#didn't expect the huge response to my last piece

[lord-of-dorks]

- " Bene Requiem, Mi Rex Invenis " -

Even a sovereign must set down his burdens and rest. Dead or not,,,

I imagine that Nocturne and CW tag team their young liege on occasion. And who better than to watch over your rest amongst the cosmos then the King of Dreams?

Finally finished this one,,, The slightest tilt on this piece and the gold shimmers to life. Maybe I'll do an interpretation of CW sometime soon?

As always click for better quality<3

[writting-stuff-sometimes]

We should be best friends too Lando X Fem reader

Summary: Y/n is Pietra's best friend, she considers Max to be a nice guy, but who she really can't stand is Max's best friend, Lando. At Max's birthday party, Pietra asks just one thing, an easy, fun night, but with Y/N and Lando in the same room, this is almost impossible.

Warnings: Bad words and alcohol.

Word Count: 15K Notes: I suck at second parts, so I'm taking my time with the pt2 of "Playing with fire". In the meantime, here's something new. As always, feedback is greatly appreciated! Thanks for all your comments,

__________________________

"He's coming, isn't he?"

"Y/n, it's Max's best friend, please, please, please, no fights tonight"

"He's the one that always started them!"

"And you were amazing at going along instead of being the grownup and letting it go"

"Excuse me, who's your best friend?!"

"You, but please, just tonight, can you be extra patient with Lando?"

"I'll try"

Pietra had been dating Max for a year now, and it took four months for you to hate Lando. Almost every night you were together ended with a fight between you two. _____________________________

"Hey Mate, happy birthday!" You didn't need to turn to look at the door to recognize the voice owner. You sighed in annoyance.

"Friend of yours, I assume?" the guy standing in front of you, and whom you had been flirting with for the last hour, said with a sarcastic smile.

"Best friend" you rolled your eyes.

To keep your promise to Pietra you tried to stay away from Lando as much as possible and focus on the cute guy in front of you.

____________________________

"Let me get you a refill" Your date took the glass from your hand.

"Thanks"

"My pleasure" he winked at you and then leaned in to place a soft, quick peck on your lips. So far, the night seemed to be going better than expected, no interactions with Lando, and sex with a cute guy was coming your way.

"Isn't he a gentleman?!" His mocking voice was even more annoying.

You took a deep breath before turning around to face Lando.

"Fuck you"

"What's with the cursing? I was just making a statement, you seem to have great taste in men"

"Wish I could say the same about your date" You threw a quick glance toward the blond girl who had been all over Lando for the last 45 minutes, she had done nothing to you but you already disliked her and the childlike way she was giggling with her friends, probably talking about him.

"Ouch"

"Just move and stay away from..." you tried to walk past him but your stupid heel got caught on the carpet. Everything happened so fast. The Brit caught you mid-air, his arms around your waist as your hands fell on his torso, his black shirt was unbuttoned at the top, so your hand was against his skin.

"You ok?" You could have sworn you heard concern in his voice.

The tight grip on your waist and the feeling of his warm skin under your hand seemed to be a little too much for your alcohol-intoxicated brain to voice out a response, so you just nodded.

"If you wanted to cup a feel you could've just asked, you know you have a free pass"

And there he was again, the annoying self-centered prick.

"Please, don't flatter yourself, I would choose planking face first on the floor over this, any day." You pushed him hard, trying to shake away the feeling of his touch.

“And hurt that gorgeous face of yours?” His finger softly traced your cheek, down to your chin, but you pulled away “I would never let that happen. Also, I’ve been told my arms are nice and cozy.” He crossed his arms over his chest, making them seem even bigger.

“Too bad they are attached to a huge self-centered piece of shit like you!”

"Wow" Max's voice startled you. You had said that last phrase as the music changed from one song to another, so every person in the room had heard you, including the cute guy, who was now standing a couple steps away, staring at you.

"Y/n" the disappointed look on your best friend's face broke your heart a little.

"I'm sorry, P." You walked past Lando, took your bag, and left the flat.

A couple tears streamed down your face, falling on your cell screen as you searched for an Uber to take you home.

"Fuck!" you mouthed when the No cars Available text appeared on your screen. You closed the app and opened it again, wishing for a miracle. It was almost 2 am on a Tuesday, and getting an Uber in the middle of the suburbs was a nightmare, you walked to the end of the street, praying that from there, it would be easier to get a car, but again, nothing.

You closed your eyes and took deep breaths, trying to ease the tears, but the frustration and embarrassment were too strong.

A couple minutes later a car stopped right in front of you, from the engine sound it was a sports car, and you knew exactly who it belonged to. The driver's door opened, and you heard him walk towards you.

"Y/n" his voice was low.

"Go away" You didn't turn to look at him, your eyes were probably bloodshot from the tears, and you've had enough humiliation for one night. You opened the Uber app again to keep your sight down.

"Y/n, I'll take you home, come on" He walked to the passenger door and opened it.

"I'd rather crawl there" You answered bluntly.

Like a cruel joke, a sudden gust of wind blew against your body, and goosebumps covered your skin, it was unusually cold for July. As you walked to the threshold of the building, searching for some shelter, the bottoms of your feet reminded you of the heels you were wearing, if you dared to walk back home you might have to do it barefoot.

"Unless you're planning on going back inside, or a car has magically appear on the app..."

"How could I walk back inside there?" You cut him off "I just made a complete fool of myself because of you!" You finally turned to see him as a couple of tears threatened to fall from your eyes again. He looked down at the floor, he seemed embarrassed.

"Then please get in the car, I'll take you home...you don't have to talk to me if you don't want to" He offered you his hand.

You stared at him, he seemed honest and embarrassed. You hated yourself, the puppy eyes were actually working?

"Please, P and Max would kill me if I let you go home alone."

You sighed loudly and walked towards the car. You ignored his stretched-out hand, trying to make a statement, that you were doing it against your will.

As you got inside the car his scent hit you hard, you always claimed he used way too much cologne, but now it seemed nice, warm, almost pleasant, maybe finally being out of the cold was playing tricks on your mind.

The sound of his door shutting pulled you back from your thoughts.

When the car didn't move, you turned to look at him to find him staring back at you.

"What?" you asked in a low voice.

"The seatbelt" he answered as if it was obvious.

"Oh" you turned to pull on it as he started the car and drove away.

It was a quiet drive. From time to time, you discretely turned to look at Lando, whom you always thought was one of those annoying guys with sports cars that would find every little chance to show off, but he seemed to be a decent driver.

Your phone vibrated in your bag.

Pietra💗: Are you ok?

Y/n: Yes, I'm on my way home, I'm so sorry P 😔

Pietra 💗: Don't worry about it, Lando picked you up? He said he was going out to look for you.

Y/n: Yes 😒

Pietra 💗: Good, let me know when you get home, please don't kill him, he's truly embarrassed about how he behaved.

Y/n: Can't promise anything

"Pietra?"

"Yes" You answered without taking your eyes off the phone screen.

"Good to know I have witnesses in case I go missing" He looked at you with a mischievous grin as if you were great friends and this was an inside joke.

You turned to look at him, your face anything but friendly. Why was he acting like you were there because you were friends and not because he had been an asshole?

"Oook" He said in a low whisper and kept his attention on the road.

A few minutes later you heard a breathy laugh from the driver.

"What now?" You asked, breaking the silence.

"You look like a chihuahua"

"Excuse me?"

"You're trembling so much. Maybe you should have worn something more clothy" He stared down at your outfit, black shorts, a lacey bralette, and a matching black blazer.

"I was supposed to spend the night inside a flat"

"But you decided to throw a tantrum like a five-year-old and run out"

"It was all your fault! If you had stayed away from me, right now I would've been with..." You cut yourself off.

"With Mr. Charming?" He turned to look at you. "You just met him tonight." His tone was filled with judgment.

"Why do you care?" You turned to look at him with a raised brow. For some reason, the question threw him off balance, it was nice to be on the other end of the jokes and the messing around.

"Do you want me to care?" He turned to look at you when he stopped at a red light, your winning punch was short-lived.

"Pff, please." You were about to turn away when a sudden movement caught your attention. He turned his body towards you and his hand went behind your headrest. He stared at you deeply, and you stared back. What was he doing? He slowly moved towards you, and your breath quickened as you felt your body get warmer, why was he getting closer? Your mind screamed to move away, but your body didn't move an inch.

Your breath got caught in your throat when he was just inches away from your face.

"Here, put this on before you freeze" he whispered lowly, pulling a hoodie from behind your seat, his breath warmly caressing your blushing face. You stared at him confused.

"What?" He asked, a cocky grin on his face.

"Fuck you"

"If only I had a swear jar." He placed the hoodie on your lap and put the car in movement when the light changed to green.

You contemplated throwing the hoodie back to him, but the cold was teeth chattering, so you got it on. The smell of his cologne intensified, and it felt... it felt nice. You hated how much you seemed to like it. Maybe he had changed colognes, usually, you would find it repulsive.

He turned on the radio, that stupid grin still on his face.

You were getting close to your house, a weird feeling in your chest. Was it sadness? Why would you feel sad about getting home?

Suddenly, the car turned towards a Starbucks drive-thru.

"What are you doing?"

"You're still trembling and I'm out of hoodies, maybe coffee will help you get warm"

He got to the speaker and ordered your favorite drink and a hot chocolate for him.

“How did you know?”

“That coffee gets you warm? It’s basic knowledge, I know you think I’m stupid, but I know things, you know?”

“How do you know my coffee order?”

“Oh, umm the weekend you and Pietra stayed at my house in Mónaco I ordered coffee and P told me what you liked”

“It’s been ages since that happened"

“Yeah..." A weird look on his face, as if he had been caught red-handed. He turned to look away as he approached the window to receive the order.

"Here"

You took the warm cup off his hand. Who was this person?

You held the cup close to your body, giving in to the heat.

"Thanks" You smiled back at him.

"No problem" He drove off as you took a sip from the warm, delicious liquid.

"Is it working?"

"It is, it's nice... why are you doing this?"

"I don't want you to get sick"

"Why?"

"Because being sick sucks?"

"Why are you being nice?" You insisted

"I don't get the question"

"You've never been this nice to me. You're usually picking on me and... being annoying"

"I'm not"

"Yes, you are. You're always calling me names, saying I'm spoiled, uptight, a control freak, you also mock the guys I go out with, the music I listen to, the movies I like..."

"Weeeellll, you started with the name calling"

"Me?!"

"Uuh, yes"

“When?!”

“P’s birthday party last year”

“We had only known each other for like a month back then. What could I've done to you? I didn’t even talk to you that day."

“Well, it wasn’t TO me, but it was about me.”

You stared at him confused, and he continued.

“A friend of yours asked if you liked F1 and you said hell naw, they’re just a bunch of nepo babies that only know how to spin a wheel” He tried to mimic your voice. You were about to protest but he was right.

“In my defense, that was a private conversation... and the world does not revolve around you, I wasn't talking about you, I was talking about all the drivers"

“We’ll you were at a public party, and that statement doesn't really help your case"

You stared down at the coffee cup between your hands. This was embarrassing. Was all this feud with him your fault? You could have sworn he had started it, damn! You were a hundred percent sure it was his fault.

“Why do you hate us drivers so much?”

“It’s not you, it’s the sport… my ex was a big fan, and it ended up bad with him so..."

"...the breakup wasn't my fault" you quickly added.

"I didn't think it was" He tried to cover a mocking smile with his chocolate cup.

"Yeah, right" You rolled your eyes as a faint smile sneaked from your lips.

"Well, too bad an idiot made you hate us all"

It was seriously embarrassing, you could've sworn you were over the stupid breakup with Evan, but he seemed to still find ways to ruin your life even in an indirect way.

"I ...I'm sorry"

"That's new" He joked

"Don't make me regret saying that"

"Sorry" His big smile was kind of cute.

"But really, I'm sorry I was mean, I should not have projected my breakup on you"

"Well..." He parked in front of your building and turned off the engine. "I'm sorry I was childish and tried to get you to like me by bullying you, I swear I'm out of my 6-year-old phase"

"You wanted me to like you?"

"Yeah, you're my best mate's girlfriend's best friend, so if we're going to see each other so much, we should be best friends too. Also, you're actually nice, you don't have bad taste in music..."

"And I have a gorgeous face... your words, not mine"

The curly hair bounced as he laughed at your comment, and you could swear you saw him blushing.

"And you have a really, REALLY gorgeous face"

"Thanks" You framed your face with your hands in an exaggerated flirty way. "Sooo, drinking and driving is against the law even if it's nonalcoholic, and your house is far enough for your chocolate to get cold by the time you get there, as a peace offering, do you want to come up and finish our drinks in a warmer place?

"That would be nice" He smiled taking off his seatbelt fast, as if he was already waiting for the invitation.

He opened the car door for you and walked behind you, shielding your body from the cold British air. You had been so focused on hating him that you didn`t realize how polite and funny he was. It was like meeting a completely new person.

The elevator dinged, letting you know you had arrived at your floor. As you were about to walk out Lando grabbed your wrist and pulled you back in, making you clash against his chest, almost dropping your drink. He stared into your eyes, searching for any sign that you were uncomfortable. He must've seen the fire in his eyes reflected on yours, so he leaned in to kiss your lips, and you kissed him back.

The arm that held your cup wrapped around his neck as your free hand went to make a fist with his curls, one of his arms wrapped around your waist, and his free hand went to your neck, his fingers keeping a blood-rushing grip on it.

He broke the kiss and gave a soft bite to your lower lip.

"Sorry, couldn't help it" He sheepishly smiled as his hand moved from your neck to caress your cheek. "The sexual tension was killing me"

The elevator dinged again, and you were back down in the lobby. As the door opened, a young couple got on it. A knowing smile on their faces as they said hello.

You pushed the 7th-floor button again and stepped back against Lando's chest as he wrapped his arms around your waist. You could see the guy looking at the driver attentively.

"Hi, sorry to bother you, are you Lando Norris?"

"Yes" the Brit answered shyly.

"Damn, big fan, can I take a picture?"

"Sorry mate, I'm with my lady, but I can sign something for you if you want"

"Sure" He took a piece of paper from his wallet as the girl took a pen from her bag. "Thanks so much"

"Sure, mate, thanks for understanding"

The elevator dinged on their floor.

"Don't worry about it, have a good night." The couple exited and you turned to look at Lando as the elevator continued with its journey up.

"Your lady?" You asked with a raised brow.

"It sounds good, doesn't it?" He gave a small peck on your lips.

"I'll have to think about it" The elevator dinged again, and you took his hand, pulling him towards your apartment.

"Wait! Did you do all of this just so you could get inside my pants?" He pulled his shirt together, dramatically covering his chest, as you opened the apartment door.

"You wish." You answered as you pulled him inside.

Tag List: @wtrmlnsgr94, @ricsaigaslec

Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list.

[ahotmesswithprivilege]

Never Alone

paring: Bradley Bradshaw x female!IC!reader (callsign Nike )

wordcount: ca. 3700 (only because this will be a multi-part thing XD)

synopsis: When Bradley stumbles out of the Hard Deck with a pretty tag chaser he has a plan for the night. Take her home, fuck her, kick her out. Not that this was something he did often but with the stress at work he needed to let off some steam. That is until he hears someone crying and his night takes a turn he hadn't expected at all.

note: I initially intended to post the whole thing (currently at almost 12000 words 🤯 ), but I really wanted to post a new piece and since I started a lot of new WIP instead of finishing something I thought this would be a good idea. Also, my Rooster debut so to speak (you can thank @mynameismckenziemae for this one. The fact that Rooster is the hero in this one is kind of on her 😅 . Thanks for helping me decide and for listening to my rambles on the regular. I am really thankful for the support) and I hope you all like it. And you know that navy inaccuracies are a given with my stuff, but this time I went a bit more ham than usual. The role of IC (Incident Commander) is existing in crisis and natural disaster management but fuck if I know if some work for the Navy. I made all of that up for the sake of the plot. Don't like that, please skip this one. And last but not least, yes this is yet again very self-indulgent stuff and it will get only worse with the next part, so if you don't like it, click off 😘

Trigger Warning(If I forgot something or you want me to add to the list, my inbox is wide open. You are responsible for your media consumption, so proceed with caution, you know the drill): plus-size!reader, military/navy inaccuracies, non-canon (not even sure if this is canon compliant so, take that as you will), allusion to trauma/dissociative episode, written by a non-native speaker

|| Masterlist ||

divider by @sweetmelodygraphics banner by @firefly-graphics gif by @jensens-ackles

!!!Minors do not interact! I block blank blogs/without age/Minors!!!

When Bradley stumbles out of the Hard Deck with a pretty tag chaser on his arm he knows how this is gonna end. Take her home, have some fun and then kick her out. He wasn't one to indulge often, but considering how Maverick had been on his ass during training all week, he really needed to let off some steam. His arms were wrapped around her waist, lips wandering over her neck as he manoeuvred her back towards his Bronco until he stopped in his tracks.

There it was again. He had almost missed it with the busty brunette giggling into his ear, but he was sure that he heard right. "Hey Casanova, I am down here", she puts a hand on his cheek to pull his focus back to her," You wanted to show me a good time, remember?" But Rooster couldn't focus on the way her hands were roaming his body or the way she began to kiss his jaw, leaving a trace of lipgloss in her wake. "Didn't you hear that? Someone's crying" "That's just a girl who got what you promised me", she retorts, but it only makes him cringe. If this is how she imagined the sound of a consenting couple, he sure as fucking hell didn't want her in his bed.

Untangling himself from her limbs he walked over to the dark place next to a huge palm tree. The curled-up figure was barely visible in the shadows, but the sniffling was getting louder the closer he walked. "Hey what about me?", the woman whines, stomping her high heel sandal-clad foot on the ground. "Go in and find yourself another set of tags", he growls back annoyed, regretting the tone of his voice and the volume the moment he sees the figure flinch.

This was bad.

For a moment he wondered if he should call Phoenix or even Penny to make sure he wasn't doing more damage than good, but then he saw how a ring caught the light from the Hard Deck entrance. He knows that ring. The silver laurel branches that are winding around a delicate finger. He has seen it more than once.

"Nike?", he freezes for a moment unable to compute the situation. He had been at the Hard Deck all night and was sure he would have spotted you in the crowd. Not to mention that you weren't one for bars. You said as much yourself whenever one of the others had invited you for an evening out. "Hey Nike, it's me. Rooster", he tries to make himself small as he approaches, not wanting to intimidate you, voice soft and gentle. "Are you...", he begins before he stops himself. Was he really just about to ask you if you were ok? It's so goddamn fucking obvious that you are not, so he settles for something else. "What happened, Nike?" You were still sitting there, legs pulled close to your body, head resting on your knees as you cried. He moved another step closer when you suddenly looked up at him as if only now you realised that someone was there. "Rooster?"

Your chest was heaving, your fingers nervously drumming on your kneecaps while you tried to focus on him, clearly struggling with the situation "Yeah. It's me. Shall I call someone?", he asked and as soon as he mentioned the call you began frantically shaking your head, reaching a trembling hand out to him to grab the wrist of the hand that was about to reach into his pocket. "No, please don't" He pulls his hand back out of his pocket and lifts it up in the air to signal surrender. "Ok, I'm not"

Bradley only knows you as IC. The woman for the impossible jobs and who you call when shit hit the fan and you need someone to fix it. A woman tough as nails and level-headed who always has a backup plan for the backup plan to make sure you got your people home safe and you were fucking brilliant at it. They named you after the goddess of victory for a reason. Whenever he was on a mission you were responsible for he felt a lot calmer and he knew he wasn't the only one. People trusted your competence and your judgement. They trusted you.

Hell, you were probably the only person on planet Earth to tell Admiral Simpson no if you thought something was a shitty idea and lived to tell the tale.

"Then say what you need Nike. Please?", he pleads feeling completely helpless. He has never seen you so utterly terrified and there is a feeling rising in his chest that makes him want to knock on the door of whoever left you so scared and very impolitely beat the shit out of them. You loosen the grip on his wrist and let your hand glide down his arm until yours is in his and he gives you a reassuring squeeze. Even with his fingers wrapped around yours, he can feel the trembling. When you finally answer him your voice is barely above a whisper. "A place to stay"

He didn't need to hear anything else. He just nodded and pulled you up by the hand that was still clinging to his own. Your feet were wobbly and the heels didn't make it any better. His eyes wandered over you, assessing whether there was any injury that he had to be mindful of before he let go of your hand for a second, the terror lighting back up in your eyes immediately. "It's ok, Nike. I am here", his voice is low and raspy as he places one hand on your back and bends down, placing the other under your knees to pick you up bridal style. He felt the way your body seemed to relax in his hold, face buried in his neck as he rested his head on yours before he murmured into your hair. "Let's get you home"

At a red light on the drive to his place he looks down where your hand is still holding his, his thumb gently petting the back of your hand while your head rested on his shoulder. In all the years of knowing you, he's never seen you so close to someone else. You usually prefer to keep people out of your personal space. It was something everyone on base respected and that makes him wonder.

You were so strong, so resourceful and intelligent. You had seen so much shit in your life and 9 times out of ten they called you in when it already hit the fan, so you were no stranger to working under immense pressure, the lives of people depending on the shots you were calling. How could someone bring you into a position where you would be so utterly terrified that it'd push you into a state that looked like a full-blown anxiety attack?

Considering the pretty dress, the heels and your by now smudged make-up it was likely you'd been out today and since bars and clubs are not your scene, he figures it must have been a restaurant. The thought that someone treated you so badly was infuriating him. You had dedicated your life to protecting people, making sure that they get back home to their families and loved ones unharmed. To treat someone like you bad enough to send you spiralling called for a grade-A asshole and a part of him hoped you'd tell him the name later. He would gladly pay that asshat a visit and he would bet, the rest of the dagger squad would happily tag along.

It's not much later when he puts the Bronco in park in front of his house, feeling the way you instantly stiffen next to him. "I'll go ahead and open the door", your grip around his hand tightens even more. You are holding on to him for dear life. Bradley Bradshaw was your lifeline right now and to be someone you trusted so much filled his heart with pride. He only wished he would have found out under different circumstances.

"I'll be right back, Nike", he hears you stifle a sob while you tremble. Whether it's the chill night air or your fear, he is not quite sure and so he leans to the side to press a gentle kiss on your forehead. "You tell me when you are ready", he adds, pulling you into an embrace as the two of you sit here in his car. He'd stay here with you for hours if you needed it. "Promise you'll come back" "I promise", he looks down at you and you nod. Letting go of his hand so he can get out of the car. Brad cannot remember any other time when he ran up the steps to his house this fast, unlocking the door and grabbing the quilt from his couch before he gets right back to you.

Seeing the way your eyes light up when you see him as he opens the car door makes his heart soar and ache at the same time. "Told you, I'd come for you Nike", he steps closer and gently places the blanket around your shoulders and when he picks you up again he feels how you instantly melt into his embrace. "I'll always come for you"

He tried to kick his front door closed as quietly as he could to not spook you even more and kept the lights off too as he made his way to his bedroom. From there he goes into the en-suite and sits you down on the counter. "Blanket on or off?" "Off" He nods, taking the colourful patchwork off of your shoulders and throwing it in the corner where he usually stores his dirty laundry. He could deal with that some other time. "I'll turn on my bedside lamp in the other room. Close your eyes and I’ll tell you when to look”, he was looking for any sign that you needed another moment but you nodded.

So he turns around and walks into his bedroom, turning on the lamp and throwing the next best piece of fabric over it to dim the light. It was enough to see something but not too much on your eyes that had probably gotten used to the darkness outside. "You can open your eyes", he says, turning back to look at you, eyes wandering over you for a moment to see if there was any injury that he had missed in the darkness outside the Hard Deck but he couldn't find anything. On his way back to you he rummaged around in his drawer, finding a Phillies jersey that could fit you if the dress wasn't comfortable enough for you to sleep in.

"I'm back", he announces himself and sees how your entire body relaxes, shoulders lowering and fingers no longer playing nervously with your ring. "I'm gonna take your shoes off first" He throws the jersey over his shoulder before he goes down on his knees, unlacing your oxford heels, every move slow and deliberate, before he places them down on the floor under the cabinet, to get them out of the way. He is looking up at you from his crouched position. He wants to seem as non-threatening as possible for what comes next.

"Do you want to keep your dress on or change into a shirt?", he asks, taking the jersey from his shoulder and showing it to you. He sees the way you are contemplating for a long while, brow furrowed and teeth sinking into your lower lip before you reach out for the worn-out material. It's soft and you are digging your fingers into the material and holding onto it the way you'd been holding onto his hand. Holding on for dear life.

"Want me to stay or wait outside?", he asks, not wanting to put you into a worse situation than you are already in. Damn, he wished you would have allowed him to get Phoenix or Penny, then this would have been not as bad by a long shot. You are quiet for a while and he wonders if you've drifted off again the way he found you in front of the Hard Deck, but then your gaze finds his and you take a deep breath. "Can you help with the zipper?" "Of course"

He gets up and watches you jump off the counter, your stance much more stable now that the heels are off. It's more the look he's used of you and it gives him the feeling that he's at least doing something right here. You turn around, his jersey still pressed to your chest, looking down at the washed-out red and white fabric as if it gave you some form of solace. Bradley takes a step closer, his eyes searching yours in the mirror to make sure you know what would come next and when you give him a nod he reaches out his hand, gently pulling down the zipper. Underneath the fabric is some sort of underdress all laced up with a pretty bow. Fuck. He would have never taken you for the corset-wearing type of gal.

You let the dress slide down to the floor before you pull his jersey over your head. He wants to help you to smooth it down your body but you shake your head and his hands are off immediately. "Sorry" "No...Can you untie...?" This time he's the one nodding, letting his hands glide under the fabric, pulling at the laces to undo the bow and then loosening them enough so you could let it glide down your body too and step out. The pile of fabric, tulle and boning is on the floor and he sees that you attempt to lean down, your hand on the counter for balance in order to pick your clothes up but he's faster. "Thank you" “I can put this on a hanger for you”, he nods over to where he usually stores his drying shirts. “There are loops...”, you start and he easily finds them, placing them on the hanger's hooks before he puts them on the clothes rail. As his eyes wander over the dress, he's wondering for a moment who you had met to doll up like this. "Anything else?"

He sees the way you are thinking, fighting with yourself "Whatever it is, if I can do it, I will" "Can you help with the stockings?" You don't meet his eye, probably embarrassed to make yourself vulnerable in front of a coworker like this but right now Rooster doubts that there is anything in this world he wouldn't do for you.

So for the second time tonight, Bradley Bradshaw lets himself fall onto his knees, feeling your hand on his shoulder for support while both hands are smoothing up your calf to your knee and under the jersey, feeling where the nylon ended so he could pull it down for you. His eyes are glued to the ground to make this at least a little less awkward for you. Once the fabric is gone, he switches to the other side and repeats the same movement before he looks up at you, the bunched-up material ending up under the sink next to your shoes.

"You good, Nike?", he asks, eyes searching your face for any sign that he's overstepped but all he finds is that gentle expression of fondness on your face, not quite a smile but considering the circumstances, Bradley would settle for this. You give him a small nod, hand moving from his shoulder closer to the crook of his neck, fingers lingering on his scars and Brad couldn't help but close his eyes at the gentle touch, willing his body to stay perfectly still to not destroy this moment of peace. Not for you and not for him. "Thank you Rooster", he's had your voice in his ear so often, assertive and commanding, but now your voice was gentle, as much a caress for him as your fingers. "For you, always", he looks up at you and for a moment he feels like the world stops turning and he wonders if given another chance at a different time, you would return to his home and allow him to prove to you that there were men out there who could treat you right.

When you finally pull back your hand he slowly moves up to stand before you, towering over you but you don't flinch. Bradley Bradshaw doesn't make you feel you need to and he cannot help but feel a pride rising in his chest that of all people, you chose him to put your trust in. "Now let's get you into bed", he steps to the side, letting you walk past him with his hand hovering over the small of your back. His hand wants to touch, but he doesn't want to push. Not after the night you had. That is until he realises that you are walking towards the door.

"Where do you think you are going?" "Couch" Fuck no. He would not make you sleep on that thing that was short and so worn out that it'd surely break your back. But what was even worse than the idea of you on his couch was the fact you believed that he would allow, let alone want that. Getting his hands back on you he picks you up bridal style and carries you back over to the bed. "You take the bed" "Rooster..." "No" There is a small smile playing on his lips. It reminds him of the first time he met you way back when.

You had just finished the mission briefing when Hangman suggested a change to the plans and your only reply was: "No" "What no?" "No", you looked Hangman straight in the eyes, pretty brow arched, and everyone in the room could feel the fury start to simmer in Hangman's veins at the way you're dismissing him and his points so easily. "No is a complete sentence, Lieutenant Seresin. Considering your reputation as base casanova I was hoping you'd understand the concept" That was the moment Rooster knew that he liked you.

Rooster was a navy guy and could sleep wherever, even on the hardwood floor if he had to, but you needed some proper rest. He lays you down on the bed as gently as possible and when he straightens his back he sees the expression on your face. It's such a wild swirl of emotions that are washing over your features, ever-changing like the ocean, that he doesn't know what to expect next, but it sure as hell wasn't this. "I'm scared of being alone"

He knows that this is far more than a simple statement. It is your way to ask for him to stay, to have him around for your comfort. It's not like he doesn't want to, but there is a part of him that wonders if this would be something you'd come to regret the next morning. He had always known you as someone who loved her personal space, avoiding even handshakes whenever you could. He had his hands all over you tonight and he didn't want to push his luck, but then he saw your pleading eyes and he smiled down at you. "I'll just get into some comfortable clothes and then I'm right back", he leans down and presses a soothing kiss to your forehead. He couldn't remember the last time he had been this soft around someone and yes, the circumstances were shitty at best, but there was a part of his heart that revelled in the gentleness of these moments. "Thank you, Bradley"

He has to stop himself for a moment, eyes wide with surprise as he looks at you. Never before have you used his first name. It was always Lieutenant, Bradshaw, Rooster or a combination of those three, usually depending on how pissed you were at him for fucking around with your meticulous mission plans. There was a flicker of fear that washed over your face as the realisation hit you what you just said but he reached out his hand, gently resting on your cheek, thumb caressing your skin. "No need to thank me, Nike. I am glad if I can help"

He allows himself another moment to enjoy the feeling of your soft skin against his before he pulls back and turns to grab some fresh clothes to sleep in and heads to the bathroom. His movements are hurried, almost frantic while he gets out of his clothes and ready for bed. All the while feeling a fear creeping up on him. He closed the door, to make sure to respect your boundaries but now he regretted it. It meant he couldn't check in on you, couldn't make sure that you were ok and not spiralling. Throwing his worn clothes over to the hamper without caring if he actually hit or not he just pulls on his sweat pants and opens the door, muscle shirt still in hand as he walks into the bedroom and pulls it over his head.

When he reached the bed where you had curled up already, he crouched down to be on eye level with you. “Tell me what you need from me", his voice is soft and quiet as he talks, pushing a strand of hair out of your face and behind your ear. He sees how you try to sink even deeper into the pillow as if you wanted to hide from him and that makes his heart ache. "Remember Nike. Whatever you need as long as I can make it happen, you'll get it" "Can you...", your voice is barely above a whisper and when he tries to meet your gaze you turn around and scoot over on the bed to make room for him. "I just really don't want to be alone"

You feel the way the mattress is dipping under his weight but you cannot bring yourself to turn around and look him in the eye. "You are not alone Nike", his voice is close to your ear and you can feel the way his breath is fanning out over your cheek and neck. And then you surprise him when you reach behind him and take his hand to place it over your waist, your fingers interlaced with his as your thumb drummed a nervous rhythm into the palm of his hand. "You are never alone"

Part 2

likes, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated as always

If you want to read more you can find my masterlist HERE

[queen-of-hawkins-why-ler]

I just finished my s3 rewatch yesterday and I need to talk about how heartbreaking Mike's sequence is in the final scenes. You can literally see his reaction to figuring out that he's gay evolve from initial confusion, to shock, to devastation and distress as well as immense fear about what comes next.

When El kisses him, he realizes right off the bat that something about the kiss is "off," though not necessarily bad. He's kind of left wondering, "Huh? What the hell was that about?" asking himself why the kiss didn't mean more to him and why he couldn't bring more passion to the kiss, especially in light of the fact that he's not going to see El for a very long time. It's not the reaction of someone who just realized something about themselves, but the reaction of someone who realizes that something is just not quite right. Mike does not immediately realize he's gay, he's just like, "I wonder why I feel this way."

It's not until the kids are outside watching the Byers family leave that Mike is starting to put the pieces together. He's just had his final interaction with both Will and El for the time being. He's just said his goodbyes, and as he's watching the moving van drive away, he's realizing that his feelings about Will and El leaving are not what he expected them to be. "Will can come, too," is what he told El when El was talking about coming to visit over the holidays, but he's realizing that he didn't just invite Will to tag along as a third wheel to what would essentially be a romantic reunion between El and himself. He's realizing that Will is not secondary to his relationship with El and never has been. Will is the one he finds himself thinking about and pining for as he watches Will and El slip out of his life. Mike is the last party member to leave the Byers' residence, and we see him glancing back at the house, the place where he's shared so many memories with Will, and as he starts biking back to his own house, he realizes that he has a lot to contemplate and come to terms with on his ride there.

I believe he has the ACTUAL realization that he's gay on his bike ride home, once everything starts falling into place for him: El kissed him and he felt nothing. Will was the one he was thinking about as he watched the Byers family leave Hawkins; not El. He took one last good look at Will's house and realized that the most important and tender connection he has in his life is the relationship he has with Will: not the one he has with El.

And then, by the time he gets home, he's successfully figured out what it all means and he's in shock. Not only is he in shock, but he feels trapped now. Horrified of the implications of what this means for him, what it means for his relationship what his family, and what it means for his relationships with both Will and El, neither of which he will very easily be able to nurture or work on now that Will and El will be across the country from him. He's just discovered the most shocking, life-changing fact about himself--something that will change the trajectory of his life and will be a great source of suffering and oppression for him--and he's going to have to navigate it and figure it out all by himself, without any help, understanding, love or support from his own family, the Byers family, or his friends.

He hugs his mom and feels the weight of it all hitting him at once. He's thinking about how his mom may love him and want to be there for him now, in this moment, but there may come a time when she will no longer be there for him. He's realizing what this means for his relationships with El and Will. No doubt he feels a huge amount of responsibility to love and be there for El. El loves him and depends on him, and the fact that he's been there for her this entire time, he's already set the precedent for El herself, Hopper, and his own friends that he's going to be that for her: someone who loves and defends her. He feels the crushing guilt of knowing that he's going to let every single one of those people down by being gay. Of knowing that El loves and depends on him and that he can't love her back.

And then there's his relationship with Will, which he no doubt believes will be negatively affected by these newfound feelings. In his mind, Will is his best friend but also someone who is "normal" like the rest of the boys. Will may be a bit of a late bloomer, but he's going to grow up, start talking to girls, and have a girlfriend of his own soon enough. And Mike probably believes that from this point onward, his relationship with Will is going to be awkward, distant, and emotionally stunted by the fact that he's secretly in love with Will.

My poor BABY. I just can't even imagine the weight he must have felt once he realized he was gay and all of these crashing, painful realizations just slammed him all at once. In a matter of minutes, he realized he was going to be ostracized, alone, and a huge letdown to everyone in his life and that he'd have to face this all by himself.

[mixelation]

Just thought of smth. How do you headcannon the lgbt situation in Mutagenicity? Because I'm imagining Deidara and Itachi getting into one of their usual fights and Tori yelling "Would you two just kiss already?!" which then prompts the following reactions

Itachi who's been raised as a good little breeding stud for the Uchiha and Konoha as a whole "Don't be ridiculous Tori, two people of the same gender cannot be in a romantic partnership. How would we secure future generations of shinobi?"

Deidara who's a result of one of those breeding programs and is done with the whole thing "Ugh, with that asshole? Please I like to think i have some taste."

And Kushina who's been suppressing her desire to make out with Itachi's mom since grade school because of her own insecurities about being the last of a clan "Now now boys, it's perfectly natural to want to wrestle your friends into the dirt and have your way with them, but you have to stop it when you get older so you can make lots of cute babies, dattebane!"

Ha!

Personally my preference for Naruto fics is that people are largely cool with same gender relationships. That being said, sexism definitely exists in ninjaland, so certainly there's going to be some expectations about how romantic/sexual relationship "should" work. In Mutagenicity specifically, Itachi has been brought up with the idea that he needs to eventually marry someone with a working womb and produce a child.

However, I've been thinking about this more like... It's normal for ninja off stuck at war to have relationships with each other, and ninja skew male, so gay sex (especially among men) is pretty normalized. Then you get home from war and actually the dude you've been hooking up with is also your best friend who's saved your life twice, and you move in together and hold hands in public sometimes and no one will bat an eye. Gay dating maybe gets an eyebrow raise but for rando ninja, no one really cares. People only start having Opinions on your relationships if 1) you have a bloodline limit, or 2) you have specific clan duties related to having a biological child (so, you have a bloodline limit or some other heritable traits valuable to your clan, OR you have some sort of responsibility to make an heir). For Itachi, he both has a ""strong"" sharingan his clan wants him to pass on, AND he's supposed to make himself an heir.

People like Sasuke and Shisui, who are NOT heirs but are important Uchiha also with "strong" sharingan, probably have some expectations/social pressure from both the clan and society at large to make sharingan babies, but they could probably settle down with a man without causing a huge fallout. At some point Deidara will probably start getting weird comments about if his children will inherit things, but he doesn't have his own clan to pressure him and I can't see Minato's administration actively pushing him. Kushina almost definitely felt like she needed her own child to continue the Uzumaki, which is why she went for a super risky pregnancy over adoption, but also I think she and Minato also just.... really wanted a kid and their own little family, regardless. Like they make sure Naruto gets her clan name and not Minato's to continue that, but neither of them are upset Naruto didn't inherit the Uzuamki bloodline limit. Naruto is there because they love each other and just want a kid. If Kushina had fallen in love with a woman instead and wanted to marry her, I think she would have just gone "whatever, I'm marrying who I want because I do what I want, and I'll figure out getting a sperm donor later."

So, for Mutagenicity, it would be semi-fine if Itachi were gay and had a side piece who's his "real" romantic partner; he just needs the official wife and heir for political/pass-on-the-sharingan reasons. If he really wanted to, he could probably pull a "well, I'm clan head, and I say I want a husband," and then everyone would be mad for decades and the clan would insist he make a baby via surrogate (this is the Homemade Dynamite route, BTW, except all the clan elders are dead and Mikoto supports Itachi marrying Deidara because who else could possibly handle her freak son). However, Mutagenicity!Itachi isn't gay; he's asexual. He's shit out of luck. His lung condition does mean the clan is like "uuuuh well maybe it's time to bring in some outside genes--" so if he tricks the one woman he knows who's his age and can also stand hanging out with him into dating him, everyone will leave him alone--

Anyway, I think everyone on Team 4 knows same gender relationships are an option. I do think Itachi is very bad at recognizing he can have what he wants, so he might not consider it's an option for him specifically.... but Mutagenicity!Itachi specifically isn't super into men, because he's not really into anyone.*

*I think I do have meta somewhere where Itachi's like "why can't I just marry Shisui :(" and this thought isn't because Itachi is attracted to Shisui, it's because Shisui is someone Itachi cares about deeply, gets along with, and therefore he can see himself enjoying living with for the rest of his life. If Shisui fulfilled the requirement of "can give birth," Itachi would marry him in a second.

[lemotmo]

This has been fun to watch. Also Buddie ❤️

Q. Good evening. I have several questions so feel free to answer what you would like. Thank you! Do you really think Tim won't bring him back at all now? And has he not ever called out Buddie shippers before? You clearly love Buddie so why don't you call yourself a shipper? Also Kristen seems to be pretty pro Buck/Tommy and very anti Buddie does she really not have any say? I've noticed you seem pretty protective of Eddie is he your favorite?

A. Good evening, anon. That is quite a few questions, but thank you for not sending them as different questions because my ask box is already full. I will answer these as best as I can (but you brought Kristen into my ask box so if the answer upsets you, I'm sorry but not sorry because I despise her). First of all, no Tim has not had to call out the Buddie shippers before. There is a huge 'annoyance' difference between 80 tweets or comments asking for the deleted karaoke scene and 60 comments telling them they're homophobic pieces of shit for not showing more Tommy. Those two comments are not the same. They do not illicit the same tonal response. One would get a kind of exasperated but essentially fond eye roll the other gets you blocked. Tim has mentioned Buddie shippers in the past but he never did it to publicly scold them, and he mentioned the B/T shippers specifically to call the behavior out. He brought them up. He made a point of bringing it up. He made a point of giving examples so the audience would know which fandom he was talking about. Look I'm not suggesting that the Buddie fandom doesn't have douchebags because every fandom does. But those voices are not the big voices in their fandom. The actresses who have played Buck/Eddie love interests can attest to the fact that they received some pretty gross comments. But they were never the target of an outright hate campaign orchestrated against them. Size is not the only significant difference between the two fandoms. And Tim had every right to call them out. It was actually long overdue on his part.

I do still think that Tommy will be back, but I don't think it will be for more than a handful of episodes, if that. And I don't look for him to have many scenes. I do think story wise it makes more sense to have his reaction/response to certain things. However if Tim/ABC said it's not worth the grief they can get away with him not being around because his character isn't the point of any of this. It's going to be ugly when he's written out, whenever that is. I think Tim mentioning that fandom in that interview was kind of his way of acknowledging that they know what's coming. I will say though that the powers that be have clearly given the approval for the cast, crew, and others involved in the show to block whoever they want to block. So we will probably see much more of it than any of them will.

I love Buck and Eddie. I love them. It is no secret on my blog. They're everywhere on my blog. I don't specifically describe myself as a shipper (yet) because I never thought the show would actually go there and I didn't want to be gutted when they didn't happen. Not everyone can do that. It's hard to do but I made myself do it for self preservation only. I wanted them, but I didn't want to allow myself to expect them because I didn't believe the show would ever really go there. I followed Oliver and Ryan's leads and they never openly encouraged anything. They were polite and thankful for the love but they never allowed themselves to engage in it, until this past season. Everything changed last season. They fully embraced it, they engaged with it, they encouraged it, and they even openly discussed the prospect of a relationship. That had NEVER happened before. Not only were Oliver and Ryan engaging in it but ABC went all in on them. When they were on the other network Buddie was kind of like this toy, marketing wise, that they pulled out and dangled in front of their audience every time they wanted/needed some attention. It was like 'hey here's this thing that you really love come watch them act like a family and look fondly at one another but no homo'. It got tiresome because it was clear what they were doing. Now, Tim had moved to Lonestar by this time so he's not to blame for that particular game. But it was a game I was completely uninterested in playing. Everything changed the moment they moved to ABC. That was their best, and frankly last, chance to try and change the dynamics between them, and instead they doubled down on them. I now genuinely believe they will be canon by the end of this season (and I will ship ship ship away 💗). They started the setup in episode 4 of last season and the show has not made it difficult to follow at all. It's mostly why Lou's fans are angry most of the time. The show has been obvious in what they're doing.

I would love to know what Kristen did that made you think she was pretty pro B/T, because if its based on that scene from the finale you all have got to get higher standards. That was not a declaration of support. I cannot think of a single obvious pro Tommy thing she has done. You're correct in that she doesn't like Buddie, but that's because she doesn't like the attention they get. And honestly she genuinely seems to not like or understand M/M pairings. And I think that's her real problem. She doesn't understand why people care about them. She doesn't care to write for them. Which is why she has no business being anywhere near them. For anyone in here position to have come out and openly said stick to fanfiction means she has no idea what her actual job is. Whether the tile is co or lead showrunner your job is to encourage engagement. Your job is to understand and listen, at least somewhat, to your audience. She gave her audience the middle finger and openly mocked them. That is not anyone who deserves the job she has. Period.

Lastly, the Eddie nonsense is mind boggling. And honestly the funniest result of Tim's interview has been the desperate attempt from several in the Lou fandom to backtrack on their Eddie hate. Eddie was the worst possible character that fandom could have picked to go after because Tim loves him. I know that's weird because Tim is constantly trying to kill him but Tim loves Eddie and Ryan. The moment that fandom turned their claws on him it was over. And what's even more ridiculous was they were talking about how awful and worthless Eddie is as a character while frantically trying to make his entire character history Tommy's backstory. It was pathetic. I love Eddie, love and adore him. I want better things for him. I want him free of the Shannon nonsense. But Tommy's fans don't get to take it back now. They don't get to try and say 'oh I hope Eddie and Tommy get actual friend scenes this season' because they don't really want that. They just desperately need Tim to think they've learned their lesson. They don't deserve Eddie.

Yeah, I agree with most of this. I won't go into every topic, but I will say this:

I too think that Tommy will be back for a couple of scenes. He has to fulfill the role he came there to do in Buck's storyline.

I would honestly prefer it if he would never appear again. Not because of the character. I don't really like Tommy very much, but as a plot device he has a job to do and I respect the story. But there is no doubt Lou's presence on the set will once again result in a lot of 'Told you so' posts from the BT stans in the beginning. And when Tommy eventually leaves the show, they will be angry and we will have to deal with that as well. This dance has become predictable and exhausting.

Anyway, Nonny! Thank you for dropping this in my inbox! :)

Heads up! For anyone who is giving me the shifty eyes for reposting these anon OP updates instead of reblogging. Don't get mad at me. There is a reason for it and it's all done with consent from the OP. You can find out more about that here.

Remember, no hate in comments or reblogs. Let's keep it civil and respectful. Thank you.

If you are interested in more of the anonymous OP’s posts, you can find all of their posts so far under the tag: anonymous blog I love.

[russellsppttemplates]

We're in this together, mon amour (Pierre Gasly)

There are times harder than others, but Pierre is making sure he's always there for his wife

Note: english is not my first language. this is my long piece in ehat feels like a lifetime, I hope I can still do it well enough, and, like usual, I like to say this to make it clear: this request is special because this is a topic that I feel huge responsibility writing about and I feel grateful that I'm trusted enough to have it be requested (and you don't need to feel anxious or scared to submit things like this, this is not a learning platform necessarily, nor I am a teacher, but I'm more than happy to write about these things and materialise some ideas you have). As I've said before, I hate the whole idea of labelling, but I also know and understand how important it is to see some of you and your characteristics portrayed in a character.

I'm very happy and proud of you for making progress about it too ✨️🤍

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated, and I'm slowly trying to get back to taking requests, and I am writing some blurbs when I can, so if you have any ideas or concepts that can be written in a small amount of sentences and you want to share, feel free to do so!

Tw: mentions mental health issues (anxiety symptoms, self-doubt), going to therapy, family issues

You arrived home after another day at work, hoping that you could put this week behind you and go into the weekend to relax. You could count on one hand the moments this week where you didn't feel completely on edge. Work was going through a busy time and despite being very happy that the company was growing and your work was being valued, it did pile up with everything else. And could you really complain about your home life? You had a supportive husband, way more supportive than you feel like you deserve and with everything else happening, it just created all these thoughts that would not leave your mind, no matter how much you tried and insisted they would leave.

Maybe a shower would help, you thought, going upstairs to the ensuite and grabbing your favourite products in hopes they would make you feel better. You stripped out of your work clothes and placed them in the hamper, putting some music on your phone so you could have something else occupying your mind when you noticed a message from your husband, saying he would be home later than expected since the sponsor meeting had evolved to a drinks and food situation, apologising for the sudden change of plans with an I love you in the end.

Walking inside the cabin, the water distracted you for about two minutes before everything came back up, thoughts of how you could be the wife to be there with him, supporting him while in big crowds, not needing to take a few moments away because it was getting too much. And maybe how he could do so much better, how he could easily have someone to do that for him without any trouble, and yet he chose you to spend the rest of his life with. And the feeling that settles in your chest makes it harder for you to breathe, harder for you to think and distract yourself so you push your back against the cold wall, the feeling so shocking to your senses that it just about got you back to yourself so you could wash your hair and body and get out.

You were in the bedroom, putting your pyjamas on when you heard Pierre's footsteps going up the stairs, "Amour, are you in the bedroom? I was wondering if you wanted to go and grab something to eat", he said before he entered the bedroom, "Oh, pyjamas already?", he asked in a neutral tone, but to you, it was the last straw. Tears started falling down and your legs started to shake as you tried your best to calm down, Pierre already kneeled in front of you, "hey, amour, hey, what's wrong?", he made you look at him, "breathe with me", he instructed, "there you go, you can talk whenever you want to", he offered as soon as you seemed to calm down, "but I will need you to tell me what's going on", he said before getting up only to sit next to you on the bed.

"I've been feeling a lot of things recently, and they're not very good", you began, "and I know I should've told you, but I don't want to bother you", and Pierre tapped your hand twice, something he had been doing for a while whenever he wanted you to know he had something to say whenever you were talking, "you will never be a bother, Y/N, you can tell me how you're feeling", he brushed some hairs out of your forehead.

Sighing, you looked up at the ceiling before speaking, "Sometimes I feel like I'm too much for you, I'm either too much work, too much drama...and I get scared one day I'll be too much for you to handle, I'm sorry I'm like this", you shared. It had always been there, a small impostor's syndrome almost where you didn't feel like you could even compare to the another drivers' partners, but recently it had all become a bit more obvious in your eyes. Your wedding had been full on Pierre's side, whilst your side was a lot smaller, consisting mainly of friends and some family members who you still had a good relationship with, everyone seemed to be wondering when you'd have a little one when there were days you felt you could barely care for yourself, people often commented and you were and when you weren't in the paddock, whatever attendance trend not satisfying their curiosity.

Pierre gulped. You had never shared this with him, not with this much emphasis. Anytime you'd feel a little more insecure, he would shower you with love, and he thought it had been enough.

"None of that is true, my love", he began, "I can assure you that. I love you no matter what", he stated, "You'll never be too much for me", Pierre assured you as he held your hand in his, making sure you kept looking at him, "there's nothing in this world than I won't do for you to make sure you feel good and well", he noted, "I- I didn't know you felt like this, I'm sorry for not noticing it".

You looked at him, seeing the hurt in his eyes, "I didn't mean to hurt you. See? This is what I mean, everything is taking a toll, now you're not feeling good about it, and it's all my fault", you took a deep breath, "hey, amour. You don't have to feel guilty about his, okay? Above anything else, I want you to be okay, so we can be okay, too. You just have to let me know", he said as he managed to hold your gaze in his, "I was thinking the other day, maybe I should go back to therapy. I stopped because I felt really good but maybe it's time to go back", you said.

Softly rubbing your cheek, Pierre spoke first, "if you think that will help, mon amour, we'll go just now, I would take you if I could right now", he said, bringing a small smile to your face, "I'll be by your side through it all, amour".

.

"Do you want me to pick you up after your appointment?", Pierre asked, looking at the calendar you had on your home office's wall, "Oh yes, that would be good actually. The mechanic said my car wouldn't be ready until the day after tomorrow", you smiled before closing a file you were working on.

"I actually wanted to talk to you about something", he began, grabbing your attention, continuing once you nodded, "I've been wondering about other ways to help you, and I was wondering, with you permission of course, if I could talk to your therapist. Not to know what you discuss in the sessions, but rather to know more about the whole thing. Like, how I can help you and know all the signs and things. This with your permission, of course", he said. You gave it a thought, "I'm okay with it. I know my psychologist won't break the ethical code. But do you want to do that?", you wondered, "I want to know more of how I can help you. I want you to be as comfortable and happy as possible, and while I know a few things, there are more things that maybe she can tell me. I want to be able to help you to the best of my abilities", he said as he cradled your cheek, "but only if you're okay with it", he reiterated. Smiling at him, with small happy tears in your eyes, you mimicked his stance with your own hands, thumbs rubbing his stubbly cheek, "I love you, so much. Thank you for always being here for me", you said before allowing your arms to change position and hug your husband, arms circling his body, "you and me until the end, ma belle".

.

"There were some difficult questions today", you said to Pierre over the phone, "but I'm getting better at talking about it", you said, watching his face in the videocall, "I'm so proud of you, mon amour", he said, "It's nothing really, that's just-", you were interrupted by him, "it is big, and even if it was a small thing, you're working on it", he smiled.

"You've been a really big part, too", you winked, "I'm just making sure my wife knows the truth, that she is worth everything, that she is capable of anything, and most importantly, I try everyday to make you feel the happiness and love you deserve", he smiled.

.

"Do you still want to go for dinner tonight?", Pierre asked as he adjusted the sleeves on his shirt, having noticed you had been particularly quiet since getting home from work, "do you mind if we stay in tonight? I know you were really excited, and I was really excited too but work was too much today, and a lot of people were talking and I-", you were interrupted by your husband, "you don't have to explain yourself if you don't want to, mon amour. Was it something I did that I can make better?", he asked as you shook your head no, "was it something you had total control over?", he asked again, "no, I couldn't do more than take a few breaks and distract myself when I felt overwhelmed", you said as you saw him smile, "exactly. So we can control this now, and we can stay in. Do you want to make food together or order in?".

.

"Are you feeling okay? We can leave early if you want to", Pierre whispered in your ear as you walked to the table in the restaurant the team had rented out to celebrate the recent positive results, "I'm okay, so far so good", you smiled at his attentiveness, kissing his hand that was laced with yours as you sat down and greeted everyone at the table.

Pierre came back from using the bathroom when he noticed you weren't inside the room anymore, going up to where you were sitting and asking for you, "Y/N took Maisie outside, we are discussing some things for the next meeting and she took her outside with her to see the stars", Elise from the engineering team said before Pierre made his way to the outside garden of the restaurant, wanting to know where and how you were.

"Oh, there you are, Y/N", he said, looking for any sign of discomfort in your body language, but only finding you comfortable looking up at the stars with the little girl in your arms as she tried to grab them, "She was getting a little bit cranky, bless her", you explained, seeing the worried creases on his forehead soften, "so I thought we could come outside and see the stars and the moon while the adults talked about boring engineering things", you smiled as Maisie seemed to pay attention to your husband now, "are you looking at Pierre? He's very handsome, right?", you tapped her nose and she let out a delicious giggle, earning giggles from both of you in return.

"I thought you might have not felt good inside, I was worried for a second there", Pierre explained, "I was fine, everyone was lovely as usual, but she was getting a bit restless and Elise and Tom couldn't keep her entertained, so I said I could take her if they'd like", you said as you felt Maisie cuddle into your chest, her hands grasping the material of your shirt, "and she's really fighting sleep, aren't you, little monkey?", you said as you softly stroked her cheek, "you need to sleep, little one", Pierre offered as he started walking, hoping that the steady movement would help her fall asleep easily.

"I'm very proud of you", Pierre began talking, "I can only imagine how hard things still can be for you, but you work everyday to get better at it and to be better, and that makes me so happy and proud of you", he said as he circled his arm around your waist and kissed the side of your head, mindulf of the little girl who whose eyes were becoming droopier by the minute, "thank you, you know I would've not done it without you", you looked at him, "a lot of it comes down to me, I know, but having you there makes it easier", you finished, puckering your lips so he could kiss them, "we're in this together, mon amour", he offered before a snore was heard, the both of you cooing at the sight of Maisie asleep, leaving you to think once again about kids. It had been going on for a while, especially now that you felt a lot more in control and like you could deal better with your day to day thoughts. "Hey, my love, I've been thinking about something lately, and you obviously have a say in this, but I've been thinking about one of our own", you voiced your thoughts, knowing that your relationship was an open and comfortable place for you to share them without any judgement from your husband, "I know there's still some work to do, and quite frankly there will always be, but I've been thinking about it and it doesn't scare me like it did before, I actually look forward to every moment", you finished your ramble, looking for any sign of disagreement in Pierre's face, finding only a big smile, "whenever you are ready, mon amour, you just let me know and we can start practicing for a little Gasly", he laughed, squeezing your body against is, "seeing you with a baby on your arms is making me absolutely ready", he whispered in your ear, "hey, small ears are within hearing capacity!", you suddenly felt shy, "what? I'm promising her a little friend to play with in the paddock next year!".

[waitmyturtles]

High points and question points of 23.5, episode 7:

1) The mood is so much better. It's cute! Fon Kanittha does a wonderful job of focusing on elements of family and community in her pieces -- I love that she doesn't keep Ongsa's and Alpha's parents behind a curtain, that they're responsive to the nostalgic joys of watching a group of high schoolers commune and find each other.

2) Having Ongsa and Sun confirm their relationship while Ongsa was wearing a traditional outfit meant a lot. It's a visual bucking of an expectation of how a "woman should behave." Ongsa was of course gorgeous, but the shots of her holding Sun with those big gold bangles also meant that she was taking tradition to a new place, creating her own traditions -- all while we know that she was burdened with fear beforehand about publicly going out with Sun, and being afraid that Sun wouldn't feel comfortable being out with Ongsa (which clearly is not the case). (I also loved the move of having Ongsa get out of the first outfit, which was clearly indicative of a lower station than how Sun and Ton think about Ongsa. That was a nice little twist.)

3) @bengiyo mentioned in his Stray Thoughts on this episode that he wished that we could have sat a touch more in Ongsa's discomfort on the above, and I agree. This show is missing an exploration of emotional stuff that we've seen in other pieces by Fon Kanittha, especially, for me, as compared to 10 Years Ticket.

(On the recommendation of @dribs-and-drabbles, I'm giving My Precious a shot this weekend. MP is centered around a core romance, but in this piece, much of the first quarter of the piece is spent building the huge community around the main couple. And we get emotional nuances, wherever they might be, both from the individual characters, AND by learning more about them through each of their sets of parents, very similar to the structure of 10YT. In 23.5, we've rushed through this, or we didn't explore it in full.)

I have a theory: since this is GMMTV's first GL, I wonder if Fon is either intentionally, or being made to, give more attention to love tropes, either by reference to older ones, or creating new ones for GLs. We saw kabedon last week, for instance, and we're seeing a love interest make a turn for their courtier when it seems like their courtier may be straying, etc. (although the latter isn't necessarily specific to BLs). Since My Precious is also airing at the same time, I can't make a judgment as to Fon's takes on pure romance, as 10 Years Ticket was a community-focused lakorn of many stories. But in any case, it's weird that we're seeing these emotional skips. Just a couple more minutes spent, at this very moment, on WHY Ongsa has this (sometimes excruciating) hesitation of speaking and insecurity would be helpful to match what emotion we're seeing out of Sun. And seeing Sun nice and angry and jealous -- again, from my thoughts last week, I thought we'd see that a bit more after the catfishing reveal in holding Ongsa accountable.

I think this need for emotional clarity is dampening my overall embrace for this show, especially because I honestly didn't expect it from Fon Kanittha. But again, I thought the mood of this episode and the consistency of it made more sense than last week.

[sternevogn]

hey Sterne :P just wanted to ask you something in regards to the Dean-Howard-Eunice-Clift B plot in Season 3 and specifically what makes you like it as much as you do? mainly asking since I and many others aren’t really a fan of the whole thing with even some people like me thinking it’s the worst part of the whole season with the reasons given being that it barely relates to everything else in the series, it kinda ruins Howard’s character compared to the previous seasons, the episodes in the whole B plot (especially CLIFTCHAOS) just not being that good etc etc, I would even go as far to say that if the whole arc was removed then S3 would be on par with S1-2 and NV, so I’m interested to know what makes you like the arc specifically compared to everyone else. that’s all, hope you have a good day :)

tw for suicide given the topic.

honestly? even i'm not all that sure what makes me like it that much. i think the biggest part of it is just eunice having had a profound impact on me. i don't like to talk about it much, but i have a really big history with suicidal thoughts and ideation. it was not something i really expected in the mythos at all i guess, and its incorporation kind of hit. while i definitely don't think people read into the plot the same way i do at all, i think howard was genuinely unsuspecting and didn't understand well what was happening in GGG until it was too late to, and that additionally kind of hits, too. i read into it as, even though eunice had no intention to call howard, she still found this stranger who was willing to listen to her and talk to her, and in a time like that, i feel like you want anyone to listen. to hear you. so that you don't feel so alone. so i think eunice really appreciated that howard didn't hang up, that he was there with her in her final moments, and that she genuinely found some kind of joy in being heard one last time. unfortunately, not knowing the reason behind eunice's suicide does make things a lot more difficult to interpret, but under the assumption that it's genuinely because she's suffering, it was a final moment of peace for her. it hurts to me, as well, that there seems to be a lack of understanding from howard during this scene. i don't think he fully connects the things she's implying, and that makes it absolutely devastating when he finally asks if she's okay, piecing together at the very last moment what she's about to do. but by that point, it's far too late.

while i think i certainly interpret this whole plotline far differently than most others in the fandom, i think it does have some impact. dean's irrationality in a) dropping out to be vice president and b) sending the fbi to hunt howard (and eventually killing him himself) is a pretty drastic but genuine interpretation of grief, too. grief- and denial- make people do genuinely crazy things. i remember hearing from a qna once that dean definitely felt responsible for what happened to eunice, and that kind of weight on your heart is really something, too. whether he genuinely knew that howard hadn't done anything or not, i don't know. i think he wanted somewhere to put that blame, wanted to deny that his sister would ever do such a thing, that she had to have been happy, but she really wasn't.

cliftchaos aside, idk wtf was going on there to this day 😭 idk what clift was cooking. im abt as lost as everyone else i fear HELP

dean and clift to me are genuinely very interesting people outside of the mythos who both led tragic lives, so that's a huge part of why i like them so much. it doesn't necessarily reflect on their plotline for s3 much, just think it's cool to have been introduced to them and gotten to learn about some pretty interesting and tragic people.

in conclusion, it mostly stems from GGG and the topic of suicide. since it's just an overall personal thing for me, and so is my interpretation, i don't necessarily expect people to read into or even like s3. my brain basically fabricated entire personalities for howard and eunice and the kind of people they were in s3. i know suicide or the notion or threat of it can weigh as a heavy responsibility on one's heart, so it feels like a reminder that you always have to remember no matter how much you feel like you don't, you will always have value to someone out there. a friend, a family member, a pet, hell, even a stranger. someone out there always will care about you, and that's a reason to hold on. find a reason to live. remember the burden your loss will have. find that something that brings you joy, even if it's just a little. as long as it's something.

i think that's a really important thing to consider, even if nobody considers it that deeply. eunice's death feels like a humbling reminder of how much of an impact it has, what consequences it has. so, that's really my 2 cents (although, id say i gave like $2 worth of rambling here 😭) on why i think i am as attached to this plotline. sooo.... yeah

[kept-confidence]

Closing Time

This piece began first as a private daydream, Later, it grew into a daydream shared with a newfound friend (@imonthemoonitsmadeofcheese). With that came a wash of creativity over me that I decided, for once, to fully submerge myself in. This is also now on Ao3, found here. The song that I imagine Drifter singing in this piece is titled "Martha", and is sung by Tom Waits. The song that I imagine being played in the scene — the trumpet and piano duet — is titled “Closing Time”, and is also by Tom Waits. This is a personal favourite of mine. Note: I'd highly recommend putting "Closing Time" on when you're at the montage section — I imagine it'd be a nice experience overall while you imagine the scene being described. There is nothing violent here — only tenderness and kindness founded upon a moment of healing. I am no expert in handling tender moments between individuals, and sometimes struggle to describe them. I make up for it, perhaps, in metaphor. I’m always inspired by music, and I guess that’s where the daydream emerged from in the first place. I also cooked this up in a day which is absolutely hilarious (neurospicy brain things). This is my first fic, which is nice, I think. Hope you enjoyed reading this! Comments are hugely appreciated (and I'd love to meet new folks who are into this ship as much as I am).

The door opened slowly with a gentle push, creaking loudly in response to decades of wear and neglect as it swung open and away from the Drifter. For a place that had been left largely abandoned, forgotten, and untouched — likely intentionally by its owner — any sort of movement and sound felt sacrilegious, like intruding upon a sacred space that should have, perhaps, been left alone. 

Drifter breathed a heavy sigh as he hesitated to take a step into what used to be his old bar. It should feel like a place he owns, one that he feels welcome in, he tells himself. But the air responds otherwise — the dominant scent of stale, damp wood rendering it thick, musty, and overbearing. If anything, the air was weighed down heavily by memories of the Drifter's past — of old selves torn away and discarded, of ghosts he'd rather forget, and of a time that no longer seemed welcome nor accessible. It had been weighed down by the burden of change. 

Why had he come here? A rhetorical question to himself, but one that occupied his mind nonetheless. 

Now restless, the Drifter took to rolling his green coin across his knuckles in a bid to calm his mind. Despite this, there was no denying the fact that his breathing had since grown rather shallow and irregular at the prospect of having to enter this forsaken space. Nonetheless, he figured that he'd lingered outside enough. 

"Eh, gotta go in at some point, I guess," he muttered to himself, words trailing off, as he defaulted to erecting a wall of indifference once more. It was, perhaps, what he thought to be the only way to keep himself safe. 

With soft and quiet steps, the Drifter finally stepped into the bar with a sense of trepidation that he wished he didn't have to feel, especially for a place he knew he once had some attachment to. Though he'd expected things to look different, he had to admit that the space of his bar — though theoretically the same as how he'd left it last — felt different. His heart skipped a beat as his senses slowly became more attuned to the apparent dissonance in the once lively (though chaotic) space he owned. After all, the mind can only prepare one so far — the heart, however, will always be tugged along, albeit unwillingly, in directions undesired and unwanted. For someone who had survived so much, who thrived on instability, chaos, and change as a means of putting up walls and abandoning the past, it would seem that for a rare moment, the Drifter would finally admit to himself that he'd been subconsciously wishing for something in his life to, at least, remain the same. 

The silence was piercing — ringing, even. It was in stark contrast to a sonic memory of a boisterous time once filled with excitement and activity. The Drifter could almost imagine the scene that accompanied it, but as he called forth that memory in his mind, the dissonance grew louder and more discordant. He promptly shut the door to that memory, and instead found himself stemming the discomfort by fixating on the sound of his footfalls as he fidgeted and shifted his feet in a bid to punctuate the silence pressing into him. Grounding, as Eris had once taught him. Where these footfalls had once been crisp and confident, heard in tandem with the voices of comrades and enemies both lost to time, they were instead now faint and muted no thanks to the thick layer of dust that blanketed what used to be dry and clean wooden floorboards. As each step unsettled the caked-on dust on the floor, leaving imprints of his boots, the Drifter directed his attention to his footfalls and simply looked. Dust was gently being dislodged, then lifted, and finally fell off the tips and soles of his boots. He could feel it — that each shift, each step, carried with it the heaviness of time, and its burden laid bare for him to witness. Breathing in deeply, Drifter felt the discomfort ease ever so slightly, as he was finally reminded of why he'd come back to the bar in the first place. 

To learn to embrace change while not abandoning the past. It was an answer to his question from before, but one that he knew, acutely, that its execution would not come as easily as hoped. Ideally, the process would happen on its own, without any need for effort — but that would be nothing more than a lofty dream. By this point, there was perhaps no escaping the fact that it was time for him to face his past, head on. 

Before his mind could stray any further, he felt a buzz from the databad tucked neatly beneath his robes. The Drifter retrieved it, and smiled softly when he saw who the message was from. 

EM: Germaine, you are not on the Derelict.  D: Aw Moondust! Missin' me already? You should've just said so!  EM: Answer the question, Rat. Where are you?  D: I'm at the old bar. The one I used to own? From waaaaaaaay before? The one Efrideet trashed?  EM: It's three in the morning, Germaine. What are you doing there? Are you alright? 

The Drifter's fingers hovered in the air for a moment as he contemplated how to reply to her question — specifically, the latter one. Like always, he decided that he'd ignore it. 

D: Catching up on old times, I guess.  EM: I see. You did not answer the second question. Would you like company? 

Caught. Nothing new — Eris always knew. 

D: Yeah. Thanks, Moondust. Seeya in a bit. 

The gentle smile didn't leave the Drifter's face even as he tucked the datapad back in its place. For him, Eris's company was always welcome. But this was even more so true for today — with the weight of the past and of this space still holding him down like a Sisyphean boulder on his sholders. Though he wasn't expecting her to know more about it, or to help him lift it, he imagined that it would, at least, be nice to have her company while he worked though and unravelled the attachment to this place he had long since buried. There was, after all, comfort to be found in the gentle intimacy of vulnerability they had since learned to share in time. 

Just as he'd finished ruminating, the Drifter felt his arm brush against yet another thick layer of dust as he walked past a large, boxy object. He turned, and let out a tiny, silent gasp of awe as he came to realise what was in front of him — it was a piano. It had been such a long time since he'd played one, not to mention seen one in the first place. The piano was no Steinway, of course. Just an upright Baldwin that had been salvaged from way before. The Drifter chuckled as he recalled just how out of tune it was when he had salvaged it, and how he'd managed to tinker with the piano enough that it at least sounded mostly reasonable. For a moment, he wondered if his work had stood the test of time. Orin was convinced that it would. 

He tensed, and held his coin tightly between his thumb and index finger. It was inevitable that the train of thought would lead him down that road. He'd been the one to salvage the piano and to tinker with it, but it was Orin who witnessed all of this happening — who laughed with him, and groaned at him each time he failed to fix the piano's tuning. She was the one who made the memory feel real when it would've otherwise been like any other memory — a generic piece of paper burnt to a crisp. 

This was the memory he'd come to confront. Right as he was about to fall off the edge into a memory-induced panic, the Drifter caught himself and grounded himself once more. Move the coin across the knuckles. Flip it between these fingers, and then the others. Shifting feet. Fidget a little. Grip the coin, then loosen that grip. In that release, the Drifter's tension eased a little as well. 

He dragged himself back into the present moment. In it, there was a quietude that ached in the space around him, as the Drifter took the time to take in the scene laid in front of him. Slowly, he took a few steps back, and gazed softly at the piano. The sight was, frankly, captivating. Moonlight streamed in from the holes in the roof that had since come to plague the bar, touching — even caressing — the piano ever so slightly. In these beams of moonlight, particles of dust travelling in the air were illuminated. For a space where its stillness initially bordered on suffocation, the Drifter finally felt himself attuned to the sensation and observation of the most minute movements. The way his breathing shifted the dust travelling around him, visible through the rays of moonlight. The way the clouds cast shadows on the ground as they momentarily blocked the moonlight. He felt just a little better about being here.  

Feeling inspired by the sight, he pulled out the piano bench and sat on it. No one would have issues with someone playing a piano at the base of Felwinter Peak at three in the morning, of course. Drifter pulled his gloves off, placing them neatly on the top of the piano. He had done so instinctively, as if wanting to truly feel and reminisce the texture of the keys with his own fingers. As he swiped one finger gently across the surface of the piano’s unopened cover, he was reminded once again of change — of time and age. Parts of the dislodged dust now hung on the tip of his finger. The truth is, he didn’t have to do that. He could’ve simply opened the piano cover. Yet, for the Drifter acknowledging that presence of dust, feeling it, and shifting it away, felt like an active recognition and acceptance of a time long gone. Of change.

The Drifter proceeded to lift the cover of the piano, which took a little bit more than a gentle struggle simply because of how long it had been left unopened. It inspired a simple metaphor in his mind — he thought of how the dust, when left undealt with, would work itself into the seams of the piano like a glue that seals all things shut, making it even harder to pry open. He visualized that momentarily in himself, with the dust that had settled into the seams of his own box that contained his heart and his past. It was, indeed, one that he was also struggling a little to open. He would try today, perhaps.

Beneath the cover lay the piano keys. Some were chipped, and some were stuck in a half-pressed position no thanks to the lack of maintenance. But for the Drifter, it was, in fact, the same as he had left it — it had been untouched for decades, chips consistent with his memory, and the sticky keys were still, well, sticky. There was no fixing those, he remembered, chuckling to himself.

It would become clear eventually that for the Drifter, memory is a muscle, and muscle memory never fails. His hands naturally fell into position, and for some strange reason, prepared themselves in the key of D#. He pressed down on the keys ever so delicately — perhaps to him, they seemed so fragile that they might break under the weight of his burdens.

But they didn't, and instead produced a faint chord in D#. He lifted his fingers, and pressed once more — now confident the keys would not crumble under him. The sensation — both of the keys, and of the sound received — was, to him, extremely familiar. Let memory lead, let memory take charge. The heart knows what it needs, he reminded himself. And from there, notes and chords pieced and flowed together, and the Drifter began to play a tune. He knew not what it was titled, or who had sung it originally, but he only remembered hearing it being played once by a visitor to the bar who had kindly asked for permission to play the piano. All he knew about the tune was that it was from the golden age — a song from a time now long gone, now being revisited in the present. 

As he progressed through the instrumental introduction to the song, Eris slipped quietly into the bar, undetected. The Drifter was too immersed in the moment that Eris refused to even think of interrupting it to announce herself. Gently and ever so silently, she perched herself on a bar stool that was still loosely intact, knees crossed, listening to his performance intently. She couldn't help but smile at the sight she was witnessing — but nothing could prepare her for what would come next, as the Drfiter began to sing. 

“Operator, number please It's been so many years Will she remember my old voice While I fight the tears?

Hello, hello there, is this Martha? This is old Tom Frost And I am calling long distance Don’t worry ‘bout the cost

Cause it’s been 40 years or more Now, Martha, please recall Meet me out for coffee Where we’ll talk about it all”

The words fell out of his mouth so naturally like a confession sung aloud to himself. His singing voice was low and ever so slightly gravelly, but there was a genuine tenderness to it a huge shift from his usually crass and sometimes insufferable modes of expression, Eris thought. It felt like a warm embrace — where words held on tightly to harmony, Eris instinctively found herself drawn towards and into the moment as well. As his gravelly voice continued to be sounded out — brushing against and touching her eardrums — a memory resurfaced. Eris couldn't help but recall the first time she ever placed her hand on his cheek as a gesture of care and love. She remembered how he leaned into her hand in return, and most prominently, the sensation of his beard tickling her palm. This felt similar — and it was comforting. 

At the same time, Eris was sure in this moment that her dear Rat was feeling more than just "old times", as he'd preferred to call it. If the lyrics weren't enough proof of this, the melancholic instrumental lines that accompanied the song were. In this song was nostalgia tinged with grief — a wistfulness of love once found and later lost, of time spent searching to no avail. She took a look around the bar and was met with the same scene of moonlight the Drifter had seen earlier. If he feels it's too much, he will know he's at least surrounded by moonlight, she thought to herself, reassuringly. 

Meanwhile, the Drifter continued: 

“And those were the days of roses, poetry and prose And, Martha, all I had was you, and all you had was me There was no tomorrows, we'd packed away our sorrows And we saved them for a rainy day

And I feel so much older now And you're much older too How's your husband and how's the kids? You know that I got married too?

Lucky that you found someone To make you feel secure Cause we were all so young and foolish Now we are mature”

As the chorus made its first iteration, it was evident by now that Martha, for the Drifter, was undoubtedly Orin. The mood in the air was suffused with a warm, gentle longing to revisit the past, to catch up with an old friend, an old lover. To simply ask, how are you doing? Perhaps it might've seemed that the Drifter was singing this to or for Orin, but Eris knew better than that. Despite the clear dedication to Martha drawn out by the lyrics — the incessant yearning and desire to return to the past — Eris had no doubt that her Rat was instead singing to his memory of Orin and his past experiences with her. He was, through this song, acknowledging the reality of his past — one that he had, at many times, tried to shut away with bursts of denial and detachment. The intention here was indeed very different. 

The chorus looped around a second time, and then:

“And I was always so impulsive I guess that I still am And all that really mattered then Was that I was a man

I guess that our being together Was never meant to be And Martha, Martha I love you, can't you see?”

Eris heard the Drifter stutter a little on the last line, his voice shaking as he held the last note for a second. And then he paused for a moment, hands laid on the keys, but frozen in time.

He said nothing for a while, and ruminated. Eris watched, but chose not to intervene — this was an important moment for him, one reserved for himself, and she would respect that. 

Finally, in the now drawn-out silence, he said to himself, quietly: "I loved you, Orin. This dude who wrote the lyric's still hung up on Martha. But for me? I don't love you. Not anymore. I loved you." Eris held her breath and clutched her Ahamkara bone closer to her chest as she heard the Drifter draw out the end of the word 'loved', clearly juxtaposed against the present, and original 'love' written into the song. She let go of that breath, and smiled. It was not that she needed reassurance — that safety and security had long been found in the foundation of their friendship and relationship. Instead, she simply felt a sense of pride for her dear Rat, who had finally taken active steps to work through the grief he had amassed in his heart from his time with Orin and beyond. It was no wonder that she had grown to love this man so very much — at no point in the time they knew each other did he ever expect her to fix his grief and his heart, and all he ever asked for, as she had now grown accustomed to providing, was her company through it all. 

Picking up his playing once more, the Drifter worked his way through the final chorus, before concluding the song with the words: 

"And I remember quiet evenings Trembling close to you.”

The last note from the piano resonated in the space of the bar, before the song faded into a final, concrete silence. The Drifter exhaled — it was a heavy one, but one that also seemed to bring him relief, as if he'd finally come to terms with what it meant to let go. He removed his hands from the keys, and proceeded to place them by his side as he pressed them softly into the bench. He gazed upwards, looking through one of the holes of the roof where the moonlight seemed to be pouring in from. It was a tiny whisper directed at the ray of moonlight, but one audible enough for Eris to hear from where she was seated. 

"Thanks for keeping me company through it, random ray of moonlight." 

Eris rose from the bar stool, finally making her presence known. And though slightly startled, the Drifter wasn't shocked enough to whip out Trust — he had been expecting her after all, though he had frankly no idea how long she'd been behind him all this while. 

"You're welcome," she said, smiling, while crossing the bar towards him, still seated at the piano. In response, he scooted over to the side as an invitation for her to sit beside him. She does. 

There was a moment of gentle silence — the air was no longer as still as it once was, and it was quiet enough that they could hear each other breathe almost in unison. She placed her hand over his, and he turned his palm over to intertwine their fingers together. He thought about asking her how long she'd been there for, but held back because he could already guess the answer to that. 

"That was beautiful, Germaine. How do you feel?" Eris asked, in hushed tones. 

For a man usually of many words, the Drifter struggled to gather any of a proper response. He simply sighed, and squeezed her hand, gazing at the moonlight through the roof once more. There was a warmth in his gesture, as if to say, I'm working through it still, but thank you for being here. She squeezed his in return, gently drawing circles on his hand with her thumb, as if to respond with take your time, I'm here, and I'll stay. With yet another sigh, he leaned over, and positioned his head on her shoulder, snuggling softly into the space that he'd already claimed as his multiple times. She turned her head to kiss him on his forehead, before simply leaning her head on his. 

It wasn't clear if he had started to cry, or was simply taking in the moment. He might have — but that was something meant only for Eris's eyes, and no one else. A private moment between the two. There was, perhaps, no need to know as well. Not everything needs to be witnessed, not everything needs to be known.

-------

It felt like a scene from a film. A montage of quiet, gentle moments.

scene begins, all dark; "closing time" by tom waits begins to play. a duet between a wistful trumpet and a plangent piano resonates in the air.  cut / close-up shot of the hole in the roof. moonlight is pouring in through it, and a crescent moon can be seen from the hole — clouds drift past in front of it.  cut / various still shots of the bar in disrepair — broken chairs, rotting wood, layers of dust, torn curtains at the windows.  cut / a still shot, now framing the back of the drifter and eris sitting side by side on the piano bench, the drifter's head on her shoulder, her head lying on his in return. cut / a close-up, still shot of fingers interlaced with each other.  cut / return to previous still shot of the drifter and eris on the piano bench, now pulling away with a backwards dolly. the two are now framed in relation to the larger space of the bar — as well as the moonlight. the camera remains in this position for a significant amount of time compared to the previous shots. cut / fade to black. the song is still playing. two sets of footfalls are heard — the heavy sort made from boots, though one is notably softer than the other. the sound of these footfalls pan from the far centre, closer to the front, and finally to the left. a door is heard creaking open, and then closed. the footfalls fade into the distance.  song fades into silence.  end scene. 

[fairysluna]

His Highness Prince Aegon II Targaryen was finally able to escape from his native home. He ran away many times, but he was constantly caught. But this time, he succeeded. He is standing on the threshold of some small estate, as it seems to him. His hands are icy, he is frozen to the bone, he does not feel his own body, but desperately knocks on closed, dark doors. He doesn't know where he is, he just knows, that somewhere far to the North. Far further away, than he could ever have imagined. And that's good. The further away from home, the better. The only thing, that deeply hurts the Prince, other than the icy wind, is that his winged treasure is far away from him. Sunfyre stayed at home. The Prince shouts, but does not hear his own voice. He's banging on the door. He was tired and cold. The last thing, he sees before collapsing backwards, is an increasing crack of light.

When a strange man with silver hair appeared on the threshold of your house in the deep, cold night, you, the mistress of this house, the last member of your last name, did not expect much from him. Even though you live on the edge of the universe, there is no escape from rumors.

Everything about this place was strange to the Prince. The young woman is in charge here. There are very few servants, and they all called you by name, although with deep respect in their voice. And you didn't call them "servants", you said: "my help". When you greeted him by his full name, the Prince prepared to run again, but you only asked him to be calm and respectful. Now, he is very far from home, the King's fist almost does not reach these lands, you have your own rules and customs here. And if the Prince wants to stay, he must comply with them. This world is different, from where he came from. And Aegon agreed. He promised to behave himself, and you promised not to extradite him. And it was easy. Few people get to your tiny piece of land. In fact, it's surprising, how he crawled up here at all.

But that was a long time ago.

Now, Aegon has increased not only in the waist, but in the shoulders. And, it seems, he became half a head taller, but that's not for sure. He began to smile more, and an unquenchable flame burns in his eyes. And his habits have also changed. The current Aegon and Aegon, that escaped from King's Landing, are two different Aegons.

Where else would you see Prince Aegon, playing snowballs with little children, to whom, he has nothing to do? And he let these children beat him. Where else would you see Prince Aegon, who portrays a defeated dragon? Where else would you see Prince Aegon, sitting relaxed on an icy lake and fishing for fun? Of course, he brings the most beautiful catches home, to his real home, but mostly, he finds fishing calming. He even asked a local blacksmith to make him a "safe fishing hook".

You've lived on this icy lake all your life, and fishing has never given in to you. Your best catch, is someone's ring. And this stranger just picked up a fishing rod, and immediately caught a good fish! It's just not fair! This bastard has talent! Of course, you told him, that you'd kick him out of the house for it, but you both just laughed about it. You praised his talent.

Aegon noticed, that you often praised him in general. Also, he found out, that you are not much different from him in age, but, almost from childhood, a huge burden of responsibility hangs on you. You are the eldest daughter in the family, you are the first heiress to this small town. You are literally the last person in this family.

You have a bad pedigree. Almost all the sisters ran away, some to freedom, some to lovers, the father was mired in his thirst for money and power, and the mother despaired of finding happiness in this house. There was no one left. You're alone. But Aegon doesn't need power. Aegon has escaped from power. But he offered you to become, a kind of, well, your consort. You tell him, he'll do it. Now you're not alone. Now Aegon is here. And when you get married, he will be happy to be called by your last name. Aegon was run away from responsibility, he didn't want that responsibility. But for this responsibility, he is ready for anything. And he will not break this promise.

Aegon himself did not think, that he would love this place so much. He is much deeper in the North, than any "Dog" could tell him. If the whole world were a plate, he would be on the very edge of that plate. Aegon loved this quiet, affectionate estate with all his heart, these kind and loyal assistants, who call him: "Aegon" or "my boy". He fell in love with these icy forests and waters. And this small town, with its strange inhabitants, for whom he has already become their own. And this warm berry pie, for which he ready sell his soul, which is cooked by a maid of a very respectable age, who, by the way, calls him affectionately: "my boy".

Where else could you see Prince Aegon, who yesterday danced with his Lady by the fireplace some kind of incoherent, fervent dance, and today - he hugs her closely to him, gently swaying by the same fireplace. Sometimes, in the morning, Aegon is afraid to open his eyes. If this is all a dream, then let this dream not end. But Aegon feels the familiar heavy and warm blanket again. So, everything is fine. One day, you told him, that you were a little sad, that all your sisters had scattered, that you would like to show him off in front of them. You've always been not the most attractive sister, a hopeless bride. And here's how it all turned out. Aegon thought the same thing. It would be so nice, to show off such a new life in front of his family. But, on the other hand, Aegon will do everything, to protect this new life. He has changed, but some of the old traits of his being remain.

Aegon is a dragon, and you are a whale. And you would never have thought, that a dragon would so desperately want to turn into a whale. You are his beautiful flower, carved out of thick, centuries-old ice. But when Aegon hears your bones crunch again and again, when he sees the old scars on your skin, how your hands are shaking again, the deep dark color under your eyes, that will never leave you. When he looks into your eyes again, in which your whole life is visible, Aegon understands again, that you are still a flower, that needs to be cared for. And he'd be damned, if he'd let that flower wither. You've had a heavy burden on you for a lot of years. But now, you have someone to share it with.

Aegon tells you his fiery fairy tales, and you tell him your fairy tales, woven from icy water. In this cold fairy tale, he will never be found.

One day, when you were cuddling by the fireplace, you told him, that you would love to meet Sunfyre. You even came up with an approximate place, where he could be placed. You ask Aegon, if the dragon would freeze here? After all, even through all this time, Aegon is still freezing here. Well, you were born in cold water, and Aegon in fire, of course he is cold here!

When you both approved the construction of the "home for Dragon", Aegon gathered in the capital, to take what rightfully belongs to him. In fact, even in such an unpleasant business, as a temporary return to his native lands, there are a couple of pleasant moments. Firstly, Sunfyre will be with him again. Gods, how he misses Sunfyre. Secondly, you're excited about meeting Sunfyre, in the best possible way. Aegon is more than sure, that his winged treasure will like you as well. And thirdly, several local men offered to help him. They offered to go with him, just in case. After all, no one here wants their Lady's future husband to get hurt or worse. Besides, this very future husband, well, is not a very bad guy.

Oh, Aegon's poor heart, it's about to burst... He would give his life for this little piece of land.

Oh my god- this is so perfect... thank you for sharing this with me and my followers, i feel HONORED. Firstly, the story is amazing, the fluff? soft aegon? yes, please. Secondly, your writing is INCREDIBLE, and I would LOVE to hear more about this story pretty pleaseeee (if you have a name for it let me know to put it in the tags)

Please everyone NEED to read this, i loved it so much.

sorry for not being able to add the 'read more'

[hoboblaidd]

Today's headcanon is a bit different. It's about people knowing whether Solas is the Dread Wolf during Inquisition.

tl;dr - absent a very compelling reason, normal people wouldn't know he's Fen'harel. He is cagey about his past,and at a certain point it’s clear something is going on, but there is no connective tissue between him and Fen'harel until we learn that last piece of information.

In hindsight, yes, there are clues all over the place that he's the Dread Wolf. He's got a lot of little giveaways in dialogue, but they're more subtle than say Blackwall's dancing around his reveal. It's like "a puzzle with only half of the pieces", to quote Dorian, or trying to figure out a message hidden in a picture without the cipher that unlocks its meaning. Once you have the cipher - Solas is Fen'harel - the clues are obvious. But without it, he's just an increasingly enigmatic font of knowledge on all things related to the Fade. Even the Evanuris warned that he excels at disguising himself. If they couldn’t ferret him out, neither can a normal person.

Solas' lies are founded in truth, which makes them more believable. Look at his conversation with Blackwall about Skyhold: "How did you find this place?" "I looked." It's cagey, but it's also true and in character. It fits perfectly with what the game has told us about him since Haven. All of his half-truths do. When asked why he's guarded, he believably explains it away as being a wary apostate surrounded by a Chantry that would turn him Tranquil if he was in a Circle. He says as much to Vivienne. As the game goes on, there are more cracks in his story ("when were you last at court?"), but none of them lead to the "Dread Wolf."

The Temple of Mythal is a place where I can reasonably see people being like "hang on." I was when I first played. But I didn't connect it to "Dread Wolf" because there wasn't that cipher/connective tissue we need to reach that conclusion. At most, I thought he might actually be a sentinel. That's a more logical step than "he knows a lot about elves so he must be the elven god of trickery and rebellion." There's simply no foundation for that leap.

My measuring tape for this is Vivienne and Bull. They're both incredibly clever, and if anyone was to ferret out his secret based on his guarded responses, it'd be them. They are suspicious of his "lack of personal history" and unique style of magic. But even they, shrewd as they are, don't reach the Dread Wolf conclusion. No one does unless the Inquisitor finds the 4 clues in Trespasser, and that's two years after Corypheus' defeat.

Yes, his magic is very old, but during Inquisition he's not at full power. He's basically half of himself. Compare his magic in Inquisition versus Trespasser: in Trespasser, it's effortless, while in Inquisition, his magic is nothing more than what we see from Dorian or Vivienne. Neither Dorian nor Vivienne comment on him having great power. Vivienne even digs that his magic is unrefined. The only times we see him exhibit more power than we'd expect are: (1) the effortless torch lighting right before the journey to Skyhold; (2) his removal of the vallaslin; and (3) his shutting down Cole's empathetic reach into his feelings/memories.

People can't "sense" he's the Dread Wolf, or even someone with a huge powerbase. Cole is an exception, one I might make for other spirit muses. They might clock him as very old, living in a time where "the songs were the same", but even Cole's lines about him are not explicitly "Dread Wolf" related until Trespasser.

[knwatchesninjago]

S1E2 Home

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!

THIS EPISODE!!!! WHAT!??!?!? AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!! OH MY GOSHHHHH!!!! I LOVE THIS EP SOOO MUCH!!!!

Alright then. What I am waiting for? Let's get into it!!

---

Okay!!! THIS EP WAS SO FOCUSED ON FOUND FAMILY-- AND I LOVE IT!!! <33333

But I honestly love how it's focused on Zane in a way. I'll write my view on Zane in this ep at the end of this post.

---

Okay, I love how Wu's first instinct was to check the gaming room!! Absolutely hilarious!!

---

Okay.. lemme make this clear. I feel absolutely sorry for this dude

---

Alrighty, let's move on tooooo....

#Lloydster_Enters_The_Scene

---

It wouldn't be lloyd if he didn't regret his life choices, now would it?

#RegretLifeDesisions

OKAY I SWEAR I WAS CRYING WHEN I SAW THESE LAST SCENES!😭😭😭

LLOYD, BABY, U GO RIGHT INTO THAT SHIP AND RUN INTO UR UNCLE'S ARMS!! STOP THINKING THAT UR UNLOVEABLE!!!

---

ALRIGHT!! ENOUGH OF LLOYD!! TIME FOR ✨ZANE✨!!!

Alright in the beginning we can see Jay, Cole, and Kai complaining to Wu and saying that Zane was weird.

I honestly love Wu's wise response:

"What is weird? Someone who is different? Or someone who is different than you?"

We then get a few flashbacks where Zane acts a bit odd. Okay... not that big of a deal as of rn.

The scene then shifts to the group at dinner. Zane comes walking in with a delious-looking turkey, wearing a pink apron.

As expected, the group laughs. Even Master Wu (totally not responsible and kind of u, Wu) joins in with the laughter.

After clearing up that mess they decide to have a food fight. Now on the surface, nothing seems wrong about that. (except for the fact that they're wasting food. my asian parents would never allow that in our house, loll)

But pay close attention to Zane.

He isn't smiling. He isn't laughing.

He's upset.

When Jay throws a piece of food at him, he FLINCHES!!! In his mind, all the time and love he spent making the meal is being wasted and underappreciated as his family throws it around as if it's nothing. They're all playing around and joking, but he isn't laughing...

And when he goes outside and sees the stars, look how happy he is!

This is one thing I love about Zane: he finds happiness in the most simplest of things.

When he sees the falcon fly away to an unknown location. He hesitates. He looks back at the monastery where you can STILL hear their laughter. His smile fades. Then he looks at the falcon and decides to follow it. And he follows the falcon with a SMILE.

Time skip, we see Zane and the team find Lloyd's treehouse. (a pretty impressive treehouse, ngl)

Just so I don't spoil the entire ep to you, I'm gonna ignore all the fighting scenes. When the ninjas come back, they see that their monastery is destroyed. And what do they do?

They yell at Zane. They blame him.

And what does Zane do? Nothing.

He doesn't retaliate. Doesn't try to put the blame on others. He does nothing. He takes all the blows.

He leaves and we later find out it's because he saw the falcon.

But... Y"ALL! When everyone apologizes, he doesn't act smug or try to rub it in their faces-- he asks them why they were apologizing.

In his innocently, pure mind, he doesn't take anything into account. He forgives them.

This is such a pure action, that's so simple but still so deep. He loves his team so much and nothing they ever do will affect that love he has for them. (im crying y'all)

AND THE LAST SCENE!!!! 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

OH MY GOSH!!! I WAS SQUEALING WHEN I WATCHED THIS!!

(first of... Jay and Kai run really weirdly... why are their arms flapping around!?!)

THE FAMILY FLUFFFF!!!!

"I am proud of you, Zane. One day, I promise, we will find your family."

And Zane's responce... 😭😭

"But... I've already found them"

*sniff sniff*

*breaks down into happy tears*

Y"ALLL ZANE IS SOO... SO FORGIVING!!!! I can't with this nindroid😭

And lastly... look at this wholesome scene.

Here we can see a huge contrast to the beginning scene. Here Zane initiates the throwing of food. And here, everyone is laughing.

It's only a joke if everyone is laughing. It's only funny if everyone is smiling. It's only "playing around" if everyone is okay with it.

I know that this review was a bit deep, but I'm only in the 2nd ep of season 1 and I'm absolutely loving it!! I'm so glad I decided to rewatch Ninjago!

Anyways, this is all I have for now. See y'all for ep 3!!

~KN out~

https://www.tumblr.com/kittenninja14/731916269075480576/hey-yall-i-just-found-this-incredible-video-and

[fishshit]

"Slut."

Viktor tried to fight off the smile emerging on his face when he heard his friend's good hearted teasing. Making sure his amusement doesn't show on his face, he turned his head towards the source of the voice and replied the accusation with his best unfazed expression, "I'm not understanding what you mean."

"Oh you know damn well what I mean," Chris was looking at him with an eyebrow arched so high, he was always the best at it, "What happened to 'Graphic shirts are only for those who have no idea how to play with textures and colors.' then?" Well.

"Well," he started, "I changed my mind."

"Oh please."

Chris was staying at their place for his annual visit, supposedly including Phichit but he couldn't make it because of some family business that's too complicated for Viktor to remember, and three of them planned to have a dine out and drinking night. Yuuri left them early in the morning for his ballet class from Lilia, then Chris announced he's going to wander around the city and shop a bit so it was Viktor's job for today to visit the vet and buy Makka's special dog food and vitamins.

Until 5 minutes ago, Viktor was waiting both of them in front of their apartment where he came to park their car because he absolutely wasn't going to be the responsible one and not drink tonight.

"Yuuri should be here any time soon, he was changing the last time I texted him." This little piece of information wasn't going to please Chris' curious interrogation in any way but Viktor didn't want to give in that easily. It was his job as Chris' best friend to annoy him more.

"Uh huh, so it's any time soon he will see you in this graphic shirt. Though I have to admit, this is kind of too innocent to be a special liking."

"It's not that-"

He stopped talking immediately as he heard the apartment's door opening and there was a very husband shaped figure coming towards them with a worried smile. "Did I make you two wait?"

"Yuuri!" He turned to his husband with a huge smile he never tries to fight off. The weak man he is, Viktor practically threw himself into Yuuri's expecting embrace and kissed him.

"No darling, we were talking about Viktor's unusual clothing choices." Chris' easy reply caught Yuuri's attention and he stepped back to check his husband's outfit and what's so unusual about it.

"What about his clothes- Oh."

As Yuuri started to blush so beautifully, his eyes opened more and more to take in what's in front of him. His eyes were taking Viktor in part by part and in that gaze, Viktor felt he became a whole again. "He looks nice in it."

Well, fuck. Viktor was beyond saving.

It seemed that Yuuri remembered their friend's existence as he couldn't keep his gaze on his husband anymore so he smiled awkwardly and told them that he's going to put his bag in the car for tomorrow so they could leave.

While Yuuri was going to their car after taking the keys from Viktor, his friend looked at him with the biggest shit eating grin on his face. "What were you saying, darling?"

"I was saying that it's not a graphic shirt. It's his graphic shirt."

The grin on Chris' face was somehow growing bigger and bigger as the blush he usually doesn't have, not when he's not with Yuuri, was burning his cheeks and ears. Not to confuse it with embarrassment, it was never embarrasment. He was just so, so in love.

[cozyenigma]

Darlin'

Hope this one was what you envisioned!

Word Count- 921

Request?- Yes!

Summary- If you asked him Illinois never had trouble putting the charms on people. Shame that that seems to be part of his problem in this particular case...

Warnings- None

Illinois knew you were capable. You had to be to stay in one piece for this long. Maybe you weren't as good of an adventurer as him but still. Capable.

Apparently you were also oblivious.

It may or may not have been his own fault that he flirted so much you never took him seriously when he meant it. Maybe. At this point though you had no excuse.

"Dunno what sparkles more," he said, throwing an arm around your shoulder, "the gem or those eyes of yours…"

And you just scoffed! Ducked out from under his arm and took the treasure, scoffed! You didn't even deign him with a response.

This had been going on for weeks and Illinois was about ready to tear his hair out.

If the regular flirting didn't do the trick, maybe gifts would? He didn't joke around with gifts. As much.

It took a good long while of scouting around for the perfect treasure. No rusty doubloons for you.

You had come into the hotel room with a bag of food from a place he didn't know, eyebrow raised.

"What's all this…?"

On the floor he had laid out a map. It was folded and creased and stained and took up a huge chunk of the room. He had written in the margins and put sticky notes on interesting areas.

Illinois grinned, getting to his feet and dusting his hands off. "You get to pick the next adventure."

"What?" He couldn't tell if the disbelieving laugh was good or bad.

"C'mon, now," Illinois ushered you closer, careful not to step on the map, "you're always asking why I drag you to death traps and all. So this time- you pick!"

You turned to him with a bemused little smile. "So I pick another death trap to go to?"

Illinois paused. "Well, death trap isn't what I'd call it-"

"I don't even know what we'd be looking for?"

"That's what the notes are for," he guided you around to the other side, clapped his hands on your shoulders, leaned in real close and said, "you're the captain of this ship."

You shot him an odd look but obliged, stooping down so you could read the map. Illinois counted it as a success. It seemed like you didn't take it as a joke anyway.

The high lasted all of one night, where it was business as usual.

Refusing to let it get him down, he resolved to turn up the heat on the trip you picked.

Though he had to admit, it wasn't… quite what he expected. The actual adventure part turned out to be a bust. Whatever artifact was rumored to be there was embellished heavily to help with tourism. Even the site it was supposed to be at gave tours and had convenient handrails installed. There was even a damn gift shop.

"There's nothing wrong with gift shops, y'know," you said on the drive back.

"They're overpriced for one," Illinois grumbled. He had a whole plan in mind. Make it a trip to remember, maybe take you out to dinner after.

"It keeps the lights on in those places."

"It's a rip off is what it is."

He was never going to set foot in another place with a gift shop if he could help it. Especially not after this.

You didn't seem too bothered. Smile on your face, arm resting half outside the window as he drove. The wind was enough to ruffle your hair around. Illinois had to remind himself to keep his eyes on the road.

"C'mon, you never went on a field trip anywhere and rampaged through the gift shop at the end?" The gleam in your eyes had him huffing and fidgeting in his seat.

"No. And what kinda kid do you think I was?"

"One who couldn't be kept out of anything that wasn't padlocked."

Illinois scoffed. "Wrong. Totally wrong. I was a model child, total angel."

You rolled your eyes and Illinois let the silence hang just a bit.

"And padlocks really aren't that hard to pick."

"Oh my god, Illinois!"

He snickered as the two of you reached the start of civilization again. A ways down the road, he spotted the glowing neon sign of a restaurant. Hadn't you mentioned you liked that kind of food?

It took him all of a second to think it over before he was making the turn. You looked away from the window as he did, clearly confused. Throwing the car in park, Illinois turned to you.

"Look, the adventure is a wash but-" he reached over and poked you in the cheek, ignoring how you swatted his hand, "I refuse to let your trip go to waste. So how bout I take ya out to dinner, darlin. My treat."

You were already going to answer, more out of habit than anything, and then you paused. To his amazement, there was a faint blush there on your cheeks! What did he do different?

"Ah… darling?" You repeated, voice pitched just a touch higher.

Oh, this he could work with.

"Yes?" He answered, knowing that wasn't what you meant. You sputtered and he resisted the urge to laugh. "It's a pretty easy question, I just wanna get ya your favorite is all. I can be a gentleman when I wanna be."

Your mouth opened, closed, and with a rough swallow you finally nodded, getting out of the car. Illinois couldn't help the shit-eating grin. He was gonna have so much fun with this.

[sugarmountainspring]

April 15.

6:30 : I woke up. Liv was having bad dreams. I had 2 coffees and got dressed while consoling her. I didn't wanna go to work. I grabbed leftover dinner from the fridge, switched my insoles from my rubber adidas to my cheap jordan work shoes, grabbed my backpack and tool bag and went out to my car.

8:00 : I showed up at the office. Its liv's exam week so she doesnt need a lift to school cause theyre all online. I'm always early. Today my drive took me about 10 minutes. I left late and everything. Mondays I go to the office, most other days I just show up where I'm needed. B***** the office lady is taking some time off (I guess), and as usual I show up before the boss. I clock in and clean some old cardboard and garbage from the warehouse. I have a chat with L***, the architect. He tells me about some DJ software he uses and tells me he ran a DJ company for weddings and graduation parties for 26 years. Every time we chat he always reveals something cool like that. After a bit I go out to the front room of the office and hang out with Z**, S*** and N*****. J**** is late, as usual. After a while chatting like that, I check my phone and realize I had a call from my dad (who is also my manager). He says there's a couple of things to do around some properties out in A**********. I like those properties cause nobody is really out there except for R****, the super of the property. He's nice enough but he always talks about stupid shit and doesn't listen back. That's one thing, he's old so I kinda expect that. But if he catches you out by his properties he'll give you all kinds of work that's his responsibility but he doesn't want to do. Luckily, I avoid him as I pull into Building A.

10:00 : Unit 302 has some pretty bad water damage. I throw on the new Super Eyepatch Wolf video to listen to while I work. Above the window is a huge sheet of drywall, heavy, warped, and half fallen out of place. I start by trying to slice it up. I saw and saw and saw with my utility knife. I make a cut about 2 inches into the sheet. No dice. I decide hitting chunks off with my hammer would probably work better. I give it a hard whack and make nothing more than a small dent. Awesome. It looks like the repeated wetting and drying have turned the naturally flaky, wafery drywall to what is equivalent to a solid piece of cement. At this point, my grade 11 and 12 auto shop teacher's words ring in my head. "There are surgeons, and there are butchers. You should aim to be a surgeon, but butchers exist for a reason." I start tearing down the sheet with my hands, careful not to disturb the L-bracket that holds the bad piece of drywall to good ones around the window. From the ceiling falls several dead wasp nests and what appears to be a birds nest. No critters in there. Lucky me. I pack up the debris I've made and toss it in one of the garbage bins around the property.

11:30 : this is why I like a********** properties. Nobody ever does anything around here. At the end of my last little bit of work, I cleaned up the hole I made with my knife. With that solid drywall, my blade broke off like I was trying to carve the hole out of a lemon wafer stick. I just spent the last 20 minutes fucking around, trying to find a new blade. Nobody breathing down my neck or telling me to get back to work. It's kinda nice. Once that's done, I remember I was told to help out cleaning up the properties. Normally what that entails is moving garbage people are too lazy to throw in the garbage bin from the side of the bin to the inside of the bin. At the main hub I go to at this property, the bins are overflowing with junk and there are 4 twin sized box springs, 2 couches and several bags of garbage to the side. Hm. Down the line of houses and apartment buildings on the street, lots of bins that are much emptier. Guess I'm doing some hauling.

11:54 : I've scoped out some empty bins, and I've thrown some couches and shelves into them. I never ate breakfast, so I eat lunch. Today, I will be eating leftovers, a luxury I don't normally have. Normally, I'd eat at Wendy's, A&W, or grab something from the hotplate at the Foodland around the corner. But today I'm eating the Thai chili chicken on fluffy jasmine rice I made yesterday. Saving money never tasted sooooo good. At this point I'm listening to a video from one of my favourite channels, ANIKI, about the history of the yakuza from the 17th century to today. I grab a seat in my car, roll the windows down a crack because it's getting hot out (finally) and chow down.

12:05 : I finish lunch. During lunch, I think about how my car really needs an oil change, and how sometimes the "check coolant" light pops on. With the weather changing, I understand the latter and that doesn't worry me. The former? A little more pressing. There's one mechanic I trust in town. It's hours are the exact same as my work hours. I use my car for work so I can't just drop it off and pick it up at the end of the day. And one of those "half hour oil and tire change" places? Forget it. My mom got one of those a month ago and she's had nothing but trouble with her car since, from them explaining she needs a new fly wheel which she didn't pay for, to a transmission fluid flush that she did pay for, which immediately sprang a leak, stopped working, and needed to be repaired at the garage I trust that I mentioned earlier. I can change oil no problem, I just don't know where to dispose of the old oil. Maybe I should just lean into being scummy and throw it in the lake or just let it drain into some Tupperware and throw them into public trash cans. Much to consider. Much to stress over, more like. But for now, I'm back to slugging around old dirty wet couches and beds. I would ask myself why I don't get a desk job doing data entry and sending emails, but I know I'd be just as whiny and complainy there as I am here. At least here I get some exercise and some sun and a decent wage. My town isn't exactly a hub for business, but this is where I live so I take what gets doled out to me. There's a real meth problem in my city. Everywhere you go, you see people pushing shopping carts full of jumper cables, old shoes missing matches, and pounds upon pounds of sweets, eyes bugged out of their heads, screaming at people, twitching and itching all over. I've been having a nagging thought over the past couple of months that, while that seems less than optimal, I'm kinda at my breaking point. Should I just give up on regular society and run with that society? Or should I finally do what I've been thinking about since I was 15 and just kill myself. I know everyone says life gets better as you get older but I found that hard to believe back then, and I still do today. For now, I haul garbage.

2:49 : moved around as much junk as I could. There's still a couple of couches and a huge mattress by one of the bins but they don't fit in my car and the next empty bin to the one they're next to is about a kilometer away. I still have an hour left at work today so I may drag them over. I may not. Who's to say. I may just hang out. That's the beauty of working at the farthest property from the office. Nobody's gonna say anything! Since I last logged my stuff here, I went out to the D*** road property. It's a lazy Monday, I'm done all my make readys for my move ins next month so I'm not stressed, and I just cleaned up some garbage there. There's a lot less to do over there. One box spring, a couple cardboard boxes, and an old bathtub. All tossed in a bin. I caught one of the cleaners out there and we talked. I'm bad with names, so I can't put it here, even in a redacted form. She's nice though. We just talked about how expensive shit is getting, and how much of a dickhead our boss is. He drives a ferrari. He's a landlord. He's kinda a local villain. He sent me and everyone I work with an email to explain that we wouldn't be able to get in touch with him cause he's skiing in the north pole right now because business is so bad because hamas terrorists killed a bunch of innocent colonizers on the other side of the planet. OK man. I've worked here since the beginning of January and I still haven't seen him. And this is his second vacation of the year. Last was at the south pole. Thoughts and prayers dude, I hope you can crank up rent even higher soon 🙏. During my chat with the cleaning lady my bestie sent me some pics. During high school we were super tight, but their parents moved to Nova Scotia on our last day of grade 11 and they've lived there ever since. But just yesterday they touched down in Alberta for a summer job out in the mountains at some kind of resort. Included in some of the pics they sent me was a trailer park at the foot of some mountains. Doesn't that just seem beautiful? I'm not a man of excess, I'm very very easy to please, I think I could do well in a cheap double-wide with a view. I think I could convince Liv to get out there with me. She's in school right now so it would probably take a year or two. But I've talked about moving all over (even to alberta) so many times this is all just another pipe dream. That being said, best of luck to the homie Llewellyn and all of their future alberta endeavors.

4:00 : leaving work. Didn't do any more cleaning. Just sat around.

4:26 : just got home. Liv stayed home to study for her exams. But she cooked me some Ramen and hot dogs that were ready when i got home. Thank you Liv ❤️. She's watching a YouTube video where some Korean guys bite things in a kitchen, and some of the things they bite may be cake. It's a beautiful warm day out so I put down my tools and stripped butt naked, sat down on the couch, and dug into my food. I think I'm going to play some pokemon quarantine crystal on my phone.

4:54 : changed my mind and changed the TV to something we can watch together. Literally since I made that last entry to now I've been looking for a movie to watch. I settled on hereditary. It took me half an hour to find a movie. I think there's something wrong with my brain

5:15 : Liv wanted to paint so I'm here on da toilet thinking of things to paint

6:29 : I painted a face. I always paint faces. This one came out ugly. That's ok cause plenty of people have ugly faces. I feel ugly so I wanted to make something kinda ugly. I had a beer and now I'm laying in bed. I never nap but I feel like I want one right now. I asked Liv to wake me up in 20 but idk if I'll actually fall asleep at all. Guess we'll see.

6:34 : instagram was always fucking dumb but now it feels extra extra dumb.

8:29 : Liv came in to "wake me up" (I didn't sleep) but she climbed into bed and we held eachother and we had sex. We left bed, she continued painting and I played some Persona 4, which I haven't played in a bit. Good news everyone: Yukiko Amagi is safe!! Me and Liv are going out to get Boba now. Liv's painting is really pretty. A long time ago she painted one really similar to what she's painting now, so this one is kinda an update. A psychedelic bust of a headless pink and yellow lady on a royal blue background. She says she's gonna have flowers busting out of a crack in her chest and her head hole. I can't wait to see how it turns out.

10:04 : it's the end of the day. I took my garbage out and passed my downstairs neighbors in the hall. We said hi. Paper recycling today. I've been slacking on that one. I don't care about recycling, it's just that it tears the regular garbage bags so it's easier to put it in a bin. So it's all outside now. I took a quick shower. I didn't wash my hair because I don't like the way it looks after it's been washed, all poofy and round. I blew my nose in my hand and it was still black from the dust in the unit with the warped drywall. A symbol of a hard day's work. Well, maybe not that hard. Either way, I'm in bed right now. Liv is calling her mom. They're tight. When she hangs up, we'll probably watch some simpsons or seinfeld and fall asleep hugging eachother all soft and warm uwu