#cos my ugly phase is almost over

[evansbby]

I’m finally out of my ugly phase yasss let’s goooo

[djtommotomlinson]

last november i was in china when my little brother called me and told me to come home. over summer my nan, my mums mum, had passed away before i had managed to get back to see her and my mum, my best friend in the world, had a heart attack soon after. i was with her then. we went to the funeral. she got better. we saw robbie williams live. we went out drinking and to the beach and watched coyote ugly and la la land together, our fave movies.

when my brother called me to tell me mum had cancer i knew it was bad. i lost my best friend to cancer when we were just 16 years old. thats never a good word. but its my mum. and to quote her days after her own mums death 'i always knew one day my mum would die but i never knew she would, like, actually die'.

i knew in the back of my head why i was going home but i didnt believe it. i watched spiderverse for like the third time on the plane. i went to grab my suitcase and laughed when i realised i was at the wrong shanghai - gatwick conveyor belt. who knew there were two at almost the same time.

then my brother, my baby brother, who is 30 next year but was 28 and always our baby brother, called me and my life is never ever going to be the same. i knew the moment he called. and i sat on the floor at gatwick airport shaking and people kept coming over to ask if i was okay and finally my sister and my aunties, my mums sisters, arrived and they were let into the baggage area when they explained and picked me off the floor.

i dont think this is a grief that has settled yet. i was meant to see louis that night. i havent listened to a song by him since despite his music getting me through some of my hardest times. my denial, she'll walk through the door and say this was all a joke, phase went on for months after we planned and executed a funeral and wake on the beach in malta. i made a great playlist, i wrote a great eulogy. i did that but it didnt properly sink in why.

i still, almost a full year on, wake up and think about messaging her to tell her how im feeling and check in on her.

my mum used to send me one direction news she found on facebook every day. harrys got a new album emmy did you know? and i was like no mum wow thank you (of course i already knew). she loved niall and we were going to see him live together. she wasnt a big fan of louis' music but ached for what he'd been through. i woke up the day after hearing about liam expecting a text from her checking in because she got me 1d tickets in 2014 for my 23rd birthday and she brought me merch and the dvd of the movie -

my mum who hated the beatles because they were too mainstream but loved what i loved because i loved it and was passionate about it. god she would have been crushed for me today. she would have been heart broken.

and i think this has hit me like a train not only because everyone who knows me knows how much i loved liam as if he was my own friend, but also because this past year has been so full of grief i dont always know how to get out of bed. my dads mum passed a few months ago. my family are wrecked with it. this past year has been a nightmare we can't get out of.

i always related to liam as someone who was bullied at school and as someone who suffers from mental illness and has suffered from alcoholism, thankfully, for me, something ive managed to come back from and im sober and i always hoped for that for him. its such a hard fucking mountain to climb and i didn't have to deal with the fame side of it and this whole other thing he had to carry. i always wanted him to get better but in the back of my head i had this feeling, i had this fear that i would one day log into tumblr and see the worst.

i still cant, and im sure for a long time won't, believe this real. thats one of my boys. we were very much meant to get old together. i wanted to see him get better. i cant begin to comprehend the fact he wont have that chance. this still doesnt feel real to me man. thats my boy.

just a few days ago I was in a convenience store and they were playing heart meets break and i was jamming and excited to hear my boy in a store. i keep remembering its happened, and i look at the photo on my bedside of me and my mum at the robbie williams concert and i could really do with her right now. a link to a facebook article and her over use of emojis - a shocked and crying face and a broken heart. because what else can express this?

i know i didnt know him but i always had the comfort of knowing of him, of listening to his music and watching his videos and feeling less alone in a cruel and lonely world.

its okay to be a fucking mess, if you can take time out please do. i wish this world allowed more of that. after my mum everyone had to go back to jobs and life and it still blows my mind that i was walking down the street then and today and everything was the same. the world should pause but it doesn't.

at the end of all of this, one day this might settle and make sense but right now it doesnt at all and thats how these things work. i love you all, this is not something i thought we would have to face until we had all grown old and spent all of our money on reunion tickets and seen our boys grow old and live their lives.

give people you love a hug, tell people you love that you care about them, work out problems and differences if you can and make the most of it. you never know how much time you have.

[thebottomfromhell]

can i request a uppermoons x female reader who is like jinx from arcane (you can watch arcane on netflix!!)

I have watched Arcane, good show, saying it as a person who never played LOL. It's one of those series where one minute leaves 3 hours discussion of a topic, and Jinx is wonderful in it. I love what they do with her, showing her struggles with her mental issues and the violent and political world around her, one having to accept that she is very hard to deal with as everyone is trying their best and failing at whatever they are doing.

Let's see if I can make her justice.

Female Reader like Jinx (Arcane ver) interacting with the Uppermoons

Warnings: Small Hantengu, Cannibalism, Unhealthy relationships, Mental health issues and neglect, Bad coping mechanism, Implied polyamory (can be read with Hantengu and all the clones, some or just one), Excesive use of violence, Bullying, Mentioned non-character human death amd Slight angst.

Gyutaro (ft. Daki):

If Gyutaro had a yen for every girl that got attached to him in an unhealthy manor creating a dynamic of co-dependance due several mental issues that remained unsolved because his over-protectiveness and his comforming nature, he would have two yen. Which isn't much, but it's weird it happened twice, specially with how ugly he is. But Daki doesn't mind and you seem to like his unsettling face and body. Gyutaro is not against taking care of you both, he doesn't mind and will gladly make his life about someone he loves for the sake of having any worth and purpose...

The problem, or one of them, at least, is that Daki nor you like Gyutaro taking care of the other. You both seem to want the older demon for yourselves, having him comforting you, making every tiny bit of ick and pain go away. "I was here first! I was with him before you! I will be here when you are gone! You are only a phase! Get lost and stop bothering my onii-chan!" "Shut up! If I am a phase then why are you so bratty about it! Just accept that your brother likes me better than you! Right Nichi-nichi?" You talk to a blade from a dead slayer that you turned into a snake toy, hearing what it has to say. Nichi-nichi agrees with you, "of course you are more likable than that Daki bitch", you knew it would agree. And yes, Nichi-nichi pronouns are it/them, thank you very much.

Gyutaro just puts himself in between you both, letting you grab one of his arm and pull as she grabs the other. "Enough! Ne, both of you! Stop insulting each other, ne." He scolds both of you, not minding as both of you play with his arms, Daki bringing his hand to her face to have Gyutaro comforting her. "Onii-chan! Onii-chan, Y/N was mean to me!" Really, he has no idea how to deal with you both. What is he even meant to do, last time he chose Daki as the winner of the argument you not only tried to harm her but harmed yourself in the process. And he can't just... not side his little sister. The worst part is that he doesn't want you to leave, and you don't want to leave neither.

"Please, ne.. stop fighting." He pulls both of you into a hug, letting his sister nuzzle against his stomach and you against his hack, using his hands to sooth both of you, sighing when you both relax enough to the point you are almost asleep. Seriously, what is he meant to do?

Gyokko:

"STOP STEALING MY MATERIALS, YOU CRAZY WOMAN!!" He screams on top of his lungs as you stole some bones and katanas, besides some paint and ceramics to build a 4 bladed gun with shark appereance... with his stuff. "What?" You ask him, seeing his horrified look at the materials spread on the floor, some even wasted, to make... to make.. "What even is that?" He ask, not really knowing what to say, feeling his head is going to explode. "You like him? His name is Fishbones! He is a fish, just like you! Say "hi" Fishbones! "Hello Gyokko, is very nice to meet ya"."

Fishbones... fishbones, of course. WHY THAT PIECE OF TRASH HAS A NAME! WHY ARE YOU- WHY?! "My head hurts." He really doesn't know how to deal with the insane, with you. He means, you are fun to be around, always helpful to kill people and fetch materials of all times, you are also very creative and a piece of joy... most of the time. Other times you just behave like a brat, and he would usually get rid of you by now but he guess it was his mistake to warm up to you.

"Hey! It's rude to ignore people, Mer-artist. Fishbones is sad now!" You move Fishbones so the "face" looks down for him to be able to express his sadness. Sometimes Gyokko is just so rude! He should thank the gods that he is funny and has the best materials for art, or else you wouldn't stick around. He makes a weird face, which you guess could also be a normal face since his face is weird, and you just tale Fishbones closer to you. "Don't worry, Fishbones. The ugly mermaid is just like that, he will warm up to you." You reach your ear closer to hear what he has to say as Gyokko decides to ignore you for now, and god that was funny, you laugh at Fishbone's voices. "Hahaha! Good one!"

"Why did I do this to myself?" He ascts as he sees you running away to play... he should have just killed you the day he met you. For real.

Hantengu + Clones:

Hantengu... stands you. You are not the safest person to be around and not only he feels intimidated by you, but also a bit afraid. You are always on something, so, while he appreciates you and likes you, he prefers leaving you to his clones most of the time, who can entertain you and keep up with you easier. That doesn't stop you from pulling him off his safe space, taking in your hand when he is small and running around with him. "AHHHH! EEEEAAK! LET ME GO, PLEASE LET ME GO!" You only laugh and keep running as Karaku laughs while Urogi flies over your head, playing with you. "I will catch you! I will catch you!" "Try to catch me! But I have Hantengu! I am the queen of the ga-" you are interrupted with Sekido and Aizetsu arriving.

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING! CAREFUL WITH THE MAIN BODY!" He says angrily as he walks where you are, everyone in their places without moving, until Sekido tries to reach your arm, making you dodge and keep running. "Catch me if you can!" Everyone stays dumbfounded for a while as Hantengu begins to scream again, grabbing himself on your fingers as the anger clone starts to build up fury as Karaku and Urogi begin laughing. "This is so sad, Hantengu looks like he will throw up. You are all just torturing the poor thing." Knowing he won't be heard, the sad clone just steps aside as Sekido explodes. "Y/N YOU FUCKING-"

He was about to strike you with the power of his staff but Karaku stops him as Urogi keeps chasing you. "Hey, hey, Sekido. Don't get so angry or you will be the one hurting the main body!" All the arteries seem to want to explode with some veins in the anger clone body, who just looks at the pleasure clone before stabbing him "THEN YOU GO GET THEM, YOU LAZY FUCK!" Karaku laughs as he heals "Ok! Guys! I was told to play with ya all!" This, again, angers Sekido as you all start chasing each other, except for Aizetsu who was waiting for everyone to calm down before inserting himself in all the action.

You like this group, it's mostly cozy and there is always someone willing to pay attention to you, to take care of you, listen to you. There are no expectations, just fun, being able to be a chaotic as you want, and you get to prove who you are in battle. "Got you!" Urogi lands on top of you, the impulse making you throw Hantengu in the air, being catched by Aizetsu's spear. "I think that was enough for today. It's making me sad." "Hahaha, great catch you both!" "Thanks!" "So scary! So scary!" "Can't you all stop causing trouble?!" Ypu would not change them for nothing. "That was great! Who wants another game?" "YES!" "NO!"

Nakime:

Look, you are a lovely woman, Nakime thinks it's endearing how you make your own projects and build up little things, as chaotic as they mey turn. You have like 7 rooms and 5 hallways to destroy as you wish in her castle, where you create your tinckets. She is very patient with you, listening to your problems when you want to talk about them, which you barely do, and gives you space when you need it. Sure, she doesn't talk as much as you probably wished she did, and Nakime does have her responsibilities, she still doesn't understand...

What did she ever do to you to blow up her room?! Nakime doesn't need to sleep, but of course she keeps a place for herself, one with luxuries and things she would have liked to have as a human, and now the surfaces are all burned up with the place destroyed. Her books, dresses, extra biwas... all gone. She doesn't even know how to react, the biwa of her Blood Demon Art almost slipping through her fingers. No words come from her mouth as you stand there, also burned but not as harmed as you could be. "Hey! Haha... this is not what it looks like."

Nakime then comes out of her shock. "What happened?" She knows better than to word it as "what did you do" since... you are not stable, at all. She understands that, and she also understand you have different needs from her, that your way of interacting with the world is naturally... other. Nakime likes to think that her stability is something that you need, something that will be good for you, as long as she can keep everything under control, as long as you both are in the castle. "I... wanted to make you a gift... but it didn't work like I wanted." You are guilty, you know how much Nakime loved the things in her room and you ruined it.

No, what are you talking about? You didn't ruin anythin, you had good intentions, you wanted to be helpful. That is enough, righ? You don't need to feel guilty about it, right? Right?! Nakime takes a deep breath before putting her hands in the side of you face gently, you can feel her loong nails scare away the ick and noise of your self doubt as her palms, not soft nor harsh, comfort you. "Ok. How about you lead me to your rooms next time." She is angry, but she also understand that her anger will be harmful, so as long as she can control everything... it will be fine. "Ok, next time!" You rush to put aside any bad feeling, relying in Nakime's stability for it.

Akaza:

He has to take care of you, he understands... you are a woman, and you are sick. Not the typical sick that can be cured, not that it ever bothered, but a sick more like... like Douma, not that Akaza will ever admit it. You have problems, a lot of them, and most lead you to cause problems. He understands that you want to prove your worth at the same time you just want to be able to live your life, he really does... but you need to stop. You need a break. To try and heal and it's awful because he can't nurse you as he should-

"Pinkie-flake! What are you thinking about? Your frown can basically shout in my ear." He doesn't get startled even when you break his concentration as you jump over his back, wanting a bit of attention. Akaza is nice, too worried for it to be healthy for either of you, as far as you are concerned, but he served as the best source of comfort. Now, if only he dared to let you fight, then things would be much better. Still, you like him a lot, Akaza lets you rambles and pays attention to you, trying to find solutions to your problems and is always around, so you never feel lonely or abandoned. "C'mon! Smile for me!" You say as you move to sit on his lap.

It's an innocent gesture, unlike what anyone would think, and Akaza understand that you want, need, the physical contact as he moves his arms to hold you in a more stable way. "C'mon 'flakes, say something!" He only looks at you for a while, not having idea what to say, or to do, besides embrace you close. It's a bit scary to not know what to do with you, because you do need help even if you don't want to accept it. Help that he can't give. "I'm thinking." Is all the can mutter.

You are not fine with not being told what is happening, so you start to poke his cheek with your finger, making sounds effects when you do. Akaza still lets's you be, berely noticing when the finger is replaced by a knife, stabbing the side of his mouth, blade meeting his teeth and tongue with the metalic taste of blood and the weapon itself. He turns to see you as he heals. "Oops... my bad." You laugh nerviiusly as you put the knife away, and Akaza feels like he is about to cry at the loss. "It's ok. It doesn't really affect me." "like if affects on you", he doesn't say.

Douma:

"Y/N! Can I ask you a favor? I have a pretty lady in my room, could you go there and make me dinner while I finish speaking with a recent follower of mine?" You do, eager to prove that you can do it, eager to test a new item you made with materials Douma gave you, you want to show you appreciate it, that you can help. You just want to help. So you do, as much as you can, even if that includes killing an innocent woman. If you are affected by it or not, it's not your priority.

"Well, it's a bit messy here." He comments, you over did it, you can admit that, but it's not like Douma minds. On the contrary, he seems cheerful at it. "Not that I would left the place better, my killings are almost clean, but I am a messy eater." He sits besides you as you smirk and laugh "Oopsie." He only laughs with you as he picks up a piece of leg and takes a bite, blood splashing in his face, making you laugh louder. "So..." he starts after chewing a little, swallowing before he continues. "How was your day?"

You start to ramble about it, making jokes and comments, sharing the moments with Douma as he listens, or is very good pretending at the least. He is interactive, but a paranoid part wonders if it's because he grew up doing this, he knows how to react, but does he actually care? Still, you would not just stop coming to Douma, who is not only a good resource of... everything, honestly, but he is just great. He lets's you do as you want, makes sure to listen, you both can have fun together, gives you chances to prove yourself. Really, why would you dislike Douma? Because he is fake? New flash, not everyone is as honest as they like to pretend they are.

Douma finds you entertaining, odd and new, exciting. He understand that you are both weird, that you should have been in a way that was not the same results as expected. Something is wrong with you, just like something is wrong with every demon he has met, himself included. Maybe one day he can turn you into one, would be hell of a demon lady, might even reach the Kizuki system. But those are thoughts, right now he is pretending he can help you, when honestly, nobody can. "Oh, really? Tell me more."

Kokushibou:

Kokushibou doesn't know what to do with you, rambling and using objects as toys, he thinks you as childish. It doesn't help the fact that you are sensitive, getting upset quite easily, but hiding it most of the time. Not that he would like to be responsible for your feelings, he can barely deal with his, so both of you shutting them down seems good enough. "Shi-Bobo! How've ya been! Missed me?" Urg, and the nickname. Seriously, he doesn't even know if you mean it as "death-eye-eye" or "death-moo-moo", why are you calling him that?

"It's not appropriate to call me that." Is the only thing he says, ignoring his question asn you walk around him playfully, slowly and gracefully before suddenly jumping on hin, graving yourself by his shoulders as you put a knife in his throat. Is it even a nichirin one? "C'mon, give a girl a break. It's always "blah blah blah rules! Blah blah etiquette! Blah bla blo-bloring-boring!" Say something fun for once!" His answer? Silence.

"Urg! You are so boring." You put the knife away, losing interest due the lack of reaction. Is it really too much to want something to happen? Something fun! A distraction from... ya know... everything. You really like Kokushibou, he is pretty and elegant, sometimes shy, which makes him easy to mess with. Other times he is just stoic, reacting at nothing, so you always have different buttons to press. So you move around him again before suddenly cutting one leg of his hakama pants and a little bit os skin. He didn't dodge due the surprise and the fact you didn't really hurt him... well, his pride is hurt with a leg exposed.

"What is wrong with you?!" He almost screams, almost, as he raises his voice and face becomes red ah he looks bashed and angry at you at the same time, you didn't know that mix was possible before him. "Awww. Is Shi-Bobo embarrased that his leg got exposed? Is he afraid to be grabbed by it? Big strong demon not liking the attention?" He reaches his sword, genuinely questioning if he should draw it out and slain you. He takes a few breaths, calming down, clearly flustered as you keep talking, not bothering with the fact he is doing his best to ignore you, but then.... "Run or I will end you." Some seconds of silence before you laugh and start running. "Sure, let's play tag! You're it!" He really doesn't know why he bothers to try with you. Really.

[fantastic-nonsense]

thinking about Martin Luther King Jr.'s "Letter from a Birmingham Jail" today for absolutely no reason at all:

I must make two honest confessions to you, my Christian and Jewish brothers.

First, I must confess that over the past few years I have been gravely disappointed with the white moderate. I have almost reached the regrettable conclusion that the Negro's great stumbling block in his stride toward freedom is not the White Citizen's Counciler or the Ku Klux Klanner, but the white moderate, who is more devoted to "order" than to justice; who prefers a negative peace which is the absence of tension to a positive peace which is the presence of justice; who constantly says: "I agree with you in the goal you seek, but I cannot agree with your methods of direct action"; who paternalistically believes he can set the timetable for another man's freedom; who lives by a mythical concept of time and who constantly advises the Negro to wait for a "more convenient season." Shallow understanding from people of good will is more frustrating than absolute misunderstanding from people of ill will. Lukewarm acceptance is much more bewildering than outright rejection.

I had hoped that the white moderate would understand that law and order exist for the purpose of establishing justice and that when they fail in this purpose they become the dangerously structured dams that block the flow of social progress. I had hoped that the white moderate would understand that the present tension in the South is a necessary phase of the transition from an obnoxious negative peace, in which the Negro passively accepted his unjust plight, to a substantive and positive peace, in which all men will respect the dignity and worth of human personality.

Actually, we who engage in nonviolent direct action are not the creators of tension. We merely bring to the surface the hidden tension that is already alive. We bring it out in the open, where it can be seen and dealt with. Like a boil that can never be cured so long as it is covered up but must be opened with all its ugliness to the natural medicines of air and light, injustice must be exposed, with all the tension its exposure creates, to the light of human conscience and the air of national opinion before it can be cured.

.........I had also hoped that the white moderate would reject the myth concerning time in relation to the struggle for freedom. I have just received a letter from a white brother in Texas. He writes: "All Christians know that the colored people will receive equal rights eventually, but it is possible that you are in too great a religious hurry. It has taken Christianity almost two thousand years to accomplish what it has. The teachings of Christ take time to come to earth."

Such an attitude stems from a tragic misconception of time, from the strangely irrational notion that there is something in the very flow of time that will inevitably cure all ills. Actually, time itself is neutral; it can be used either destructively or constructively. More and more I feel that the people of ill will have used time much more effectively than have the people of good will. We will have to repent in this generation not merely for the hateful words and actions of the bad people but for the appalling silence of the good people.

Human progress never rolls in on wheels of inevitability; it comes through the tireless efforts of men willing to be co workers with God, and without this hard work, time itself becomes an ally of the forces of social stagnation. We must use time creatively, in the knowledge that the time is always ripe to do right. Now is the time to make real the promise of democracy and transform our pending national elegy into a creative psalm of brotherhood. Now is the time to lift our national policy from the quicksand of racial injustice to the solid rock of human dignity.

[lovesick-feelin]

i might just keep sending these cos theres so many wonderful ones

willex, 34?

Oh my lord this got away from me I am SO sorry. (I'm not sorry, though, because I had so much fun writing this. Like, wow.) I will get to the other prompts as soon as possible but in the meantime enjoy almost 3k of literally just fluff.

This started as a cute scene in the studio and turned into a study on Willie's obsession with Alex's hands and then suddenly it was a love confession. Oops.

Prompt me! | Read on AO3

=

The first time it happens, Willie chalks it up to nerves.

Alex is new to the whole ghost thing, Willie reasons. He might not still be super comfortable phasing through doors like it’s nothing. It’s been forty years since Willie had any sort of pulse, but he knows it would be pounding right now as he puts on a casual front, swinging his arm forward and then back to grab Alex’s hand.

Alex jumps like he’s been shocked with static electricity, eyes flying down to their joined hands and then back up to Willie’s face. He doesn’t pull away, though, and the tension that appeared in his shoulders is gone as quick as it arrived, and then he smiles, so Willie knows he’s good.

They’ve hung out three or four times since they first met on Sunset Boulevard, and Willie has decided he’s starting a catalogue of Alex’s smiles; this one is new. It’s shyer than the “Grateful You’re Answering My Questions” smile Willie got on the bench, not touched with laughter like the “Oh, This One Time” smile Alex uses when he tells stories about his bandmates. This one is startled, a little awkward, but soft and open, and Willie has a good feeling in his chest that Alex doesn’t share this smile with a lot of people.

Willie knows that if he lets himself keep staring at it, though, it’ll become the “Kissed Right Off My Face” smile, so he tears his eyes away from Alex and tugs them both into the museum, never letting go of his hand.

Somehow they’ve moved from palms clasped to fingers interlocked in the five seconds before they jumped through the doors, and Willie can feel the rough drumstick calluses on Alex’s palms and fingers, some edged with torn skin and others worn to permanence with the passage of time, all now permanently affixed in whatever state they were in when Alex died. There’s a large one right on the pad of Alex’s thumb that keeps brushing over the back of Willie’s hand, smaller ones tucked into the insides of his knuckles, and Willie wants to memorize all of them, all these little reminders that Alex bled and breathed and played music and was alive.

Willie kind of wants to never let go of Alex’s hand ever, but he didn’t drag Alex to this empty museum just to be weird and hold his hand, and Willie’s already caught sight of three different potential jumps that look just sick enough to impress the cute boy to his left, so it’s with some reluctance that he releases his grip on Alex to put his helmet on and cruise the gallery.

Willie finds himself tracing the smooth lines of his own palm later, after Alex leaves, remembering how the calluses felt against his palms and the way Alex gripped his hand, hesitant at first but then with intention, like even if Willie hadn’t grabbed his hand, Alex would have wanted him to.

=

When Willie grabs Alex’s hand at the Hollywood Ghost Club to help launch him over the tables and onto the dance floor, there’s that same initial shock that flies through Alex’s body, but it’s gone too fast for Willie to even be conscious of it, swept away by the adrenaline of the music and the way Alex is smiling at him, looking alive. This is the closest Willie has to any sort of home turf in the afterlife, and Alex is here, eyes lit up under the glow of the stage lights. Willie wants to take the memory of Alex’s face when he got up to dance and etch it frame for frame in stone: Alex’s tongue pressed against the side of his cheek, the way his bandmates cheered and jostled his shoulders but Alex’s eyes stayed on Willie the entire time. Willie didn’t know his cheeks could flush anymore, doesn’t know how it’s possible, but Alex sends him reeling that way, pink and warm and like he’s glowing.

Willie squeezes their hands together briefly, finding the callus on Alex’s thumb and sweeping his touch over it quickly enough to make it seem like an accident, and he swears he hears Alex’s breath catch above the roar of the music, their eyes meeting like an electric charge.

Luke and Reggie find themselves swept away by dance partners right away, and Willie’s just summoning up the courage to grab Alex and show him all the partner dances he knows when a lifer in a steel gray ball gown asks him for directions, and Willie has to show her to the stairs. He ducks and weaves his way through the crowd, laughing with delight as he watches Maya shred on the piano, and then Caleb catches his eye with a flashing grin and jerks his thumb towards the dance floor.

And there’s Alex, being twirled around by Dante, feet flying, and his smile is wide and startled and Willie wants to be the recipient of it so bad it aches. Fuego appears out of nowhere to catch Alex by his other hand, and Willie finds himself bowled over by a wave of ice cold envy, that anyone else should be granted the privilege of Alex’s touch without earning it.

Alex catches his eye and brightens like a fucking sun, beckoning Willie onto the dance floor, but the dancers twirl everywhere and everyone wants to touch Alex and Willie is in stupid, hopeless, maybe-love after knowing this boy for two weeks and it’s all too much, threatening to knock him over, so Willie tries to salvage what’s left of his crumbling foundations and bolts.

=

Willie doesn’t get to hold his hand again until suddenly it might be for the last time ever.

Everything is too fast, too sudden, and Willie doesn’t even get the chance to stop Alex from backing away before suddenly he’s sweeping forward and clutching onto Willie’s shoulders like he’s a buoy in a violent storm. Willie’s brain catches up after a moment. He buries his face in Alex’s neck and Alex smells like springtime, peony and cucumber and rainwater, like things waking up and coming back to life. Willie holds him like a lifeline, like hope of resurrection, and tries not to think about going back to the way things were before, trying to exist around the gaping maw Alex created when he crashed into Willie’s afterlife.

When they pull apart, it's out of some kind of necessity that Willie twines their fingers together. Alex tenses but doesn’t flinch, and Willie wants to ask about it, would ask about it if they had the time they deserved, but they don’t, because the universe is cruel and Willie is selfish and unthinking and so, so in love, and so he doesn’t ask and he settles for squeezing Alex’s hand one more time, memorizing every callus as if the phantom sensation of their hands intertwined might lead him to some sort of healing.

“I’ll see you around, Hot Dog,” Willie says just to watch the blush of indignance color Alex’s cheeks one more time before he forces himself to drop Alex’s hand and skate down the block out of sight. I would have still followed you, Alex had told him on the back of that couch in the Orpheum, face open and vulnerable, the closest he’ll ever come to a confession of what lay between them, and Willie has to force himself not to look back. If Alex could take Willie’s hand and tug him to the other side of whatever limbo this is the way Willie tugged him through those museum doors, Willie would follow him too, because he’d follow Alex anywhere. It just seems like fate has other plans.

=

It turns out, Willie thinks later, standing in the late night dark of the museum with Alex’s callused hands cradling his jaw and their foreheads pressed together, bathed in an impossible golden glow, that fate might just know what she’s doing.

=

“Why do you always do that?”

“Huh?” Alex looks up from the sheet music he’s studying, something Luke had shoved into his hands as he sprinted out of the garage that was just too good for Alex not to read right now. Julie is at school and Luke is with Reggie scoping out new venues for the afternoon, so they’ve got the studio to themselves, the concrete floors bathed in sunlight that turns Alex’s floppy hair to gold. He’s wearing Willie’s favorite shirt, the olive green Bowie one, and his jacket has been abandoned to the back of a chair. Willie is definitely not ogling his arms.

Willie holds up their joined hands before letting them fall again to rest between them on the couch. “Whenever I grab your hand. You, uh, you always flinch a little.”

Alex blinks, setting the sheet music down and suddenly looking self conscious enough that Willie almost regrets saying anything. “Oh. I didn’t realize I was doing it.”

“I didn’t think you did,” Willie says easily, shifting his body to face Alex fully and tucking his feet up underneath him. “Everything okay? We don’t, um,” he continues, fumbling over his words, “if you don’t, like, like holding hands, we don’t have to --”

“No, no, no!” Alex cuts him off quickly. “I like it. Like, a lot. We don’t have to stop.”

“Oh.” Willie knows his face is as pink as Alex’s hoodie. “Good. That’s - that’s good.”

Alex shrugs. “I don’t know why I flinch. Just embarrassed, I guess.”

Here Willie has to pause. “Embarrassed?”

“I guess.”

“About what?”

Alex shrugs awkwardly, bringing his socked feet up onto the couch to hug his knees, their joined hands still tucked between them. “I’ve just always been weird about my hands,” he says, staring at his free hand, Luke’s sheet music forgotten. “I have all those ugly calluses. You know, from my drumsticks. Never liked them.”

Willie can’t help the giggle that bursts out of him, and Alex’s eyes fly to his face. “What?” he asks, mouth quirking up in what Willie’s now categorized as his “I Don’t Know What’s Going On But You’re Cute” smile, and Willie hums.

“Just ironic,” he muses, bringing Alex’s hand up to hold in both of his. “I’ve always loved your calluses.”

It’s Alex’s turn to blush. Willie earns himself a “Museum Date” smile and high-fives himself internally. “Really?” Alex asks, and Willie nods earnestly, turning Alex’s hand over to rest palm up in the cradle of his hands.

“Honestly, man? I’m, like, kind of obsessed with them.” He skims the lightest of touches over the small calluses tucked in the creases of Alex’s fingers and revels in the soft gasp Alex lets out. “Like, you loved something so much,” Willie murmurs, smoothing his thumb over a large one on Alex’s palm below his pointer finger, “that it tethered itself to your soul. Calluses are, like, proof of that passion. You were alive, and you loved this.” Willie reaches with his other hand and traces the edges of the callus on Alex’s thumb. “Even when it hurt you.”

He looks up and Alex is so still in the afternoon sunlight, like he’s suspended in amber. He’s so gorgeous it hurts. “I never thought of it like that,” Alex manages, voice hoarse, and Willie nods, suddenly finding that he can’t speak at all. He brings Alex’s hand up and presses his lips to the pad of his thumb, the seam of his mouth meeting the center of the time-hardened scar. Alex looks like he might faint.

“You really like them,” he breathes, and Willie nods again, not breaking eye contact as he moves, pressing feather-light kisses to the calluses on Alex’s fingers and palm.

“I really like you,” he answers, pulling Alex closer still to kiss the nonexistent pulse on the soft inside of Alex’s wrist. If Willie’s heart still beat it would be pounding out of his chest. Alex goes so easily, like clay in Willie’s hands, and it’s so easy for Willie to take his other hand and draw Alex’s legs out flat on the couch, all guardedness abandoned. Willie slides into his lap, knowing full well that he isn’t fooling anyone, that Alex can feel the way Willie’s breath stutters as he trails kisses to the crook of Alex’s elbow. Alex’s hand falls to the dip of Willie’s waist, the hem of the tie-dye crop slipping up so that Alex’s palm is pressed fully against the bare skin there, and it’s a crime how well it fits, like it was supposed to rest there, like nature intended it.

“I like your hands,” Willie murmurs, and he knows he couldn’t control the words spilling out of his mouth right now even if he wanted to. “I like holding them. I like the way the calluses feel on my palms.” He presses a kiss to Alex’s upper arm where the sleeve of his shirt meets skin, and when he drops it Alex’s other hand flies automatically to the small of Willie’s back, anchoring him like a magnet. Willie meets his gaze and Alex’s pupils are blown wide, eyes so blue Willie could drown in them, and his hands. Willie feels like he’s on fire everywhere Alex is touching him and somehow it isn’t enough.

“I like how steady they get when you play the drums,” Willie hums, steadying himself with two hands on Alex’s chest and dropping a kiss to his shoulder. “I like watching. I love,” and here he kisses Alex’s exposed collarbone, revels in the catch of his breath, “when you twirl your drumsticks. So easy, like you’re not even trying.”

Willie noses up and kisses the curve of Alex’s neck. Alex’s grip tightens on Willie’s waist, head tilting pliantly to the side to give him easier access. “Willie,” he breathes, but he doesn’t need to say anything else. Willie knows.

“I love it when you hold me,” he murmurs, still trailing kisses up Alex’s neck. “I love your hands on my waist, and my back, and my shoulders.” He mouths at Alex’s stupidly perfect jawline, kissing the corner. “I love your hands on my face when you kiss me.” Another kiss pressed to Alex’s cheekbone, just by his ear. “I love when they’re in my hair.”

Alex inhales sharply and then the hand on Willie’s back is skating up to thread itself in his hair, always so careful and gentle and intentional, even now, when Willie’s got him completely undone. Their foreheads are pressed together, breath mingling in the space between them, and Willie kisses Alex’s cheek again, each corner of his mouth, the lightest touch to his cupid’s bow, and the words that have sat inside of him since that day on Sunset Boulevard and maybe since the universe was created, well, they don’t seem so heavy anymore.

“I love your hands,” Willie breathes, everything around them impossibly still, “because I love you. If you can believe it.”

The shaky sigh that Alex lets out is audible, almost a cry, and then he’s kissing Willie, using the hand in his hair to guide the tilt of their heads and slotting their lips together so perfectly that Willie kind of wants to cry. He steadies himself with an arm on the back of the couch and reaches with his other hand for Alex’s arm. Without breaking the kiss Willie guides Alex’s other hand to cup his face, wrapping his own hand around Alex’s wrist and losing himself in the easy give and take of kissing this boy. This boy, who loved Willie so fiercely that he saved his soul, whose touch unravels him like spun sugar, who Willie could spend an eternity with. He will, if Alex will let him, and Willie just thinks he might.

They separate just enough to breathe, eyes closed and foreheads touching. Willie blinks his eyes open first, slowly, and the sight of Alex right there, flushed and radiant and gorgeous, is enough to knock the wind out of Willie’s lungs. He drops his hand from Alex’s wrist to reach up and brush some of the hair off of his forehead, pressing a kiss to his hairline. Alex hums, leaning into the touch, skating his thumb over Willie’s cheekbone before dropping his hand back to the dip of his waist.

“Wow,” Willie says quietly, the first to really break the silence, and Alex huffs out a quiet laugh. He runs his fingers gently through Willie’s hair all the way to the ends, lets his head flop back on the arm of the couch, blue eyes warm and his smile easy and open, and he’s the most beautiful, devastating thing Willie has ever seen.

“I love you too,” Alex says hoarsely, and then clears his throat. “By the way,” he adds, and there’s the rest of the Alex that Willie knows, always a little anxious but never unsure. Willie’s helpless to do anything but lean in and kiss him again, because he loves him. Golden, gentle, awkward, beautiful Alex, who loves Willie so intentionally, who guarded his heart so carefully even when it had already given itself away, who sees Willie for all his mistakes and jagged edges and broken parts and loves him for all of it, on purpose, but still worried over the calluses on his palms as if they made him anything less than perfect.

Alex kisses him back and Willie’s heart sings, and it feels just a little bit like forever.

[suffering-and-happy-about-it]

An Unexpected Visitor (Sriracha, Part 40.)

Series description: A problematic college student gets the worst summer job of the ‘83 - Jim Hopper, the Chief of police in your hometown will have you as his secretary since his old lady Flo has two months lasting holiday. It was agreed so Hopper could keep you far away from all the trouble.

Part Summary: Early fall of ‘85. Everything seemed to be going just great - you were married, in love, almost finished with with your university studies, you had your baby back in your home and had some exciting news... Which was why someone had took you by a surprise.

A/N: I am honestly having so much fun, sksksks.

Word count: 3.1K

Tagging:  @nemodoren, @missdictatorme, @ysljordy, @creedslove​, @hopperlover, @btchsm, @rita-lean

Master list: H E R E

Series playlist: Jim Hopper 😠

You gave yourself three more days to accommodate to the new situation. It could be just the post-ceremony stress you were experiencing, right? Jim, as the good soul he was in his core, prepared you some breakfast the following morning, bringing it to your bed. It was obvious what you'll be doing that day since he took a day off and Eleven was staying at your mom's. James jokingly said that no-one will see you for the week following the wedding and look at that, he wasn't wrong.

As time went on, it was more and more obvious that something isn't completely in check with you. Whether it was the fact that almost every morning, you spent at least ten minutes with the feeling of being sick or the fact that you were capable of giving Jim a long lecture just because he didn't take off his shoes as soon as he got in. He was jokingly saying that you put your wife mode pretty early and you, as well, chuckled at that. Not knowing what to think about all of that.

The holiday in Maine suddenly wasn't such a good idea as you thought it would be. It was supposed to be your honeymoon and a family holiday at once since your budget wasn't exactly the highest. You were supposed to visit some ultra-romantic location for three days with Jim and spend a week at Joyce's.

Yet a week before the trip itself, you decided that you want to keep the voucher from Joyce for later, sticking to the kids and Joyce for the whole ten days. Hopper sure was caught off guard with that since you were all over the place for the romantic weekend when Joyce gave you the voucher as a wedding gift, yet he didn't protest at all.

You chose Steve as your co-driver to take a short break from being with Hopper all the damn time and to savor those sweet moments on the gas station. A few years, the kids would be disgusted to see you being touchy-feely with each other. You remembered them grinning every time they were visiting your pace and Jim came home, automatically receiving a smooch and a hug for you. Now, they just turned away and talked about stuff. And also, you didn't want him to see you hyperventilating into a paper bag once vomit comes to your throat again.

Steve, on the other hand, kept you busy while he was driving or even if you were sitting behind the steering wheel. He was choosing some nice jams to sing along with kids, or you played some games like word soccer to keep you, Lucas, Dustin, and Nancy busy. Or, when the car was quiet for too long, Nancy would think of a word, letting you guess what she's thinking about. You chose a good bunch for the car ride. Robin, since she couldn't sit on any of the backseats, was mostly hiding in the trunk of Steve’s car and occasionally, she changed with one of the children.

When you were in the middle, changing with Steve, Hopper asked Nancy if she would drive at least for an hour or so because he needed some rest. She nodded, which meant that you got Mike into your car instead of Nancy - Wheeler for a Wheeler, as Dustin had said. Of course that Jim also couldn't see these two snuggling constantly, that was why he asked you to take Mike to your car.

Even if you were locked up with all of these psychos for a good portion of ten days, the vacation couldn't be better. You visited many places, went to a beach to swim and watched movies in the evenings.

"You don't look healthy. Is everything okay back there?" - Joyce asked worriedly when you, her, and Nancy were preparing some peanut butter sandwiches. You shot your gaze at Nancy, but... Who on earth would this girl tell about your sickness?

"That sounds like you're worried if my grumpy old husband..." - You told her loud enough to hear Hopper chuckle from watching the movie. - "It just came across that you think he's beating me. That's not the case, don't worry."

"Hopper beating you?" - Joyce burst out with laughter, looking at Nance who was also grinning. - "You'd sooner kicked his bottom than him even getting to beat you. No, I mean, are you okay? Since the wedding, you had lost a lot of weight and your hair also looks different. And you seem to be tired all the time since you arrived."

"And let's not forget about your morning trips to the bathroom. It's a miracle that El or Hopper didn't notice yet since you're not exactly discreet about it." - Nancy added from cutting the edges. It maybe came off as a rude comment, but it wasnt meant as one. Both of the women were just worried.

"Maybe it's just the nerves, as Robin said." - You tried to shake it off with a nervous smile and you mixed Dustin and Will’s hot cocoa they ordered. At that, both of the ladies looked at you with a face knowing something you didn't.

"What would Hopper say about another child? Have you talked about that?" - Joyce asked pretty blatantly, looking at the peanut butter jar innocently. You weren't exactly surprised that this was their main concern. It crossed your mind too. What if you were pregnant? Just theoretically? There were a few occasions where you nor James were exactly careful with what you were doing in the bed, especially when he came back from the dead.

A long exhale of yours was more than a thousand words. But when you saw Joyce's shocked face, you shook your head immediately. - "I mean, yeah, I theoretically asked him once or twice if having children is something he would still be up to, but his answer... I don't know, gals, it was... He didn't exactly say no, but he wasn’t jumping around with excitement either."

"See?" - Joyce asked fenced with the butter knife in her hand, having her duh face on. - "He's opened to it, and that is the best you'll get out of Hopper. He wasnt too excited about seeing you at the begging either, don't you think?" - She poked fun of you a bit, having Nancy smile as well. - "And now he proclaims it the best idea he ever had." - She walked up to you, hugging one of your sides, Nancy joining on the other side.

"We’ll be here if you'd need some help, okay?" - Nancy whispered. No matter what, the idea of being an auntie made both the ladies smile. And you as a mom? You hadn't a problem with getting Eleven and the children gange under your thumb, what would the difference with your baby be?

Yet you felt kinda nervous when you gave all of the food and drinks to the kids, sitting beside Hopper. Someone started the movie, but the man couldn't look away from you. - "Why are you staring at me? I thought that this phase is way beyond us." - You accused him jokingly, laying down on the couch to watch The Breakfast Club, which was chosen by the girls for the night. Other nights, you watched movies like The Planet of Apes or Star Trek, so it was a fine compromise. Or ’halfway happy’ as Jim and Eleven called it.

"You're not lookin’ good is what I wanted to say." - Hopper chuckled, watching your mouth open wide. - "I mean, you don't usually look this ugly, so I'm just worried." - Jim finished, teasing the living hell out of you. With a smile, you kissed him, feeling the familiar scratch of a beard on your face. - "Shut up and watch the damn movie, James." - You chuckled, getting into a good position.

You fell asleep on the couch in the middle of the movie, both of you. So even if it was Dustin and Mike’s sleeping place, they decided to sleep in the garden in a tent with Steve and Robin, who were telling them scary stories the whole night. You knew that because around three a.m., back pain waked you up and as soon as you got up, Hopper had conquered the whole couch by himself.

When you went to sit on the terrace with a cup of cocoa too, Steve was still sitting there by a fireplace, looking into it while the rest was dead asleep at that time. These lumberjack slumbers had to be heard miles away. The summer air was colder in the area since you were pretty close to the sea, which was nice.

"Some ghosts on your mind, huh?" - You whispered into Steve's ear after sneaking up on him, freaking him the hell out. With a chuckle, you sat down next to him, pulling your sweatshirt closer. Steve took a sip out of your mug without asking and you let him, watching the flames too.

"Can't fall asleep for a reason. You?" - Steve answered the question, looking at the profile of your face. - "Back pain and Hopper being spread all over the couch. Since I got married, I feel like an old lady with all these back pains and late-night waking up." - You chuckled back at the comment about you feeling old.

Yeah. Steve was just three or so years younger, yet the differences between you and him were undeniable. You were married, possibly pregnant, a mother, almost a college graduate with a psychology diploma, and an adult responsible for a man like James Hopper while Steve was just trying to figure out who he even was. He was single, he was still living with his parents and had a job at a video rental. You both were adults now but in different ways.

"It weirdly suits both of you. I am like... No expert, but you feel right together. Jesus, do you remember when I kissed you when we were playing that hide in seek?" - Steve asked embarrassed, looking at you. At that memory, you started to laugh with him, nodding. - "And I how I have shot the basketball ball into your forehead? You had a concussion or something." - You told him back, having him laughing as well.

"Mom was not letting me see the two of you for the next two weeks. She said that you're too dangerous to be friends with." - Steve smiled and then, suddenly you both slipped into your childhood memories once more. He was making you laugh the whole night. You got back to the couch by six in the morning. - "Where were you?" - Jim asked sleepily once you shoved him off your half of the couch. You didn’t answer him, you simply kissed him without saying a word. Oh, what fun making Jim quiet that night it was.

The other day, Robin, Jonathan, Steve, and Hopper planned some kind of a quest for the kids and no matter how adult they were trying to be, they were happy when the four adults told them. And what a better day to spend with your ladies than peeing on sticks, am I right?

"So, does it like have two strips or one strip?" - Joyce asked through the door, looking at the instructions she got at the pharmacy. She was confused as hell, but she wasnt willing to say it out loud. At that moment, you opened up the door, walking out, having three different pee sticks in your hand. - "Do I look like a gynecologist to you, Joyce?" - You asked ironically, putting them on a paper towel so you could all have a good look at what was in front of you.

The only thing Nancy did was that she opened up her mouth unbelievably, Joyce copying her actions within a second. Only you stood there, not knowing what the hell is going on. - "So, it's negative, right?" - You asked with a peal of horrified laughter only being the single thing you were capable of. And you almost fainted when both of them shook their heads in complete sync.

"All three are positive. So... Congratulations?" - Nancy whispered, still looking at the three pregnancy test in front of you. You, my friend, felt that you were in deep shit since that moment. It was your last day in Maine and the other day, Steve was driving you home again. The whole ride, you were quiet, looking out of the window. When Steve wanted to turn off Baba O’Riley, you stopped his hand by catching it, letting it play. The song was somehow translating to your situation with the lyrics like We’re all wasted and Don’t cry. You were feeling like crying.

Any other girl your age would be fine with it. Well, not fine, but they would somehow accept it. Yet you had a lot to think about. Should you let this one dream go? Should you get rid of the baby before Jim gets to know? What would his reaction even be? Jesus, you weren't that scared ever before. But you couldn't bring yourself to tell him nor to for that abortion. The only thing you did was visiting a doctor to confirm the news. It was too late to let the baby go anyway. The doctor could see you tearing up when they told you... - "Congratulations, you're going to be a mom."

A loud ring bell woke you up from your slumber. Jesus, you weren't ready to go to the hospital as a children psychologist that day. You lower back hurt, you were growling, your tummy was in immersive pain. You were getting real pregnant since the day it was confirmed. Maybe it was time to tell Jim and Eleven - but there was nothing sure until the end of month three, so there was no way telling them beforehand. Your mom knew and she almost went crazy with happiness. Yet the rest, no, you didn't consider it appropriate to tell them just yet.

You were in so much stress, as your doctor said, that you should wait before telling the others the news. There was no wonder - your fucking husband was a stressor at his best, Eleven was now at school in Hawkins, which didn't quite help and your new job as a psychologist in the local hospital was quite a burden too. You wouldn't be even able to finish the semester in time, probably, yet you already told your lector about the situation, thinking about taking something called a pregnancy break or whatever, starting the final semester again after you'd give birth. You'd also had a full right to continue studying while having a child home, taking the exams, and other things.

It wasn’t a big problem since the same man had you under his wings since 1983 and he was still friends with your parents. You already started to work on it with the man - first, you had to prove that you're pregnant for real with some report from your doctor, which you have already done. It was more chill than you'd ever say - you could ask for prolonging your studies without having to pay fees or whatever, but you didn't want to freak yourself out too early about being a real mom and... There was much to talk about.

Nonetheless, even in your first trimester, you felt super-pregnant, super huge and it was a wonder that you somehow covered the constant vomiting. It wasnt happening at that moment mostly, yet when it did, your whole dinner usually ended up in the toilet. You cussed as you ran the stairs down. Jesus, you were gassy as a living fuck. Holy damn. You farted on every step you took and when you needed to burb, well, that was something as well. And you were better at these activities than the boys or even your husband.

"I'm coming! I'm coming, just wait a minute, Jesus!" - You yelled at the door, supporting your lower back with your hand, the other one holding the railing. No-one was at home. Jim was at work and El was with her friends outside, probably having some milkshakes at Murphy’s. You still loved that place and you visited it frequently to talk with Ada and you other co-workers or just to have something ultra-unhealthy there with your family.

When you opened up the door, you felt like if you've run a marathon before that. You still had your palm on your lower back when you smiled at the persons who were ringing. It was a tall woman with a boy standing next to her, smiling at you with a surprise in her face. She expected Jim to open up the door. Instead of her ex-husband, it was a girl who was maybe half his age with a golden ring on her left hand.

"My name’s Y/N Hopper. I'm so sorry I didn't hear you ringing before, I was sleeping." - You smiled at the woman pleasantly, knowing that you've seen her before already. And the boy was just super cute. She nodded and took the sight of you once again. - "What are you looking for? Can I help you?" - You asked, inviting them in for a cup of coffee. Maybe it was the former owner of the house? That was where you knew her from?

"Oh, I'm just looking for James Hopper? His secretary told me he lives here?" - The woman asked while you started to prepare the cattle. She was looking around your kitchen, especially on Sara’s pictures on the walls while her boy wandered off to explore the living room.

"Yeah, he should be home every minute now. Do you and Jim know each other?" - You asked with a smile, making her choose between tea and coffee. She decided to have a coffee.

"My name’s Diane. I'm Jim’s ex-wife." - She told you, and when she did, the mug fell out of your palm, breaking into small pieces. You opened up your mouth, picking everything up before the boy would come there and cut himself. So that was where you knew her from. Jim’s old photos. Of course. - "And I need to talk to James as soon as possible."

[grownups-are-the-real-monsters]

This is what it looks like when I try.

Summary: (Modern AU - They’re all about 25 in this)  Lucy could only nod her head solemnly because--‘what the hell did a person say to the woman who’d just attempted to steal her boyfriend and had spent the last month undermining her under the façade of friendship??’ {A Jolene AU} 

Fandoms: The Stand 

Ships: Larry Underwood/Lucy Swann

Word Count: 3,298 

Last year Larry Underwood had seen his first real relationship crash and burn.  

January began with him stuck in the ‘Otto’s’ Gas station for an extra hour after his shift. Cleaning after closing sucked. 

The curse of being too jovial led his co-worker to hoping he could cover for him. Normally, he’d say no but Redman was a nice guy and it allowed Larry to sit and wonder if the new year would suck the life out of him too.

For the time being Larry’s only friend in the world was the Otto’s mascot; a large blow-mold like 3-D sign staring down at the only non-24/7 station in town. Otto the Orange Soda Bottle’s floating glove gripped the gas-pump nozzle with a sickly grin. He was just about the only boy in the college town that didn’t go bat-shit for the fizzy fruit that mixed well with plenty of acholic beverages.

Larry was passing time by staring up at Otto through the glass when a gentle tap alarmed him. A familiar dark haired woman stood at the doors. “Are you open, Larry?” She waved her hand in hello. Larry wanted to criticize her for missing all of their obvious ‘closed’ signs but found no energy.

“Closed.” He strolled over with an annoyed frown.

The woman, Nadine Cross, nodded like she knew her luck was shot. She seemed severely committed to her bit. 

“Shit. Don’t know that I can make it to another station.” She pointed a sharp thumb back towards the lone car by pump number four. Larry stood atop his tip-toes to observe the dark vehicle. He glanced back at Nadine, unsure if he wanted to make conversation with a girl who’d broken up with him (‘If you could even call it that’) in September. 

Sure, they’d remained semi-friends since the split but Larry found the whole thing to be strained. For a while there, he was still in love with her and she didn’t seem to care...running around with some new guy. 

But then he’d met Lucy Swann and suddenly he didn’t really give a shit what Nadine was doing. 

“I’ll see what I can do.” He tapped the glass in a half-finished pattern as a goodbye, see-ya later thing but about not until about halfway to the phone did the girl decide to tap back; finishing the jingle for a neighboring carpet joint. It was vaguely odd.

Mr. Felder, Alan Felder, advised Larry to help one last dollar if the kid was truly stranded. It occurred to Larry that Nadine could be faking...he turned back with the phone under his ear. "A little strange but she’s not threatening.”

He smiled at Nadine through the glass.

He got the go ahead to switch on the pumps, let the girl do her business and leave. But that all rested on the fact that Nadine was actually there for gas...

Most likely, she wasn’t. 

But Larry still strolled on over, unlocked the door and let Cross inside with a hesitant smirk on his face. She sauntered over to stand next to the row of air-fresheners and looked nothing short of pleased with Larry’s confusion. “Having a good night?” 

New Car Scent twitched on it’s metal rod as she flicked it absent-mindedly and Larry thought he could smell a hint of the blue tree. “Trust that my night’s been shitty.” He shook his head, passing by her violent presence at the forest of little trees to go back to his counter. “And it seems like it's only gonna get worse.” 

Nadine wasn’t phased. Her brutal personality seemed to be locked in the trunk while the jewel toned one had her hands on the wheel. “Always negative.” Her eyes rolled around like glass marbles. Her attention then moved towards the overflowing aisle of snacks, feet carefully maneuvering against the tile as if walking a tightrope. “Maybe I just wanted to talk, Larry.” 

“Oh yeah, What about?” He asked, unimpressed by her show of grace under the ‘Any size for just $1′ sign. 

“Us.” Clarifying Larry’s worst fear, Nadine’s busy eyes still blinked ‘No Vacancy’. For there was nothing different that he could spot, the woman had no room available for a partner just the same as she didn’t last month when they broke it off. 

“Can’t you be a normal person and just imagine this conversation happening in your head before you go to sleep?” Larry flicked his lighter open and pictured their last true conversation which had taken place on the curb outside of her house. Thank God she’d been getting rid of an ugly yellow couch at the time or else his ass might’ve froze to the concrete. 

“Mmmm.” Acknowledged but with no appreciation, Nadine moved closer. 

And Larry stepped back even further. He could almost see her November breath in the air. “Isn’t this all a little too high school, Nadine?”

She slammed her hand down on the counter. “Oh, trust you to invalidate my feelings.” Her scowl deepened but it didn’t intimidate him any. She slammed her palm to her forehead and grimly sighed. “Can’t I just come to you and say-” 

Larry hopped onto the stool behind him and leaned onto his knees. 

“Maybe I made a mistake, ok?” 

“Honestly, Nadine.” He felt his chest tighten as he sat up again. “You come to me with this now-?” A laugh escaped. “You look right through Lucy-”

Nadine dropped any sense of her previous gloom. “Lucy? Sorry to break up your ‘happy home’, Larry-”

“She’s my girl, Nadine.” The flat, serious tone coming from him seemed to jerk the woman into further rage. “I never seemed to have a real shot with you anyway and I made my peace with that.” 

“So maybe you didn’t then but now-” Nadine looked towards the freezers and swallowed softly. 

“Now, I have Lucy. Best thing to ever happen to me, Nadine-”

“Bullshit!” She burst, surprising herself. “She’s not for you.” Her heart nearly leapt from her chest. “You’re just living out some damn idyllic fantasy but it’s not gonna last, Larry! You’re not that kind of guy!” She broke to breathe. “You’re-...complicated and...” Nadine slowed to a pause, feeling ridiculous but desperate. 

Larry, who’d shared quite a few screaming matches with her previously, didn’t seem phased at all. “For a minute of my life, Nadine-a couple months, I thought I knew who you were. But I didn’t.” He shrugged. “And I am really fucking complicated. you got that right. But that’s about all you do know.” His eyes widened briefly. 

Nadine deflated a bit on her spot. 

“It took me about all my life, so far, to figure out that I could be a damn nice guy if I stopped wasting it being bitter at the world and thinking I was the shit. And you...” He gestured to her with a vague emptiness. “You came along and you were everything I wanted in a girl.” Larry shrugged, taking his hand away. “You were happier back then, Nadine. But our relationship obviously couldn’t sustain that for you.” Larry was sort of proud of that statement.

“How wise of you, Larry.” She was close to growling but her chest was nearly breaking from the pressure of her quick beating heart. She sniffled pathetically, in her eyes at least, and rolled her lips together. “I think you could make me happy now...” 

Larry softened a bit. “I’m sorry, Nadine but you wouldn’t make me happy.”

Nadine just about wanted to die. 

                              ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

‘Don’t cry. Hold it in until you get to the car...take a deep breath-Oh fuck it..’

The soft rattling of the car keys breaking the strained silence of the night was what kept Lucy Swann’s composure. It was almost a metal heartbeat that she could silently count in her head to fuzz her focus away from tears-because Hell, she’d seen people do that shit in movies.

On beat twelve she burst into tears. Curling her aching body over the steering wheel she’d used to accidentally run over four orange cones during her drivers test. 

On beat sixteen she choked on the rush of air which flooded her lungs from a ‘relaxing’ deep breath. 

And on beat twenty...she stopped counting. Letting out horrible sobs that almost seemed to take up space in her tiny jeep. With every damn move she made, her ears rang because it was all...fucked.

Hissing to herself, Lucy sucked down her snot like a congested child and wiped her palms over her cheeks. Her vision blurred but her mind kept focused. It played scenes over and over like a stuck television. She swore she could hear the static but pushed that sickening illusion away while ripping her body up and to the right against the force of her seatbelt. 

Slowly she gave the car a little gas and--

Hard knocks of a fist ricocheted off the driver’s side window and Lucy nearly slammed down on the gas instead of the brake. “FUCK!” Her hands, shaking from anger, reached down to shift back to park. That was all the consideration she paid the damn blue jeep. Lucy grasped the door handle and shot herself clear from the seat and ignored the way the door clipped her skin when she closed it. 

“Jesus, Nadine?” Her eyes burned directly into the center of her chest, unable to meet her line of sight. But Nadine didn’t seem to hold that against her. No...because Nadine Cross was an infuriatingly clever angel. “What are you doing here? Did you want to talk to me about something?” She half-laughed. 

Nadine sloshed her feet in a puddle. “Seems like that, Luce. Sorry for catching you at a weird time. Were you-?” A smiled played at her lips before she thinned them out again. 

Lucy raised a brow at the nickname but continued shaking her hair out of a ponytail while Nadine shifted her feet into first position. She felt a reluctance to answer or to even bring up her boyfriend’s name in present company.  

“I was just on my way to Larry’s.” She gave in. 

“Judging by the tears...” Nadine vaguely gestured to Lucy’s puffed and red cheeks. “I can only assume he told you that I went over to Otto’s last night.” 

Lucy could only nod her head solemnly because--‘what the hell did a person say to the woman who’d just attempted to steal her boyfriend and had spent the last month undermining her under the façade of friendship??’ 

“We fought about it a bit...yeah.” She rubbed behind her ear, regretting being so openly vulnerable just then. “He wants to be your friend Nadine. But that’s all. And I just got a bit upset because...nevermind, it’s not important.” She shook her head. “I want to get along-I do.” Suddenly she couldn’t help but focus on the fact that she could still hear the radio in the Jeep. 

“I want that too.” Nadine moved with a grace that Lucy wished deeply to have. Her smile was big, more lip than teeth and strangely enticing. 

Frustration ignited in Lucy and traveled like fire through her veins. Her own ‘just being nice’ smile cracked, the left side breaking and sliding down her cheek...giving her a hysterical expression. “Do you?” She blurred an image of herself in her bathroom mirror from that afternoon over Nadine’s perfect figure as she stepped closer. “Because It didn’t seem like that last night.”

Nadine blinked, face twitching slightly and Lucy thought something was coming through before she came to believe she’d just guessed correctly now. 

“Why can’t we just...be friends?” She threw her arms out and slapped them down sharply at her thighs. “Sure, this charming civil charade is fun for you but no me, ok?” 

“I-...” Nadine opened her pouty mouth but clamped it down quickly. “I don’t know, Lucy. I wish I could tell you something, ok? But-” She pathetically waved her arm back. 

Lucy took the moment to softly walk over and finally look the woman in the eyes, a shy expression, not quite happy or sad, came over her face. “At odds or not...I’d listen to you if you wanted to talk about something.” 

Like a flickering flame, Nadine’s whole aura changed. “I have nothing to talk about, Lucy.” 

A road was blocked. Maybe permanently. 

Lucy backed off. “Well I do, Nadine.” She couldn’t help but laugh a little now as the anger bubbled up her throat again. “Perfect Nadine Cross.” She hummed, thinking of the brutal beauty which graced her presence now and the delicate voice that she spoke with.  

“Nobody said I was perfect, Lucy.” She said smartly. 

The burst of frustration felt like a migraine behind Lucy’s eyes. Her face scrunched up before easing into a glare. “Nobody has to.” She gaped her mouth in defeat, lifting her arm to vaguely gesture to the girl. “You’re everything I’m not...and you know what? I was crying because maybe I’m still afraid he might leave me for you!” Her footsteps were light against the pebbles as she wobbled back over. “Larry was in love with you.” Another shrug. “And worst of all, you’re the one who ended it all.” 

Her eyes narrowed. “But do you at least have the decency to leave him alone after walking away?” The question & it’s obvious answer hung in the air between them for a few minutes.

Nadine pursed her lips...thinking of the bandit, the heartbreaker & the trusted stranger who’d swept her away from Larry Underwood’s way of living. Randall Flagg was gone...but the tears shed for him were purely argumentative. 

Lucy’s eyes drowned in desperation. “Nadine...I love him.” She tripped over those words but it only enhanced the honesty behind them. “He’s a good man. I have faith--I do--that his love for me is stronger than what he still...” 

A small puff of fresh air sprang through Nadine’s lungs. “He still has-?”

Lucy’s eyes rolled instantly. “Of course. And I won’t hold that against him, Nadine.” She bit into her lip. “But how is he supposed to grow...to move on when you keep coming round with your leash and collar, huh?” 

Nadine’s strange, beautiful eyes flickered with emotion. For a horrible second, she appeared to be amused. Scaring every bit of strength out of Lucy Swann before her mouth thinned out again. 

“I’m tired of being scared that you’ll take him away from me.” She found her last bit of words and decided to run with them. “So please...I’m asking you to please accept us and move on...because I can’t love anybody else.” 

‘Neither can I...’ Nadine was faced with the proof just some time ago. And here now, was life giving her another reason to curse Jesus for being a Cross-maker.

Her fingers twitched, wanting maybe to reach out for Lucy’s...to ask for something she didn’t deserve but wanted. Earnestly and with a deep ache in her belly, Nadine wanted friendship. But what intruded her mind like an uninvited guest...thoughts of Larry. And how easy it might be to-with one hand stab Lucy in the back and the other choke the life outta Flagg who’d said love was only meant for the two of them. “I’m trying.” She choked out, looking off to avoid her-...Lucy’s reaction.  

Which was close to floored. She opened her mouth but Nadine found some sort of stream had burst. 

“This is what that looks like for me now, Lucy. It’s a fucked system.” Her throat burned and kept her words hot. “Don’t you think I’d like to move on-?” She choked herself up a little, pushing her nails into her bottom lip. “I try...I try to be a good person, Lucy but then...” Quickly swiping a tear from her cheek, she snorted down some mucus. “My mind just plays these awful scenes and I feel like they’re inevitable." Pausing, she took in her audience. 

Lucy Swann looked genuinely concerned. 

“I can’t explain it and really this is a tangent I didn’t plan to go on.” Nadine got the same feeling which usually came when she attempted to sleep off a headache. 

“How do you jump ship when it’s already sunk? Is that the kind of feeling?” Lucy came closer once more, holding out a hand as it began to drizzle. 

The tears burst suddenly and despite Nadine’s embarrassment and restrain, she took the hand and was pulled into a comforting hug. She wanted to scream and cry more than she wanted to be alive. Lucy was nearly knocked off her feet but managed to keep them both up, leaning back on her Jeep. 

For a strange moment, Lucy Swann wrapped her arms around Nadine Cross and rubbed circles onto her back. 

                             ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hey! I’m here-” 

Lucy barely had time to even think about finishing that sentence before Larry burst into his living room with a proud expression. “I made you dinner.” He sauntered over with a smirk. Lucy smelled his cologne and couldn’t help but lean into his chest and allow herself to be lead into his kitchen. 

“Red Bull and Cup of noodles?” She giggled as she shrugged out of her flannel. The priceless look of joy that Larry shined was far too contagious. “Oh, I love you.” 

“I love you too, Luce.” He gently pressed a kiss to her temple but didn’t pull away. Instead, he pressed his nose against her hair and took in a long breath to chase the scent of fresh linen that was just so Lucy. “You know that, Lucy?” 

Anxiety raced through her veins as memories of bowling on Sunday nights and flashing neon signs fled her mind. All she wanted was to be pulled deeper into her boyfriends arms but she stepped out of his strong arms. “I do. But...I know you still love Nadine too.” 

Larry stepped back as if he’d been slapped. “Oh, Lucy.” He started, reproachfully. Behind his eyes came visions of that September afternoon. That damn yellow couch and Nadine Cross dumping him like garbage on the curb. 

His gorgeous lover smiled sadly. “Maybe you gave her your heart and she stomped on it but Lord knows--” She turned her cheek and sighed “You have mine to fill that void.” 

His arms goosefleshed. So he reached out, gently cupped his palms under her elbows and shook her just a bit. “Don’t talk crazy, sweetheart.” His voice was steady and warm in her ears. Slowly, he pushed her arms up to wrap them around his neck and pushed their foreheads together. “Who’s the girl I sing about, huh?” 

Lucy chuckled, lips turning up in a smile despite the sad tone. “Me?” She opened one eye with a cheeky smirk. 

Larry laughed madly and rubbed their noses together. “And who’s the girl I want to fuckin’ marry?” 

When she stepped out of his arms then, the lowering sun was beginning to shower his living room with stunning hues of pink-golds. Her heart was beating so fast that she felt close to fainting. “Larry Underwood...are you serious?” 

His smirk resembled the famed Elvis Presley’s. “I can’t imagine lovin’ anybody else for the rest of my life.” He chuckled, an image of the man he’d been when Lucy first met him flashed in her head. He’d grown a lot since then. 

“How quick can those tears dry, baby-?” He swiped his thumb against her cheek and attempted to hide the slight stutter in his voice. “Cause seeing them is breaking my heart.” 

Lucy rolled her eyes with a gleaming grin. “So charming.” She mocked, passing him by and bumping her hip into his on the way to the kitchen. “Come eat dinner with me, you idiot.” 

Neither of them had ever been happier. 

[eileensdaughter-blog]

Every person has experienced or will experience life-changing days. No one is exempt. Loss is a tax on loving.

These are the mornings when we wake up as normal, have the coffee, walk the dog, go to work or school-- and then the phone call comes and life is forever altered because a loved one is absolutely gone. The unexpected ones are the most surreal. Early May six years ago I was attending an in-service with a bunch of strangers when a friend sent a text for me to call her. I left the room and went to my office and closed the door. "I'm so sorry, but Norm passed away." 

And that was that. I dabbed my eyes and went back to the in-service. The news comes in as bare fact, like a push notification. "Everything is going to be different now, just letting you know." In the meantime, I had to make it through the day. Norm was my counselor and meditation teacher; not a family member, so I couldn't just leave work. I had to shelter in place and breathe in the fact of his passing while the instructor rambled on. I had a staff meeting two hours later, and had to go over to Eileen's after work. Things weren't going to change much today. Just how different life would be after this day-- I had no idea. 

First there was the ugly sobbing phase, which frightened my dog. She would skulk from the room and later I would find her in the narrow space between the bed and the wall. Then there was the "Why is everyone acting so normal?" phase. Then there was the all-day-tear-leaking phase, my personal favorite. Next was the brain fog phase, the I-can't-get-out-of-bed phase, and the "oh my god don't make me interact with people" phase. The only successful therapeutic relationship of my life was over and the most compassionate, objective person I had ever known was gone. That kind of intimacy is not very common. I might forget everything we ever talked about. Depression, grief's second cousin, came for an extended visit, settling in and redecorating my interior.

Several weeks into my grief I met with the EAP counselor from work. Grieving was oozing into every corner of my life. The poor girl wasn't helpful. She validated the difficulty of my situation and confessed that she had just graduated from college and never lost a loved one. I couldn't fault her for being honest but I had to get the beast by the reins or else my life was really going to fall apart. She handed me a print out of the Kubler-Ross stages of grief and I threw it out the car window on my way to get a pedicure. 

My new normal was a trudging circle of days. My concentration was shot, I could hardly do my meditations, I felt like fighting with everyone and simple requests felt like weighty demands. My prayers were mechanical. Attempts to help others were bungled. Functions of my job were bungled. Relationships with co workers were getting bungled. The only thing I wanted to do was watch Deadwood reruns and I was tired every moment. I knew I had to seek momentum. I couldn't just sit, even though I knew this was one time in my life where it was better to take no action at all and just let grief run it's course. I didn't have the luxury to surrender to grief but fighting it made it harder.

Now, years later, I can't single out a day or a moment when I felt a genuine smile bubble up to my face and realize that I was out of the acute phase. Life simply went on. Some conclusions I am allowed to draw about grief are that it is complex, exhausting and highly subjective. I experienced it as an altered state of consciousness: reduced self awareness followed by reduced awareness of my environment. I was unavailable; unable to be reached for comment.

The universe works in mysterious ways, says the adage. It is true. Grief hasn't made me any stronger. Grieving Norm was unpredictable and I was powerless over it. It gave me another layer of contrast and depth as well as a frame of reference for major loss.

I did dream about Norm a few weeks into the grief. He was teaching from his bed like Socrates in David's painting. It was one of those gifts from beyond, filling me with a comforting sense of the infinite. The week he passed away, in meditation, I heard him ask me: "Why words?" It was almost as loud as a shout. My immediate reply was: "Why not words? Why anything?"

With a smile in his voice he would have responded: "Good work, Sweetie."

[too-strange-for-earth]

Memories (4-?)

Parings: steve Harrington x reader, Jim hopper x daughter! reader, nancy wheeler x platonic! reader, Jonathon Byers x platonic! reader. (Future Billy Hargrove x platonic!reader)

Masterlist

Prompt list

(1)-(2)-(3)-(5)-(6)

tags: @bandsandanimefreak @fortheloveoflamp @naomiiiiiiiiiii04 @addictwithaheavydirtycheetah

warnings: bad writing, all over the place, Russians, language, going off canon.

(y/n): your name

(y/n/n): your nickname

(y/h/c): your hair color

(y/e/c): your eye color

---

(Y/N) was a smart girl, she picked up Russian in a matter of weeks, learned how to act sick to get more food, and was able to escape through a crappy planned ventilation system. Although it sounded easy, there was a trick; sneak out of the cell, take out one of the guards, take their uniform, act like one of them, and learn what the hell that scream was from. Of course with her luck, the base she was located at was in the mountains, fuck. 

As she walked quickly across the halls trying to look through any and all cells to find out who or what that scream was from. She was hoping with every fibre in her body it was just another cellmate and not what she dealt with in the past two years. She came across a giant cell with high ceilings and electric bars she saw it, that grey slimy beast with countless rows of teeth that caused her to have night terrors. That awful creature made by the devil himself to torture Will and Elven.  No wonder they were in the mountains... but if this thing was here then that meant that they have a gate open. ‘Shit, h-how could this happen?’ She saw it closed! She has to get out of here. It took her a few months to get enough money for one plane ticket. She has to tell the others. She was too worried about telling her friends and family she forgot that it's been a year since they've seen her.

She has changed a lot since Hawkins, she has seen gruesome things happen to innocent people. When she got on the plane she started to think about her dad ‘has he been okay? is he taking care of El?’ as her mind wondered she thought of Steve ‘did he move on? Did he find someone to take my place? Did he forget about me?’ of course she shouldn't be mad if he did move on, they all thought she was dead, but that didn’t stop the raging fire festering in her.

-

At this point in (Y/N)’s life, she is no longer phased by anything out of the ordinary. She fought weird alien-like creatures, almost died, has a sister with superpowers, been captured by Russians, best friends with children, and now sitting in the basement of her best friends house being pelted with questions.

“So you're telling me that the Russians, the big ugly guys, Alexie’s co-workers, took you right as that machine was destroyed?” Hopper being frustrated was an understatement. He was furious, not at his daughter, but the things she had to deal with, with the Russians taking her away. “Yeah, but that's not what we should be worrying about. They have a gate in the mountains in one of their bases. The Demogorgon is back” Steve was pacing around the room not even bothering to look at El, Hopper, or even (y/n). 

Steve should be worried that there is another Demogorgon on the planet, but his mind was occupied with the thoughts of ‘has she moved on?’ It was a silly thought. “Steve, I know you love (y/n) and all but now is the time to make a strategy if they come back to Hawkins,” Max said looking at the boy who finally looked up. “How do we know that they'll come back to Hawkins?” Steve said looking at (y/n) with sunken eyes. 

“We don't. But we still need to be prepared. While I was there I found that it was very difficult to keep the Demogorgon alive, sure it was below freezing, but it didn't have a strong enough power source there. Only Hawkins does, they've tried opening gates in other areas of America but they didn't work correctly. If I am correct, and I usually am, the gate has a strong magnetic field that can change compasses north as well as demagnetize anything. In that area, there was no demagnetization, nor did the compasses change.” The girl said looking at Dustin, Lucas, Mike, El, and Will. Ignoring the looks from Steve, she saw his date that night, she was pretty; completely different from herself. She was jealous but now is not the time.  

“You have dealt with this before, is there any way that the Demogorgon can feed off of electricity or anything that's not meat?” she said as the five kids looked at each other. “I'm not sure... it could be possible. In the upsidedown, there weren't any animals at all, but then again it's interdimensional. But there was some power, the lights would flicker but that's it.” Joyce said as Hopper sighed. 

“Whatever it is, I'm not having you go back out there and fight it.” He pointed a finger at his eldest. “Dad it was one year. I survived one year without supervision also have you forgotten that we fought a literal meat monster that would not fucking die!” She glared at her father. 

“I agree with your dad on this (y/n/n), we already lost you once. I don't want to lose you again.” Steve said pleading with the girl whos looks could kill. “oh really? Well, Steven, apparently you didn’t lose much did you?” It was wrong to be angry at him, it was stupid. Yet she felt betrayed, did he even try to look for her? Did he even wait to move on?

“What does that mean?” El whispered to Max. The young girl shook her head and mouthed later. The tension in the room was unbearable, side glances from the kids, Joyce and Hopper silently talking amongst themselves.

“If you want to continue this conversation I’d advise it to be private. After all we have worse matters to deal with.” Jim finally broke the awkward silence. It was heart breaking to see Steve’s eyes flash from relief to sadness, and to see (y/n)’s turn from happiness to betrayed. The couple has had fights before, but they were petty fights going from “you are my last ice cream sandwich” to “that’s not how you play the game” but this was much worse. It wasn’t because of some silly popsicle, it was about trust.

“Well if you excuse me, I’m going home to sleep.” She tried to walk away before Mike ran infront of her, blocking her path to the stairs. “You can’t just waltz out of here! People think your dead! And not just the “got lost in the woods” type of dead! It’s been a year with no sign of you coming back until two days ago.” He had a point. This wasn’t like two years ago where they could convince everyone to think Will got lost in the woods for a month.

“I’ll pull my truck around and you can sneak in that way.” Her father said walking past her. “Kids, I think we should leave (y/n/n) and Steve alone so they can catch up.” Those were the first things Robin has said all day. Probably in shock from all of this. She didn’t know (y/n) that well, but she did think of her as a friend.

As everyone was leaving El slipped Steve the ring he gave her a year ago. (y/n) turned to face Steve, unsure what to call him. “So you saw me at the movies” he scratched his neck awkwardly as she stood infront of him with crossed arms. “Sure did.” She said shortly.

“Ya know I-I didn’t stop looking for you until this month, I never forgot you. I mean hell I never stopped loving you.” He sighed as she rolled her eyes trying to hold back tears. “Then why did you move on?” She asked softly. “I didn’t, I never did. She asked me to go to the movies and Dustin kicked me out of his house the minute I told him.” He walked towards her slowly, hopping she won’t move away. “I was lonely Steve, there were times I- where I thought I would die.” She finally broke, sobs pouring out of her lips as he embraced her.

“There wasn’t a day where I didn’t watch your family tapes, I’m pretty sure Hopper is tired of me going to his house for dinner every night and falling asleep watching those videos” he laughed sadly rubbing her back. She laughed at the thought of him passed out on the couch.

“Hey! Don’t laugh at that! It’s pathetic!” He scolded pulling away from her as she looked at him. “Oh so loving me is pathetic now?” She teased, a glint of mischief in her eyes as a smirk played on her lips. “Never.” He smiled at her. They were both close enough where their breaths mingled, one inch closer and they’d be kissing. They were moving closer together about to kiss when El walked in the room.

“Dads ready.” She smiled to herself when she saw the two jump apart as blush spread across their faces.

(Part 5)

[archiefm]

         ... claws my way up from hell once more and vomits onto the dash.... hello. its nora. i used to write rory bergstrom, but if u were here before that u might remember me as greta or alma putnam or..... som1 else.... an endless carousel of trash children..... this is finn, who i actually wrote for an early version of this rp abt 5yrs back now...... grits teeth..... so forgive me if im rusty i havent written him in a long time but seein honey boy gave me a lotta finn muse n im keen to get Back On The Horse yeehaww...

DYLAN O’BRIEN / CIS-MALE — don’t look now, but is that finn o’callaghan i see? the 25 year old criminology and forensic studies student is in their graduate year of study year and he is a rochester alum. i hear they can be judicious, adroit, morose and cynical, so maybe keep that in mind. i bet he will make a name for themselves living off-campus. ( nora. 24. gmt. she/her )

shakes my tin can a humble pinterest, ma’am....

finn has a bio pasted at the bottom (n written in like.... 2015.... gross) but it’s long  so if u don’t wanna read it here’s the sparknotes summary..... anyway this was written years ago n a lot of it seems really cliche and lame now but..... we accept the trash we think we deserve

grumpy, ugly sweater wearing, tech-savvy grandpa

very dry sense of humour and embraces nihilism. 

if ron swanson and april ludgate had a baby it would be finn

he was raised in derry, just south of dublin.

from a big family. elder sister called sinead. he also has a younger sister (aoife), a younger brother (colm), and a collie named lassie because his father lovs cliches (finn hates cliches but loves his dog). 

his father was a pub landlord and his mother worked at the market sellin fruit n veg when they met but got a job as a medical receptionist when she had kids cos it meant she cld be there with them in the day and work nights.

his parents met when they were p young and fiesty and rushed into marriage cos they were catholic n just wanted to have sex. his family were literally dirt-poor, but they had a lot of love i guess

hmmmmm his relationship w his father wasn’t the best cos i can’t write character who have healthy relationships w their parents throws up a peace sign. yh, had a pretty emotionally distant, alcoholic violent father n so gets a lot of his bad habits i.e. drinking as a coping mechanism and poor anger management from him BUT anyway

as a kid he was never very motivated in class, he always had a nervous itch to be off somewhere doing something else. struggled under government austerity bcso there just wasn’t the resources to support low income families where the kids had learning difficulties n needed support. fuck the tories am i right 

his mum suggested he try sports to help w his restless energy but he was never any good at football so he took up boxing and tap dance instead. he took to tap dancing like a fish to fuckin water. as adhd n found this as a really good way to use his excess energy in a creative way

had a few run ins with the police in his early teens for spray painting and graffiti, but he straightened himself out n now actually considering becoming a detective inspector??? cops are pigs.

he had a youtube channel where he posted videos of him tapdancing and breakdancing as a kid, basically would be a tiktok boy nowadays, n had like... a small fanbase in his early teens. attended several open auditions unsuccessfully, until he was finally cast in billy eliot when he was fifteen.

during billy eliot he began dating an italian dancer called nina. they became dance partners soon after and toured across the republic with various different shows (inc riverdance lol the classic irish stereotype). their relationship was p toxic tbh, they were both very hot tempered people and just used to argue and fight all the time.

he went semi-pro at tap dancing, and nina couldn’t stand being second best so she moved back to italy with her family. ignored his texts, phone calls, etc, eventually he was driven to the point where he used his savings to buy a plane ticket, showed up at her house and she was like wtf?? freaked out and filed a restraining order accusing him of stalking.

he was fined for harassment and then returned home to derry, but after the incident with nina he quit dancing for good and finished his leaving cert before heading to university in the US to get as far away from nina and his past life as poss. and basically since he quit dancing to study forensics (death kink. finn cant get enough of that morgue. just walks around sayin beat u) he’s become a massive grump and jsut doesn’t see the good in people any more.

u’ll find finn in an old man bar drinking whiskey bc he is in fact an old man at heart or sat on his roof smoking a joint, drawing wolves and lions and skeletons and shit, playing call of duty or getting blazed or at the corner of the room in a house party ignoring everyone and scrolling through twitter. is a massive e-boy. always up-to-date on memes and internet slang. has reddit as an app on his phone

not very good at communication. rather than solve his issues by talking, he’d prefer to just solve them through fighting or running away from his problems hence why he has come halfway across the world to get away from an issue which probs cld have been solved w a few apology emails.

takes a lot to phase him, but when his beserk button gets pressed he can become a bit pugnacious like an angry lil rottweiler. in his undergrad he was in a few fist fights but doesn’t really do tht any more as he doesn’t condone violence.

 in the previous version of this rp he was hospitalised like 5 times. pls, give my son a break. stop tryin to kill him. he literaly got a bottle smashed over his head and bled out all over his favourite angora rug that was the only light of his life

works at the campus coffee shop n always whines about how he’s a slave to capitalism. always smells of coffee

lives off campus with an elderly woman named Marianne, and basically gets reduced rent bcos he makes her dinner / keeps her company. they have a great bond

fan of karl marx. v big on socialism

insomniac with chronic nosebleeds

cynical about everything. too much of a fight club character 4 his own good n has his head up tyler durden’s sphincter

always confused or annoyed

statistics

basic information

full name: finnegan seamus o'callaghan nickname(s): finn age: 25 astrological sign: aries hometown: derry, ireland occupation: phd student / former street entertainer fatal flaw: cynicism positives: self-reliant, street smart, relaxed, intelligent, spontaneous, brave, independent, reliable, trustworthy, loyal. negatives: hostile, impulsive, stubborn, brooding, pugnacious, untrusting, cynical, enigmatic, reserved.

physical

colouring: medium hair colour: dark brown, almost black eye colour: brown height: 5’9” weight: 69kg build: tall, athletic voice: subtle irish accent, low, smooth. dominant hand: left scar(s): one on the left side of his ribs from a knife wound that he doesn’t remember getting cos he was drunk distinguishing marks: freckles, tattoo of a wolf howling at a moon allergies: pollen and the full spectrum of human emotion alcohol tolerance: high drunken behaviour: he becomes friendlier, far more conversational than when sober, flirtier, and generally more self-confident.

psychological

dreams/goals: self-fulfilment, travel the globe, experience life in its most alive and technicoloured version, make documentary films, help the vulnerable in society, grow as a human being.

skills: jack-of-all-trades, very fast runner, good at thieving things, talented tap dancer, good in crisis situations, dab-hand at mechanics, musically-intelligent, can throw a mean right hook and very capable of defending himself, can roll a cigarette, memorises quotes and passages of literature with ease, can light a match with his teeth.

likes: the smell of the earth after rain, poetry, cigarettes, shakespeare, whiskey, tattoos, travelling, ac/dc, deep conversations, leather jackets, open spaces, the smell of petrol, early noughties ‘emo phase’ anthems.

dislikes:  the government, parties, rules, donald trump, children, apple products, weddings, people in general, small talk, dependency, loneliness, pop music, public transport, justin timberlake, uncertainty.fears: fear itself, drowning alignment: true neutral mbti: istp – “while their mechanical tendencies can make them appear simple at a glance, istps are actually quite enigmatic. friendly but very private, calm but suddenly spontaneous, extremely curious but unable to stay focused on formal studies, istp personalities can be a challenge to predict, even by their friends and loved ones. istps can seem very loyal and steady for a while, but they tend to build up a store of impulsive energy that explodes without warning, taking their interests in bold new directions.” (via 16personalities.com)

full bio (lame as fuck written years ago..... pleathe...)

tw homophobia

born in quigley’s pub on the backstreets of sunny dublin, young finnegan o'callaghan was thrown kicking and screaming into the rowdy suburbs of irish drinking culture. the son of a landlord and a fishwife, he never had much in the way of earnings, but there was never a dull moment in his lively estate, where asbo’s thrived, but community spirit conquered. at school, finn was pegged as lazy and unmotivated, though truly his dyslexia made it hard for the boy to learn in the same environment of his peers and only made him more closed-off in class. struggling with anger management, finn moved from school to school, unable to fit the cookie-cutter mould that school enforced on him, though whilst academic studies were of little interest to the boy, he soon found his true passions lay in recreational activities. immersed into the joys of sport from as young as four, finn was an ardent munster fan and anticipated nothing more than the day he could finally fit into his brother’s old pair of rugby boots.

his calling finally came unexpectedly, not in the form of rugger, but through dance. to learn to express himself in a non-academic way, he began tap dancing, finding therapy in the beat of his soles against the cracked kitchen tiles (much to his mother’s disgrace). it wasn’t a conscious choice, finn just realised one day that dance was something that made him feel. a king of the streets, finn made his fortune on those cobbled pavements – dancing and drawing to earn his keep. by default, finn became a street artist, each penny he earned from his chalk drawings saved in a jam jar towards buying his first pair of tap shoes. though many of his less-than-amiable neighbours called him a nancy and a gaybo, finn refused to quit at his somewhat ‘unconventional’ hobby, for the young scrapper found energy, life, and released anger through the rhythm of tap. soon he branched out into street dance, hip hop, break dancing, lyrical, his days spent smacking his scuffed feet against the broken patio into the night.

when he was thirteen he took up boxing, and as expected, his newfound ‘macho’ pastime conflicted with his dancing. the boxers called him ‘soft’; the dancers called him ‘inelegant’. he felt like two different people; having to choose between interests was like being handed a knife and asked to which half of himself he wished to cut away. he couldn’t afford professional training in dance, with most schools based in england and limited scholarships available. instead, he made the street his studio, racking up a small fanbase on youtube. when he was fifteen he made his debut in billy eliot at the olympia theatre in dublin. enter nina de souza, talented, beautiful and italian; ballet dancer, operatic singer, genius whiz kid, and spoiled brat. she was selfish, conceited, hell bent on getting her own way, and every director’s nightmare. finn fell for her like a house of cards. he’d always had a soft spot for girls who meant trouble. and so their hellish courtship began.

by the time they were seventeen, the two young swans had danced in every playhouse across the republic. they were known in theatres across the country for their tempestuous personalities, their raging arguments with one another, their tendency to drop out of shows altogether without any notice, yet the money kept rolling in and the audiences continued to grow. for three years, their families continued to put up with their hysterical fights followed by passionate reconciliations. he was too possessive, and she was too wild. their carcrash of a relationship finally came to a catastrophic halt when nina broke off the whole affair and returned to italy with her family. for months finn tried to contact her, yet his phone calls, texts, facebook messages were always ignored, until finally he was driven to drastic measures and used his savings to get a plane to her home town. when finn turned up uninvited at nina’s house she freaked out – and rightly so – she contacted her agent, accused him of stalking her, and had a restraining order placed against him. finn was arrested, held in a station overnight, and charged with harassment before he was allowed to return to dublin.

after the incident with nina, finn lost the fight in his eyes. he became far more hostile, far less likely to retaliate with his own fists, and picked fights not for the thrill of feeling his own fists pummel another into a wall, but for the sensation of his own brittle bones cracking. he dropped his tap shoes in a dumpster, stopped talking to his friends, followed his father’s advice and went back to school to complete his leaving certificate. a few short months later, and finn was packing his bags, saying his bittersweet goodbyes, and travelling half-way across the globe to be as far away as possible from his past self, his mess of a life, and most of all nina. it seemed somehow ironic that the boy who had been cautioned by the garda so much during his youth for spray painting, busking without a liscence, and raucous parties would become the grumpy, aloof overseas student studying a degree in criminology; that his once reckless spirit could be crushed so easily. 

of all things that finn could be called, straightforward would never be one of them. ever since his first days in atticus, the boy was pegged as hostile, hot-headed, cynical, rude. he seemed to spend more time in his thoughts than engaging in conversation. like a ticking time-bomb, finn’s anger was of the calm kind, liable to explode without a moment’s noticed. his unpredictable personality make him something of an enigma to those who aren’t amiable with the lad, though hostile as he may appear, he harvests a good heart. loyalty lies at the centre of his affections, and whilst his friends are few in number, he makes a lifelong partner. somewhere within finn, there’s still some fight left, but mostly he has recognised that his hedonistic lifestyle did little to leave him fulfilled – mostly, it just emptied him out – and over his three years at university has resigned himself to a nihilistic predicament.

        if u wanna plot with me pls pls pls im me or like this post!! i am always game for plots i love em so excited to write with you all here r some ideas

study buddies. finn is now a phd student so has to start takin shit seriously. he gon be in the library every day doing that independent study. if he had ppl who were also regular library goers n they get each other coffees to save time.... tht wld be sweet

ppl who love techno dj sets and going super hard on the weekends!!! fuck yea

friends with benefits. exes on bad terms. ppl he tried to date but couldnt because he’s always emotionally hung up on someone else. spicy hook up plots

ppl he met touring?? maybe ppl who were also in the entertainment industry..... anyone got a character who is ex circus hit me up

does anyone else study criminology / forensics / criminal psych / law? phd students sometimes lecture so he cld be an assistant lecturer / tutor if ur character is in a younger year

gamers !!! social recluses !!! hermits !!

finn goes to the skatepark and all the young boys there think he’s a gradnpa which he is! 

[thesportssoundoff]

“A very weird card for a very weird month” UFC Fight Night: Weidman vs Reyes Preview

Joey

October 14th, 2019

It's Octobr and the UFC's scheduling usually goes like this in my estimation:

Jan- New year, we're all excited, folks get injured, overpacked shows in December hurt the new year but we deal with it.

Feb- Injuries/cold means makeshift cards, people get mad.

March- Shows are a bit fatter, big title fights are coming around, people are excited.

April- The "set up" for the summer months, usually really good fight cards on paper with little to no name value.

May- Normally the "bad" PPV month, free events are good.

June- The last month before things get wild and wooly. PPV's tend to be damn good, free cards tend to be pretty balanced.

July- Everything has to be BIG so you get BIG PPV and then an event or two after the PPV that drag down the blocks average.

August- The end of the summer, injuries get heavy because of the seasonal change, focus is on prepping for November and December.

September- OH MY GOD EVERYBODY IS HURT! EVERYTHING IS REALLY WEIRD! THERE'S SO MUCH GOING ON!

October- The down month where they're scrapping and salvaging just to get to MSG. Shows are pretty much whatever they can put together without working too hard. Usually where they do some kind of weird Canadian card. The cards tend to bounce between "This is surprisingly good" and "I don't have the time or the energy for this".

November- IT'S MSG! IT'S LOADED! What about the rest of the month? Ah, okay then. Carry on.

December- The end of the year where they try to end with a bang. Normally a lot of drama, prep for 2020. We get fights announced for next year that usually top what we're being offered this year. Big PPV to end things on the right note.

This card is pretty much 100% October. You have a kind of weird but kinda good main event at the top of the bill, a really good yet weird co-main event under it, a really weird but kinda good HW fight and then a bunch of Northeast projects and prospects. If you remove the top three fights, finding the next good fight that is objectively good might depend on how you feel about Gillian Robertson vs Maycee Barber. Me personally I think you can do far, far worse than Barber vs Robertson and actually quite like the fight as a good test for Maycee Barber. After that? You have some highly touted prospects coming off losses (Manny Bermudez, Randy Costa, Boston Salmon), some guys off the Contenders Series trying to find their niche (Brendan Allen, Sean Woodson, Jonathan Pearce)  and a bunch of filler. It's kinda not bad filler though? Everything about this card is just weird, folks. Bare with.

Fights: 13

Debuts: Tanner Boser, Brendan Allen, Sean Woodson, Sean Brady, Diana Belbiţă, Ben Sosoli, Jonathan Pearce

Fight Changes/Injury Cancellations: (Zabit Magomedsharipov vs Calvin Kattar CANCELLED/Eric Spicely OUT, Kevin Holland IN vs Brendan Allen)

Headliners (fighters who have either main evented or co-main evented shows in the UFC): 5 (Greg Hardy, Jeremy Stephens, Yair Rodriguez, Chris Weidman, Joe Lauzon)

Fighters On Losing Streaks in the UFC: 1 (Joe Lauzon)

Fighters On Winning Streaks in the UFC: 6 (Dominick Reyes, Chris Weidman, Greg Hardy, Gillian Robertson, Maycee Barber, Kevin Holland)

Main Card Record Since Jan 1st 2017 (in the UFC): 24-15

Chris Weidman- 1-2 Dominick Reyes- 5-0 Jeremy Stephens- 3-3 (1 NC) Yair Rodriguez- 2-1 (1 NC) Greg Hardy- 2-1 Ben Sosoli- 0-0 Joe Lauzon- 1-3 Jonathan Pearce- 0-0 Gillian Robertson- 4-1 Maycee Barber- 2-0 Deron Winn- 1-0 Darren Stewart- 3-4

Fights By Weight Class (yearly number here):

Featherweight- 3 (52) Women’s Flyweight- 2 (31) Middleweight-  2 (40) Heavyweight- 2 (31) Welterweight- 1 (62) Light Heavyweight- 1 (39) Bantamweight- 1 (53)

Lightweight- (66) Women’s Strawweight- (26) Flyweight-  (15) Women’s Featherweight- (8) Women’s Bantamweight-  (18)

2019 Number Tracker

Debuting Fighters (33-55-1)- Tanner Boser, Brendan Allen, Sean Woodson, Sean Brady, Diana Belbiţă, Ben Sosoli, Jonathan Pearce

Short Notice Fighters (28-35)- Kevin Holland

Second Fight (52-34)- Randy Costa, Boston Salmon, Deron Winn

Cage Corrosion (Fighters who have not fought within a year of the date of the fight) (20-37-1)- Charles Rosa, Joe Lauzon, Daniel Spitz

Undefeated Fighters (35-37-2)- Dominick Reyes, Sean Woodson, Maycee Barber

Fighters with at least four fights in the UFC with 0 wins over competition still in the organization (11-8)-

Weight Class Jumpers (Fighters competing outside of the weight class of their last fight even if they’re returning BACK to their “normal weight class”) (29-20)- Chris Weidman, Manny Bermudez

Twelve Precarious Ponderings

1- Why is a New York vs New York fight taking place in Boston? I know that might not matter from a lot of folks but as the guy who grew up with boxers headlining in their home markets, this irks me.

2- I feel like this main event almost depends entirely on how you view Volkan Oezdemir as a fighter. The last time we saw Dom Reyes, he was given a really hard tough fight against Volkan Oezdemir in London. I don't think "robbery" is fair but I do think if you scored it for Volkan then you have a justifiable grumble about him losing that decision. What has gone under the radar is that Reyes did a tremendous job to adjust to what wasn't working and mix in more work to the body to keep it close and then the general rule of "win the third round, win the fight" wins out. I think there's no shame in a young prospect getting tested on his way up the ranks and managing to get by. You'd rather see warts now than in the middle of the first round of a title fight. Also Volkan Oezdemir is proving to be a pretty good quality 205er who even in his losses has moments of success. As such, I'm left to wonder if folks are a bit too harsh on a dude who iced Jared Cannonier, had no issues with OSP and remains the most exciting LONG TERM prospect at 205 lbs.

3- Is it too late for Chris Weidman? Despite the calls of folks to move up in weight, Weidman held off until seemingly all options were exhausted at 185 lbs. The fact of the matter and the unbearable truth is that Chris Weidman's style was based all on his durability and versatility simply fell apart when he needed it the most. He couldn't withstand the wars he was putting himself in at 185 lbs and his wrestling isn't as advertised anymore. At the same time, he still subbed Kelvin Gastelum, has a Hall of Fame worthy resume and enters a division where mid tier MWs are having breakout runs to title shots. Weidman can still crack, has a variety of offensive tools in his backpocket and in SPURTS he's still a good wrestler. Weidman's biggest problem for me as a wrestler has always been his lack of control once fights hit the turf but maybe cutting less weight will help. Then again Luke Rockhold didn't get much help in that regard either.

4- Here's how I'm beginning to feel about guys from 185 lbs going up to 205 lbs. If you're an athlete (Thiago Santos, even Anthony Smith to some degree) then it can work because the athletic barometer at 205 is better than HW but lowert han any other weight class. Guys who are fast at 185 lbs will remain fast at 205 lbs because that travels. They're also likely to hit a lot harder given the increase in weight. That said, if you're slow or clunky, no amount of weight cutting is going to fix that. Luke Rockhold simply looks and perhaps may just be a slow and clunky guy. Against Jan Blachowicz, he LOOKED like a heavier version of his usual self. What makes me worried about Chris Weidman and his chances at 205 lbs is that he's slow, clunky and kind of sort of broken. I don't think his body and his (lack of) speed will travel much at 205 lbs.

5- So who is hurt more by having to cut weight again for this fight, Yair or Jeremy Stephens? I kind of think it'll be Yair but I also saw him show up on two weeks notice to fist fight the Korean Zombie.

6- I really hope there's a chance, honestly and truthfully, that Joe Lauzon calls it quits win or lose. Lauzon feels like one of those guys who would be better suited in his personal life giving up the ghost and embracing the next phase.

7- This feels like the first real card to roll out the Contenders Series for season 3 so I'll break down who is whom and how they got here:

HW Ben Sosoli faces Greg Hardy- Sosoli is an Aussie kickboxer who made the MMA transition, fought on TUF and emerged on the DWCS in season 3. He had a "no contest" but was on his way to winning the fight before an eye poke (by him) ended the fight. Sosoli is being brought in to have a slugfest with Hardy.

LW Jon Pearce has a pretty crazy story. He was in a coma after getting jumped by somebody at his gym after hours. He recovered and fights like every southeastern dude who has ever fought in the UFC; basically scrapping when he wants to and wrestling out of trouble when he has to. I would say "He's the kind of guy who can give Joe Lauzon trouble" but I think at this point anybody with a working pulse gives him trouble.

FW Sean Woodson is REAL interesting. He took on a super prospect in his DWCS fight and struggled with the consistent wrestling----then he hit one of the cooler flying knees ever and scored a walk off second round KO. Dana even admitted that his finish was TOO good to not get signed despite the concerns he had about his wrestling.

MW Brendan Allen is your yearly "LFA has a middleweight champ and we gotta sign him" guy. He's accomplished-ish at 12-3 with some losses to good competition (Anthony Hernandez and Eryk Anders are both having solid runs). He's a violent kinda dude but I think he's a step below Ian Heinisch and Anthony Hernandez IE: he's kinda sketchy.

8- Boston Salmon was a really hyped L(R)FA prospect, the kind of guy who the UFC normally signs before he's ready and rushes out there. Salmon won on the DWCS in Season One and disappeared, re-emerging this year before losing in ugly fashion in his first fight with the organization. We've detailed here how badly debuting fighters struggle but also how much better they do in their second go around. Of course the same could be said for his opponent Boston Salmon. I guess win or lose, I think Salmon's going to look worlds better than he did in his debut. It couldn't in theory have looked much worse?

9- I wish I knew about Molly McCann's opponent so I could somewhat excited about her fight upcoming. Diana Belbita lost to Ariana Lipski who Molly McCann beat so....I dunno dudes.

10- I wonder how many fighters people would know off of this main card. 4 or 5 tops? Manny Bermudez, Molly McCann, Kevin Holland  and then?

11- So let's talk about Kevin Holland briefly, shall we? Holland's UFC run has been weird to say the least. Holland debuted on short notice against THIAGO SANTOS (!), took all of Santos' best offense and somehow lived to tell the tale about it. In large part, Holland's ability to just talk copious amounts of shit no matter the circumstance endeared him to UFC fans and supporters. In the end, Holland got his best opportunity and since then the UFC has taken it slow and steady with him. Holland has wins over John Phillips, Gerald Meerschaert and most recently a close decision win over Alessio Di Chirico. Holland's rep as an action fighter is overstated (as is most of his game) but to go 3-1 in the UFC under any circumstances is pretty solid. He's the sort of guy who doesn't like to work too hard theoretically but lacks the middle ground to carry himself beyond that point. Yet he's so gifted, long and determined that he tends to be able to get by doing the bare minimum. Brendan Allen is probably going to give him plenty of opportunities to be offensive if he wants to be but that's entirely up to Holland and his mentality.

12- The last time we saw him, Deron Winn was having a FOTN style war with Eric Spicely on short notice. Winn has a lot of "poor man's DC" about him which is a really unfair comparison but I can't think of a guy that short in a weight class who prioritizes the same arsenal of strikes that he does other than DC. He gets a kind of risky step up in competition with Darren "The Dentist" Stewart. Stewart has a bit of a funky UFC record, he started his run 0-3 and then hit a stride of sorts since then, going 3-1 with the sole loss being a super close split decision to MW prospect Edmen Shahbazyan. Stewart hits really hard and has found some tremendously timely resolve with his takedown defense, creating a sort of fight that should be closer on paper than some folk might realize.

[ts1989fanatic]

A more in depth personal review of Lover, the album dropped last week and because I had issues downloading it from iTunes (what else is new) I did not really have time for anything other than a cursory listen before heading to bed.

So now a week has past and I have had more than a few listens (who am I kidding) a hella lot more than a few, my wife and I went on a road trip Sunday 250 Blissful Kilometers of just me and my Lovers.

Still a little haunted by Soon You’ll Get Better I was very emotional after listening to this song and still am truth be told, almost everyone has that person in their life who has been touched by cancer. And just like Taylor when it’s someone close to you like a parent or a Lover it’s downright terrifying.

Lover the parent as opposed to Lover the child (more on her later) is a more mature in control Taylor Swift bringing us the wild abandon of Red’s lay it all out on the floor with the sonic cohesion achieved with 1989.

To me Lover nods in passing to reputation, but as I listen to the album in more depth it to me is a continuation of where Taylor was heading after 1989, it still holds a little shade in the finger snapping I forgot That You Existed a song all about as Taylor herself has said letting go and stepping into the daylight don’t confront the haters and exes just be indifferent to them it’s a lot less toxic.

If there is one consistency on Lover, though: it’s Taylor’s love for, love. The entire album is predominantly romantic and seems to track the timeline of a relationship, from its beginnings to the final realization that the situation is serious. Taylor leaves it up to us the listener to theorize that Lover is about her relationship with Joe Alwyn.

There’s nothing on Lover that mentions him directly but there is more than enough within the lyrics on various songs to speculate. Half the fun of being a Swiftie is coming up with theories, you have your opinions I have mine. So go through the track by track list below and decide for yourself what song is about who.

“I Forgot That You Existed”

Taylor starts Lover not with a love song, but a song in which Taylor Swift seems to have moved past the drama on “I Forgot You Existed.” Who it is heavily speculated on that this song is about CH, is it only Taylor herself really knows. Looking at the lyrics it could also be about any of her exes that did not end the relationship on the best of terms.

“How many days did I spend thinking about how you did me wrong?” “I lived in the shade you were throwing till all of my sunshine was gone.” Then in the chorus she declares, “I forgot that you existed, and I thought that it would kill me, but it didn’t the meaning behind this song for me? Taylor has shed the snakeskin from the reputation era and is has moved on not with hate or anger JUST INDIFFERENCE

“Cruel Summer”

Those early flirtatious sometimes tumultuous stages early on in a new relationship. “It’s new, the shape of your body. It’s blue, the feeling I’ve got,” “It’s cool, that’s what I tell him. No rules…. We say we’ll just screw it up. In these trying times, we’re not trying.” This speaks to the drama that can happen in any new relationship before things stabilize and you can think about introducing them to friends and family.

“Lover”

To me this song and video are a throwback to the 70’s era country songs about love that I grew up on and after listening to Keith Urban cover it live you can see how it would be a smash on country radio stations. These lyrics cry out COUNTRY to me.

“Have I known you 20 seconds or 20 years?” she sings later on. “Can I go where you go? Can we always be this close? ’ve loved you three summers. Now, honey, I want ’em all.”

“The Man”

Not a love story, here, on “The Man.” Here more of a social commentary on society in general and the gender bias that still exist today despite the best efforts of a lot of WOKE people.

Taylor highlights how her career and reputation would have played out in the media if she were born a man rather than being named after one.

“Every conquest I made would make me more of a boss to you,” “I’d be just like Leo in Saint Tropez.”

“They wouldn’t shake their heads and question how much of this I deserve, what I was wearing, if I was rude…. If I was a man, I’d be the man.”

“The Man” is one of the boppiest bop on Lover and deserves to be the next single.

“The Archer”

On “The Archer,” Taylor finds herself questioning her situation with her partner. Is it the real? How long will it last? These are relatable questions most of us ask once the honeymoon phase of a relationship draws to a close. “They see right through me. Can you see right through me?” Taylor sings. “Who could ever leave me, darling? But who could stay?”

“I Think He Knows”

By the time Taylor reaches this song,” She has answered that question: she wants her new relationship to work, and she’s not afraid to say so. “I think he knows when we get all alone, he’ll want me to stay,” “I think he knows he better lock it down, or I won’t stick around” cause good ones never wait.”

“Miss Americana & the Heartbreak Prince”

Some see this as a love song, personally I see it more as a protest song, Taylor has become much more political and outspoken on the issues since Trump took office  this is an “us against the administration” mind-set. At first listen it may not sound like a protest song, but to me and I follow US politics very closely it certainly speaks to what has happened over the last few years.

When the White House responds to a song then I think you can safely say DAMN STRAIGHT it’s a protest song. Miss Americana & the Heartbreak Prince is not a Rage Against The Machine protest song, it’s a song full of metaphors and because of this it draws you in and makes you listen closely and get behind and beneath the symbolism.

“American glory Faded before me now I’m feeling Hopless”

“Paper Rings”

Taylor joking about marrying her lover one day or is she joking. “I like shiny things, but I’d marry you with paper rings. That’s right, darling. You’re the one I want,” definitely a love song about a serious relationship, does it mean Taylor and Joe are engaged (not according to Tree)

 “Cornelia Street”

“Cornelia Street” is when our story takes a dramatic turn.  It’s important to know that, at one point, Taylor rented a carriage house on Cornelia Street in New York City while her place was being renovated. The lyrics of this song suggest Taylor associates Cornelia Street with a relationship getting more intense.

“I hope I never lose you. Hope it never ends. I never want Cornelia Street again,” “That’s the kind of heartbreak time could never mend.”

“Death by a Thousand Cuts”

This comes through as a breakup song, but a breakup with who not Joe from all appearances, possibly to a past relationship. “I get drunk, but it’s not enough, ’cause the morning comes and you’re not my baby,” Taylor sings shortly after saying, “Saying goodbye is death by a thousand cuts.

"I look through the windows of this love, even though we boarded them up” and “You said it was a great love, one for the ages. But if this story’s over, why am I still writing pages?”

“London Boy”

With a Cat’s co-star cameo from Idris Elba, Taylor is back to singing about love of a guy and a city, not with great accuracy I might add as an ex-pat who lived and worked in London for ten years. But hey she’s a writer and allowed poetic license.

“Something happened, I heard him laughing. I saw the dimples, first, and then I heard the accent,” “They say home is where the heart is, but that’s not where mine lives. You know I love a London boy.”

“Soon You’ll Get Better” (featuring Dixie Chicks)

Sorry for the language but this song fucked me up, Still a little haunted by it. I was very emotional after listening to this song and still am truth be told, almost everyone has that person in their life who has been touched by cancer. And just like Taylor when it’s someone close to you like a parent or a Lover it’s downright terrifying. I lost my mother to cancer my father in law to cancer and the love of my life has been diagnosed three times twice benign once malignant (God that’s an ugly word)

“In doctor’s office lighting, I didn’t tell you I was scared,” “Soon you’ll get better. You’ll get better soon, ’cause you have to.”

If I am honest here I really want to fast forward past this song but it’s so emotional and raw that I find myself having to listen to it over again.

“False God”

On “False God,” Taylor recognizes the issues that can lead to the breakup as in “Death by a Thousand Cuts.”

“I know heaven’s a thing. I go there when you touch me. Hell is when I fight with you,” “But we can patch it up good.” She doesn’t dig any deeper here, though. That comes later.

“You Need to Calm Down”

After the backlash Taylor faced from 2016 she found her voice not just in speaking out about equality but encapsulating it into her music. YNTCD is a synth heavy pop bop that calls out Internet Trolls and boldly champions the LGBTQ community, franklt it’s a fucking bop with a message and both my wife and love it.

“Say it in the street, that’s a knock-out” “But you say it in a Tweet that’s a cop-out” (advice to live by Mr. President)

“Afterglow”

“Afterglow” Is an apology song.” Here Taylor opens up about how a relationship can implode with a partner and the role her own behaviour played in it imploding. “I blew things out of proportion, now you’re blue,” she sings. “I put you in jail for something you didn’t do…. Fighting with a true love is boxing with no gloves.” “Why’d I have to break what I love so much? It’s on your face, and I’m to blame,” “Hey, it’s on me in my head. I’m the one who burned this down, but it’s not what I meant. Sorry that I hurt you.”

“Me!” (featuring Brendon Urie of Panic! at the Disco)

A tongue-in-cheek, extension of “Afterglow.”here Taylor can laugh about the drama. Not only that but she own up to her faults on this song, Taylor lays out that it’s those faults that make her the perfect match for someone.

“I know that I went psycho on the phone. I never leave well enough alone. And trouble’s gonna follow where I go,” “Afterglow.” “Baby doll, when it comes to a lover. I promise that you’ll never find another like me.”

“It’s Nice to Have a Friend”

A lot of the theories I have seen about this one revolve around her relationship with Joe “Church bells ring. Carry me home. Rice on the ground, looks like snow.” It certainly sounds like they might be gearing up for that next step. But I don’t read this the same way, it reads more like a first love narrative.

“Sidewalk chalk covered in snow lost my gloves, you gave me one” “Twenty questions, we tell the truth”

“Daylight”

A dreamy romantic song that is filled with words one would say on their wedding day or just after getting married. They sound a lot like vows. “I don’t want to look at anything else now that I saw you. I don’t want to think of anything else now that I’ve thought of you. I’ve been sleeping so long in a 20-year dark night, and now I see daylight.”

Taylor says “I want to be defined by the things that I love. Not the things I hate. Not the things I’m afraid of, or the things that haunt me in the middle of the night. I just think that you are what you love.”

This is Taylor Swift at her ultimate best, crafting lyrics that we can all relate to at whatever stage of your relationship you are in. This is Speak Now and Fearless Taylor all grown up but still crafting a story of life with her lyrics in her own unique way.

Where reputation was dark and moody even though in my opinion still a very relatable album, who has never faced criticism and wished that they had the skills heart and wit to respond as Taylor did, Lover is all vivid colors and predominantly bright and cheerful music with certain exceptions this is Taylor in full flow and form. Taylor the story teller Taylor the lyrical master Taylor the ARTIST.

[mwelxn]

THE MAN WHO QUIT GUNS N' ROSES When IZZY STRADLIN' left the The World's Most Dangerous Band, he quit the wrangling, quit the drugs, and quit LA. In Copenhagen recently to complete his first solo album, 'Ju Ju Hounds', Izzy spoke candidly and for the first time about his shock departure to PAUL ELLIOTT... By Paul Elliott Kerrang! Magazine - Sept. 1992 The boy crossing the street outside Copenhagen's Webers Hotel, a Guns N' Roses patch on the back of his jacket, would barely recognize Izzy Stradlin' today. Stradlin' sits on a low sofa in one of the hotel's simply furnished rooms. His hair, lighter and browner, is knotted into dreadlocks, his skin is lightly tanned. Stradlin' looks healthy, happy and relaxed; happy to be out of Guns N' Roses. So what was it that finally made Izzy quit the biggest rock 'n' roll band in the world? "I was sick of it," he sighs heavily, his voice lazy and dry, "just completely fed up with it. It didn't feel like it used to, something wasn't happening that used to happen for me. "I took some time off after the Wembley Stadium gig in August 1991. All through October and the first half of November I was riding motorcycles back in Indiana (Izzy grew up in Lafayette, and has since returned to live there). I ride trials bikes, where you go over rocks and logs, obstacles. I did that for almost two months straight. "In November I went back to LA, and there were some conditions and terms put to me which pretty much made the decision to quit the band real easy for me. I just thought, this is not acceptable - so that was it. "Since then, I've talked to Slash once, about a week ago in New York, and, uh, the last time I saw Axl there were a lotta harsh words - from him - so I kinda left it alone. I called him once after that, we talked for about a half hour, so I'm kinda waiting for him to call me back to discuss the things that we haven't really resolved. "There was so much going on, so much happening, and when you step out of something like that it still keeps moving, like a tornado. When I stepped back out of it I felt really relieved." Axl Rose's image suddenly appears on the TV screen that flickers silently in a corner of the room. Izzy rises, a wry smile on his face, and switches the TV off. "Wherever you go in the world, you're gonna see the band's videos or pictures," he shrugs, "so it's not like it's ever completely out of my mind. There was a point where I missed it for a while, so I just started writing again around December, putting this new thing together." - Izzy's new thing is a solo record titled 'Ju Ju Hounds', released in October, preceded by an EP, 'Pressure Drop', that's out in two weeks. He's also planning a European club tour with the band which cut most of the album and EP: guitarist Rick Richards (ex-Georgia Satellites), bassist Jimmy Ashhurst (ex-Broken Homes) and drummer Charlie Quintana. Izzy talks in depth about those records and his new band in next week's Kerrang!, but first there are questions to be answered about the old band. For example: do you feel you were pushed? "Yeah," he nods, "somewhat. I don't want to get into it too deep; a lot of it's personal stuff. I don't wanna say anything that's already been said about me, you know what I mean? There's been a little shit talked from their side, but I just gotta plow it off and say, 'That's how it is with them, it's nothing new'. "When I was told how the future was gonna be in the band, I thought about it for a long time that night, and when I woke up the next morning, I knew what I was gonna do that day. I decided to leave. "I never really thought about leaving the band till the last tour we did. I didn't feel it was fair to a lot of the people coming to the gigs to go onstage two or three hours late. That's just not right. That's the way Axl is and the way he works, but it's not right for me, and I don't think it was right for the fans either. Stuff like that kinda got to me after four months on tour. There's a lotta pressure, I suppose, but the bottom line is, if you gotta be somewhere and there's something you gotta do, you do it. That's how I see it. "When we were playing the gigs, a lotta times it was a case of, how long's it gonna be before Axl comes back onstage? It's a pretty big stage, and you're going, 'Anybody see which way he went?'. Then you see a bunch of roadies running... And the old filling-in with a blues jam and a drum solo shit get sold when it's on a nightly basis. It wasn't every night, but y'know... "I don't wanna talk down on these guys because a lot of the stuff that we did as a band was great, some great music, and God knows we had a lot of fucking crazy times, good times. I'm really proud of some of the stuff we did. Now it's 1992, and who knows where it goes from here. I just had to say, 'I'm stepping aside at this point'." - Before quitting the band, Stradlin' expressed dissatisfaction with Guns N' Roses' much-delayed 'Use Your Illusion' albums. He even admitted that he couldn't remember how to play Slash's song 'Coma' because it had too many chord changes! "It was crazy," the guitarist shakes his head. "The last record we did was too many songs for me to remember really. I had a hard time with 'Coma', it wasn't so much my style. Those albums I found very frustrating. I think there's some good songs on there, but the process was extremely, extremely slow. Again, that's the way Axl wants to do things. "I like to get the stuff done and carry on. If you start picking everything apart, analyzing, it's pointless, a downward spiral - and next thing you know, months have gone by, or a year. It took us a long time to get those records out, I don't even remember how long." The days began even before the recording of the 'Use Your Illusion' albums, when drummer Steven Adler was kicked out of the band. "I took it pretty hard when Stevie was out of the band," Izzy's face tenses. "It was pretty upsetting, cos I was watching Stevie trying to get himself together, and it was kinda hard seeing somebody trying when they're not really ready for it. Weeks and months were going by, we were in that old dilemma; it had been two or three years and we didn't have a fucking album out, we gotta move. "I actually spoke to Steve probably a month ago - against the advice of the legal system, the attorneys, all that fucking bullshit. That part of the business, that part of the band, is such a load of shit - it seems it fucks up so many good things. But I talked to Stevie; I'd heard he wasn't doing so well, and it was a trip talking to the guy, cos I hadn't talked to him for what must've been a year. - "He was a good-natured guy; I hope he can get it together. He was never malicious, he never tried to fuck people around, he was just happy playing his drums. In some ways he's a little naive, I guess. "I just tried to offer a little support, y'know? I just talked to him for a little bit. He was a good drummer. He wasn't a virtuoso, a Neil Peart from Rush or something, but he's a fucking damn good rock drummer, he's a good guy, and he's funnier than shit on the road. "I was always laughing when I was hanging out with Stevie. Some of the shit he'd pull, you'd just go, 'No fucking way'! One time we were in New York: I was rooming with Stevie and due to overbooking, we got a huge $500-a-night suite. We had this big room so we had a big party... and two days later we're still up! "Stevie's a hairy guy, he's naked, his fucking eyes are red and swollen like goggles, and he's walking around when the maid comes in. The look on this lady's face, man - it just freaked the shit out of her, this fucking red-eyed ape guy! "He was funny. I hope he gets it together. I told him to get a real job, clean himself up and start doing studio work or something. "He was saying that he just really missed playing. All these lawsuits," Izzy groans, "it's just so fucking ugly, y'know? I guess it's inevitable..." - Izzy can empathize with Adler, having struggled to kick drug habits of his own. "We left Hollywood as dirtbags," Izzy recalls, "the band that everyone was betting would crash 'n' burn the first week out. We were gone almost two years, and suddenly we were so popular in LA, everybody loved us, everybody had something they wanted to sell us. The drugs came easier, everything. Fuck, one day I was sitting in my apartment, fucked out of my head, and I go, 'Man, I gotta step back to some reality'. "I think going back to Indiana woke me up from my haze, point blank. I was still drinking a lot, still getting twisted, but it helped me get away from the drugs and that sorta bullshit lifestyle; every night the clubs and the parties and the drugs, just pointless stuff. That shit got old. "I managed to stop drinking and using drugs for a month or two, and you get all this anxiety, this energy, which you don't know what to do with. I put some of the energy into bikes, skateboarding..." - Izzy roots through a pile of magazines on the floor to pick up a stack of photographs of himself and his Swedish girlfriend Anneka on 'boards at a nearby skate ramp in Copenhagen, talking all the while as he leafs through the pictures. "From January, the only thing I've really been doing is playing guitar. I put the bikes away because I found myself getting into music probably more than I ever have. I go through phases of playing guitar and riding motorcycles, like I went through phases of just snorting and smoking. "The hardest thing about kicking coke is the fucking anxiety. It lasted for what seemed like an eternity. I remember two weeks when I didn't really sleep, and it takes months for your body to begin functioning naturally again. I had a harder time with coke than smack. I kicked smack but would keep starting up again, and the times I'd go cold turkey with no sort of medication; that's bad, but you can get through it. The coke I found to be more evil, a real fucker." He chuckles: "I'll be getting strip-searched at Heathrow if you print this! "Coke is more socially accepted than smack, but I haven't been around it for a long time. I haven't even been around any people using it, cos as soon as you stop using that stuff, you suddenly start looking differently at the people you hang out with. "For years, I never knew any other way to live. I suppose when you're a kid you do, but as you start fucking around with that stuff, it seems normal. I feel better not using it; it fucks me up. "There was a point in LA where I wouldn't go outside without a gun. I was carrying a pistol all the time, and eventually I think that works on you too. It's fucked, it's no way to live, and when I realized, I said, 'I gotta get out of here before it gets too fuckin' crazy'." - Guns N' Roses came close to breaking up in October of 1990. From the stage of the LA Coliseum, where the band were supporting the Rolling Stones, Axl announced that GN'R were finished, prefacing 'Mr. Brownstone' with the suggestion that "certain people in the Guns N' Roses organization should get their shit together and quit dancing with this man". 'Mr. Brownstone' was Axl's piece on heroin addiction. For Izzy, this was a time of mixed emotions. "I got a call from Axl on the morning of the first Stones show. He said, 'I'm sorry, these gigs aren't gonna go, I quit!'. But we managed to get through 'em. That was a weird time for me. Playing to 50,000 people with the Stones is as good as it gets, but the Monday after the last show I had to be up at 8am to meet my new probation officer. That was after I got arrested on a plane. "It's a federal offense if you fuck up on an airplane. I was outta my mind, there was a queue to the bathroom, and I was going, 'Well, I'm either gonna piss in my pants or piss on the fucking rug'! Everything was real quiet on the plane after that. "I was happy I'd pissed, I was completely numb, drunk, and of course when we landed, the police were there. I was also carrying a nine-millimeter pistol, but when my bag finally got to LA it was gone. "That probation officer was an okay guy, they're pretty fair people, but it made me realize that it doesn't matter how fucking big your band is, when it comes down to the legal system, you're just the same as anyone else." Izzy Stradlin' got pretty fucked up in Guns N' Roses, but he's doing fine now.

[rinka-fuka]

Strap in you guys cause this bitch is about to do a whole lot of ✨jumping to conclusions✨

*Captain Marvel-ish spoilers below*

Okay so: New Endgame trailer came out and holy fucking shit Tony almost had me in tears with his little ode to Pep. (God he fucking loves her) Anyway, as the trailer later shows, Nebula and Tony make it back to Earth. Whether it was Captain Marvel who got them back (I’m putting my money on that theory) or they just said fuck oxygen and got back home in their own (because same.), frankly all that matters to me is that they’re alive.

So they’re back on earth and hold on wait a minute where’s Pepper? I have reason to believe that she joined the Avengers and we could’ve possibly not seen her yet, and Gwenyth did post that picture of Rescue!Pepper’s suit, so there’s a good chance we’ll get some Pepper ass kicking action, wherever she may be.

Thankfully, Nat (probably) talked Clint out of his bloodthirsty emo phase and they seem to be working together, and what do you know? Avengers Assembled and they do the slow-mo walk in those ugly ass suits but it’s okay they’re trying to save humanity, fashion isn’t that important. I want to note though that Tony isn’t wearing his suit. That really wouldn’t have caught my attention but Rhodey has his on. Maybe it’s more PTSD, and Tony’s gonna pull a Banner and say “I’m more than just the suit.” If so, right on.

So this movie is going to be heartbreaking. We knew that from the moment the cryptic “Thanos will return” came and blew off the screen. And the Russo’s made that painfully clear when they put everything in grayscale with the only color shown being red. (Like we get it Russo’s, you’re gonna ruin our goddamn lives again.) With the nightmarescape they flashed to, and Steve and co., looking pretty beat up, I’m really wondering what the hell theyre actually fighting. Team Titan didn’t take nearly as much of a beating but I suppose they are trying to kill the asswad so maybe murdering Gamora tipped him over the edge and he just goes ape shit.

I wanna talk about the poster. It’s color specifically: blue. I’m shooting in the dark here but that makes me think of the space stone. AKA the Tesseract. The Tesseract in which possibly isn’t even the real Tesseract. In the post credit scene, it appears to occur after the Snappening and Goose appears on Fury’s desk. The Tesseract she had eaten way back in 19__ was still there. That raises the question: What does Thanos have? What’s the power source of the CM Tesseract? It’s more than just a coincidence that they have the same name. If Thanos really had the fake Stone or some alternate version of it then the Snappening really didn’t happen like it was supposed to, possibly creating that loophole in which the Avengers can bring everyone back.

Last thing. In the official poster, everyone is turning to look at this unseen assailant except for Thor and Okoye. Okoye’s head is lowered, possibly in homage to her fallen people (she was pretty traumatized), but Thor is looking in the opposite direction if everyone else. Could this mean a certain someone has faked his death again? Could it mean that Thor faces a different struggle than everyone? Bigger than anyone could know?

I mean who knows? I sure as hell don’t, these are only my (slightly) educated guesses. This movie is definitely going to ruin me but I’m totally up for this one last go.

[lives-by-moonlight]

💘 + Garrett and Lilith

@insatiablelilith

​

where they first met and how

Normal Verse: Lilith and Garrett were kind of set up through friends. Their one friend was having a small birthday gathering at a bar. The girl invited all of her friends (Lilith) and her boyfriend was friends with Garrett and knew the couple so he also came. Both friends had raved about them to the other and thought that both of them going to the bar would be a good introducer (to at least bring them together). It worked because pretty soon both of them started talking to each other, and found that they had talked and laughed the entire night away until the bar was closing and they were almost kicked out. Garrett asked for her number hopeful and she gave it to him. On their next date, he took her to a coffee shop before they both realized that they wanted to see a movie that was playing, so they decided to go to the movie together. After that, they just kept talking and getting together

Jurassic World Verse: Lilith was a possible investor in the park. Due to a storm only Lilith’s boat was able to come in and Garrett was the only person in the park that was still there who knew the most about the dinosaurs. After meeting some of the dinosaurs, the storm gets worse and knocks out the power, and they grow closer together as they try to survive. When she had to leave, Garrett knew that it was professional and that his co-workers would crucify him for it, but he gave her his number and told her to call him if they ever wanted to get together again. And they did.

how long their ‘flirting’ phase was before feelings got involved

their flirting phase didn’t last very long (in either verse) because they found that they clicked together very quickly. After meeting together for another date, Garrett knew that he had deep feelings for her and found that he loved her. He told his siblings about her and after a few dates he was already saying he was in love with her, and they knew he meant it

who fell for who first ( if applicable )

maybe Garrett? He found an attraction to her after first meeting her, but by the end of the encounter he knew there was something special about her

where their first date was and what it was like

their official first date (in the normal verse) would be at a coffee shop in the late afternoon. After they get talking more, they realize that there is a movie playing at the theatre that both of them really wanted to see, so they decided just to go together, so their date turned up being almost a double date

in Jurassic World AU, Garrett takes her on a hike on the island. He takes her to a waterfall on the island before moving more up the trail to the cliffs where they get a view of the water and the natural side of the island.

who asks who out and how ( with a sign? spelled out on a cake? just a simple ‘will you go out with me’? )

in the normal verse Garrett is the one who asks her out by asking for her number and then contacting her to suggest another date

in the JW AU, Lilith asks Garrett out by contacting him and Garrett is the one that suggests if she wants to see some more of the island

who proposes first

Garrett!

if they keep / kept their relationship secret or let everyone know right away

everyone in the normal verse figures it out pretty quickly because a) Garrett can’t keep his mouth shut about this gorgeous girl that he met and b) a lot of their friends were there when they met and talked together

in the AU verse it’s more time before they tell their family and friends. They tell them soon enough, but it takes a little while since Garrett is so far away from his family and is away most of the time. He usually tells his family that he met “an amazing woman” when working on the island and starts to give more details from there

where the proposal happens and how ( kiss cam at a baseball game? on a hillside surrounded by ducks? at a disney park? )

(in the married meme)

if they adopt any pets together

I believe that in time they would. After they have their kids they think it would be nice to have a dog around for them to play with (plus Garrett is so much a dog person). They would probably get an older dog that is more gentle with the kids (maybe before a puppy) in a cliche time like around Christmas or in the summer.

when the kids are older Athena starts looking at pictures of bearded dragons and asking her parents if she could get one. After doing some research, for their birthday they caved and got her one when she was 12 and although it is primarily Athena’s, the entire family loves them (and his name is Groot)

they may also think about getting a pet before the kids, and they see cute dogs or cats on websites but both are so busy that it starts to move onto the back burners

who’s more dominant

Garrett is most often dominant in bed (especially when things can get really kinky), however when Lilith gets dominant Garrett absolutely loves it 

where their first kiss was and what it was like

like a good cliche, Garrett kissed Lilith for the first time when they were out on a date. He was walking Lilith to her car and they were saying their goodbyes. After both of them are a little quiet and pretending to make small talk to stay longer, Garrett finally leans in and kisses her goodbye. It’s a sweet kiss, not too passionate, but not easy and lifeless either. 

When he is driving back home he is smiling like an idiot the entire time banging the steering wheel once in a while because he is so excited and can’t completely contain it as he drives

if they have any matching couples stuff ( mugs? sweaters? pillowcases? )

they have SOOOOO many matching couples stuff

matching Mr. and Mrs. mugs when they are married, and even when they are not they have matching ‘You are my:’ Sun and Moon mugs 

matching sweaters? hell yes. especially matching ugly Christmas sweaters

they also love to have matching costumes at parties 

how into pda they are

they try to at least stay PG-13 when they are out because they both know that teasing and kissing can go 0-100 really fast for them 

they do a lot of handholding, mostly because they love the feeling of it and because they can’t keep their hands off each other (both sexually and because the touch of the other brings them comfort)

who holds the umbrella when it rains

Garrett, he’s taller 

where their usual ‘date spot’ is ( if applicable )

their usual ‘date spot’ is actually mostly their own home. Garrett and Lilith love spending time just hanging in on the couch or bed ordering in and cuddling together and watching a movie (usually a horror or thriller). They don’t need somewhere else or special to have a great date night, they just love being comfortable together

who’s more protective

Garrett. He is incredibly protective of Lilith, especially because he knows some of the bad things that happen to people from his job. He always wants to make sure she is safe

how long it is before they sleep together ( can be as in ‘had sex’ or as in ‘shared a bed’ )

after the first few dates they realize how much they love each other. It starts off with a ‘well, do you want to come upstairs’ and then soon enough it’s kissing and making their way to the bedroom. It’s within the first month that they first met

if they argue about anything

they don’t often argue, but if they do it’s mostly about Lilith worrying over Garretts safety. They usually are good about coming together to discuss things that are aggravating them before it spills over into an argument, but it happens time to time

who leaves more marks ( lipstick, hickeys, scratchmarks etc. )

both of them like to mark their territory. Lilith has more hickeys and bite marks but Garrett has more scratchmarks (mostly along his back or upper shoulders)

who steals whose clothes and how often

Lilith constantly takes Garrett’s clothing. Usually his sweaters or shirts because they are big and keep her warm. Or in a pinch if she needs to change into something quick in the morning (like making breakfast) she’ll just put on his shirt that’s on the floor after being quickly taken off the night before

Garrett finds it endearing to see her wearing his sweaters or shirts and likes how she looks so petite and cute in theme

(he especially loves the look of her just wearing panties with his shirt or sweater)

how they cuddle ( spooning? facing each other? )

they cuddle in every way possible. Spooning is a big one (usually him as the big spoon), especially if they are in bed, but they’ll also often cuddle with his arm around her to hold her to his chest, or with her laying on top of him if they are on the couch. They will also often cuddle with him against her chest, mostly laying against her stomach when he needs to be held

what their favourite nonsexual activity is

watching horror movies together and cooking together

how long they stay mad at each other

a few hours tops, even after an argument. they hate fighting or being mad with the other and quickly make up

what their usual coffee / tea orders are

Garrett usually just gets coffee with two creams/milk, Lilith loves coffee for work days but tea when just relaxing either socially or at home. He likes to surprise her by making her different herbal teas. Sometimes it’s chai, sometimes it’s mint, sometimes berry. He likes to surprise her

if they ever have any children together

they have four amazing and quirky kids (two boys and two girls: Tyler, Luke, Diana, and Athena) that they both adore to no end

if they have any special pet names for each other

she calls him Gare, sometimes babe, and he will sometimes call her babe, but most often ‘love’ comes up when he talks to her or of her

during kinky sex, he often calls her ‘baby girl’

if they ever split up and / or get back together

they did split up briefly in the Jurassic World AU when they were dating because they weren’t sure if the distance relationship would work, however after a few weeks they quickly came back together again knowing that they loved the other, no doubts

what their shared living space is like ( messy? clean? what kind of decor? )

their living space is a mix between messy and clean (however more messy when the kids come). It isn’t a pig stye, but it isn’t exactly sparkling clean either. They mostly have comfy decor. Soft browns or greens or blues to give earthy and relaxing tones, furniture is more for comfort rather than style.

what their first christmas / hanukkah / etc as a couple was like

their Christmases are different than the traditional celebrations that people usually have. Because of his job Garrett often has to work on the holidays, especially Christmas due to crime rates rising during the season. So they often celebrate Christmas on the 24th, their Christmas Eve being the 23rd. They like having the day off and spending it with each other. They continue this even when they have kids and the kids love having the extra day with their mom on the 25th

for their first Christmas, it was the same dates. Since he usually took the 24th night and 25th day shift they spent their Christmas either in bed, or out of it in sweats cuddling together. They had decorations up and a decorated tree. They made breakfast together that morning (late morning) and later that day they made cookies together and ordered pizza before cuddling together and watching Christmas movies. Before they go to bed they open presents for each other rather than in the morning

what their names are in each other’s phones

his original name for her is Baby Girl, however his name for her in his phone changes when they have kids because if they ever went into his phone or had to use it, that name is not a conversation that needs to be used

it turns to ‘Queen’

if they have any ‘couple traditions’ ( buying a new mug for their collection every year? baking every friday evening? )

because their schedules can get so conflicted they always try to spend at least one night together cuddling on the couch eating take out (usually pizza but sometimes Chinese or another spot)

who falls asleep first and who wakes up first

because of his weird hours, Garrett often spends late nights either in the field or in the office so he’ll come home late, therefore falling asleep last. When he comes home and she’s still sleeping, he’ll get the coffee maker ready for her if it’s a work day the next day or a cup with a tea bag in it and water in the kettle so she just has to press some buttons before he goes up to try to change and slip into bed as quietly as possible, kissing her forehead before falling asleep. 

because of this she’ll often wake up first, even if they fell asleep together. When she knows he’s had a long night, she’ll try to leave him some sort of breakfast that morning. If she has to go to work she’ll make sure the coffee maker is ready for him and she’ll make a quick sandwich or bagal for him so that it’s ready when he wakes up

who’s the big spoon / little spoon

Garrett is usually the big spoon and Lilith the little spoon

who hogs the bathroom

Lilith, she takes a while to get ready. However Garrett can also hog the bathroom when he needs to get dressed up for an occasion

who kills the spiders / takes them outside

Garrett has no problems picking up the spider and taking them outside. He’ll often even like to look them over and try to look closer at them before doing so

[detroitbecomehumanwritings]

Virtual Love (4/?)

Co-Writer: @500shadesofblue Pairing: Connor/DFAB!Reader (Gender is unspecified) Rating: T (Chapter), NC-17 (Entire Fic) Chapters: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 Summary: Virtual reality is becoming the next great evolution of technology: some say on-par with Elijah Kamski’s breakthrough design of the first modern-day android. It has immeasurable potential; to enhance, to assist, and to completely break the bounds of our reality.

You, as a member of the team spearheading the technology in a branch within Cyberlife, have developed a working prototype. It’s finally finished; all that’s left is a series of trials to check if it’s functioning properly.

On the first test run, however, you find an android named Connor standing in the middle of your virtual kitchen.

Several nights later, you’ve almost gotten into a routine.

The android you encounter in your prototype tests is an… intrigue. It’s far more advanced than any android you’ve ever encountered. Connor is interesting, and once your alarm at his presence wore off, his opinions, his questions, enthrall you. You’ve never spoken this way with an android before, talking just for talking’s sake, and making conversation actually gives you something to think about after a long day of industrial labor.

...Dammit. There you go again. Calling Connor a ‘he.’

“Hey, Connor,” you say lazily. You’re laying on your back, outside in the meadow again, drawn to its sunshine and splendor after a couple days in the real world with dreary rain. Connor, ever respectful, is a couple feet away, properly seated, cross-legged and presumably ramrod straight. You wouldn’t know- you’re staring up at the sky. It’s bright and clear, but you know that the sky in the real world is dark and strewn with stars.

Not that you can see any stars in Detroit.

“Yes?” he says. You exhale softly, feeling the warmth of the earth below, seeing the blue of the sky above. Today - or rather, tonight - it’s filled with puffy white clouds drifting across its expanse.

“Do you have a gender?”

The air is thick with tension, his hesitation almost audible. You keep your eyes on the clouds.

“...What does it matter?” He finally says, and alright, that definitely wasn’t the road you were expecting him to take.

“I…” You almost want to sit up, feel that the subject matter is serious enough that it’s warranted, but you want to hang onto the plausible deniability that staying still, staring up at the sky gives you. You let your thoughts percolate, brewing your ideas, arranging them into a picture you’re ready to present.

“I’m big on respecting what people want to be called, whatever that may be,” you finally say, rawly honest. And by this point… you’re not going to say it, but you’ve been talking with him for almost a week. The level of familiarity you’ve reached is beyond acquaintances, from coin tricks to twenty questions, suspicion to wariness to peaceful acceptance.

“And even if you’re an android, and not ‘people,’” you continue, a bit awkward, “to tell you the truth… it’s been pretty damn confusing in my head.”

“Oh?” he says. You can’t quite discern his tone.

You don’t know why you’re telling him the truth, but… it’s easier. Plus, who’s he going to tell? “I keep going back and forth in my head,” you confess, “between calling you ‘he’ and ‘it.’” It feels like an ugly confession, halfway-between perfectly acceptable and strange. “I thought it’d finally settle the matter if I asked you what you’d prefer. No harm in it, right? Either way, I can get it settled.” And I can stop agonizing about it.

“It’s kind of you to ask my opinion,” Connor says, and behind the soft tones of his voice, you can hear the grass and flowers rustling. “It’s very considerate.”

“It’s not… I’m not being considerate,” you say, oddly defensive, because you’re not . You’ve barely known this android for a week, and you’ve talked every night, but… “It’s not kind to ask what people prefer. It’s common decency, especially if you’re unsure. Just because you’re an android doesn’t mean you don’t…”

Have feelings.

“...doesn’t mean you don’t care about what you’re called,” you finish, lamely.

“Still,” Connor says, “it’s polite of you.”

Your social patterns, honed over decades of interacting with humans and trying to be mindful and respectful, get weirdly mixed up when you’re actually speaking with an android, interacting for a long period of time. Plus, you don’t know how to keep contradicting him without sounding both ungrateful and like an ass, so you just lay there, breathing slow, looking at the sky.

“Androids don’t have… don’t have natural gender, as such,” Connor finally says, breaking the silence, “at least not the way that human beings do.”

This is your cue to sit up.

You lift your arms up from your sides, reaching forwards, heaving yourself up from horizontality. You’re in a simple, loose tank top (can’t go braless while expecting company, even if the company is an android) and a ratty pair of knee-length shorts, loose and comfortable. With all your bare skin, the grass feels lovely, and the sunshine even lovelier.

You finally sit yourself in a comfortable position again, and when you look at Connor, his eyes are transfixed on your face in that odd way he does- unblinking, intent, absorbing information keenly.

“Go on,” you say, ignoring his staring, scooting to face him. You cross your legs, propping your elbows on your knees and your face on your hands. The way you’re sitting, now, you’re facing him, a little less than two feet away. This close, you can see all the subtle shifting expressions on his face, the yellow flickering of his LED made golden by the sunlight.

“Androids don’t have gender, as such,” he says eventually, looking away. You turn your gaze in the same direction, looking over the field of endless flowers. Among the kaleidoscope of color, you spy splotches of pale purple in clusters of green, heart-shaped leaves.

Dog-violets.

“Our preferences are… hardwired into us,” Connor continues, voice distant. “Gender makes humans comfortable. So, as such, I do prefer being called a ‘he’ over an it.”

There. There’s your answer.

“Plus,” Connor says, and you feel his gaze on the side of your face. “Being referred to with gendered pronouns facilitates integration, as it humanizes us in the eyes of others.”

Right.

“So you’re good with ‘he’?” You say, turning back to look at him. In another one of his typical expressions (which you recognize even in the short time you’ve known him), his eyebrows are slightly drawn together, mouth subtly downturned.

“Yes,” he says, a note of finality in his voice. “In fact, I’d even say that I prefer it.”

“Okay,” you say cheerfully. You pivot neatly, flopping back down in the grass. You can feel the smile blooming on your face.

You don’t know why, but you feel lighter.

“Does that answer your question?” he says, voice filtering down from above. He almost sounds amused.

“Yup,” you say, popping the p. “Perfectly, thanks.”

“Why did you want to know?” He says.

You don’t know why he’s pressing this.

“It doesn’t kill me to give common courtesy,” you say, a small frown on your face. “Even if it’s just to an android. When something has a face, when I’ve been talking to it for more than five hours cumulatively… when it has opinions, and questions…” you turn to look at him, and at this angle, you can only see his suit, the slope of his neck, and the hard cut of his jaw. And his mouth.

“It’s hard not to humanize something when things are like that.”

You look away, back at the sky.

“I think I understand,” he says.

After twenty minutes more peaceful silence, laying in the warm grass under the bright blue sky, you tell him see you tomorrow and you log out.

Work is boring.

You spent your life working towards this. Battling through high school, through college, through long hours of internships and grunt work and working your way up the ladder until finally you made it where you wanted to be.

Virtual reality development.

But now that it’s done, you just feel… well, you’re not sure.

You want to test it. Spend all your time inside VR, practicing manipulation, seeing what you can do. But you still have a job, technically, even if all you do is troubleshoot. It’s still not ready to be released to the public; guides need to be written, instructional manuals, tips and tricks and things to be aware of. It’s most of why your whole team is still troubleshooting the damn thing. Such a complex project coming together is bound to create gaps in awareness, blind spots as people focus on perfecting their own corner of the tech. Experiencing VR as a whole gives a fuller, better picture. So…

So, why can’t you test the tech at work?

Well, you left the damn headset at home on your coffee table, that’s why.

So you huff, turning your attention back towards the code you’re reading over for a friend. Mere formalities, at this point. You know it’s completely fine.

When did your nights become the highlight of your day?

You push the thought to the back of your mind and keep working.

That night, you phase into VR between one blink and the next.

Your eyes shoot open and you scan the room- ah. Connor’s on the other side of the couch, his ‘usual’ spot.

“Hey, Connor!” you greet, smiling.

“Hello,” he says, and gives you a slightly sad but evidently genuine attempt at a smile. It terminates somewhere between its command and execution, leaving him with an awkward twist of the lips, but you’re used to it by now.

“Hey, okay, idea,” you say, businesslike.

You see him perk up, attention sharpening.

“We should practice manipulating the virtual reality,” you say, gesturing around the room in a vague, sweeping generality. “It’s all I’ve been thinking about all day, honestly. And I bet you’d be good at it!”

You’re not sure if Connor has practiced conjuration in the time between your little coin trick and now, but if he has, you haven’t seen it.

“I have made several attempts,” he says, and you’re not even surprised that he’s managed to find the time. You’re not sure how you know, but Connor seems… crafty. You have a feeling he’s good at finding loopholes and ways to achieve his goals.

You raise an eyebrow. “How’d they go?”

He smiles at you, and this one almost looks genuine. “Very well, though the tests were simple.”

And, as you watch, holds a hand out in front of him. When your attention refocuses, he clenches his fist, and when it opens…

Slowly, his fingers unfurl, revealing a coin.

You laugh, bright, head bobbing and eyes scrunching shut as the laughter is startled out of you. When you open your eyes, still grinning, Connor’s almost smiling, too.

“Did you enjoy that?” he says.

“It was great!” you can’t help how your voice sounds, unduly enthused. This shit is so cool.

He starts fidgeting with it, but you turn your focus inward. What can you do? Theoretically, your only limits are your own imagination and willpower.

Can you change your appearance?

Whether or not it’s possible, you don’t want to do that, now. For one, you don’t want Connor asking questions. (Or considering doing the same.) You like Connor, you do, but… trust?

Trust is something different entirely.

So you close your eyes and clasp your hands together, holding them in front of you, arms parallel to the ground.

You hear Connor’s distant what are you doing? but you tune him out, focusing inwards. What can I summon? Start simple. How about…

Your mind flicks from object to object, ranging from the practical to the wildly impractical. A red rubber ball. Dancing flames. A glittering, gem-encrusted dragonfly. A purple blossom. An ornate, painted egg.

An egg…

You feel something building between your palms. Warm, and tingling, almost. Like a word, on the tip of your tongue, but you can’t quite…

And then there’s something between your hands, forcing them a few inches apart to make room, and your eyes fly open.

Your eyes dart to Connor’s face, his eyes transfixed on your hands. You can hear…

Peeping.

You open your cupped palms, slowly, supporting the chirping creature within. You keep looking back and forth, from Connor’s face to your own opening palms, a slow reveal.

You sigh as you take in the sight, settled between cupped palms: A fluffy yellow chick with shiny black button eyes, peeping and looking around. It looks- it looks real , feels warm and downy soft in your hands.

“You’ve created life,” Connor says. He sounds sincere.

“The facsimile of life,” you correct him, a warm smile stealing over your face, using a thumb to stroke the chick lightly along the side of its small, feathered body. You can feel it’s tweets reverberating through its chest, quieting as it settles into your hands, placated by touch.

“It’s very… small,” Connor says, voice quiet. He looks enthralled, more entranced than you’ve ever seen him.

“Do you want to hold it?” you say.

“Oh, I…” he looks almost… embarrassed? But surely, you’re imagining that. “If you want. There’s no purpose to doing so.”

“Here,” you say, soft, holding it out, keeping your palms together, careful not to jostle it. You stop stroking it and it starts cheeping again, but it settles as you stroke a fingertip across its chest.

Connor steps forward, reaching, and cups his hands together under yours, cradling them. Illogically, his hands are warm. Bigger than yours, large enough to easily encompass them. And those facts are… irrelevant. You push them to the back of your mind.

Unbidden, you feel a flush rising to your face as you part your hands, slowly withdrawing. The chick tweets, panicked, as your hands start to move away, and it staggers into the cradle of Connor’s palms. Connor’s fingertips drag against the back of your hand as you pull away- irrelevant . You take a step back: You need some space.

“I can’t scan it,” Connor says, and you can’t read his tone. His voice is soft. “I can only… feel it. I can sense its warmth, and its texture. I can hear it.”

As if called to action, the chick starts peeping furiously, feathers ruffling, looking around frantically.

“Pet it,” you suggest. Your eyes keep flicking back and forth between his hands and his expression. The chick looks even smaller in the cradle of his hands, and his face has a familiar expression on it: intensely focused. “It worked for me.”

“Comfort,” Connor muses, voice low. But he curls his pointer finger away from the rest, stroking along the chick’s feathers, and it quiets.

You want to say I wonder what’ll happen when we log out? But you know what’ll happen to the chick. It’ll stop existing, like everything does in VR. Unless you establish the server permanently… but that’s beyond beta testing, only available when the final version comes out. Your house, the meadow outside… it’s all default, generated every time you enter VR.

“Willpower,” Connor muses, snapping you out of your reverie. The chick is still in his hands- oh, it’s dozing off. It looks like a pile of golden fluff, soothed and quiet by Connor’s petting. “You summoned this… this facsimile of life through willpower. Did you foresee its behavior?”

“No,” you say. “I just pictured…” a baby bird. A chick. The color wasn’t planned, nor its need for… comfort.

“Yes?” Connor prompts.

“I just thought of a baby bird,” you say. “Hatching from an egg.”

When you go into the next session, Connor is absent, as is the chick. Your virtual-cat isn’t there, either.

You’ve never felt more alone.

The next session, Connor’s back.

Your cat - who’s gotten into the habit of settling on your lap for your long, nightly VR sessions - comes along for the ride, too. You know it’s not actually your cat, but it sure acts like your cat, affection, quirks and all. It’s comforting, at least.

So you practice summoning vibrant plumed feathers and scraps of colorful fabric for your cat to play with. Connor, expression colored with amusement, keeps to his side of the couch.

You’re dangling a vibrantly red strand of yarn for your cat (who’s batting at it playfully), jerking it back and forth, when-

A mouse goes flying past your face.

You shriek, jerking back- oh goddammit, Connor.

You shoot him a glare. The mouse - which your cat is racing over to investigate - is currently motionless and clearly mechanical, joints segmented and body hairless, skin a shiny chrome. You can hear whirrs and buzzes as your cat - overjoyed at the superior toy - sprints after it as it starts to scurry.

“Why are you like this,” you say, grumpily settling deeper into the couch.

“I figured I’d utilize my own expertise to contribute towards your goal,” he says smartly. You refuse to look at his face, but you have a feeling that he’s looking smug in his own self satisfied, android-y way.

You grumble, but you both spend the rest of the session chatting softly, watching your cat chase the mechanical mouse around your living room.

That night, as usual, you go to bed with a smile.

(You don’t know how or why, but somehow, Connor has become a part of your routine. Moreover, he’s become the highlight of your day.

Virtual reality and its manipulations are incredible, and you're becoming better and better at twisting reality. Connor, too.

Things were going so well.

It makes sense that something had to break.)

“What...are your thoughts on androids?”

The question catches you off-guard.

You had expected something along the lines of your background, maybe even your professional credentials--it is what most people tend to ask when getting to know someone else. College you graduated from, notable achievements in your career, that sort of thing.

You didn’t actually expect Connor--an android itself--to ask you about your opinions of them.

It’s a bit unnerving, actually. You feel your thoughts flutter for a moment, unable to come up with a response that wasn’t anything more than a jumble of confused noises.

Your thoughts on androids?

“I--well,” You sputter out an attempt of a sentence before coming back to yourself. “Could you clarify? That’s a….really general question.” Not to mention awkward. Odd. It left a slightly sour taste in your mouth.

Connor blinks. You can practically feel him processing your words, though it’s barely a moment of silence before he speaks again.

“Simply your general view on androids as a societal topic.” He speaks as if he’s discussing the weather. “I’ve met many people who think quite negatively of androids for their impact on the job market, among other things. I was wondering how you saw androids due to your position and background.”

His words are fluid, somewhere between sounding rehearsed and spur-of-the-moment that it leaves you feeling off-kilter. Surreal. You’re not sure why he’s asking- did he hear something in real life, during his job, on the topic? Is he coming to you for your opinion? You’re not sure why.

It’s a cold reminder that the being you are speaking to is simply not human.

“Well, I mean…” You can’t keep your eyes on his--they look a hair too intense, too focused. You save the moment by looking out, into the meadow, as if any number of the flowers in the distance caught your attention. “They’re...helpful?”

You hear Connor let out a cut-off hum. Is he asking your opinion for a purpose?

It takes a few seconds to collect your thoughts in a way that sounds professional, deserving of your background and education that should have given you a bit of worth to speak on the topic. You are no expert by any means, but androids were a part of everyday life for a lot of people--they aren’t something you can just choose to ignore. Plus, working for Cyberlife, you can't really afford to have an unprofessional opinion.

“I think that the discovery of androids were a great aid to humanity,” you say, words coming out slowly. You're not sure why you’re so cautious about the words you’re using--he's just an android, it's not like he's going to argue with you. He doesn’t have an opinion. “...I think that, despite the employment issues, androids have been a great tool--” The word sits awkwardly in your mouth. “--in many fields of expertise. Medical, technological, research and development, even childcare.”

Is there a purpose to what you’re even saying? You’re answering the question of an android, what purpose would Connor even want to know--he didn’t even have the capability to have desires.

With the way you talk with Connor, sometimes you forget. But you shouldn’t. No matter what he says, what information he shares… he’s an android.

He’s not human. Why am I even being careful? It’s no different than taking survey answers, right? Asking without a purpose, without a desire--without a soul?

But you answer the question as honestly as you can.

“I’ve met a lot of people who share a less positive outlook than you do for androids in society,” Connor says, tone immeasurable. “It’s interesting to hear the opinions of those around me as I continue with the missions I’ve given.”

Your internal tension breaks, and a huff of amusement comes from your mouth before you can stop it. Connor looks over to you just as your eyes move back to meet his gaze.

“I mean,” You offer him a shrug. “I never thought an android would ask me on my opinions on androids.”

“I am programmed to learn from my environment,” Connor starts. Does he sound defensive?  “I am also equipped with a multitude of subroutines to help me incorporate myself in a variety of social situations. I felt it appropriate to ask since you say that you work within Cyberlife.”

“So, you’re curious,” Your words slip from your mouth before you can stop them, a moment of naive amusement against the forgotten truth.

Connor's gaze is hard and cold in return, a quick shift from the gentle look mere moments before. “I have already explained that I do not exhibit curiosity.” Connor definitely sounds defensive as he speaks and it, more than anything, seems surreal. “Seeking information is simply a byproduct of my programming to solve difficult cases that require complex thought processes to work through.”

Oh.

You swallow down a lump in your throat, cold reality settling into your thoughts. You try to save the moment between the two of you, scrabbling together the shredded pieces of the conversation with a half-genuine smile.

“That sounds like curiosity to me, however you want to explain it.”

Connor doesn’t seem to have a response to that. He doesn’t seem to meet your eyes at all after that, staring off instead into the distance, entrenched in his own thoughts. Is he angry at you?

Is it even possible for him to feel anger?

Ten minutes of tense silence later, you wish him curt farewell and log out of the program.

You’re not sure why, but you feel sad.