#going through my dad's things is kind of terrible right now so I'll take whatever happiness I can get out of dffoo

[cousmemes]

dialogue starters from DOCTOR WHO SEASON 8. feel free to edit for context / continues under the cut.

"I'll wager you've not seen anything like this before."

"Listen to me. You need to calm down."

"I'm not flirting, by the way."

"What have I done wrong?"

"Are you judging me?"

"Just because my pretty face has turned your head, do not assume that I am so easily distracted."

"Whatever it takes, I will keep you safe. You will be at home again."

"I'm cold. There's no point in us both being cold. Give me your coat."

"Are you cross with me?"

"You were talking about me?"

"What is happening right now to you and me is more important than your egomania."

"Nothing is more important than my egomania."

"You've redecorated. I don't like it."

"You can't see me, can you? You look at me, and you can't see me. Have you any idea what that's like?"

"I was being funny. I just do that."

"How long have you been there?"

"Are you going to look that terrified when you take me out for a drink?"

"You were smiling at nothing. I'd almost say you were in love."

"I need you."

"An anti-climax once in a while is good for my heart."

"We cannot waste this chance. It won't come again."

"Isn't the universe beautiful?"

"I think you're probably nice. Underneath it all, I think you're kind and you're definitely brave. I just wish you hadn't been a soldier."

"I don't know if you're a good man. But I think you try to be and I think that's probably the point."

"Old-fashioned heroes only exist in old-fashioned storybooks."

"Do people ever punch you in the face when you do that?"

"Well then, draw your sword and prove your words."

"People are so much better at sharing information if they think the other person has already got it."

"Right, you do that again and you'll regret that."

"We can't just let them kill him!"

"She should not have told you any of that."

"Perhaps others will be heroes in our name. Perhaps we will both be stories. And may those stories never end."

"I wasn't making assumptions about you."

"You just have to squeeze through."

"How did you get in?"

"You know, you should have more than one chair. What do you do when people come round?"

"The deep and lovely dark. We'd never see the stars without it."

"I mouth off when I'm nervous and I've got a mouth on me. Seriously, it's got a mind of its own."

"Tell me the truth - because I know when people are lying to me."

"I am not going to leave you in danger!"

"Sorry, who put you in charge?"

"However this goes, whatever happens, don't let me end up like that."

"They have no power over you now. You can do exactly what you want to do now. Exactly what you've always wanted to do."

"Go and enjoy yourself. Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

"There's no way out of this. We're going to die here."

"Why are you being nice?"

"Every time I see you, it's like you're in a rush."

"The next few days are all about you. I promise."

"Human beings have incredibly short life spans. Frankly, you should all be in a permanent state of panic."

"How can you think that I'm her dad when we both look exactly the same age?"

"He's my boyfriend. I thought you'd figured this out."

"Why wouldn't I be okay? I was fine till you blundered in."

"It's funny, you only really know what someone thinks of you when you know what lies they've told you."

"Please, tell me how I fix this."

"I'm bored. Let's go somewhere fun. What do you say?"

"I know men like him. I've served under them. They push you and make you stronger, till you're doing things you never thought you could."

"Is there some sort of fancy dress thing on this evening?"

"I am so sorry. I've had a wobble. It's a big wobble, but it's fine. Forget about it."

"Where are you and are you in trouble?"

"Lying is a vital survival skill. And a terrible habit."

"Do you want the good news or the bad news?"

"We're in the bad news! I'm living the bad news!"

"Why can't you just say it? Why can't you just say I did good?"

"You are enjoying this just a little bit too much."

"Don't make me say it."

"I don't want to be the last of my kind."

"I don't want to see more things. I want to see the things in front of me more clearly."

"I just want to know the truth. I don't care what it is. I just want to know it."

"Shut up, shut up, shut up. I need to talk to you."

"Oh, everything is better when you're here."

"Please speak to me. This is - this is killing me.

"I love you. And you are the last person who's ever going to hear me say that."

"By now, I'm sure you've heard the rumours, and it is with great sadness that I must confirm them to be true."

"He was alive, and then he was dead and it was nothing."

"Don't. Be very, very careful with that."

"I know what you're doing. You're trying to take control."

"I am in control. Do as you are told."

"I was curious about how far you would go."

"You betrayed me. Betrayed my trust, you betrayed our friendship, you betrayed everything that I've ever stood for."

"Do you think I care for you so little that betraying me would make a difference?"

"Speak for me again, I'll detach something from you."

"This isn't possible. The dead don't come back."

"Be strong, even if it breaks your heart."

"Say something only you could say. Tell me something only you would know."

"Whatever it takes, I will be with you again, I swear."

"So you know who I am, right?"

"Look, are you going to help me? Because I can't do this alone."

"And didn't all of those beautiful speeches just disappear in the face of a tactical advantage?"

"I wasn't very good at it, but I did love you."

"There's something that I have to tell you and, er, it's not good news so just - just listen, okay?"

"Never trust a hug. It's just a way to hide your face."

"Thank you for making me feel special."

[nukenai]

Something very weird happened on Sunday. Talk of animal death... as usual lately.

It was what felt like the first real day after losing Zero. The past 30 or so hours had been a complete nightmare. I was in bed just scrolling on my phone on facebook.

I saw a post in my local horse group about something. I saw posts about that kind of thing a lot, but this time I just sorta went. Huh.

Then my dad called to check on me again. He had called me a lot in that short time. We were chatting, he just wanted to know how I was hanging in there and if I could do anything.

Then he asked me what I was planning. If I knew if I was going to get another dog. He told me he knows Samoyeds aren't cheap, and even sheepishly said if I wanted to get another one, that he could help me out.

I'd been thinking about it for a while. The conclusion I came to was... well, of course I wanted to get another dog. I'd been preparing my house for a puppy since february. I have a house full of puppy supplies. But, I don't want another Samoyed right now. First of all the cost, which wasn't really something I discussed with the breeder because refunds are just not... usually a thing, you know, and it's a rough topic to bring up because she's very upset too (she spent 9 weeks with those puppies, literally raised them from birth... so yeah). But, I'm not prepared to spend that amount a second time right now. Maybe sometime in the future, maybe after Striker passes, I'll want a Samoyed again. But I think it would maybe cause a bit too much pain to have one so soon.

But not just another dog in general. People get very judgmental about grief... I understand that people want to say, "don't rush into anything" after something happens. But I feel like that makes more sense when you, say, lose an older dog to age or illness. Because maybe getting a brand new dog after spending so much time with your one dog would be very hard on your soul.

But I went through the loss of a puppy. Of course I was attached to Zero, and loved him with all my heart and soul for the just-under-a-week I had him. But it's different. I had spent so much time preparing, and now there's just this terrible void where all my efforts had been.

And, well. I do stupid things in my life. Sometimes things don't work out. But there's always a way to remedy the situation. Say I got a dog but it wound up making everything so much worse. I'd either contact that person I got him from, or find someone else to take him. Whatever. Life will work out. It is literally never the end of the world to like, get a dog when you're slightly underprepared. There would be another home for him.

The post I saw on facebook was for a corgi puppy. Corgis are not really dogs I actively considered. Of course they're cute as fuck, but I kept telling myself, "no more herding breeds" on principle from how difficult Striker has been. But the ad was for ONE corgi puppy. Just one. Not a whole litter.

I thought, at the very least, it couldn't possibly hurt just to reach out and see what's up. See how much he was, that sort of thing.

So I get on the phone with this woman. She sold a litter of puppies for friends of hers with purebred corgis who bred them. The price was... honestly, astonishing, and felt like a red flag, because she only wanted $425 for him. I asked her, politely, why. Her response was: "I'm doing what they told me to. They sell their dogs only as pets, and they think it's ridiculous to charge upwards of $2,000 for a dog that isn't going into a show ring. Doesn't matter if they have show lines, the majority of people just want a companion. So I'm doing what they say."

I found that... admirable, honestly. So I asked why just he was available.

He was supposed to be picked up that morning. A woman had claimed him a couple weeks ago, the whole litter had sold instantly. But that morning, the woman's horse suddenly colicked and died, out of nowhere. She was devastated and said she wanted to hold off on a puppy for now.

I was so shocked. What a weekend of horrible tragedies. I'm not really a superstitious person, but that just felt so odd that this one puppy would become available, and I would see the post right as I'm scrolling facebook, and it was because someone else tragically lost a beloved pet.

He wasn't that far away, a 45 minute drive. So I thought, well, it can't hurt to go see him.

I had told the woman what happened with Zero. She offered such condolences and assured me it was a freak accident. I told her I was worried about judgment if I got another dog. She told me, "You can't worry about other people. You have to do what's right for you."

We exchanged stories about animal tragedies. Her husband's horse dropped dead when they ran out to Tractor Supply for 20 minutes. A friend of hers accidentally kicked their new puppy who was hidden in a dark hallway, because she walked with a limp, and the dog was killed instantly.

Horrible, freak things happen. Sometimes it's our fault, sometimes not, but we didn't MEAN for them to happen. Maybe they could've been prevented. Maybe not. Literally all we can do is keep moving forward in our lives, the way that feels right. Sometimes the universe turns in cruel, awful ways. But it'll keep turning, so it's up to you whether you look backwards or forwards.

This woman also had had corgis, she told me only recently she had to put her old female down due to cancer. She sang their praises.

I know this post is 40,000 words long but. i've been through a lot you have to be fucking nice to me. The culmination of it all is that yeah, I took him home. If he had been much more expensive than that, I wouldn't have.

Sometimes weird shit happens. Maybe it's a "sign", maybe not. But I do know that I went from staring at an empty dog crate full of un-played with toys stuffed into the corner of my office, to watching those toys be played with again, and getting up in the morning to open the crate door to let a dog outside.

The little one doesn't have a name yet, and this is technically the fourth day I've had him. It's pretty hard, but I know I'll get there. There's no rush, he has no idea what's going on right now anyways. I do feel like I made the right decision for myself, and I don't need to listen to any judgment. No one has been anything but kind, loving, and sympathetic to me, so I have no reason to think I'd have people being nasty behind my back. I guess I'm just traumatized from the 2 times people were weird to me about having a horse!

Anyways. Check out this little man. Whatever his name will be...

[uncanny-tranny]

To start off this ask, I hope you're having a great day <3 Thank you for all the positivity your posts bring to my life.

This is a kind of serious ask, but I don't really have anyone in my life who is reliable enough to talk about this with. Recently, I've seen a lot of news articles about harmful trans clinics. The UK shutting down clinics for trans youth, negative effects of hormones for trans people, etc.

This website I found today is what really sparked this ask: https://www.thefp.com/p/i-thought-i-was-saving-trans-kids

I'm very confused and conflicted. I am trans-masculine. I don't know what to trust. And honestly, I'm scared. I don't know if there's something wrong with my body or mind. I once was excited for top surgery but now I'm worried about making a mistake. I'm worried about how my body will be handled by medical professionals.

My parents keep telling me these terrible stories of people who have detransitioned and have "ruined their lives," but I also know of so many trans people who live wonderful lives and are accepted and loved. I so desperately want that love and acceptance, but now I'm terrified that maybe my life will be "ruined," if I truly am just "being swayed by a cultural agenda."

I was hoping you might be willing to provide some insight.

I'll be real, I've had that same worry before, which didn't help because when I first came out, I was bombarded by stories about the same situation - notably, my dad sharing these concerns of his through stories about a trans soldier he knew personally.

I find that the whole fear surrounding "ruining bodies" and "horrid outcomes" don't place the ultimate authority on the trans people we're talking about. I've found that when people talk about "mutilated bodies", it is from the viewpoint that medical intervention is inherently going to transform a person from being natural (and the worthiness that comes with it) to being undesirable and freakish.

Transition isn't a destination, it is a journey, I think. The scaremongering about detransition is capitalizing on the fear that your body will become a sight of horror rather than a body that belongs to a person. Though detransition rates are low, and transition (including medical transition) has some of the lowest regret rates of other care (hell, knee replacement has higher regret rates), people who have detransitioned are still just as worthy as literally anybody else. Capitalizing on the exaggerated fear of transition and detransition hurts trans people and those who detransition.

There isn't anything wrong with you, anon. You have concerns, and that's completely natural. It is natural to feel the ways you are feeling, and I don't want for one minute to make you feel like you're bad for feeling the ways you do. However, I do caution you to still take into account the fact that you do deserve happiness. If medical transition is something you've looked into, you deserve that option. I can only speak from personal experience, but medical transition has been the best choice I made for myself. There is always the possibility that things turn out in your favour. There is always the possibility of happiness. No matter what you decide to do, you deserve respect and gentleness and the space to exist without expecting to be "perfect" or "right" about every last thing. I hope you can pursue the happiness, whatever that looks like

[walkingstackofbooks]

Just realised I missed this one out seemingly 😅

DS9 2x12 The Alternate thoughts (I'm rewatching, so possible future spilers)

Quark and Odo's, uh, thing, is so obvious, whatever it is that they have

"You're serious?" "Have you ever known me know to be?"

The switch and bait, I knew there had to be an ulterior motive - yes, Odo, excellently played XD

Ughhh, Mora. He's half treating Odo like a child, half still like an experiment - "Haven't quite managed the ears yet", "Is the suit a suit, or part of you?" - really horrible intrusive questions, aren't they?

Just noticed that Odo's hair is modelled after Mora's...

Mora, Odo KNOWS this station, he KNOWS Quark's motives better than you. As do we - Quark was DEFINITELY hoping this would be a distraction to Odo.

"I integrate as much as I want to", and quite right too

"Tell me about this police thing..." "I enjoy my work as Chief of Security." STOP DOWNPLAYING HIS ACHIEVEMENTS

Oh my goodness, I can't stand him, I genuinely hate him. He's so clearly manipulative and abusive, gah.

As always, Jake and Sisko are wonderful. I'm with you on Klingon opera, Jake. I love how terribly Sisko is justifying why Jake should have to learn it.

"Just because you suffered through all that doesn't mean I have to." "Yes, it does." This reminds me of his conversation with Bashir in Forsaken about the ambassadors - "So now you take the same perverse pleasure in doing it to me" - man, Sisko definitely is consistent XD

I actually can't remember how this episode goes, they definitely don't find the changelings...

Mora bringing up a story Odo doesn't like, directing him to "Tell her", and when Odo does interrupting like he's a child is not how you treat people you love! Or at least it could be in friendly banter but this isn't! It's infantilising and patronising

Jadzia had such a tight, polite face - good for her not showing too much interest once she realises how uncomfortable Odo is.

Oh! Is this the hologram one?!

Lol, that "lifeform" is just those whaddya-call-them metal things you use in primary school with magnets. Iron filings! That's the one.

Okay, so not the hologram one, then...

I've often thought Odo and Julian have a lot in common: I hadn't added complicated parent relationships to that thought but now I kinda want to see Odo being able to talk to Julian about his complicated feelings and having someone who actually understands listen

Sisko again forgetting not everyone has a good dad... It must be nice to be Sisko

Well, I guessed that the being wasn't going to stay there as soon as Miles said "level five security" - if it's highly secure there's gonna be a breakout, right?

Jadzia! I thought she was benched for this episode, but yay, she's back!

"Doctor Bashir wouldn't listen to me and hid my clothes so I wouldn't leave." I love her to PIECES, and I DO like their friendship

Sisko just being like "yeah get to work" XD It's good enough for him that Jadzia managed to escape Julian

"I'm moving in closer. If you run into my wife, don't mention I did this." Oh Miles, that is not healthy communication.

"I'll come home tonight and she'll ask me how my day was and I'll say, fine, honey, how was yours? Sometimes I think she really doesn't want to know the truth, so I do us both a favour and..." Oh Miles, THAT IS NOT HEALTHY COMMUNICATION

Come on Jadzia, you knew how he'd respond to that suggestion.

She did it with such a straight face I'm genuinely not sure if she was goading him or if he's just imagining that

Ughhh that interaction was kind of fine until this monologue tho :( The flirting is fine since they're both fine with it - but why the writers gotta make Bashir so creepy

He's about to be got!

Ooh, no, he got away :D

Even if you WERE right Mora, telling Odo what he thinks is not the way to go!

Yeaaaa, Odo and Bashir sure could have a lot to talk about wrt parental figures who are proud because they see their sons as their achievements, and not proud for their sons' sakes

Mora, talking like that behind someone's back is never a good move. Man, Jadzia is so uncomfortable

No, Mora, Dr Bashir would try to understand!

SHUT UP MORA, THE CREW WOULD NEVER

Fuck you, Mora, turning him against his friends.

I do get that Mora is genuinely worried and concerned for Odo, but he's just bad and incapable of doing anything well

Just because you "gave him more than anyone else in your life" DOESN'T mean he owes you A THING - that is the first step of parenting

Oh I DO remember this episode now XD eventually got there

And now Mora is trusting the crew? Has he finally realised he can't go it alone? Or has he resigned to them "putting Odo in a zoo".

"If maximum stun doesn't bring him down immediately, we set phasers to kill." "Commander." "I know, Major." Oof, that cannot have been an easy order to give.

Self awareness! Finally! Bit late, but we can work with that!

"I prescribe rest because it's hard for a doctor to go wrong with that one." 👍

Odo has never been my favourite character, but I do like him, and this episode is just so heart-breaking. And infuriating. Go away, Mora, forever please.

[ajora]

Ultimate wife finally gets her EX+ weapon :3. I purpled her immediately. Still trying to get Faris’ EX+.

Also, I’m really tempted to get her alt sprite because it’s Lenna.

[wowbright]

Fic: Love Surprises

Klaine Spring Fling: decision

Words: ~2500 words

Rating: Teen and up

Summary: Blaine gets personal. Plus, a letter from Tina.

This is part of my Mormon!Klaine universe. It takes place directly after Take a Bite of My Heart, which I posted earlier today (May 16, 2022).

My Mormon!Klaine Masterpost. (More recent posts are in bold.)

_____

The laundromat was within walking distance. The wheels of their laundry-stuffed suitcases click-clacked along the sidewalk, but on the linoleum floor of the laundromat, the sound was smooth as butter. The room smelled like fabric softener and coffee—there was a little café through an open archway on the right that catered to both laundromat and street traffic. Kurt saw a couple people sipping espressos in orange IKEA chairs, but there was no one else doing laundry. Things were usually pretty quiet at this time of day, which was good, because that gave Kurt the pick of the laundry machines. And he had way too many sheets to wash. Too many wet dreams lately. 

Whatever apostle had said that wet dreams were an efficient outlet for the excess secretions of the body had clearly not been in charge of doing his own laundry.

“You take such good care of your things,” Blaine said as Kurt pressed the start button on his final washing machine.

“That's a weird compliment.” Kurt pulled himself onto the folding table next to Blaine. "If it was a compliment?”

“Of course. All missionaries should at least separate their whites from their darks, but a surprising number don't. And you go beyond that. You actually pay attention to what should be washed in cold water and what should be washed in hot. And you never overstuff the machines.”

“Overstuffing the machines is a capital offense in Germany.”

“No, it's not. They don't have the death penalty. Take credit where credit is given. You’re good to your things. I admire that in a man.”

Kurt had gotten more used to his companions incessant a barrage of compliments, but he still wasn't sure how to handle it sometimes. “I don't know. It's kind of gay of me, don't you think?”

Blaine looked at Kurt, a sort of penetrating, inscrutable gaze. It made Kurt feel like he had said the wrong thing. He probably had. But words just had a way of coming out of his mouth when he was around Elder Anderson. “I don't know. Is it gay when I do it?”

“No. I just mean I'm living up to the stereotype.”

Blaine turned his head. He stared at the window of the washing machine directly across from him, watching the clothes swirl around in soapy circles. “I keep thinking about something you said the other day.”

“Was it something particularly wise?”

Blaine didn't laugh. “It reminded me of something. About myself. I don't want to cross any boundaries, but—”

“That's not a promising way to start a conversation.”

“No. I mean it. I don't know if me bringing it up is crossing a boundary. I don't want it to be. But if it is—then tell me. I'll let it go.”

Kurt felt a dreadful flutter in his stomach. “Well, now you have to tell me. My curiosity has the best of me.”

Blaine looked away from the washing machines to make a momentary eye contact with Kurt. “Sorry.”

“Don't be. Just tell me.” Get it over with, Kurt thought.

Blaine looked back at the swirling clothing. “I was just thinking. When I was little, it bothered me that I was different from all my cousins. Being younger than them was part of it, but not terrible, because some of them had kids and the kids were close to my age and—anyway, that's not my point. My point is, we had these family pictures in the living room. All the generations of my dad's family together, every year. And it bothered me, how easy I was to spot among all the kids in the front. They all looked so Mormon, like the Scandinavian and English pioneers they're descended from. And I didn't. I was short. I wasn't blond. Only a couple of them ever told me I looked like my dad when he was a kid. Most of my relatives always talked about how much I took after my mom. And I loved my mom. But she didn't have pioneer ancestry. Her forebears didn't pull handcarts across the plains to Utah. Her forebears weren't... They weren't white. And I was ashamed of that. And it was so confusing. Because I loved her and I loved her family. I was proud of them. They were pioneers themselves, coming to a country that didn’t always welcome them so they could build a better life. They weren't coasting on the sacrifices of their ancestors. They weren't like my dad's side of the family, always talking about pushing through hardship when none of them actually knew what it was like. But still. My mom wasn't white. And I’m not white. And it embarrassed me that anyone who looked at that picture could see it.”

Kurt felt a burning behind his eyes and in his throat. This wasn't what he had expected at all. He wasn't sure what he had expected, but— “I'm so sorry. I had no idea.”

Blaine shrugged. “It's not something I talk a lot about.”

“Do you still feel that way?”

Blaine shook his head. “Embarrassed? No. Angry, sometimes. Not because I'm not white, but because people can be stupid about it. And with Dad’s family? It's like, they're not even aware they're being stupid about it. I can't change it because they can't see it.”

“Have I— Have I been stupid about it? Did I say something that hurt you?”

Blaine seemed to startle. “No. Not at all. What made you think that?”

“You said I said something the other day—”

“Oh. Yes. But not like that. You said—" Blaine’s eyes flitted back and forth between the washing machine and Kurt’s left shoulder before finally landing on his face. “You said you thought you were a little homophobic. I was wondering what you meant by that. If it's like how I’ve felt around my family sometimes. Like … proud of who God made you and ashamed that you're not like everybody else, all mixed together.”

“Oh.” Kurt looked away from Blaine’s gaze. From the bowtie Kurt had picked out for him earlier in the day. He suddenly saw what was so interesting about fabric moving about in the washing machine. “I don't know.”

Blaine didn't say anything. Out of the corner of his eye, Kurt could see that his companion was still watching him. The digital numbers on the front of the washing machine ticked down one minute, then another.

“I crossed a boundary, didn’t I?”

Kurt felt shaken. He would have never thought to put it in those words, but that's exactly what it was, wasn't it? Shame and pride, all mixed together, so it was hard to tell where one ended and the other began.

Somehow, his companion had understood something about Kurt that Kurt had never quite understood about himself. Or maybe he had understood it, somewhere around the edges of his consciousness. But not in such simple words.

Kurt kept his eyes on the washing machine. “I wish I was straight, sometimes.”

“Yeah?”

“I mean, I wished it a lot when I was younger. But even after I understood that this is how God made me, this is who I'm supposed to be... I still wish it sometimes. I'll think, ‘Life would be so much easier if I could just fall in love with Mercedes and we could get married and have kids and everything would go to plan.’ Which is just dumb, because she's not even a Mormon, I'd have to convert her first. The grass always looks greener on the other side even though I know it's not.” Kurt was suddenly aware of the rapidity with which he was swinging his feet beneath the table, and slowed them.

“I don't know. I think sometimes the grass actually is greener on the other side. But for what it's worth, I don't wish you were straight. I think… maybe you'd be a different person then. I'm sure you'd still be a good person, and I'd still like you, but… I don't know. I like you just the way you are. I don't want any of it to be different.” Blaine ran his fingers over the back of his neck. “Is that selfish?”

This was too much. It was definitely too much. Kurt jumped off the table. "Speaking of girlfriends back home—" Kurt reached into the side pocket of his suitcase and pulled out the mail he'd stashed in there while Blaine was still in the shower “—you have another letter from Tina.”

Blaine took the brightly decorated envelope. Letters from Tina were always brightly decorated in pen and ink. The first time Kurt had noticed a letter from her it had been covered in precise, hand drawn fleur-de-leis. The next had been a desert scene of saguaros and a lone woodpecker. There had been one with flowers, and one with the Starship Enterprise. The styles varied so much it was hard to believe they were all drawn by the same person, but when Kurt had asked about it on the arrival of the fourth letter, Blaine had said she was just talented.

Blaine smiled at the envelope, which this time was covered in cats. “She's not my girlfriend.”

"You sure about that? She sure sends you a lot of letters.”

Blaine shrugged. “She's always been that way. She was the one who kept stuffing notes in people's lockers even after they started letting us use cellphones between classes at school. She's tactile, I guess.”

“Tactile?” Kurt jumped back onto the table and bumped his shoulder against Blaine’s. “You sure she's not your girlfriend? I don't usually describe my platonic friends as ‘tactile.’”

Blaine laughed and ducked his head the way he did whenever he got flustered. “No. I mean, yes. I'm sure. I've known her since we were little. We live on the same street. She's like a sister.”

"She writes you more often than your brother does.”

“Well, she's a better sibling than he is. Here, I'll prove it to you.” Blaine opened the envelope, taking care not to tear through any of the artwork. He pulled out the letter. “I'll read this. I 100% guarantee you will find no signs of illicit romance in anything she says.”

Kurt laughed. “You don't have to do that.”

“I don't have to, but I want to. The only option for keeping yourself entertained in this laundromat is drinking coffee, and that's already off the table.”

“Fine.”

Blaine held the letter out at arm’s length and cleared his throat like he was about to give a sacrament meeting talk. But when he started speaking, it was more like he was on stage. He sounded like he was channeling another person. Like he had become another person.

Kurt was suddenly jealous of all the people who had seen Blaine in his high school theater productions. It must have been glorious.

Dear Blaine,

I've narrowed down my options and I think I'm going to ask Mike Chang to prom. Is that weird since he has half of my last name? Will people think I'm a loser and dating my brother?

Blaine looked up from the letter. “Her last name is Cohen-Chang. They're not related.”

Hey, wait, I just remembered something. Did I tell you how last year after prom, Bree walked up to me when you were dancing with Aphasia and asked me why I came to prom with my brother? She seriously thought you and I were related! Or maybe she thought it was some kind a backhanded joke? I don't know. She's weird. Also, I don't like her.

OK, my decision is made. I am going to ask Mike Chang to prom just to spite Bree. Send your opinion anyway in case I panic and change my mind.

I hope your mission is still going well. I mean, I hope you're not converting anybody, but I hope you're having a good time. You really should try some German beer while you're there. It's legal to drink there at your age, and when else are you going to get a chance to drink German beer in Germany? I know you're not going to because you're way too much of a goody two shoes, but it's not like I'm telling you to get drunk or something. Is it technically against the Word of Wisdom if you swish it around your mouth and spit it out?

I'm glad your new companion is cool.

Don't be a stranger,

Love, Tina

Blaine looked up from the letter. “See?”

Kurt knew he was supposed to be commenting on the non-romanticness of the letter, but his attention had been caught by its last line. “You told her I was cool?”

“Of course I did. You're great.”

Kurt let himself enjoy the expansive feeling in his chest for half a second before returning to the original subject. “Was she your girlfriend when you went to prom?”

“No. I just knew I would have more fun with her than I would with some girl who wanted to date for real, you know?”

Kurt didn't know. It seemed weird that a straight guy would rather go to prom with his best friend rather than a romantic interest, but he'd never really understood straight people anyway.

“I sometimes wonder why, though.” Blaine was staring at the washing machine again. It was on the final spin cycle, the clothes blurring together as they sped in ever-faster circles.

“Why what?”

“Why I’ve never been into her that way. If there was ever a girl I should have fallen in love with, it was her. She's pretty, and smart, and funny. We kissed a few times–”

“OK, wait. That's definitely non-sister territory.”

Blaine looked on the verge of blushing. “I suppose. But I never felt a spark. So it's definitely not girlfriend territory.” Blaine glanced down at the table and traced his finger on some invisible line. “But I sometimes worry that there's still this part of me that’s ashamed. Like, maybe I don't think she's good enough because she's not some tall blonde girl of pioneer heritage.”

"So have you fallen for a lot of tall blonde girls of pioneer heritage?”

“No. I've gone on dates with a few. It feels like hanging out with my cousins. The nice ones, not the uncomfortably racist ones.”

"Well, it's not like we're supposed to get romantically involved with anyone in high school, anyway. Especially not a non-Mormon girl who's encouraging you to drink. I mean, I'm assuming she's not Mormon, because with a letter like that –”

"She's not Mormon. She's Jewish. She literally told me she'd rather die than convert. She made me swear that if she dies before me, I will not let anyone we know do a baptism for the dead on her behalf.”

"OK, so… Even less chance than Mercedes. I like a strong-willed woman, though.”

“Me, too. Just not this one in that way.” Blaine sighed.

“Well, you're not supposed to be thinking about it now, anyway.” Without full awareness of what he was doing, Kurt tapped his index finger against the top of Blaine's head, pressing it through his buoyant curls. "God’s just keeping everything clear in there so you can focus on your mission. You can worry about falling in love with Tina later.”

“Yeah, I don't think that's going to happen.”

Kurt folded his hands back into his lap. He touched his CTR ring. “You never know. I have it on good authority that love surprises you when you least expect it.”

[watermelonlovershigh]

You Get Sick in the Back of an Uber

AN: so this was a story i have had in my drafts for like three months and just never found motivation to finish it. i decided to finish this first out of my drafts because it was one of the ones that had the most already written for it. unlike some of my others that don't have much written yet. and this was supposed to be longer but i got lazy and ended the end with no dialogue and shorted the story. but i guess that's fine because the main part of this was the uber incident and not necessary the aftercare. (i just love to always include aftercare whether its with sex or getting sick. unless its a blurb) @harryhoney-bee suggested number 1. on my voting post so thank you for requesting i finish this one shot idea that was in my drafts.

This story contains: puke, drunken person, caring husband

{ husband!harry - dad!harry - Grammys 2021 Harry - 4 kids (any age you imagine) }

word count: 1765

When you drink too much at the Grammys, you end up having to get sick in the uber ride home and Harry cares for you.

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

Back Story-

After the Grammys, Harry and I decided to go to the little after party that was being held for the Grammy attendees. We knew we couldn't stay too long because we had to get back home to our kids. They were currently with our babysitter but she couldn't stay all night. She has to go home at some point. So we made sure to watch the time.

At the afterparty, drinks were flowing. I haven't drank in a while due to the fact I had been pregnant not too long ago. This was the first night I was allowed to drink and I decided to do just that. Harry was aware of me drinking and promised to watch and take care of me. Though we were at this afterparty for him, he wanted me to let loose and have some fun as well.

But what he wasn't expecting was for me to drink the amount I did. I didn't mean to go over board. It just kind of happened. People handing out drinks left and right and next thing I knew, I was drunk. Not tipsy, drunk. When Harry noticed how drunk I was, he decided it's best to go home.

And because Harry also had drank some alcohol, he wasn't in a state to drive either. By no means was he as drunk as me though. Maybe just tipsy but he didn't want to risk it. So he decided to call an uber for us.

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

Current-

We're sitting in the back of the uber on our way home. It's about an hour drive since the city is crowded with traffic due to the Grammys. Right about now is when I regret drinking any alcohol tonight. Because I haven't drank in over a year, my body isn't use to the poison running through my veins. So you could say I'm a lightweight now. My head is throbbing. My vision is blurry. My stomach is turning. Lets just say I regret all my decisions tonight that lead to me feeling this way.

"Harrrrry I don't feel good." I manage to slur out.

"You probably should have stuck to champagne instead of vodka my love." Harry responds, while stroking my hair out of my face in a gentle manner.

Another 10 minutes pass and I'm feeling very nauseous. I'm trying to focus on my breathing but it's not working.

"Harry my stomach hurts." I whisper with hooded eyes.

"Like you're gonna be sick?" Harry questions with panic.

I nod my head and hear Harry asking the driver if he can pull over.

"Can you pull over? My wife is feeling ill." Harry frantically questions the uber driver up front.

"I'm sorry sir but this freeway is packed and there is no way I can get to the side of the road right now." the driver says with a bit of an attitude.

Hearing that made me and Harry both start to panic.

"Well do you have any sick bags in here?" my husband asks.

"Sorry I don't." the driver retorts in a uncaring tone. What kind of uber driver doesn't carry sick bags for when drunks potentially need a ride but feel like they are going to be sick?

I just barley hear Harry let out a frustrated sigh and turn to me.

"Try and relax love. Take deep breaths for me, alright." Harry whispers while rubbing my back as I'm slumped over his body, too disoriented to even hold my head up.

About 3 minutes later, I feel vomit rise up my throat. There isn't much I can to do. The driver already said he couldn't pull over, nor does he have sick bags. I sit up from my slouched position and clasp a hand over my mouth. My legs are bouncing up and down. I'm trying desperately not to puke but I'm doing a poor job. Harry is sitting up with me, trying to comfort me but his words are all a blur at this point.

"If you have to be sick darling, let it out. I'll pay to get this uber cleaned, okay." Harry states in my ear. I know he'd rather not have me puke on the floor of the uber, right beside him, but he can tell I'm struggling and in discomfort.

Hearing those words was all the conformation I needed. I remove my hand from my mouth and let out a gush of alcoholic bile spew from my mouth and onto the backseat floor board. Harry gathers my hair in his hands so it's not in my face. My vomit splatters all over my legs and on the bottom of Harry's Gucci suit. I'd feel terrible about that if I wasn't so out of it, but my mind is a mushed up blur.

"Shhh, that's it. You're alright." Harry reassures me. The uber driver lets out a sigh of disgust, but this is truly his fault that I'm throwing up in his uber right now anyways.

Heave after heave, I let out more of the alcohol that was poisoning my system, right onto the floor. It's not a pretty sight. I'm having a cold sweat and my body is trembling. Though Harry has a weak stomach, when it comes to his wife (me) or his kids, he can always handle a bit of throw up. Or a lot like currently. It's like a fatherly/husband instinct that comes over him and he feels only adrenaline, not yuck.

Finally I feel my stomach relax and I sit up, breathing heavy with vomit dripping down my chin. Without thinking, I wipe it off with the back of my hand and smear it on my already ruined dress. "Feeling better?" Harry asks in a low tone.

"Mhmm." I hum, not really feeling like talking. My drunken brain has cleared up some from the majority of the alcohol being out of my system, but I still feel the after affects drinking brings. I just lean my head on Harry's shoulder for the rest of the ride home and allow the cool breeze to blow on my face. The uber driver did us all a favor by rolling the windows down so we didn't suffocate on the nasty smell of my sick.

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

After-

When we arrived home, Harry payed the uber driver, not giving much of a tip and told him that he'd have someone clean his car out in the morning. As well as a half assed apology for my incident beings it could have been prevented. Then carefully, Harry lifted me out the uber and carried me into our Los Angeles home. Good thing our kids were all asleep because they shouldn't have to see their mother like this. Covered in puke and half drunk.

Harry took me to our bathroom and quickly ran down stairs to pay our babysitter, hoping she didn't question my appearance when she saw my state as we came through the front door. She didn't thankfully and left soon after her check was handed to her. Harry came back up to where he left me and helped me clean up and get ready for bed.

He stripped us of our vomit covered clothes and helped me into the big walk-in shower we have in our master bathroom. Then after he delicately washed our bodies along with my hair, he helped us out and dried us off. We brushed our teeth, me with the help of my husband because I was still a bit dizzy. After we're clean of sick and smelt fresh, he helped me put some panties and a t-shirt over my nude body and boxers on himself; just incase our kids woke up and needed us for whatever reason.

Harry helped me into our large bed and tucked me in, bending down to kiss my forehead. Then he walked down to the kitchen and grabbed a glass of water and a bucket incase I needed to be sick again at some point through-out the rest of the early morning. When he had all the items he intended to grab, Harry came back to our bedroom where I was already passed out with sleep.

So he just set the water on my night stand and the bucket on the floor, beside my side of the bed. Then Harry quietly exited our room and went to each of our child's bedrooms to make sure they were fine and still asleep like they should be, which they thankfully were.

When everything was done and taken care of, Harry turned the bedroom lights out and slipped in the covers with me. He helped my body scoot over and I cuddled into his warm body. I didn't realize it in my state of sleep but I knew when I awoke, I'll be thinking about how grateful I am to have a wonderful husband like Harry.

He takes such good care of me. He didn't get upset that I drank too much on his special night and accidently got wasted. He never once got upset that I basically got throw up on his expensive suit tonight in the uber. He didn't get annoyed that he had to shower both me and him past midnight, though he was exhausted. Harry loves taking care of me (and our kids) and wouldn't wish for any other life. Even when his life becomes chaotic and stressful. Harry loves his family dearly and his family love him just as much or more.

Masterlist (regular smut, fluff & sicfics)

My Favorite Harry Styles Fics MASTERLIST

Harry Styles Series - One Shots & Blurbs Masterlist

Harry Styles blurbs, concepts, & short stories Masterlist- (short writing with little to no dialog)

[milkteahood]

Hello! I've been thinking about this for a whole week and I need to get it off my chest or I'll explode. This might be worded strangely because I can't explain it, only imagine it so I'll try my best. 😊

After the whole killing Miranda thing, Karl and his s/o move away from Romania, and after taking some time adjusting to their new life, have a baby. Now, I headcanon that Karl is afraid of going to the doctor because of Miranda's past experiments on him, and is especially deathly afraid of needles. Him using them on other people? That's just fine. But when it's pointed at him? Someone's gonna get hurt and it's not gonna be him.

So when his precious little ray of sunshine has to get their first vaccine shots, he's a nervous wreck, almost as if he was the one getting poked at, but tries to hide it. He knew it was good for his baby's health and he wants nothing more, but why did it have to be through painful shots? How is there not vaccine juice they can drink instead, dammit?! Obviously his s/o can tell he's getting worked up; he's tapping his foot, cooing at their baby to keep himself distracted, snuggling them close to his chest, almost like he's protecting them from the doctor's and their scary needles. His s/o tries to distract and calm him as their baby babbles happily in his arms.

The nurse comes in and Karl immediately goes into full Dad Mode™. Have you ever seen the cute video of the dad who's scared of needles comforting his baby son while he gets his shots? This one -> https://youtu.be/lqAUMsqiFxI (I hope that actually leads to the video), I think that's how he'd act. He's not even thinking about how he looks, he probably looks ridiculous but that's in the very back of his mind. His only thoughts are about protecting his baby from any and all pain, so he doesn't really care, as he cradles them and rambles non-stop encouragement and praise, not leaving their side for a second. When the nurse is done, Karl immediately scoops the baby up, seemingly more relieved than they were, holding them close and cooing about how strong they are.

His s/o would've chuckled a bit in wholehearted amusement at his heartwarming scene in the doctor's office, but the display of their lover and baby was just too cute and they didn't want to break Karl out of whatever protective instincts he was under. During the pregnancy, he was so scared that the persistant thoughts telling him that he will be a horrible father would be true, but, even if Karl himself didn't see it yet, his s/o knew their baby was safe being watched by his loving eyes and cradled in his protective arms.

I couldn’t open the link, but I can still imagine how that would go, so I hope you like this 💕

“My love, it’s just a vaccine” Y/N told Karl

“But it’s gonna hurt! I know it will! People used to scream when I did anything to them!”

“That’s because you used to do experiments on them. This is a vaccine. It’s completely safe”

Karl would not bulge. He knew the vaccine was mandatory, but he couldn’t see his princess go through anything inconvenient. They have been waiting outside the doctor’s office, ready to be called in any minute. His daughter was playing with one of the buttons from his coat, giggling and nibbling on it.

Some children would cry while getting their vaccine, which would freak Karl would even more. No matter how much his wife tried fo reassure him, he still tried to convince her to leave. He tried his best to stay calm, sometimes wishing he’d have his daughter’s chill. She did not care, too focused on ripping off that button. But Karl cared. Flashbacks of Miranda’s experiments came to him.

Him as a child, tied to a table while Miranda stung him with yet another needle. He never knew what was inside them until it was too late. He remembers screaming and crying, begging Miranda to stop. Telling her that it hurts. That he can’t take it anymore. But she never stopped. She always used to call him her brave son. And now, whenever he’d accidentally sting himself while working, he would flip the whole room. There was a particular fear rooted in trauma he couldn’t get over. His wife placed her palm on his knee, when she noticed he was tapping his foot.

She knew about his fears and traumas all too well. Y/N has been the first and only person he has even opened up to. She also knew he loved getting his hair played with when stressed. Looking down she noticed he was holding their daughter very protectively, and deep down, she hoped her child wouldn’t cry, for if she did, Karl would destroy the entire hospital.

The baby was looking up at her father curiosity. She was yet to discover why he wasn’t happy at the moment. When she frowned at him, Karl got stopped in his tracks.

“Why is she doing that?”

“Because she can sense how uneasy you’re feeling” his wife chuckled.

Some relief washed over him at that. He has always been scared of being a terrible father. For a moment there he thought his daughter hated him. Some forehead kisses later, and his daughter was a giggling mess once more. That eased Karl’s stress, and he began playing with her in an attempt to distract himself.

At some point he stood up and started playing airplane with her. The parents around found it endearing. Everyone thought he was being so considerate, not wanting his daughter to get scared, but in truth, he was the one that was scared. His daughter was happy, and that’s all that mattered. But he knew it wouldn’t last long. He knew the nurse could come out any second to call them in. And he was right, for it didn’t take long before he heard her call “Mr and Mrs Heisenberg? Please come inside”.

Karl shot another desperate look to his wife, hoping they would just leave. It was not too late yet. They could just walk out. What would the doctor even do? No one ever dared stand up to Karl. Well, except one particular person that kicked his ass, but that’s another story for another time.

As they walked inside, Karl was holding their daughter and his wife could easily sense he is feeling nervous. The doctor has been nothing but kind, reassuring Karl’s wife that fathers are usually the sensitive ones about this. In an attempt to make them laugh, by cracking a few jokes, the doctor earned a giggle from the little one. Karl, who was ready to throw that person out the window the second they came near with the needle, smiled. He smiled at his daughter smiling, and he smiled at the doctor for getting that out of her.

“You seem nice. Why are children crying?” Karl asked a little skeptical

“Well, the sting does hurt a little. And they’re children, not only it hurts, they also sense their parents’ discomfort. It’s a lot to take it for a baby, but it goes away rather quickly” the doctor explained

Karl did not like the doctor mentioning pain one bit. He was now even more reluctant to give them his daughter. But he had to and his wife was encouraging him to. She has always been supportive of him and she was doing a great job at being the emotional support Karl desperately needed.

When the doctor prepared the shot, and proceeded to approach, Karl froze up in place, and his wife needed to rub his back and reassure him that she’s right there and she’s not going anywhere. He couldn’t take his eyes away from the needle. His entire body was screaming at him to do something. The only constant thing was his wife’s palm on his back. Up and down, then kissing his shoulder.

He was broken away from his trance when he heard his baby girl cry. He was about to rip the doctor in half, before his wife stopped him.

“And that’s all!” the doctor said, cold sweat breaking as they made eye contact with Karl.

“Oh thank you so much” Karl’s wife hurried to say before dragging her husband out. She knew any more minute spent in there and Karl would totally kill the doctor.

Karl easily managed to get his daughter to stop crying, but his wife had to do a lot of convincing for her husband not to resort to murder. In the end she ended up calming him down by holding his hand on their way back home, with the occasional cheek kiss.

[limetameta]

more on the kimblee family

Kimblee's dad, absolutely well-put together, handsome man, wearing suits, always ironed to perfection. You expect him to be so, so cultured. So, so amazing and well-versed in all things artistic and cultural. He opens his mouth, you're at the edge of your seat, and then the most petty-bourgeois, fake-cultured shit comes out of his mouth that you're absolutely horrified someone is like that while looking like that.

Kimblee's mom is the cultured one. She goes to art galleries and music hall concerts and operas and theatre plays and reads all of these classical novels, follows politics, is incredibly knowledgeable.

Meanwhile Kimblee's dad plays the accordion and goes trumpeteering on weddings with his travelling band for tips. He's maybe read 5 books in his lifetime. Loves to fish, though, and hunt. Not an academic, certainly, but he's involved in the community, though. Everyone loves him. Real social butterfly of a man. Always knows a guy who knows a guy who knows a guy. Can recite his family tree since its beginning. Family is a big thing for him.

Someone asks him how he even met Kimblee's mom, like why did he go to the concert hall that day when normally he never goes to such places - and he just replies with: they closed down the bar of choice on the account of one of my friends breaking the bar owner's head with a rakija bottle so I just decided to see what the hubub was about. :D She takes me sometimes with the children, but I'm not interested in all this high society stuff, really. The children like it, though.

Solf asks her: How did you ever fall for him? :/ You're so different.

Kimblee's mom just sighs, as if it's painful: He's the most reliable man I've ever met in my life. :// And he loves me. And I love him. I don't know why, Solf.

Solf: D: That sounds terrible.

Kimblee's mom, laughing at him: Be happy if you find a woman at least a fifth like your father. He's never let me down in my life. No other man would tolerate half the things I put him through. Besides, he writes songs for me. And provides for me. It's kind of sexy, honestly.

Solf: :/

Kimblee's mom: *trying to comb his hairs back in his ponytail* *they keep sticking out* *growling, frustrated* I'm going to cut your hair while you're asleep so I don't need to look at these hairs sticking out.

Solf: D: NO YOU WON'T! *covering his head and glaring at his mother* I'LL SLEEP WITH ONE EYE OPEN!

*door opens*

Kimblee's dad, stinking of fish: LOOK WHAT I CAUGHT! :D *shows them a giant ass fish*

Sibling: *shows smaller fish* :D I caught this one so Solf's cats can eat.

Kimblee's mom and Solf, dressed fancy, ready to go to the concert hall: *thumbs up* *five metres away so the stench of the fish doesn't attack them* Good job!

Also additional headcanon: Solf's cats love his dad because he feeds them fresh fish he catches. Solf, too, like a big cat he is, loves his dad because the man feeds him fish. Solf Fish Lover Kimblee rights.

Kimblee's dad is actually really, really knowledgeable of tales and stories passed down from father to son from father to son so even though he doesn't really read books that often he has such a wealth of stories in his head that he shares by singing in the very particular way of orating that's specific for their part of Amestris.

Solf: *side-eyeing his dad* How does all of that fit inside your head?

Kimblee's dad: :D Well, I don't listen to your complaints from school so I've got plenty of room. If anything, whatever you told me just now I've forgotten.

Solf: -_- I don't think you and I have spoken about school since I enrolled in it, years ago.

Kimblee's dad: Oh, that's the other one, then.

Solf: Do you even know how old I am?

Kimblee's dad: Not sure, honestly. I don't even know if you have friends. I know all your cats names, though, and I call that a monumental success!

Solf: You don't know their names! You just call them based on their fur colours!!! And you call the black cat Orange for some reason, just to piss me off!

Kimblee's dad: That cat has the head the size of a perfect orange. Calling it stupid shit like Midnight isn't cutting it for me.

Solf: I don't call the cat Midnight. I call it Fang, because it hunts really well. :)

Kimblee's dad: That cat's my son. It's brought more prey it's hunted than you ever will and I've been going hunting with you for years now. *taking out a cigarette and lighting it*

Solf: :/ I'm telling mom you still haven't quit smoking.

Kimblee's dad: Go, pull at your mom's skirts like a little boy all your life! One day we'll be dead and you'll just have your cats!

Solf: :///////////// Better company than you in any case.

Kimblee's dad: I'm telling your mom you're being mean to me again.

Solf: D: Don't you dare. She actually sat me down one time and told me, explicitly, that she was going to confiscate my alchemy books if I don't have one meaningful conversation with you per week.

Kimblee's dad: I'm going to die one day and you'll be sad you were mean to me, you know.

Solf: Your gas-lighting games won't win, old man. I'm onto you.

Kimblee's dad, miffed: I'm not old... I made you when I was really young.

[willowbird]

HEY for the prompt game: au 7, trope 3 (i love chaos), and very specific location 2? i'll leave the pairing up to your whimsy i just saw the combination of au and trope and HAD to request it lmao

Foxes as kids, foxes WITH kids, INSIDE ANDREW'S CLOSET.

Guys guys guys there were SO MANY WAYS I wanted to do this that my brain kinda exploded for a moment before I decided to go this route. Hope you enjoy!

---

"Oh no oh no oh no oh no!!!!!”

Andrew looked up at the ceiling, where the small, modern chandelier above the kitchen island swung in time with the distressed shouts and several ominous thumps. He looked over to where his husband was flipping pancakes and rose a single brow in question.

Neil shrugged, as if to say 'How should I know?'

A brief staring contest ensued, continued chaos still racketing upstairs. Finally, Andrew lifted one hand and curled it into a fist. Neil lifted his own, and after a brief round of rock-paper-scissors Andrew sighed to his loss and pushed away from the counter.

Neil caught the edge of his shirt as he passed him, tugging him in for a quick kiss. "I'll put extra chocolate chips in the pancakes."

"Bribery is unnecessary when you won fair and square," Andrew grumbled back.

Neil raised his eyebrows. "You turning down more chocolate? I mean okay, if you're-"

Andrew cut him off with a kiss. "Too late to take it back." Then he turned and headed out of the kitchen, only to be nearly mowed down by a wide-eyed eight-year-old.

"Watch yourself there, Kev," Andrew cautioned as he prevented the gangly child from sending them both to the ground.

The kid's big bottle-green eyes were wide with alarm. "Dad! He's going bonkers! I dunno what's wrong with him." He wrinkled his nose. "Well, there is a lot wrong with him. But I mean I don't know what's wrong with him today."

Andrew sighed, more because he was pretty sure he did know what was going rather than because he didn't. It was honestly better if Kevin just thought his brother was being weirder than usual for as long as possible. He had a feeling that if Kevin could get any leverage on his spazzy older brother he'd turn into even more of a terror than he already was.

Andrew ruffled his younger son's hair and gave him a nudge. "I'll check on him. Go help your dad with breakfast."

Kevin perked up. "Pancakes?"

"Pancakes," Andrew confirmed with a solemn nod.

"Do you think dad'll make one in the silhouette of a dead French guy?!”

"If you ask him, maybe."

That's all it took, and the kid was taking off like a shot again. Andrew watched him go, grimacing at the thought that they would probably have to enroll him in sports this year if only to help him burn off all that damned energy. He was just as bad as Neil.

A scampering upstairs followed by the slam of a door drew Andrew's attention back to matter at hand. The slammed door did not come from either of the boys' rooms, but rather the opposite end of the hall, where Neil and Andrew's room was. In all, this wasn't all that surprising - at least not when it came to his fourteen-year-old. He'd been hiding in Andrew and Neil's closet whenever he got particularly upset since he was four and Neil had performed a "magic ritual" to make the closet a "bunker against all evil".

Andrew climbed the steps and made his way down the hall, stopping once he came to the closed closet door. From inside he could hear the muffled mutterings of an anxious teenager. He lifted a hand and knocked with just two knuckles.

When there was no answer, he knocked again and asked, voice mild, "Can I come in?"

Then he waited, giving his son time to process that he was here for him, whatever the issue was. Almost a full minute passed before a tight, watery voice said, "Y-you can come in."

Permission granted, Andrew swung open the door to find Nicky curled up in the corner, cheeks flushed and brown eyes full of tears. Nicky was technically Andrew's much younger cousin on his biological mother's side, but he and Neil had adopted him when, at two, DCFS took him away from his parents due to a severe case of neglect. The first few years had been tense - because Luther and Maria had tried to fight it - but Andrew's adoptive mother was a child psychologist and Neil's foster sister a renowned family lawyer.

Even without the connections they would have fought to the death to keep Nicky, though. From the second they brought him home, he was theirs, and they were the only real parents the boy had ever known.

"H-hey pops," Nicky stammered through a poorly-attempted smile.

Andrew waved away the bravado and took a seat next to his son. "Should I talk to Grandpa Wymack about getting us a bigger closet? We aren't both going to fit in here much longer," he said lightly, a soft opening for Nicky to tell him what had him so upset.

Nicky laughed, a more genuine sound, then sniffed and rubbed at his eyes. "N-no. I'm sorry. I just..."

Andrew shook his head to stop him. "I would rather pay to have the closet expanded than take away a place you feel safe when you are upset."

As he watched, tears filled Nicky's eyes again, then he launched forward and it was honestly probably a good thing that the closet was a tight fit, otherwise Andrew might have gotten knocked over by the force of the hug. As it were, he was able to catch his son, patting his back only slightly awkwardly as Nicky let out a choked sob and began to ramble:

"..and then I told him that I liked his EARS oh my god Pops I am such a MORON why couldn't I tell him that I liked his eyes like a normal human or even that I liked his mouth or something!? That's sexy right? Oh my god this is terrible. And then! AND THEN I went and I liked about ten of his posts IN A ROW LIKE A CREEP and he NOTICED and then he MESSAGED ME and oh my god I can never show my face again.."

There was very little that Andrew could do other than listen, so that was what he did. As he did, though, he felt a warmth pool in his chest. A warmth that his son felt so safe and comfortable in his and Neil's space that he came here to hide when he felt upset. A warmth that he felt so comfortable, so safe with Andrew that he invited him into that space with him. That his son would cling to him and ramble about his boy problems without fear of judgement. That the biggest problems Nicky had right now were typical teenaged woes, not all the horrors that both Andrew and his husband were far too aware of existing in the world.

"I just don't know what to DO. Oh my god my life is OVER," Nicky finished with a flourish, pulling back and looking up at him with wide dark eyes.

After a thoughtful pause, Andrew finally gave a hum and said, "Well, that depends."

"Depends?"

Andrew shrugged. "Does he really have cute ears?"

Nicky made and high, defeated sound, burying his face in his hands. "They are ADORABLE, Pops. A-dor-a-ble."

"Ah." Andrew nodded his understanding and patted his son on the shoulder. "Then I think that definitely calls for extra chocolate chips in the pancakes."

And, because Nicky was a teenaged boy with boy problems - but he was also still a teenaged boy (and moreover, he was Andrew's son), his head went up and his eyes brightened. "Chocolate chips."

"And whipped cream."

"Oh!" Nicky scrambled to his feet and bounded out of the closet with a flourish, only to come up short when Andrew snagged the back of his shirt.

"And Nicky, those crashes from before..?"

Nicky blushed brightly and glanced out the bedroom door toward his own room and quickly back again. "Um.. I'll clean up after breakfast?"

Andrew put on his most impactful Dad Stare, then gave a firm nod before letting go. "You better. Now hurry on before Kevin eats them all."

Nicky yelped in an entirely new kind of distress, all but sprinting out of the room. "KEVIN DON'T YOU DARE YOU LITTLE MONSTER!"

Andrew watched him go and didn't bother to stop the smile that crawled onto his face from a hidden chamber somewhere in the center of his heart. There was once a time he might have resisted it, when he was younger and wounded and angry, his teeth bared against a world that had only ever hurt him. Now, though? Now there was so much fierce, protective warmth inside of him - so much pride, so much adoration, so much love, that he no longer saw the expression of joy as a sign of weakness.

Shouts and scuffling downstairs pulled him out of his thoughts and he sighed to himself, but he was still wearing the smile as he headed down to breakfast.

[oddsnendsfanfics]

Unraveling the Mystery

Genre: Fan Fiction

Pairing: Henry Cavill/OFC

Warnings: N/A

Rating: PG

Length: Short Story

Disclaimer: a strict work of fiction, I own nothing except the original characters and the plot line. In no way am I affiliated to any of it.

A/N: I have been sitting on this idea, for a while. It's taken forever to get it just right, what can I say? I can't get away from these folks.

Henry Cavill Master List

Sitting in the backseat of the car, Ivan huffed. Arms across his chest, Kal laying quietly beside him, his head on the boy's lap. He was not amused by his parent's Saturday excursion. In the front seat, Nell checked her phone, looking at emails and appointments for the upcoming week. Henry had his eyes on the road, navigating through the small city with expert care and attention.

Saturdays spent as a family were supposed to be fun. Ivan wasn't exactly having fun. Grumpy all morning, he hadn't turned his scowl upside down once. Whatever. His parents didn't seem to notice or care that he was in a pissy mood. Why should they?

When they'd left home, Henry had mentioned going to the next town over, but didn't really say why. Nell had been too worried looking for paperwork. Ivan wasn't stupid, he'd heard them in the office last night. They thought he had gone to bed, which he had, but they didn't know their son had gone back down stairs for a drink. Walking by the door, he'd stopped, originally to say “good night”, again but decided to hold out.

Ivan laid his head back on the seat, Kal nestling in for the remainder of the ride. How could his parents do this to him? The bits of conversation had replayed in his mind all night.

"But if we adopt, then we know it's a girl." Sighing, Nell rubbed her eyes. "I am outnumbered."

"Yes, but what if we can't find the right girl?"

Ivan furrowed his brow, listening through the cracked door. His parents were clearly discussing something that would be a huge part of their family, yet chose to leave him out? 

Standing quietly for a few seconds, trying to peep around the office door, he saw Kal sprawled out on the floor. Sleeping soundly. At least his position wasn't going to be given away. 

"And we will need to take him. I don't want to bring him home a sister, to find out he's pissed off." Henry continued. 

Gee, thanks dad. Ivan rolled his eyes, tears stinging. 

Inside of the office his mother's chair scraped the floor. Time to move along. Quietly rushing to get upstairs, before he was caught. 

They were adopting and didn't even bother to ask how he felt? What if he didn't want a sibling? What if he was content being an only child? Nobody had bothered to ask him and it hurt.

“Almost there,” Henry announced. Ivan huffed, Nell hummed, and Kal sighed. “Not the response that I was expecting, but okay.”

“I'm excited, I'm busy is all.” Nell glanced at her husband with a warm smile. “Someone has to keep you in costume and Ivan on track.”

“Whatever.” Ivan muttered, rolling his eyes. So now they pretend to care.

“When we're finished, do you want to go for a walk and grab something to eat?”

Leaning around in her seat to see Ivan; Nell smiled. “What do you think wild boy? Should we grab something to eat after? I hear they have a great sushi place just around the corner.”

“Whatever.”

“Is that all you can say today?” Nell raised her brow.

Ivan shrugged.

“Well, then. I guess you don't have an opinion, then we will go wherever we see fit.”

“Why ask me where I want to eat, you didn't care to ask me if I even wanted to come.”

“We thought that you'd enjoy an afternoon out.” Henry answered, checking that he was clear to make the right hand turn. Pulling into an empty space, he killed the engine. “We're here.”

“I'm excited.”

“I'm not.” Grumbled Ivan in reply to his mother's enthusiasm.

Leaning over, Henry was the one turned to face his sullen son. “Okay, before we go in. Care to tell me what's going on?”

In the back seat, Ivan tried his best not to allow his tears to fall. If they began then they may never stop. Dramatic? A little. He couldn't hold it in any longer, his parents had truly hurt his feelings and trust. Why had they not trusted him to tell him the truth? If he hadn't heard them talking, would they have simply brought another child home and told him to deal with it?

Sniffling, he wiped his hand across his cheeks. How silly did he look?

“Ivan?” Henry prompted, gently reaching out to his son.

Shrinking away, Ivan continued to sniffle. Shaking his head, Ivan opened his mouth to answer, but only a sob came.

“Are you okay? Ivan, you can talk to us.” Encouraging her son, despite her heart clenching, Nell tried to smile.

He had been out of sorts all morning. Taking it as he was annoyed to be woken so early, Nell had ignored his bad mood. She'd figured it would change, when they arrived to meet the puppy. On the seat beside him, Kal laid with his head still on Ivan. Nudging him gently with his nose.

“You didn't even ask me, how-how I felt.” Ivan whispered.

“Felt? About what? Are you not feeling well?” Concern etched Henry's face.

Ivan shook his head. “About adopting. Why? Why would you do that and not talk to me? A sister is a pretty big thing and you didn't even ask, if I wanted one.”

In a second, Henry could nearly feel his heart breaking for his son. Clearing his throat, he rubbed the back of his neck. Nell sprang into mom mode. Taking over, giving Ivan a soft smile and passing back a tissue from her bag,

“Oh, wild boy.” Cooing, Nell shook her head. “No, I think you have it wrong.”

“Do I? Oh really?”

“Yeah, we're um...we wanted to keep it a secret, in case Kal didn't get along with her. But then we were so excited, we had to bring you. Ivan, we're here to see about adopting another dog.”

“A dog?” Ivan sat up his interest fully engaged. Henry laughed and nodded. His mood changing faster than a speeding bullet. “A dog? We're getting another dog?”

“Maybe.” It was only fair that Henry laid down the rules now. “If she and Kal get along, then we will take her home. For a week. If they manage well, then she is ours. If they don't, then we have to bring her back. We didn't want to tell you, because we wanted to surprise you.”

“You better like her.” Ivan gently booped Kal's nose. Kal snuffled and yawned.

“I wish you had told us, how you felt. Oh god, I'm sorry.”

Last night, while in the office, Nell had heard a creak outside the door. Assuming it was another feature of the older home, she had ignored it, continuing her conversation with Henry. Shit. Now she felt terrible. How Ivan must have felt, beyond her comprehension. No wonder the poor boy had been in a rotten mood. Assuming his parent were making life decisions and not bothering to inform him.

“It's okay mum.” Ivan shrugged, “I shouldn't have assumed.”

“Wild boy, we would never adopt another child, without talking to you. Honestly.” Nell informed her son, her caring smile growing.

“Unless something changes, drastically, we will never have that conversation. So I think you are safe.”

“But I thought you wanted more kids?” Eyeing his father cautiously, Ivan wiped his nose on the tissue and snuffled once more. His tears dried on his cheeks.

Henry shrugged, glancing at Nell and smiling. “Once upon a time, I would have loved to have a dozen kids. But, I think that time has gone. You're older now and I know that you enjoy being an only child. Besides, your mum and I don't have that energy anymore. Chasing small children, it's too much work.”

“Well, now that we have this cleared up. Shall we go meet the potential, puppy?”

“Yes, please.” Ivan sprung up, grabbing Kal's leash to get the big dog out of the car. Opening the car door, he shuffled out to join his parents, promptly handing Kal to Henry.

A shift in his mood, Ivan could barely contain his excitement, asking his parents all kinds of questions. The short distance from the car to the shelter didn't give them much time to answer, but Nell did her best to fill in any information that Ivan was requesting. They had found the puppy on the website, not really looking for another dog.

Her name was Tilly, she was almost a year old, an energetic doxie pinscher mix. Her mother rescued a few weeks before Tilly and her two brothers were born. Ivan didn't even have to see her, to know she would be the best dog – best small dog – ever. Clearly Kal was the best dog ever. Henry allowed Kal a few minutes outside, while Nell and Ivan went inside to inform the staff that they had arrived.

“Mum,” Ivan whispered standing beside her, in the lobby, waiting for the assistant to join them, “I'm sorry.”

“It's okay, wild boy. You have nothing to be sorry for, but the next time come talk to me. I don't like it when you are upset.” Nell wrapped her arm around him, kissing the top of his head.

“Mrs. Cavill?” A tall woman asked walking into the room. Nell nodded and smiled. “Hi, I'm Aly. I'll be hanging out with you today.” She glanced at Ivan and smiled. Carefully looking passed Nell, she shifted. “You mentioned bringing your dog?”

“Yes, he's outside with my husband. It was a bit of a drive up. Can you go let your dad know that he needs to come in?” Nell ruffled Ivan's hair.

Nodding, Ivan did his best to control his excitement, reminding himself to walk towards the door. Calmly, he took a breath. Spotting Henry and Kal on the small patch of grass, he waved opening the door to call his dad. Excitement, contain. Breathe. Ivan straightened his posture before walking back across the office to his mother.

“He's coming.”

“Do you want to follow me in, when he comes in then I can have them sent back?”

“Sure, sounds good.” Following Aly behind a set of doors, Nell and Ivan walked hand in hand. It was not at all what Ivan imagined. There were no rows of barking dogs, instead it was a calm and quiet group of rooms. Each one with large windows and a door. Inside the floors had patches of fake grass, tile flooring, and a few toys.

“The last time that you were here, I know that you and your husband had met Tilly and Anduin.” Holding open a door to one of the rooms, Aly addressed Nell. Ivan raised his brow. So his parents had been here before? “Did you want to bring them both out?”

Slightly blushing, Nell gave the assistant a sheepish smile. “I'm not going to lie, I really adored Tilly. I agreed to bring Anduin out, to humour my husband.”

Ivan giggled. Of course his dad would have wanted to meet Anduin.

“Ah, I understand. Okay, well I am going to get Tilly. You can make yourselves comfortable.”

Ivan sat in one of the plastic office chairs, swinging his legs lightly, his feet not that far from the floor. Nell stood in the corner by the floor to ceiling window, watching for Henry and Kal. Humming contently, Ivan tried to picture what this new dog would look like. She would certainly be smaller than Kal, not even the size of Kal's leg. He giggled at the idea of the little dog bossing the old bear around.

Would Tilly like them?

“What's Anduin like?”

“Huh?” Nell turned her head to look at Ivan, she had been lost in her thoughts of upcoming projects and school sport schedules.

“Anduin, you said that you only saw him because Dad wanted to.”

“Oh, he's a nice dog. But he's big and bouncy, he's still young and they said he had a bit of an aggression problem to work through. I'm sure he'll make someone a great dog, but he's not what we need. Not right now.”

Ivan nodded in understanding. As much as they loved Kal, one big dog was enough. He sat looking around the room, when he and his mom spotted Aly at the same time. Taking a step back from her post, Nell held out an arm to Ivan, indicating she wanted him to join her.

Entering the room, Aly had a small dog in her arms. Licking her face furiously, the dog wagged her tail, excitedly enjoying the interaction.

“Here is Tilly,” bending to sit the puppy on the floor, Aly smiled at Ivan. “Why don't you take a seat and get to know her?”

“Mum, momma, mum.” Ivan tugged on Nell's sleeve. “This is the best surprise.”

“I'm glad you're excited.” Nell kissed the top of his head. “Do you want to play with her? Get to know her a little, before Kal comes in?”

On the other side of the windows, Nell caught sight of Henry and Kal approaching. Kal looked around cautiously, following Henry into the small corridor. Nodding to his wife and giving a slight wave, Henry smiled. He would wait right where he was, until asked to bring Kal in. Kal sat at Henry's side, watching through the window, a slight whine when he saw little Henry playing with the ultra small dog.

Sitting down on the floor, allowing the small brown dog to climb on him, Ivan giggled. Her whole body shook with her tail wag, as she bounced on and off of the boy's lap. Aly smiled, watching the two interact.

“They certainly get on well.”

“Ivan loves dogs.”

When Henry and Nell had come to see the dogs, it had been Henry on the floor giggling like a child, while the puppy had climbed all over him. Nell had joined in, sitting and tossing the ball for both Tilly and Anduin. But Ivan was by far the one in his true element.

“Let's see how Kal does, shall we?”

“Of course.” Nell waved for Henry to bring Kal in.

Opening the door, Henry gave a gentle tug on Kal's leash. The big, black and white dog was hesitant to enter the room with the smaller creature. She was full of the zoomies and her bark was fierce.

“Kal.” Henry called to his companion. “Come on. It's fine.”

Reluctant, Kal shuffled into the room, snuffling and snorting. Making sure to keep Henry, Nell, Ivan, and the strange woman between him and the small fur missile. The small brown dog darted around Nell, between Henry's legs and right up to Kal. Pulling back on his leash, Kal was wide eyed. No! No way! She was growing closer.

Without warning Tilly stopped a few inches from Kal, reaching out she sniffed his foot and took off. Too concerned with her return, Kal was having a hard time relaxing. His fear was soon soothed, when Nell reached down to offer him a biscuit. Oh so now they were buying him off with food? Eh, fair enough.

“Why don't you pick her up, then she's not as bouncy.” Aly smiled at Ivan.

Scooping the puppy into his arms, Ivan smiled when she began to instantly lick his face. “Tilly.” He giggled, holding her out to his dad.

“Come here, sweetheart.” Henry accepted the puppy. She was tiny compared to Kal, even as a baby. Henry smiled holding the wiggly body, trying to control her enough to let Kal get a proper look. “Look Kal, see the baby.”

Kal huffed, sinking down to the floor. His head resting on his paws. How dare they.

“Have a look, bear.” Henry encouraged the older dog. Bending down with the puppy, he laughed when she licked his chin, giving playful bites. “She's okay. Easy fella.” He steadied Kal, who had lifted his head a little. Sniffing towards the puppy, he sat up. His head tilted slightly. Henry eased Tilly closer.

Reaching out, she yipped in Kal's face, but didn't shy when his big nose poked her in the belly. Licking at Kal, she wagged her tail fiercely.

“I know that you love being the only dog, but would a friend be terrible? She's a friend. Not a chew toy.” Nell eyed Kal.

Huffing, Kal sniffed the puppy once more, before scooting back as Henry let her go on the floor. Instantly zooming around the room, Tilly bumped into Kal. Reacting less dramatically, Kal groaned and flopped down onto the floor. His eyes following the puppy, his desire to chase the small creature almost void. He was too old for this shit.

“I think we should take her home, what do you think?” Henry glanced at Ivan.

“Yes, please.” Ivan nodded eagerly. “What about you, Kal? Do you want a sister?”

Kal huffed. He didn't care one way or another.

“I think we will definitely be taking her.” Nell smiled. Stooping to scoop up the puppy, she scratched Tilly's ears and smiled wide.

“Your mum has a new mate,” Henry nudged Ivan in he side, gesturing to Nell snuggling the puppy.

“Maybe this means she won't bother me so much to do things.” Ivan snickered.

“Don't bet on it,” Nell smirked, she'd heard their chat. When would they learn, she heard everything.

Settling the final paperwork, gathering instructions, and all the legal work that went with adopting dog had taken mere minutes. The shelter were efficient, set up, and knew their business. Henry admired that. Nell had been the one to find them, assuring him that they were reputable, reliable, and a decent place to work with. She wanted nothing but the best, when it came to their newest addition.

Thanking Aly, posing for a few photos – as was custom for the shelter, when an animal found a new place, and making sure they had all of their paperwork, instructions in case Tilly needed to come back. Ha! They were on the their way, the five of them.

Kal led the way to the car, he had snacks waiting and needed to finish that nap he'd been taking. Henry opened the door, allowing Kal to get situated, before Ivan and Tilly joined him. Giving the big dog word of encouragement, telling him how fantastic he'd been with the entire thing.

“Mum, momma, mum.” Ivan bounded towards the car, at his mother's side “I'm sorry for being upset this morning.”

“You have nothing to apologise for, wild boy.” Carrying Tilly; Nell wrapped her other arm around Ivan. “But do me a favour, the next time you want to eves drop, come to us before assuming things.”

Tag List Chat

[haootia]

serious personal post. mobile still doesnt let you do readmores so sorry if this takes up ur dash

my grandmother just died after having a steep decline over the past ~month, she had c*v*d and a stroke in addition to congestive heart failure and other stuff. even still this is sooner than me or my mom were really expecting. she wasn't in the hospital, she was at home at the assisted living place. despite being the grandparent i was by far the closest to as a kid i'm not that torn up about it. because of c*v*d and other stuff i hadn't seen her in years despite her living literally like three minutes from our house, and she hadn't been herself since probably before her husband (not my biological grandfather) died in... 2019? i dunno. i'm bad with dates. anyway, it's kind of just. a thing that happened. i have a lot of complicated emotions about this but i'm not terribly sad, in fact i don't think i'm even mostly sad, i'm mostly just relieved that it was over relatively quickly. this is the first time a family member i really knew a lot about has died since my dad (almost exactly 9 years ago, btw--) as even though i'd known him as my grandpa my whole life, i didn't really interact with my grandma's husband's side of the family... my extended family is kind of complicated and i've really just stuck to my mom and her two siblings and their kids even though i technically have a lot of other cousins or half-cousins or whatever. what i'm trying to say is that i didn't know very much about my grandpa (stepgrandfather?) compared to my grandma, and it's just weird. it's just weird when someone dies. i think experiencing my dad's death as a kid changed the way i'm going to deal with death for the rest of my life. it's a lot less.. overwhelming, maybe is the word, and i find myself feeling very flat about the whole thing. she was born september 9, 1941, and she died today. i don't know what else there is to say.

on a technicality, i actually don't know if she died today or yesterday. it's 12:33 midnight on june 3 right now. my mom told me at ~12:05 after her sister called to tell her, and i don't know when the assisted living place called my aunt, or how long that was after she actually died. so it was either the very end of june 2, or the very first few minutes of june 3. i'm sure this is going to cause problems later with getting certificates and stuff. nothing makes you appreciate the inanity of government paperwork quite like living through someone else's dying.

somewhat ironically, this means my stepgrandmother (my maternal biological grandfather's wife) has now outlived all of my other grandparents, despite not actually being related to me by blood.

this post is mostly just a diary entry, honestly. i kinda just wanted to capture my thoughts in the moment. apologies for Being A Bummer On Main but well the medium of Posting is very convenient for writing down thoughts & feelings without being incredibly melodramatic about stuff. i doubt i'll make any more posts about this because again it hasn't really... changed anything about my life, in a practical sense, or an emotional one either tbh. just some casual memento mori. might make a song or something tomorrow to try and capture these abstract emotions, i dunno, i'm going to bed now like i intended to half an hour ago. goodnight.

[itsadamcole]

fix you

fem!reader x finn balor

(requested) reader loses someone really close to her and Finn is the only one who can "fix her" ...

word count: 2.3k+

warnings: mentions of someone dying, the grieving process, crying, upset!reader

— this is based on “fix you” by coldplay. thank you to anonymous for requesting this. it’s one of my favorite things i’ve ever written —

masterlist || request an imagine here

***

The first feeling you felt was numbness. It didn't seem real when your brother called you to tell you the news. You couldn't believe what your brother was telling you. It was shocking and very unexpected.

"Y/N, Mom and Dad were hit by a drunk driver," your brother said to you over the phone. "They went to the hospital but they didn't make it. They're gone."

The funeral was the same day that you had an opportunity for the NXT Women's Championship so you couldn't go, but you won the title. Nothing felt any different. You didn't feel happy or in a celebratory mood. Yeah, maybe you felt borderline content with winning the title, but it didn't help you feel better like you thought you would. You put on a fake smile but cried real tears that day. The confetti fell, everyone was celebrating, and all you wanted was to see your parents' faces in the crowd. They weren't there.

It's been a week since you won the title, and you're still in denial about your brother's call. You've tried calling your parents' phones, hoping they'd answer. You only spoke to their voicemails. You just wanted to hear their voices. It had been a few weeks since you last talked to them, and you wish you talked to them more recently.

You've pushed all your friends away since you've tried to cope with your parent's deaths. You've been so tired, but you haven't been able to sleep at night. Non-stop tears streaming down your face for days, maybe even weeks. You don't even know.

What am I supposed to do when I lose something I can't replace? you think to yourself every night when you lay in bed. The thoughts constantly ring through your mind when you're trying to sleep. Does it get worse than this? Can you handle it if it does get worse than this?

One of your friends, well your boyfriend, asked you if he could come to your apartment today. You told him he can come over. You saw him the day you won your title but you haven't seen anyone in days

You've been hiding out in your apartment, barely eating and not showering. You haven't had any motivation to do anything. Your little one-bedroom apartment is a disaster. Clothes are thrown everywhere in your room, the living room is covered in trash and glasses, and the dishes are piling up in the sink. The title lays on the arm of one of the chairs in the living room.

At almost one in the afternoon, there's a light knock on your apartment door. You get up, brushing your hair out of your face and wiping the tears away that have stained your cheeks. You unlock the door and open it.

Finn Balor stands at your front door in his signature black leather jacket, a black t-shirt, and jeans. He's holding a bouquet of flowers, a bag with snacks, and an iced coffee from Dunkin Donuts. The tears start again at the kind gesture. "Finn," you cry, walking toward him and hugging him.

"Don't cry," Finn coos. "Come on, let's go dig into these snacks, yeah?"

Nodding, you let Finn walk into the dark apartment. The curtains are all closed, making it darker in the apartment than it is outside. Finn looks around the apartment, setting the bag of snacks down on the kitchen island counter. You stand behind him and look at his view.

"I, um," you say, clearing your throat. "I haven't had the chance to clean it up." Finn turns and looks back at you. Tears well in your eyes. "Actually, that's a lie. I haven't had the motivation to clean it up in weeks."

Your boyfriend sees the tears in your eyes and says, "Hey, that's okay. Ya are going through a lot, Y/N. We can clean it up together and I can help ya in any way ya need me to help."

Nodding, you say, "That sounds nice, Finn. Thank you."

Finn nods and says, "Anything for ya, my love." He walks over to the silverware drawer and grabs spoons. "So, I brought over your favorite ice cream and we can watch some Netflix or Disney Plus. Whatever ya wanna do."

He hands you a spoon and a tub of your favorite ice cream flavor, chocolate chip cookie dough. You take the tub and walk to the couch. You throw the empty boxes of tissues off the couch so Finn can sit. He joins you and grabs the remote, putting on Netflix. You open the tub of ice cream.

"You've been starting a lot of things but ya don't finish watching them," Finn observes. "Ya started so many shows."

You stab at the ice cream and say, "Yeah, I watch it then I get sidetracked with crying." You stab harder at the ice cream and get frustrated. "Why won't this stupid spoon go into the ice cream?"

Finn looks over at you and says, "It's a frozen food, Y/N. It'll defrost a bit if ya give it time."

Getting irritable, you mumble, "Time's not something a lot of us have." His facial expression softens when he hears what you say.

These comments and thoughts aren't uncommon, especially recently. You've been thinking about this a lot while you've spent hours upon hours crying.

You're still stabbing at the frozen ice cream when Finn reaches over. You snap, "I can do it myself."

"I was just trying to help," Finn says, pulling his hands back from you. He's looking at you while you finally get a spoonful of ice cream onto the metal spoon. You take the bite.

"I don't need you to help me with getting ice cream onto a spoon," you say.

Finn looks at you and asks, "Why am I here then? All you're doing is snapping at me and making these comments that you didn't make before."

You say, "You're the one that asked to come over, Finn."

He blinks at you and says, "Because I missed my girlfriend, Y/N. I still do. I don't know who ya are anymore. I don't know this person. Ya disappeared after ya won the title and I didn't hear from ya until I reached out to ask to come over. I probably wouldn't have ever heard from ya if I didn't ask to come over."

While Finn talked, you put the tub of ice cream on the table. When he's done, you say, "My parents died, I didn't get to say goodbye, and you expect me to just be the same Y/N I was before they died. I didn't even get to go to their funeral, Finn. I was too busy winning a title I'll eventually lose anyway. I was winning a title that I don't even deserve." You begin crying again for the millionth time in weeks.

Finn turns so he's facing you as he says, "I never expected ya to be the same Y/N ya were before. I one hundred percent never expected ya to be the same Y/N. I've never lost a parent let alone two so I can't understand the pain and the anger you're feeling right now." He takes your hands in his and holds them while you cry. "Especially because they died so unexpectedly and you didn't get to say goodbye to them."

"Fix me, Finn," you cry to your boyfriend. "I can't keep doing this. I can't keep crying when the smallest thing sets me off like this. I can't have my apartment looking like this." You motion to the messy room around you. "For the first time in weeks, I felt genuinely happy because you were here. I feel like you're the only one who can fix me."

He pulls you into a tight hug and your bury your face into Finn's neck. You cry silently as Finn says, "I'll try to fix ya, Y/N. I can't promise that I can but I'll try. I can't be the only one putting in effort though, baby. I need ya to work with me on this too."

You look up at Finn and you nod, saying, "I can do that." He gives you a soft smile and wipes away your tears before cupping your face. You meet his eyes before he rests his forehead on yours.

Your boyfriend says, "Ya know I'm always here for ya, Y/N. Ya don't have to push me away like I know ya probably want to. I'm in this with ya. Tell me what ya need and we can get started."

"Can we clean my apartment so it looks halfway decent again?" you ask.

Finn laughs a little bit and says, "Of course. I'll get some trash bags and we can start."

Nodding, you pull yourself away from Finn and he gets up. He grabs trash bags from the kitchen and you gather the empty tissue boxes that litter the floor. You grab the used tissues too that missed the tiny trash can you have in the room. Finn returns with an open trash bag and you throw them out.

Then you walk into the kitchen to do the pile of dirty dishes. Finn brings you any glasses, plates, or silverware he finds throughout the living room and dining room areas. He does the same in your bedroom. You do them as he brings them to you.

Your boyfriend being here has given you a little extra motivation you failed to find over the past few weeks. He's helping you clean, and he promised to help try and fix what's going on with you.

You know it won't be easy learning to cope with your parents' deaths, but maybe Finn being around can help you begin to cope. Sometimes having someone to be there for you isn't a terrible idea. So, you make a mental note to see your other friends when you go to NXT tonight.

Step one is to cope with the fact that your parents are gone. Learn to deal with all the emotions you're feeling without keeping them bottled up or snapping on someone because you're feeling emotional. Finn can help you with that, and you're grateful.

It's one step at a time from now on while you learn to cope. You'll figure out step two when you eventually get past step one.

It's close to four when the apartment is cleaned, dusted, swept, vaccummed, and washed. You've even showered and shaved by this time, and dressed in clean clothes that aren't stained with tears or snot. Your hair doesn't look like a bird's nest and you were actually able to put on some makeup so now it looks like you've slept.

You walk into the living room after your shower and find Finn on the couch watching Netflix. You walk up behind him and cover his eyes. "Guess who?" you say by his ear.

"Hm, I don't know," he tease. "Whoever it is actually smells clean."

After gently tapping the back of his head, you uncover his eyes and say, "Jerk."

Finn turns his head and looks at you. He smiles and says, "Look at ya. Ya look good in actual clothes instead of a t-shirt and sweatpants. Not that ya don't look good in a t-shirt and sweatpants but ya have probably been wearing them for days."

You say, "You're the reason I'm actually dressed. You give me a little extra motivation and kick just by being here. Thank you."

He gets on his knees and faces you. "I'm just here to help ya get through this," he says. "Start to finish."

You wrap your arms around his neck and say, "You're the best. I don't deserve this."

Finn says, "Ya don't deserve what happened to ya. We can fly to your hometown so ya can see your family if ya want."

"When I'm a little stronger and I can handle my emotions better we can," you say. Your face falls. "My parents never were able to meet you."

He says, "I don't have to meet them to know that they gave birth and raised one of the most intelligent, athletic, strong, and most beautiful women on this planet. I know they would have went off and started telling me how smart ya are, how strong ya are, how well ya wrestle, and how beautiful ya are. I already know all of that."

Your face gets all flustered as you listen to what Finn has to say. You let him finish before you say, "I wanted them to know how amazing you are, Finn. I wanted them to know that you're taking care of me while I'm thousands of miles away from them."

Your boyfriend climbs over the couch and stands in front of you. "I'm sure they know," Finn says. "If not, I'm sure they do now."

He engulfs you in a hug and you rest your head against Finn's chest. "I know," you sigh. "I'm just glad you're here and trying to help me."

"Fix ya," he reminds you.

You look up at Finn and say, "Yes, fix me." You give a small smile.

Finn says, "Woah, was that a smile? Wow, it's been a long time since I've seen that pretty thing."

Your face gets hot again and you say, "Finn, if you don't stop making me get all flustered."

He chuckles and says, "I'm sorry, mo ghra. Anyway, ya ready to head to the arena? We do have a job to do tonight."

Nodding, you grab your bag and your title. You grab your keys and leave your apartment with Finn.

[chasing-sirius-in-circles]

So a function of my little personal Italian American renaissance has gotten me thinking more about how even my weird ass mountain people family (I have only my uncle and dad on that side so past tense applies) would have been culturally Catholic. If great grandma G and great uncle R were in fact witches carrying on from an old Italian tradition, it would surely have been blended with some of that influence, and even in a non witchy capacity, that's a cultural legacy that's there--

What I'm getting at is that I have zero interest in Jesus or the bible (at least religiously for myself, I always want to know everything about culture and history and beliefs) but I would really like to learn more about all the other pieces of Catholicism--the rituals, other practices, and reasoning. And the truth of it, not the propaganda. So here are some study questions I'm leaving for myself that I welcome responses to if they spark a thought!

To research, answers and source suggestions welcome:

Confessional, historically: was that established as a means of controlling the population like a proto surveillance state wearing god camo, or as a genuine function of religious practice that served the populace as much as the church? Where does that originate?

Confessional historically: could you argue that, sociologically speaking, a space of total honesty beyond legal reach like that would have served people before the advent of talk therapy in many of the same ways as talk therapy would come to do later? As in, is it the same social resource niche/a means of filling the same or a very similar social need? The next time someone makes a joke about confession being stupid/laughable/weird would I be a nutjob if my reaction was "dude be nice. We don't shame people for utilizing a safe space to talk through their feelings and actions just because it's a god themed space."

Confessional today: I always hear people say "oh yeah if you're Catholic and you do something terrible you just have to confess and then say the right prayers enough times and it's all ok" but then every actual depiction of confession I've ever seen is more like "if you confess to something terrible you'll be told to pray to repent or for guidance or whatever but also the priest will talk through it with you and encourage you to make irl amends, not just say however many Hail Marys and call it good." I'm guessing the average Catholic experience is somewhere between these two, but what exactly is it like?

What is the difference between a mass and a service? Or a vesper (or is that the term for the kind of choral music used in vigils?) What exactly is a vigil as opposed to like, a night mass?

Ritual, offering, prayer: I see in movies sometimes this kind of bargaining with God type of prayer, like, "I lit a candle I took certain steps with holy water or somesuch (??? More info required I know I'm not articulating accurately, that's why they're study questions) and now I'm promising I'll go to church every Sunday until I die in a pew if you will do/help with/grant me [thing] O Lord." Is this typical? Is prayer a two way street, what you offer God and what you ask of God? Like, is *asking* a thing? Or are most prayers more like saying grace, a "this is a thing I am thanking you for" celebration of God without request or expectation, and the bargaining kind just shows up in movies because it makes a good plot point?

Ritual, offering, prayer: again with the cold and probably bold sociological takes, but how does lighting a candle for a loved one or appealing to a saint differ functionally from pre-christian ancestor or demigod worship? Are they functionally similar and it's the theological context that makes an important difference? Or are they culturally situated but still technically comparable?

How much acknowledgement of the technical presence of a divine feminine or a genderless God or holy spirit is there among modern practicing Catholics? Does anyone call it a divine feminine aspect, or is that a term outsiders apply but practitioners don't?

Is the devil really A Thing or is translating satan as the noun "adversary" actually more accurate? Is there one devil named Satan? Or is that an American bible belt thing better described some other way in a Catholic context, or no? If no, and there is literally a single identifiable being of evil in defiance of God, how did he get there? Why? Canonically, not according to reinterpretation by outside groups or cultural splinters that are super niche.

Evil continued: Demons. Canonically and not pop culturally, what's going on there?

Sin: is original sin "people are born evil" or does sin here mean any deviance from God/from a spiritual state, and would it be better stated as "we are born separated from the divine by default as corporeal and complex individuals?" By extension, is baptism important because an infant who dies will literally be condemned, or is more like wanting to give them a direct line back to the divine should they not make it to an age where they can actively seek God themselves? Like emergency lights for finding the way back? Does God actually care if an infant with zero control is or is not baptized, or is it something we as humans choose for our peace of mind?

Are relics still a thing? Especially outside of Europe and the general vicinity of early christianity in the Middle East/Levant? If I go to a large church in the US would I come across bones?

Burials and death: what's the attitude on embalming and cremation and burial and when that happens for modern catholics? Are modern Catholics down with ideas like ossuaries or catacombs? What about mass burial? Has the old timey attitude of "we are not our flesh and bone so if the churchyard gets full and the bones end up in a pile without individual identity that's fine" still around?

Interpretation: for modern Catholics, how literally do you read the bible? As a historical account, or as mytho-history that is often exaggerated (in a literary sense) or applied metaphorically? Are there young earth or anti-evolutionary Catholics or is that a uniquely American protestant angle? How much room do most practitioners allow for ideas like "yeah evolution is totally a thing and creation stories aren't supposed to be verbatim, but representative?"

Social: what is the modern zeitgeist in terms of loving ALL your neighbors and inclusivity v. judgement and discrimination? Is it a comparably variable set of attitudes like across protestant individuals, or is there a uniform attitude? Are modern Catholics actually likely to turn their backs on progressive politics if one pope supports them and the next doesn't, or is official church doctrine more of a lip service thing for the average practitioner these days?

[librarianbusdriver]

Ted: Okay, where was I? You were telling us how you met mom. In excruciating detail. Right. So, back in 2005, When I was 27, My two best friends got engaged, And it got me thinking, maybe I should get married.

*Sigh*

And then I saw robin. She was incredible. I just knew I had to meet her. That's where your uncle barney came in. I suggest we play a little game I like to call Wait, no, no, no. We're not playing "have you met ted?" Hi. Have you met ted? So I asked her out. But after just one date, I was in love with her Which made me say something stupid. I think I'm in love with you. What?! Oh, dad. So then what happened? Nothing. I mean, I'd made a complete fool of myself. So, a week went by, and I decided not to call her. So you're not gonna call her? You went from, "I think I'm in love with you"

Trapped, the same hollow, dull story repeating again, and again, and again all around me. No way to change its course. No way to do anything but just... watch.

To "I'm not gonna call her"? I wasn't in love with her, okay? I was briefly in love with the abstract concept Of getting married. It had absolutely nothing to do with robin. Robin. Hi. Look who I ran into. Since when do you guys know each other? Oh, since about... Here. Lily recognized me From the news and... Hello, sailor! They just got engaged. Well, I should get back to the station. See you, guys. Nice seeing you, ted. Yeah, you, too. Thanks. What? Damn it! I'm in love with her. As your sponsor, I will not let you relapse. You blew it, it's over, move on. I don't know, I just have this feeling She's the future mrs. Ted mosby. ( Lily squeaks) Lily, you squeaked? She said something about me, didn't she? Come on, spill it, red! Fine. So, what do we think of ted? ( Iaughs) Ted's something else. Huh. I'm gonna spin that as good. Lots of guys are something, I'm something else. Comes on a little strong. But, that's part of my charm. But, that's part of his charm. Oh, totally. I mean, he's sweet, he's charming, He's just looking for something A little bit more serious than I am. I mean, the most I can handle right now is something casual. This just stays between us, right? Are you kidding? This flapper? Fort knox. Oops. She wants casual. Okay, I'll be casual. I'm going to be a mushroom cloud of casual. Cause it's a game... I want her to skip To the end and do the whole happily-ever-after thing. But you don't get there unless you play the game. So, are you going to ask her out? Yeah... No! I can't ask her out, Because if I ask her out, I'm asking her out. So, how do I Ask her out without asking her out? Did you guys get high? I got it. I don't ask her out. I invite her To our party next Friday. We're having a party next Friday? We are now. Casual. Like inviting a hundred people over just to mack on one girl. Oh, and lily, that's my leg. You waited five minutes to tell me that? All right, so call her up. No, calling's not casual. I just got to bump into her somewhere. Now, if only I knew her schedule, I could arrange a chance encounter. That's great, ted... you'll be the most casual stalker ever. Put that ring on her finger, lily had been, Well, extra affectionate. ( chuckling ): Baby, no. I have a 25-page paper on constitutional law due Monday. Hey, I'm just sitting here, wearing my ring,

Wallachia, how I miss you.

My beautiful ring. ( Typing) Kind of makes wearing other stuff seem wrong. Like my shirt. Kind of don't want to wear my shirt anymore. Or... My underwear. That's right, I'm not wearing any. ( Sighs ) No underwear? Not even slightly. Ted: Guys. Boundaries. Robin ( on tv ): Thanks, bill. I'm reporting from the razzle dazzle supermarket On 75th and columbus... 75th and columbus. Game on! Where four-year-old leroy ellenberg has climbed Inside a grab-a-prize machine and gotten stuck. ( Panting ) And, all in the pursuit of a stuffed, purple giraffe. For metro news 1, I'm robin trubotsky. Engineer: We're clear. Robin: Thanks, don. Whew. Ted. Robin, wow! What are the odds? Oh, you know, just, uh, shopping for, uh, dip. I love dip. I mean, I don't love dip, I like dip... ( chuckles ) so, uh, hey, you, uh, Reporting a news story or something? Yeah, kid stuck in a crane machine. How sweet of you to call it news. Wow. Kid in a crane machine. Mm-hmm. You just had to have that toy, didn't you? Couldn't play the game like everyone else. You're all sweaty! Cute kid. Um, you know, It's so funny I should run into you. We're, uh, we're having a party next Friday, If you feel like swinging by. But, you know, whatever. Oh, I'm going back home next weekend. It's too bad it's not tonight. It is... It's tonight. This Friday. Did I say next Friday? Sorry, I guess I've been saying next Friday all week. But, yeah, it's tonight, the, uh, the party's tonight. But, you know, whatever. ( Phone rings) Hello? Hey, am I interrupting anything? No, no, I'm just writing my paper. Hitting the books. Yeah, well, you and lily Might want to put some clothes on. We're throwing a party in two hours. Okay, bye. What are you gonna do when robin shows up? Okay, I got it all planned out. She steps through the door... and where's ted? Not eagerly waiting by the door. No, I'm across the room at my drafting table, Showing some foxy young thing all my cool architect stuff. So, robin strolls over, and I casually give her one of these: "hey, what's up?" She says, "hey, nice place, et cetera, et cetera." And then, I say, "well, make yourself at home." And, I casually return to my conversation. Then, an hour later... "oh, you're still here?" I say, like I don't really care, But it's a nice surprise. And then, very casually: Both: The roof! Get her up to the roof, And the roof takes care of the rest. What's so special about the roof? Oh, the moon, the stars, the shimmering skyline. You can't not fall in love on that roof. We do it up there, sometimes. Solid plan, my little friend. But, may I suggest one little modification. Barney: That foxy young thing you were chatting up, Take her up to the roof and have sex with her. Crazy monkey style... That's not the plan. Barney: Well, it should be the plan. I mean, look at her. Ted, look at her. She's smoking! Thank you! Yeah... But, she's not robin! Exactly! Ted, let's rap. Statistic: At every new york party, There's always a girl who has no idea Whose party she's at. She knows no one you know, And you will never see her again. Do you see where I'm going with this? Barney, I don't think so. ( groans ) Scoping.

I miss it all. The childhood spent in that bountiful castle, the beauty of those rolling green fields...

( Imitates sonar beeping ) Scoping. Man, you're a dork. ( Accelerates beeping sound ) Target acquired! Now it's time we play a little game I like to call "have you met ted?" oh, come on, not this. Hi. Have you met ted? No. Hi. Hi. Do you know marshall? Lily? Woman: No. Hmm. Do you know anyone at this party? I work with carlos. Excuse me. Anyone know a carlos? No. No. On a silver platter. Bon appétit. I don't think so. Your loss, her gain. Excuse me. Can I show you the roof? It's magical up there. Sure. Ted: Wait, wait. Hey, hey, I got that roof reserved. Dude, robin's not coming. Hey, she's going to show up! She'll show up. Ted: She didn't show up. At least it was a great party. I ate, like, four whole cans of dip. You always know what to say, old friend. ( Phone ringing ) It's robin. No, no, not right away... got to seem casual. ( Ringing continues ) Hello? I'm so sorry I missed your party. Who is this? Meredith? Robin. Oh, robin! Hey! Yeah, I, uh, guess you never showed up, did you? No, I got stuck at work. But, they finally got that kid out of the crane machine. Did he get to keep the purple giraffe? Yeah, they let him keep all the toys. He was in there a long time, And little kids have small bladders. ( Chuckles ) robin: I wish your party Was tonight. It is... the party's tonight. Yeah, uh... It's a two-day party, 'cause that's just how we roll. Uh, so, if you want to swing by, you know, it's casual. See ya. So, that was robin. What are you Doing to me, man?! I got a paper to write! I know! Sorry! It's terrible! I'll buy more dip! Ted! Ted, wait! Get french onion! Can you believe this guy? I got a paper to write. Okay, fine. But, it's got to be, like, super-quick, And no cuddling after. I'm the luckiest girl alive. You were so right about the roof! The roof! The roof is on fire, ted! That girl from last night... I took her back to my place, Spun her around a couple times and sent her walking. She will never find her way back, and there she is. How did she get here? Did you invite her? I have no idea who that is. She said she works with carlos. Who's carlos? I don't know any carlos. ( Frustrated groan)

The conquests... the blood of my enemies spilled, and villages burnt to the ground in my name.

Hi, you! You're back! I sure am. Mmm. Come on, sweetie, I need a drink. "Sweetie"? Really? ( Barely audible ): Help. Whoa! Whoa, rabbits! Come on, I got that roof reserved. All right. So, it's over between me and works-with-carlos girl. Whoa! That was fast. Yeah. I was trying to think, What's the quickest way to get rid of a girl you just met? I think I'm in love with you. What?! Thanks, bro. Glad I could help. What the... No, no, no. Come on. Sorry, ted. Great. What am I going to do when robin shows up? She'll show up. She didn't show up. All right. We threw two parties. Everybody had fun. Everybody wanged, everybody chunged. Now, the kid has got to get to work, And the kid is not to be disturbed. Repeat after me. I will not have sex with marshall. Both: I will not have sex with marshall. ( Phone ringing ) It's robin. Hello? Hi, ted. Amanda? Oh, denise! Sorry, you totally sounded like amanda. It's robin. Oh, robin. Hi. I totally wanted to come. I got stuck at work again. I feel like I live there. I'm sorry I missed your party, again. Hey, ain't no thing but a chicken wing, mamacita. Who am I? I guess there's no chance your two-dayer Turned into a three-dayer? It did, indeed. The party continues tonight. Yeah. Uh, last night, people were like, "keep it going, bro. Party trifecta." Wow! Okay, well, I'll be there. Great! See you tonight. So, that was robin. So, I threw a third party for robin... On a Sunday night. Well, this is lame. Lame... Or casual? Lame. Or casual? Hey, law books. Ready for a little 15 minute recess? Sorry, baby, I got to work. I need all my blood up here. Has anybody seen an introduction to contract tort And restitution statutes from 1865-1923? Anybody seen a big-ass book? All ( muttering ): No. Woman: Hello, barney. Of course. You look well. Is it weird they invited both of us? Who? Who invited you? No one even knows who you are! I understand you're hurt, but you don't have to be cruel. Carlos was right about you. Who is carlos?! Hey, where the hell is my...? Oh...! Okay... An introduction to contract tort And restitution statutes from 1865-1923 Is not a coaster! Ted, I'm jeopardizing my law career so you can throw not one, Not two, but three parties for some girl that you just met Who's probably not even going to show up! I mean, where is she, ted, huh? Where's robin? Hi. Hi, robin. Wow. So, you threw all these parties for me? No. Oh, you thought that... No! I... Okay, yes. You got me. One of the reasons I threw these parties Was so that I could introduce you To, um, this guy. Uh, I figured, you know, Since it didn't work out between us And now we can just laugh about it... ( laughs weakly) Anyway, robin, this is... Carlos. Oh! Oh! She's still talking to carlos. I can still win this. I-it's not over. Okay, buddy. Time for the tough talk. Robin seems great, but let's look at the facts. You want to get married. And right now, There's a million women in new york Looking for exactly you. But robin ain't one of them. She's not just one of them. She's the one. Yeah, well, the one is heading up to the roof. What are you going to do? Nothing. It's a game. I got to just keep playing it. ( Rock music playing ) Ted... Hey, carlos, can you give us a minute? Hey, no sweat, hombre. See ya. Robin...

Will I ever be freed of this damnable place?

Look, I didn't throw this party To set you up with carlos, Or the one before that, or the one before that. I threw these parties because I wanted to see you. Well, here I am. There's something here, look, unless I'm crazy. You're not crazy. I don't know, ted. I mean, we barely know each other And you're looking at me with that look. And, it's like... Like, "let's fall in love and get married And have kids and drive them to soccer practice." I'm not going to force sports on them Unless they're interested. ( Iaughing ) It's a great look. But you're looking at the wrong girl. No, I'm not. I don't want to get married right now, maybe ever. I'd feel like I'd either have to marry you Or break your heart, and... I just couldn't do either of those things. Just like you can't turn off the way you feel. Click. Off. Let's make out. What? What? That was the off switch. And I turned it off. I mean, look, sure, yes, I want to fall in love, get married, blah, blah, blah. But, on the other hand... You, me, the roof. There's no off switch. There is an off switch. And it's off. No, it's not. Yes, it is. No, it's not. Yes... It is. No, it's not. You're right. There's no off switch. God, I wish there was an off switch! Me, too. ( Both laughing ) ( both muttering nervously ) What do we do now? We could be friends. Oh... I know it sounds insincere when people say that, But... We could. I don't know, robin. I've made such a jackass of myself here. We start hanging out, every time I see you It'll be like, "oh, that's right. I'm a jackass." You're not a jackass. Look, I'm sorry. I only moved here in April and I'm always working And I just haven't met a lot of good people so far. But I understand. Well, uh, maybe in a few months, After it's not so fresh, We could all, uh, you know, get a beer. Yeah. That sounds good. I'll see you, ted. Or, you know, now. We could all get a beer now. I'd like that. My friends are going to love you... Like you, you know, as a friend. Jackass. Unbelievable. That's just a recipe For disaster. They work together! Are you jealous? Oh, please. What does carlos have that I don't? A date tonight. All: Oh! Stop the tape. Rewind. ( Imitates tape rewinding ) a date tonight. All: Oh! I'm not sure I like her. Hey, don't you have a paper to write? Dude, you're talking to the kid. I'm going to knock back this beer. I'm going to knock back one more beer. I'm going to write a 25-page paper. I'm going to hand it in and I'm going to get an "a." My name is rufus and that's the trufus. ( Iaughter ) Ted: He got a b-minus. But still, 25 pages in one night, b-minus? The kid was good. At least let me buy you a beer. Come on, I'll buy everyone a beer. I'll help carry. You know something, ted? What? You are a catch. You're going to make some girl very happy. And I am going to help you find her. Well, good luck. I mean, maybe new york's just too big a town. I mean, there's millions of people in this city. How, in all this mess, Is a guy supposed to find the love of his life? I mean, where do you even begin? Hi. Have you met ted? ( Music rises over dialogue )

I do not know if I can, but I must.

[STAB STAB STAB STAB STAB]

FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOUUU-

[talldecafcappuccino]

Title: Between Close Friends

Rating: General Audience

Chapters: 1/1

Relationship: Ted Lasso/Rebecca Welton

Summary: Ted is bad at social media, but is that a bad thing?

Ted, what the fuck are you doing????

Ted peers at his phone, rubbing sleep from his eyes and reads the message again.

He scrolls down and sees he has twelve more texts and three missed calls all from Keeley Jones. He turns off his nighttime notifications with a few exceptions for emergency contacts, so it’s not surprising he slept through the messages.

He scratches at the stubble along his cheek and checks his clock. It’s seven o’clock here in Kansas, so it must be . . . early afternoon in London. He thinks through the last day, but he can’t remember anything interesting enough to have Keeley on the case.

Henry came over to his extended-stay hotel, they went to an American football game, got a late dinner in downtown Wichita, and watched a movie before bed.

They did make it on the Jumbotron for the Lasso-off, the team’s half-time dance contest, but his moves weren’t especially embarrassing. At least not in his opinion. Unless one of the moves was actually an insult to the English in which case, oh jeeze, he needs to get on this quick.

The call barely connects before Keeley’s voice echoes in his ear.

“Oy! Ted!”

“Keeley, I am so sorry for whatever I did to offend the great people of the United Kingdom. I am ready to make a statement and an apology tour as soon as you tell me which dance move I need to retire immediately.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, but I need you to log out of the AFC Richmond Instagram account. Like, now.”

That stops Ted in his tracks.

Does he even have access to that? He remembers a post-it note of accounts and passwords from Beard on their first day with Richmond.

There was an account run by the previous manager, but Keeley had taken it over long ago, converting it to the official team account. She had also made Ted a personal Instagram for his own use and brand development, but he never posted publicly.

He puts her on speaker phone and opens the Instagram app. She’s right. He’s logged into the team account with all 25 million followers. Well, shoot.

There are about a dozen stories posted from last night. All of Ted and Henry’s day together. There’s puns (“having a cow” at dinner with an image of Henry holding up a beef rib and screaming his head off), Ted and Henry singing at a dueling piano bar, the two brushing their teeth together in the bathroom mirror.

“No offense, but I think this may delay the Tom Ford deal you asked me about.”

“Yeah. I get that.”

“It’s just, you know, dads aren’t quite their brand. Or our brand. I mean we’re not anti-dorky dad, but you know with the whole comeback narrative during the season hiatus . . .”

“No I get it. You’ve put a lot of work into rebranding this team and I just undermined that.”

She sighs, but it’s fond.

“Sorry, Ted. It’s not like what you posted was bad, it’s rather sweet actually. It’s just a little different from the posts I had scheduled.”

Ted nodded. It wasn’t the most embarrassing thing that had ever happened to him, but he felt bad for making Keeley’s job harder than it needed to be.

“No, I’m sorry Keeley. I swear, it won’t happen again.”

****

“Can you believe what Ted did last night? I’ve never seen someone so bad at social media.”

Rebecca has no idea what Keeley is talking about when she walks into her office. She flops onto the couch, feet splayed on the coffee table, clearly exhausted by whatever Ted has done from 4,438 miles away.

“So many puns. Which, don't get me wrong, I love word play more than most people. But I don’t think it’s right for the team right now.”

Rebecca shuts her laptop.

“You’re right about puns not being part of the team plan, but what’s this about Ted? What did he do, exactly?”

Ted hasn’t posted anything in at least 24 hours. Not that Rebecca is keeping track.

“Oh he managed to switch to the team account on Instagram and posted about his entire evening out with Henry. It was quite sweet, actually. The ones that made sense,” but then she pulled a face.”He’s like, really, really bad at social media.”

Oof. Well that isn’t great, but Rebecca doesn’t think there’s anything particularly terrible about Ted’s social media use normally.

“But everything seems under control? No big PR actions needed.”

“It’s fine. I had him log out and wrote a post about Coach Lasso’s surprise social media takeover from America.”

Rebecca nods. Okay, so it was all sorted. Keeley has things totally under control.

But she reaches for her phone anyway. She opens Instagram, taps through the AFC Richmond stories, and snorts at the image of Henry with the rib as big as his head.

“Are people at least being kind?” Rebecca hopes Ted logged out without seeing any messages about Henry. Not that she could see any reason for it, but people were shitheads on the internet.

“Well, wanker is still the most common response. But many of them are wanker with a little heart at the end, so I think it’s fine. We actually got a lot of responses, proper engagement and all that,” she looks up at the ceiling, considering it for a moment before rolling her head to look back at Rebecca.

“If we weren’t trying to present the team as a badass phoenix rising from the ashes, I’d say a Ted takeover isn’t a bad idea. He just needs some supervision. Maybe a phone with a better camera.”

Rebecca is only half listening as she taps to the next story.

“Aw, they went to dueling piano night. That must have been fun for Henry.”

She’s smiling at her phone when Keeley asks, “Dueling piano night?”

“Yeah, you know at Jim Bob’s Bar.”

Keeley is looking at her blankly.

“Fine. I know it’s not really Jim Bob’s bar. It’s probably not even a bar if Henry’s there. But I can’t remember the real name off the top of my head.”

She’d looked it up once, after Ted first posted about the dueling pianos. For some reason she started calling it Jim Bob’s. Ted didn’t seem bothered and had even started calling it that himself.

When she looks up again, Keeley is staring at her, eyes narrowed.

“What are you talking about?”

“What do you mean?”

“How do you know so much about some bar in Kansas?”

That gives Rebecca pause. She isn’t sure what Keeley means by the line of questioning.

“It’s not some totally random bar. Ted posts about it whenever he goes for dueling pianos.”

If he gets to the bar early or she has a particularly late evening, Rebecca catches the story before going to bed. When she does, she always asks him to put in $5 for Wannabee by the Spice Girls. She owes him a small fortune by now, but it’s worth it to see the bar explode with cheers and jeers.

Some nights she misses the story, but he puts money in anyways and she wakes up to a shaky video of, Yo, I'll tell you what I want, what I really, really want.

Rebecca thinks this is a good enough explanation, but Keeley is still staring at her.

“I’ve literally no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Keeley, you know social media is not my thing. All I know is that sometimes Ted posts about this bar on his tiny friends list thing,” she waves her hand around, trying her best to describe it. “The one with the green ring around it.”

Keeley leaps to her feet, eyes wide.

“Am I not on Ted’s Close Friends list??”

Before Rebecca can say a word, Keeley is halfway out the door, texting furiously.

“Roy, better not be on there, if I’m not on there. Ted knows how I feel about being left out!” she shouts over her shoulder. “Sorry Rebecca, I need to do some investigating, asap.”

Oof. She may have just created a problem. It’s probably best to give Ted a heads up before Keeley gets through interrogating Roy.

She drafts a text once, twice, then deletes it and presses call instead.

“Hey Boss, let me guess. Keeley got a hold of you?”

It’s been a while since they’ve chatted, what with the time difference. It’s bizarre how familiar his American accent has become.

“She just left my office, yes.”

There’s a loud crack in the background and a metal clang.

“Where are you?”

“Oh, just the batting cages with Henry,” he says, cheering loudly. “Hey, do you guys have a sport called baseball that has nothing to do with American baseball? You know, like football and football?”

She chuckles, “I don’t believe we do. However there is always cricket.”

He hums, considering it.

“Now Ted, I think there’s something you should know.”

“Lay it on me Boss. I know I caused a headache this morning, what’s the damage? What do you need me to do? I am at your disposal or I’ll lay really, really low as long as you need me to.”

“It’s not that Ted. It’s Keeley.”

“Keeley?”

“Yes, she’s on a bit of a mission at the moment. It seems you left her off your Close Friends list? I think that’s right. On Instagram?”

“Huh. How did that come up?”

“I was telling her about Jim Bob’s. Apparently she had never heard of it and realized you had a whole social media life she was unaware of.”

“Right . . .”

“So do what you will with that.”

“You haven’t talked to anyone else about this yet, have you?”

Rebecca is confused by this new direction.

“No. Why? Ted, is something wrong?”

It takes a long moment for Ted to respond.

“What can I say, I’m just really bad at this social media stuff.”

It's a non-response and an overly folksy one at that. But Rebecca can’t be fooled by the aw shucks routine—not anymore. She tries again.

“Ted. Who is on your close friends list?”

“Uh. Not a lot of people.”

“That doesn’t answer the question.”

“What can I say?” He huffs, a little frustrated. She would feel bad for prying, but she can't help herself. “The list of people I want to share silly life things with is small.”

“How small?” she wonders.

“Very small.”

The line goes silent and Rebecca swears she lost him. But then she hears him take a deep breath.

“It’s you. You’re the list.”

Rebecca feels flush. That’s not where she was expecting this conversation to go.

“I know that might be a lot. You don’t have to say anything. I just, that’s the honest truth and I’d like to get ahead of it before Keeley harangues the entire team.”

It’s a lot to take in, but it makes sense. Sometimes when she’s watching his posts, she wonders about his audience. Who else cares about his biscuit recipe improvements or Broadway Sundays (a recent development that’s turned into a shared movie night.)

“Rebecca?”

She realizes she’s been quiet for a while. The moment feels tenuous and she worries about saying the wrong thing, sending him running faster than Keeley during a social media snafu.

Finally she settles on, “You know, you’re welcome to text me silly life things. It wouldn’t be a bother.”

She brushes invisible crumbs from her desk, listening carefully to his breathing on the other end of the line.

“Yeah?”

“Yes. Maybe I can send some, too?”

Rebecca can hear his smile from across the Atlantic.

“Well, alright then.”

****

That night, Ted’s phone pings and he rolls over to see a text message from Rebecca. It’s a picture of the sun rising over her garden wall.

Something silly to start the day.

But it doesn’t feel silly. Not at all.