the two of you set off down towards the elevators.

As you hear the door latch behind you, Joelle nudges you with her elbow. “That was cute, what was that?” You grin, still feeling the warmth of the moment. “God, Joelle, I have so much to tell you.”

← last chapter

[overnightheartbeats]

His smirk was distracting her in all the best ways, even more so when he bit on his bottom lip. He had to know the effect it has on her. "Hm, that is tempting.Do I get a hint of what the sneak peek is?" Just playing along, because she knew he had mentioned being tired. Chances were, they'd both be passed out within minutes. "You're right, she'll have time to adjust to having another baby in the house. Otherwise, she might not want to share her dad with another sibling. Juju and I were just saying that! I was sure she was going to have a boy, but baby girl surprised us. She's going to be the first girl in the family, and first grandchild for them too. They can't wait to meet her, it's a really exciting time for the Contreras family. I'm just really happy for Juju, to be surrounded by all that love." Laurel made a show out of listening to him, her head tilted to the side and nodding encouragingly as he spoke. As if she's never heard these things before. It amused her that he thought her introductions at work were sexy. "Borrowing, yes exactly. You gotta admit babe, I do rock your sweatshirts. They all live cozily in my closet, safe and sound."

"It'd be much appreciated, it would give me a chance to block the door. Though, then you'd be late for work, so maybe not." she added to his joke before planting a kiss to his cheek. "Hm, the most serious federal crime. Absolutely no touching."

At the mention of Juju's latest show, Laurel could only laugh before nodding in agreement. "Oh my goodness, you're right. I was thinking more baby number one and baby number two, like the characters from The Cat in the Hat. But, ten nameless babies does sound more like the Umbrella Academy. Let's not get ideas from there." But, now she was picturing mini red sweaters from the cat in the hat. Thing one and Thing two, adorable. "I think so too, next time we'll break our record for naming our baby. Even sleep deprived, you are insanely smart babe. Coming up with Rosebud was a genius moment."

Her hand rested on her stomach, his proud smile making her emotional beyond understanding. "Our tiniest cheerleader. Time is moving so fast, I'm ready...and yet, I'm not," she admitted. The thought of all the Phillips under one roof was intriguing to her. She had spent limited time with all of them in one place, but she hadn't had the chance to see Eli enjoy his family. That was enough to convince her that this was the right idea. "Is this how you're convincing me, with them taking the night shift? Because I'm in. I'll work extra hard to convince them to join us here," she teased with a wide smile. Her smile growing when he brought up the cabin in Chicago. "Wait, yes. Well, not this year for sure, but soon, we'll take her. Spending the holidays there with our girl sounds like a dream. Is the festival back already? But, yes, I'd love that. Maybe we get a headstart on our Christmas shopping." Not really, but there were always plenty of trinkets that she couldn't resist. She squeezed his hand, cozily leaning against his shoulder as they walked through the crowd. "True, but if your sisters can't get him to smile, then nothing will."

Isaac spotted his brother and Laurel walking towards them, and he just waved in their direction. Inez and Emma couldn't help their smiles upon seeing them, remnants of the fun they had earlier. "We're ready, yes! It was so much fun. You should've seen Isa's face, he looked like a deer in headlights." Isaac only rolled his eyes, "I was not, but yes we should go." Shortly after, Laurel mentioned the dinner plans they made earlier, which Emma clapped her hands at. More plans, more fun. For now, at least, it was time to head home and freshen up.

Eli smirked and chewed his bottom lip. "Tell you what, once we get home and after we say goodnight, we'll sneak peek one thing off our list," the list in question was the things they hadn't done in months. Sure, this time they'd have to get creative with her protruding belly but a challenge he knew they'd excel at. "I am too not gonna lie. At least it'll give us some time and her some time to see what it's like to have a sibling like best friend. I honestly can't believe we're all having girls first. I thought since Aaron had brothers that that track record would continue." His laughter rang out as he knew that would catch her attention. "First off, when you're out of the shower and you let your hair air dry but it starts getting curly," that sight always had him staring. There was something so sexy about her hair like that. "Then, it's when you introduce yourself at work. The sexiest one of all is truly when you steal, er...borrow my sweatshirts that you never give back."

He smiled as his lips were still close to her fingertips. "So you're saying you want me to walk slower like a snail? Would that be better?" Eli couldn't help but joke since if she asked he'd do anything she asked. "I'm not sure but wouldn't that be a federal crime if they touched?"

He cringed knowing how right she was. "Poor ten babies being nameless. They'd just be baby numbers at that point. Like what's that show juju was obsessed with, oh right, Umbrella Academy. Wasn't there a kid named Seven?" Just because he wasn't really watching didn't mean he hadn't paid attention when the girls took over the TV. "I don't know. We shall see after we get our first out. But I do think there's less pressure after the first since you're a little more confident. And that was on my sleep deprived self when I came up with Rosebud. Soon as we knew it was a girl that nickname just clicked."

"She's already on our side." The proud smile spread over his features as the thought of their girl became more of a reality. "I can't believe she'll come meet us in a little under 4 weeks. That's insane to me." The Phillips under one roof was insanity but in the same place that was a dream. "It will get chaotic but it'll be so much fun. We'd put them to work the night shift with Rosebud." Laurel brought up a good point. "You know what, that's a good point. We need to take her to the cabin in Chicago. I feel like you can't go anymore but maybe we can go to that indoor Christmas festival. Something to get us out of the house." He watched her get up and was ready to render aid as he got up after her. Taking her hand was the normal and interlocked it. "Hmm I don't know. I may say debatable if he's still thinking I hate him."

They moved through the crowds easily until they found his siblings. "You guys ready to go?"

[mintjeru]

"but there is nothing more beautiful and terrifying than innocence."

open for better quality | no reposts

[kbsd]

john and gale in stalag luft iii // "violet hill" for @swifty-fox

if you love me, won't you let me know?