#for ur house to smell good for a single day before it fades……. no

[yujikuna]

genuinely why are there 500000 tiktok “hack videos” about what to clean ur floors with besides floor cleaner…….. just use floor cleaner

[dameronology]

to make a house a home {agent whiskey}

summary: just a soft weekend away in kentucky w/ our fave cowboy {for @zazzysseoul - thank u so much for ur support and i hope you enjoy!}

warnings: i think one or two swear words? but nothing else!

enjoy,

- jazz

Jack Daniels was good at reading people.

It was part of his job. He had to be observant, had to have a working understanding of body language and non-verbal signals. He was especially diligent about it when it came to you; it wasn’t a purposeful thing, but rather an instinct to keep an eye on the person he loved most in the world. He could read you like a book and some days, it felt like he knew you better than you knew yourself, and maybe he did. There was really no telling with Jack. Every time you finally thought you had experienced every little quirk and trait he had to offer, he managed to pull something out the bag. Whether it was his ability to predict a bad mood before it happened or the way he remembered every tiny little detail of a conversation, he was constantly proving himself to be one hell of a partner.

It was no surprise; Jack thought you deserved the best and so, that’s what he tried to give you. He didn’t often let people into his life, especially not after so much loss, but from the moment you’d met, he knew he could trust you. He’d always been a brilliant judge of character and he’d been completely right about you. You’d turned his entire world upside down; taught him how to love again and reminded him that the things he’d lost could be found again, just with a little care and patience. The empty house he used to come to was filled with love and laughter and little marks of you and him; photos from your various trips, magnets on the fridge, that he brought home from all the countries his job took him to, the little notes you left on his nightstand when you had to slip out for work before he rose. The first time Jack had come through the front door and almost tripped over your shoes, he’d cried - not out of anger or shock, but at the realisation that he was no longer alone. 

Jack had the innate desire to look after you. He knew you could handle yourself but that didn’t mean that you had to. You’d been there for him in every sense of the world, and he wanted to do the same, to make sure that you felt appreciated every second of every day. In his mind, if you ever questioned his love or loyalty, then he wasn’t doing his job right. That desire translated into little things, rather than grand displays of affection; he’d do your laundry when you worked late, sent you sweet texts through out the day and brought you flowers just because. It wasn’t uncommon to find that Jack had filled up your car with gas without asking, or to come home to your favourite take out. 

His biggest way, however, was in how well he knew you. Every slight change in demeanour and every variation in the tone of your voice was caught by him; he knew when you were okay, and he knew when you weren’t. He could tell when you were half-way between, and he’d do his best to bring you back to the lighter side. You take comfort in the fact he always had your back, no ifs or buts. 

When Jack woke up early one morning to find your side of the bed empty, he immediately knew that was something was up; the second his palm reached out for you, only to be met with a fistful of cold sheets, he knew. You never got out of bed early. There could have been an atomic war happening outside and you still would have refused to move, insisting on five more minutes before nuclear winter hit. The bathroom light was off and there wasn’t anything you could have found in the kitchen. After all, you’d only arrived at the ranch a few hours earlier. You were both tired from a few long weeks at work and escaping the suffocating fog of the city for the rolling hills and fresh air of Kentucky felt like heaven. 

Jack sat up, pausing for a moment. There was a gentle creek coming from somewhere; it was steady and rhythmic, ringing from the porch. His shoulder slumped wit relief - you were outside on the porch swing. At 6AM on a cold, winter’s morning. The relief was shorting lived. 

Pulling on his robe, Jack rubbed his eyes and headed out towards the porch. Sure enough, you were the first thing he saw, shoulders covered by the plaid shirt he’d worn the previous day and fluffy socks gently brushing against the floor with the movement of the swing. The light above you illuminated you in a soft smoulder, a golden glow cast over you, illuminating your tired eyes and disheveled hair. He would have lectured you about the cold, had you not had a knitted blanket around you. 

‘Bit early for you, ain’t it?’ Jack leant against the door frame, gently smiling when your eyes met. 

‘What’s early when you haven’t slept yet?’ You aimlessly joked. 

Lifting up the blanket, you silently gestured for him to come and sit next to you. Jack obliged, dropping down beside you and winding a large arm around your shoulder. He pulled you into his chest, placing a kiss on your temple. His warm body was a welcome feeling against the cold of the January air. 

‘What’s keeping you up?’ He softly coaxed. 

‘I don’t know, to be honest.’ You replied. ‘It’s just been a long week.’

‘I get that.’ His voice was slightly murmured. He pulled you even closer, chin resting on your head. ‘But we’re here now, sugar. I think we both need the down time.’

‘Definitely.’ You said. ‘Plus, the view isn’t so bad.’

The ranch overlooked a large field filled with cows and horses; it stretched out for miles, fading away into the distance into a seemingly endless close. The edges of the green pasture were tinged with the pink of a tonic sun rise, pushing away the dark of the night sky. It wasn’t often that you got to watch the sun come up, and it felt a little refreshing to see a new day come. It was fresh; a clean slate, young and naive, but full of possibility. An ironic thought, given that you and Jack were probably going to lay on the sofa the whole day and order take out. 

‘You’re right.’ He murmured from beside you.

‘Are you doing that thing where you look at me when I’m talking about a nice view?’ You peered up at him, thinning your eyes. 

‘You said it was romantic!’

‘The first five times, Jack!’ You chuckled, leaning up to press a kiss to his jaw.

‘Nothing is sacred anymore.’

You settled back against his chest with a smile. ‘I like it here.’

‘Me too.’ He agreed. ‘It’s nice to get away from the Apple. Everything over there if faster than a knife fight in a damn phone booth.’

‘And it doesn’t smell of pizza and...pee.’

You loved New York dearly; it had been your home for many years, and it was also where you’d met Jack. But, whether it was your permanent home, you didn’t know. There were some days when it all got so much. The city never quietened down and you could never quite escape it, even in the comfort of your own apartment. Out here, you were worlds away from that. Crickets were gently purring in the distance, and the only other sound came from the rustling of the animals in the field across the road. It was peaceful. Serene. 

‘What if we moved out here when I’m done at the Statesman?’ Jack posed, almost as though he were shy about broaching the subject. ‘We could get a couple horses. Maybe a dog. Heck, if you want a zoo, I’ll get you a zoo.’

‘I’d like that.’ You smiled. ‘I mean living here, not the zoo thing - but a dog and horses sounds nice.’

‘Then a dog and horses we shall get.’ He grinned. ‘Oh! I can teach you to ride.’

‘Or I could just watch you do it.’

‘There’s not a single person in this here town who can’t ride a horse.’ Jack said. ‘Unless a pony would be better.’

‘Why not both? We have enough room.’ You reminded him. ‘Maybe we can re-tile the kitchen too. It’s not that I don’t like the green, it’s just it’s...’

‘...dreadful?’

‘That’s a nice way of putting it.’

Because you didn’t live on the ranch full time, neither of you had put too much effort into making it homely. It was liveable, by all means, but the television in the living room dated back to the first Bush administration and the kitchen was a little too lime for your liking. The place had come furnished by the old owners, which had been a big selling point for Jack. He just wanted somewhere he could live whilst he was in Kentucky and this place had been practical. It wasn’t until you and your eye for interior design came along that he realised how retro it was. 

‘There’s a hardware store down the road.’ Jack said. ‘We can get a couple hours sleep and head down there later to see what they got.’

‘Maybe we can find something less green.’ 

‘I sure fucking hope so.’

---

The next morning, you and Jack bundled up into some warmer clothes and piled into the Bronco, heading for the store downtown. The actual city was miles out, but there lots of little local and independent places. There were little cafes and restaurants, as well as farmers’ markets and fresh produce. You had thought about living here permanently before, but you hadn’t verbalised it until Jack had suggested it first. Given everything that had happened in the past, you’d wanted to do things at his pace, but so far, you’d been perfectly in tune with one another. That was a testament to your relationship as a whole. 

‘I just smiled at that woman and she smiled back.’ You muttered to Jack, peering up at the store as you headed through the parking lot. 

‘And?’

‘I once smiled at a stranger on the Subway and they told me to piss off.’ 

Jack chuckled, reaching out to wind his arm around yours. He tangled your fingers together, pulling you flush against his side. It was easier to show physical displays of affection here too. He was always a little paranoid in the city, given how busy it was and how easy it would have been to for an enemy to hide. That was another thing Jack did without thinking; taking tiny little precautions to protect you. He couldn’t even begin to think about losing you. And the thought never popped up here. Never. Only in the city, where everything was loud and overwhelming.

The store itself was pretty big - it was good for you, but confusing for Jack. You had Pinterest boards with inspiration for all your hypothetical future houses, whilst Jack couldn’t the difference between ivory and sand. So, true to character, he let you tighten your grip on his arm and drag him towards the kitchen section, eyes wide like a kid in a candy store. You had a green blank canvas to go wild on, because probably would have agreed to anything. It wasn’t that he was a walk-over, or because he was lazy, he was just genuinely terrible at interior design. Introducing him to build mode on the Sims 4 had been traumatic enough. 

You didn’t have to decide anything immediately - after all, he’d said he wanted to move out here after he was done at Statesman. That was just as likely weeks as it was years. He did complain about his job giving him a bad back but you also knew that he enjoyed it. It was all he’d known for such a long time, and he’d worked hard to get to the top. Unbeknownst to you, he’d drop it all in a second if you wanted to relocate now. Even if he had the best job in the world and all the money he could ever want, the only thing Jack really needed was you.

‘Where do we even start?’ He asked, brown eyes staring confusedly at some paint samples. 

‘We start with the most important rooms - living room, kitchen, bedroom.’ You replied. ‘I’m thinking something midcentury for downstairs. What d’you think?’

‘Midwhatnow?’ His brows furrowed. 

You laughed. ‘Midcentury. So think...Bauhaus. Mid 60s sort of thing.’

‘Right.’ Jack nodded, getting a clearer idea. ‘How about you just to point to things and I’ll either shake my head or nod?’

Yeah, that sounded like a better idea.

And so, you began your trek around the store. Your Pinterest boards came in handy, especially for the kitchen - even Jack was grateful for them, because it meant you moved a little quicker. He did die inside a little when you grabbed a huge trolley and began piling it up with kitchen tiles, counters and cabinet doors, and even more so when you casually asked ‘you’re good at DIY, right?’

He didn’t complain though, not once. The sight of you rushing around the store, face lighting up at lamp shades and paint samples, was one of the best things he’d ever seen. Not only because it was hilarious, but also because it was the first time you really planned for your future. There was sort of an unspoken agreement that this was it, and that you were both in it for the long run, but neither of you had made any verbal plans together. You’d moved in together back in the city, but that had happened naturally. You’d started staying over and over more and more to sleep in his fancy Statesman bed and use his heavenly marble bathtub, and you came over one weekend and just never left. 

After a few hours, Jack finally had to put a stop to your antics. 

‘Okay, darlin’, I think we’ve reached the threshold now.’ He called. ‘We don’t need a new lighting fixture for the downstairs bathroom.’

You huffed. ‘Placing it back on the shelf.’

‘Fine.’

‘We’re gonna have a hard time getting in this car as it is.’ He held his arm out to you, signalling for you to come back to him. 

‘I’ll have to come back for the upstairs then.’ You muttered. 

‘We’ve gone from painting the kitchen to gutting the whole damn ranch, baby.’ Jack replied. ‘We’re only here for two more days anyways.’

‘Damn. I forgot about that.’ Your eyes widened. ‘I guess we better start today, then.’

--

This was supposed to be a relaxing weekend. 

Relaxing! 

And yet somehow, Jack Daniels was stood in the middle of his now half-demolished kitchen, a sledge hammer in one hand and a glass of his namesake whiskey in the other. He couldn’t deny that it had been fun to rip out the cabinets and tear off the tiles. He’d despised the colour of the kitchen for so long that it felt good to finally get rid of them, even if it meant that the tedious process of putting on the new ones came immediately after. You’d gone for simple black and white ones, with some mosaic ones for a...what had you called it? A feature wall or something. Apparently it added character (something he took your word for). 

‘So what’s the paint for?’ Jack frowned, taking a brush as you handed it to him. 

‘For the living room.’ You grabbed him by the shirt, dragging him out the kitchen.

‘But the kitchen isn’t done-’

‘- I’m bored of the kitchen.’ You said. ‘You don’t mind, do you?’

‘Course not, angel.’ He pressed a kiss to your forehead. 

After grappling with covering the furniture up, you and Jack began to paint. It wasn’t too hard of a process; he just sort of whacked it on, whilst you had a much more meticulous process. So what if he got a splash of grey on the light switch? Actually, on second second thought, he should probably wipe that off.

Besides, it only took him five minutes to get sidetracked. The sight of you stood across the room, his red and black plaid shirt hanging from your shoulders, face screwed up with concentration and paint on your nose, was a distraction in itself. It was the sort of moment he wanted to get on a Polaroid, but equally, one that he wanted to savour. He always entranced by you, but sometimes that amplified. You weren’t even doing anything special - just...existing. But that was enough to capture his attention in its entirety. 

He didn’t tear his eyes away from you - not until something cold hit him in the face, and a splatter of grey paint nearly hit his eye. The noise of your laughter pulled him back to reality, practically losing it as you doubled over, holding onto the fire place for support. You were lucky that it was his favourite sound but heck, you coulda dumped the whole bucket of paint on him and he wouldn’t have flinched. 

‘That was rude.’ Jack folded his arms across his chest. ‘I’m gonna get you for that.’

‘No, you won’t.’

You dropped your paintbrush, suddenly leaping over the couch and sprinting out into the hallway. Trying to outrun a highly-trained government agent (a fact you sometimes forgot) might have not been your brightest idea, but you still managed to breeze past him and skid into the kitchen, almost tripping over a strewn tile as you did. 

Jack was hot on your heels, arms reaching out to grab as you circled back into the living room. He managed to snatch you by the waist, pulling you down onto the sheet-covered couch - he was nice enough to use his own body to break the landing at least. You landed on his chest with a thud, still in a fit of giggles as he grabbed your face and planted kisses all over it. His lips were soft and warm, tasting of whiskey when they finally met yours. You tangled your hand through his hair in an attempt to bring him close, as though it were even possible. 

You broke the kiss, rolling off of Jack and onto the sofa next to him, nuzzling into his side. The paint you’d managed to get on him was on you now as well, smeared down the side of your face and a little onto his shirt that you were wearing. Not that it bothered him all that much, because the sight of you in any of his clothes was worth a little bit of paint. You had a sort of rotation, where you would steal various garments and wear them until they lost his smell, before dumping them in the laundry and swiping some more. They were always baggy, scented with his aftershave and the faint smell of the leather from his car. When he was away on missions, it was the nearest thing you could get to one of his warm hugs.

‘Darling, d’you think, just maybe, that we should just pay someone to do all this?’ Jack gently suggested. ‘I can have a guy from the agency come in and be done in like three days.’

‘Three days? For the whole house?’ You peered up at him with a frown. 

‘Their speciality is rebuilding places after we accidentally blow them up so this will be like a walk in the park.’ He explained. ‘Although, the kitchen isn’t far off. the place is lookin’ as messy as the farmers’ market after sundown.’

‘And Champ won’t mind you abusing Statesman resources like that?’ You teased.

‘The man is so rich that he buys a new boat when the other gets wet.’ Jack reminded you. ‘He ain’t gonna notice.’

‘You have a point.’ You nodded. 

‘Besides, they’re better at decorating-’

‘- interior design.’ You cut him off. ‘It’s a house, not a Christmas cookie.’

Jack dropped his head against yours, letting out a groan. ‘You know what I mean.’

‘I know.’ You leant up to press another soft kiss to his lips. ‘I love you.’

‘I love you too, angel.’ 

Even though it was still a little far off, the glimpse that this weekend had given you into your future meant everything to him. He’d brought the ranch as a place to crash on business stays, and now you were helping to turn it into a home. At one point, he hadn’t imagine having a life to look ahead to or a house to decorate or somebody to love. Even though they were small, everyday things, you’d brought so much into his life, and he was never going to let you forget it. 

[juniorfics]

Savior

I'm not sure when this was supposed to be set but let's say it's 2 years after Tamaki graduated from UA (so Deku and the others are third-years rn) and ur the same age as him so like 21/22

By: J

Tamaki Amajiki x Fem!Reader

Wordcount: 1.6k

Quirk: Toxic (Adding any of your cells to water makes it very poisonous.)

Warnings: Kidnapping

Sometimes you wished you had a different quirk, or even no quirk at all. Your quirk was dangerous, but since it was pretty easily controlled, you weren't bullied as much as some people you knew. Of course, there were always people who seemed to be angry at you for simply existing, but they never bothered you too much because you knew that you would never hurt someone on purpose. You'd always admired heroes, but you knew there was no way you could be one with your quirk. It might have worked if you could control the toxicity of the poison created from your cells, but you couldn't. It was immediately fatal, and there was no cure.

Your mom was quirkless and you had the same quirk as your dad. Growing up, you and your dad had to be incredibly careful not to touch water, and clean it up as quickly as possible. The poison you made wasn't toxic to either of you but it would be to your mom. Thankfully, you had never killed anyone with your quirk. Your grandma on the other hand- she was the first one to be born with the quirk, then your dad, then you. Your grandma accidentally killed her dad when her quirk first manifested. She had to figure out how to keep everyone safe from her quirk on her own.

You were older now and you lived on your own. You were single and ready for a relationship, the only problem was that you were in love. 'How is that a problem if you want to be in a relationship with them?' you ask? Well, you were in love with the pro hero, Suneater. He had saved you when your workplace burned down, and ever since then you'd followed all his cases. Not in a stalker kind of way, but simply to learn about him. As soon as you first saw his face through the smoke, you knew you wouldn't be able to forget him. You knew you should move on because, 'Hey, he's a pro hero. He's famous. He probably doesn't even remember me anymore,' but you just could not get him out of your head.

                                                         ~

Little did you know, Tamaki couldn't get you out of his head either. Why? It wasn't like he knew you well or anything. You had only talked briefly that day. Why couldn't he stop thinking about you? 'Should I try to find her somehow?' he asked himself. Even if he did manage to find you, would you think it was weird? Would you even remember him? He didn't know what to do.

                                                        ~

You were walking home from work. It was dark outside, but you didn't live far. You passed by the same shops and the same houses as every other day. The same dark alleyways. However, one thing was different today. The person who'd been patiently watching and waiting was ready to make their move. You felt a hand on your shoulder and tried to cry out in surprise only to have your mouth covered by a cloth. You tried to hold your breath, but quickly failed and sucked in. Your vision was fading. Everything was going dark.

                                                        ~

Tamaki flopped down on his bed still fully clothed in his hero costume. He'd just gotten off patrol. He rubbed his face, 'Ugh, I probably smell terrible. I should shower.' He lay there with his eyes closed for a moment. All of a sudden, his keen ears picked up what sounded like a woman's scream. His eyes flung open and he ran out the door. He reached the alley just in time to see a long, leather coat whip out of sight. He followed. It was a white-haired man carrying an unconscious, (h/c) woman. He followed close enough to keep sight of the man, but not so close that the man would be able to sense him. The man looked left and right, and Tamaki recognized him. It was Dabi from the League of Villains! 'What does the League want with that woman?' He asked himself. 'Whatever it is, it can't be good. I should let someone know where I'm going in case things go south.' He quickly texted Mirio the situation. Dabi stopped and entered a building. Tamaki pressed his ear to the door, it would be dangerous to barge in without knowing who or what was in there, so he waited, listening.

                                                         ~

You started waking up. In your groggy and disoriented state you could feel cold metal around your arms and legs.

"What's happening? Where- where am I?" you asked.

"Ah, y/n! Finally awake are we?" you couldn't see anyone and you didn't recognize the voice. Who could've brought you here?

"Who are you? How do you know my name? Where am I?" you asked franticly. Dabi stepped out of the shadows, "Don't you know me? I think my group and I have become quite well known," you gasped. You did recognize him now. He was-

"Dabi?! From the League of Villains?!" He bowed, "The very one," you didn't know what to do. You were completely in shock.

"But- what does the League of Villains want with me? I don't have money or power or anything..."

"Oh, but you do have power, y/n. We've been watching you and we think you could be very useful to us. We could use your poison in many different ways, if you'll join us, of course?" This left you more shocked. The League of Villains wanted you to join them? What?

"I would never join you. I decided a long time ago to never use my quirk. It's too dangerous," you said.

"Too bad," he sighed, "We're going to have to keep you here until you change your mind," now you really didn't know what to do. Should you say you'll join them and then escape? Should you wait for help? You chose the latter. You stared determinedly into Dabi's blue eyes.

"I won't change my mind, you know,"

"I wouldn't be so sure. You might after you get to know us better," at that moment the door was blown in. A hero! You were saved! Then you saw which hero had come. Your heart started pounding until you could feel it in your fingertips. Suneater. He looked you in the face and you saw his eyes widen. Did he remember you? He shook his head and turned toward Dabi. "Let her go," came Tamaki's quiet voice. "You really think I'm gonna let her go just because you asked?" Dabi rolled his eyes,

"Get ready to fight, hero!" Dabi's hand lit up with his fire and Tamaki's fingers turned into tentacles. They started fighting fiercely. You knew that you should or be paying attention to the fight happening in front of you, but your thoughts were on Tamaki. How did he find me? Did he follow Dabi here? Was that look because he remembers me? What kind of look was that? Oh, no! What if it was bad! What if the look was because he does remember me but doesn't like me! Why would he not like me?! We only talked for a minute! Was my first impression really that bad? Thoughts like these swirled around in your head, making you dizzy. Or maybe that was the smoke and chloroform, you weren't sure. Eventually you felt a soft hand on your cheek.

"Hey. Hey! Are you alright? Did he hurt you?" Suneater was talking to you!

"You- you're here! I- I'm okay. He didn't hurt me just knocked me out with chloroform and brought me here," you said, rather breathlessly. "Where's Dabi?"

"He ran."

"O-oh,"

"Can I h-help you out of those chains?"

"Yes, please," he cut the chains with a crab claw, you tried to stand but your legs gave out. He caught you.

"W-woah, hey, take it easy. You're shaking,"

'That's because you're so close to me!' You thought. He was so close. He was holding you in his arms. You had dreamed about this. Even if this isn't exactly how you planned, you were so happy and excited to see him again.

"We should stop meeting like this," you heard him say.

"Huh?"

"Oh, I guess you don't remember. I saved you from a burning building before. About a year ago. I've been hoping to see you again but I didn't know-"

"Wait you remember me?"

"W-well yeah. If I'm being honest, I haven't been able to get you out of my head,"

"Really? I... well I haven't been able to stop thinking about you either," you were both blushing like crazy.

"Can I take you out?" He asked.

"YES! Uh-um I mean yes, I would like that very much," you beamed at him. He beamed right back. He was feeling very good. You both couldn't wait.

                                                 ~Le time skip~

You and Tamaki have been married for a year now. You had never been happier. Everything was going great. You lived your life worrying about your husband but you were confident that he'd always come back to you. Everything was perfect. That's how it seemed anyway. Dabi was back. The League still wanted to use your quirk. Be careful.

I FINALLY FINISHED THIS I'M SO SORRY I kept forgetting about it and I finally finally finished it! I probably won't write a part 2 to this cause I'm lazy but I might. Thanks so much for the request :) (also I would've said u and Tamaki were gonna have kids but personally I want to adopt so I just didn't put it in there at all) I hope y'all like it! The end is maybe a little rushed but (as I've mentioned before) I'm too lazy to do anything about it.

[starsfic]

The Ghosts of Fiery Cloud Manor- Chapter 1: Escape

Summary: An incident with his birth family leads to Xiaotian cleaning an abandoned manor for his summer. (Or, things went down after Wukong defeated DBK.)

AO3

Notes: This was the fic idea I mentioned when I was doing that ‘Dad Pigsy inspired by the influx of dad done by @ninja-knox-ur-sox-off and @its-kall-the-clown’ fic snippet.

-_-

Earlier this week, going out into the country to clean up an abandoned manor wasn’t in the plans for Xiaotian’s summer.

   Mostly, his plans had consisted of avoiding his parents, hanging with Xiaojiao at the porty club and arcade, and working at Pigsy’s Noodles. But then the week had ended and he found himself on a bus, driving out to the mountains. He found himself questioning every choice on that drive. Why had he left the city again?

   Oh, right.

   His father, in a fit of rage, had attacked him.

   Surrounded by the aftermath of all that, Pigsy had sat him down and explained that he was worried about him. He wasn’t going to fire him. “ But I do think you need to get out of the city until this all dies down,” Pigsy said the morning after he had beaten Xiaotian’s father off his delivery boy. He had explained that he had received a call from an ex-boyfriend of his named Tang. “His family owns a large manor out in the mountains. He’s decided that he’s going to clean it up over the summer and then decide what to do with it. He needs some help that he’s willing to pay…”

   With that, Xiaotian had realized what his boss had been offering.

   Escape. Far from the city. Possibly with no wifi. And work he could lose himself in and not think about his horrible parents. This place could’ve been in Serbia and it didn’t matter. His thrilled “Yes!” would’ve been the same.

   At least his birth family gave him a scapegoat to blame every petty inconvenience on. The cold snap in summer that the village was experiencing. The flat tire that the bus had that delayed his trip by an hour. The bus jolt that had spilled his coffee over his shirt. All of that was their fault. “Sorry,” the innkeeper said. “No lift.”

   Definitely their fault.

   Xiaotian heaved his suitcase up the three flights of stairs, absently cursing his family in his mind. Finally, he came to his room, pulling out the old-fashioned key. At least that was cool. The door opened with a creak, allowing him to look around.

   A slanted ceiling, a comfortable-looking single bed, and a little oak chest of drawers under the window were all that greeted him. At the moment, he decided to concentrate on the positives. He wouldn’t be able to hole himself up in this room without expiring from boredom. Xiaotian pushed his suitcase into the room and set it on his bed. A chirp came from the bed.

   Well, that was weird.

   He poked his head under the bed, coming face to face with a small white monkey. The monkey blinked at him. Then it yawned, showing some very sharp teeth. “Uh, hello.” he finally said. The monkey gave another chirp before hopping out. Xiaotian leaned back and watched as it wrapped its arms around his neck. “Uh...okay.” He carefully lifted up the monkey.

   He left the room, shutting the door behind him, before heading back down the stairs. The innkeeper gave him a smile when he showed up at the front desk. “Nice to see you making friends,” he greeted him, waving at the monkey. “This little fellow likes to come from the temple and come visit.”

   “The temple?”

   The innkeeper nodded. “Yes, another one of the properties that the scholar here owns.”

   “He’s the reason I’m here,” Xiaotian said, hoping to get some info about the manor. “He hired me to clean, uh…” He pulled his phone out of the monkey’s paw, setting it on the counter, and pulled up the info. “Fiery Cloud Manor?”

   “Oh.” The innkeeper looked upset before pulling out a paper. “Here, in case you want to look.” He pointed to a section. “This is the hiking trail most people use to get up to that manor. It’s been abandoned for...a while, so I believe you’ll have a lot of work.”

   “I see. Sorry.”

   “Whatever for?” The innkeeper looked confused by the apology and he instantly felt ridiculous.

   Xiaotian thanked him, waved bye to the monkey (and felt ridiculous as he did so), and rushed out. By the time he was at the trail, he was too far to go back to get the keys to the manor without looking a touch unhinged. Which he wasn’t. He hoped.

   Stupid birth family.

   As he walked, the view started to come to life around him. Evergreen trees were mixed with bamboo and lovely pink flowers bloomed around him. Xiaotian couldn’t help but stop every so often, taking in the scenery. Walking along in a beautiful mist-filled forest to an ancient manor felt like something out of a fairytale.

   His reality faded when the path stopped at a pair of gates.

   The gate gleamed a gold color, a pattern of flames decorating the top. They were wet with condensation when Xiaotian leaned against them, getting his fill of the manor. It looked proud, a mixture of ancient Tang palaces and a classic English manor, a red roof gleaming among the mist. For a moment, he couldn’t help but stare.

   It was beautiful.

   For a moment, he wished he had been a little less freaked out at the inn. Then he could have the key and get into that place and- He leaned a little more against the gate. A creak was his only warning before the gate swung open.

   Well, that wasn’t safe!

   Who knew who had been around and found the gate unlocked?! Firing a quick text to Mr. Tang, Xiaotian shot through, thoughts of this beautiful house being ransacked filling him with fury. It grew worse when he reached the red doors with bull-patterned knockers and found them unlocked. How dare whoever did this?! The value in a place like this didn’t lay in money but in the fact that it was a snapshot of the past and the idea that it had been harmed through carelessness…

   Light followed him through the open door into the entrance hall of Fiery Cloud Cavern. The windows were too clouded to allow any light that way. A grand staircase led up into a corridor, all smelling of dust and neglect. Xiaotian pulled out his phone and flicked on the flashlight. His anger dimmed when he saw that the dust on the stone floor appeared to have only been disturbed by him.

   He moved deeper in, not quite satisfied yet. The must smell increased as he moved away from the door, but he was getting that creepy ‘being watched’ sensation. He looked up and yelped when he made eye contact with a portrait. “Oh, thank gods,” he breathed out, examining the dusty red-haired man. If there was still art on the walls, that probably meant everything was still intact, if he was willing to guess.

   The next painting was of a grassy hill, a scraggly tree on top. Looking off into the distance, a woman sat under the tree. Before Xiaotian could study the next portrait, a cold wins blew. He glanced back, seeing the light starting to fade. He made a face at the thought of going back.

But Mr. Tang had been kind enough to rent a room in the inn for him. Plus, any bed in here was probably gross and bug-infested. So, he would go back down and get a good night's sleep. And then come for a full day of exploration.

The thought put a skip in his step and he chased that high out the door, firmly closing it behind him, and to the gate. There, he stopped. He couldn't just leave it open. Even with the lack of breaking-in evidence he saw, he wouldn't be able to sleep.

Xiaotian pulled off his headband and used it to tie a tight knot around the lock. It held firm when he gave the gate an experimental shake. Satisfied, he smiled.

"See you tomorrow."

He headed down the trail, happy at the adventure he had been presented with.

He was unaware of a figure appearing in smoke and flame when he was halfway down the mountain.

A claw reached out and tugged his headband off.

[nat-roman0ff]

all i want for christmas is us

all i want for christmas is us

an entry for @saintlymendes​ secret santa

for: nicole (@tell-me-when-ur-ready​)

-

words: 2,092 warnings: some swearing, angst, and cavity inducing fluff (it is christmas after all)

-

 Shawn looks down again at his phone, scrolling through the photos. Happy. Warm. Holiday season. Ice skating at his favorite park, kissing under the mistletoe, and posing in the matching pajamas his mum had bought for the entire family. A smile creeps up on his face and then disappears just when he starts to feel its warmth. 

 Last Christmas. 

 Last Christmas the photos were taken. Last Christmas they were happy. Last Christmas she had said yes to marrying him. 

 Now the photos just served as painful reminders of his current reality. Sitting alone in his half empty condo. He couldn’t bare to replace the things she took, just in case she decided to come back.

Odds and ends mostly; an end table she purchased at an antique store and lugged eight blocks back home on a hot August weekend, an ottoman where the two would sit on the floor across from each other and play cards all night over a bottle of her favorite red wine, an entirely empty wall that used to make up her vinyl collection. The half empty condo matched his half empty heart.

 Shawn locks and drops his phone to his chest with a thud, opting for the sting of its weight on his sternum over the stinging of his broken heartstrings. He still hadn’t cleaned up the red wine stain from the carpet when she spilled it last Christmas. Getting rid of that was the last bit of her still around and, well, he needed to still hold onto something. 

 Karen’s rung three times at this point. She knew it was going to be a hard day for him, insisted he spend the night Christmas Eve but Shawn declined and instead drank himself stupid until three in the morning and passed out on the living room floor next to her red wine stain.

 He thought about calling her, wishing her a Happy Christmas, or anything just to hear her voice. It hadn’t been a messy breakup, at least at first. She said it was too much too soon and the constant pressure from the outside world was starting to seep through their happy little bubble. 

 Time. It was always time that she needed. But after she returned the ring, the weeks faded into months and when he saw that first picture come up on his timeline he knew that their time had run out. 

 It was innocent enough; someone he knew through mutual friends but could never remember his name. Smiling, with her lips pressed against his cheek. 

 She was with someone else. 

 He blacked out that night, somewhere in the middle of a world tour in a foreign city and woke up the next morning by Brian dumping a glass of water on his head. He cried for a day and a half straight and then again when he had to tell his mum. 

 Time.

 Everyone said it was all he’d need to get over her; the love of his life. He’d known it from a very young age, before the fame, before they’d ever exchanged a wayward glance at each other. He knew she was going to be the one for him, for the rest of his life. 

 Until she wasn’t.

 Write about it. Was his first thought. Write until your fingers bleed and there’s nothing left in your head. Write out every memory, every feeling, every ounce of pain that courses through your God forsaken veins and then you’ll be rid of her. But Shawn couldn’t write. He couldn’t put down a single fucking word in the six months since she left. He just couldn’t describe it; there was no way to put into words how he was feeling, nothing that did it justice, nothing that captured the pathetic sadness that lingered in his bones about her.

 -

 It’s half past two when Karen finally got ahold of him. He’d lost track looking at photos, letting his memories replay on the walls of his condo over and over again. He watches the two of them dance in the kitchen at midnight and make love on the living room floor in the morning, wrapped up in each other’s arms. If he was miserable at home on Christmas, he was going to be even worse at his parent’s house. 

 Everything was the same as it was last year when Shawn finally walks through the front door of his parent’s home, right down to the smells. Except she’s not there. There’s a small box in the spot where the ring box sat last year on the tree and Shawn tries to blink away the onset of tears that threaten to come through. He wonders which cousin is getting engaged this year.

 Asshole stole my idea.

 “Everything alright, darling?” Karen asks in only that mum way. She knows it’s not. It hasn’t been for a while. 

 Shawn nods his head, “yeah, fine. Just...you know. I knew today would be hard.” 

 Karen smiles, “I know, honey. But they day’s not over yet,” she says with a wink.

 Something in Shawn’s heart flutters.

 “C’mon,” she starts, “let’s go open presents.” 

 -

 An hour and two bags full of wrapping paper later the Mendes’ family is nearly finished unwrapping gifts. Shawn’s eyes glance over to the box sitting snugly on the tree branch. No one has reached for it yet, and as things are winding down he can’t help but stare at it, wanting to know the contents. It’s slightly larger than a ring box, but not enough to put anything substantial in it. 

 “There’s one more for you,” Manny points to the tree. 

 Shawn looks at the box and back to his father and he nods. Standing, he goes to the tree and opens the box with shaky hands. There’s a folded up piece of paper inside and he immediately recognizes her handwriting and that stupid gold pen he always hated. It smeared the edges of her letters, he never thought it would end up being something he missed. Shawn can feel the heat of his family watching him as he reads;

 Shawn,

 It’s been too long since we last spoke and I suppose I owe you a lot. See, time is a funny thing. It feels the most fleeting when you have none of it left and the most crippling when you’re looking down the barrel of forever. I needed time on my own, I needed time with other people. I needed to know that what we had was what my forever was meant to look like and to do that I needed to find out a little more about myself. So, as it turns out I actually DO like cucumbers, riding motorcycles, and being alone. But I still hate tomatoes, unicorns (don’t ask) and being away from you. I’m sorry for the pain that I’ve caused you. I know there’s never going to be a way I can take that away or make it up to you, but I want you to know just how sorry I am.

 Meet me tonight at 6 where we had our first date (yes, the first-first one, not the second-first one, you’ll know what I’m talking about).

 Love, Nicole

 His ears are ringing when he looks up - eyes immediately checking the clock on the wall behind him: 5:55. 

 “Fuck - I gotta go!” 

 Shawn runs to grab his shoes and jacket. It’s faster if he runs, he thinks. It’s not far and his car is packed in with his relatives in the driveway and it would take ten minutes just for everyone to move out of the way. He sets off as the snow starts to pick up, slipping and sliding against the sidewalk pavement, breath coming out in foggy puffs. 

 He runs to the park by the high school. It’s not far, and he thinks he can make it in time. His cheeks are frozen, and snowflakes keep getting stuck in his lashes but Shawn just runs to her. When he rounds the corner to cross he sees her there, sitting on that same old dingy swing set that has somehow (despite looked rotted for at least the last twenty years) has never broken. She’s bundled up in her winter coat, looking down at her boots absentmindedly drawing pictures in the snow with the tip of her shoe. 

 The park had been their halfway point when they were kids; perfectly in the middle of each house when they didn’t want to worry about being around parents. It had been here that they had their first date in sixth grade; a picnic of PB&J’s that ended in an unforecasted rainstorm. She didn’t mind, and they splashed and danced in the puddles and went home a dirty sopping mess and he was sure that was the exact moment he fell in love with her. Even though he wasn’t sure what that meant yet. As all things do when you’re twelve, the relationship ended just as quick as it started and it wasn’t until six years later that things actually became serious.

 But that’s another story for another day.

 He’s not sure what to say when he approaches her. His chest is frozen from heaving in the frigid air and she just looks up from the swing and stares. He’s not sure it was possible for her to get more beautiful, but she somehow managed to. Her cheeks were pinked like his, her hair sprinkled with tiny snowflakes. 

 “I know how much we both love grand romantic gestures,” she laughs.

 Fuck, he never thought he’d hear that laugh again and it literally warms his chest to. 

 “Nicole I -” 

 “Shawn I’m sorry,” she starts, “I have no way to ever make up what I did to you. I just...I got really fucking scared. You’re the only person I’ve ever been with and that terrified me. I didn’t know what it was like to be young and single or do something by myself. So I had to be alone -” 

 “What about that guy? The one you posted a picture with?” Shawn says.

 Nicole slaps her forehead with her palm, “Shawn, Joe is my friend.” 

 He sucks in a breath of air, “oh.” 

 “There was never anyone else,” she pats the empty swing next to her, “there’s never going to be anyone else.”

 Shawn sits beside her, it feels good to be this close again; to see all the little things about her up close that made her, her. All the little things he failed to appreciate before she had gone. 

 “So what does this mean now?” He asks. 

 Nicole reaches for his frozen hand and holds it in her gloved one, “I hope it means you still have that ring -” 

 Before she can finish Shawn pulls the chain of her swing towards him to bring her closer, and kisses her. Her lips are cold and chapped but so are his and there’s a brilliant warmth of familiarity that his bones recognize and he melts into her, wrapping an arm around her middle and holding on like his life depends on it. 

 (It does)

 “So how did you even pull this off? Shawn asks when he pulls away. 

 Nicole smiles, “Karen helped me.” 

 He snorts, “I knew it.”

 The park is so silent Shawn swears he can hear the snowflakes hit the ground, trapped in their own personal snow globe. They sit quiet for a moment, and Shawn is still trying to process what just happened. He can feel her still lingering on his lips; the same sickly sweet lip gloss she always wore. 

 “Do you want to go home?” He asks, looking at her through snow flake lined lashes. 

 Nicole nods, “I’d really love that.” 

 Shawn threads his fingers through hers and they walk hand in hand back to the Mendes household. He feels the gold circular piece of metal against his chest. He’s worn it there for so long he’s forgotten he has it. 

 He stops them in the middle of the sidewalk and bends down onto one knee onto the snow, reaching under his shirt and jacket to snap the engagement ring off the chain he wore around his neck. 

 “Will you marry me...again?” 

 Nicole nods frantically, “yes! Now get up before your jeans get wet.”

 Shawn stands and pulls her into a kiss, threading his fingers through her hair until the both of them are out of breath. 

 “Hey Shawn,” she starts, lips still ghosting against his, “Merry Christmas.” 

 He smiles so hard it hurts his cheeks, “Merry Christmas, my love.”

[hexcaught]

it's  been  𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧  𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬  since  the  𝐩𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝  wizard,  𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐇𝐔𝐑  𝐖𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐘  was  sorted  into  𝐠𝐫𝐲𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐫  upon  arriving  at  hogwarts.  i  suppose  over  the  years  we've  learnt  that  he  is  𝐢𝐧𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐭��𝐯𝐞,  𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐝,  𝐢𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭  &  𝐛𝐨𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐬,  i  guess  that's  why  they  were  sorted  where  they  were.  (  𝑙𝑒́𝑜  𝑑𝑎𝑢𝑑𝑖𝑛.  )

𝐀𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐒   !

a  desk  cluttered  high  with  half-read  books  and  pencil  sketches,  sharing  a  joint  behind  the  greenhouses  with  a  pretty  girl  whose  name  you've  forgotten,  faded  photos  of  far-off  places  clipped  from  newspapers,  the  soft  tick  of  an  old  dented  watch,  stifling  laughter  in  the  back  of  class,  the  smell  of  slightly  burnt  fresh-baked  bread,  hand-me-down  robes  worn  over  squared  shoulders,  running  late  but  always  making  it eventually.

𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐈  𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓   !

i.  OLD  TOWN  ROAD   -   little  nas  x  ft.  billy  ray  cyrus.

ii.  ALWAYS  GOLD   -    radical  face.

arthur  was  born  the  middle  of  three  boys,  smack  in-between  gabriel,  the  oldest,  and  bilius,  the  youngest,  to  a  family  that  never  had  much  of  anything  save  love.  he  grew  up  wearing  hand-me-downs  before  passing  them  on.  some  days  he  was  mischievous  and  got  up  to  trouble  with  gabriel,  some  days  he  was  nurturing  and  helped  care  for  bilius

the  little  house  they  live  in  really  wasn’t  built  to  hold  five  people  and  arguments  sprung  up  daily,  like  weeds  through  cracks  in  the  pavement,  but  at  the  end  of  the  day  family  comes  first.

excepting,  of  course,  his  mum’s  side  of  the  family.  the  blacks  disowned  cedrella  when  she  married  septimus,  a  known  blood  traitor,  but  her  attitude  towards  that  (  at  least  outwardly  )  has  never  been  anything  but  good  riddance.  both  art’s  parents  believe  strongly  in  blood  equality.

most  people  call  him  art,  but  he’ll  always  be  artie  to  his  mum.  unless  he’s  in  trouble,  of  course,  in  which  case  it’s  arthur  tobias  weasley,  come  here  this  instant—

he  loves  learning,  to  the  point  where  the  hat  considered  ravenclaw  for  him.  always  tinkering  with  something.  total  muggle  studies  nerd

he’s  frequently  too  loud  and  doesn’t  even  realize  it  –  growing  up  with  two  brothers  means  you  have  to  be  loud  to  be  heard.  loudness  increases  directly  as  proximity  to  The  Boys  increases

definitely  has  adhd  but  not  diagnosed  because  #wizards.  he’s  constantly  handing  in  work  late,  essays  scrawled  messily  on  the  back  of  old  homework.  always  loses  track  of  time  and  shows  up  late  to  class  with  a  big  ol’  bashful  grin  on  his  face.  super  forgetful,  would  lose  his  head  if  it  wasn’t  attached  to  his  neck.  

he  does  his  best  to  be  kind  !!  every  single  day  !  he  really  is  a  kind  boi

that  being  said,  he  can  sometimes  get  overexcited  and  be  oblivious  to  other  people’s  feelings  or  social  cues

wants  to  travel  so  bad  :(  but  alas  #money

lowkey  ?  a  little  bit  of  a  player  !  he  never  purposefully  leads  girls  on  but  he  does  like  having  fun  without  committing  to  something  seriously  like  a  relationship  lol

i  don’t  think  i  can  empathize  enough  how  much  he  LOVES  HIS  FRIENDS  !!  i  am  serious  !!!!  tell  the  whole  world  we’re  bros....  why’d  u  whisper  bro.....  cause  ur  my  whole  world  bro

has  tried  out  for  the  quidditch  team  a  couple  times  and  hasn’t  gotten  on  but  he’ll  always  be  down  for  a  casual  game

hands  in  homework  late  but  you  can  still  find  him  after  class  chatting  up  a  storm  with  the  teacher

he’s  a  prefect  and  he  really  does  do  his  best  but  he  do  be  biased  so  if  you’re  a  gryffindor  breaking  the  rules  he  might  turn  a  blind  eye.  great  with  the  firsties  tho

loose  connection  ideas:  HIS  BOYS !!  ART  NEEDS  HIS  HOMIES  !!!,  someone  muggleborn  he  can  annoy  with  questions  abt  the  muggle  world,  maybe  someone  who  had  to  work  with  him  for  a  group  project  and  got  fed  up  with  his  disorganized  ass,  flings/hookups/fwb  (  current  or  ex  ),  sibling-type  relationship  (  especially  a  sister-like  relationship  since  he  already  has  actual  brothers  ),  people  he  can  play  casual  quidditch  with,  prefect  buddies,  anything  honestly

[breathlester]

Three for the price of one

pairing: dan howell/phil lester

summary: ‘the holiday’ inspired au where Dan and Phil spend a promising first date until Phil leaves in a hurry, dropping his wallet. Dan returns it the next day hoping for an explanation, but gets more than he bargained for.

genre: angst and fluff, angst with a happy ending, parenting, halloween/autumn

cw: references to minor character death, car accidents and trauma/injury; mentions of alcohol

"Soo ur still good 4 tonight?"

Dan taps away at his laptop nervously, waiting for the reply that comes seconds later.

- "I am indeed. x] Why, are you having second thoughts?"

He exhales, a smile forming on his face. Phil has a way of combining perfect grammar with strange emojis that makes Dan’s stomach flip over in the most pleasant way. And thinking about the effect Phil will have on him when they’re face to face for the first time in a couple of hours does absolutely nothing to calm his nerves.

"Nah just making sure haha :D" he types, ignoring the fact that he is nowhere near as relaxed as the casual “nah“ suggests.

Phil just sends a "♡" in response and Dan promptly chokes on his own saliva, hurrying to replicate the symbol, accidentally adding a second 3 to the heart. Hopefully Phil won’t think he’s overly eager. Although he is, but Phil doesn’t need to know that.

- "Can’t wait to see you, but you will have to let me leave now if you want me to be on time! ^-^"

"k, see u in 3 hours!"

- ":)"

Dan stares at the smiley face for a good half minute, his own face mirroring the expression, before he pulls himself together and logs out of the dating website.

„Right, time to choose an outfit.“

He turns around to consider the assortment of clothes laid out on his bed. His two favorite pairs of black skinny jeans, four different black t-shirts, one button-down (black) and two jackets (both black as well). At least the colour won’t be a problem...

-

Hushed beats of a slow-paced indie song sound softly through the walls and the lights are comfortably dim, the pub warm and buzzing with people, but it doesn’t have the same relaxing effect on Dan as it usually would. His eyes scan the room anxiously and his teeth torment his bottom lip. He’s about to make his way over to the bar when someone calls his name and he halts, turning and catching the eye of a tall black-haired man on the other side of the room. “Phil,” Dan says under his breath, exhaling in relief, and starts towards him.

His date is sat on one of the sofas in the corner, looking absolutely gorgeous. Even though they’ve skyped a handful of times before to make sure neither of them is a 60-year-old pervert, Dan finds himself speechless at the sight of Phil. His denim shirt is unbuttoned to reveal a turquoise t-shirt that brings out the various colours in his eyes and his black hair is pushed back to reveal his forehead. His features are clear-cut, skin as pale as if he’s carved out of marble, and he’s smiling at Dan.

“Hi,” Dan breathes, feeling himself blush and his heart beat quicken.

Phil gets up to greet him and they behold each other for an awkward moment before Phil chuckles and leans in to hug him. “Hi,” he says softly next to Dan’s ear, and it takes all of Dan’s self-control not to melt right there in his embrace, butterflies tingling his stomach. He takes a deep breath, filling his lungs with a delicate flowery scent.

“You smell really nice,” he blurts out as they pull away, blushing even deeper when Phil’s beautiful eyes widen.

“Oh, thank you. I don’t wear cologne a lot. It’s not too much?” he asks abashedly, glancing up at Dan, who to his own surprise is slightly taller than him.

“Not at all! It’s, uh, it’s perfect.”

Phil answers with another bright smile that catches Dan off guard and giggles when it takes him a moment to sit down.

“So, do you feel more like dancing or talking?”

“How about a drink first?” Dan suggests and Phil waves a nearby waiter over to them. “Two margaritas, please. - Unless you need to drive?”

Dan shakes his head quickly and Phil adds with a playful little wink, “They’re on me.”

-

It’s been four months since Dan stumbled across Phil’s profile on the dating website and three since he’s worked up the courage to message him. Phil, who described himself as a “wanna-be writer and muse enthusiast”, replied a day later and from then on they’ve been chatting almost non-stop. Although Phil is four years older and lives on the countryside whilst Dan is a film student from central London, they’ve bonded over a similar taste in TV shows and music. However, it has taken Dan a while to coax some more personal information out of Phil and even longer until Phil agreed to their first date – even if the other man assured him that this was only due to being busy and not because he was hesitant to meet him. To be honest, that didn’t really convince Dan since he could not imagine a self-employed writer and editor to have an immovable time schedule.

All that aside, if tonight goes well, Dan is more than willing to forget about this tiny drop of bitterness.

And so far, it’s going great.

They’ve sipped their drinks and Phil has interrogated Dan about the internship with the BBC he is currently diong in the course of his studies. In turn, he’s let Dan in on his work as an editor and his new-found obsession with house plants.

“I’ve got quite a nice garden, but there’s not much to do out there in the cold season, so I thought, why not get some green inside? Big mistake. Turns out house plants are a lot more high-maintenance! I’ve already killed two!”

Dan giggles, taking another sip of his drink. “I couldn’t even keep a cactus alive. I guess student digs just aren’t the most healthy environment.”

No matter what he’s talking about, Dan finds himself drawn in and fascinated by Phil. He’s got a uniquely funny way of telling a story that has Dan giggling like a teenager and hanging on his lips like snake bite piercings.

And his eyes sparkle when he laughs. “Oh, I like that song! Fancy some dancing?”

Feeling warm and pleasantly tipsy, Dan nods and takes the hand Phil offers him. More like I fancy you, he thinks as they take their place among couples and singles on the dancefloor in the adjoining room and after some stumbling around fall into an easy rhythm.

Phil’s arm is resting on Dan’s shoulder and it feels both casual and meaningful, like a careful experiment. The exhilarating beat of Muse’s Madness pumps through Dan’s veins and lets his spirit soar, makes him throw his head back and grin at Phil whose eyes are reflecting the flashing spotlights like lighthouses. He’s beautiful and he’s mouthing the lyrics at Dan, pulling dramatic faces, and Dan feels so good, so alive and amorous…

When the song fades into a slow-paced one, Phil’s arm slips down from his shoulder and snakes around his waist, and Dan gently pulls him closer until the other man’s chin rests on his shoulder. They sway on the spot, engulfed in each other’s presence like a small bubble in a sea of people. The butterflies in Dan’s stomach have doubled and are swirling uncontrollably.

“Hi there, again,” Phil whispers, and Dan runs his hands up his torso, feeling him shiver under his touch. “Hi.”

Slowly, his hands move from Phil’s shoulders to his cheeks and he gives him a questioning look. Phil’s forehead is pressed against his as they lock eyes and he smiles, all flushed skin and the tickling of soft hair, of warm breath. Dan glances down at his lips…

A ringtone disturbs the ballad now playing in the background and Phil recoils, his right hand darting into his back pocket immediately. Dan releases the breath he’s holding, feeling disappointment seep through him like a sudden downpour.

He catches sight of Phil’s phone screen for a second and registers against his will that the caller is a pretty blonde woman saved as “Louise” in Phil’s contacts.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Dan, I have to take this!” Phil says loudly to make himself heard above the noise, offering him a quick apologetic smile before he pushes through the crowd, away from Dan.

-

He waits for one song, then another, moving awkwardly on his own along to an unknown beat. But when the third song spins into the fourth, Dan gives up his position and goes on a search. Another couple is snogging on the sofa where they had their drinks, and Phil’s not in the queue for the toilets, nor is he sitting at the bar. Perhaps he’s outside, Dan thinks and debates whether or not it would seem intrusive to go look for him if he’s still on the phone – but then the bartender waves him over.

“You haven’t seen a man with black hair done like mine, about my height?” Dan asks hopefully.

The heavily-tattooed, rather beefy guy nods and adds, “Told me to tell you he had to leave. Seemed terribly sorry about it.”

Dan’s heart sinks in his chest like a coin dropped in a fountain. “Did he say anything else?”

The bartender shrugs, continuing to rinse the glass he’s holding. “Was in a hurry. And besides, do I look like an answering machine to you?”

“I – no. Sorry,” Dan stutters, feeling his face grow hot with disappointment and embarrassment.

The barista’s face softens slightly. “Hey, better luck next time, mate, alright?”

Yeah, Dan thinks bitterly. Except there won’t be a next time after he’s let me down like this.

There’s no point in staying if Phil’s gone. Trudging to the front door, all excitement seeped out of him, he’s close to wallowing in self-pity when his foot catches on something on the floor.

Someone’s dropped a wallet. Not just any wallet though – it’s an Adventure Time themed one.

A grin has already halfway spread across Dan’s face when he bends down to pick it up, unfolding it carefully. What kind of adult would use an Adventure Time wallet on a date in a pub?

His assumption is confirmed when his eyes fall on the card tucked into the front pocket. “Philip Lester, editor and freelance writer,” it reads, and listed below are Phil’s phone number, email and home address.

I’ll give him one more chance, Dan decides as he pockets the wallet and pushes open the door, the chilly October wind ruffling his hair. Tomorrow I’ll drop the wallet off at his place and see if he’s got an explanation for me.

He hates to admit it, but he really hopes Phil does.

-

Dan looks down at his phone once again, double-checking the small blue dot that indicates his position. “This is the middle of fucking nowhere,” he declares out loud.

Behind him, though long out of sight, lies the city of London. To the left – nothing but fields. To the right a forest is climbing up the gentle curve of a hill. And ahead there’s this bumpy path he’s been following for the past thirty minutes that was most definitely not built for motorcycle trips. He’s beginning to regret his impulsive action.

And yet the app on his phone insists that he is on the right track. Dan takes a deep breath, filling his lungs with the sweet-smelling autumn air.

“Okay, let’s give this one last shot. Another half mile and if nothing turns up then except for more scarecrows and creepy abandoned barns, I’m going to turn back and send him his wallet by mail.”

He snaps the visor of his helmet shut with a sort of final resolution and mounts his motorcycle again.

The frosty head wind makes him wish he’d worn a jumper underneath his leather jacket and Dan is about to give up when the path leads through a small grove and turns a corner – and there it is, appearing seemingly out of nowhere.

A single small, ancient-looking house, leaning alarmingly to one side, its uneven stone walls covered to a large part by rampant roses, some of them still in bloom.

There’s no fence surrounding the cottage, but the letterbox in front of it bears a wooden sign that dangles in the wind and states in ornate letters “Rosery Cottage”.

Hesitantly, Dan clambers off his bike and retrieves his phone from the inside pocket of his jacket. “You have reached your destination.”

The narrow path of cobblestone that leads up to the door is framed by a couple of crooked walnut trees whose leaves are scattered across the lawn. To the right, an old battered VW Golf is parked on a makeshift driveway. A pair of wellingtons stand guard on the wooden patio.

Dan takes a deep breath and starts towards the house, thinking as he rings the bell, this better be Phil and not some misanthropic old hag.

-

What he certainly does not expect is a little girl in dungarees and a yellow jumper opening the door. Her copper brown hair is braided in two rather messy pigtails, her round face dotted with freckles and there’s a bit of chocolate in the corner of her mouth.

“You’re tall,” the girl remarks casually after looking him up and down, pinching her chestnut eyes as if he’s blinding her.

As perplexed as Dan is, the comment makes him chuckle. “Am I really?”

“Yeah… you’re like, taller than my daddy.”

The last word makes Dan’s heart pick up speed and he’s about to say, “I’m sorry, I must be in the wrong place,” when a voice drifts through the hallway, accompanied by the dulled noise of a blow-dryer.

“Who’s at the door, Liv?”

It can’t be Phil, Dan tells himself. This guy just sounds similar because the noise distorts his voice.

Phil doesn’t have any kids - right? The image of the beautiful blonde from Phil’s phone screen reappears in front of Dan’s inner eye and he draws in a sharp breath –

“A man in a leather jacket, Daddy,” the girl yells back. “He’s very tall,” she adds after a second, almost reproachfully.

There’s a moment of silence, then the noise of the hair-dryer stops abruptly and the man who sounds like Phil shouts, “I’ll be right there!”

The girl keeps her eyes trained on Dan, making him uneasy, so he lets his gaze drop away from her face. She’s holding a furled newspaper in her hand, Dan can just make out an advert proclaiming “Three for the price of one!” and underneath it a crossword, partly filled in with wonky letters.

Someone clears their throat and Dan looks up, feeling his heart take a leap.

The man facing him is wearing mismatched socks and his black hair is still wet and ruffled, but it’s unmistakably Phil.

His eyes are wide and he looks like he can’t quite decide whether to smile or not. He looks a little bit guilty, Dan thinks with a selfish trace of satisfaction, but the feeling fades when he remembers the elephant in the room – although elephant is perhaps too large a word.

“I’ll take it from here, Olivia, thank you,” Phil says to the girl and her eyes flicker from Dan to Phil and back before she turns and skips off into another room.

“Olivia,” Dan repeats, avoiding Phil’s eye until he hears the other man sigh.

“Yes, her name’s Olivia, and she’s my daughter, as you might already have guessed.”

I’d be concerned if other children than your own called you daddy, Dan thinks, but he doesn’t say it because this is not the time for a joke. It’s time for an explanation.

“So who’s Louise?” he asks at the same moment that Phil asks, “So what brings you here?”

They finally look at each other.

“Shall I go first?” Dan offers. “Right. Last night, when you, er, bailed on me – you lost something.”

He tries to sound casual but the guilt becomes more evident in Phil’s face for a moment until Dan pulls the wallet out of his pocket and holds it out to Phil, whose eyes grow comically wide.

“My wallet! Thanks, I hadn’t even noticed – oh man, I owe you -”

“An explanation? Yeah, I’d say so,” Dan says with newfound confidence.

Phil exhales. “You’re right. I have some explaining to do. - Oh god, I haven’t even asked you in yet, I’m the worst -”

He steps aside, holding the door open. “Please, make yourself at home. I know you’re probably less than elated by me right now, but I promise I can explain if you let me.”

Dan looks down at the threshold in front of him. The welcome mat he’s standing on has a pattern of sleeping cats on it. One small step for man, one giant step for Dan, he thinks dryly. If he steps into Phil’s house now and more than that, into his life, it will never be this easy to leave again.

For some reason, the image of the newspaper the girl was holding appears to him. If only life were as simple as a crossword puzzle, with only one right answer to every question.

“Tell me one more thing before I come in,” Dan asks. “Seven letter word, starting with M, or eight letters starting with D?”

Phil stares at him for a moment, then his smile falters as he gets the hint.

“Seven,” he says quietly.

Married, then – Dan thinks, a sick feeling rising in his stomach, and he’s about to turn away and leave for good, when Phil adds in an even smaller voice, “But the first one’s a W.”

-

Seven letters, starting with W. It’s just like a crossword, but it’s not an easy solution at all, and having solved it doesn’t make Dan feel any better, instead it makes him feel awful.

Widowed, he thinks, and bites down hard on his bottom lip. Widowed. Of course, that makes sense. It explains the careful pace at which Phil went about their blossoming relationship. It explains his inability to be spontaneous, and the fact that he didn’t want to talk much about his past.

Phil’s a widower, and he’s got a child, and Dan is so, so insensitive.

He looks up at Phil slowly, afraid of meeting his gaze. But Phil doesn’t look angry or as if he’s about to cry. His face is painfully composed.

“I’m sorry.”

“Me too,” Phil replies, and somehow that is all it takes for Dan to step inside and pull the door shut behind him.

He hands Phil the wallet, but instead of letting him pull his hand away, Phil holds on to it.

“Thank you,” he mutters and Dan gently presses his hand.

“Daddy, Micah keeps trying to take my pen!”

The bright voice from the right makes them both flinch, and Phil gives him a little smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “This way, please.”

The room to the right that they enter is the kitchen. Sunlight falls in through the windows and illuminates the large wooden table at which Olivia is sat, facing the door. The newspaper is spread out in front of her, opened to the kids’ page.

A small boy, a toddler at most, is squirming in his high chair, reaching out across the table for the pen Olivia is holding. As Olivia pulls it away from his grasp, he whimpers.

“Micah, hey!” Phil rushes towards them and takes the boy’s chubby little hand in his. “This is Livy’s pen, okay? Here, those crayons are for you. - And you, Liv – don’t be so harsh on him, you hear me? He doesn’t understand that it’s yours.”

He turns to Dan again, his face relaxing slowly. “Dan, these are my children, Olivia and Micah. Kids, this is Dan, who I was meeting up with last night.”

Dan smiles nervously as Olivia observes him, then she gives him a sudden toothy grin and turns back to her crossword.

“Here, take a seat please”, Phil says. “Do you want to drink anything? Coffee, tea?”

“Coffee would be lovely, if it’s not too much trouble,” Dan replies, sitting down on the wooden chair next to Olivia.

“Not at all.”

As Phil is busy with the coffee machine, Dan’s gaze drops to the table. Opposite of him, Micah is scrawling something undefinable with crayons. His hair is thick and darker than Olivia’s, his eyes azure and large in his round face. He seems to have trouble controlling his crayon, his small hand is clenched in a fist around it. Dan doesn’t have a lot of experience with young children, but Micah has to be at least two years old…

“I need a word with four letters for this flowery thing, daddy,” Olivia pipes up, catching Dan’s attention. “It’s not a tree, but plant and flower don’t fit.”

He peers at the crossword she’s working on. It has pictures in front of every line instead of questions.

“Give me a moment, Liv,” Phil says, rummaging in a cupboard for a mug.

“Have you tried rose?” Dan suggests charily.

Olivia looks up at him in surprise, then back at the paper. Her letters fit neatly in the boxes. “It works! Thanks, Dan.”

He smiles charily. “You’re welcome.”

Phil places the mug of coffee down in front of him before he sits down next to the high chair. Leaning on his elbows, he hides his face in hands for a moment.

When he emerges, he looks up at Dan. “So,” he says, clearing his throat. “You wanted to know about Louise.”

Dan, who’s about to take a sip from his coffee, puts the mug down, barely avoiding a spill of the scalding liquid.

“She’s a friend who occasionally takes care of my two rascals when I’m out. She was here last night and called to tell me Micah had banged his head. Turned out to be half as bad, but I tend to panic about my baby.” He reaches out to gently brush the hair back from Micah’s forehead, revealing a small reddened bump near his hairline.

The young boy reacts promptly. “Owie.”

A caring smile lingers on Phil’s lips. “Yes, you had an owie. Does it still hurt?”

“No more owie,” the toddler babbles, shaking his head.

“Good.”

Phil withdraws his hand, turning his attention back to Dan. His smile fades. “I’m sorry I left so abruptly, I overreacted. It’s just – Micah, he was in the car when…”

His voice trails off, but Dan’s fairly sure he can finish the sentence for himself. Phil must have lost his wife, the mother of his children, in a car accident.

Before Dan can think of what to say, Phil leans towards him across the table. “That’s why he’s a bit behind in development,” he adds in a low voice.

Dan glances at the toddler who’s clearly in his own world, scribbling away at the paper in front of him (and occasionally straying over the edges onto the wooden plate of his high chair). He tries to find something to say in reply, but quickly comes to the conclusion that there isn’t anything.

And Phil doesn’t seem to be expecting an answer. As Dan looks back at him, his eyes have gone out of focus, the iridescent blue glazed over with a hazy dolour that’s impossible for Dan to grasp. With a leap of his heart he reaches out one hand and places it on top of Phil’s that’s resting on the table.

Phil’s starts, blinking at him. He doesn’t smile, and yet there’s a glint that returns to his eyes as he becomes aware of Dan’s touch. When Dan dares to gently run his thumb over the back of his hand, he doesn’t flinch or pull back.

Silence settles into the room, not empty but filled with the sound of pencil scraping against paper and the strangely reassuring noise of an old house, alive with the creaking of wood and rattling of wind at its window panes.

The mug of coffee sits in front of Dan, gradually cooling down, forgotten in the moment.

-

It’s Micah who breaks the silence eventually.

“Daddy,” he says, and Phil startles, looking up and withdrawing his hand gently from Dan’s. “Yes, darling?”

But Dan observes with a hidden delight the faint flush of pink that’s settled on his cheekbones.

“Doggy,” is all Micah says in response, and Dan thinks he’s beginning to see what Phil meant earlier. Although children are more or less a novelty to him, surely a two-year-old would be able to form simple sentences?

He is torn out of his pondering by Phil’s voice. “Go on, take it.”

Dan looks up, finding that Micah is holding a sheet of paper out to him. There’s a bunch of brown crayon lines in one corner that vaguely form the shape of an animal, but that might be just interpretation because he knows what it’s supposed to be.

“For me?”

Micah nods, his blue eyes sparkling.

Dan smiles. “That’s… very kind of you, Micah. What a beautiful dog you’ve drawn there!” He takes the edge of the sheet between his fingertips; Micah lets go with a satisfied expression on his round face.

Phil reaches out to kiss the top of his son’s head. “Good boy, Micah.”

Dan looks down at the drawing, blinking, trying to conceal how touched he is. He really isn’t accustomed to children, doesn’t know how to behave around them, but his reaction to Micah’s drawing seems to have made the boy happy.

“Daddy, when are we leaving for London?” Olivia asks. She doesn’t seem to have noticed the change of atmosphere before, much to Dan’s relief. He has no idea how she feels about him getting to know her dad. Surely it can’t be easy after she’s lost her mother…

“Another two hours,” Phil says after a glance at his wristwatch. “Are you hungry yet? We can have lunch in a bit.”

Olivia nods, putting her pen away and folding up the newspaper. “I’m done with the crossword. Correct it for me, daddy, please?”

Phil smiles. “Of course, honey. Later, yeah? Though I’m sure there won’t be much to correct.” He takes the paper from her.

“You’re going to London today?” Dan asks.

“The therapist has her office in the city,” Phil replies, adding, “can we offer you a ride?” as if the thought has just occurred to him.

“Oh, thank you, but I came on my motorbike.”

“You’ve got a motorbike? That’s so cool! Daddy won’t let me get one,” Olivia pipes up.

Dan laughs. “Oh well, you see, motorbikes are very dangerous, so your father’s right about that. You’ve got to get a license so they’ll let you drive one. And for that license you’ve got to be of age.”

Olivia pushes out her lower lip. “That’s not fair. I’m so old already. Much older than Micah who’s just a baby.”

Phil, whose face has tightened up again, reaches out and strokes a strand of hair back behind her ear. “Patience, darling. Why don’t you draw a nice picture for the therapist before we leave? I’m sure she’d love that. And I’ll go have a chat with Dan – if you don’t mind?”

The last part is directed at Dan. He shakes his head, looking at Phil.

“I’m not in a hurry.”

-

He lets Phil lead him down a hallway framed with pictures. Some are drawings by Olivia, showing what is unmistakably the cottage, or a field of flowers – or a family, complete with a stick figure in a dress and long flowing hair.

The others are photographs.

Olivia in a nice dress with her schoolbag in hand and a wide grin on her first day of school. Micah lying in his crib, smiling up at the camera. The two of them playing in the snow together.

Phil reading to Micah who’s cuddled up to him. Phil braiding Olivia’s hair. Phil with his arms around the two of them.

Phil holding a newborn baby with flimsy hair and a reddened face, a younger Olivia leaning into the picture, curiously gazing at the small human. But they’re not the only ones on the picture – there’s a woman lying in the hospital bed behind Phil, her face out of focus, but the radiating smile still clearly visible.

There are more pictures of her. Ones of her baking biscuits with Olivia kneeling on the counter, stealing batter. Her rocking Micah in her arms, her mouth opened as if she’s singing a lullaby. The woman wearing a white dress and flowers in her hair, stood next to a beaming Phil in a suit. The two of them kissing.

Dan averts his gaze. He feels like an intruder.

“In here, please.” 

Taking a deep breath, Dan steps into the room.

It’s an office, complete with an old mahogany desk and shelves of books framing the walls instead of photographs as Dan notes with relief.

There are two armchairs near the window to which Phil guides him. They sit down, and Dan waits for Phil to speak, anxious suddenly about what he will have to say.

A moment of silence stretches at Phil looks around the room, letting his gaze wander as if he were the visitor.

“Okay, here’s the thing,” Phil begins with a sigh, looking at his hands. “I’m not an easy person to date. I’m not your average single person – I’m a package deal.”

The newspaper advert comes back to Dan’s mind and he mutters, “three for the price of one.”

Phil chuckles, but the smile doesn’t reach his eyes as he looks up. “You could say that, I guess… though the price might be higher I fear… You should know - in fact, you deserve to know, the truth. I’m a single father. I work around the clock. I get up at six. I cook, I clean, I comfort, I play, I sew, I fix. And at night when the kids are in bed, that’s when I find time for my actual job. I never have any free time except for when I get someone to watch my children, and I can’t do that very often, considering how far out in the country we live and…”

He breaks off, lowering his face into his hands. “I don’t like leaving them. I can’t be at ease when I don’t know exactly that they’re safe. I know they probably seem fine to you, but Olivia has nightmares and Micah rarely sleeps through. Sometimes he has crying fits that last for more than an hour. Liv has days when she’ll only speak to a photograph of her mum. Some days it’s almost alright. But it’s never easy and we’re not a perfect family. When I lost… when we lost Sophie, when she was brutally torn out of our lives by a careless driver -” his shoulders quiver as if in a quiet sob, and Dan holds back from reaching out and touching him.

“It was very hard for all of us. It’s been two years, and sometimes it still feels like there’s a hole we’ll never be able to fill completely. Once a month, I take the kids to a therapist in London. They stay there for an hour – meanwhile, I’ve got my own therapy session.”

He lifts his head slowly, keeping his gaze fixed on his hands as if they’re particularly interesting.

“I’m a man in therapy. I’m four years older than you, and I’ve got two children who demand a lot of care and attention. I barely make enough money to scratch along. I guess what I’m saying is… Dan, I really like you.”

That’s when Phil looks up to meet Dan’s eye. Dan sits transfixed, blinking in surprise. He didn’t expected that, not after the speech Phil’s just given.

The other man looks earnest, but his eyes are misty and his face contorted in regret.

“You must have noticed that I do. Talking to you over these past months has made me happier than I’ve been for a long time, and I’m so thankful for that. Meeting you last night was a dream. I’ll never forget it. I really do like you, Dan.”

Dan swallows hard at the repetition of the statement. His eyes have begun to sting. “Why do I sense a ‘but’ coming on?” he asks, willing his voice not to shake, willing his gaze not to stray from Phil’s sorrowful, beautiful face.

Phil takes a shivering breath. “I want nothing more than to get to know you. But I can’t leave my children, and I can’t have you come here and let them get used to you. They’ve already lost their mother. If we find we’re not meant to be, when we break up – they’ll get hurt. I can’t do that to them. I won’t let my children go through the pain of separation again, Dan. That’s why I have to say, I’m sorry. I like you, Dan, but I’m sorry, I can’t do this. And I know it’s not fair, and I probably shouldn’t even have agreed to meeting you, but I just -”

“Okay, Phil, hang on - ” Dan interrupts him, and Phil stops mid-sentence, his lips still parted. “What if we don’t?” he asks.

Phil’s staring at him. It’s so quiet Dan can hear him breathe. The moment feels extremely intimate and Dan wants to kiss the fear and worry off Phil’s face, but he remains where he is.

“If we don’t?” Phil repeats blankly.

Dan leans forward. “What if we don’t break up? Who’s to say it wouldn’t work out? What if we do, we click and we stay together…”

Phil’s eyes shut slowly, drawing ragged breaths.

“I mean, I guess I’d understand if you didn’t want to take the risk…,” Dan continues, but Phil cuts him off.

“Say I was willing to do so,” he replies, “would you want to bear with us? I’m in no way eager to send you away, but you’d have to be absolutely sure, Dan.”

He wants to say yes, but the word gets stuck in his throat. It’s not easy. It’s not as easy as he wants it to be. So he sits staring at Phil, mouth opened but no sound coming out, and Phil gives a sad little smile, not reproachful, but understanding.

Dan lifts his hand to prevent him from jumping to a conclusion.

“I’m going to need… time… to think about this,” Dan says slowly, looking Phil in the eyes as he speaks. “Because – I’m not sure if I’ve mentioned it – but I really like you, too.”

There it is again, that sparkle in Phil’s eyes, the one that makes Dan’s stomach churn and the back of his neck prickle.

This time, it’s Phil who reaches out to take Dan’s hand. “I can give you time,” he says, and then, after a moment of contemplation, he adds, “You know what? How about this. Olivia is currently obsessed with dressing up” - a small smile curls the corner of his mouth upwards - “so we’re having a little gathering on Halloween. PJ will be there, the kids’ godfather and incidentally also author of the book I’m currently editing, and Louise with her husband and daughter. If you want to come, you’d be welcome to do so. If you don’t…” The look he gives Dan is gentle, and so is his voice when he finishes the sentence. “… then we’ll know.”

It’s two weeks until Halloween. Dan’s fellow students have already begun talking about the parties they’re going to attend.

He presses Phil’s hand. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah.” He manages a small smile.

Phil smiles back, carefully, his eyes still not entirely free of pain.

“I believe,” he says then, very quietly, “there was something you wanted to do before my phone so rudely interrupted us last night.”

Dan’s eyes widen as realization hits him.

Phil’s face is close due to the fact that they’ve both leaned forward during their conversation, and his eyes are half-shut. There’s a tender smile still playing on his lips, and Dan’s eyes flicker down to them as he takes a shuddering breath.

Then, carefully, he closes the distance.

Phil’s hands move up to his cheeks. His lips feel warm and chapped against Dan’s, and he’s shivering ever so slightly, Dan feels it when his hands come to rest on Phil’s shoulders. He tastes like apples and cinnamon, as if he’s made of autumn spices.

The butterflies in Dan’s stomach are back, swirling like leaves in a thunderstorm. He tips his head to the side, deepening the kiss, drinking up Phil’s fear and sorrow, his sadness and his fondness, all of him.

The kiss doesn’t last for more than a few seconds, but it lingers in the air, tickles in their lips and their hearts after they part.

They stare into each other’s eyes for a moment, not saying anything because there’s nothing to say, yet there’s a sort of intuitive understanding between them that fills Dan with hope. Maybe they will be able to work this out. But he needs time to think. He’s only twenty-four, still a student – a family hasn’t really been on his agenda until now, much less one that’s already sort of complete in itself.

“I should probably go check on Micah and Liv, see if they’re hungry,” Phil says, still so close his breath brushes Dan’s face. Melancholy has already worked its way back into the creases of his forehead and Dan wants to wipe it away, but he knows that he can’t, not yet.

So he says, “And I should probably head back, look into some work for uni.”

“Well,” Phil pulls back and the moment is gone. “Thanks for bringing me my wallet -”

“Sure -”

“I’ll walk you out,” he stands, holding his hand out to Dan who grasps it.

“- and the kiss,” Dan adds, “I owed you that, too.”

His playful words manage to conjure up another one of Phil’s smiles, and he doesn’t let go of Dan’s hand until they’re at the front door. Outside, the wind has picked up, sending swirls of crimson leaves across the yard.

Dan and Phil stand facing each other, drawing out the moment of their parting. Finally, Phil averts his gaze and opens the door, and Dan zips up his leather jacket.

“I’m glad you came, Dan,” Phil says honestly.

“Yeah,” Dan replies, shivering slightly, though not from the rush of cold air.

“Me too.”

-

The last day of October is clear and bright, the sky a pearlescent grey. A strong breeze chases leaves across the country lane, making the trees sway and rustle. It’s cold, but this time Dan’s wearing a woolen jumper underneath his leather jacket, and anyway, he’s positively buzzing with a vibrant energy that warms him from the inside – and tickles him to push his foot down further on the accelerator, but he’s a responsible driver. He smiles to himself, feeling the wind and excitement drive him towards his destination.

When the cottage comes into sight behind the tree line, Dan’s smile grows wider. Two unfamiliar cars are parked outside the property on the side of the road, but he lets his motorcycle wheel past the post box and to a stop next to Phil’s car.

Taking off his helmet, Dan inhales the frigid, exhilarant autumn air. His pulse is throbbing both with adrenaline and anticipation. As he approaches the house, he picks up on snatches of cheerful conversation and hushed music that seep through cracked windows.

Two large pumpkins stand guard on the patio this time, their expressions hardly threatening. Dan feels like he must look somewhat like them – glowing with excitement, grin unalterably carved into his face.

Standing in front of the door, he takes a deep breath. He’s nervous, but not because he’s uncertain. He’s made up his mind, he’s decided to come here tonight for a reason. It’s just that it might be the biggest decision he’s ever made, and that does scare him quite a lot.

Okay, Dan. This is your last chance for turning back, he thinks, but instead he reaches out and rings the bell.

The sound seems to resonate in his chest.

A face appears briefly in the door window and with a squeal of excitement the door is wrenched open.

“Hi Dan!” says a cat the size of a young girl. She’s wearing an Alice band with cat ears on it and someone has painted crooked whiskers across her cheeks.

“Hi Olivia. Nice costume.”

Olivia grins. “Thanks! You too.”

He’s opted for a jumper with ghosts and pumpkins on it rather than a full-on disguise.

Stepping aside to let him pass, she adds, “Daddy’s in the kitchen.”

There’s a familiar twinkle in her eye that makes Dan wonder how much she knows, but he just smiles back and follows her inside.

As he closes the door behind himself, Olivia skips back down the hall to where the music is playing, but Dan remains where he is.

There’s a clanking of pots coming from his right. He swallows nervously, taking a final deep breath of courage before he steps into the kitchen.

Phil’s standing at the counter with his back turned to Dan, wearing a vampire’s cloak. His pale skin certainly fits the image, Dan thinks, feeling a grin tug on his lips.

For a moment he wonders how to announce his arrival, but then Phil turns around and flinches violently.

“Jesus, Dan!” he exclaims, blue eyes wide with shock, stumbling back against the counter. “You scared me!”

“Kind of the whole point of Halloween, isn’t it?” Dan asks, taking a few steps into the room. “Though I must say, your appearance is a lot scarier than mine.”

Phil’s face relaxes and he smiles, which entirely refutes Dan’s statement.

They stand facing each other for a moment, the realisation of what Dan’s presence means prickling like electricity in the air between them.

Then Dan clears his throat. “So, uh… Trick or treat?”

Phil laughs. “I’m afraid the treats are reserved for the children,” he says, biting his lower lip. His eyebrows are raised as if in a challenge.

“That’s too bad,” Dan’s about to say when Phil adds, “But I might have kept a special treat for you.”

They’ve gravitated towards each other almost subconsciously so that when Dan speaks again, he can see the sparkle in Phil’s eyes, the smudged red paint below his lip and even a few faded freckles that are dusted across his nose and cheeks.

“Oh? And what’s that?”

Phil’s gaze drops and Dan feels his heartbeat speed up again. Instead of replying, he slowly leans in. Licking his lips, Dan lets his eyelids flutter shut in expectation.

They snap open again a mere second later, accompanied by a gasp when he feels Phil’s hot breath fan his neck.

“Ph-phil, what are you -”

“Never trust a vampire, Dan,” Phil mutters, lips ghosting over a patch of skin, not quite touching it.

Instinctively, Dan’s hands have shot up to hold onto Phil’s shoulders. He moves them now, his breath hitching, heart thudding, to Phil’s face and tilts it gently upwards.

“You sneaky little shit,” he murmurs affectionately.

Phil’s grinning widely, his eyes scrunched up and lucid like the pumpkins outside.

“Now I have no choice but to trick you,” Dan continues quietly, “seeing as you wouldn’t give me,” he leans in closer, “my…” his mouth brushes Phil’s cheek, making his breath stutter. “…treat,” Dan completes the sentence against Phil’s lips.

They kiss slowly, unrushed, lips parting and reconnecting again in sync with their breaths. As if to prove his previous statement, Phil eventually takes Dan’s bottom lip between his teeth and nibbles on it gently, causing Dan to let out a small moan. They’re stood pressed together from head to toe now. He can feel Phil’s heart beat against his own and the gentle touch of his hands on the back of his neck.

When Phil begins to pull away, Dan whimpers in protest, holding on to him tighter, and Phil smiles against his lips, his fluttering eyelashes tickling Dan’s cheek.

“Happy Halloween, Dan,” he mumbles, winding his fingers into Dan’s hair.

“I’m glad you came.”

*** this used to be on my ao3 page (softiejace). i’m taking down my phan content for personal reasons but reposting it here so people can still enjoy it :) ***

[the-quiet-winds]

You are the One, I am the Two

“I’ll drive us home.”

“Already thinking about going home? We just got here!”

Anne laughs at her cousin’s excitement. “Nope,” she says, a cheeky smile on her face. “Just planning ahead.” She grabs the keys from Katherine and jams them in her pocket, before taking her hand and hurrying forward.

Katherine giggles and follows.

They had been to the zoo before, all of them, but a pop-up storm had forced them home early, and Katherine had been begging ever since to go back, but it never worked in their schedule.

Until today.

Jane and Aragon were having a quiet day at home to catch up on chores, Parr went to the bookshop, and Cleves wanted to catch up on some Netflix.

So Anne decided to take Katherine back to the zoo.

It was a lovely, cool day, and both girls had the excitement of children as they bought tickets and rushed in.

Katherine grabs a map from the stand by the door and tries to make sense of it. Anne can’t help but chuckle at the confused look on her face, and gently hip checks her. “It’s upside down, love.”

With a blush, Katherine turns the map over, and immediately takes off down the path to her right, leaving Anne struggling to catch up. 

“Where are we going?”

Katherine doesn’t answer, instead she’s meticulously folding up the map and sticking it in her back pocket, setting off towards a big brick building a bit of a ways down the path.

Finally, Anne is able to make out the slightly-faded words over the door. 

Monkey House

With a grin that Anne could see from a mile away, Katherine lets herself into the building and holds the door for Anne.

Inside are several glass enclosures, with several species of monkeys swinging and chewing wherever you turned.

Katherine rushes forward to the first enclosure, reading the entire information card printed in front of the habitat before looking at the monkeys inside.

Anne would find this to be a habit - Katherine absorbed any and all information about any single species of anything they encountered in the zoo. She found it incredibly endearing, although it did hinder their progress significantly.

“We should’ve brought Cathy,” Anne comments as they wander out of the reptile house a little over an hour later. “She and you would’ve gone nuts over all of the learning stuff.”

Katherine flushes, but only slightly. “You like it too,” she remarks quietly. “I know you do.”

Anne smirks. “Maybe, but I don’t have to admit that to you.” She nudges Katherine’s ribs gently with her elbow. “I think it’s time for lunch, you?”

They buy some food, just some snacks to share, and park themselves at a picnic table outside the cafeteria. Katherine digs into the popcorn as Anne takes a bite of nachos.

“Where to next?” Anne asks, mouth full of artificial cheese dip.

“I was thinking big cats?”

“Good, I did want to see a lion or tiger-”

“Or bear? Oh my!”

Anne throws a piece of popcorn at Katherine for that one. 

Once they’ve finished their food, they start off to the other end of the park, and Anne lights up at the sight of a sunbathing lioness.

“It’s like when we find Aragon napping on the couch,” Anne snickers once they reach the edge of the pen.

Katherine snorts.

By coincidence or not, it really does depend on one’s point of view, the lioness wakes up. She rolls back to her stomach and gives a long, languid stretch. 

In a few quick movements, it leaps down from the top rock and onto the grass that borders the enclosure. It keeps a watchful eye on every patron who crowds the edges of her home as she prowls along the grass.

She stops only once, directly in front of the cousins. Anne grins as the lioness moves closer, and she tries to wiggle her fingers through the tightly wound wire fencing to touch the creature, but she can’t get them all the way through.

The lioness stares at them with what could be considered inquisitivity. Like she’s contemplating something. Like she knows that they shouldn’t be alive anymore. 

“D’ya think she can smell our old blood?” Anne jokes softly.

Katherine laughs half-heartedly - blood isn’t her favorite topic.

“Sorry,” Anne says immediately, realizing her slip. “Shouldn’t have said that.”

“It’s okay,” Katherine promises. She takes Anne’s hand and gives it a soft squeeze. “I’m okay.”

The lioness takes one last look at them, and Anne would later swear it winked at them, before moving on down the line and ultimately diving into the water.

Katherine doesn’t let go of Anne’s hand as they begin to make their way back towards the entrance, stopping once for an ice cream (“It’s zoo rules,” Katherine had said), before heading to the car.

As she had said she would, Anne drives home.

She maneuvers with some difficulty, trying to eat her ice cream and steer, and Katherine can’t help her laughter from the passenger seat.

Finally they make it home, without any damage to the car, and Anne gets out first. When Katherine catches up, she’s smirking. 

“Mum’s gonna kill you,” she sing-songs as she passes into the house.

Confused, Anne turns back to the car. She didn’t hit anything on the way home, there wasn’t even bird poop on the car.

She turns back to look through the window, and smack dab in the middle of the seat, where her legs and been split just under the wheel, was a big, sticky glob of chocolate ice cream.

Yeah, Anne agrees, she’s dead.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

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[patron-saints]

golden

“it’s not jealousy. it’s not. i’ve never been jealous a day in my gods damned life. bitter, yes. absolutely. oh, i’ve regretted the decisions that i’ve made and the—fuck.” hera stops, looks at her reflection. it’s not worth it to defend herself. the audience will already have an image of her in their minds, anything she says is only going to reinforce that picture.

“we’re going to be late,” zeus says.

she storms down the hall, looks at her husband. he’s sitting on the chair closest to the door, wearing his best suit with his beard trimmed, almost like he gives a shit.

“i’m ready.”

he stands, offers her his arm, and she takes it, sighing. in a flash of light and smoke, they appear on a stage in new york city. the crowd goes wild. hera holds back her vomit.

“it is such an honor to be here, presenting the first ever production of…”

she can’t listen to this garbage. she’s going to have to sit through a whole performance of that heracles story again, watching her own actions portrayed through some ugly bitch of an actress, that zeus had handpicked and… oh. he’d fucked her as well. she’d bet her immortality on it.

“and thank you especially to my wonderful wife, without whom this story would be boring as hades! darling, do you have any words?”

hera smiles at the crowd. “enjoy the show! i love you all!”

light and smoke again and they’re in the vip box.

it’s tense as the lights go down. hera is starting to feel claustrophobic, and she still hasn’t quite gotten over her nausea from earlier.

“dearest, you’ve given speeches far better than that. on the battlefields at troy, you once said—”

“i don’t… actually care? isn’t that fascinating?” her hands are shaking. she stands, and finds her legs are shaking too. “i’m. done.”

he reaches for her, half-heartedly. “you’ll be back. you always come back.”

“oh, fuck you.” hera could take the gods’ way out, but that wouldn’t be as fun, would it? she walks out all on her own, down the steps, out through the middle of the audience, each whisper and cell phone fueling her steps.

she can picture the headline: has she left him for good?

she certainly hopes so.

her feet take her to a small cafe. she winces at the recognition in the barista’s eyes and sits in the corner.

they take her order right away, of course they do. the waiter looks scared.

“i don’t bite, love.”

“uh. your chocolate croissant and americano will be right out. uh. sorry.”

it’s pointless. she takes out her phone and as she types demeter’s name into the address line, she can feel herself beginning to tear up.

At a cafe. Not at the show. Check the news tomorrow I guess. <3 Do u need anything No. Yes. I don’t know. Send me where ur at You have shared your location with Demeter On my way

hera tosses her phone on the table and closes her eyes. she’s not going to cry. she’s done this too many times for tears.

“you’ll marry me.” he flips a golden ring to her as though he’s flipping a coin and she surprises herself by catching it.

she burns. her whole body is on fire with… she doesn’t know. with embarrassment, with horror, with some twisted form of passion she wants to scrape from her skin until she bleeds golden ichor all over her invaded bedroom.

she sits up, rearranging the sheets so they lie flat across her legs once more. she is his now.

hera twists the ring onto her finger with a soft sigh, and grants zeus a nod of agreement. there’s nothing left to say.

demeter appears in the other chair, and the air smells like autumn and cinnamon toast crunch. “sorry that took so long, my friend. i had to make a stop.” she reaches into her purse, and pulls out a beautiful shawl. “i saw this on the way here, i thought you’d like it.”

now hera really is crying. she takes the shawl and buries her face in it. “thank you,” she mumbles.

“you’re welcome. now you’re telling me, this is going to be on the news?”

“yes.” she unfurls the sash and wraps it around her shoulders like armor. “i… walked out in the middle of the theatre… i wanted it to be dramatic, i don’t know.”

“you’re such an attention whore.”

hera laughs. “comes with the job. you can’t tell me you’re not.”

her friend nods. “no, it’s true. no attention, no worship, then what’s the point?”

the waiter comes, sets the dish and the cup down. he looks back and forth between the two goddesses, and nearly runs away.

hera rips the croissant in half and slides the other half across the table.

demeter picks it up and gestures at her with it. “i’m really proud of you.”

“i’ve done this three times now. and you’ve said the same thing every time.”

“it’s true every time! doesn’t get any easier, does it?”

“no. and hey?”

“yes.”

“thank you, you know, for coming.” hera isn’t looking forward to testing the rule she’s already proven, but there’s no one she’d rather be with than demeter.

she nods. “you’re so welcome. and who knows, maybe it’ll be different... ”

“fat chance.”

“mm.” demeter takes a bite of the pastry and grins. “gods, i love the french.”

“i know.”

“they took what i gave them, and they—”

“made something so beautiful you want to cry whenever you take a bite, i know,” hera shakes her head. “i know you love croissants. but you also make that speech about the italians when you eat pasta, and the indians when you eat naan, and the mexicans when you have a really good burrito—”

“okay okay!” demeter holds up her hands. “i know. i’m just proud, alright?”

hera nods, her heart warming. “and i’m proud of you.”

“did he hurt you?” demeter’s voice is gentle as she pulls hera away from the crowd at her engagement party.

hera fidgets with the shining ring on her finger. “no, i simply changed my mind regarding his proposal.”

demeter takes her hands. “i will kill him.”

“there’s no need, i promise you.” she can feel shame coloring her cheeks, and she tries to push it down as far as she can, but demeter has already seen through her. she always does.

hera dips her croissant in her coffee and takes a bite. while she chews, she decides she might as well do what she came to. and so, she slides her wedding ring off her finger, and in that instant, her power is gone.

she flicks her fingers experimentally, checking with the faint hope that there might be some godly spark between them. there’s nothing.

“it’s gone.”

demeter reaches for her hand and takes it, her soft fingers running lines on the tops of hera’s knuckles. “i still refuse to believe that your marriage is the source of your power. i won’t fucking accept it.”

“i’m the goddess of marriage, dem.” it had been foolish to pretend that it would work. with the loss of her powers, all of her reasons for leaving feel paper thin. “i have to go back.”

“no, c’mon, you can’t.”

“how long will it take to start hurting? how long will i take to fade this time?”

demeter lets go of hera’s hand and hera feels a chill with her absence. “please don’t go.”

she stands up and pushes her chair in slowly. her gaze lingers on her friend. demeter, her heart shattering for hera once more, has never looked more beautiful. her eyes shimmer with tears, her lips tremble, and hera, despite wanting to tear her eyes away, finds she cannot.

demeter looks right back at hera. “i can’t stand that he hurts you, and… and though i have my own reasons for not wanting to see you with him, your safety is the most important thing.”

despite not looking away, hera barely processes what demeter’s said. her senses start to blur as as she tosses a few drachma on the table and heads for the door. every second she lingers, she can feel her life-force getting weaker. she’s already lost her magic, soon she’ll lose her existence.

“hera, if you could keep your divinity and truly leave him, would you do it?”

she turns to look, and shakes her head. “i don’t know.”

“alright.” demeter sighs. “i love you. go well.”

“love you, too.”

it’s been nine months since she’s spoken to demeter. if she’d been any other woman, hera’d have killed her for this. she simply couldn’t bring herself to hurt the only person who she’d truly cared about, and so she’d ignored her instead.

but now that persephone is nearly ready to come into the world, hera can’t stay away. “why?” she asks finally. “why… just, why?”

demeter bites her lip. “it was foolish,” she whispers. “i thought i could… entice him away from you. i thought i could protect you. but i was just another way for him to hurt you.”

“you’re a fool.” hera is not jealous. she only burns with anger at her husband, and hurts for demeter.

hera couldn’t have used the gods’ way home even if she wanted to, so she takes a lyft back to the house she shares with the king of the gods.

celebrity is inescapable. they’re followed by cars of paparazzi, and while her driver attempts to joke with her for a bit, it’s clear he’s uncomfortable. she apologizes to him as she gets out of the car, and pulls the shawl demeter gave her tighter as she walks up the steps.

when she walks in the door, zeus grins a shark’s grin, tells her that he knew she’d be back, and wraps his arms around her.

they’ve done this before. she knows when to smile, when to sigh, when to let a single tear streak down her chin. it’s different, though, this time.

the first time hera left her husband, she didn’t understand the rules. she stayed on demeter’s couch for three days, aphrodite’s for two, and hephaestus’s for four before she decided it was permanent and took off the ring. her powers disappeared right away, and then she got ill, and then her entire body began to shake with a fiery pain. putting the ring back on had no effect until she came home to her husband and gave herself to him once more.

the second time she was scared it would happen again but not too scared to try, and she decided after two days with artemis’s hunters that it was permanent and took off the ring. she returned after the illness but before the pain.

her return home, always so soaked with desperation, had both times been an occasion of unadulterated passion. she’d had conviction and fear and love and pure desire to see it work, to renew her marriage, to see her powers and health return.

this time it doesn’t feel as much like defeat.

zeus kisses her neck and she’s really only half there, enjoying the sensation but mentally elsewhere, planning out a fashion gala for next week, posing for a photoshoot, eating croissants at a cafe. it’s not as though it’s a horrid experience. it never has been, with him.

but it’s still hard to forget this is why she married him. thousands of years have gone by and hera still carries the memories and the shame from that night in a pocket of sorrow right by her heart.

after, without a word, zeus turns his back to her and falls asleep instantly.

his snores reverberate across the walls, around the room, shaking the frames and passing through hera’s chest. she’s still staring up at the ceiling.

hera picks up her wedding ring from where she’d left it on the bedside table. she slides the golden bands into place and flicks her fingers, waiting for that heavenly light to appear between them. she’s done her duty, she’s been a good wife, and so her divinity should be cascading back.

there’s still nothing. and the lack of it is starting to ache.

you’ve lost yourself. you were whole, once. do you not recall? your power was greater than that of your parents, and greater still than their parents.

i was young…

power only grows with age. and you have lived a very long time.

i think mine is diminishing.

it has not left you, daughter of rhea.

“last night i had a dream about a peacock,” hera says, and then realizes she’s addressing empty air. zeus is gone, though the impression of him is still clear in the wrinkles of the sheets.

it’s painfully clear what the peacock in the dream represents. it’s the only sacred animal she’s had since she was a girl, and has always been her avatar. she rolls her eyes and flops onto her back.

hera’s whole presence feels insubstantial, and now she’s slightly nauseous, too. it’s happening much faster, she’s worried she’ll be convulsing in a matter of hours.

she can’t get comfortable in any position so she sits up and swings her legs off the edge of the bed. she grits her teeth, drags her fingers along her scalp. there is nothing left for her to do except yell. the roar starts in her feet, building as it flies through her body, and by the time it reaches her throat it is loud enough to shake the very foundation of the house.

she’s tired of the pain that zeus has bestowed upon her. she’s tired of seeking refuge only to drown in another kind of torture, and she’s tired of coming home. all of this rockets out of her and it hurts. the longer she yells, the louder it gets, and the more her throat resists. but she is incapable of stopping.

it’s really burning her now, the same way the loss of power always does. she begins to shake. still, she yells louder. her hands glow hot, then her arms, and then all of her is illuminated and hurting and beautiful and angry and pulsating and golden and her blood is pounding in her ears and then suddenly, it stops. hera stops, the world stops, everything stops.

for an instant that feels like a century, reality is reduced to a blank square with the idea of a goddess held within it.

but the instant passes, and hera is sitting silent on the edge of her bed. she doesn’t need to flick her fingers to discern that her powers are back, because she is more powerful than she ever has been before.

with the tilt of her head, she summons her husband directly in front of her. collection spells only work on inanimate objects, sometimes humans with an extraordinary effort. but gods? never.

there’s fear in his eyes and he asks, “how are you capable of such an act?”

she smiles.

“my darling, your eyes have turned into gold.”

hera waves her fingers, as inconsequential a motion as brushing away dust, and reduces her husband to a pile of ash on their plush carpet. her grin widens.

her first act as a free goddess really could be anything. she could go to a museum, write a novel, or even redeem her reputation in the public eye and take her story to the press. all of those are tempting options, but there’s only one thing she wants to do. only one thing she’s choosing to do.

Hey Dem! Whats up Three things: Husband dead(?), powers back, and… And what What!! Just… come visit, okay?

demeter is there in no time at all. “hi.”

“hello.”

she glances at the ashes on the carpet, and looks back up at hera. “you are radiant.”

hera tentatively reaches out her hands and cups demeter’s face between them. her fingers are trembling.

demeter’s eyes close and she seems to melt, just a little, sinking down into hera’s palms.

“come here,” hera whispers, and draws her friend closer to her. she can still feel the fire rushing through her, fizzling and burning… but it doesn’t hurt, it just makes her want to start a row of kisses along demeter’s collar bone, travel up her neck, linger there just long enough to leave a mark and then—

“i’m here,” demeter answers, opening her eyes and looking into hera’s. what goes unsaid, what both of them know, is that she’s always been there.

thank you to @tanosoka for proof reading and @neutrinotempest for suggesting i post! <3 

[gweyson]

how much would u hate me if i asked u to do every single uncommon question for an oc of ur choice?

the absolute madman he actually did it

im gonna put this under the cut sdjkfhsdjfsjkl also im answering for pascal because. Thats My Boy

1. What’s the maximum amount of time your character can sit still with nothing to do?

he’s gotten really good at it since he had to start hiding from murder robots... but even before then he was never a super fidgety person so he could sit very still !

2. How easy is it for your character to laugh?

he’s good at pretending everything’s fine when it’s all actually Rather Shit so. yeah pretty easy

3. How do they put themselves to bed at night (reading, singing, thinking?)

thinking mostly.... sometimes he’ll talk to someone and drift off from there but it depends on who’s on lookout or how quiet the group has to stay

4. How easy is it to earn their trust?

he tries to remain suspicious of people he meets but at heart he’s too trusting for his own good tbh.... he does try to hold off on trusting stangers these days but hes still a little soft

5. How easy is it to earn their mistrust?

yeah pretty easy. like it’s easy enough to get him to trust you in the first place but once you do something to fuck that up then good luck getting it back lmao

6. Do they consider laws flexible, or immovable?

laws arent really. a thing anymore djkfhdljk but when they were he’d like... say laws are immovable and very needed and then do stuff that completely contradicted that view

7. What triggers nostalgia for them, most often? Do they enjoy that feeling?

cooking !! it reminds him of when he used to help his mum out with houseowrk/cooking. he. doesnt really like the feeling because it reminds him that he has no idea if his family is actually still alive or not :(

8. What were they told to stop/start doing most often as a child

“stop playing in the dirt”

9. Do they swear? Do they remember their first swear word?

he doesnt swear heaps but he does enough that it’s not super shocking whenever he does. he sweras more the angrier/more agitated he gets

10. What lie do they most frequently remember telling? Does it haunt them?

he’d regularly lie to his mum just so he could get out of the house and go to parties lol. he’s not super haunted by it or anything (& he was a pretty good kid otherwise so he figures he was allowed at least this one not great thing)

11. How do they cope with confusion (seek clarification, pretend they understand, etc)?

he’ll try to play along until he can figure stuff out but if he cant he’ll just go “what tf is happening”

12. How do they deal with an itch found in a place they can’t quite reach?

either gets someone to scratch it or uses like. a ruler or smth

13. What color do they think they look best in? Do they actually look best in that color?

he thinks he looks best in green but it’s... not his best colour

14. What animal do they fear most?

big dogs... scarey :(

15. How do they speak? Is what they say usually thought of on the spot, or do they rehearse it in their mind first?

he usually just says whatever comes to his mind tbh. idk how to properly descrive it but like... the way he talks makes him sound smart but not arrogant about it yknow. like you hear him talk and youre like “yeah this is a guy who knows what hes doing”

16. What makes their stomach turn?

not much tbh?? like before everything turned Awful he was studying forensic entomology so like. hes got a bit of an iron stomach lmao. the smell of rotting meat maybe

17. Are they easily embarrassed?

not really? if he does get embarrassed he’s pretty decent at hiding it

18. What embarrasses them?

when he’s the centre of attention in a big group and he can feel everyone staring at him and his face goes all red and aaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAA

19. What is their favorite number?

7 !!

20. If they were asked to explain the difference between romantic and platonic or familial love, how would they do so?

he’d go on a really long tangent about it and possibly not even answer the question at hand tbh

21. Why do they get up in the morning? 

to not die, mostly

22. How does jealousy manifest itself in them (they become possessive, they become aloof, etc)? 

he’ll become pretty aloof and just. not wanna talk. he’ll avoid the target of jealousy a bit as well oops

23. How does envy manifest itself in them (they take what they want, they become resentful, etc)? 

he’ll do everything in his power to one-up whatever’s making him envious. it rarely works

24. Is sex something that they’re comfortable speaking about? To whom? 

he is comfortable talking about it !! really the only thing that ever stops him talking about it is if someone else is uncomfortable with it

25. What are their thoughts on marriage? 

he likes the idea ! if he does get married though he wants to do it wayyyyy in the future he’s not ready to settle down

26. What is their preferred mode of transportation? 

before everything went shit he preferred driving, now he walks everywhere

27. What causes them to feel dread?

robots. or when astrid is pissed

28. Would they prefer a lie over an unpleasant truth? 

he says he’d prefer an unpleasant truth but when it actually comes time to deal with it he doesnt go too great lol

29. Do they usually live up to their own ideals? 

he tries... whether he succeeds is another question 

30. Who do they most regret meeting? 

[redacted for spoilers]

31. Who are they the most glad to have met? 

astrid !! as much as he loves everyine else in the group she’s the only one who could realistically protect him if something were to go wrong. shes just more secure

32. Do they have a go-to story in conversation? Or a joke? 

not really ??

33. Could they be considered lazy? 

nah not really !! he’s always been a hard worker

34. How hard is it for them to shake a sense of guilt? 

it follows him around for a loooooong time. whether it goes away or just fades into background noise really depends on the situation but it’s not easy for him

35. How do they treat the things their friends come to them excited about? Are they supportive? 

he always tries to be supportive !! unless it’s something like. morally disgusting then No but he tries to support his friends even if he thinks whateber theyre talking about is kinda dumb

36. Do they actively seek romance, or do they wait for it to fall into their lap? 

he just kinda waits it out !! when the world was Not Shit his friends would be regularly trying to set him up with people so he never had to work super hard for it :’)

37. Do they have a system for remembering names, long lists of numbers, things that need to go in a certain order (like anagrams, putting things to melodies, etc)? 

i cant remember the name for it but he does the thing where like. he’ll associate thing a with thing b by finding something that connects them togehter? like a syllable in thing a sounds like thing b so. yeah. im good at explaining

38. What memory do they revisit the most often? 

either when astrid helped him bust out of the factory he was trapped working in or just miscellaneous memories of his mum & siblings

39. How easy is it for them to ignore flaws in other people? 

he tends to ignore people’s flaws which can lead to issues

40. How sensitive are they to their own flaws?

he tries to be self critical but he’s not really self critical enough for it to make a solid difference. usually he has to be told what he’s doing before he consciously realises it

41. How do they feel about children? 

he likes them !! he was the oldest of a lot of siblings so he knows how to handle them & he’s pretty good with them

42. How badly do they want to reach their end goal?

his end goal is to stop robots killing everything & for everything to go back to normal so id say he wants that pretty fuckin bad

43. If someone asked them to explain their sexuality, how would they do so?

“hey pascal are you into--” “yes”

QUESTIONS FOR CREATORS (I wasnt sure if you wanted me to do these ones too so. shrug emoji)

A) Why are you excited about this character?

i made him for my comic which. i will start one day fdklgjdlkjgd..... also hes just fun to develop ! i gave him a bunch of traits i rlly like and also i made him like bugs a lot so. i am biased

B) What inspired you to create them?

uh. needed characters for the comic hehe.....i cant remember the exact process i went thru when making him?? i wanted someone who was close to astrid/who she could trust, plus i had the idea for a backstory (i think. like i said i cant remember my exact process)

C) Did you have trouble figuring out where they fit in their own story?

not really, i came up with the concept before i actually made his character

D) Have they always had the same physical appearance, or have you had to edit how they look?

he’s always had the same appearance !! even though i should probably change it a little because he looks different every time i try drawing him but shhhhh

E) Are they someone you would get along with? Would they get along with you?

hes someone i would think is super cool but then. would never actually talk to jkdsfhsdjkhfsdjk. he’d be nice to my face but i’m....not sure what he’d genuinely think of me oops

F) What do you feel when you think of your OC (pride, excitement, frustration, etc)?

THATS MY FACKING BOY BABEYEYYYYYYY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! also excited bc i have angst planned ^____^

G) What trait of theirs bothers you the most?

he’s too gullible and willing to trust strangers. he should know better but he’s too much of an optimist for his own good !!

H) What trait do you admire most?

he’s always able to put on a happy face when he’s feeling awful because he doesnt want anyone to worry & he doesnt wanna bring anyone down !! he’s always thinking ahout everyone else before himself

I) Do you prefer to keep them in their canon universe?

i dont know what this means..... yes??

J) Did you have to manipulate or exclude canon factors to allow them to create their character?

uhh technically not ?? in his original concept he was gonna be in a poly relationship with 2 others but i cut the other members of the relationship. not because of pascal it’s because i thought the group would get too big and like. they value stealth and sneakiness. plus it’s harder for big groups to travel undetected

[hehemylifestories]

Gosh Darn Breakup

 I know break ups are hard but dang, never knew they were that bad. It’s like you're lying there in pain and wanting to be with that person. But you can't, they're gone, they aren’t with you anymore. You yearn for them, yet they are the one you're crying about…

You know that feeling when you miss someone so much and you know that you will never see them again. More specifically see them the same way. That feeling when they were your everything and now they aren’t. That feeling when you both had plans for the future with each other and you know they won’t happen. Dates you had planned together for when they were going to come back over and see you. You got rid of them because you were both tired physically and mentally of the long distance. And the fact that he wouldn’t be able to concentrate and keep his scholarship, which means not achieving his goals. So you broke up with them in the hopes that they are more able to better themselves. Because u jus’ knew that u were the thing holding them back. And now that they are without you, you are proud of them for growing, but disappointed in the fact that you made the decision to not be there with them through their growth. But u don’t want them to see that you miss them. Not like they can anyways, they’re so far away. You miss everything about them. You miss their contagious smile, the random noises they make when they’re bored or stressed, the “flirty” wink, the little scars all over their legs from when they were younger, their smell, their fav food binge sessions at 2 in the morning not caring how loud they are, their baggy clothes, their ur mom jokes at the wrong moment. Their love for the game of basketball, their love to learn, how their eyes light up when they talk about becoming a doctor for NASA with you. You knowing the whole time you won’t make it with them. U miss their quirky things. Their tendency to walk and talk flawlessly all the time except for when they start skipping. Where they then have a tendency to trip and face plant or another time ( which is even funnier) when they can’t say a single word because they are so excited so it just comes out as a blur of words.

Long distance relationships sucks butt. You only get to see them so often, and when you do it’s only for a short amount of time. To top it off you have strict parents that don’t know about the relationship. So u have to act normal all the time, clear insta and iphone messages and calls clear emails and deliveries to u. U have to act okay when you miss them or something happens between you, when u get excited or think about them, u stomach down the emotions. Your love for them and excitement has to be kept a secret to all, even the closest of friends in the hopes that no one will know or find out and tell your parents.  Even more so, they won’t talk to you now because times are messed up and you broke their heart. His friends won’t answer you, his instagram page hasn’t been active for the last 2 months, his parents don’t even know about him cause they don’t care, his teachers haven’t seen him in their classes because of the corona, etc. You start to get worried, even though you aren’t together anymore you still worry about them. You still love them. That’s how you know a relationship was a healthy one. You both miss the shit outta each other and it feels like ur heart is dying when u break up with them.It kind of feels empty on the inside, like something was legit just ripped out. And no one else understands because most haven’t had that feeling before. But you know it’s going to be better for them if you seperate.

Moments I miss with them:

The late night talks

The date watching the stars in the random field/trees

Hide and go seek in Walmart

Buying each other random socks that were cool

 Riding around town with them with the windows down

Almost getting killed cuz he just had to move the hair out of ur face while driving 

Laughing so hard when u both pulled all-nighters for school work 

Testing each other’s knowledge in languages

 Random nicknames that sound cool in other languages but in all reality are words like chicken nugget

 Me being his “bishcotti” or some crap which supposedly meant chicken nugget in greek 

Their eyes when they look at you how they sparkled but at the same time u could sense the love coming from them. U could see the sorrow in them but how when they looked at u everything else faded away

Calling him rain checker cuz he took so many rain checks on ft calls cuz of him being tired from school work 

The deep stares you give each other meaning that you are each other’s worlds

 Knowing that life without them will be difficult 

Both eating our hearts content and not giving a fuck about what we might feel like afterwards

When u feel sick and they ft u the whole day through classes and everything to make sure that you are ok

writing a love letter and when he got nosy u ate the sheet of paper so he wouldn’t see... almost choking because he was tickling u to try and get it out of ur mouth from laughing

Only fighting once and that was on the day of the break up

 Not fighting because you understood that fighting is dangerous, so instead if you get mad u talk about it and work it out 

Learning to love ourselves more and grow stronger with each other 

His laugh when he was tired

 How his accent changed from a deep southern accent to a thick greek boi accent

Having thick offs at 3 in the morning

 Pulling all nighters to talk to each other 

Discussing things that hurt us in the past and how our kids won’t have the same thing 

Knowing that his parents hated him and having to mom him every now and then

Complimenting him on looking good and handsome because he did, but more so he needed that confirmation 

Wearing his clothes while he was away

Having him send my things and his hoodies over to his friends and having them give them to me so that we wouldn’t get caught 

Loving each other with everything we had 

Knowing that we had been through friends deaths together, seen too many things then we should have and continuing to push through

 Both having to deal with mental disorders because of shit we’d been through in the past 

Days where we would go out looking like hot trash together

 Doing modeling shoots together 

Playing basketball at random gyms to see who was better

Debating on who was better at playing basketball, who was smarter, who looked better in what

 Wearing a sports bra and him strangling u to put on his hoodie because “he couldn’t take me in just a sports bra and spandex” 

Not wanting each other for sex 

Wanting each other for the relationship, for love, to put the best in each other’s lives 

Growing in every aspect of our lives

 Style changing from hoe to bro

 Finding who each other looked like P

LAYING/DANCING IN THE RAIN 

The night where I got stuck i the mud and couldn’t get out, and you stood there laughing your tushee off instead of helping 

Making jokes about that night for forever 

Him ordering food in the drive through and us changing seats and him moving to the back to see what their reaction is 

Laughing our butts off when we go people watching

 Learning that love is a choice and u have to keep pushing for more because you become addicted 

Corny pickup lines 

Corny nicknames only when we are around each other and no one else 

Loving the little mistakes the other one makes because they remind us that they are human too every now and then

Him wearing your hoodie and it looking better on him than you

 Him stretching your favorite shirt and buying you another one because he felt bad 

When he got drunk the night after his parents hurt him so u had to take him to one of his friends houses and stayed the whole night with him to make sure he was ok and didn’t have nightmares. He also drunkingly kissed you without paying attention and said i love you so purely. Then saying “shit, that was too early in the relationship wasn’t it.” Him not remembering a single thing in the morning except for what his parents did to him, and waking up next to you shaking 

u waking up to him shaking and rubbing his back and talking to him, telling him that everything was going to be okay 

How he always slept with a knife in his hand and when u tried to move it he gripped it tighter, so u had to talk to him and tell him it was you and he would slowly lose his grip

Waking up in his arms after a nap and not wanting it to end 

Debating which dessert was more delicious 

Baking together and making huge messes

Icing getting all over each other’s faces and just kissing it off

Trying to bake cool stuff and failing gloriously 

Going to random stores and trying on clothes and acting how models aren’t supposed to

 Risking getting arrested over stupid stuff

Climbing those electric eiffel towers and watching the sunset/sunrise  

Falling off of things because u were goofing off 

Trying to sing to a song because i love it and u just sitting there admiring my “talent”

Dressing up like i’m going to one of my model shoots so that you can show me off to ur toxic friends and mean exs 

Wrapping ourselves up like tortillas with blankets and wobbling to the bed and flopping on and laughing because we look so stupid 

Watching the stars and talking about our goals in life 

Talking about weird dreams we had and what they might mean

Talking about how God puts us in certain situations and loving how He gave us each other

Sleeping with each other’s fav stuffed animals

Play fighting in public and we both ended up on the floor laughing 

Playing basketball with each other and u bear hugging me so i can’t score

When we played basketball that one day and i scored in your face, and started to leave but u said “hey come here”, and u pulled me in hugged me and said “i’m gonna miss you too” hugged me tighter i looked up and u kissed me on my forehead then u said “i love you” 

afterwards we texted the whole night

Not being able to drop u off at the airport or say goodbye because life happened and u calling me the whole time and telling me it was going to be ok

Sweet talking to me in greek 

Learning french together because ur both such nerds

Both of us having glasses because we stayed up too late as kids to read books in the dark

 Doing morning devotionals together 

Managing school work and life together

Discussing plans for each other’s week, who was staying in better shape, etc. 

Talking about how each other were doing and answering honestly

Asking for advice on how to keep going when life got rough 

Him cussing out old teammates because he would get so mad.. Like jus to me not to them 

Never going on a roller skating date because we both didn’t want to get hurt or have to pay for the trip to the ERRRRRR

Never going on local dates so no one would see us and recognize who we are 

Getting a pet fish together and taking care of it, naming him bob and bob was too well taken care of; both of us crying when bob ross da fish died

Having a mini funeral for bob

 Watching romantic movies for comedy because they are so pathetic 

Laughing at how pathetic sex was in movies and what we would do if we actually did it 

Playing strip or dare

Him trying to teach me how to do my hair and makeup 

Him laughing at me for being such a tom boi and not having any idea how to dress up 

Picking out outfits for each other

 Trusting each other to be around the opposite gender and not having to worry 

Allowing the other to have girl best friends and not care because he was loyal like that

TRUST

Praying together 

Only three of his friends knowing about me, and telling me how much he thinks about me and what he thinks of me

 Learning how much he’s sacrificed to reach his goal 

His friends calling me after we broke up and telling me how much he missed me, me explaining to them that I was what was holding him back. Them disagreeing and telling me that i was what kept him alive most nights when his depression got bad 

Learning how to calculate the time distance and waking up at 2 in the morning so that we could talk. 

Giving up so much time to talk with each other about EVERYTHING, every lil’ thing from what we ate that day to how our breath changed just slightly in math 

Him making fun of me for not being able to understand simple math because i over thought it like usual 

Helping me with basic high school stuff, and how to get an easy A his way

Climbing random things

Running through random parking lots 

Running together

 Getting high off of dopamine and endorphins and saying the stupidest things and laughing… then later making inside jokes off of how high we were 

Hitting the wall as they say after running for so long, and just sitting there laughing in the middle of this neighborhoods road 

Making christmas cookies together and having to make a whole new batch because we ate all the cookie dough

Icing the cookies and getting icing all over each other and the kitchen.. 

Wiping it off by hosing him with the kitchen sink sprayer. His reaction being to take his hoodie & shirt off saying “dang, u could’ve just asked me to take it off.”

Him grabbing me and just holding on tight 

The long lasting hugs after not seeing each other for long periods of time When I was sick and him coming to school to see the “bros” but in all reality coming to see me

When i fell asleep scared after THAT night, him taking his hands through my hair telling me he would always be there for me, him getting ice and trying to help the bruise go away, staying the whole night w/ me and reading stories to me until I went back to sleep. Waking up shaking and him talking softly and rubbing my arms until I calmed down. Making me dinner because I hadn’t eaten that whole week to make sure my brother had enough food for lunch. Making me eat. Helping me calm down everytime I started crying cuz of the stuff that happened. 

After THAT night, he always checked in on me when he heard I was acting funny. If he ever saw me flinch at a sudden  movement he would apologize and help me calm down.

 HE HELPED ME COPE W/ MY ANXIETY & DEPRESSION

If he ever noticed a bruise he would persist to ask where it came from 

Growing over my fear of swimming with him lovingly forcing me to swim with him at first in his arms going slow then eventually to where i went on my own